Chapter 10 #2
The fare of the goddess. Raye’s eyes snapped toward Gaelfr, narrowing on his face.
Had Kalfr… told him that? Or did they just have similar patterns of speech, after being bond-brothers for so long?
And also, far more importantly, why was Gaelfr complimenting her?
He had to have some nefarious motive, right?
But his eyes were mild, and he nudged Raye’s half-empty plate closer toward her. “No need to squint at me thus, woman,” he said, under his breath. “I only wish you to eat. You need this.”
But it was yet more rebellious rage in the mire, more miserable memories of the night before. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you,” Raye said, as she shoved her plate away. “And didn’t you say you needed to leave soon?”
Gaelfr didn’t argue again, and Raye thoroughly ignored him as she worked her way through her usual morning chores, and reluctantly sat down at the loom for the day’s weaving.
Because what else was she going to do? She couldn’t trust him, and he was leaving, and she still needed to work, to care for Svein, to do whatever it took…
But Gaelfr didn’t seem in a hurry to leave, either, and Raye could almost feel his every movement behind her as he cleared up the table, and washed the dishes in the basin.
And then, with Svein happily trailing along behind him, he went out and fetched more fresh water, and chopped an excessive amount of firewood, which he stacked up in several large piles beside the fireplace, though there was still plenty left from the day before.
And finally, he went and fetched Raye’s shovel and steel washtub, and carted them into Svein’s bedroom.
“What are you doing now?” Svein excitedly asked. “Wait, are you digging my tunnel?”
Despite herself, Raye glanced up in time to see Gaelfr nodding, and yanking the trapdoor open.
And after a few moments’ studying the hole, poking at it with the shovel, he began digging in earnest. Driving the shovel down with his full weight, and heaving the shovelfuls of dirt into the tub.
His big shoulders gracefully shifting as he moved, his gaze determined and intent on his work, until he’d entirely filled the tub, and then carried it out to dump in the garden.
It was yet more frustration, tinged with grudging relief, because Raye had tried again and again to dig that hole deeper, until her hands had been red and blistered. And she could only watch in bitter silence as Gaelfr strode back in, and proceeded to do it all over again.
“That ought to be a little better for you, son,” he told Svein, once he’d finished. “When your mother asks, you will hide there as long as she says, ach?”
Svein solemnly nodded, and Gaelfr patted his head before turning toward the door.
Fastening his huge axe high onto his back, and then strapping on his sword, too, and his cloak.
He was really leaving, and Raye swallowed down the tightness in her throat.
She didn’t care. She didn’t. And Gaelfr had said he was only staying until Kalfr returned anyway. Right?
“You’re sure you’ll come back?” Svein asked now, his voice small. “You promise, Papa?”
Papa. It was enough to make Raye flinch, and she frowned at where Gaelfr was gazing down at Svein, his hand settling against his shoulder. “Ach, my son,” he said roughly. “I will do all within my power to come back to you. I swear this.”
Svein’s shoulders sagged as he nodded, and scuffed at the floor with his foot.
And after a squeeze to Svein’s shoulder, Gaelfr glanced toward Raye at the loom, his mouth pressed thin.
“Keep the door barred, woman,” he said flatly.
“Go out only to use the latrine, and take your axe with you. And allow no one entry, until I return.”
Of course. Another series of ridiculous unnecessary commands. And if Raye had harboured any faint, foolish regrets about Gaelfr leaving, they were now thoroughly crushed, and she spun back to her loom without another look, or a word of farewell. She did not care. She didn’t.
But the sound of the door closing felt foreboding, thudding through Raye’s ribs, and even worse was the sound of Svein quietly sniffling behind her. And when she whipped around to look, he was gazing at the closed door with wide, sad eyes, the tears streaking down his cheeks.
“Papa Gaelfr left, Mama,” he said, hugging Mr. Snuggles tightly to his chest. “He left.”
The ache flared through Raye’s belly, and she lurched toward Svein, and drew his slim sobbing body into her arms. Squeezing him as tightly as she dared, stroking her hands at his hair. “It’s all right, love,” she said, though her voice hitched. “He’ll come back. He promised he would.”
But damn it, now she was here reinforcing Gaelfr’s promises for him, feeding their empty hope to her weeping son, when she had no idea whatsoever whether Gaelfr would keep his word.
He could disappear forever, they might never see him again, and this was another reason Raye had barred orcs from her life. She couldn’t trust them, she couldn’t…
It took far too long to settle Svein down again, a process that ended up requiring not only a snack, but several songs and stories, and also a lengthy playtime session with Mr. Snuggles — who now spoke proudly of his own “Papa Gaelfr”.
And by the end of it, it was well past noon, and Raye’s head ached, and she was thoroughly regretting ever letting Gaelfr through her door, let alone into her precious son’s life.
But then — a bang at the door. Sharp, sudden, demanding. And Raye’s head snapped up, while a traitorous hopefulness sparked through her chest. Had Gaelfr returned already? Had he changed his mind? Come back for Svein? For… her?
But — no. Because that wasn’t hope, or relief, in Svein’s still-damp eyes. No, it was fear, and his nostrils sniffled again as they flared, as he angrily wiped at his nose.
No. It was the men. The men.
“Open up, weaver,” came a hard, demanding voice. “Or else!”