Page 53 of A Song of Ravens and Wolves
Thump. Thump. Thump. The first against the door came fast. I leapt back, dropping my skirts. Angus clattered to his feet, legs moving faster than his body had wanted, gaining no traction and his paws upending the platter sending the wet barley scattering across the floor.
‘Lady Olith,’ Thorkell shouted from the door. ‘Your father has arrived; will you be greeting him? Or shall I send him back with one of his men’s heads as a gift?’
‘Just a minute.’ I glanced from the barley at my feet, to Ligach and to the door. ‘What am I going to do?’ I hissed.
‘You’ll pick up that barley as though nothing has happened, and you greet him and his men. We will tell him that when weconfirm if it is a girl or boy you carry, we will send word to him. That should at least buy us a few days.’
‘He wants to know he has an heir to secure peace at these borders.’
With his dying breath, he would wish he had married me to the King of Northumbria. It would have brought more peace than making me a Dane.
‘Then that is exactly what we will do.’
?
‘Father.’ I forced a smile, taking my seat before the fire. ‘I trust that we can be civil towards each other?’ I could barely keep my voice from shaking. This time, I was not alone, half the women lined the walls with Estrid and Halldora the nearest.
‘You have my word.’ He sat before me with only a handful of his men. ‘Now we have the matter of my grandchild, as he will be the firstborn and the heir to Alba. I want to know that it is a boy you carry.’
An heir to Alba. My child. The one thing that I had never wanted to give my father. Half Dane. Half Scot. In that moment, I closed my eyes, and I prayed that God would grant me a girl. A wee girl that would never have to be an heir to the throne. He would not take his eyes off my belly. I did not trust him, but there was little else to be done.
‘Here,’ Ligach said, carrying a platter of barley and placing it before my father. ‘See.’
She stepped back and closed her eyes. She looked as frightened as I was.
He studied the pewter dish before him. Face as stiff and smooth as slate. ‘Tell me the meaning of it.’ He pushed the dish towards me.
The words formed a knot in my throat. My tongue was fat and numb with fear.
‘If barley is sprouted, it’s a boy in the Princess’s belly,’ Ligach said, taking my hand in hers to steady it.
He frowned again, studying it. I searched his face for some clue as to what he was thinking but he gave nothing away.
He banged his hand down on the table, sending the dish skittering. ‘It is done,’ he said, rising from his seat. The rest of his men followed. ‘See when your husband returns you set sail for Atholl, tell him to bring his best warlords, we have the wedding of Jarl Finnleik and Donada to celebrate.’
And with that, they were gone.
I finally let out my breath, legs buckling like a newborn foal. I finally allowed the tears to stream down my face. I steadied myself against the chair.
Ligach rushed to the table, eyes wide and fingers tracing the beads of barley.
‘What is it?’ I said in almost a whisper. ‘Tell me what it is you see?’
The mead hall held its breath.
She turned slowly, holding the thin strip of pewter between both hands.
‘It’s a boy, Lady Olith,’ she said. ‘You’re going to have a boy.’
Chapter 20
It is Better to Stand and Fight. If You Run, You’ll Die Tired
The dawn was warm and cloudless. The last of the summer days before harvest. Two more full moons had passed and there was still no sign of my husband. It felt so much colder then. As though God’s hand could not reach our lands. Their gods, now mine, seemed to bring clouds to this place on the tails of winds and storms.
I sat, rounder and softer now, my skirts heavy with damp. There could be no denying the child in my belly. I was still plagued with nightmares, but their darkness brought me a strange comfort. Angus danced and twisted around in the white foam of the sea. The waves cantered to the shore like white stallions, arching their necks before crashing into the rocks.
I dug the toe of my boot into the sand forming tiny mountains around droplets of saltwater – Atholl from the eyes of Odin’s crows. From up here, I could see where my sister Donada would be, tending to our mother no doubt. I traced the gullies and tracks with a finger, leading to Elpin’s village. The home where we could have raised a child, if only I had agreed to it.
