I knew not the words of her venomous oath, but their meaning couldn’t have been clearer.
* * *
When Eirik took me in his arms that night, I thought of Bodil. She must have lain in this very bed, Eirik’s weight above her as he uttered his deep groan of pleasure, shuddering to his release inside her. I imagined the imprint of her kisses, of her hands that had stroked and explored his body.
She must have looked for his longship even more eagerly than the others—anxious for the return of her lover. What jealousies she must feel. I wondered with what words Eirik had parted from her and whether he’d been to visit her since his homecoming. It would be too cruel for him to have said naught, allowing her to discover by word of mouth that I’d taken her place.
And what of the child? Did Eirik know him for his own? All these weeks I’d waited to feel his seed growing in me. I’d surrendered to his love-making countless times, but where was my baby?
My heart ached. I would have struck him, but he clasped me to his chest and murmured with his usual ardour. I was his love, his goddess, his enchantress, more precious than silver or gold, my beauty surpassing all other treasures.
His lips were soft and gentle and his body hard. I shivered under his touch and cried as I rode the waves of my ecstasy.
I wished there to be no past, for either of us.
Little good it would do me to think on Bodil or the other Svolvaen women who must have writhed in Eirik’s embrace. How many, like Bodil, might follow me with ill-thoughts, borne of resentful rivalry? I could have spoken but I kept silent. To speak of my fears would be to make them real.
* * *
It was late into the night when I woke to a cool draught upon my skin and a figure looming above. I thought at first that it was Bodil, come to claim Eirik for her own and pull me from the bed. Her face twisted in malice and, to my half-wakened state, I saw her as some malevolent wraith. The horror of it choked me. Only when she spoke did I realize that it was no phantom beside me, but the ghost of another, living, lover: one who’d shared Eirik’s bed even more recently than Bodil.
“I’m here for him,” she said. “If he wishes it.”
My anger overtook any fear I’d felt. Was there to be no peace for me, for us!
“Eirik is asleep, Faline, as you can see.” I reached for the covers, which she’d thrown from me as I slept. “Go back to your own bed. You aren’t needed here.”
“Another time, then.” She gave no apology. If anything, I sensed her amusement.
How long had she stood over me?
5
The next day, as Helka and I set out, it reminded me of the first days of our acquaintance, when I’d led her into my own woodlands, her Northmen wanting to find the best oak with which to make new oars. My heart quickened as we left the bright sun of the open sky, entering the half-light of the forest, canopied over with lush foliage. The season was turning but only a few trees had begun to alter colour and shed. The forest was alive, its uppermost reaches touched by the wind and the birds while small creatures moved beneath the leaves underfoot.
It had been some time since Helka and I had been alone, and I was gladdened to have her to myself. Upon less trodden paths, we walked briskly, Helka directing me to where dark sloes ripened on the bushes and the densest clutches of hazelnuts grew, for roasting.
It was upon the tip of my tongue to confide in her my meeting with Astrid, to seek her advice, but I kept the events of the previous day to myself. I’d tell her, perhaps, when I’d affected a cure; it would bring me greater pleasure to detail the challenge and my solving of it within the same story. Of Bodil, I resolved to make no mention, for I wished to hear no confirmation of what pained me.
Our sacks were soon brimming with docks, nettles and lambs-quarters, milk thistle, figwort and heart of the earth.
I’d always felt most content in the forest. It was where my childhood adventures had taken place, where I was free to climb and muddy my clothes, with none to tell me how a girl should behave. With the boys as my playmates, I’d learnt to be brave and to delight in the freedom of running wild. My grandmother had indulged me until I began the path to womanhood. With that change, my liberty had ended. How quickly my grandmother had placed me in my uncle’s bed, a man three times my age. I’d cursed the day my aunt had followed my mother to the grave and left me to take her place.
“You’ve become quiet, Elswyth.” Helka placed a handful of lingonberries into her basket. “Does ought ail you?”
I popped a berry in my mouth, wincing at the bittersweet taste on my tongue. “Just remembering.”
“You miss your village?”
I watched her fingers pluck the crimson fruit. “Only my grandmother. Not much else.”
“And how do you settle?” she asked.
I gave a small shrug. “I don’t yet belong, but I will, I know. I must find my own way to being accepted.”
“And Eirik is good to you?”
I nodded, squeezing a berry so that its juice ran over my fingers. As a bed companion, I was fulfilled; his prowess continued to leave me breathless.
