Chapter Five
Tormod was convinced there was something Aoife wasn’t telling him.
However, he was pleased with the arrangement in other ways.
She was pretty. Perhaps a little too delicate, and he suspected childbearing might be hard on her, however, given the imaginings he’d had the past two days, she was, indeed, a very pleasant alternative to those.
After his first marriage, however, he had to make sure that there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that any child she birthed was definitely his.
“So,” he said, pushing aside the lustful thoughts that crowded into his mind with her proximity. “You were to be a holy woman?”
“That was what my father had decided, yes.” She smoothed her hands down the fabric of her robes. Everything she wore was white, bar her cloak, and most of her hair was veiled. He smiled at the thought of running his hands through it later.
“Sometimes your people send girls to the Church when they have… been indiscreet.” She gasped and glared at him. His grin widened. “No indiscretions. Then why?”
She turned away from him again and reached for the small cross hanging around her neck, then let her hands fall into her lap. “Does it matter?”
He nearly didn’t hear her, the words were whispered so quietly.
However, he picked up the tremor in her voice and saw that her hands, now clasped in her lap, shook with more than just the motion of the cart.
He looked around at the men he had brought with him.
All armed with swords and axes, their shields carried beside them or hung from their saddles, helmets covering most of their faces, and leather armour making their already broad chests look even larger.
In contrast, she was only a girl, alone.
Her family had not even had the grace to send a maid with her, although Tormod had seen the simple lives the holy men and women led and realised she had probably been without that luxury for however long she’d been at the abbey.
“Bjorn!” he called and indicated he should give them more space. His cousin grinned at him, then shouted the order and all the men distanced themselves from the cart.
He placed his hand over her clasped ones. She tensed and started to pull away.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, closing his hand around both of hers.
They were still cold, almost icy, and so much smaller and softer than his own battle-hardened ones.
After a moment, she seemed to accept his touch and relaxed.
She turned her head slowly to look at him.
He took in the paleness of her skin, the smattering of freckles across her cheeks, the intense blue of her eyes, and then his gaze centred on her lips.
They were pale pink, thin like the rest of her, and when he jerked his hand, she gasped and her lips parted.
He meant only to comfort her, but instead, his lips touched hers gently before he lifted his head.
She said nothing; just watched him. She was his wife—he had all the time in the world to spend teaching her how to please him and accept the pleasure he could give her.
Tonight there would be no rushed coupling, but he would not be fool enough to lose his heart to this woman.
That would not stop them from enjoying meeting their physical needs together.
Her throat moved as she swallowed, and he admired the fact she didn’t pull away from him this time.
She was afraid, this daughter of a lord, but she knew her duty.
She would submit to him as the Christians taught their wives should.
However, that was not what he wanted. That was not enough.
Nor was this about love, not at all. It was simply the desire to have her submit to him through choice — how much of a victory would it be to have Cadell’s daughter willingly sharing his bed and not forced there by either her father or her husband? He smiled at the thought.
“May I kiss you again?” he asked, pleased when she nodded.
This time he lingered, running his tongue along the join of her lips.
When she opened her mouth, he touched his tongue to hers.
She made a tiny sound deep in her throat.
He ran a hand down the back of her head, pulled her in towards him, and kissed her deeply.
Then, deciding to retreat while he was ahead, he set her back from him and cupped her cheek.
She stared at him, a look of wonder on her face.
Then her eyes clouded, and she lowered her head.
He turned to see Bjorn watching them, a grin on his face. Tormod pulled Aoife close and frowned at Bjorn over her head. Let Bjorn grin. Tormod was not displeased with his new wife and was sure with some patience, she would become a willing bedmate. He was not without some skill in that area.
But then doubts came crowding back, and he wondered if her demureness was an act. She had responded eagerly for a few moments. Was it simply a case of her forgetting herself and enjoying his touch, or was it more sinister than that? Was she already planning how to betray him?
They reached the abandoned church at Nevyth where they would turn westwards away from the water’s edge and cross the peninsula through a pass that cut through the hills running down its length.
As they approached the settlement at Kirkjaster, they would be able to see down the firth of the great river Clut to the islands lying in its waters.
The waters stretching north from Kirkjaster were known as the Skipasfjorddr in his own tongue, or Loch Long here — both meant ship loch.
North of the shieling lands lay Tairmbert, a village sitting on an isthmus, where those ships could portage into the freshwater loch upon which Car Cadell stood.
With friends to the north and his new father-in-law owning all the land to the east, he felt confident he could keep his people safe here for now.
As they crossed the open fields by the shore, he noticed Aoife looking around. Was she expecting an attack? Had this whole thing been a ruse? Did her father plan to rescue her at the water’s edge? After all, his lands lay only a short distance across the sea-loch at this point.
“What is it you seek?”
She jumped when he spoke, a guilty expression on her face. “Nothing… my lord.” Her eyes moved rapidly. She was lying.
He gripped her wrist tightly and wouldn’t let her pull away from him. He scanned their surroundings and could see nothing out of place, nothing to draw his suspicions. Maybe she didn’t know when help would arrive. Maybe she was waiting for a sign. Maybe…
“Tormod,” he said, letting go. “My wife is allowed to call me by my given name.”
A small, dark shape flew overhead and landed on the back of the cart. Tormod turned to stare at it, then faced forward again. He sensed Aoife was stopping herself from looking. Was it just the bird she had been watching?
“It’s just a raven,” he said.
Her eyes met his and widened. “I know.” She twisted around, then watched as it flew away again before landing in a tree a distance in front of them.
“Is that what you were watching?”
Her eyes widened as she nodded. “Yes, the ravens. Both of them. I have seen them many times since…” She didn’t finish the sentence and he assumed she had perhaps seen many ravens on her journey from the abbey. Perhaps this was a good omen.
“When we are at sea, we use ravens to tell us if we are far from shore,” he said. A second raven flew overhead, then landed near the first. “And Lord Odin is said to travel with two ravens.”
“Odin is the leader of your gods?” she asked.
He wondered who had been teaching her about Norse beliefs. “The most important of our gods,” Tormod said after some thought. “He often travels the earth as an old man with only one eye, accompanied by his two ravens, Huginn and Muninn.”
“An old man with one eye?” She frowned in confusion when he agreed. There was a long pause before she continued, “With ravens?”
“The ravens fly all around the whole world, every day, then return and whisper in their master’s ear everything they have seen. Odin seeks knowledge, and knowledge is power. He sacrificed one of his human eyes for the gift of knowledge. Some even say he can change the path of destiny.”
“And can he?” She stared at him.
Tormod laughed. He had seen the priests of her religion praying to their god for things to change.
He’d never seen it work. The holy men and women seemed to believe they were invulnerable, that their god, rather than strong weapons, would save them, and so they knelt and prayed—and more often than not, they died.
His own gods took a more active role — as did his men.
“It is not enough to simply wish for things to change or even to pray for them. Our destinies are already carved in the Well of Urd. Odin learned to read runes,” he explained.
“And when he could read the runes, he could read from Yggdrasil, the tree of life, to find out what destiny awaited. Then he was able to change destiny, although…”
“What?”
“Seidr—using the runes to change destinies—is a pastime usually for women. It is an odd choice for a man, even a powerful god. Seeing the future is not always something to be wished for.”
Her curious expression turned to one of fear.