Page 14 of Her Dark Viking
Seeing she was awake Steinn approached her. "We must leave this morning. Our journey is a long one..."
"Of course. Yes, I understand. I shall make haste. Someone should have woken me..."
"The Jarl forbade it. You should eat first." He offered her a hunk of bread not yet stale. Mairead took it and realised she was ravenous. She chewed quickly.
"There is more if you wish. Or if you need a few moments to... to, er...."
"Thank you." She put the youth out of his misery. "I do not require any more food right now but I would like a minute or two of privacy. I wonder, could you hold Tyra for me?"
The young warrior accepted his charge with all the enthusiasm of one ordered to comfort a wounded boar. He held the child as though she might spontaneously burst intoflames. Mairead grinned to herself as she tripped away into the undergrowth to do what was necessary.
When she returned a few minutes later it was to see that her bed had been removed and packed away. Steinn was busily engaged in saddling his mount, assisted by a chattering Donald. She glanced about and found Gunnar now holding the baby, and he appeared somewhat more at ease with the burden than had his karl. The Viking chief had seated himself on a fallen log, the infant laid out on his thighs. Gunnar appeared fascinated by the minute fingers and toes which had escaped the confines of the sheepskin wrap provided by him the previous evening to keep the child warm. He prodded the tiny hands and feet with his fingertips. The baby seemed equally entranced, gazing up into the stern, dark features of the man who smiled down at her.
"Shall I take her?" Mairead stepped forward to stand beside him and held out her arms.
Gunnar nodded and passed the baby to her, then rose to tower over his latest acquisition. He again wore his huge cloak of dark grey wolf skin, and his mount pawed the solid earth behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, then gestured to Mairead to follow him. Beside the stallion he again took the baby, then offered her his free hand to use as a mounting step. In moments Mairead was in the saddle, her baby once more tucked within her clothing. Gunnar leapt up behind her, raised his arm to signal their departure, and they were off.
How long would this journey take?Mairead vaguely recalled that Steinn had told her their destination, Gunnarsholm, lay two days riding away to the north. Two days would not be overly arduous she told herself. She was not expected to make the trip on foot, she was comfortable after a fashion, and she had eaten. Her son was beside her, and they were safe.
She leaned back, taking comfort from the solid presence behind her. Gunnar said nothing, but drew his heavy cloakaround her and Tyra to encompass them all in his warmth. Soon, Mairead drifted off to sleep.
When she awoke Tyra was no longer in her arms. She knew a moment's panic, then relaxed as she caught sight of the tiny red-gold head poking out from within the black leather of the Viking's tunic. The baby was sleeping, Mairead saw no cause to disturb her and soon fell asleep again.
They made slow progress, and Mairead was convinced the Vikings were setting a much steadier pace than they otherwise would in deference to herself and the children. Again, she was surprised, had not expected to be treated with such consideration. They stopped twice each day to eat and the fare was good, usually game that the men hunted on the way – rabbits, wild duck, a small doe. There were berries too, and nuts. Meals were taken together around a small fire, and Mairead was cheered to see Donald clearly at ease among these huge warriors who treated him with gruff kindness. It became her habit to tuck Tyra within her own clothing to feed the baby, and at a curt command from Gunnar the men discreetly pretended nothing was happening. All in all, despite the length of the journey, Mairead was content.
She listened all the time to the Norse language as the men chatted around her. Steinn continued to translate when asked, but Mairead could pick out a handful of words for herself now. Donald, too, was rapidly learning the unfamiliar tongue, occasionally replying to one or other of the warriors in their own language.
On the third morning, as they prepared to depart, Stein told her that they would reach Gunnarsholm that afternoon.
"What is it like?" asked Mairead. "Is it a large settlement? Are there many thralls there? Celts such as Donald and I?"
"Not large, no. Perhaps thirty or forty people. Most of the men are here with us, those left behind are women, children,the old. There are slaves, there are always slaves. And yes, some Celts. They work in the fields mostly."
"You are farmers?"
"Yes, and we trade. That is why we raid, to gain goods to sell. Or slaves, since they are also valuable."
Mairead recalled the scene of a few days earlier when Gunnar had bought her son and a cold shiver played along the length of her spine. Despite her growing sense of security, despite Donald's blooming confidence, it would be so easy for their fortunes to change. All depended on the whims and favour of one man. She resolved to speak with Gunnar, ask him exactly what he intended to do with her, with her children. She no longer really believed he meant her harm, but the uncertainty was stifling her. However, this was not a conversation she was prepared to conduct through an intermediary. She rifled through her growing Norse vocabulary and found it still woefully lacking. Mairead sighed and resolved to learn enough of this new tongue to be able to manage for herself – and quickly.
They cresteda hill soon after their midday meal and Gunnar pulled his stallion to a halt. Below them, perhaps two miles distant, lay a small collection of low buildings. The rocky drop to the sea bordered one side and inland the hamlet was ringed by fields of crops.
"Gunnarsholm," announced the dark Viking.
Mairead surveyed the scene in the valley. The place had its own beauty, though the landscape was both stark and rugged. The backdrop of mountains, already capped by snow, hinted at a harsh climate and a hard life if she and her little family were tosurvive here, but she could not find it in her to dislike her first sight of this new home. They could be content, surely...
"It is beautiful, " she murmured, and she meant it.
"Yes," concurred Gunnar, in her tongue. "Yes, beautiful." He nudged his mount back into motion and they started the long descent into Gunnarsholm.
As the warriors approached the village people came running to greet them. Women, children, dogs and even several chickens seemed delighted at the return of the raiders. Their arrival was met with much din, shouts of greeting, tears and laughter in equal measure. Donald remained on the horse as the young Viking he had shared with dismounted and led the animal forward. He exchanged an affectionate hug with a girl of perhaps fifteen summers, his sister, he informed Mairead with a wide grin. The other Norsemen seemed equally delighted to be reunited with the women who had kept their longhouses clean and warm for them in their absence.
Mairead realised she was dreading the moment one of these Viking women claimed Gunnar as her own returning hero. She held herself stiffen in the saddle, glancing from one side to the other and eying each female she saw with anxious suspicion.
In all, she counted about ten longhouses, all windowless and constructed of wooden planks with stone footings. The roofs were thatched, and the doors stood open, she assumed to let in light. One of the structures was clearly a smithy, another served as a tannery. The rest, Mairead supposed, would be the dwellings and these must serve both human and animal occupants since there appeared to be no separate sheds to house the varied livestock roaming freely among the longhouses. Apart from the dogs and poultry there were goats, cattle, a few sheep and pigs. Clearly the occupants of Gunnarsholm appreciated a varied diet.
Most of the dwellings were perhaps twenty feet in width and thirty or so in length, though the structure in the centre of the settlement was at least twice as long as the rest. Gunnar brought his stallion to a stop before the entrance to the largest longhouse, just as two figures emerged. A man and a woman, both of middle years and wearing the rough wool clothing which denoted them as thralls. They both appeared pleased to greet their chief, their features beaming. Their expressions became more puzzled as they regarded the woman and baby with him.
Gunnar spoke to them in rapid Norse. He tossed the reins to the man and dismounted, then held up his arms in invitation for Mairead to pass the infant to him. She did so, and he handed Tyra to the woman, then turned to reach up for Mairead herself. She slipped down into his embrace, staggering a little as she sought to regain her feet after so long in the saddle. Gunnar chuckled and held her until she was steady, then gestured to the woman to hand the baby back.
