Sigrun's Secret (17 page)

‘I’ll try,’ I promised. I wanted to ask Leif how well he knew Leola, why he’d waited outside the house and not come in, but I didn’t know where to start, so I said nothing.

I attended Leola twice a day. I prepared decoctions of stone bramble and brewed angelica. And when Leif heard that I’d recommended berries, he took blackberries to the house every morning.

It took many days, but at last Leola began to grow stronger again. I was amazed at my success and began to feel a completely new confidence.

‘How’s Leola?’ was Leif’s first question when he returned from the city each day.

‘She has a cough that troubles her,’ I said on the eighth day. ‘I think she developed it because she was so weak. But she was sitting up today, having her hair combed and choosing a fabric for a new dress.’

‘Thank Thor!’ exclaimed Leif devoutly.

I felt I was deceiving him. I didn’t need the powers of my amulet to guess he was in love with her, and I wondered how shocked he’d be if he knew she’d been with child. But I’d promised to keep her secret.

I caught Maria’s eye as I looked away and saw something there. I sensed anger and dislike in her. Not towards me, nor Leif. I hadn’t forgotten she’d been a slave in Eadred’s household, and wished she could tell me about it.

Leif was among the first to be allowed to visit Leola and receive her thanks for finding her a healer who could cure her.

‘She says you saved her life,’ he told me afterwards. ‘You must have very powerful magic.’

I shook my head. ‘It’s not magic, just a matter of finding the right treatment,’ I said.

The next day when I arrived at Leola’s, Eadred was there waiting for me. He looked surprised when he saw my face. ‘You’re the Viking girl,’ he said. ‘Do you still have that slave or did she run off?’

‘She’s still with me, but no longer a slave,’ I said stiffly.

I remembered the cuts and bruises on Maria’s body and had to force myself to be polite.

‘I believe I owe you thanks for saving my niece’s life,’ Eadred said. He held out a small purse. ‘Please accept this as payment.’

My first impulse was to throw it in his face. I wanted to tell him I would accept nothing from a man who would beat a defenceless girl. But just in time I remembered my father’s pressing need for money, and swallowed my pride. At least this purse won’t go towards buying a new slave, I thought, tucking it into my bag.

‘Here you are, father,’ I said, when I got home, and put the purse of Jorvik coins into his hand. ‘Will this help our situation a little?’

My father stared at the coins in silent astonishment.

‘That was for helping Leif’s friend get better,’ I told him.

Father hugged me. ‘This will last us for many weeks,’ he said gratefully. ‘Your mother was right. Now we know why she sent you with me.’

‘I don’t suppose it’ll happen again,’ I said cautiously. But I was wrong. Leif and Leola both told the story of her recovery to their acquaintance. Within a week, I was summoned to another household to treat a sick child. To my relief, I cured her and word spread. Soon someone was calling for me nearly every day.

Time passed. Soon it was
Gormánuður
, slaughtering month, but there was no slaughtering in Thrang’s house, because in the city we bought meat from the market. Erik had returned with no news of Asgrim. We knew he’d sailed out of the Ouse, but we had no idea where he was now, or how he was planning to spend the winter.

We were meanwhile gradually becoming known in the city and one autumn evening we were invited to a banquet held in honour of the king himself.

‘Eadred’s giving the banquet for King Siefred,’ Leif explained. ‘It’s a great honour that we should have been invited; I think we owe it to Leola. And to your skills, of course.’

I was surprised. We’d lived quietly in Jorvik until now. Thrang and father worked and talked together, Leif had his own set of friends he visited, and I’d become used to our quiet fireside in the evenings and Maria’s silent but pleasant company. To be invited out among the nobles of the city was a great change. I felt shy and awkward and didn’t want to go, especially not to Eadred’s house. I looked to my father, pleading silently to be left behind.

‘I don’t want to go either, Sigrun,’ said Thrang, seeing my look. ‘I can’t stand the family. But refusal would give offence.’

‘It’ll do you good to meet some new people,’ said my father. ‘You can wear that silk overdress we paid so much for!’

‘I meet many people, father,’ I objected. ‘I go into new families several times a week.’

‘That’s different,’ said my father. ‘Tonight you’ll be an honoured guest.’

I always am, I thought. I was welcomed into every household I visited with reverence and hope, and I hadn’t yet grown used to it.

‘Honour and Eadred aren’t words that belong in the same sentence,’ said Thrang in a surly tone. ‘He’s none too particular in matters of business, I can tell you.’

‘Father, he’s one of the king’s closest friends and a man of great standing in Jorvik!’ exclaimed Leif, annoyed.

‘And don’t think I don’t know you’re defending him because he’s got a pretty niece,’ snarled Thrang. ‘Don’t bother with your best dress, Sigrun,’ he added. ‘Or with bathing before we go. They’re dirty, hairy Saxons and don’t wash from one end of the year to the next.’

My father laughed a little. ‘You’re very harsh!’ he commented. ‘Why do we go, if it will be that dreadful?’

‘As I said, it won’t do to offend the king,’ said Thrang. ‘And it may just put some business my way.’

‘Two good reasons,’ agreed my father with a smile.

‘It wouldn’t surprise me to hear we’ve been invited because the king wants to meet an Icelandic chieftain,’ said Thrang, effectively wiping the smile off my father’s face.

‘I’m no chieftain,’ he said, his cheeks losing a little of their colour. ‘We have neither kings nor chieftains in Iceland. It was my intention to lie low in Jorvik, not to draw attention to myself.’

‘Too late,’ said Thrang gruffly. ‘Your daughter’s done that for you. Everywhere I go these days, I’m asked if it’s my house the new healer’s staying in.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said to my father, conscience stricken. But I couldn’t help but be flattered at how sought-after I’d become. At first I’d thought people would discover I didn’t know what I was doing. But as I helped more and more people and the runes spoke clearly to me, I’d begun slowly to believe a little in my skills. I began to understand how well my mother had taught me. I still missed my home with an ache that never seemed to lessen, but my confidence was growing day by day.

I was also being paid for much of the work I did, sometimes in coin which I gave to father and sometimes in gifts of food which I presented to Thrang. I never asked anyone for a fee, but people gave what they could afford. We no longer had any immediate money worries. I was fulfilling my mother’s prediction, looking after father, and the thought pleased me.

‘Well, I for one am delighted with this invitation,’ said Leif, interrupting my thoughts. ‘We live together in Jorvik; Saxon and Viking side by side. I don’t like to hear them insulted.’

‘Then they should wash!’ said Thrang, exasperated. ‘I can smell a Saxon half a street away, and it offends my nose.’

I remembered the smell in Eadred’s house and couldn’t resist a grin.

‘You see!’ said Thrang triumphantly. ‘Sigrun agrees with me!’

I shook my head, not wanting to upset Leif, who was clearly expecting an evening of great enjoyment.

‘Leola’s the daughter of the former Northumbrian king,’ said Leif. ‘She’s a princess.’

‘She’s trouble, whatever else she is,’ growled Thrang. ‘Don’t think you can turn up here with her on your arm one day, because I won’t have her for a daughter-in-law.’

‘That’s not your choice,’ said Leif angrily. ‘When the time comes, I’ll marry to please myself, not you.’

Thrang gave a gruff bark of laughter. ‘Of course you will,’ he said more mildly. ‘But not that girl if you have any sense.’

Still arguing, the four of us washed, changed, and walked to Eadred’s house. There was a crowd gathered, a mixture of Norse and Saxon as Leif had predicted. The smell of unwashed bodies and clothes was stronger than the smell of roasting meat in the house, and I wondered at Leif, choosing to fall in love with a Saxon girl. He was so clean and neat himself. But when Leola came gracefully towards us, she smelled fresh and perfumed, unlike her kin. She looked very pretty, dressed, as I was, in a silken overdress over her woollen kirtle, her dark hair neatly plaited. Rich jewellery gleamed at her throat and wrists, and beautiful brooches pinned her dress.

Leif didn’t try and hide his admiration for her. It was written on his face, in his eyes; it oozed from every pore of his body. Leola bestowed a particularly sweet smile on him, and allowed him to hold her hand a little longer than was necessary, casting down her eyes as she did so, as though overcome with shyness and modesty. But I sensed no shyness in her; only excitement. She was enjoying herself, surrounded by admiring guests; the centre of attention. It was a part she was playing. I reminded myself she’d already been with child, so she wasn’t as virtuous or innocent as she was pretending.

I was seated between a Norse woman and a young man at table. The woman ignored me, talking and flirting loudly with her neighbour on her other side. The young man sat silently. He was fair and handsome, but looked arrogant and disdainful too. He was so busy watching Leola that he had no attention to spare for me. Leif had secured a place beside her, and looked very happy whispering in her ear. She was smiling, clearly pleased by his words. She turned aside for a moment to cough, and I frowned, my professional interest aroused. That cough still lingered, though in every other way she seemed well. I wondered about the hollyhock I’d bought but not yet tried. Perhaps that would help her.

I saw Leif half put his arm around Leola asking if she was quite well. I sensed jealousy and anger beside me. I looked at my neighbour and saw him glaring at Leif. I searched my mind for something I could say to the young man, to distract his attention from Leif and break the uncomfortable silence between us.

‘Do you live here in Jorvik?’ I asked him at last.

He looked round at me as though he’d only just noticed I was there. ‘What?’

Feeling stupid, I repeated my pointless question.

‘Of course I do,’ he replied impatiently. ‘I’m the king’s son.’

‘Oh, I see,’ I said, feeling even more stupid. ‘Sorry, I didn’t know. I’m a visitor here. My name’s Sigrun.’

‘Mmm,’ said the young man, sounding bored, looking away again, his eyes seeking Leola once more.

I knew that I shouldn’t feel embarrassed, because it was he that was rude and ill-mannered, not me, but I couldn’t help it. Seated as I was, I had nothing to do but eat, watch, and listen. It was a long, dull meal, and I longed to be at home with Maria. She must feel betrayed tonight, knowing we were dining in the house of her former masters. It was an uncomfortable thought.

We were served oysters, mussels and other shellfish, platters of roasted beef, ducks and golden plovers stuffed with walnuts and berries, as well as a wide selection of vegetables, including leeks, carrots, and parsnips. I’d never seen such a spread, but felt too nervous and uncomfortable in my surroundings to do more than sample a few of the delicacies. At long last the dishes were cleared and an expectant buzz filled the room. Unexpectedly, my neighbour spoke to me.

‘Well, let’s hope the entertainment will be good tonight. Eadred’s going all out to impress my father, I see.’

‘It was a fine feast,’ I agreed, not knowing what else to say.

He snorted slightly under his breath and I took it to mean he didn’t agree with me but wasn’t going to say so.

‘So which is your father?’ I asked him. I’d been trying to work it out all evening. I’d imagined a king would be someone so important that I’d be able to pick him out in a crowd, but I’d been wrong.

‘He’s sitting on Eadred’s right,’ said my neighbour, pointing out a wiry, fierce-looking man, dressed modestly. When I looked closely, I could see something powerful about him. He wouldn’t be a man to cross.

‘And will you be king after him?’ I asked curiously.

I realized at once that this was a tactless question. Of course I shouldn’t mention his father’s death so casually. But I didn’t get the reaction I expected. My neighbour scowled darkly.

‘I will not be, unless my brother Thorvald dies of the sickness that’s currently plaguing him, or by some other lucky chance,’ he replied.

I was speechless. How could he speak of his brother like that?

At that moment, a hush fell on the crowded room as the entertainment began. A man played a haunting tune on the panpipes, which gave me goose bumps down my arms, it was so beautiful. Another recited poetry: some contained words of wisdom, others were outrageous insults about a man called Alfred who was married to a goat and wore women’s dresses. I’d never heard of him, but the poem made everyone roar with laughter. The king laughed louder than any.

‘Who’s this Alfred?’ I asked my neighbour.