After one last hug, Eahlswith climbed onto Steinar’s horse, Fáfnir. He had decided, upon being told that she wasn’t confident on horseback at the best of time, to walk next to the beautiful stallion.
“Even if you could ride another horse next to me, it’s better if you don’t, with your foot injured as it is,” he’d declared.
She had been too relieved to agree. Having never had any real opportunity to ride, she would have been nervous managing her own mount.
As they left the village, she couldn’t help but steal one last glance behind her. Nestled in the middle of a neatly-kept vegetable patch was Sven’s hut. What was she doing, leaving him without a word again? Would he come after her when Cwenthryth told him she had already left?
Only time would tell.
She turned her head and looked resolutely onward.
3
“We’re going to have to do something about the hole in the roof. ’Tis past time.”
Eahlswith looked at the corner of the room with concern. Moments after she had walked through the door, bringing bread and cheese for Osbert’s lunch, another plank had come crashing down. They could not ignore it any longer, his house was falling to pieces. It had been bad enough in the summer but now that winter was here, it meant that wind, rain and snow, when it eventually came, would get in. Not only that, but one day a plank could fall on his head and injure, if not kill him.
Of course, the old man could have come to live with her. It was the obvious solution, but he’d refused her offer every time she’d made it, arguing that a young woman needed her freedom. No matter how many times she’d assured him she rarely received any guests, he stubbornly refused. She had the impression he wanted to leave her the possibility to welcome a man in her life if she ever decided it was time to put the past behind and settle. Like the coward she was, she had not insisted.
That discussion was not one she was ready to have, least of all with him.
“I know we need to see to this roof,” he told her with a sigh. “But as you know…”
Yes, she did know.
Finding someone ready to take on such a momentous task for no monetary reward had proven impossible. The people willing to help were either too busy or incompetent to do what needed to be done.
“I suppose I could try to?—”
“You are not to go up on the roof in this icy weather, or do anything else equally dangerous, young lady. I will not have your injury on my conscience.”
“I thank you for the faith you put in my ability,” she mumbled, though in truth she was relieved he’d not agreed to her suggestion. She didn’t know the first thing about carpentry and she dreaded the idea of being up so high. Only the other day, her friend Leofric had fallen off his ladder and broken his leg. If he, who knew what he was doing, could lose his footing, what would happen to her?
“It’s not a question of faith, but I?—”
A knock cut Osbert mid-sentence. Glad of the interruption, Eahlswith went to open the door—and froze.
A man was standing in front of her. And not just any man. A tall, forbidding Norseman. More than ever, she felt sure he had to be the human equivalent of a Norse god. Her insides quivered. What was Sven doing here, in front of Osbert’s house? Then she noticed a bag was slung over his shoulder. Planks of wood were sticking out of it and the way it sagged indicated that it was loaded with heavy tools.
Was he really— Had he really come to?—
She had fully expected to see him again, but she had imagined he would come to her door, demanding explanations for her sudden departure, not that he would visit her old friend.
Before she could say anything he pointed at himself and then to the hole in the roof. Then he said something in Norse. She stared in fascination as guttural, incomprehensible words flowed from his mouth. Dear Lord, but he was a completely different man to the one she had bedded back in the summer, or even seen in the village three days ago. Gone were the gleam in his eye, the suggestive grin, the relaxed attitude. Today he was a man made of stone, and he would not be deterred.
Everything within her quivered.
“Who is that?” Osbert asked, coming to stand next to her. “I thought I heard— Heavens!” he exclaimed, taking in the formidable sight. He might not see as well as she could but he would not have failed to notice their visitor’s unusual size and bulk. “A Norseman!”
Sven nodded and uttered another comment in Norse. He evidently meant to pretend he could not speak or even understand their language, though why that might be, Eahlswith couldn’t fathom. Her mind was too addled by his sudden appearance to allow her to think straight.
“What on earth is this, Eahlswith? Do you know this man?”
“I do. And I think he’s come to repair the roof,” she said, torn between gratitude and irritation.
“Has he? But how does he even know about it?”
That was a good question. She’d been wondering the same thing. “You know my friend, Cwenthryth, is now married to a Norseman? Well, this man is her husband’s brother. He will have heard me tell her about it on my last visit to her village.”
