“I knew you didn’t want to travel with me. And if I was away, you couldn’t conceive a child.” He shrugged it off, for it didn’t matter.
“That was your dream, not mine,” she admitted. “I should have given you my blessing, but I was too afraid to be alone.” She reached up to touch his cheek, and offered, “I still love you, Styr.”
Her words hollowed out another piece of him. After all these years, she deserved the words in return. But before he could say them, she covered his lips with her hand.
“Don’t say it. I’ve known you too long, and that isn’t what you feel for me. Not anymore.” Another tear broke free and rolled down her cheek. She smiled through her tears, adding, “We had some good years together.”
“We did.” He smoothed back her hair, a harshness rising in his throat. “And we’ll have more.” It was a hollow promise, but the best he could do. It was strange to be grieving the loss of a child who had never been conceived.
But perhaps he was grieving the loss of what there had once been between them.
Elena captured his hand and stood up from the bed. In her eyes, he saw the heartbreak. And amidst the pain, there was a glimpse of the woman he’d cared about.
“Will you walk with me?” she asked. There was hesitancy in her voice, as if she were suddenly nervous. He nodded, still holding her hand.
The gown she’d worn was fitted to her slender form, and a dark blue apron hung over it, pinned at the shoulders. Her reddish-blonde hair was braided, with several strands hanging loose around her face.
He opened the door for her, and though it was past evening, it was not yet dark. She kept her hand in his, leading him towards Ragnar’s house.
“He’ll finish it in another few days,” Styr predicted. His friend had built the house and several of their kinsmen lived with him. It surprised him that Elena would lead him here, to a house filled with men. Her despondent mood made it more likely that she would want to be alone to weep.
When they entered, the men were seated at a long table, a feast of meat and ale spread before them. Styr greeted Onund, Ragnar, and the others, but Elena caught their attention, raising her hands.
“There is something I would ask of you,” she began. The men turned to listen, and Styr had no idea what her intention was.
“I ask you to be my witnesses.” Her sea-green eyes locked on to his, and she faced him. “I have been wedded to Styr for five years now. In that time, I have been barren, and it is unfair of me to bind him in this marriage.”
She let go of his hand, and shock roared through him when she pronounced, “I divorce you, Styr Hardrata. In the presence of these witnesses.” Three times she repeated the declaration, leaving him stunned.
He wasn’t the only one. The other men were as startled as he, and none of them knew how to react. She’d not told him anything of her intentions, giving him no means of arguing.
Without another word, she left the longhouse, returning to the house they had once shared.
Styr followed her, hurrying until he’d caught up. “You think to divorce me? Just like that, with no word of explanation?” He was furious with her and embarrassed that she’d done it before so many witnesses, leaving no doubt of her intentions. “Why? I thought you wanted to try again!”
She held the door open and waited for him to enter. He slammed it behind him, and she sat calmly upon a footstool.
“We don’t belong together, Styr. We never did, and the gods refused to give us children.”
“Did I make you that miserable?” he shot back.
“Yes!” She stood up again, facing him down. “And don’t tell me I didn’t do the same to you.” Her hands were trembling, but her green eyes were furious. “You tried. Both of us tried, but you were never happy. It doesn’t have to be this way.”
She turned away, admitting, “I saw the way you looked at her, Styr. I saw the way she held you. She loves you. And you love her, the way you never loved me.”
He couldn’t bring himself to deny it. But the anguish in Elena’s face was echoed by regret in his own heart. Without a word, he touched her shoulders, embracing her from behind.
“I want you to go to her,” she continued. “Marry her if she’s the one you want. And perhaps you’ll have the sons I could never give you.”
He couldn’t imagine what courage it took to give her blessing, after what she’d endured. “What about you?”
Elena moved in his arms to face him. “I’ll stay here, for now. I don’t know where I’ll go after that.” She shook her head, and he dried her tears.
Leading her toward the bed, he bade her sit down. Instead, she chose the floor, leaning back against the raised straw pallet. He came and sat beside her.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t the husband you needed,” he admitted at last.
“It wasn’t terrible,” she said. “There were some good moments.”
