Chapter 16
ERANN
Erann lurched towards his spot in the sleeping loft, thinking about what had happened earlier.
He knew he hadn’t actually seen his father in the blizzard, but couldn’t stop wondering why he’d pictured him right when he needed help the most. He’d never had a vision of his father like that before – not even in his worst moments.
Even now, if he closed his eyes, he could still feel his father’s hand on his back, steering him home.
Erann shook his head. Maybe he’d just wanted to see his father so badly – and wanted to survive so badly. Somewhere deep within, his mind knew it was the push he needed to get back inside.
When his father had been exiled, everything changed.
Rankil took their wealth, and with it, the people who’d worked in their home and on their land.
He’d turned them into virtual slaves who were paid only in bed and board.
His steading was much smaller than Ramon’s, so the conditions were cramped.
He didn’t value them as members of his family, as Ramon and Ingun had.
Anya had stayed as long as she could, but eventually she went as well.
She’d said she wanted to go, but even Erann had realised she’d only left because she didn’t want the family to struggle to feed the three children.
Even as a child, Erann had been aware of Anya’s extraordinary gift with herbs and healing.
How he wished she were still here now. She’d know how to help his mother.
Ever since his father had failed to return from his exile, Ingun had lost her will to live.
This illness was only the latest example.
As the days of the previous Long Day had started to shorten at both ends, he’d noticed her lethargy.
He’d shared her hopes his father would reappear.
He’d held them dear himself since his father’s exile.
Last Long Night, there’d been a keen anticipation among them all, and his mother had been talking of how things would change when his father returned and cleared his name.
She’d repeated her assertion that Ramon would resume his position as Jarl of the Eastern Quarter until even Erann had grown weary of hearing it.
There’d been a definite lightness to their steps when the Dawning of the Long Day had finally arrived, a suppressed excitement that all would be set right and Rankil would be punished for what he’d done to them.
As the days had reached their zenith, Erann had often caught his mother gazing into the distance towards Vatna Jokull, looking for her husband and his father.
They’d purposefully not gone to the Full Council meeting last Long Day because they’d not wanted to miss his return.
That was why they now struggled to make their supplies last. They had too much peat and not enough barley.
The Full Council meeting was mainly meant to bring everyone together to talk about news and decide how to deal with injustices, but it also doubled as a chance for people to swap goods.
Folks would usually trade some of their animals and excess barley for things they didn’t have much of, like wood and peat.
Now Erann understood his father would never have been able to restore his status and position immediately.
He would have had to assert his innocence of the charges brought against him at the Full Council meeting, which his return from exile would have proven.
But he and his mother had been so wrapped up in waiting for Ramon to return, they’d forgotten that.
So when Ramon hadn’t arrived, a deep sadness had infected all of them.
This rotation, they’d have to go to the Full Council meeting.
They’d have to stand there and listen as a judgement of guilt against his father was made official.
He hadn’t come back after his seven rotations in exile, and by law, that meant he was guilty of the accusations levelled against him by Rankil and those who’d stated Ramon had stolen from them.
Rankil would officially become Jarl of the Eastern Quarter, and there’d be no chance of them getting their old life back.
Erann wondered if that was why his sister had been so eager to marry Rankil.
Aras had taken their father leaving badly.
Over time, her sadness had turned into resentment over everything she’d lost. Marrying Rankil was a way to get it all back.
She’d only been ten rotations old when their father was exiled, and even though Erann and their mother tried to keep his memory alive by talking about him all the time, maybe it just hadn’t been enough.
After all, Hakon had no recollections of him at all.
At first, Erann had been so angry with his sister for betraying his family.
Over the Long Night, he’d come to realise she was merely trying to make the best of a bad situation.
Perhaps she hoped to help her family? He’d need to seek her out and apologise for their last argument.
It had been more his fault than hers. He saw that clearly.
His anger was gone, replaced by a numbing sense of shame.
He’d lost all of his boyhood waiting for something that was never going to happen.
He straightened and cracked his head on the beam that ran the length of the loft, his bitter thoughts tumbling away.
‘By the Gods,’ he exclaimed. ‘How many times must I do this before I learn it’s not as tall as I am?’
Rubbing his head, he felt a lump already beginning to form.
‘By the Gods,’ he repeated. It was going to hurt before it healed. Not only had he hit his head, but he’d also disturbed something in the rafters, which had fallen to the floor.
‘What’s this?’ he asked, feeling for the soft object with his outstretched hand.
Grimacing and still rubbing his head with his left hand, he shuffled back towards the ladder to the lower floor of his steading. In the dim glow from the fire that only just reached this far, he unwrapped the package.
‘Why is this here?’
It was his father’s journal. A memory of the last time he’d seen his father came into his mind. His father had been upstairs before Rankil had come to take him away. His father must have stowed the journal before hurrying to the door.
Reverentially, Erann ran his hands down the soft binding he’d not been supposed to touch as a child.
The hide was soft and well-worn, the shadow of a deeper red visible along the spine.
The journal fell open to show his father’s neat but cramped handwriting.
Erann felt a pulse of sorrow at the sight, and then frowned.
What had his father been writing? The journal page held two columns of numbers, almost identical. Or rather, they were identical at the top of the page.
Erann ran his fingers down the columns of numbers in the weak light.
What was this?
His father had prized this journal, and it had been his only secret from Erann.
There’d been nothing else in the steading Erann had been forbidden from touching.
But what did these numbers mean? He thoughtfully rewrapped the journal and took it back to his bedside.
He’d look at it further in the morning. Right now, his head was pounding from hitting it, and his body was starting to shake in remembered cold from earlier. He needed to sleep.