Chapter 4
As she straightened her back from sweeping the ashes from the firepit, Cwenthryth found herself face-to face with Steinar’s sister Eyja, whom she had met the other day. The woman was smiling at her from the doorway, one hand resting on her swollen stomach.
“Good morning. Cwenthryth, is it not? We never had the chance to talk the other day,” she said, coming forward.
“No.” And no wonder. A glowering Steinar in the background was not conducive to any kind of conversation. He had almost tripped over his own feet whisking his sister away, as if he feared her pervading influence.
“Well, we could do it now, could we not? No one is going to object this time.” Eyja offered, her smile widening. “Would you accompany me to the lake beyond the forest? It’s such a hot day, I feel like a swim. You might enjoy a dip in the water too.”
Could she refuse? Did she even have a reason to? No. It was hot today, and she’d just spent the best part of the morning cleaning the hut. A swim would do her good.
“Of course. Just let me wash my hands first.”
A moment later the two of them were on the road to the lake.
The day was not only hot, but gorgeous as well.
The land around them was bursting with life.
Birds were chirping in the trees, and small white butterflies fluttered amongst the swaying wild carrots’ umbrellas.
As she inhaled their sharp smell, combined with that of the wild mint she was crushing underfoot, Cwenthryth understood that she wouldn’t be able to live in a town anymore.
This was just perfect. As a child, she and a group of girls from her street had spent as much time as they could running in the fields outside the town walls, chasing dragonflies, gathering sweet berries, rolling in the grass, bathing in rivers, and imagining a cleaner, simpler life.
As an adult, the responsibility of looking after an ailing father had prevented her from leaving the house much, and she had become increasingly cut away from nature. Up until now, she had not realized how much she had missed it. Being out in the forest and fields again was wonderful. Soothing.
As soon as she left the Norsemen village, she would find another such place to live. It seemed the only option to finally start to heal.
She and her companion kept a steady stream of conversation going as they walked, their pace slower than it would normally have been, in consideration for Eyja’s great belly.
With her ready wit and unusual boldness, the woman reminded Cwenthryth of her friend, Eahlswith, and as a result, she could easily fool herself that the two of them had known each other their whole lives.
When they eventually reached the lake, instead of heading to the shore, they sat down in the shade of a mighty oak.
“Forgive me, I think I need to rest for a while before I get into the water,” Eyja said, giving her a tight smile. “Perhaps the walk was a bit too much for me at this time.”
Yes. It was a wonder she had wanted to attempt it at all with her stomach. It was even bigger than Cwenthryth remembered from the other day. But then again, at that point, she had been too nervous to notice the size of the woman’s stomach. “When are you due?”
“Very soon, I should think. This is my second child.” Eyja stroked her stomach tenderly.
“I had a difficult birth with my daughter, Emma, who was breached. My husband was so scared it would happen again he made me take herbs to prevent conception for a whole year after I had weaned her. He can be rather over-protective, I’m afraid.
” The smile she gave indicated she didn’t resent it—on the contrary.
“In any case, I stopped taking the herbs eventually but it was more than two years before I fell with child again, despite…well, despite our very active love life. I was starting to wonder whether Emma’s difficult birth had made me barren.
You hear about these things happening, you know.
” A cloud went over the woman’s blue eyes as she remembered the dark times.
“Moon never said a word, but I know he was thinking the same.”
Yes, understandably they would have worried. Cwenthryth could only sympathize. She had wondered more than once if her own ordeal would affect her ability to carry children in the future.
“Your husband is called Moon?” she asked, careful to keep her tone light. This seemed a far safer conversation topic than the possibility of a woman having her body damaged for future children. “How unusual. Is that a typical Norse name?”
“Oh no!” Eyja giggled. “His name is really Halfdan, but everyone calls him Moon, on account of the birthmark he has on his wrist, shaped just like a moon crescent.”
“I see.”
“Our fathers being such close friends, we practically grew up together. He was like a fourth brother to me. And then one day I saw that he was in fact the most alluring man I’d ever seen.
To this day, I have no idea how I did not see it before.
Oh well, better late than never, I suppose.
But the change wasn’t easy to accept at first, even for us.
” She leaned in to whisper in her ear. “My father wanted to be sure he was serious in his intentions and my brothers tried to beat him to a pulp for touching me. Torsten, who’s always been his best friend, and Steinar, by virtue of being the eldest brother, in particular. Sven has always been more measured.”
Yes, Cwenthryth could well imagine there had been nothing measured in Steinar’s reaction. If he’d almost bitten her head off for doing nothing more than repeat wrong information, she preferred not to think what he had done to a man he thought was dallying with his only sister.
“How do you know my brother, then?” Eyja asked, leaning back against the tree once more.
“I don’t really. He didn’t lie when he told you as much the other day,” Cwenthryth said, remembering how Steinar had denied being friends with her. His vehemence had stung, but ultimately, he was right. They weren’t anything to each other. “I knew his wife a little, and the boys.”
There was a silence while Eyja seemed to wonder what to make of that.
“Well, don’t let him frighten you with his gruffness.
He’s not usually like this, but in the last few years…
He’s not been happy, and as a consequence, he’s started to live up to his name.
Steinar means ‘stone’ in our father’s language,” she specified, when Cwenthryth shook her head in incomprehension.
Stone.
She barely repressed a snort. How apt. She couldn’t have chosen a better name for him if she’d tried. Or perhaps “steel” would have done just as well. Or “ice.”
“I suppose it does fit. But I cannot blame him for not welcoming me in when he heard that Astrid had lied about his identity. It will have hurt.” It would have felt as if his wife were ashamed to admit she was married to him.
Eyja frowned. “What do you mean, she lied about his identity?”
Keeping to herself the fact that Steinar’s late wife had had a lover, Cwenthryth explained how she’d been told he was only the boys’ uncle.
“Oh, the wretched woman! Unfortunately, this sounds just like something she would do.” Eyja was incensed.
“I came to the village because Astrid told me the three of them might need my help. And I wanted to escape, so I thought…”
As soon as the word passed her lips, Cwenthryth regretted them. Why had she added that detail? Obviously, it was too much to hope that Eyja’s curiosity had not been pricked. She was looking at her with glimmering eyes.
“You needed to escape? From what?”
“I…” Damn, why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut? She resisted the urge to touch the side of her head. Was her bruise still showing? She hoped not. “A man.”
That would have to suffice. She didn’t need to say that the man in question was living in her house, or that she had just lost his baby, did she? Eahlswith was the only one who knew about her loss and she meant to keep it that way. No one else needed to know.
“A man who hurt you?” Eyja insisted nonetheless.
“Yes.”
No point in ignoring the question, Steinar’s sister would only ask it again. She really was as opinionated as Eahlswith. She proved it by asking. “Who would hurt you again if he saw you?”
“Yes.”
“Have you told Steinar about it?”
Here, Cwenthryth hesitated, because it was not that simple.
She had told him, but it had been obvious that he had not believed her.
She wasn’t even sure he believed the story about how she had met Astrid.
Of course it was hard to blame him for being suspicious.
She had given him two different versions of why she had come to the village and to him in particular, and at first, she had mistaken him for the boys’ uncle.
Even though it wasn’t her fault, it did look bad, as if she were making things up as she went along.
“I did tell him,” she said eventually.
The tension left Eyja’s shoulders. “Well then, you don’t have anything to worry about. My brother is a good man, for all his newfound gruffness. He’ll keep you safe until you find a solution.”
Dare she tell her he had already asked her to leave, and had only agreed to have her stay for a few days because he had gone away himself?
No, it would not be fair, because Steinar had indeed given her a respite, short as it was, and he had given her a shelter while she thought of some more permanent solution.
It was time she gave it some serious thought, because he had been gone three days already and she was no closer to knowing what to do.
So far, all she had established was that she needed to ensure she didn’t see Godfrid again, and that she wanted to live in nature rather than in town.
As plans went, it was rather a weak one, but that was something for her to worry about, no one else.
She forced a smile. “Godfrid won’t find me here. I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”