“I believe it,” Laren said to Mirana. “Except for the last part.”
“I knew all that, save the details of it, just as Alna said,” Chessa said impatiently. “But Sarla was just one woman. Surely he’s far too smart a man to think that all women are like her.”
“Aye,” Laren said. “That’s true. But understand, Chessa. She was the first woman Cleve knew as a free man. He trusted her. He gave himself to her. He loved her. Then she tried to kill him.”
“But Chessa is different,” Mirana said. “I can’t believe Cleve so blind as not to see it.”
“Men,” Amma said, drawing herself up even taller, “even my precious Sculla, sometimes becomes overwrought and ceases to reason. It is what has happened to Cleve. He does think that all women are like Sarla. What’s more, he believes himself hideous with that scar. He has made himself believe this and thus it is how he sees himself. Since he is a man, it will be difficult for him to see clearly. Also he believes he must deliver up Chessa to Duke Rollo else he will have broken his sacred word.”
“Men and their sacred word,” Mirana said. “More wars have been fought because of their wretched sacred word.”
Chessa said slowly, “Surely my father wishes for my happiness more than anything. He wants the alliance with Normandy, no doubt about that, but can’t he make a separate treaty with Duke Rollo, without sacrificing me in the bargain? How can I make Cleve understand that my father won’t curse him if he weds me himself? His father is, after all, the Lord of Kinloch.”
Laren turned then to look at the top of the path. Every child who lived on Hawkfell Island was up there, all of them huddled together, the older ones holding the younger ones, all of them staring down at their mothers.
Kerzog came bursting through the knot of children and tore down the path, barking and panting. He saw Mirana and Chessa standing close together, and skidded to a stop on the dock. He eyed one, then the other. In a burst of joy, he leapt on both of them. Chessa cried out as she felt herself flying backward off the dock to splash into the water, Mirana landing on top of her.
Old Alna cackled madly.
***
By the end of a week, the women began to fidget. The Hawkfell Island men spoke of the weather with galling confidence. Aye, a storm had slowed them, had even blown them off course. But why hadn’t the storm hit the island? One more day passed with no sign of the warship. Mirana said after a very fine dinner of boar steaks broiled with cloudberries, “Something is wrong. I feel it.”
Rorik said as he took his small daughter Aglida from her, “We will give them two more days. If they don’t return within two days, then we will go to York and find out what has happened.”
Everyone was profoundly thankful for his decision since Kiri had stopped eating that morning, had stopped playing and arguing with the other children. She looked like a pathetic little creature. It smote Chessa.
“It was always so when her father left Malverne,” Laren said. “Oh, he would be gone a week hunting or trading, but never longer. When he became Duke Rollo’s emissary, he would tell her nearly to the day when he would return. Several times he missed the day he’d promised her and when he got home to Malverne, she was a little skeleton, all pale and weak and listless. All of us were frantic. There was nothing any of us could do, and believe me, we tried everything.
“I remember once Cleve added extra days onto the time he planned to be away, but she somehow knew. He told her this time that he would be home by the eighth day. She has counted the days. If you look closely in the far corner of the longhouse, you will see a row of sticks. When she laid the eighth stick down and he didn’t come, she lost her faith. No matter what I tell her, she’s convinced he won’t come back. I stole one of her sticks, but she knew and put it back.
“Perhaps you have wondered why he brought a small child with him. Surely it will be dangerous, the journey to Scotland, his return to his home. The other children were left behind. None of us would allow our children in such danger. But this is different. She would have died if he’d left her. Just look at her. Kiri and her father are very close. None of us knows what to do.”
“What else did Sarla do, Laren, besides try to murder Cleve?”
“She was forced to remain at Malverne until she birthed Kiri. Then Merrik agreed to send her back to her family’s farm in the Bergen valley. Her father sent a dozen men to escort her home. She stole Kiri. When Cleve caught up to her, she screamed at the men that he was there to kill her, that he hated her and wanted both her and the babe dead, that they had to protect her. Whilst they argued, she ran away with the babe. Kiri nearly died. She would have if Cleve hadn’t managed to rip her from Sarla’s arms before she fell to her death. It was a horrible time for him. But Sarla was dead and we all hoped he would heal. He did, truly. He loves Kiri beyond reason. If something has gone wrong in York, then he must be frantic, knowing that she won’t continue for very long without him.”
Chessa looked over at the little girl, who was sitting with her thin back against the longhouse wall. At least she was sitting next to Erna, who worked the loom. Erna with her withered left arm, who spoke to the little girl, laughed and jested with her, pretending not to notice that Kiri said nothing back to her, that she didn’t react in any way. Gunleik, Erna’s husband, tried mightily to interest the child. He whittled a knife for her of the finest oak. She just looked at it and gave him a smileless look. The women cajoled and pleaded. The men held her on their knees and told her stories. Kerzog tugged on the hem of her gown, trying to pull her toward the fire pit and food. Nothing worked.
Another day passed with no sign of Merrik’s warship. All planned to leave the next day. Late that night, a storm hit. There was no question of leaving.
Kiri heard the storm and just stared down at the dirt floor. She picked up one of the sticks and began breaking it into small pieces.
The next night Chessa had had enough. She went into the children’s bedchamber where ten of them were all packed together like the women’s lines of dried fish. She plucked Kiri from among the sleeping children, watching with a grin as their small bodies quickly closed the gap. She carried the sleeping child to the outer longhouse and curled her against her, wrapping a blanket around the both of them.
Before morning, Chessa was aware of a very big, very warm body curved around her back. She froze, then felt a wet tongue swipe over her cheek. She sighed. It was Kerzog.
“Why are you here, Chessa?”
She opened her eyes. It was barely dawn, dim shadowy light breaking the night gloom in the longhouse. No one was yet stirring, but soon there would be enough activity so that no one would be able to continue asleep.
“I decided you’re skinny enough. You’ve driven everyone frantic with worry over you. I won’t allow it to continue anymore. I’ve decided you will now consider me your second father. Whenever your papa can’t be with you, then I will be. When Utta has made the porridge, you will eat. Then you and I will go exploring. We will play and run and laugh, and I will teach you a song that’s sung by all the farmers in Ireland. It’s about a pig who saved his master’s life and thus sleeps with the master and mistress of the farmstead. Then we will have lunch, a very big lunch, over on the eastern cliffs.”
“You’re not my papa. You’re a girl.”
“It doesn’t matter. You may call me Papa if you wish.”
The little girl tried to pull away from her, but Chessa held her firmly. She was so thin, even her beautiful golden hair was lank and dull. It scared Chessa to death. She couldn’t begin to imagine what Cleve was thinking. She prayed he was still alive so he could think about his child.
