“Who could have done such a monstrous thing?” Brenna realized the answer from the other things they had told her.
“Latham’s sons: Gervais, Edgar and Cedric—all three of them.”
“How was this learned?”
“They gave themselves away that morn when they found out who Thyra was. All three panicked and fled. ’Twas a terrible time for all—the grief, and then the blood-lust for revenge. Master Garrick cherished his little sister, but so did Hugh. The two brothers fought over who would have the honor of avenging her death. Hugh won. It did not matter that the Borgsen brothers thought they had tumbled an unimportant wench, no doubt assuming she was merely a slave. A crime had been committed against the Haardrad clan, and the offenders would pay.
“Anselm, Garrick and many others crossed the fjord with Hugh. Anselm was heartsick over what happened, and so was his friend Latham. Hugh first challenged Edgar and killed him fairly. When he would have challenged the other two in turn, Anselm put a stop to it, against both Hugh’s and Garrick’s protests. The Haardrads all returned home and waited for the Borgsens to retaliate. But they never did, except for the minor slaughtering of stray animals. Both families had suffered a loss and both chieftains were loath to add to that count.”
“Such a tragic story. Did no one ever wonder why Thyra did not cry out when she was attacked? None of it need have happened.”
“She was such a timid girl, frightened of everything,” Janie answered. “She was no doubt too frightened to scream, or mayhaps they prevented her from doing so.”
“They say she was always a weak child, even from birth,” Maudya added. “’Tis a wonder she was allowed to live when she was born.”
“Allowed? What play on words is this?”
“’Tis the right word, Brenna,” Janie said with disgust. “Had I known of the Viking custom when I carried my son in me, I would have been terrified. But my baby was healthy, thank the dear Lord.”
Brenna had turned a sickly white, “What are you saying? What Viking custom?”
“The ritual of birth,” Maudya said with equal distaste. “A newborn baby must be accepted by his father, whether that father be wed to the mother or not. As you know, these people prize strength and deplore weakness. ’Tis assumed that a man or woman who is not strong cannot survive in this hard land. So a baby born deformed or weak is rejected by the father and exposed to the elements. It dies, of course, but the father absolves himself by reasoning that the child would not have survived anyway, and ’twould be wasteful to give it food and attention, when others are more in need.”
“That is barbaric!” Brenna gasped and fought to control the nausea rising in her throat.
“What is barbaric?” Erin asked, coming in with a stack of wood in his arms.
“The custom of rejecting a weak baby and putting it out to die of cold or starvation before a mother can even hold it in her arms,” Janie answered.
“How is that barbaric?” he asked testily, dropping the wood by the fire.
“You think it is not?” Brenna snapped. “You are as heathen as these Vikings, Erin, if you can condone such a hideous custom!”
“Nay, ’tis not so. I only think it is the kinder of two evils. Ask Janie, she is a mother. Ask her if her love does not grow stronger for her child with each day’s passing.”
“This is so,” Janie agreed.
“What are you saying, Erin?”
“The bond between mother and child is a strong one, but it does not grow strong until the mother knows that child.”
Brenna was appalled. “So you think ’tis kinder to kill the child at birth, before a bond can be formed? What of the bond the mother feels while carrying the child? Do you discount that?”
“I know only that I lost a son at birth through none but natural causes. My wife and I grieved only a short while, and then the child we never knew was forgotten. I had another son whom I came to love, and I lost him after ten short summers. This son I grieve for to this day, carry memories that still haunt me.”
“I am sorry, Erin.”
“You are sorry, but do you understand, Brenna? Can you see that ’tis kinder to lose the child at birth, before the child knows what life has to offer, before the parents know what ’tis like to love that child, rather than lose the child later, when the loss will nearly destroy the parents?”
“Nay, this I cannot understand. A weak child can be made strong, a deformed child can be taught to do for itself.”
“Mayhaps in your land, lass, but this is the North, where lives are governed by snow and ice. This is spring, and yet you still burn your fire for warmth. Look at the smoke, Brenna. A weak babe would die from that smoke, yet to keep it from the fire would cause it to die from the cold.”
“I could never see the wisdom of it, Erin, so enough,” Brenna said and turned away.
Her hands were shaking as she served her friends a meal. She had been so delighted to see them, but now she wished they had never come. Their talk of the feud and killing babies had depressed her terribly. She could not touch her own food, her stomach was churning so.
The others chatted on as if they were unaffected by the earlier talk. Erin stared at Brenna thoughtfully. She tried to avoid his eyes, and finally left the table to tidy the room. After a while, she still found him staring at her, and could stand it no more.
