Sigrun's Secret (21 page)

I looked round at Maria. She’d been intending to spend the feast night at home with Thrang’s servants and a couple of my father’s men and I’d had the feeling she’d been looking forward to it. I felt bad about disrupting her evening, but she jumped to her feet at once.

‘Of course I come,’ she said at once. ‘You need me.’

‘I’m always glad of your help,’ I told her gratefully. ‘In fact, I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

‘You’re a good girl, Maria,’ said my father. ‘Sigrun’s very lucky to have your assistance.’

Maria rarely blushed, but this praise brought a deep colour to her cheeks.

The three of us hurried through the darkening streets. There were few people out in Ousegate and those that were, were cheerful and good-humoured. The commercial quarter through Pavement was unusually quiet. It was a cloudy evening with few stars and some wind and would probably be very dark later.

As we reached the large house we’d been called to in Fossgate, I could already hear screaming and crying. I felt a spasm of fear at the thought of the task ahead. I’d never handled a difficult birth without my mother’s help. The babies I’d delivered so far in Jorvik had come easily into the world.

‘It may be a long night,’ I said nervously to my companions. Maria nodded, biting her lip.

‘Would you like me to wait?’ asked Leif. It was a courageous offer, but I knew how little men relished the fuss and pain of a birth.

‘No, don’t,’ I said. ‘They’ll send someone back with us, or if you’re worried, you can call for us later and ask how it’s going.’

‘I’ll do that,’ said Leif. He clapped us both on the shoulder for good luck, waited until we’d been let in, then walked off into the city.

‘
You’re
the midwife?’ asked an angry-looking man, as I took off my cloak in the upstairs room of the house. I could see by his fine tunic that he must be the chieftain himself. ‘You’re just a child! What do you know about delivering babies?’

All my fears and doubts rushed back to me. What if he was right? Perhaps I wasn’t experienced enough. The mother could die. For a few moments, my cowardice battled with my training and I wanted to turn tail and leave.

Then I remembered all the many births I’d helped my mother at. My hand went to my throat and I briefly touched the amulet hidden under my kirtle. It gave me the courage I needed to read that the man was more afraid than angry.

‘I am not inexperienced, though I’m young,’ I said to the chieftain as calmly as I could. ‘If you’d prefer to call an older midwife, I’d be happy to work with her. Or I can leave now.’

‘The usual midwife is sick with a fever,’ he said, his voice desperate. ‘The other is a drunk, and my wife refused to have her. She wants you. She’s heard you are
supposed
to be something out of the ordinary.’ He looked me up and down. ‘May Odin protect her,’ he muttered.

I remembered my mother telling me never to be upset at the things husbands say when their wives are in labour. ‘They’re usually terrified,’ she’d said. ‘Especially when it’s their first child. They’re afraid for their wives, for their unborn child, and afraid of the whole mystery of birth. They forget their manners.’

Remembering this comforted me. ‘I promise you, I’ll do my best,’ I said.

His poor wife was in a dreadful state. Sweat-drenched and wild-eyed with pain and fear, she clung to my hand as though I was the goddess herself come to save her. Standing close to her, I could feel her agony like a wave breaking over me, threatening to drown me.

‘Help me!’ the woman begged over and over, as the pains racked her body.

For a moment I wished I didn’t have the ability to feel what other people were feeling. I considered taking off the amulet to prevent myself being overcome. But I needed it to guide me. So instead, I tried to breathe deeply and concentrate. I longed for my mother’s calm, confident presence and her skill. My hands were shaking as I examined the woman. I found the baby was breech and I was fairly certain it was too late to turn it. What should I do now?

I cast the runes, waiting for the goddess to guide me. The woman’s screams were rending the air beside me, making it difficult to think. But to my relief, the message was clear: the baby would find his own way into the world. My task would be to ease the labour for the mother. I thought quickly about the various plants I’d brought with me, and went to find Maria.

‘Mix up some powdered elder bark and some valerian, would you, Maria?’ I asked urgently. ‘She’s in so much pain, poor woman.’

‘You can help her?’ asked Maria, shaken by the woman’s screams. Her eyes were wide as she prepared the medicines for me.

‘I pray that I can,’ I said. But in truth I was afraid.

* * *

Leif had called for us twice and left again, and the new day had dawned before the baby was born. He was alive. I sent Maria to tell the father the good news while I tended to the new mother’s hurts. Maria helped me wash the baby gently in warm water, while the mother lay utterly exhausted, unable even to look at her new son. When he was clean, I wrapped him in a soft woollen cloth, held him close and carried him about the room. He looked up at me out of huge, dark eyes, reproachful, as though this way of coming into the world was not what he’d expected at all. ‘You were the wrong way round,’ I whispered to him. ‘A child born feet first is asking for trouble.’

He slept awhile in my arms while his mother slept too, then he woke, hungry. His cry woke his mother, and I showed her how to suckle the baby before I left them together, happy at last.

Maria was dozing by the fire, and Leif sat on a bench nearby, his head in his arms. The new father, the young chieftain, was awake, however, so I sent him in to greet his new son. Our voices woke the others. Maria stirred and stretched.

‘You must be worn out,’ said Leif sleepily, sitting up.

‘I am,’ I agreed wearily, sinking onto the bench beside him. ‘I’ve never been so tired in my life.’

My midwife skills had been tested to the limit and beyond. I’d spent most of the night terrified that my patients might die, and working to prevent it. I was exhausted.

As Leif fetched our cloaks, I went to speak to the chieftain. He was cradling his new-born babe tenderly in his arms.

‘I’m going to leave you now,’ I told him, my voice faint. ‘But I’ll come back soon to check on the mother and child, if you are happy for me to do that.’

‘Yes, please do,’ he begged without a trace of his former hostility. ‘I’m very grateful to you.’

As we stepped out into the street and the cold air hit me, I swayed on my feet. Leif caught me.

‘Take my arm,’ he said. ‘Lean on me, Sigrun. You’ve worked yourself too hard. You need a long rest today.’

‘I do,’ I agreed, leaning on him as we walked slowly towards home. It seemed a far longer road than it had done when we walked it last night. I knew I should ask Leif whether he’d gone to the king’s feast in the end, and I should thank him for taking care of us, but I was too tired to speak. All I could think of was my sleeping furs waiting for me, warm and comfortable, at our journey’s end. My mind was already there, although my body still walked.

When we reached the house, Bjorn and Thrang were up breakfasting together over a jug of ale.

‘Ah! Welcome home!’ exclaimed Thrang as we all came down the stairs.

‘Was it a hard night?’ asked my father.

‘A breech birth,’ I said with a shudder. ‘The first I’ve had to deal with alone. But they’re both well. It’s a boy.’

‘The chieftain will be pleased to have a son,’ said Thrang. ‘A man needs a son.’ He reached out and patted Leif on the back as he spoke. ‘So you’ve been lingering with the womenfolk all night, eh, Leif, instead of attending the king’s feast? Well, well, you’re that age, I suppose. And so I think you’ll be glad to hear our news. Come and sit down all of you. You too, Maria.’

‘News, father?’

‘My friend Bjorn and I had a long talk over the mead last night,’ said Thrang. ‘About the past, about the future, and about the importance of our families.’

‘It sounds like you both got drunk and thoroughly sentimental,’ said Leif with a grin at me. ‘I thought it was a feast with entertainment, not a maudlin drinking party.’

‘Behave yourself, lad, and hear what we have to say,’ Thrang admonished him. ‘We’re thinking of your happiness, so don’t scoff.’

‘Now I’m really nervous,’ said Leif, mock seriously, while his eyes still laughed. I couldn’t help smiling too, weary as I was. But I sensed both our fathers were very much in earnest.

‘Bjorn, you tell them,’ said Thrang. ‘Perhaps he’ll listen more respectfully to you, the impudent dog.’ So saying, he punched his son playfully on the arm.

‘Well, as Thrang said, we’ve been talking about our lives and what made us happiest, and about what you young people have ahead of you. And the first thing I decided is that Maria belongs with us now, for as long as she wants to stay.’

Bjorn turned to Maria and held out his hand.

‘As a mark of respect for what you’ve been through, Maria, and of gratitude for the help you’ve given Sigrun these last months, I’d like to offer to foster you as my daughter. You’ll be a member of our family. That means Sigrun and my wife Thora will teach you all you need to know, and I’ll give you a dowry when you marry.’

Maria sat silent, obviously at a loss for words. Twice she opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

My father glanced over at me, not knowing how to read Maria’s silence. I could feel that Maria was moved. I went to sit beside her and hugged her tight. ‘Welcome to the family,’ I said. ‘I’ve always wanted a sister.’

Father solemnly shook Maria’s hand, and though she said nothing, we all saw how her beautiful dark eyes shone bright with unshed tears.

Then my father turned to me. ‘The other thing concerns your happiness closely, Sigrun. It’s a subject I’ve mentioned to you before.’

A presentiment of what might be coming suddenly wiped the smile from my face and the joy from my heart. The last of my strength drained out of me. I was so desperately tired. How could they do this to me now?

‘I want you to … that is, Thrang and I thought that … ’

He stumbled into silence and looked over at Thrang for help.

‘That you and Leif should consider getting married,’ said Thrang. ‘It’s our dearest wish.’

‘
What?
’ roared Leif, his good humour gone at a stroke.

I sank down onto a bench and leaned my head against one hand. ‘No,’ I said softly. I would never agree to live the rest of my life in Jorvik. I longed for home every day, and I longed for Ingvar too. I had no idea whether he wanted to marry me or not, but I had to find out.

‘We’ve noticed how close you’ve become,’ said my father quickly, ‘and we thought it would further the happiness of you both.’

‘Bjorn has promised a most generous dowry, Leif,’ said Thrang.

‘Sigrun, there is no greater blessing than a happy marriage,’ my father assured me.

‘Absolutely not,’ said Leif loudly, trying to speak over both men’s attempts to persuade us. ‘I love Sigrun, but I love her … as a sister.’ Leif smiled apologetically over at me. ‘I think you’ll find she regards me the same way.’

I nodded. ‘Yes, that’s right,’ I agreed. ‘Leif is like a brother to me.’

I knew I should tell them that both of us were in love with someone else, but I blushed to mention Ingvar to my father in case I had mistaken his feelings and intentions towards me. And I knew Thrang would be furious at the merest hint of Leola’s name.

Thrang raised his hands for silence. ‘There’s no need to say anything now,’ he said. ‘All we ask is that you both consider it. Such warm liking is a very sound basis for a marriage. That’s how I married in the end. I was very happy, and missed my wife sorely when she died. So please, just think about it.’

Both Leif and I were silent, avoiding each other’s eye. I could feel his anger with his father seething beneath his calm exterior. For myself, I was deeply embarrassed. To think that one’s father should make such plans, discuss such important matters behind one’s back. I knew it was often done, but I hadn’t expected it. Now things would be so uncomfortable between Leif and me, just when we had established such an easy friendship.

Suddenly, something disturbed my thoughts. Some intrusive emotion. It wasn’t in the house, it was just outside.

‘Someone’s here,’ I said abruptly, lifting my head to listen. ‘They’re angry.’

‘What?’ asked my father confused. ‘What do you mean, Sigrun?’

Everyone was staring at me. My tiredness momentarily forgotten, I was suddenly afraid for my father. Had danger pursued him to Jorvik? Instinctively, I moved closer to him and took his arm.

Before anyone else could speak, there was a thunderous hammering at the front door upstairs. We all looked at each other. There was a short silence and then the banging started again.

‘I’ll answer it,’ said Thrang, jumping to his feet. He pulled his sword down from the wall and buckled it to his belt. ‘Best to be prepared,’ he said.

My father fetched his sword Foe Biter and held it in his hand as we stood in watchful silence. Thrang disappeared up the stairs, and we strained to hear the voices as he opened the door. I wanted to tell my father to hide, to run away, but we all stood frozen.