Chapter 17
Gytha woke up alone—and naked.
She bolted upright as soon as she remembered why. Panic seized her when she saw that the shed was empty. Where was Haakon? For a dreadful moment she feared he might have fled, racked with guilt at having deflowered her, or even worse, disappointed with their lovemaking.
Then she saw that a basin of water had been put by the fire to warm up.
He had not abandoned her, on the contrary, he had made sure to see to her comfort before going to see to his needs, tend the horses, get more wood or do whatever he needed to do.
Grateful for the attention, she used the water to wash herself, blushing all the while.
She was naked because last night Haakon had made love to her.
She needed that wash because he had reached his pleasure outside her body, coating her with his seed.
She was sore because he had been deep inside her. She was smiling because…
Well, because of all that.
Last night had been spectacular, perfect.
And she wanted more. How could she tell him as much?
She had no idea. In any case, for now they had to concentrate on getting back home and telling everyone the result of their expedition.
He’d said they would ride hard to avoid having to spend another night outside the village and she agreed it was for the best.
She was soon dressed, ready to welcome Haakon.
A moment later he came back, his arms laden with thick branches he placed in the corner of the shed for the shepherd to find when he returned home.
Then he straightened up, turned around, and finally faced her.
The heat from the look he threw her rushed all the way to her toes.
“Are you all right, Saxon? Did you sleep well?”
The use of the familiar nickname, as well as the question, reassured her. He was not angry, he did not resent her for having forced him to deflower her or feel guilty for having surrendered to her pleas.
“I’m all right.”
“Hungry now?” he asked, nodding to the table, where the modest feast she had assembled the evening before lay untouched.
“Famished.”
He smiled. “So am I. Let’s eat then.”
The silence between them was comfortable, like between old acquaintances. Once the bread and cheese had been reduced to crumbs, there was no other alternative but to stand up and leave the shed.
“Haakon—”
“Gytha—”
They spoke at the same time. Then Haakon gestured that she should talk first. As she had no idea what she’d been about to say, she felt herself blush.
“I… Just…wanted to thank you. For last night. For not mocking me. For showing me pleasure. For everything.”
“I think I should be the one thanking you. For trusting me. For giving me pleasure. For everything.”
Her heart melted and she knew she wouldn’t have the courage to say more.
After one last heated glance, they made their way to the horses, which were already saddled, as she had guessed. Soon, they were underway.
They rode hard, as planned, barely exchanging any pleasantries, each lost in their own musings, which she didn’t dare hope centered around the same thing.
At this speed, they might well reach their destination before it was dark.
And indeed, as the light began to fade, they spotted the Norsemen village in the distance.
Though she was reassured they wouldn’t have to spend the night out in the open, Gytha felt they had arrived too soon.
She could have ridden alone with Haakon for days.
To add to her distress, they were coming home empty-handed.
How would they face Matilda, tell her they had no idea where her daughter was?
In her purse the heart-shaped rock seemed to weigh as much as an anvil.
Her own heart was heavy and beating a dull rhythm.
Her head seemed to have been stuffed with cloth and her chest felt strangely hollow.
Dear, oh dear, what was happening to her?
Haakon turned to her. His face was a mask of anguish and suddenly she knew he was about to tell her what he had meant to tell her that morning. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it.
“Gytha, I—”
“It’s all right. I never asked for anything more.” She had asked to be taken. And he had indulged her. He didn’t need to feel guilty for not offering her any sort of commitment afterward. “But I do feel…odd all of a sudden.”
More than odd, actually. The words she’d just spoken echoed into her skull. And why was the light so bright? Wasn’t it supposed to be dusk?
“Is it because of what happened between us?” Haakon sounded stricken—and very far away.
“No. My head is pounding and I’m cold.”
“Cold?” The incredulity in his voice and the worried look on his face when he peered at her told her that it was far from cold. Indeed, though it was late, he was wearing only his undershirt. “Come. The sooner we reach the hut, the better. I think you need to lie down.”
Yes, lie down and close her eyes.
Haakon was getting increasingly worried. At first Gytha had managed to ride normally but she was now swaying in the saddle. Her face was flushed, even though she had complained of the cold and her eyes were barely open.
At this rate he wondered if they would reach the hut before she needed assistance.
How long had she been feeling poorly? She should have told him earlier she was not well.
Hell, he should have noticed something was not right.
Why, oh why had he paid so little attention to her during the day?
Because, coward that he was, he’d been embarrassed, and all too glad to travel in silence.
In his haste to get back, he’d pushed her too hard.
And here was the result.
What was ailing her? She had seemed hale and hearty that morning and it had not been overly cold today.
It had not even rained. Had she caught something from the musicians or in that damned filthy village?
He didn’t know, and it hardly mattered. What he needed to know was not where she had caught the fever but how to get her better.
By the time they reached his hut night had almost fallen and Gytha could barely sit straight.
Haakon jumped down from Sleipnir, and nodded to her to do the same.
She slid off the saddle without a word, weak as a kitten.
Had he not been there to catch her, she might well have fallen in a heap on the ground.
But he was here, so he swept her into his arms. She didn’t protest or comment.
“Torsten, over here!” he called out, sounding slightly panicked.
His friend lived in the hut next to his and would see to the horses while he took care of Gytha.
“Ah, Haakon, you’re back. Aife and I were just saying we had— What happened, is she hurt?” Torsten ran up to him, the smile on his face vanishing at the sight of the woman in his arms.
“No. But she’s ill. See to the horses, will you, and go get Helga.”
“I’ll go,” offered Aife, who had come out of the hut in turn. “I won’t be long.”
“Thank you.”
Relieved everything was in hand, Haakon brought Gytha inside his hut and straight to the pallet. There she started shaking her head this way and that, moaning.
“I feel odd,” she repeated.
“Yes, I know,” he said, stroking her forehead lightly, removing a strand of hair from her brow.
She felt hot to the touch, too hot, and he hated to see her so weak, nothing like her usual brave, bold self.
“But it will be better soon, Aife has gone to get Helga, the healer. She will give you what you need to feel better.”
She nodded and closed her eyes.
Feeling at a loss, Haakon went to pour her a drink, and then had one himself.
Though there was nothing wrong with him, he, too felt odd.
What would he do with Gytha? Should he send her to someone who could look after her, like her friend Eadhild?
As soon as the idea crossed his mind, he rejected it.
She would stay here, with him. No one else would take care of her.
He brought her the drink he’d prepared, which she emptied in a few gulps.
A moment later the door opened on Aife, followed by Cwenthryth.
“I went to find Helga, as you asked but the hut was empty so I decided to go to Cwenthryth instead,” his friend told him.
Haakon nodded. Though she was a midwife rather than a healer, Steinar’s wife would know what to do better than he did.
“Thank you.”
He and Aife left the hut while Cwenthryth examined Gytha.
“How did it go?” his friend asked cautiously. She would have seen that they had come without the little girl, of course. But perhaps they had found valuable information?
They had not.
“No one has seen Osberga. Worse, no one seems to care,” he told her, running a hand through his hair. “And that Gundulf has to be one of the vilest individuals I’ve ever seen.”
He kept to himself the encounter with the troop of musicians. It was not worth worrying her for nothing. He did not talk about the night in the shepherd’s hut either. That was for him and Gytha only.
“So it was all for nothing.”
Well. No. Precisely because of that night in the shepherd’s shed. He would treasure the memory forever.
“I don’t know how to face Matilda,” he said instead, looking at his feet. “She will be devastated.”
“Yes. Poor woman.” Aife sounded just as devastated. Of course, mother to a daughter herself, she would feel the whole horror of the situation in her gut.
“Thank you for getting Cwenthryth for me. It’s late, go back home your daughter and give her a kiss from me.”
It wasn’t long after Aife’s departure that Cwenthryth joined him.
“How is she?” he asked, more nervous than he had been in a while.
“She’s fallen asleep after taking the willow bark infusion I gave her. We can only let nature run its course and try to make her more comfortable by lowering her body temperature. Don’t cover her too much and bathe her regularly with cool water.”
Haakon nodded slowly. She was assuming Gytha would stay under his roof and he would be capable of tending to her half naked body without going mad with need. Which he would, because that was what she needed. He would just have to forget his doubts and urges.
“I will do whatever needs doing.”
Cwenthryth led him back into the hut to show him the herbs she had brought and explained what he should do with them.
He threw a glance to the pallet, where Gytha was sleeping, looking flushed.
Should he send someone to town to tell her father they were back?
No, not yet, he decided. It was already nighttime and Elstan would not expect them to be back until the morrow at the very least, so he wouldn’t be worrying.
Better to wait and see how Gytha spent the night first. There was little point in telling him his daughter was back, only to add that she was not able to travel anyway.
“All right, I will leave you now, if that’s ok.”
“Of course. Thank you for coming. And, Cwenthryth, before you leave…” Haakon started, doing his best not to reduce the bag of dried herbs he was holding to powder. “There’s something I never told you… That is… I never apologized for what I told you the night Rowena and Thorfinn got married.”
“What do you mean?”
Wonderful. Steinar made sure to remind him of his ill-considered words almost every time they met, but it seemed that his wife didn’t even remember them. It had never been an issue in her mind. Had she even noticed he had hinted none too subtly that she would enjoy sucking his cock?
“Well, I thought I might try my luck with you that day but I was a bit heavy-handed, I fear,” he offered. He would not be more specific, could not.
“Oh, yes, I seem to remember Steinar saying something to that effect.” She waved her hand and gave a little smile. “He was very angry about it. But don’t worry, I never thought anything of it. I hadn’t even realized anything until he pointed to me how what you said could be interpreted.”
Haakon gritted his teeth. He would kill Steinar next time he saw him. Without him, Cwenthryth would not have thought twice about what he had said.
“I’m still sorry,” he said, feeling better for having finally apologized to her.
“Think nothing of it.” She placed a hand over his, stopping the nervous crunching of the bag. “And try to get some rest. You look tired yourself. I will be back on the morning.”