Chapter Nineteen
As Gemma strode along the passageway towards her room, she heard the familiar noise of a baby’s cry.
She broke into a smile as she hurried towards Aoife’s room instead, although she slowed as she approached the door.
After she had left when she did, would Aoife even want to see her?
She knocked gently and pushed open the door at the soft, “Come in.”
“Gemma! I am so glad to see you back. Why did you leave us?” Aoife asked. “You could have died in the storm!”
“I thought it was for the best at the time. When the fishermen arrived, both Rhiannon and Arne feared others would come looking for me. Soldiers in Ir Ysgyn had been offering a reward and I was worried...” She didn’t want to point out that someone in Kirkjaster might have betrayed them for gold.
“But you are under Tormod’s protection.”
“I don’t want to be the reason Rhun gives to break the alliance or attack the settlement. I thought we could go north, start over, but I now know that’s not possible, and Caelin deserves to inherit his lands.”
Aoife opened her mouth to speak but closed it again before nodding. “It may not be so simple.”
“I know, but I need to try. And I have no other options left, Aoife.”
Aoife sighed and looked down at the baby in her arms. A child of mixed heritage, but one whom Gemma knew would be loved and protected. “And Tormod has agreed to this?”
“Yes. I am to return to Perthawc with two of Rhun’s soldiers. Ulf, Arne and some of the other warriors will ensure I am safe and… and collect the reward Rhun has offered before they come back.”
A small sound came from the bundle in Aoife’s arms. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
“She is. Does she have a name yet?”
Aoife made a face. “They both have names. My husband is being difficult, however, and will not agree with them.”
Gemma smiled, remembering the first time she had seen Caelin’s sweet face. “I knew I would call my son Caelin as soon as I saw him. It took me longer to persuade my husband. How are you? Was it a difficult birth?”
“I do not think I ever want to go through that again,” said Aoife, shuddering. “The worst bit was that as soon as my son was born I had to go through it all again.”
“But it was worth it?”
“Yes,” she said, a soft smile brightening her features. “I am thinking up ways to make Tormod suffer, so we are even.”
The two women laughed and Gemma moved to sit beside her, and looked at the other baby who was sleeping beside his mother: Tormod’s son, the future jarl of Kirkjaster.
“Ulf and Arne seemed upset when I told them Ylva planned to call her son Hrafn. But I don’t understand why.”
“Arne should be the one to announce the name, after the child is born. It may be that – or because Arne was named after a bird and has been the unluckiest of all of them. No wife and little hope of one. Although he is wealthy,” Aoife said.
“They all are, but there is little use for it here. It is not the scars which keep him away from women. It is the bitterness of the betrayal.”
“Ingrid allowing him to be tortured.”
“Even though she knew he wasn’t Tormod. I do not think he will ever get over that, the way I will never forgive Marcant and Ula for the way they betrayed my father. The way you probably will never forgive those responsible for your husband’s death.”
Gemma was quiet for a moment, then reached out and brushed her fingers gently down the side of the little girl’s face. “I lost a daughter, too.”
Aoife looked up sharply. “I am sorry, I didn’t know.”
“The people were starving during the siege. And thirsty. If my father had surrendered earlier…”
“The Norsemen might have slaughtered everyone on the rock.”
“They might have, but dying of disease and taking others with you, is that a better way to die?”
She caught herself. Even when she had told Arne the story, she hadn’t realised how bitter she was about her father’s choices. “If Artgal had made a different choice, my husband would not have returned sick with fever and my daughter might have lived.”
“Perhaps,” Aoife said. “But…”
“What?”
“My visions are rarely wrong. They rarely show choices for the future. As if… as if there is a way things are meant to be.”
“But things change all the time, Aoife. Growing up at Alt Clut, my father was constantly making alliances. Then something would happen with that nobleman and the terms would change. Enemies became allies, allies enemies. People died at each turn. It is almost like people’s lives are a game, playing pieces on a board for them to dispose of for their own gain even if it ultimately leads to their own losses.
” She paused. “You said you were not seeing visions anymore.”
“They’ve returned.”
Aoife’s expression was troubled and Gemma hesitated before asking her, “What have you seen?”
Aoife looked away and swallowed before slowly turning back to face her.
She smiled, but it seemed forced. “Kirkjaster, bigger than it is now. And full of both Britons and Norse. Gemma, think carefully about staying here. My life here is no worse than my life before. And I know my father was not a king but… But look what happened to him. And the man responsible for his death still walks free. Even if he has been outlawed.”
Gemma swallowed the lump in her throat. “It is not because things will be better for me I’m going back, but for Caelin.
Goodbye, Aoife.” The words came out as little more than a whisper.
She stood and made her way to the door. Aoife simply nodded at her when she turned to look back, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Gemma, I saw something else,” Aoife said. Gemma waited for her to go on, unsure whether she wanted to hear this or not. “King Rhun was dead.”
Gemma took in a sharp breath, swallowing down her fears of how Aoife might answer her. “And who was the new king?”
“Eochaid.”
She let out the breath. That, at least, was a relief. Perhaps Caelin would be safe from anyone who sought to make him king after all. If only she could convince Rhun of this. “Do you think this will happen soon?”
“No. Eochaid was older, older than he is now anyway.”
Gemma smiled brightly. “This is good news, then. This is the way things should be. Eochaid will inherit once my brother grows old and—"
“He wasn’t ruling alone. There is a second king.”
“What?” Gemma pressed her fingers over her mouth. She wanted to scream at Aoife to stop speaking, but what good would that do? Then she let her hands fall as she clenched her fists and swallowed. “Wh… Who?”
“I… I don’t know who it was. If it was Caelin or…”
“There cannot be two kings, Aoife. Please tell no one else about this. Caelin is no danger to my brother’s line.” And with that, she swept out of the room and into her own to pack the rest of hers and Caelin’s belongings.
It was all too much. She had to get away.
From Arne. From Aoife and her prophecies.
She needed to try to take control of her life and sort things out for herself as best she could.
It was that or spend her life running. If she got it wrong, she would end up dead, but the thought that terrified her most was Caelin dying because of her mistake.