Chapter 10 #2
Eahlswith had often wondered what she would have done differently that morning if she had known he was riding to his death.
Would she have made their last kiss more passionate?
Would she have assured him that she would always love him?
Would she have draped herself over him in bed and begged him not to go?
She had done none of those things. Silly her, she had assumed that they had their whole lives ahead of them and that there would be time for passionate kisses, heartfelt declarations and loving embraces when he came back.
She had kissed him as she always did and watched him mount his gelding with her usual calm, never suspecting that this was the last glimpse she would ever get of him.
There had been no grim squeaking of a crow, no old soothsayer warning her of the terrible grief awaiting her, nothing.
“Osbert and I waited for days for his return. At first we didn’t get worried, knowing it would take him at least four days to get to the village and back.
But when four days turned into five, then six, I understood that something had gone wrong.
The wedding was planned for the following day, and his sisters and brothers had all arrived by then.
Considering the effort it had taken them to attend, I knew Edwin would have made sure he didn’t miss the ceremony. It was impossible that he—”
She stopped as her throat had gone too tight to allow her to carry on.
“He was attacked on the road?” Sven said after a while. She nodded. Unfortunately, the story was too common for him not to have guessed.
“The day we were supposed to get married, a man came to the door to tell us what had happened to him. Edwin had been found in a ditch just outside my village. He’d been stabbed trying to stop three men from stealing his horse and he was dying.
As he lay wounded, knowing he wouldn’t survive his injuries, he begged the man who’d found him to go tell his father what had happened to him.
And tell me, the wife he would never have…
that he would always love me. Though it was a considerable journey, the man agreed to grant him this last wish, as he’d recognized my name as one of the former inhabitants of the village. ”
Tears were now flowing freely down her cheeks.
The night that should have been her wedding night, she’d thought that she had shed all the tears that she was capable of shedding, alone in her pallet.
She’d soon discovered that despair was a bottomless pit and that she would never stop crying over the loss of the love of her life.
“It was all my fault, you see,” she said on a sob. “He’d gone to the village for me. If I hadn’t told him about the carving, he would never have gone—”
“It’s not your fault,” Sven cut in. “You did nothing wrong by confiding in him about something you loved, and that meant a lot to you. That’s what lovers do.
And people are allowed to come and go as they please.
That Edwin was traveling alone did not make it acceptable for anyone to attack him, steal his horse, stab him or anything else.
That he had chosen to go to your village did not mean he should have died for it. ”
“Maybe not. But he did die. Can you imagine how that makes me feel?”
“No,” he said with brutal sincerity. “I cannot begin to imagine the depth of your pain. No one can. Only you can know. But I can tell you, and repeat it as often as you need to hear it, that you did nothing wrong and that his death is not your fault.”
There was such earnestness in his voice that somehow, she found herself believing it. Eahlswith took a deep inhale. Maybe today would mark the first step toward acceptance.
“Thank you.”
Sven made a face she had difficulty interpreting. It was almost as if he would have preferred her not to thank him.
“Is that why you take such good care of Osbert?” he asked softly. “Because you feel guilty?”
Once again, he had read her mind. She did feel as if she had robbed him of his youngest son and wanted to compensate for that loss.
“I feel genuine affection for him. He helped me when I needed it, and I would have wanted to look after him no matter what.” Her voice wobbled.
“But yes, I feel that without me, he would still have his son and the least I can do is do what I can to make him comfortable.”
Sven’s heart almost broke when Eahlswith looked up to the skies and inhaled deeply, doing what she could to compose herself. Her courage was inspiring.
He waited, knowing she would eventually calm down. Once she had herself under control, she dabbed at her face self-consciously. “Forgive me. I must look hideous.”
Hideous? He barely repressed a scoff. Did she have no idea how dazzling she was? He wiped at her cheek slowly. “Believe me, you couldn’t be hideous if you tried. You’ve been crying, which is not the same thing at all.”
“Thank you, Sven.”
Here she was, thanking him again, for doing nothing more than what anyone of sense would have done. He gave her a tight smile. “What are you thanking me for now?”
“For listening to me. For being here. For being you.”
Oh. No one had thanked him for being him before. Perhaps he could make his peace with her endless gratitude if she were praising his character.
“It’s no problem. Shall we?”
Their talk had taken them further from the village than he’d thought and he wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t start snowing soon. They had better start going back.
They walked in silence for a while, then suddenly Eahlswith came to a stop.
“Look, someone’s carved a moon, a sun and two stars in the tree,” she told him, placing a hand on a mighty oak.
Upon closer inspection Sven saw that the moon appeared much older than the other three images, the layer revealed by the cut on the bark a different color.
“Ah, so this is it…” he said, delighted to have found it at last.
“What is what?”
“My sister Eyja told me a few years ago that she and her husband, Halfdan, whom everyone calls Moon, had carved a tree with such images but she refused to tell me where it was. Though I was curious to see it, as you can imagine, I didn’t even try to find it.”
In the middle of the forest, so far from the village, it would have taken him forever. He and Eahlswith had only seen it because their walk—and their talk—had taken them further than villagers went on a normal day. He was grateful to her for allowing him to see it.
“’Tis beautiful,” Eahlswith said, stroking the radiant sun with a light finger.
“Yes. Apparently, they add a star for each of their children,” he explained, showing the two stars flanking the moon.
One for Emma, one for Frida. Mayhap more would follow.
It wouldn’t surprise him. The two of them were deliriously happy together, like every couple in his family.
It struck him then that he was the only one without anyone special in his life.
Or at least, not someone he’d acknowledged publicly.
“What a wonderful idea,” Eahlswith murmured. “A testimony of their love that will stand the test of time.”
It was exactly that. Which gave him an idea. Reaching down to his boot, Sven extracted the dagger he always carried and held it out to Eahlswith.
“Do the same,” he instructed her when she looked at him with an arched brow. “Choose a tree, and carve something like your father once carved the door frame for you, something that will stand the test of time and serve as a reminder of your love for Edwin.”
For the longest moment she didn’t move, didn’t say anything. He thought that she might refuse, or even throw the knife in his face. Then slowly, she extended her hand and allowed him to place the dagger hilt in her palm.
He nodded and showed her a clump of bushes to his left.
“Take your time. I’ll wait for you behind there. I promise I won’t look. This is between you and Edwin only.”
While he waited, Sven reflected on what Eahlswith had told him that day.
Now he understood better where her reluctance to accept what was between them came from.
Deep down, she was still in love with Edwin, the man she had wanted to marry and she didn’t feel she had the right to betray his memory, didn’t feel she deserved happiness.
Something in his chest tightened. If that were the case, then wooing her would be even more difficult than he had feared.
It didn’t take her long to join him. It was obvious she had cried again, but she seemed at peace, as if it had helped her to leave a trace of what she and Edwin had once felt for one another.
Without a word, she handed him the dagger back. He replaced it in his boot and nodded toward the village. They didn’t exchange a single word while they walked, but when he left her in front of Steinar’s hut, he could have sworn something had changed within her.
Hope swelled within Sven.
Perhaps wooing her was not such an impossibility after all.