Sigrun's Secret (12 page)

Asgrim rolled his eyes but father answered gently. ‘Most people here do neither, Sigrun. They are crafts-people who sell their goods or trade them for food with farmers from the surrounding area. If they spread out more, the city would be too sprawling to defend.’

‘Oh,’ I said in a small voice, feeling humiliated by my own ignorance. I’d heard of cities, but I’d had no picture in my mind that matched this. How did they fare in times of bad harvest, these city people? When food was scarce, and I could certainly remember winters when it had been at home, where did they turn?

We passed a house in front of which a man seemed to be squatting behind a sort of fence. I glanced curiously at him and then hurriedly looked away. It looked almost as if he … No, he couldn’t be. I glanced one more time, just in time to see him stand up and casually tug his tunic back down over his bare backside. Oh, by the goddess, he’d been relieving himself out in the busy street.

Before I’d recovered from the shock, we’d arrived. Leif was throwing open the door of a large part-timbered house and inviting us inside.

‘Welcome to Jorvik!’ he said.

Thrang’s house was very different to our longhouse at home. Our house was one large room filled with people, cooking fire, looms and other work tools. In contrast, this house felt cold and empty. We entered at street level, into a room which was bare save for some tables and benches.

To my surprise, Leif led us straight through this room and on down a dark, narrow staircase. The nearest thing I’d seen to it was our secret tunnel at home: the dank, earthy smell reminded me of that frightening time when our house was surrounded by enemies.

But down the stairs we found a large room, lit by a fire and oil lamps. It seemed very bare with no loom, no butter churn, and no fishing nets hanging up, but there were cooking pots, a large table, and barrels of food stored. A few chickens scratched in the earth floor and clucked softly in mild indignation as the four of us arrived. At first I thought there was no one here at all, but then I saw an elderly woman crouched by the fire, stirring something in a pot. I looked around me and tried to imagine living here. It was going to be very strange.

The first night in Jorvik was long and sleepless. I’d looked forward to having a roof over my head once more, but now that I did, I found the cellar room airless and stuffy. I listened to all the men snoring in the darkness and wondered how it could be so hot at night-time. I longed to go outside to breathe fresh air, but that would have meant going out into the street, and I didn’t dare. It was noisy too. The city didn’t seem to rest. I could hear voices calling out and laughter way into the small hours.

At breakfast the next morning, Leif offered to show us Jorvik and my father, who’d returned from a night watch on the ship, agreed. My brother brightened at the prospect of going into the city.

The centre of Jorvik took my breath away. It was like nothing I’d ever seen or imagined; like the market at Jarlshof multiplied a hundred or a thousand times. All those people and stalls and goods crowded into restricted spaces between the many houses. I felt penned in and breathless. I took hold of my amulet, and held it tight for a moment, trying to draw strength from its magic and protection.

‘This is a bigger place than either of us has ever seen before,’ said my father, looking down at me with a smile. I nodded dumbly and took the hand he held out, holding it tightly as we made our way through the crowded streets. I hated walking among so many people.

‘It’s no bigger than Dublin,’ said my brother, walking with a nonchalant self-assurance which bordered on a swagger. ‘I like city life. It beats scratching a living out of the dirt.’

My father frowned, but said nothing. I too made an effort to hold my tongue, but I couldn’t believe Asgrim was speaking about our precious farm like this. Especially knowing how hard my parents had worked to build it up from nothing. It was stupid as well. After all, Asgrim had no trade that would enable him to make a living in a city.

We walked down one street where they were making cups, bowls, plates, and other things out of wood. In another they all seemed to be making ropes of different sizes and materials. There were stalls of leather goods, with the most amazing shoes and helmets. We turned a corner and came to a street full of food. Some vendors were selling vegetables I’d never seen before. I recognized carrots, but nothing else. The colour and freshness appealed to my eye and palate at once. Another was selling fruit; berries larger and juicier than any I’d seen.

‘Look!’ I exclaimed, tugging my father’s hand so he turned to look. ‘I’ve never seen these berries before. They’re so big. What are they?’

‘Blackberries,’ said Leif with a smile. ‘And those are apples. Don’t you know them?’ I shook my head, and Leif pulled a purse from his pocket and exchanged part of a silver coin for some of the fruit which he offered us. The blackberries were large, juicy and astonishingly sweet. Leif held an apple out to me next. It was huge and I had no idea how it should be eaten so I shook my head nervously. My brother however, bit with relish through its green skin and deep into the white flesh beneath. I watched as a trickle of juice ran down his chin and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. I decided I’d try one the next time I had the chance.

The next street was lined with stalls selling fabrics. There were woollens of all descriptions. Some raw and untreated, some dyed and woven into fantastic shades and patterns. I’d rarely seen such skilled workmanship.

Some stalls had a fabric I’d never seen before, and I was drawn to touch it. To my surprise it was thin, soft, and delicate. I gasped slightly at the rich feel of it under my fingertips.

‘What is it?’ I asked the stallholder wonderingly.

‘Finest silk,’ he told me. ‘All the way from China. And just the right shade to compliment your dark hair,’ he added as I reached out to touch a cloth in a deep, rich shade of blue.

‘Silk is the latest fashion for the women who can afford it,’ Leif explained. ‘It tells everyone you are well-to-do. I’ve heard it’s much more comfortable than wool, especially in summer.’

‘In that case, Sigrun should certainly have some,’ said my father with a grin. ‘I can’t have her looking like a rustic here in Jorvik.’

Before I could say a word he began to bargain with the vendor. I tugged on his sleeve. ‘Please, father,’ I whispered. ‘I really don’t need … ’

But he shook his head at me and insisted. In only a few moments I was the owner of a folded piece of the beautiful blue cloth, and was quite speechless. I hugged it to me as we began to make our way back.

It was a few minutes before I noticed that my brother was no longer with us.

‘Oh,’ I exclaimed, looking around. ‘Where … ?’

‘He slipped away while you were buying the cloth,’ said Leif apologetically. ‘I wasn’t sure if I should say.’

My father made no comment, but a deep frown furrowed his brow.

When we reached the house again, it was to find Thrang had returned home. ‘Thrang!’ exclaimed my father. ‘We only beat you here by a day!’

‘I know the best ways and the swiftest currents, my friend,’ replied Thrang, clapping my father on the shoulder. ‘Come, let’s have some mead. Erik, Leif, come and join us!’

I had nothing to do but sit and listen to the merriment of the men who weren’t guarding the ship. At home I would have helped get the meal or talked to the other women, but Thrang’s servant frowned at me and shook her head when I offered to help, which surprised me. I sat disconsolately by the fire and stared into the flickering flames wondering what I was going to find to do with myself, shut in this house in the city.

It was late before my brother returned. The door had been locked for the night, so he had to knock. As soon as the servant had let him in, Asgrim demanded to be let out again. I could hear him retching out in the street, and shuddered. What had happened to my brother? What was making him behave like this?

My father went up to him. There was a fiercely whispered exchange at the top of the stairs, which I couldn’t help overhearing.

‘What do you mean by coming back in this state again?’ I heard my father hiss. ‘You are a guest in Thrang’s house. You owe him your duty, not drunken foolishness and mess. The whole house stinks now.’

‘Don’t tell me what to do,’ said my brother rudely, his words slurred and his voice loud in the relative stillness of the night. ‘I don’t take orders from a slave!’

I caught my breath and scrunched up tight under my covers, clutching my amulet in horror at the disrespect. I could feel the anger of both men like a wave of poison seeping into the house.

There was the sound of an angry exclamation, quickly stifled, and then my father spoke low but full of suppressed rage. ‘Keep your voice down! Would you throw my past in my face? You should be glad I’ve given you a different life. At least I know how to behave as a guest. Clean yourself up and get some rest. There’s work to be done in the morning.’

My father’s footsteps, quick and firm, came down the stairs and crossed the room. I heard him fling himself onto his furs. My brother’s footsteps soon followed, unsteady and faltering. He tripped, swore, and fumbled with his bedding.

Once the servant had locked the door again, the house fell silent, the stillness broken only by my brother’s drunken snores. Father didn’t snore, and I suspected that, like me, he was lying awake, unhappy. My brother’s behaviour was upsetting him. And perhaps he was thinking of my mother, left alone and injured at home. Well, not completely alone, of course. Asgerd would look after her and the others would run the farm and house. But I wished we could be there with her. I thought of her many times in every day, and worried constantly about the fact that Halfgrim lived only two days’ ride away.

I thought of Ingvar too. In the cover of darkness, I touched my amulet to my lips. I remembered his farewell kiss. I’d thought of it so many times since, that I no longer knew what was real and what was imagined. I longed to see him again, to watch the way his fair hair caught the light and glowed, and the way his blue eyes flashed when he was enthusiastic about something. Was he sleeping now, as I was trying to do? Did he think of me?

I eventually fell asleep with the wide bay and the broad mountains of Iceland stretching out in the empty spaces of my mind, their shimmering grandeur a dazzling contrast to the overfilled city I now found myself in.

My brother was surly at breakfast. Having been rudely awakened by my father, he sat silent and grim faced, wincing at loud sounds. Thrang and Leif politely ignored him and continued to chat with father. After breakfast father took Asgrim aside.

‘This can’t go on, Asgrim,’ father said. ‘You’re a grown man and must behave like one. You’ve been taught manners and decent standards of behaviour. I want you to remember them.’

‘Decent standards?’ sneered Asgrim. ‘What, like killing and stealing? Very well, I’ll be happy to learn those from you.’

Father’s lips tightened as he fought to control his temper: his shoulders were tense and his hands twitched into fists. However, after a moment’s silence he spoke again and his voice was controlled.

‘Thrang needs a crew for his ship from tomorrow. I’ve volunteered to go and you’ll accompany us. Sober. Is that clear?’

‘What are we doing working as labourers when we have our own ship?’ asked Asgrim angrily. ‘We could sail out and take plunder and win glory in our own right, not skulk here as though we don’t know any better. There are fighting men aplenty in Jorvik who would go with us for the chance of booty.’

‘Never!’ exclaimed my father, raising his voice. ‘I won’t prey on innocent families. We’ll do honest work to repay Thrang for our keep. You’ll accompany me tomorrow.’

‘Of course,’ said Asgrim, but his voice and bearing showed no remorse. Father turned away, but I saw the sly look which Asgrim threw at his back and felt uneasy. I watched for an opportunity to speak to father privately, but it didn’t come. He said he, Thrang, and Asgrim had work to do, and sent me to market with Unn, their slave woman, to help carry home the food she bought. I hated the experience. Unn was unfriendly, and the crowds terrified me. I came home longing to speak to father, but he’d already gone out again with Thrang. By the time I could tell him my fears, Asgrim had disappeared.