Chapter 14
After a somewhat agitated night spent tossing and turning in Eadhild’s hut, Gytha found herself saying goodbye to her father at dawn.
Half the Norsemen village had come to wish them good luck.
Chief amongst them was Matilda, whose red eyes attested to the fact that she, too, had spent a sleepless night worrying about the outcome of their expedition.
While Haakon vaulted into the saddle, she pressed a rock into Gytha’s hand.
It was about the size of her palm, flat and shaped like a heart.
“Show this to Osberga when you see her, so she knows I am the one sending you. She will recognize it for the one she found for me one day when we went into the forest to pick mushrooms together. We used to do that a lot with her father when she was young.” Matilda’s voice started to crack.
“And tell her I… Please tell her that I-I love her and never wanted any of this.”
She started crying and Gytha fell into her arms, her own cheeks wet with tears. What would happen if they didn’t bring the little girl back didn’t bear thinking about. Or if they found out she had—
No, she chided herself sternly. She couldn’t give up yet, when they had not even left.
She tucked the rock into the purse at her belt and jumped into the saddle with decision. There was nothing to be gained by prolonging the emotional farewell. They had a long ride ahead of them and a mission to accomplish.
The day was warm and she and Haakon could not resist the temptation of a gallop across fields as soon as they cleared the forest. It was exhilarating. Soon, however, beasts and riders were in need of a drink and they stopped by a babbling stream.
“Your horse really is splendid,” Gytha said, throwing the animal an admiring glance.
She had been surprised to see him ride a mare when they had set off that morning. For some reason, she had expected him to choose a mighty stallion. All the Norsemen she had seen ride thus far did. But his mount was more noticeable for its elegance and beauty than its sturdiness.
Haakon smiled and gave the animal an affectionate tap on the rump. “Yes, she is, even if she has only four legs.”
“Only four?” Gytha snorted. “How many would you like her to have? Ten?”
He let out a throaty laugh that sent shivers all the way to her toes.
“No. Eight will suffice.” When she stared at him in bemusement, he explained.
“Wolf gave her to me four years ago and I called her Sleipnir. That is the name of Odin’s horse, a mare with eight legs birthed by Loki himself, capable of running over water, in the air and in all the directions of the world.
North, South, East, West, up, down, inside and outside. ”
Ah. Of course. She had heard from her father that the people in the village liked to give their horses names of fantastical creatures, Norse or otherwise. Wolf himself had a stallion called Devil.
“I see. But who is this Loki?” Odin was the chief of the gods, or so she seemed to remember, but she didn’t think she’d heard the other name before.
Haakon looked at her as if she had asked who her own father was. Evidently, he had not thought anyone would not know that. “The god of mischief of course.”
“Of course.”
“Don’t you know anything?”
It was her turn to laugh. “Oh, I do. Only not the same things as you.”
“Mm. And why should you? Unlike me, you don’t have a Norse mother.”
“No.” Or any mother. Suddenly, the notion hit her like a blow to the chest. She was still getting used to that awful situation. Would she ever fully accept it, she wondered? She wasn’t sure.
Haakon took a step toward her, looking contrite. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. I shouldn’t have teased you thus.”
“It’s all right, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
Because she could not do what she wanted—nestle in Haakon’s embrace—she gave her gelding a hug instead. The animal had been a gift from her mother, and, by coincidence she had gotten it four years ago as well. It had been love at first sight between her and the beautiful animal.
“My horse was bought for me by my mother,” she said, speaking with her eyes closed. “His name is Bear.”
“Bear. With such a name, he will fit right in the village.”
Gytha stilled. “Will,” he’d said. Not “would.”
She swallowed. He had made it sound as if he thought Bear—and her—would eventually come live in the Norsemen village, like Eadhild. And his voice had gone impossibly soft. If she hadn’t known better she might have thought he was trying to seduce her.
Or perhaps, once again, it was all in her mind.
But she defied anyone not to be overwhelmed in this man’s presence.
Which was precisely why she should be cautious.
Her instinct did not always serve her well where men were concerned.
Theodebert was the perfect example. She had been overwhelmed by what she thought of him, and thus had failed to see that he was not truly interested in her.
“Should we carry on?” she asked, not sure it was wise to stay too near a soft-speaking Haakon.
“Yes.”
Matilda had explained where her village was and they knew it would take them two days to get there, even though they had horses.
It would have taken her husband Gundulf the best part of a week on foot to reach the farm where he had decided to leave Osberga.
This amount of effort was surprising. But perhaps that had been the whole point, and he’d wanted to ensure that the little girl could never find her way back and his wife could never visit on a whim.
As to how he had known about such a remote place, Gytha couldn’t begin to fathom.
But unfortunately, evil always found a way.
She hoisted herself into the saddle, more determined than ever to finally see Matilda and her daughter reunited.
Night had started to fall when Haakon and Gytha entered the forest. Immediately, they heard music and laughter, an incongruous sound in the dark, slightly gloomy surroundings.
“What’s that?” Gytha whispered, echoing his thoughts.
“I know not but it sounds like a large group of people so I’d rather they did not see us,” he said, bringing his horse to a halt next to Bear.
He had no idea how many people were there and was reconsidering crossing the forest at that time.
Even if the noises coming from the camp did not suggest anything other than merriment, one could never be too prudent.
Gytha nodded her agreement and looked over her shoulder. “Let’s get out of the forest and ride along the edge instead,” she suggested.
Yes. Or even better, retreat back to the village they had just left behind and spend the night there. They had hoped the trees would provide protection against the drizzle but he’d rather be wet than risk being assaulted.
“Over here, two travelers!” a voice called out before they could turn around.
Damnation! As brief and discreet as their discussion had been, it had been enough to attract someone’s attention.
A young boy of barely ten summers jumped down from the tree where he’d been hiding and shouted that they had company.
Placed where he was, he was blocking the narrow path.
Short of running him over, there was no way they could retrace their steps.
A moment later half a dozen children had come running, followed by two men who walked at a more sedate pace.
“Stay in the saddle,” Haakon breathed to Gytha, wishing they could speak Norse and keep their conversation secret.
But the people surrounding them were unarmed and they didn’t ask for anything.
Indeed they were smiling and throwing admiring glances at the horses.
This was not an assault, or if it was, it was the weirdest one he could have imagined.
Music and feminine laughter were still heard in the distance, indicating the camp was not made of ruffians about to pounce but families having a pleasant evening under the cover of the trees.
A man wearing an oddly patched jacket and a gold earring addressed them. “Welcome, friends. Our troop has sought shelter in this forest for the night. Will you join us?”
“Your troop?” Haakon asked, ignoring the question.
The man spread his arms in a grand gesture.
“Aye, we are musicians, traveling from fair to fair, delighting the passersby with our music and wondrous tales. We always welcome the chance to hear new stories from strangers, stories we can weave into our own to renew our supply of magic. In exchange for this boon, we provide our guests with a hot meal.” He winked.
“I’m sure that will be welcome on such a miserable night. ”
It would, but Haakon hesitated. Could they agree? Then Gytha threw him a glance. There was such hope in that glance that he knew he would accept the man’s offer. She was tired and hungry and this might be the opportunity they had been looking for.
“I thank you,” was all he said.
The man nodded and led the way to a nearby meadow where the camp was set. A dozen men were sitting around a huge fire, almost as many women, and the handful of children they had just met were chasing each other in the shadows.
Haakon allowed himself to relax somewhat. The group certainly seemed accommodating. Perhaps this was a godsend. After all, such a large group would provide protection from ill-intentioned people on the lookout for lonely travelers. And, as the man had said, they had hot food.
He jumped from the saddle and watched as Gytha did the same. The way she staggered when she hit the ground told him how tired she was. And no wonder. They had traveled all day almost without stopping, something she would be unused to.
He reached out to Bear’s reins and nodded to a fallen log to her left. “Wait here while I make the horses ready for the night.”