Chapter 1
SEREH
Six weeks earlier
Sereh woke with a start, confused and disoriented. She was warm from head to toe. So wonderfully warm. She looked for the source of the glorious heat.
She was slumped next to the massive kitchen fire.
She leapt to her feet, remembering. She’d been sent to collect more boiled water.
The fire’s heat had been seductive. She’d crept closer, mindful no one was watching her for once, and slipped into a huge wooden chair that faced the hearth.
Bathed in such unusual warmth, she must have fallen asleep.
Sereh knew she was probably in for another tongue-lashing from Jarl Rankil or his mistress.
The renewed screams of the birthing woman pierced the air. Sereh hoped she’d not been gone too long. Or, if she had been, that her absence hadn’t been noticed.
She wasn’t scared of Jarl Rankil or his current bed-warmer’s anger, but they’d soon punish her for any dereliction of duty, stripping her of the little luxuries she’d become used to of late.
She currently had the use of her own little sleeping area instead of sleeping huddled on the cold kitchen floor among all the other servants.
She hated to feel so pathetically grateful for such a small boon, but Sereh enjoyed the peace and quiet as opposed to the endless snores and grunts she’d been forced to endure every night for the last eight rotations.
The screams and cries of the birthing woman were more frantic as Sereh returned to the woman’s private quarters. Not that it could be called a room. It was merely a curtained-off section in the main living area of the steading. Only heavy curtains attempted to create the idea of privacy.
The cramped steading consisted of few real rooms. The kitchen and lavatories were the only self-contained areas aside from the end of the steading where the animals were housed during the Long Night.
Similar heavy curtains differentiated the sleeping quarters and the jarl’s private study.
Rankil made no secret of his plans to extend his steading to suit his official place in society and create more private spaces.
Idly, Sereh wondered how he’d fund it and what bargains he’d made with his followers to allow such luxury.
Her lips turned down at the thought. Rankil was as corrupt as they came. All knew it.
Resolutely, she turned her mind back to the here and now.
Dalla, Rankil’s mistress, had happily kept to his bed throughout the last Long Day.
Now she was bloated with his child. She was extremely proud of herself because everyone knew Rankil had no children.
Dalla told anyone who listened that she’d be greatly rewarded for bearing him a son, even though he’d since taken a wife. Little did she guess the truth.
But Sereh knew Dalla would end up like all the others.
She wondered what would happen when Rankil’s young bride, Aras, was in the same predicament.
She assumed Rankil would feel more kindly to a legitimate heir, especially as the baby would incontrovertibly tie Rankil’s and the old Jarl’s bloodlines.
Maybe then Sereh wouldn’t have to carry out her unpleasant task ever again.
Sereh wondered what magic Rankil had brought to bear on his young wife for her to tolerate his soon-to-be-discarded mistress.
Or even to consent to being his wife in the first place.
Rankil was a tall, lean man with greying black hair and a short beard that was more silver than black.
He had piercing eyes to match his hair and holes where some of his teeth should have been.
He wasn’t an attractive man as he advanced into middle age, despite what the presence of his many mistresses might suggest.
It had been uncomfortable when Aras had first arrived before the start of the Long Night, and Dalla had made such a point of announcing her presence and condition.
The young bride had kept her wits about her.
She’d been pleasant to the mistress and hadn’t appeared to begrudge her new husband any time he wished to spend with Dalla.
Idly, Sereh wondered if Aras was as committed to being his wife as Rankil thought.
No one else commented on it, but Sereh was convinced Aras was secretly pleased her husband was so often distracted by Dalla’s charms.
Sereh pushed her way through the curtain into the space where Dalla laboured. A thin sweat broke out on her forehead. It was even warmer than the kitchen fire. Dalla didn’t like to be cold. She’d ordered a huge fire to be kept burning while she strained. Now the heat was almost stifling.
Dalla looked pained and extremely flushed on the birthing stool. With a shriek from Dalla and the herb woman, Sereh realised the baby’s head had finally appeared.
‘One more push,’ the herb woman, Anya, instructed.
‘The babe is nearly here. Come on, mistress,’ Anya urged.
Dalla wavered, her breathing too fast, her chest rising and falling as though a horse cantering.
Sereh shared a look with Anya. Should Dalla falter, it would make what needed to happen next much easier.
But, with one last exhausted scream, Dalla’s child slithered into the world, slippery and bloody.
Sereh held her breath, waiting for the all-important scream.
She spared Dalla no more than a cursory glance.
Dalla had slumped and looked as though she might fall to the ground from the birthing stool.
But she wasn’t exhausted enough to have missed Sereh’s absence.
‘Where do you think you’ve been? You better not have been slacking in your duties just because Rankil has been a little kind to you of late.
’ Dalla’s voice was breathless, but filled with triumph as she settled on the side of the bed, with the aid of two other servants.
Sereh didn’t miss that she didn’t ask whether the child was a boy; Dalla paid no attention to the screaming baby.
‘I can soon see to it that his favours stop. Now go and get him, I want him to see his firstborn son.’ Dalla fairly shimmered with triumph, even though she looked far from the alluring creature who’d enticed Rankil to share his bed with her, even when he was due to marry.
Sereh might have felt stung by Dalla’s tone and remarks.
But today, she dismissed it like water over rocks.
She was under no illusion that Rankil would be overjoyed to hear his ‘first’ son had been born.
Dalla didn’t realise how many ‘first’ sons and daughters he’d already fathered and removed from public sight.
Sereh knew only too well that Dalla had presented Rankil with a problem he’d have to deal with, and he’d not appreciate it. Not now when it was the Long Night.
Despite the obvious differences in their station, Sereh felt a little sorry for Dalla.
She’d only been in the steading for one rotation and didn’t understand Rankil anywhere near as well as she thought she did.
Dalla certainly had no idea he’d pack her off back to her family now the child had been born and could be dealt with in a way that pleased him.
Yes, Rankil would wash his hands of both of them.
Dalla would likely be sent home with some gifts for the family, a thank-you for letting Rankil ‘borrow’ their daughter, but there’d be little else to show for her efforts, not even the child.
Neither would Dalla be able to contest his wishes now he was officially married.
With a sigh, Sereh put down her cauldron of hot water and turned to retrace her steps.
Sereh was met with Rankil marching towards the curtained-off area. A small smirk on his odious face assured her that he’d been alerted to the birth of his child by the cessation of screams and grunts that had been ongoing throughout most of the night.
Rankil stopped when he drew level with her.
‘For the love of the Gods, this one could raise the roof. There isn’t a soul here who doesn’t know how much agony she’s in.
I imagine she has no care for just how much agony we’ve all been in listening to her screams. I just hope it was worth all the effort for her.
’ His tone dripped with disdain. He behaved as if life was just one long joke to him.
Sereh didn’t answer because she wasn’t expected to.
Rankil liked to have the last word on every issue.
Today would be no different. She pitied Dalla afresh.
Rankil would play all nice, and Dalla would be oblivious to what was happening until it was all too late.
Rankil was devious. After eight rotations, however, he was all too predictable to Sereh.
The entire steading would welcome the downfall of his mistress now she’d given birth.
Everyone who’d endured her snubs and rude remarks would be waiting to see what fate awaited her.
Not that anyone liked Rankil. No one in the steading had any reason to because he was a hard taskmaster, yet that didn’t mean they couldn’t appreciate his deceitfulness – as long as it wasn’t directed at them.
Rankil brushed the curtain aside and pushed into the room. Sereh followed. But the scene before her was not what she expected.
Dalla was no longer imperious. Instead, she lay on her bed, pale-faced and barely conscious as a crimson stream of blood surged from between her legs. Anya looked at Rankil and shook her head.
‘I’m afraid, my jarl, there’s nothing I can do. The baby was big and vigorous and has torn her as he was coming out.’
Her tenor was businesslike. Anya knew her jarl well enough to appreciate the news would be welcome.
Rankil took all this in his stride. He didn’t falter as he walked to Dalla’s side. A faint smile lit her face. She was proud of herself as she finally held her small bundle triumphantly.
‘There you go, my darling jarl,’ she managed to croak in a thin and reedy voice, ‘your first son.’
Rankil looked at her pityingly before placing his lips to her ear. Sereh was close enough to hear his whispered reply. ‘What a gift, my love. Don’t worry, you will be joined by him shortly.’
A look of horror pressed upon Dalla’s face, and again, Sereh felt the unfamiliar sensation of pity towards Dalla.
‘No, my darling jarl, you don’t understand. I may not have long for this world, but there is a woman in your steading who can feed him. He’ll be strong and handsome like you,’ she whispered desperately.
‘No need for that, my love. I don’t take on extra mouths to feed. Food and resources are too stretched as it is. I thought you knew that.’
Frantically, Dalla glanced past Rankil and caught sight of Sereh. She wasn’t sure what Dalla saw on her face, but whatever it was, Dalla’s face crumpled as she expelled her last breath.
Rankil waited for barely a heartbeat before turning to his servants.
‘Now isn’t that helpful of her. We won’t even have to lie about where the child has gone.
Put about that mother and child died in childbirth.
’ He clapped his hands together, and Sereh suspected this was the most pleasure Dalla had given Rankil since informing him of her expectant condition.
‘Now clear this mess up and get her out of here.’
With that, Rankil picked up the small bundle Dalla had been trying to protect in her dying moments. He roughly shoved the wrapped child in Sereh’s hands.
‘Get rid of this. I don’t care if you keep it until the sun rises or if you leave it with its mother, but I want no more noise today. I’ve got quite a headache.’
With that, he disappeared back through the curtains.
It took mere moments for the stunned servants to begin erasing Dalla’s existence.
The steward stuck his head through the curtain.
‘It’s bloody inconvenient to die at this time of the rotation.
There’s not enough peat left to cremate her, and it’ll be nigh on impossible to bury her with the depth of the snow and the frozen ground.
Put the body at the farthest reaches of the animal shed, and ensure none can eat her.
We can’t do anything with her for the time being.
And make sure you get the blood off everything. ’
Without hesitating, Anya pulled up the bloody sheets from around the bed.
She wrapped them expertly around Dalla so no one would have to look at her anguished face.
Another servant picked up the cauldron of warm water Sereh had brought into the room earlier.
With practised ease, she sloshed it all over the bloody mess on the floor before getting down on her hands and knees to scrub at the blood with a wire brush in the hope it wouldn’t stain the precious wooden floorboards.
Sereh watched on with disbelieving eyes, still clutching the now sleeping baby. The jarl’s previous children had never been born during the Long Night. Sereh didn’t know what to do.
She couldn’t go now, as she’d not be able to walk far from the steading without fear of getting lost in the permanent dark. What should she do?
Sereh hoped it wouldn’t be long until the Dawning.
Only then would the days and nights begin to differentiate themselves, in more than just candle lengths.
Sereh understood from her reading that the Long Night this rotation had been longer than normal.
She felt impatient to step outside again without risking her life. She wished the Long Night would end.
The steading stank of too many unwashed bodies and animal dung.
There was no way to get the smell out until the huge wooden doors could be thrown wide open.
Cleansing the steading after another Long Night would involve backbreaking hard work for her and the other servants, but anything had to be better than the current fusty smell permeating everything.
She longed to clean out the stinking latrines.
She put off going in there as often as she could.
And now she had a new problem to contend with which the continuing Long Night made even more difficult.
While Sereh weighed up her few options, Rankil stuck his head back through the curtains, grimacing at the mess and making her jump when he called her name. ‘Hurry up, Sereh. I want you to come and read for me.’
Noticing the baby still in her arms, he added, ‘Get rid of that thing and do it quickly.’
With no more time to think, Sereh made her decision.
Mult would feed the baby until the Long Day returned.
She’d not mind. Only with the arrival of the Long Day would Sereh be able to dispose of the baby in the usual place.
It surely couldn’t be much longer before the sun returned.
By her reckoning, the sun should rise within the next few days. She couldn’t wait.
Resolved, she slid back through the curtains, determined to find Mult before she was made to read to the jarl.