Aoife smoothed her skirts. It was time to take a stand, even if it was a small one. “That is one way to look at it. But a wise man might see things differently. I am married to your jarl, which makes me one of you. My father’s kin showed they do not want me. Last night they did not come only to attack the village.” Aoife stopped, took a breath. “They wouldn’t have hesitated to kill me, then they would have blamed you for my death. I heard them. If they want me dead, then they are nothing to me.”
With that, she stood and strode from the room out into the main hall. She ignored Ragna’s query as to whether everything was all right and headed outside. Once there, she leaned against the wall, trying to get her pounding heart to slow. She was deep in thought, numb—truly cast adrift. She had no idea what the future held for her now. Would the Norse turn on her, also believing her to haveno further value? Would Tormod divorce her, or would they simply have her killed?
Then she remembered the way Elisedd had been treated. An inconvenient child, a suspected saboteur, and yet he had not been killed at first sight. He had had a trial. Perhaps she would be granted that. She blinked back tears. Her father would not have troubled himself with such details. If he thought he had found a traitor, then they would be killed with no such trivialisations as a proper hearing, let alone a trial. Ula would have insisted upon it.
As her heart stopped pounding in her ears, she heard Tormod and the others shouting. In Norse, so she could only understand odd words here and there. She wished none of this had ever happened. Wished she were back in the abbey…
No, whether she lived or died here, it was better than being in the abbey. These last few weeks, she had had more freedom and affection than ever before. It was hard not to feel grateful.
The voices quieted, and she sensed the group had fallen back into their usual harmony. Perhaps a quick decision had been made about her and her future.
The door to the hall banged open and the four of them strode out towards the barn. She shrank back into the shadows so they didn’t see her. She wasn’t ready to face her future quite yet.
She made her way back to their room and sat on the edge of the bed. Exhaustion swept through her. She ran her hand over her still flat stomach. What if she was with child after last night? How would that change her life? Would Tormod be angry? He did not want her to have a child yet, he’d made that clear. So what would he do if she became pregnant?
She would lie down for a minute. Just until she was feeling better. By then she would be ready to face whatever decision had been made about her. She closed her eyes and drifted into an uneasy sleep.
Once again she dreamed. In those dreams she saw the bear and the wolf and the hawk, heard the rumble of thunder and felt its presence within her. A queasy sensation indicated she was on a boat. She tasted the spray on her tongue. Fresh water, not salt. And yet she was on a longship, could see the proud head of the dragon in front of her and feel the flapping of the sail behind her. She turned and saw many men hunched over their oars. There were other boats on the water.
A cry made her turn. In front of her she saw her father’s fort, in total darkness.
Then she was at the gates, then running into the courtyard. An unearthly silence blanketed the place. Death hung in the air. She looked around. There were bodies everywhere. She ran and ran, but couldn’t reach the end of the staircase. Lightning flashed, blinding her.
She woke with a start.
Tormod stood beside her, axe in hand. They had decided to kill her, after all. She screamed and pushed herself back on the bed, curling up as far from him as possible. She steeled herself for the blow, then heard the axe clatter on the floor. Instead, his arms came around her, his body covering hers, strong and solid.
He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. “What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“More than nothing,” he said, pulling away from her. He placed a finger on her chin and tilted her face to make her look up at him. “You were screaming. I thought someone had come to kill you.”
So, he had come to save her, not kill her. “I-it was… It was just a dream.”
She swallowed, fearful he would press her for more details.
“They will not take you from me,” he growled.
She clung to him, grateful for the support, but unsure how or why he had become so protective. “What… what did you decide?”
“About your father?”
“Yes, and about me and the prisoner.”
“There is nothing to decide about you. You are my wife.”
“But Ulf is right. This marriage was supposed to protect you, protect the village. And now you know my father is willing to have me killed. I am no help in protecting anyone.”
She felt Tormod laugh before she heard him. “It was supposed to be a marriage which cemented an alliance, yes, but I do not need you to protect me. I would never rely on only one thing for safety. Particularly if that was a woman. That is not what the problem is.”
“Then what is the problem?” She pushed at him and sat up. “Ulf thinks I am a traitor.”
“No, he does not. He thinks you are a victim.”
“But he said—”
“He often speaks in anger before he has time to catch up with his own thoughts. That is why he is not jarl.”
