A loud crash sounded behind him, followed by a startled whinny. Before he had time to react, Alvis came barreling toward him down the narrow path he'd made. The stallion wasn't stopping. Björn didn't have anywhere to go but into the snow. As Björn threw himself toward the place that looked thinnest, the impact with Alvis' front end tossed him deeper into the compacted frozen substance. Alvis, however, kept running, free into the night as the ten-foot wall of snow collapsed, turning everything around him white…before all visibility vanished.
"Come quick!" A man bustled into the great hall, panting. "Björn's back."
Hela stood too quickly from the bench, nearly tripping over the hem of her gray, woolen gown in the process. Birger the Wise had already gained his feet and took massive strides in the direction of the messenger. "What happened?" he asked, not stopping when he reached the door.
She hesitated for a moment before following them out into the cold night. What if he still didn't want to see her?
"Looks like he was digging his way through the snow. Horse became spooked, ran him down. He stayed mostly out of the way but took a blow before the snow fell on him. If Halvar hadn't heard the shout and gone to investigate as Alvis tore through the clearing, we would have never known until it was too late."
Hela held her skirts up as she kept pace with the men. Truthfully, she should be furious with Björn and leave him be. He'd made his stance perfectly clear on the subject of his father's marriage arrangement—and on his feelings about her. She was displeasing to him; why else would he have left to complete such a ridiculous task? Not that she wanted to marry anyone she didn't love, but she did want to experience mortal life. If marriage was part of it, she wasn't opposed to it.
She had been angry the first night though. Mayhap even a bit insulted. She understood why her circumstances were suspicious, and she had reasoned with herself…after a good night's sleep and a hearty morning meal. While gods could survive on little to no mortal food, it was a rare treat for her to be brought something to eat in Niflheim, and the sustenance had been the best part of her stay in Midgard so far.
They neared the strange wall of snow that surrounded the entire village and its farms. Yet the snow which had fallen consistently within Iskygge hadn't piled up much at all. It was almost as though, through some sort of enchantment, it was set a certain way. Hela hadn't realized this was unusual at first. Not until she'd heard the superstitious whispers about it. About her. About how other things had been…off ever since she'd arrived.
Some of the village women were particularly upset about Birger wanting her to marry Björn, and had given her an especially hard time. However, taunts were part of the mortal experience, and she chose to ignore them. The only person's opinion that seemed to matter since her arrival had been Björn's, which bothered her more than she would like. But she couldn't deny it, even though she wished she could understand why his rejection had affected her so much.
A loud groan in the dark ahead made her quicken her gait. Birger stopped beside Erik and another man she assumed was Halvar, and the man who had come to fetch the jarl crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. "I cannot find a clue to what spooked Alvis. Mayhap a bear or a wolf drawn to the fire. The fool forgot to put it out, or I suspect meant to when he went to fetch the horse."
Birger kneeled beside his son and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right?"
Björn groaned again but nodded stiffly. As he lifted his head to speak, his gaze collided with Hela's. "My trip proved fruitless." Hearing his deep voice again thrilled her, and she cursed her reaction. He'd walked out and left her alone that first night. She shouldn't gain excitement from the sound of his voice. Or seeing his handsome face. Oh, but he was handsome.
Her heart beat a little faster. Wasting four days was a much better outcome than the king storming into the village to seize her. To imprison or kill her. Try to, anyway.
"Wonderful!" Birger rose to his feet and clapped his hands together. "The wedding will go as planned tomorrow. Even more to feast about." His grin lit his face as he looked at first her and then his son. "Hela and you have much to talk about, so we will leave you with her for now. A lot of…mysterious circumstances in your absence, son." He winked at Björn who furrowed his brow as he contemplated the meaning to those words.
Without waiting for a reply, the jarl gestured for the others to go and then they began to walk back through the trees to the village beyond. Not expecting to be alone with Björn so soon, she fidgeted, clasping her fingers in front of her in various awkward positions, and then moving them to her sides, gripping her skirts. "How was your journey?" she asked, cringing. He'd already said it had been fruitless. A waste of time. But she rather talk about that than the strange circumstances everyone attributed to being because of her, which was bound to be true, unfortunately.
Björn used the tree beside him to climb to his feet, and she rushed to assist him, one hand on his elbow and the other on the back of his shoulder. He looked at her, their faces inches apart. His gaze dropped to her lips, his own parting. Would he kiss her? Would she let him?
He turned his head, steady on his feet. He winced and brought his right hand around to his left side over the ribs. "I shall be bruised for a few days. Thankfully, I managed to avoid the hooves. Nothing is broken."
"I am glad to hear that." And she was. While his leaving had set them back from forming any sort of relationship, be it mere friends or otherwise, she didn't wish to see him harmed.
Neither spoke for a moment, and then Hela took a deep breath and said, "I understand why you went. You had to be sure—"
"—I did not mean to make you feel like there was something wrong with you," Björn said at the same time. "Have you remembered anything about how you came to be in the woods that night?"
Cheeks growing hot, Hela glanced away. "Nay." Of course, his suspicions would be first and foremost on his mind the moment he returned.
She couldn't tell him the truth. Not yet. Mayhap if this desire to be near him continued to grow. If he wanted her. Then she could tell him. It was a lot to burden a mortal with. Not to mention the oddities in the village…
"Did anything else happen while I was away?" he asked. "What was my father talking about?"
Hela grimaced. "Well…"
When she didn't continue, Björn gestured toward the village. "Let us walk while you tell me. It is cold, and I want to be in front of a hearth."
How silly of her! She should have thought abought his comfort, forgetting how fragile humans were. Hela assisted him back, and even though his gait evened out as they reached the village, he didn't pull away. She suspected he was keeping an arm around her shoulders because he wanted to, and she wouldn't point it out because she kind of liked it even though it confused her further. Did he desire her, or did he not? Were all mortals so complicated? His body radiated a calming warmth that soaked into her through her clothing. Björn smelled like sandalwood and smoke from being near a fire earlier, but it wasn't unpleasant. Part of her wanted to lean in and sniff him, but mayhap that would be strange.
"Where is your home?" she asked as the first long house came into view.
"I have a room in the keep. Where I suspect you have been staying." He stopped abruptly, then stepped away from her to gaze at the large pit in the center of the village where the Yule log had been burning, and would through the twelve-day celebration.
Usually.
"What has happened to the fire?"
Hela shook her head. "The cause is yet to be discovered." She had a suspicion: her father. "The flames keep going out. They have tried different logs, different means of starting a fire and keeping it going. It refuses to stay lit." This had put a solemn mood over the Yule celebrations the past two days. Many found it to be a bad omen. Those who had converted saw it as a sign that pagan traditions should be forgotten. Discontent had arisen in the aftermath of the problem.
Björn shook his head and exhaled a long, slow breath. "What is happen
ing in this village?"
Her presence there was ruining everything. Nay, it was better if she never told him the truth of who she was. Would he look at her the way he did the Yule log? Suspicion and incredulity clouded his eyes, and his lips were in a hard line. He'd never believe her, and what if those who had converted to Christianity didn't welcome her there? Would Bjorn accept her for who she was, or would he, like many of the women in the village, call her a heathen witch?
"You should come inside. Warm yourself by the fire." She placed a hand on his arm and he jumped at the contact. What had he been thinking about so intently that he'd forgotten she was there with him?
"Aye," he said, sounding wearier than he had since he'd been back in her presence. "Warmth and a good night's rest would be best. I can figure out what this is about on the morrow."
She highly doubted that he would.
Chapter 4
Björn had barely slept. Something strange was happening in Iskygge. First Hela's mysterious arrival, the disappearance of her father and her memory. The snow wall and the happenings with the Yule log, which was not much different than his experience with the torches. Instinct told him Hela knew more things had gone wrong and hadn't wanted to tell him, but he intended to find out after breaking his fast.
Dressing quickly, he left the keep and headed straight to the great hall. He paused in the doorway as his gaze fell on Hela. She looked up from her food as though sensing him there and they stared at each other for a moment. He started forward, realizing the best way to break whatever hold she had over his senses was to stop avoiding her and let whatever occurred…to occur. Freshly baked bread made his mouth water as he sat down next to Hela and started to pile food upon his plate. "I trust you slept well?" he inquired before dribbling some honey over a chunk of bread. He enjoyed honey, mayhap more than he should.
"Aye, and you?"
He winked at her and took a bite of the honeyed bread. Closing his eyes, he held in a groan. Why was the sticky, sweet substance so indulgent? Björn opened his eyes and caught Hela staring at him, her mouth opened ever so lightly. She quickly turned away. That look spoke words a woman never had to say aloud. She desired him. He swallowed too quickly and coughed as heat rushed to his groin. Would her lips taste as sweet as the honey?
Björn took a swig of the first thing he found in a mug and choked a second time. Buttermilk. He'd expected water or ale. "Yours?" he asked and set the mug down next to her.
"Aye. Are you all right?" Her shy smile twitched as though she fought the urge to laugh at his unfortunate encounter with her drink.
His cheeks heated. "Did not chew properly," he lied.
A scream tore through the village, and Björn leaped to his feet. He reached for his belt and cursed. His sword was left in the snow somewhere unless the others had brought it back. He'd have to collect it later. Giving a sorrowful last glance at his plate of food, he left Hela and many others to see to the problem.
"He's dead," someone shouted. "Dead!"
Pushing through the gathering crowd, Björn raced up the few steps to the longhouse that had been converted into a church of sorts. Benches filled one end and an altar had been built on the other with a cross hanging on the wall over it. Upon the altar, however, was their village priest. He didn't see any obvious signs of murder, but that didn't rule it out completely. There were imperceptible means of killing a man.
"It was the witch," a woman whispered behind him. Björn turned his head as he kneeled next to the body to examine it. Ragnhild was an attractive, red-headed woman wearing trousers instead of a dress. A shield-maiden who had pursued him quite forcefully since his father's decree to marry him by the end of Yule became known. He liked her well enough, as a warrior. She held her own. He didn't feel anything for her beyond friendship, however. "All of this started when she arrived. She does not wish to marry the jarl's son. Used black magic to construct the wall to keep him out. Now the priest has been murdered."
"I would be careful about making wild claims you cannot back up with evidence if I were you," Björn said. Ragnhild didn't seem at all surprised he'd heard her. Interesting. Hearing Hela referred to as a witch did not sit well with him though. She was strange, but magic didn't exist. Not for mortals. And if the old gods were real, well…they'd abandoned Norway long ago. Yet Ragnhild had not converted to Christianity yet, so her using the priest's death as a way to cause trouble for Hela was more irritating than anything else.
He'd deal with Ragnhild's antics at a later time. The priest needed his immediate attention. Björn examined the man's face, cold and stiff now to the touch. His eyes were closed and one hand rested over his chest where it clutched the fabric of his cloak over his heart. There wasn't any blood, nor had any food or drink been left nearby to account for a possible poisoning. His heart mayhap had simply given out as some were prone to do. Such a painful way to go…
The rest of the morning was spent making arrangements for burial. The village had a small graveyard for those who wished to use it, though many of the older generations preferred the burial at sea. The country was at a precipice of being forced to leave the old traditions behind and embrace the new. For many, it wasn't so simple.
Björn hadn't seen Hela since the morning meal he'd barely touched, and he wondered what she had been doing while he was preoccupied with the unfortunate death of the priest. Now that she had entered his thoughts, it surprised him that she hadn't followed along to see what had happened. Mayhap she hadn't wanted to seem over-eager to be around him, and that concept bothered him for reasons he couldn't determine the source of. She had seemed interested in him when they met, and then he'd left for days and ruined any chance he had at—
At what? He didn't want or need a wife.
He was saved from over-thinking when his stomach rumbled, reminding him that he'd barely eaten that morning. So he started toward the kitchens. As Björn neared it, however, his father came out of the keep and waved him over. With a groan and a silent apology to his empty stomach, he trekked over the lightly snow-dusted ground toward the jarl.
"I have been looking for you," his father said and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you for seeing to the priest this morning. It gave me the opportunity to arrange other things."
Björn arched an eyebrow. "Like what?"
"Your marriage, of course." The man's smile showed all his teeth and the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes.
"You jest," Björn said, frowning. "The priest that would marry us is dead. With the snow around the village, bringing another one may take days." Which actually worked in his favor, as unfortunate as the death was. With King Olaf's desire to see the country converted to Christianity, the village had been performing Christian marriages to appease him despite not everyone having converted—by choice or otherwise—just yet.
Birger waved a hand dismissively. "Do you not see the signs? The strange goings on, the priest dying, Hela's name. It has to be a pagan wedding."
That was the last thing he'd thought his father might say. "But…the king—"
Yet Birger would hear none of his argument and cut him off before he could say more. "Hela was sent here when you were in need of a wife. The elements have stalled our celebrations, which have long since been changed through the years to benefit the days Christians celebrate." Excitement brought a smile to his face and he waved his arms around wildly. "So they send a woman named for a goddess to us, separate us from a mostly Christian country and take away our priest."
"Or, mayhap, the bad fortune has to do with the Yule log going out and nothing else." It was a superstition, but it made more sense than the gods planting a woman there and wanting acknowledgement. "Are you not even the least bit upset by that man's death?"
"Of course I am!" His father scowled. "I am merely pointing out that the signs have not been subtle."
Björn chose not to push the argument. It was clear his father had made up his mind.
"Have you been to the farms today, son?" Birger said in a soft
tone. With the way this conversation was going, this new subject didn't bode well. "The nisse are causing disruption and refuse to help keep the houses clean. They have hidden all sorts of items."
Björn rolled his eyes. The farmers believed staunchly in the nisse; little old gnome-like creatures with long white beards that assisted in their daily chores. Porridge would be left out for them, and any time something went wrong or the slightest thing spooked them, the nisse were to blame for it. Björn never had reason to believe in the creatures, but supposedly they were useful in tending to the farms.
"You think I should marry a woman I just met because the nisse, whom we have never seen, are acting up?" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "As far as I am concerned, the circumstances around Iskygge seem to be signs not to go through with the wedding." He recalled Ragnhild's words from earlier. "It all started with Hela's arrival and escalated after the marriage was arranged by you."
Birger threw his head back and laughed. "You have been listening to the talk of her being a witch." It wasn't a question, and when Björn didn't join in his laughter or respond, he added, "Stop making excuses. You shall marry the girl. Do this one thing for me before I grow any older and die of a heart ailment like the priest did."
With that, his father wandered off, and resigned to his fate and feeling foolish for acknowledging Ragnhild's thoughts about the situation, Björn continued his quest to find something to eat so he would make it to the wedding and the feast that would follow.
Hela hadn't seen Björn since morning. But word of the priest's untimely death had spread quickly to the great hall. She had been left alone, for the most part, to return to her room where she currently stood, looking at her reflection in the water basin. She'd meant to wash her face and contemplate the remainder of her time there, but instead of thinking about herself, she thought about him. Björn.
Hela Takes a Holiday Page 4
