Strian looked at his wife as though she spoke a foreign tongue. She patted his head as though he were a loyal hound before she stepped back.
“I’m starving. Where is the pickled herring stored?”
“To break your fast? You hate it.”
“I know,” she shrugged once again. “But it’s the only thing that sounds good right now.”
The rest of their voyage was a mixture of Gressa trying to reassure and calm Strian, who worried over everything, along with Gressa needing naps and discovering what food she had an aversion to and what she could not have enough of. The fortnight of sailing felt as though it rushed by for the couple, but Strian’s crew would have described it as interminable. There was an audible sigh as they sailed into their harbor.
Gressa and Strian hung back, allowing Strian’s crew and their families to reunite. They waved to their friends and nodded as the others looked to see if they would follow. Strian picked up the bundle that remained enshrouded in his cloak. He passed it to Gressa before lifting her into his arms to protect all three of his precious cargo as he waded to shore. When he was on solid ground, he lowered Gressa to her feet. They stood looking at the homestead, and at last it felt like home to them both. Strian had dreaded it each time he sailed into the harbor without Gressa. Gressa had feared for her life when she returned weeks earlier. Now they felt as though they were where they belonged.
Strian had spoken to Freya and Erik during the voyage when their ships floated close enough for the three of them to stand at the rails of their boats and not have their words shared with everyone. Strian shared what he and Gressa wanted once they arrived home, and Erik and Freya promised to see to the arrangements.
Standing together as the sun sank below the horizon, Strian and Gressa looked at the remains of their son nestled in Gressa’s arms. Strian wrapped his arms around her and rested his hands over the new life that grew within her belly. They stood together in silence, both lost in thought but savoring the time together as a family. It was not long before Leif and Sigrid, Freya and Erik, Tyra and Bjorn, Lena and Ivar, and Rangvald and Lorna joined them. The men carried a small hollowed log that had a fur pelt resting within. Gressa recognized it was a log that would have been part of the fencing, but the men were preparing it as a funeral pyre. Lena came to stand at Gressa’s side with a blanket Gressa recognized as one she had made many years ago for a baby that Lena never bore. Gressa swallowed back tears as she nodded to Lena. The two women walked to where the men had lowered the log. Gressa unwrapped Strian’s cloak until the shroud appeared. Then she placed the infant’s body upon the pelt and Lena covered it with the blanket. There was not much to send with a babe to the afterlife, but each of their friends found something to include. Tyra and Freya each included an arrow with their unique fletching. Bjorn added a small knife. Ivar and Lena had offered the pelt and the blanket while Rangvald and Lorna placed a torque and a Thor’s hammer medallion beside the remains. Leif and Sigrid were the last to come forward. Sigrid closed her eyes and passed her hand over the crib dug into the log. Her lips moved but no one could hear what she said or make out the sounds her lips formed. They knew she was ensuring baby Strian would find safe passage to the afterlife. Leif placed a fealty ring as the last gift. One day, Gressa’s and Strian’s children would grow old enough to pledge their fealty to their jarl, and by then, Leif would likely be the jarl. Leif’s gift symbolized that the babe was a member of the tribe and ensured his manhood.
The men carried the log to the water’s edge, and Strian and Gressa each grasped a side, the rings neither had ever taken off since the day they wed flashed in the moonlight as they pushed their son towards the waves and his afterlife. As the miniature funeral barge caught the tide, Sigrid’s haunting voice floated with the melody of a mourning song. Tyra and Freya dipped their arrows into a small fire Bjorn has built then launched them onto the log as it drifted further out to sea. It was only a moment after they landed that the fire sparked in the twigs and branches that filled the opening.
Strian held Gressa as they said their final goodbye to the babe they had lost, the time stolen from them, and the life they nearly missed. Strian did not hide the tears that fell from his eyes, remembering that Ivar had never hid his when he and Lena lost a babe. Gressa gripped his arm as she leaned against her husband, counting on him to hold her up as much as she supported him. As the pyre floated out through the fjord, the others slipped away, leaving Gressa and Strian alone.
“For so long, I refused to let myself dream that one day we would be together again.” Strian whispered. “But the dreams came, anyway. Over and over. I thought it was the gods punishing me, torturing me. I understand now that they were trying to tell me to be patient.”
“We’ll never be able to recapture those years, but we have so very many more ahead of us. They will far outnumber the ones we missed.”
The couple looked out at the water as they watched their past disappear. It was gone from the earth but not from their memories or their hearts. Strian once more covered Gressa’s belly with his hands, and she covered his with her own. Their present and their future were bound in the life that grew within Gressa.
As the aurora borealis began its dazzling nightly show, they cuddled together in their bed and watched through their window as the lights dazzled between the stars, falling asleep as they had always dreamed they would.
Epilogue
“Gressa! Gressa! What do you think you are doing?” Gressa turned to see her husband storming through Bjorn and Tyra’s front door. “You’re not supposed to be on your feet right now. You promised.”
“I said it so you would leave me alone. How am I supposed to stay off my feet with two children under two and another on the way with a friend just as ready to give birth as I am? Stop bellowing before you wake Tyra.” Gressa snapped at her husband.
Everyone was tired, their nerves frazzled after a tense fortnight of long labors and births. Sigrid and Leif’s daughter had joined their son two weeks ago, and Freya delivered her first babe the same night even though she was early. Erik came close to killing the midwife for suggesting that he leave the room. He was beside himself that they were far from their home with Rangvald and Lorna, but Freya reminded him they were home with her family. Tyra and Gressa were both past due and miserable in the summer heat. One of the village women who had been helping Tyra since she passed her due date had to visit her elderly mother. Gressa’s two young children were asleep with Leif and Sigrid’s son, so she slipped out to check on Tyra.
Apparently, she had not been stealthy enough because her overprotective ogre of a husband had chased her down.
“You needn’t worry. I can’t get comfortable, anyway. I’ll just finish here, and Bjorn should be back from the fields soon.” Tyra put away the clothes Gressa had helped fold.
“Gressa, you’re supposed to be resting when the children are.”
Gressa refused to budge, knowing her husband was too terrified to manhandle her.
“And when am I supposed to get anything done if I don’t do it while they sleep?”
Strian opened his mouth, but the color leached from it as he watched her belly twist and shift as the babe turned over. Gressa rubbed one hand over her belly as the other tried to support some of its weight.
“That’s it. You’re going to bed. Now.” Strian lifted Gressa as though she weighed as little as a feather. He turned to Tyra and nodded. “I’m sorry. I know Bjorn will be livid, but I’m taking my wife home.”
Tyra waved them away as she closed the door behind the still bickering couple. Gressa waited until they were within their home before she began blistering Strian’s ears. He ignored her and moved towards the chamber they had claimed after their first son was born. With a growing family, Gressa and Strian braved the raw emotions that came with opening Strian’s parents’ chamber and moved in. They had since made it their own, but a few of Strian’s parents’ belongings lingered as fond reminders of happier times when the four of them had lived there.
Gressa gave up when Strian just started talking over her. She allowed him to pull her boots from her feet and peel down her wool stockings. He helped her settle on the bed with the pillows arranged as he knew she preferred. She stopped her own thoughts to watch her husband move about their chamber ensuring she had everything she could need within reach. It reminded her of the many ways Strian cared for her. The next time he walked past, she snagged his hand.
“Thank you for always taking care of me.”
Strian sat on the side of the bed as he leaned in for a kiss. As it always did, the most innocent kiss roared their passion to life. Gressa’s desire did not diminish with the advancements in her pregnancies, and Strian marveled at every change in Gressa’s body whether before, during, or after having a child. Neither could keep their hands off one another. This time a sharp kick that they both felt made Strian pull back.
“That’s why you need to rest. You are growing our child within you.”
