Chapter Twenty-nine
Tormod drove the cart back to the village in silence. It didn’t matter that they didn’t speak as Tormod knew they had reached a new understanding of one another. The way Aoife held firmly to his hand proved it.
Tormod hadn’t replied to her request not to visit her father’s fort.
Saying he would not go was a promise he could not keep.
Sooner or later, he must, and he knew it would be sooner.
He wanted to ask her more about her visions, but decided she had had enough for the day.
Once they were well rested and well fed, he would ask her.
A seer? It explained so much. He was relieved that was all she had been hiding from him.
He could almost understand why, especially having seen the bruises on her body when she first arrived.
One fist clenched around the reins at the memory.
Perhaps he should ridden to the abbey and confronted whoever had done that to Aoife.
One day he would, but the time had not yet been right.
Tormod squeezed Aoife’s hand as they crested the hill and the village came into sight.
She smiled at him. He smiled back, noting the colour had returned to her cheeks and there was no sign of her earlier weakness.
In fact, she appeared healthier than she had in the time she’d been there.
It was strange. The weeks seemed to have both passed quickly and to have lasted a lifetime, as if he had known her for far longer than the time spent with her.
His heart clenched as he looked at her. No matter what, he felt the gods had had a hand in leading him here, bringing Aoife to him.
She was a passionate and vibrant woman and he was glad he had saved her from her fate of being left in the abbey, forgotten and uncared for.
He wondered if she felt the same, or if she would rather have stayed there—with her own people.
“Are you sorry you are here?” he asked suddenly.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you are away from your family, your home, your people.”
“I have not been a part of those things since my mother died,” she said. “And since my curse was discovered, I have been treated with suspicion.”
“It must still be strange and unsettling to be amongst people so different from your own.”
She shrugged. “It is certainly comforting to know that Elisedd is nearby. I remember when he was born. It was a stormy night. Rhiannon had helped me to bed and was brushing my hair when she bent double, screaming. I was scared. I was too young to be there when my sisters were born, but Ula said I could be at Rhiannon’s birthing.
I called for help and took her to her room.
She could hardly walk there and we had to stop.
Her labour went on all night. I held her hand.
I will never forget the pain and fear in her eyes when she looked at me and then…
” She stopped. “It was a relief when he was finally born.”
Tormod brushed a tear from her cheek and pulled her against him. A knot of tension within him began to build. “It is not always easy to bear a child,” he said as he stroked her hair.
She pulled away a little. “But I remember her face after he was born, the joy on it. It seemed to make it all worthwhile, and then…”
“Then?” he prompted, dreading what came next even though he knew Rhiannon had survived.
Memories of Ingrid, how pale she had been, how pale and cold their child.
She had lived only long enough to know their son had been stillborn, that her efforts and pain were for nothing.
A wave of sorrow swept over him, strange given that at the time it had been the one emotion he’d been unable to feel.
“She kept bleeding. The midwife tried everything she knew, and finally it stopped. But it took a long time for her to recover. I would have helped with Elisedd, but of course, Ula would not allow it. Rhiannon was, after all, my maid. She has never had any more children.” Aoife sighed. “She must be so worried about Elisedd.”
“I’m sorry,” Tormod said. And he realised he really was.
Emotions whirled within him. Aoife had seen a terrible side of childbirth.
He had seen it, too, had already lost one wife that way.
A sense of guilt tormented him when he remembered at the time thinking it was justice for what had happened to Arne.
It was not unreasonable to think he might lose another wife and child.
The thought made him realise how much he didn’t want that and hoped Ragna was wrong about Aoife already being with child.
“I’m sorry, you lost Ingrid when Einar was born. I shouldn’t have…”
Tormod pulled away from her. “Einar?”
“He is a fine boy. It is sad that he never knew his mother. That she never got to know her son.”
Tormod’s heart began to pound. He let go of Aoife’s hand. Did she not realise? He swallowed.
“Was this another reason why you were so reluctant for me to conceive? In case I die in childbirth?”
He wondered what to say. Perhaps he should just be honest with her now. After all, H?kon’s comments earlier must have been confusing for her. There was no point in trying to pretend any longer. And yet, it made him feel weak, and weakness was something a jarl could not afford.
“It is part of it,” he said finally, then sighed. “It is complicated…” Just then, they rounded the final turn before the village. Tormod drove down to near the stables and a couple of boys ran out to deal with the horse and cart. Aoife smiled at them and Tormod thanked them.
As they headed for the main hall, he noticed Aoife watching Einar sitting next to the fire with Elisedd.
Arne must have thought it better for Elisedd to remain in the village rather than return to the farm amidst the sickness.
The two boys had a game board out in front of them.
Aoife clapped her hands in delight. “Listen.”
Tormod listened to the two boys playing the game. They stopped often for Einar to explain rules and tactics when Elisedd made a mistake, giving him a chance to correct it.
“Einar is a kind boy. He is helping Elisedd to win,” Aoife said to him.
Just then Einar caught sight of Tormod and after only a handful of moves had beaten Elisedd.
Elisedd sighed and stared sadly at the board. “Again?”
“This time I am not going to help you,” Einar said. There was a nasty tone in his voice that had not been there before. The Norse boy straightened and cleared the board, preparing to play again.
Elisedd frowned at him.
Tormod walked forward and clasped Einar’s shoulder. “It is good you are showing Elisedd how to play.”
“I can beat him easily,” Einar boasted, puffing his chest out. “He does not know the rules. I have had to teach him and—”
“Einar!” Tormod snapped. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“I am glad you were showing Elisedd how to play. It does not matter whether you are the victor or not when you are training someone. There is little glory in defeating an enemy who does not know how to fight. Do you think our warriors in Valhalla boast of easy victories or of the ones that were a challenge?”
Einar frowned. “I thought you would want me to win! After all, one day I will follow in your footsteps and be jarl here.”
Around them there was a sudden moment of silence, as if collectively everyone held their breath.
Villagers working nearby and the women at the fire all turned to watch.
Most knew the truth of Einar’s birth, although none would dare say it out loud.
Accepting him as their future jarl was, however, a different matter entirely and one, Tormod realised, must be addressed.
Elisedd remained focussed on the game board and seemed oblivious, but Einar and Aoife had both picked up on the fact that something was amiss.
“Father?” Einar said.
Tormod kept his gaze on Einar, ignoring the others round him.
Now that Einar was here, he needed to know the truth.
The villagers would never accept him as jarl as things stood, and Einar had to be told.
But this moment was too public to tell the boy something so personal, something that would change his life forever. He cleared his throat.
“Sometimes situations are more complicated than we realise,” he said.
“We do not always have to be the one on top. Teaching others is an important skill as well. And encouraging others to improve their skills is nothing to be ashamed of. It is what makes a warrior a good leader as well. Not everyone is destined to be a leader, though, and we do not all become jarls.”
Einar looked from his father to Elisedd and back again, confused.
“I thought you were my friend,” said Elisedd.
Before Einar could answer, Tormod said, “He is. You are one of us now, Elisedd. Einar will continue to teach you to play and train to fight with you.” He turned to Einar. “I hope you have continued your training in the time since I left.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Then you and Elisedd will make good sparring partners and you will make sure he learns as much as you do. I am entrusting this task to you.” Tormod squeezed his shoulder.
Einar glanced over at Elisedd and a slow smile spread across his face. “Yes, Father. But am I allowed to win?”
“You are allowed to try,” Tormod replied. “Never underestimate your enemy.” Tormod caught sight of Elisedd’s face falling. “Or your friends.”
Einar got to his feet. Both boys were smiling now. “Come. I will teach you what I know and we can be the best pair of fighters ever!”
Einar ran off towards the barn where the wooden swords were kept, but Elisedd didn’t move, just stared at Tormod. “Is H?kon still angry?”
“No, not with you,” Tormod said. “Or Lady Aoife,” he added when the boy’s eyes darted to his wife.
Elisedd nodded and followed Einar into the barn. A few minutes later the two ran back over with helmets on and wooden swords in their hands. Any villagers who had been watching them had thought that the scene was now over and all had returned to their work.
“Perhaps I should stay… advise them,” said Tormod.
“I will do it,” said Arne, coming up behind them.
“Did you find any problems on the other farms?”
“No,” said Arne. “I heard what Einar said. You must deal with the situation somehow. The sooner he understands, the better.”
“Understands what?” Aoife asked.
Arne put a hand on Tormod’s shoulder. When their gazes met, they held. Thoughts whirled in Tormod’s head. It was a challenge, Tormod knew, but he also knew that perhaps it was time to let this particular challenge stand.
“I will teach the boys,” Arne said. “Both of them. I would like to foster Einar. It will go some way to you repaying the debt you seem to believe you owe me.”
“Father?” asked Einar uncertainly. “I thought…”
“I will tell him why,” Arne said. “Later.”
For a moment Tormod did nothing, said nothing. Then he turned to Einar. “Arne will teach you. You are privileged to learn from a warrior as brave as Arne. To be taken in, fostered and trained by a warrior such as him is a great honour.”
Einar nodded, despite looking confused.
“You will always have a place here. But it might not be the place you thought,” Tormod said. Einar frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but Arne picked up a wooden sword himself and started to go through various moves, and both boys were distracted.
Tormod’s shoulders slumped as he and Aoife walked towards the hall. She glanced back a few times at the boys before stopping next to the fire. “Why did that seem… as if you were giving Einar away?”
“I’m not. He is not mine to give,” he said, then he pulled himself to his full height. “And it is all in the past.”
“Please, I need to understand.” She put a hand on his arm, but he shook it off.
He didn’t want to have this conversation just now.
He glanced back at Einar, taking in the shape of his face, the uplift of his mouth, the line of his nose.
The boy had the pale blond hair of his mother.
The rest of his features he must have inherited from his natural father.
Whoever he was. Ingrid had taken that secret to her grave.
A grave into which Arne had also nearly fallen.
He strode away from her, towards the shore.