Chapter 13
“Good morning, Sven.”
Sven bit back a groan of relief when Eahlswith’s voice reached him from the corner of the smoke house.
Busy filleting fish, he hadn’t seen or heard her draw near.
But it seemed that she had finally decided to come to see him.
It had been two days since she had walked in on Freydis exiting his hut and they had not met once.
She’d been helping Cwenthryth with the children, of course, but he guessed that she wouldn’t have made any effort to see him.
Well, she was here now, and he wouldn’t let her go until they had spent at least a moment together.
He turned around and saw her standing by the door in her fur-trimmed cloak.
She wasn’t carrying any basket, wood, buckets or anything.
Why was she here? Had she come to get smoked meat for their meal and thought she might as well say hello when she’d seen she could not avoid him or had she come specifically to speak to him?
It mattered not. Now that she was here, he would make sure they did speak.
“Eahlswith, good morning. Do you have a moment?”
“I… Yes. I-I suppose I do.”
“Let me just put the fish into the smoke room and I’m all yours,” he said, already lifting the wooden sticks over which the fillets were draped.
His mind was no longer on the task at hand, however, and he placed the sticks rather more haphazardly than he usually liked to.
No problem. There would be other fish, but he didn’t want Eahlswith to disappear if he took too long, as she was wont to do.
To his relief, she was still here when he exited the door again.
“Come. I need to wash my hands.”
She followed as he led the way to the river.
It was one of those rare sunny winter days, crisp with cold and glittering with ice, beautiful and pure.
On such a day it was easy to believe that everything would be all right.
He dipped his hands into the water, relishing the bite of cold, and straightened back up.
When Eahlswith looked up at him expectantly, he realized that he didn’t know what to say to her.
He’d only wanted to secure a moment with her.
Then, as if to help smooth over the awkwardness, Torsten and his wife appeared on the other side of the bridge.
His brother was holding their newborn daughter in the crook of his left arm and his right was wrapped around Aife’s waist. Though the two of them had been married for over a year now, seeing his brother with their childhood friend and their baby was still something of a novelty for Sven, one he wasn’t sure how to handle.
Perhaps because it hammered the point home that he was now the only one of his siblings without a family.
“Good afternoon,” Aife said, looking at Eahlswith as if expecting an introduction. When none came she added, “forgive me, but you look familiar. Have we met?”
“I don’t think so,” Eahlswith replied, smiling at the baby, who was yawning in the most adorable manner. “But I have been in the village for a few days, helping my friend Cwenthryth, which might explain you having seen me?”
“Maybe.”
Because, unlike Eahlswith’s, his attention was not on little Thyra, Sven didn’t miss the look passing between Aife and Torsten.
They seemed to have remembered at the same time where they had seen the Saxon.
It was then that he guessed they had seen her slip out of his hut back in the summer.
His brother had told him that the two of them had spent many a night outside the hut, because Aife could not settle, too heavy with child, and they lived not far from him.
It was very possible they had seen her. And with her distinctive look, they wouldn’t have failed to remember her.
If only they had stopped her at the time!
He looked on at his Alva and his sister-in-law as they started talking together.
The contrast between the two women was stark.
One small and slender, the other tall and luscious, they had nothing in common.
Aife’s hair was as fair as flax fibres, while Eahlswith’s head was crowned with a riot of midnight curls.
People always compared Sven to his eldest brother, commenting on how similar they looked, adding that Torsten was nothing like them.
It seemed that he and Steinar had similar tastes in women as well, having both chosen outsiders, dark-haired Saxon women to share their lives.
He started. Was that what he wanted from Eahlswith? Share her life?
But of course it was. Why else would he persist in catching her attention otherwise? He wanted her in his life, permanently, not just for a night, or even a month. Perhaps that was what he had meant to tell her earlier.
“If you’ll excuse us,” Torsten said after a while, taking Aife’s hand in his. “We were actually on our way to the beach. My wife woke up in the mood for cockles.”
Sven blinked. Had he heard that right? The last syllable of the word “cockles” had been uttered so quietly that for a moment he’d thought his brother had said something else.
Something very naughty indeed. Aife’s cheeks went crimson red, proving she had heard the same thing as he had.
Perhaps the two of them were going to the beach for a purpose that had nothing to do with shellfish.
He smiled, pleased to see that their desire for one another was still vibrant even after the birth of their daughter.
“Don’t listen to your brother, he’s a fool,” she mumbled, before taking the baby from Torsten and heading straight to the field where the horses were doing their best to find patches of grass amidst the lingering snow.
A moment later Sven was alone with Eahlswith again. She had lowered her gaze to the ground as soon as Aife had nodded her goodbyes, as if unsure whether she should stay with him. To avoid an uncomfortable silence settling between them, Sven seized on the most obvious topic of conversation.
“Little Thyra is growing so fast,” he said, looking at the family in the distance. “Did you see her yawn and smile? Yet I can still remember the day she was born.”
“Thyra. That’s a beautiful name, not one I’ve heard before.
Mind you, most of the names I’ve heard here were new to me.
Does it have anything to do with your god, Thor?
” she asked, looking slightly ill at ease.
Was she worried he would think her ridiculous for asking?
He did not. Rather the opposite. He thought her endearing.
“Only… It would make sense, I suppose, since her father’s name is Torsten. ”
Sven couldn’t help a smile. She really seemed interested in furthering her knowledge of his people’s beliefs and language. He liked that, because it showed interest, if not exactly in him, at least in his community. It was a start.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “Thyra means ‘Thunder Fighter’.”
“With such a name, I guess she will have no choice but to become a fierce woman,” Eahlswith mused. “Otherwise she might feel inadequate.”
He smiled again, for he had thought exactly that when his brother had told him his new niece’s name. “Indeed, she will. But I’m not too worried. She has one of the strongest grips I can recall feeling on a newborn. I’m sure she will be just fine.”
There was a pause, during which Eahlswith seemed to absorb what he had told her. He waited with bated breath for her next comment.
“You seem at ease with children,” she observed eventually, looking at him from under her lashes, a lethal look.
“I hope I am. l love children. I can’t wait to have my own.”
The scoff escaping her lips made it clear she didn’t quite believe him.
No surprises there, why should she when the people who had known him all their lives would not?
Not only would she have heard about his reputation but the two of them had slept together mere moments after they’d locked gazes.
It would not appear as if he were looking for commitment.
Except that it was exactly what he was doing, even if not many people knew it.
He took in a sharp breath and decided to be honest. With her he couldn’t help but expose his most vulnerable side. “I know it does look like I don’t care about settling down but the opposite is actually true. It’s only that I go about it in a different way than others.”
“By sleeping with all the women you can find, you mean?” Though he could tell she had done her best not to sound accusatory, there was an unmistakable note of disbelief in her voice.
“Not all of them.” He gave a side grin, deciding that teasing her might be the best way forward. She always seemed to respond well to it. “I sleep only with the ones that interest me, the ones I think might be a suitable match for me. It’s not my fault there are so many of them.”
“I… That’s…” He could tell Eahlswith wanted to laugh at this provocation but dared not, in case he was actually serious.
But the truth was, he hadn’t slept with half as many women as people thought. Still, because he always acted on his desire with decision, taking his conquests to bed as soon as he wanted to, everyone assumed there were many others they didn’t know about.
“Freydis was one of them, I take it,” she said, clearing her throat.
“Yes. I really liked her. But then she left without warning, not telling me she’d planned to go to Denmark all along, proving she wasn’t ready to commit, like so many others.”
Women didn’t seem to think he had the makings of a good husband. An indefatigable lover, yes, but more? No. When it came to marriage and stability, they turned to other men.
Eahlswith reddened, but didn’t comment. “She came to speak to me the other day,” she said instead. “The afternoon after I’d seen her leaving your hut.”
He arched a brow. This was unexpected—and potentially problematic. Just what had the woman told her?
“Did she?” he started cautiously.
“Yes. It is clear she regrets leaving you.”