“Yes. I missed you so much I’m delighted to be close to you. Besides, I think it’s better for children to be raised away from towns, don’t you?”
Eahlswith placed her hand over her stomach, smiling. Cwenthryth cried out again. “You’re with child!”
This time even the boys paid attention.
“You mean that we are to have more baby cousins?” Rothgar, the youngest, asked, dropping a turnip into the pile to his left. Aged almost eleven, he fancied himself a man already. “Could we have a boy this time, at least?”
Sven laughed. Indeed, in the last few years the boys had welcomed three cousins, all girls, and two little sisters. “I’m sorry, I cannot guarantee this baby will be a boy. But I suppose if it’s not we can always have another try.”
Eahlswith blushed.
“Congratulations, brother. I’m happy for you.” It was obvious Steinar was fighting a smile. Sven didn’t let it bother him, he’d already known he would be met with incredulity when he announced his news. But people would soon see he was as reliable as the other men in the family.
“Will you please hold Sanna while Cwenthryth feeds Liv?” Steinar asked next, lifting his daughter up to him. Up until then her mother had kept an eye on her, but the baby had now woken up and needed to eat. “I don’t want her to fall into the trench.”
“No, that wouldn’t be the best idea.” The trench in question was almost as deep as she was tall and he could see the little girl’s fascination with it.
As he took his niece in his arms, Sven felt a surge of pure joy course through him. Soon, he would get to hold his own child. What would his baby look like? Girl or boy, unlike Rothgar, he had no preference. All he wanted was a healthy child, if possible with eyes as dark as its mother’s, just like Sanna’s were. He smiled at the little girl, who was clapping her hands for no reason he could discern.
“Uncle Sen.”
“Yes. Come with me, sweetheart. We’re going to see your grandparents.”
EPILOGUE
“Thank you. These are amazing.”
With a smile Eahlswith took the four clay pots Eirik had brought as a moving in gift for her and Sven. All day well wishers had dropped by the new hut to deposit presents. The delicate pots were her favorite yet.
“Thank you, Eirik,” she heard Sven say from behind her. “These will be put to good use when we tap open the cask of ale your uncle brought us earlier.”
Eahlswith’s heart almost stopped when she turned to face him. She was still not used to the fact that her husband liked to wander about bare-chested during the warmer months but she was certainly enjoying it.
Just as the two men started to talk about the foal Wolf had gifted little Emma, a woman with flaming red hair appeared at the corner of the forge. As soon as she spotted him, she walked over to Sven. She was accompanied by a girl of about ten summers and appeared unsure of where she was going—or rather, not certain where to find who she wanted to see.
Eahlswith’s stomach dropped. Not another woman trying to lure Sven back into her bed, like Freydis had, back in thewinter… Or perhaps it was even worse, perhaps the woman was here to introduce him to his daughter. He was certainly old and experienced enough to have fathered a child that age. Not now, not when their life was perfect and they were about to welcome their first child together!
As if sensing her agitation, he drew closer to her.
“Fret not,ást mín. It’s not what you think. I’ve never even met her,” he said quietly, placing a hand on her very swollen stomach. Cwenthryth had told her to expect the birth to happen within the month.
The woman stopped in front of their little group. She looked so nervous that Eahlswith’s heart instantly went out to her. This woman would be no threat to anyone, much less to her.
“Good afternoon. Is one of you Wolf the Icelander’s son?” Her accent was a lot stronger than that of the people of the village, as if she had lived abroad all her life.
“I am,” Sven answered, taking a step forward. “I’m Sven, the youngest.”
She relaxed, like someone finally reaching the end of a long journey. “I’m Freyja, Rune and Eowyn’s daughter. You might have heard of my parents?”
“Rune and Eowyn?” Eahlswith watched as both men’s eyes widened in surprise. Indeed the name seemed familiar to them.
Sven recovered first. “My father lives over there,” he told her, gesturing toward the hut nestled in the shade of a majestic oak. “I’m sure he will be delighted to see you.”
“I…” She seemed unsure of the welcome she would get.
Sensing her hesitation, Eirik nodded at her. “I’ll take you there. I’m Eirik. My mother Frigyth was your mother’s best friend when she lived here.”
“Eirik, yes, I’ve heard all about Frigyth and Sigurd’s family. I thank you.” Freyja seemed relieved to meet someone whosename was familiar. “Come, Asta,” she told the little girl, taking her by the hand. “We’re almost there.”
