Page 24 of A Song of Ravens and Wolves
I turned to run. I could feel my whole being wanting to crawl out of my chest.
‘Lady Olith, wait.’ Halldora grabbed me again. ‘Our dead are not there. All of the Jarl’s ancestors are in Valhalla, only their ashes remain here in Midgard.’ She pulled at me again.
‘I will not be a party to desecrating a man’s grave.’
I turned.
‘Look.’
As she said it, I watched Sigurd lift a sword aloft. In the flickering torchlight, the blade cast a shadow as though he was split in two. Was it an omen of what was to come?
Through a haze of tears, I watched the Jarl twisting and turning the sword before him, the rest of them clapping him on his back. I felt Halldora’s hand on my shoulder. ‘That is the sword they have come for,’ she whispered. ‘Dry your eyes, LadyOlith,’ she squeezed my shoulder. ‘Those who are married have all been here, you will learn to love him, and you do not want him to see you cry.’
She was right, all those years ago. I learned to love him. I learned to love every part of him, even those parts of him that kept me awake at night and broke my heart when they left me.
I turned and saw the men, all smiles escorting Jarl Sigurd back to the Mead Hall and Angus padding merrily behind. Even my hound could not be loyal to me.
I brushed away the tears with the back of my hand.
‘Come,’ she said, ‘back to Estrid.’
I smiled and followed, hoping that there would be enough of Estrid’s honied mead to make me forget my foolish decision.
Chapter 10
Nothing Good Can Come to Those That Break Their Solemn Vows
When I woke, I found myself tucked beneath a thick woollen blanket in only my shift. I started to sit up very carefully; hands clasped to my head, which felt as though it would roll free from my shoulders. I tried to close my eyes, but everything began to spin.
With age comes wisdom, at least that is what we are led to believe. I find we are much wiser now. More wrinkled, but we have still been known to celebrate our youth well spent and Estrid’s recipe for mead is a great accompaniment.
I cautiously opened one eye and glanced about the room. The vague shapes of Estrid and Halldora came into view, staring down at me disapprovingly from the foot of the bench. I listened to the muffled chattering in Norse, doubtless eager for the day’s festivities to begin.
‘Come along now,’ Estrid said, pulling the blanket from me and levering me up from the bench. ‘We must get you ready.’
‘Ready,’ I said through a mouth that felt as though I had licked the bottom of the pig pen.
‘Yes, you do not want to miss your wedding.’
The fear of marrying your first husband is a rite of passage that every woman has to go through, but I can say truly that I would have rode to Hell for the Devil himself rather than have married the Jarl.
Estrid began roughly combing my hair, while Halldora took the finished segments and plaited it with strands of coloured threads of gold and green.
‘Now, which dress will you choose?’ said Halldora, the answer to which she had been waiting for since I’d arrived on Orkney. She held up the first of the dresses for my inspection. ‘This is a beauty.’
I touched it. Letting the fabric slip between my fingers like water. I had never worn anything like it. Nor did I intend to. Then, I believed that I would never be redeemed if I dressed like a pagan. I wanted to wear something of my own. You shall have no other Gods before me and there I was, entering into a marriage before false gods. But, why should we worship a God that will not help us? Fabric is fabric and bones are bones. Even Odin himself is subjected to fate. They do not care of the clothes we wear. Of the men, we lie with. We and the gods have an obligation to each other, that is paid for in the gifts each brings.
But there I was, wanting to wear something befitting a good Christian woman. I took a deep breath to steady myself.
Estrid shot Halldora a look.
‘What about one of my own dresses?’ I muttered.
‘If it would make you feel more comfortable?’
I nodded.
Between them, they fumbled through the handful of dresses my father had allowed me to bring, finally settling on one that reminded me of a winter forest. It was heavy silk, as green as the pines and embroidered with the gold of thistles and fastened with leather ties. The high neckline was inlaid with gold and cinched at the waist and the belled sleeves hung long.
