They followed Caelin into the shieling and she settled down beside the fire while Arne washed quickly in the basin. She looked into the basket to see both cubs now with their eyes open and moving about far more than they had last night. It was funny watching them pushing against each other, climbing half on top of one another, then falling off.
“We need to give them names. What shall we call them?” Caelin picked one up and stroked it. She admired the way he was so gentle with them. Most children his age did not know their own strength or when to stop, but Caelin seemed to be remarkably attuned to the tiny creatures and was gentle and caring with them.
“You must think of names for them, Caelin.”
“Arne, help me choose. They’ll need to be Norse names so that I can call for them and anyone who hears will not realise I am not Norse.”
Gemma stilled. To her the future was unclear, and yet it seemed as if Caelin assumed he would remain in the Norse settlement at Kirkjaster, or at least amongst Norse people. Hiding. He probably did not realise what that meant.
“Why don’t you pick two names? One if we live amongst the Britons and one for if we live amongst the Norse?”
“No,” Caelin said. “When we go back to Ir Ysgyn, they should be able to keep their names.”
Gemma frowned at the way he spoke as if he took for granted that he would return home. She glanced at Arne and saw he too was frowning.
“The Britons might resent that,” Arne pointed out.
“I will be their lord,” Caelin stated. They’ll have to like it if I say so.”
“Caelin—” Gemma took a deep breath. She had never really talked about this with Caelin, assuming he was too young to understand. He really was too young, but it was clear he had picked up bits and pieces of information and made assumptions. She needed to discuss this with him, and soon. If only she knew what to say.
“Have you asked the cubs what their names are?” Arne asked, breaking the tension.
Gemma laughed, but stopped when she realised he was serious. What sort of nonsense was this? Animals did not know their own names. But Arne was watching Caelin carefully as if expecting him to do… what? Ask them?
Caelin held the cub out in front of him, as if he was choosing a name based on either the cub’s appearance or some deeper connection with it.
“She says her name is Lycka,” he announced.
She glanced at Arne, who frowned at Caelin and asked to hold the cub. Arne checked it carefully and nodded at her.
“Do you know if the other one is a boy or a girl, Caelin?” Arne asked.
“It’s a boy.” Caelin held the second cub in front of him as he had done with the other one. “He says his name is Loki.”
“Where have you heard those names before?” Gemma asked. For all Caelin seemed so sure he would go back to living amongst the Britons, it was clear he was far more familiar with the Norse ways and stories than those of his own people.
“I have listened to the skalds singing at night sometimes,” Caelin said. “And some of the other children tell stories. I have also heard Arne telling stories to Einar and Elisedd. Stories about the gods and other worlds and the great tree which connects the worldstogether. Do you think that is the tree Adam and Eve ate the apple from, Mama?”
Gemma thought for a moment. “I don’t know. I don’t think anyone truly knows the answers to questions like that. But I think not. They are in different places. I’m sure Arne’s tree lies somewhere in the cold north, while the Garden of Eden lies to the south in a land that is hot and full of sand.”
“Qasim told me he had been to many of the places the priests speak of when they tell us of Jesus.”
“Did he now?”
Gemma looked at Arne, who nodded.
“It is very likely. Qasim’s people live in the area where those stories have travelled from.”
“Oh,” Gemma said, frowning. “But Qasim had another faith entirely.”
“Yes. There are many faiths. People understand and experience the world around them in different ways.”
“Oh, I knew that, but… That makes it seem somehow more real.” Gemma hoped Caelin didn’t mention any of these other stories if they were ever near a priest again. She knew from having spoken to Aoife that they rarely accepted any views of the world other than their own were correct and even to be tolerated.
“The god Loki is always playing tricks,” Caelin informed her. “And he has magic powers.”
“Let us hope the wolf cub cannot do magic because he will be mischievous enough without that,” Gemma said.
