*
When the riders were close enough for the three men to get a good look at the horses, a deep silence spread among them.
Jaki finally spoke. ‘I see Karl has done well,’ he said.
Unnthor grunted in response.
The horses were running at full gallop, muscles bunched, necks stretched out with the joy of speed. The riders, hunched over, were shouting encouragement and urging their mounts on. One of the riders inched ahead of the other two and continued to stretch the lead.
The men at the gate could make out shapes now. A mastiff was bounding alongside the racing trio, tongue lolling. ‘Karl’s not winning this one, though,’ Unnthor said with a note of satisfaction.
The rider on the leading horse rose up in the saddle and punched the air, then reined in the mount, slowing the beast until the riders behind followed suit. The hood fell away to reveal long blonde hair and rosy cheeks flushed with excitement.
‘Grandfather!’ the girl shouted, and beside her the dog barked in response, a big, throaty sound.
‘Gytha!’ Unnthor shouted back as the horses closed the distance. ‘You ride like I’d taught you!’
‘Better, I should think,’ growled the larger of the two trailing riders. Karl Unnthorsson was built solid: thick across the chest and shaped like a tree trunk. A patchy black beard stuck out from his jaw like a badly wired brush and his left cheek bore the scars of battle. Thick eyebrows gave his face a perpetual scowl. He wore a leather strap around his neck and the top of a silver Thor’s Hammer was resting on his collarbone. ‘She don’t hold back.’ As he dismounted smoothly, the dog padded over and nudged his hand.
‘Karl,’ Unnthor said. ‘Welcome home.’
‘And I’m invisible, am I?’ The third rider dismounted swiftly. A tall but slim woman, quick of movement, threw her hood back with a flick of her wrist. A blonde braid lay over her right shoulder, richly inlaid with silver thread. There was no mistaking the look of mother and daughter.
‘Welcome, Agla,’ Unnthor said. ‘You are ever a treasured guest in my house.’
‘You lie like you dance, old bear,’ the woman said, ‘awkwardly. But it is good to see you.’
Jaki swung open the gate and the three riders walked their horses in.
‘Magnificent animals,’ Unnthor said.
‘They’re good,’ Karl agreed, ‘but I need a stronger one for me. They’re all from the same breeder and they carry similar weights. Gytha won because she’s lighter.’
‘Did not,’ the girl shot back. ‘I’m just better than you.’
‘The spirit of youth,’ Karl said. ‘I’ll teach you a lesson soon enough.’
‘You’d have to catch me first.’ Gytha danced away from her father’s reach.
‘You’d better keep moving, then, or I’ll snap your pretty neck when I do,’ Karl said.
‘And then I’d kill you in your sleep,’ Agla said.
Karl’s laugh was short and sharp.
‘Einar, take the horses,’ Unnthor said. ‘I’ll bring our travellers in for some food.’
Karl looked around. ‘This is new,’ he said, nodding towards the stables.
‘Built it six years ago – six?’ Unnthor looked at Jaki.
‘Seven,’ Jaki corrected him.
‘It’s been a while,’ Karl said.
‘Leave the horses. Your mother has some food on.’ Unnthor ushered the quibbling family towards the longhouse.
Once they were out of earshot, Jaki glanced at Einar. Beside them, Karl’s mare snorted and stomped her foot. ‘I told you,’ the old man murmured, ‘if you want to keep all your bits attached, say nothing.’
*
Helga watched the smile slide onto her mother’s face. Then she heard the approaching voices, and a moment later the door opened. The grey-haired woman glanced at the pot and Helga took the hint. She focused on the wooden spoon, stirring the stew in steady circles.
‘Wife,’ Unnthor bellowed, ‘we are given the gift of guests!’
‘Agla! Gytha!’ Hildigunnur walked swiftly across the longhouse floor and swept the two women up in a hug. ‘Welcome, my loves.’
‘Thank you, Grandmother,’ Gytha said as her mother extricated herself from Hildigunnur’s arms. ‘You look as young as ever.’
‘Oh, psh,’ Hildigunnur said, ‘I am old and weak, and so are my bones.’
‘Didn’t feel like it,’ Agla said, rubbing her shoulder. ‘If that’s how you hug your husband, no wonder he’s known for his foul mood.’
‘Whereas Karl is a right little lamb,’ Hildigunnur said, eyes twinkling.
Gytha laughed. ‘Hah! The old bitch has some bite still!’
‘GYTHA!’ Karl’s voice cracked the air like a whip. ‘Come here, right now—’
The girl pursed her lips and bit down on words that seemed to be pushing to get out. ‘Yes, Father,’ she finally managed to mutter. She walked up to where Karl stood next to Unnthor.
The dark-haired man was all angles, shadows and fury. ‘You will bring honour to my name when you are a guest in another’s house.’
‘But—’
‘But nothing,’ Karl growled.
‘I thought it was quite funny,’ Hildigunnur said.
‘Mother,’ Karl said between clenched teeth, ‘stay out of this.’ He turned to Gytha. ‘Go and see to the horses’ – he stopped her in her tracks with a vicious glare – ‘and behave yourself.’ At the far end Helga worked hard to attract no attention whatsoever. Moments later the door slammed as Gytha left.
For a moment, no one said anything.
‘Well,’ Hildigunnur said, breaking the silence, ‘at least we know she’s not a changeling.’
Karl’s scowl melted into an almost-smile. ‘She gets it all from her mother.’
‘Does not! She’s as stubborn as a stone, and I’m not. I’m very reasonable,’ Agla said.
Behind Karl, Helga watched Unnthor swallow a laugh.
‘No, you’re not,’ Karl said. ‘You’ll argue about anything.’
‘No, I won’t!’
‘Yes, you will.’
‘Shut your mouth, old man – I am very reasonable!’
‘Karl, stop teasing,’ Hildigunnur said. Helga’s heart sank as her mother turned towards her, followed by Karl and Agla’s gaze. It did not feel pleasant.
‘Now, I need to introduce you to our girl Helga – she’s lived with us since about two years after you left, and she could just as well be your sister, except that she’s smarter and better-looking. We’re keeping her here as long as we can.’
Karl bowed his head once in greeting.
Agla gave her the once-over, like she would a horse, and appeared to find her uninteresting.
And just like that, Helga was invisible again.
‘Would you two like a bowl of something to eat, or are you about to start arguing again?’
Despite the humour in Hildigunnur’s tone, Agla still glared at her husband, and though Helga searched for a tell-tale twinkle, a smile or any sort of affection in the woman’s face, she found nothing.
‘Yes, thank you,’ Agla said, and Hildigunnur turned her gaze Helga’s way, which was as good as a snapped command. Hands working automatically, she plucked out wooden bowls from their place under the side benches and filled them with stew. The steam played around her hands, heating her skin. She adjusted her grip and hurried out to the table, where Agla had sat down next to Unnthor. Hildigunnur had disappeared, but Helga didn’t need to see her mother to know she’d be working somewhere she knew the girl would pass by. She’d stop her for an exchange of words, then there’d be the tilted head, the raised eyebrow – the surreptitious glance to ensure that the two of them were the only ones sharing the joke – and moments later Gytha would be swallowing a chuckle, eyes sparkling at her grandmother’s spirit. Helga could almost
hear her mother’s voice, throwing wisdom over her shoulder. A well-placed word can save you a lot of trouble.
Without realising, she found she was standing near Karl, sitting silently by the table. ‘Here you go,’ she said, stumbling over her tongue.
He stared straight up and at her, brown eyes twinkling, smiling wrinkles forming. He’s struggling not to lick his lips, she thought. Like a wolf. ‘Thank you. Thank you very much,’ he said, smirking at her.
‘Thank Mother,’ Helga said, more sharply than she’d intended. ‘It’s her stew.’
Instead of recoiling, however, the dark-haired man’s smile just widened. ‘It looks . . . good enough to eat.’
She could feel his eyes on her long after she’d retreated to her place in the shadows.
*
Einar led the newcomers’ horses to the far end of the stables. He had thought for a moment about using the stalls near Unnthor and Hildigunnur’s own mares, but the animals’ laid-back ears and snorting quickly convinced him that that was a bad idea, so in the far end they went. He started with Karl’s horse, brushing down her flanks with smooth, even strokes. He quickly realised the big black mare had a fierce temper and he’d have to be on his toes if he was to avoid being bitten.
‘Ssh, girl,’ he muttered, ‘you’ll feel better once I’m done.’ The horse tossed her head angrily and snorted, but didn’t snap at him again. ‘That’s it,’ he whispered, ‘just a couple moments more and you’ll be rid of me.’
‘What makes you think she’d want rid of you?’ Gytha asked from the doorway, making Einar jump back, just a moment before yellowed teeth were snapping at his hand. He shifted out of the way of the mare’s stamping hooves before turning to the girl. He looked at her, but didn’t speak.
‘She’s all right,’ she said, and as she moved towards him, the mare responded to the familiar presence, snorting once and rolling her head. ‘Here. Give it to me,’ Gytha said, holding out her hand for the brush.
Einar passed it over without saying a word.
Gytha started grooming the horse, falling into an even rhythm. ‘You’ve done this well,’ she remarked.
‘Why do you say that?’ Einar said.
‘Because you still have your fingers.’ Gytha smiled at him. ‘That means she likes you.’ When Einar didn’t respond, she frowned. ‘Would you like me to look after our horses?’ she said.
‘I . . . um . . . if you want,’ Einar said.
Gytha looked at him for a moment. ‘Why won’t you talk to me?’ she said.
‘I’ll be outside if you need me,’ Einar said, slipped from the stall and out through the door. He closed it behind him.
The mare snorted at Gytha.
‘Don’t you start,’ the girl said. ‘You wouldn’t have done any better.’ She drew the brush firmly along the animal’s back. ‘But he looks fun, and I have three days.’ Stroking the mare’s head gently, she whispered in the horse’s ear, ‘We’ll see who gives up first.’
Chapter 2
Bjorn
Unnthor sat by the riverbank, elbows on knees. His silent stillness blended with the gentle sounds of the river and birdsong from the bushes on the other side. By his feet, sunlight set the surface of the slow-moving water glittering like a cascade of gold. The old man watched as a figure approached from the direction of the longhouse, his stride even and purposeful.
‘Here we go,’ Unnthor muttered.
When he was close enough, Karl saluted. ‘Mother said I would find you here.’
‘Something shifted upriver last year. This has become quite a good spot,’ Unnthor said. He reached for the fishing pole and pulled on the twine until the hook emerged from the water. ‘I thought I’d see if I could grab something extra for the pot.’
‘They’ll bite soon enough,’ Karl said.
‘They usually do,’ Unnthor replied.
‘You’re well.’
‘I get by.’
‘How are things in Glomma?’
Unnthor turned and looked west, towards the mountains that separated them from the Glomma Valley. ‘The usual,’ he said. ‘The odd neighbourly dispute. They still come to me to settle, or when they think they want to know what the gods think about this, that or the other. I never tell them what I think.’
‘Which is?’
‘That the gods are most likely busy doing something much more important than caring about who shags whose daughter.’
Karl smirked at that.
‘We had a cattle thief two years ago.’
‘Really?
‘Traveller from down south. Thought he’d find some simple country folk, pick a couple of easy farms.’ Unnthor smiled. ‘He was not a wise man.’ The shadow of the same smile crept up on Karl’s mouth, and for a moment the two men looked remarkably similar. ‘How about you? I keep hearing stories from the south, but I never know what to believe.’
‘We’ve done well,’ Karl said. ‘I got on a boat with a bunch of hard bastards, captained by a man called Sigurd Aegisson.’
Unnthor whistled. ‘Even up here we’ve heard of him,’ he said. ‘One of Skargrim’s old crew? Hard as the rocks, that one.’
Karl smiled. ‘As hard as he needed to be. We took everything we could in the land of the Saxons, which was a lot – enough to buy me a big farm down south.’
‘I’d heard something about that, but—’
‘Twenty-four head of cattle,’ Karl interrupted.
Unnthor went quiet. ‘Twenty-four,’ he said. ‘That’s . . . that’s impressive.’
‘And forty head of sheep. Four workmen, two of them with wives.’
‘You’ve done better than me, then,’ Unnthor said.
‘Because I didn’t bury my treasure,’ Karl said.
‘I believe a man should earn what he has in life,’ Unnthor snapped. ‘And don’t tell me you believe that old wives’ tale still?’ He stared at his son. ‘There is no hoard,’ he said slowly.
Karl stared back at him, but he did not speak. After a moment, he looked away, down the stream. ‘I thought as much,’ he muttered. ‘Just a tale, anyway.’
‘That’s right,’ Unnthor said. By his feet, the fishing line drifted with the current, slack and lifeless.
*
The knife sliced into the meat with precision and force as Hildigunnur guided the blade slowly, deliberately, skilfully into the lamb, finding the sinews that held muscle and bone together. An arm’s length away, Helga peeled turnips and tried to be invisible.
Behind them, Agla sighed and continued her complaining. ‘I just don’t know what to do with her. She acts—’
‘Exactly like you did when you were young?’ Hildigunnur said, not unkindly.
‘Yes,’ the blonde woman said, deflating onto a pile of furs. ‘And I worry she’s going to make all the same mistakes.’
‘Mistakes aren’t so bad,’ Hildigunnur said, yanking off the leg with a twist. ‘That’s how you get to be wise.’ She turned and winked at Agla. ‘Like us.’
Agla sighed. ‘Yes. Maybe. I just wish she could . . . I don’t know . . .’
‘Be easier to manage? Softer. Kinder.’
‘Yes.’
And where would she get that from? Helga thought.
‘That is sometimes the way with young women,’ Hildigunnur said. ‘They’re horrible, mistake-making, man-eating monsters. Like Helga,’ she added.
‘What? Am not!’ Helga exclaimed.
‘Oh, I bet you are.’ The blonde woman laughed. ‘Bet you’ve got them lined up, sword in hand.’
‘A whole row of them,’ Hildigunnur said, ‘fighting for the honour.’ She added a hip-swing that suggested exactly how Helga’s imaginary suitors might duel. Behind them, Agla cackled with delight.
‘Very funny,’ Helga said, ‘but too accurate. I think you speak from experience, Mother.’
‘I know,’ the older woman said, smiling at Helga. ‘She is a fine one indeed. I have run out of puzzles to pose her, and I cannot teach her more about the gods because she knows it all already. She’s got a nose for curing herbs, too. But now we should stop this talk of strapping boys or she won’t sleep tonight for excitement and thoughts of swordfights – of various shapes and sizes. Tell us news of the world, Agla: what’s happening in the south?’
As Karl’s wife started recounting news of politics and war, Helga snuck a look at her mother and thought of all the times she’d seen Einar wrangle particularly stubborn mares into submission. Mother had a similar look of contented achievement about her.
‘Keep working,’ Hildigunnur said under her breath as Agla prattled on behind them. ‘Food won’t prepare itself.’ The older woman’s knife cut swiftly through the lamb’s neck.
*
It was Jaki who spotted him first. ‘That’s got to be Bjorn.’
‘Where?’ Einar said. He leaned against the gate for a moment, wiping sweat from his forehead.
‘There – down by the bend.’ Jaki pointed, and sure enough, about a mile down the road, two riders walked their horses while a third, trailing behind the walkers, sat slumped in the saddle of the last beast.
‘Do you think he’s ridden at all?’ Einar said.
‘I hope not, for the sake of the poor animal!’
The person on the left, of average height and build, was moving at a calm, even pace. The man on the right was a good head and a half taller, broader and bigger in every sense, making the horse next to him look more like a pony. A dog walked by his side.
‘He’s in no rush,’ Einar said.
Jaki sighed. ‘He rarely is, our Bjorn.’
‘Do you miss them?’ Einar said after a while.
Jaki thought for a couple of breaths before answering. ‘The place is quieter without their shouting, that’s for sure.’
‘But didn’t Bjorn and Karl—?’
‘Eh,’ Jaki said, dismissing Einar with a wave, ‘they weren’t the best of friends – but they were brothers. A little bit of age and distance cures that kind of nonsense. But all four of them are dangerous in their own ways, and I’ve felt a cold in my bones of late.’
Kin (Helga Finnsdottir) Page 2
