Over the sea and down the rivers

[Alvlin]

CW and TW : This chapter contains explicit descriptions of domestic abuse and PTSD from the victim's perspective.

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"Get up."

Kildevi lay on her side in the undergrowth when Aslaug's foot hit her midriff, pushing the air out of her again. The older woman stood over her, staring down with a smirk.

"This isn't enough? Am I going too fucking soft on you, sweetheart, stakes too low for you?"

Kildevi staggered to her feet, still gasping from the kick. Something warm ran down her lower leg, probably blood from the stone that had hit her knee as she struck ground. Behind her, the lowest drop of the Eyfor roared, a low rumble, indifferent in its rage.

"You done taking a nap? Next time you just fold over, I'll shove my hand up your cunt and wear you like a fucking puppet."

Aslaug circled her, knees bent, stance low. Maybe, if she could only shift a bit to the left, she could … yes! Kildevi got hold of the bag Aslaug had dropped and swung it full force against her head, but instead of an impact, she felt a tug as her opponent grabbed the leather satchel and pulled.

As Kildevi stumbled forward, Aslaug caught her and locked her elbows to her sides by wrapping both arms around her and pressing them down with her own. On the backs of her hips, she felt fingers pinch the layers of wool and linen and start to bunch them upwards.

Kildevi hadn't really taken the threat seriously. Now, pressed up against Aslaug's body with a knee pushed in between her own, back hem rising for every pinch, she suddenly wasn't so sure. Aslaug's face was just a hands-width away, too close to get any force behind a headbutt. She looked mocking, but the smirk was now a leer, the breath definitely heavy. Panic started to well up, heart beating on her eardrums from the inside.

But she was frozen in place.

"That's the look. That's the insight I'm looking for. And you know… whatever the fuck I do to you, they won't even call it rape unless I grow a cock." Aslaug took a deep breath through that aquiline nose, drawing in the scent of fear in fresh sweat. When she spoke, the voice was husky and raw. "I'm fucking tempted, you know that?"

Suddenly, she gave Kildevi a slap on the hip and pushed her away.

"But not today. I don't do that shit unless I'm primed and bloodied. But that thing you felt now, that's what you gotta fight with. That's your stake, right there. You realised it too late, and that's why you gotta act before you're pinned. Once you freeze, you're fucked."

"Nice one with the bag", she added. "But it would have worked better with a young'un who wasn't prepared."



The portage was the worst test of strength Kildevi had seen thus far along their journey. The Lovat had been treacherous, and punting the boats upstream through the lower Dnipro rapids both dangerous and demanding, but rolling what may well be a hundred boats uphill was back breaking labour, and the sheer length of the convoy meant that the front of it was half a morning up the path before the last boat was even on its rollers.

But this time, they didn't have to do it alone. A party of thralls and warriors met with them below the first terrace of the rapid, and with them the pace picked up to almost that of their descent a few months before.

She had tried to find clothes that would fade into the background in case she had to hide again, but not even Eskil thought it was a good idea for her to walk around in just a headscarf and an unbleached shift among this many strangers.

"And you stay where I can see you," he'd said as they began their ascent. "Last time, every single one of the men knew you by sight. Now, I don't know if even half would recognise you without your regalia, and apart from the settlers and a few in the Druzhina, no one has brought a woman with them. Someone may get ideas if it looks like a thrall is walking around unguarded, so I want you fully dressed, and within line of sight."

His voice was harsh, stern, like last time they'd been here and she had walked off to talk to Audvard. Kildevi didn't argue. The old knowledge of her own helplessness hung like a weight around her neck, the light flutter in her chest a constant companion as she plodded uphill in pace with the boats.

After the first break at noon, Audvard walked up to do her company, and when he took over Thogard's place at the rollers, the housecarl did the same. Neither of them were sparkling conversationalists, but that mattered less than the comfort of walking with someone who had seen that she was alone, and thought that they ought to do something about that. She remembered all too well the loneliness of being apart that had followed her down after the ambush, separated from her shipmates by shame and fear and defiance.

Ahead of them, Andronikos had been allowed to ride on Ingjald's boat as it was being rolled. As long as he was in there, at least no one had to keep track of where he was, and, as Ingjald himself noted, giggles and shouts were kinder on the ear than displeased utterances of the same magnitude.

"Aslaug went hard on you yesterday?" Thore asked when it was his turn to join her.

Kildevi grimaced.

"No worse than usual, but I hit my knee at one point, and it has started to ache from all this walking."

Thore nodded.

"We could get you on one of the wagons if you want to? With the thralls we borrowed from the Rus, we can even spare a man to go with you if Eskil doesn't want you to go alone. Audvard's knee could probably need a rest. He'd never ask for it unless the pain got bad, and by then the damage would be done. But if we ask him to accompany you… "

"...and if you tell me it's for Audvard's sake…"

"Yes, we can get both your knees rested with no pride lost!"

"You're right, it's too good to pass up."


She and Audvard had barely sat down on one of the cargo wagons, when one of the scions came by to invite them onto a more comfortable coach.

"This is Ormgeir's idea, isn't it?" Kildevi asked him, without even trying to hide her mistrust.

"It's his carriage, but it was Glebu who saw you here and suggested you should have a more fitting mode of travel."

"Very well, then me and my companion will come with you."

The scion hesitated, but didn't stop her as she signalled to Audvard to help her down and join them. As they walked up the length of the convoy, Kildevi leant closer to her shipmate.

"What would you say if I asked you to become my man?"

Audvard's bushy eyebrows furrowed.

"What d'you mean? I'll always have yer back if that's what yer askin'."

Kildevi shook her head.

"No, that is not what I mean. I'm asking you to become my heiðcarl. Not Eskil's, not Asgaut's, mine. Like Thogard and Eirik is for Eskil and his father, with the important difference that I have no land to offer for tenancy. Instead, I'd offer you a part of every tribute."

Audvard was silent.

"You don't have to give your answer now, but please, think about it! You would be oathbound, but you have my word in return that I will never keep you against your will. If you want to leave my service, I will release you."

"I'm not as young as I once was, y'know. And m'knee is still in a bad way sometimes. You want a better man."

Kildevi shook her head emphatically.

"I can't find a better man. And you're not even close to old! You're what? Three times ten and five more?"

"Three-times-ten an'three, but I feel old. I ponder th'world and it leans heav'ly on me."

"And that's what I want. I don't want a mindless youngling. I need someone who can see what needs to be done and do it, while still remaining true to himself and all those around him. I can't imagine anyone who fits that better than you."

"I am deeply honoured, Lady Kildvé. I'll need some time t'think, and I've promised m'self away in Kyiv, but I'll happily be yours til we get home."

Kildevi smiled, relieved. The decision to ask him had not been made in the moment, even though she had planned to wait until they left Kyiv after the winter.

"Thank you, Audvard. We are about to step into the carriage of someone I don't trust further than I can throw him, and it feels good to have someone with me whom I trust completely. And," she added in jest, "if you ever want to compose a poem about our travels, his name is one you might need to remember."


The carriage was a richly decorated open wagon with benches, a canvas roof suspended above. As Kildevi had suspected, Ormgeir was there. Glebu sat across from him, and the men were speaking in Slavic, but when they saw the scion return with her, they seamlessly shifted to Norse.

"Ah, Seeress, you came! Glebu told me he had invited you, so I thought I'd take the chance to sit down for a while myself."

Kildevi graciously accepted the mug of watered wine offered and sat down opposite him, next to Glebu, who nervously shifted to the side to give her room. Audvard awkwardly followed and sat down, trying to fade into the background. Ormgeir took no note of him.

"We were just discussing Glebu's future prospects. You see, he is engaged, but the bride is too young to marry in a few years yet. He feels he needs a wife quite before that, while I would argue that a man of nineteen only profits from the wait. What's your opinion?"

Kildevi looked between them. Glebu was throwing her curious glances, but he also very carefully avoided looking straight at her face. Hair a deep brown and skin pale in spite of a sunburn, he had about the same colouring as Vibjorn Skytja. Like him, he was of average height and slender build, but the beard was still patchy and thin, and he had wisely settled for a short stubble rather than trying to grow it out in full. Nineteen, they said he was? He wasn't well grown for his age, her guess would have been at least two years younger.

"I suppose that depends on why a man that young feels that he needs a wife? If he simply loathes returning to an empty bed each night, there are other arrangements for that. If it is about a companion for mutual help and support, that is something else. And if it is about a household that needs to be managed… I am sorry, but a girl so young you are waiting for her to grow up will simply not be very good for quite some time. Being a matron for a household is an art in every way as complicated as war or trade. Many men just don't notice, because you never do it."

Ormgeir observed her as she spoke, listening closely.

"But how does one know how to make the comparison? What do you know of trade and war?"

"More than most women, since I have observed it for our entire journey. I have also spent four years with one of the best matrons I have ever had the pleasure of watching work, and after those four years, I still could not do what she does half as well as her."

"So what would you say is the difference, between a decent matron and an excellent one?"

Kildevi considered it for a moment. This was one of those subjects she had thought about quite a lot in regard to herself and Alfrida, but no one had ever shown any interest in hearing her opinion.

"A decent matron makes sure everything is running. There is food on the table, no one is starving in spring, everyone is clothed to their standing and the mishaps and miscalculations that always happen are solved in some way, albeit not always making perfect use of every resource available. An excellent matron, on the other hand…"

She paused, and turned her gaze straight into Ormgeir's.

"Everything simply works. She sees that something is needed well before it is and prepares for it ahead of time, she knows the name of every thrall and worker and how to best make use of each of them. She keeps track of every little detail, what is running low in the pantries, which guests are likely to visit, which clothes will be needed, which skills cultivated in the children, which crops be sown, which meals be made to make sure nothing spoils in the pantry while everyone is well fed and happy, which clothes be sewn, what should be woven in the house and what should be traded, and I can't really finish the list of tasks done out of your sight because there is always more and yet an excellent matron just makes it work so you never notice if ever there is a miscalculation somewhere. And you will never find a girl who managed to pick up all that through childhood play."

He leant back, eyebrows raised.

"It sounds like I should appreciate my second wife more."

"If she is the one running things, you probably should. My guess is that you aren't home much."

Confirming this with a smile, he refilled her mug.

"My homelife has lost its spark since my first wife died. She kept it interesting."

"So your first match was one of the good ones?"

Ormgeir laughed, and took a sip from his glass.

"Oh no, she plotted to kill me for fifteen years. Kept me on my toes."

Kildevi lost her tongue for a moment.

"Oh."

"My second, who has seniority now, does her duty in keeping the reins on everything, and she does it like you described, seamlessly. I have never had reason to consider whatever it is she is doing. But she only does that. She has no interest in me at all, good or bad."

He leant forward, like they were friends sharing confidences.

"The rest are hens, trying hard to keep me happy, buttering up like they didn't have a trace of pride between them. But they keep each other occupied in their pecking games, so no harm done."

Kildevi cocked her head, giving him a critical eye.

"And you have no part in shaping your household? You're helplessly drowning in unwanted flattery without any way to quell the flow?"

He chuckled, eyes gleaming above the long nose as he tilted his head down to look up at her.

"That's what I mean, no one says those things to me since Kyllike died. You see that you have a role to play here." He shrugged and leant back in his seat again. "The youngest is slightly better than the other two. I've been thinking about taking her to Kyiv, to see if she can grow a spine before she's spoiled by the others."

"But," he added after a short pause, "I think we have drifted away from the subject of Glebu's marriage. Like the Volkhva said, you should simply take a concubine while you wait. Easier to handle in so many ways, and you can take on the responsibility that is a wife in due time."

"No. If someone is my wife in every other sense, she should be so in name too."

It was the first time Glebu himself had said a word since she entered the carriage. Ormgeir looked at him with what was best described as condescending amusement.

"Young men and principles. They either have too much or too little of them."

Kildevi glanced at Glebu, the son of an unmarried man and his lifelong concubine.

"It sounds to me like he has the perfect amount of principles."



When the convoy finally made camp, Kildevi returned to an unhappy Eskil.

"This is not a reasonable reaction to me changing wagons," she concluded.

"But it's not just this time." He replied, biting down on every sentence. "You have a history. Of disappearing. Without a trace. In enemy land. Without telling me. This, this was not the same as last time, but… "

He shook his head and looked away.

"How hard could it possibly be to send word, so I don't have to run around half of the convoy to find out where you are?"

"I didn't think it was that important!" She protested. "We are many long hundreds and you knew I had taken Audvard to find a wagon who had room for us. You didn't know which one we were on anyway, so what could possibly be the difference?!"

Eskil took a deep breath and let it seep out through his clenched teeth.

"First of all, which part of the convoy to look for you. I know where our wagons are. They are not in the same place as the Kniaz's cargo. Second, who you were with. Third, if the men manning the reins were in any way known to me. You understand these things. Don't play stupid."

"I'm not playing stupid. I'm simply tired of how you go through the roof every time you don't know exactly what I do and with whom for a moment."

"And I'm tired of how I can't trust a single word you say about where you will be and with whom, because if you don't straight out plan to go behind my back, you can also just have a change of heart at any given moment."

"So stop pretending I'm a child and trust me to make those calls!"

"I will. When you stop acting like one and I can trust the calls you make to be sensible."

"Then maybe you shouldn't expect a woman in the evenings, I'm either a child or I'm not."

Shaking his head, he gave her a disdainful look, equal parts tired and disgruntled.

"That makes no sense, but you know what? I won't. Maybe that will be enough incentive for you to start using your head."


Kildevi woke from her first sleep, still angry. Eskil had not only kept his word, he had sarcastically tucked her in after feigning surprise that she wanted to sleep there, and not with Deva and Andronikos. It wasn't usually a problem for her that she slept in two shifts and he in one, but tonight the very restfulness on his face annoyed her. Thus, she spitefully started to poke him in the side with a sharp finger to wake him up. Because misery loves company.

"I thought of something."

"Mhm."

He half turned, squinting at her in the dark.

"Children can't have heiðcarls either, and I have Audvard oathbound until we get home. How are you gonna solve that?"

Eskil blinked. She could see his mind trying to process what he just heard.

"Wh-what?"

"Yes. I finally asked Audvard if he wanted to be in my service, and he said yes for the reminder of the journey, except for the time you've already pissed him into your warband."

"That's… that's great! When? Why?"

"On the way to Ormgeir's wagon. I felt I should bring my own man with me."

"What a surprisingly mature decision! For you - that's almost like taking responsibility for yourself. Well done! Maybe I can rest in the knowledge that you're capable of thinking after all."

He sounded fully awake now. Kildevi realised she had liked him better when he slept.

"Are you already that desperate? Because even if you don't want Deva, I'm sure there is someone in the Druzhina willing to lend you a woman if you ask nicely."

It took him a few moments to grasp what she referred to, then the still sleepy face twisted in annoyance.

"No. Another thing adults don't do is break principles simply because they feel like it."

"I don't break principles."

"That's because you don't have any."

Kildevi didn't reply. Instead she turned her back to him and pretended to go back to sleep.

It took a long while, but she found comfort in hearing that he too was awake the whole time.



That day Kildevi felt something brewing in the back of her mind, a tension or sense of danger that slowly grew. It took her until noon to realise they were getting closer and closer to where they had raised stones in memory of their fallen. Soon every tree was steeped in memory. Not always of the kind that allowed her to look back, more the kind that made her see the surrounding forest in the same hue of light, tinting every stone in the shadows of before.

Eskil seemed to feel it too, or maybe he simply mirrored her own mood, because he was short spoken and iron handed, yet constantly touched her whenever he had the chance, as if to make sure she was really there. It was hard to handle, that rift between the harshness of his voice and the tenderness of his hands, while in spite of the daylight the world around her grew ever darker.

But there was no sign of the Pecheneg, and when they made camp that evening, she could see both the slope where their dead lay buried and the path where she had hid beneath their ship that whole painful afternoon. By chance, this too was a third night. None of them cared as much anymore, now that there were other things to do in between, but for some reason she still kept track, as if the counting itself was a spell to ward off anything growing inside her.

Maybe it was. If so, it seemed to work.



They sat outside their tent again, the tent she had raised alone on his orders. Like then, she said nothing, staring away from the fire, into the shadows.

"I know," he said slowly, "that we often like to pretend that I don't have authority over you. But I have. And that authority is not debatable. Do you understand?"

She didn't reply. His knuckles whitened.

"Do. You. Understand."

She felt herself nod, still not looking at him.

"Good. I need to make sure that what happened today will not happen again. From here on, you will follow my instructions, in every detail, with no childish whims, when I tell you to."

"Or?"

He stared at her. His jaw was so tense the scar shifted through his silence. When he spoke next he didn't raise his voice, just bit down on every word with chilling fury.

"Are you a child? Do you need consequences to stop testing limits? Because I once promised to never strike you, but… if you don't honour your duty to me, I have no reason to honour any promises I've made to you."

His right-hand wrist was still stained with blood, as was the tunic sleeve and the lower half of his face.

He rose, and as her heart began to race, she instinctively crawled backwards, away from him. Hands clenched, he walked after her until she was trapped against the tent, his body a towering black outline against the light of the fire.

"You're not going anywhere."

The silhouette loosened something from the belt, weighed it in his hand before he swung down. As the first strike landed on her shoulder she knew it was the belt bag, soft leather heavy with coins and dice, and she put her arms around her head to shield it.

Compared to the hot rage of his brother, Eskil was cold, every movement measured and exact, every strike hitting hard at a pace too unpredictable to prepare for, the blunt pain nauseating through her carefully kept silence. When finally she heard him drop the pouch to the ground, she lowered her bruised arms and dared to glance up.

His face was still in shadow, but she saw him reach down before he grabbed her arm to drag her to her feet and twist it up her back. Her shoulder screamed in pain. Staring at her face, he kept the pressure until she couldn't hold back anymore, sobs breaking through her breath.

"You can scream. You're mine. No one will come. No one will care."

Arms pressed up between her shoulder blades, her numb fear rose to panic as he led her away from the tent and the camp, down the slope to the river, where whitewater screamed in black streams between the rising boulders of the Eyfor.

"Please, not the river! Eskil please, it's me, you don't want to do this, this isn't you, I know you're angry, but …"

The braid wrapped around his hand, he pushed her face down beneath the surface.


She woke screaming, coughing, surprised to find that she could breathe, that no water blocked the flow of air down to her lungs.

Even in the waking world, his hands were on her, the weight of his body pressed to her side. Like in the dream, when he had used his weight to anchor her to the riverside in an echo of his brother, pushed her head down into the streams and beat it against the grovel of the riverbed until there was no way to separate the pain, and panic, and intrusion, not knowing if he planned to stop before the kill.

She could not yet separate waking from memory from dream.

His voice was a murmur in her ear, whispering threats disguised as calming nothings.

"Shhh ástin, it was just a dream, whatever it was, it was a dream, I'm here, I'm here, no one else, just me."

Panicked, she scrambled backwards, into the corner. Blanket wrapped around her as a shield, she stared at his face. There was something wrong. The blood was gone.

Realities ground against each other in her mind, a discord more terrifying than if the worst of them had stood alone.

He sat where she had left him, looking handfallen. Then he spoke again, voice low - but not a whisper.

"Yesterday we ate porridge, apple and rye, pieces of dried pork. Thorven dropped the butter. Do you remember what you said?"

No. Her mind searched for something, past the slowdown of time, past the violent silence. There had been a pale daylight, fading towards twilight.

"'Now I understand why Alfrida allow no men in the pantry.'"

He nodded, but made no sign to move closer.

"Who else was there?"

"I… I don't know."

"Was I there?"

Yes. Yes, he had been. A strange memory, another discordant note hammering against the walls of her haven.

"Where did I sit?"

"Here, outside. By the fire."

"What did I do?"

"You twisted my arm and told me to scream."

He froze for a moment. She could see his face adjust back to calm and grounded.

"When we ate together, yesterday. The porridge. I had my bowl on the ground next to me, not in front. Why?"

Yes. Why?

"Because I sat there."

"Why did you sit there?"

She had chosen to. Why?

Things were straining now, a pressure on her chest, as real as ever a weight would be.

"Because it was cold. When it's cold, I sit under your cloak."

He nodded.

"What more do you remember from yesterday?"

There was something there, in the shadows of her mind. A small creature, grown to a beast.

"I refused you."

He was silent for a moment, then he said, "no, you didn't. I kissed you to see if you responded, when you didn't, I backed off."

Too many realities battled for space. A small part of her wanted back into the dream. It was simple. Clear cut. Not like this confusion of not being.

Slowly, he stretched out his arm and put his hand on the ground midway between them.

"I am going to move closer. Then I am going to take your hand. Nothing else. Just take your hand. If you pull away, I won't follow. Nod if you understand."

Slowly, she nodded, and when she let go of the blanket to let him take her hand she realised she was shaking, heart galloping, forehead damp with cold sweat. The touch spread like a calm up through her arm, the panic from the dream now disentangled from the man in front of her. Beyond tired, she slumped forward, her head on his shoulder. Slowly, he put his free arm around her.

For a while, they just sat there, before he broke the silence.

"What did you dream?"

"We were back. At the night of the ambush."

She felt him nod.

"What happened?"

"You didn't walk away."

Now, she was grounded enough to hear his hesitation echoing through the silence, but she too was struggling for words and couldn't help him.

"What did I do?"

"You were the worst sides I've seen in you, acting on my worst memories of your brother, before you drowned me in the cold rage of the Eyfor."

"You know, I have promised to…"

"You declared each promise null and void before you broke them, because through it all, you were still you."

"Did I break them both?"

"Yes."

He paused, then his hand stroked her shoulder.

"It wasn't in the waking world, but I am still so very sorry."


Dawn was approaching and none of them returned to sleep that night. Instead, Kildevi started up breakfast early, before Deva or the first men had come out from their tents to greet the morning. Thore did a double take, then huffed in surprise.

"You? First up to make the fire?"

Kildevi shrugged.

"Bad dreams, too real to forget. I think it's the Eyfor pushing against my mind."

"I have no idea of what that means except it sounds bad. Do you need something?"

Kildevi thought about it for a moment.

"I think it would help if nothing else challenged me. So if you could try and keep everything worrying off my mind, I would be grateful. No Ormgeir, no Aslaug, no talk of dangers that aren't easily overcome, or telling of sad and violent stories."

He looked at her and nodded.

"Consider it done."


Thore kept his word. Though they reached the top of the Eyfor at noon, it was well into the afternoon before all of the convoy was gathered. She noticed that Aslaug came sauntering into their campsite, but also that Thore met up with her and after a short conversation they both drifted off towards her own campfire.


"Eskil?"

"Mm?"

"Are you still keeping away because of the fight?"

He was silent for a moment, but when he replied she heard it was through a smile.

"No. I had almost forgotten about that."

"Then why?"

"Because your memory knows me as one who broke your trust and almost killed you last night."

"But it was a dream. It wasn't real."

"Real enough."

It had felt real. Now, it was somehow at once raw and strangely distant.

"Can you hold me?"

She felt him come closer, then his arms nestled in around her beneath the blankets, hand softly cupping her left breast. She knew he read her heartbeats through his wrist.

"This morning… how did you know?"

"I didn't know that much."

"But… you seemed to know where I was. What to do. How did you know what to say?"

"I've done it before. I've been there before."

From his tone, she knew that she wouldn't get more, but then and there, she didn't need to. Safe in the embrace, she drifted into sleep.

 

[Alvlin]

They arrived in a grey Kyiv, wet under a steady drizzle that had kept on since morning. The overcast skies made it hard to know the time of day, but when their turn came to disembark, Kildevi thought it was sometime mid-afternoon. A crowd had gathered in spite of the rain, and the road from Podil up towards Kyiv Hill was packed with both wagons and people. When they had almost reached the palisade, Kildevi heard a voice boom from the left.

"But there you are! Both of you, back in one piece, looking splendid as ever!"

She turned to see Bjarni and Ina, together with a woman she assumed was Bjarni's wife, dark blonde hair showing beneath a woad blue headscarf crowned by a headband. Eskil broke free from the crowded road to meet his friend with open arms, laughing as he went. Kildevi met Ina's gaze, and when she saw her friend struggle to keep a straight face, it was hard to keep the giggle down.

"Let me look at you, son, is that silk on that coat? Someone has been drinking with the Rus, I see!"

That did it. Ina started laughing, and when she broke, so did Kildevi.

The unknown woman hissed something in Slavic. She had clearly turned to Ina, not to her, but Kildevi still managed to get her face under control again. She had forgotten there was a complicated relationship here to take heed of.

"Ina, aren't you going to introduce us?"

"Yes, yes, of course. This is Kildevi, wife of Eskil, daughter of a chieftain back in the homelands. She is also an all-knowing sejðwife - that is a volkhva, if you don't know."

No one could miss how Ina's voice changed as she turned back to Kildevi.

"And this is Beleka, father's second wife. She was away when you were here last time, but now she's back again for a while."

Uneasy about the whole exchange, Kildevi smiled as warmly as she could, but at the mention of what she was, Beleka's eyes had lowered. Kildevi leaned closer with what she hoped was an easy friendliness.

"Please, don't worry. I would never be a threat to anyone in this household, and if we are to live together for the winter, I want you to be able to relax with me."

Beleka looked up again, but she still didn't meet her eyes.

"Of course, Volkhva. You are our guest, and as our guest you are welcome."

Her Norse was broken and clearly she hadn't used it in a long while, but it was fully understandable. It would make talking harder, but not in any way impossible.


Inside the vestibule, they were met by the two older children, followed by a toddler only barely on her feet who stubbornly tried to keep pace. Majka didn't have the time or interest for greetings, but Yaroslav skidded to a halt when he saw Eskil and eagerly hung around to get a word in. When Eskil saw them, he stopped mid-sentence and turned to Bjarni.

"Yes, that reminds me. We have my son with us." He turned to wave Andronikos forward. "He's only two, and what little he does speak is Greek. I hope that won't be a problem."

"I am sure it is not! You have a son, what wonderful news! And such a strong, fair lad, just like his father! Congratulations, young man!"

Ina glanced at her.

"How do you feel about this?" she mouthed.

Kildevi smiled and stroked some hair away from the boy's face where he stood, pressed into her skirts, overwhelmed by all the new faces.

"Tell you later," she mouthed back.


And she did. Beleka excused herself quite early, but the rest of them sat out in the main room and talked late into the evening. Ina boggled when she told her about the illicit visits into Miklagard, was a supportive friend about her feelings of inadequacy compared to Andronikos' mother, and was properly impressed by the company they had kept on the way back. Kildevi didn't mention anything about bathhouses, and only briefly mentioned Ormgeir's name. Both felt like subjects Eskil might take issue with if they spread among his peers.

When finally Ina decided it was time for her to go to bed, they found Andronikos asleep under the table.

"Where does he usually sleep?" Ina asked.

"When we've made camp, he's slept with the thrall who looks after him, but it doesn't feel right to send him to the house thralls now that we're finally in a real house." Kildevi grimaced. "But I don't think Eskil would be thrilled about having him between us the few nights left before the princely court leaves Kyiv."

Ina shrugged.

"I'll take him, then. There are already two children sleeping in my bed, one more won't make much of a difference."


The men went out after breakfast, and Kildevi started to unpack their luggage to see how much of their clothes needed mending or cleaning or both. It was most of it. The laundry left to the house thralls, she sat down on the guest bed with the heap that needed her attention before Eskil would leave in two days.

She had just started on his red trousers when she heard someone clearing their throat. She looked up. Ina was standing in the doorway, looking hesitant.

"Do you have a moment? I'll help you with the mending."

"Of course!"

"I don't think I'm supposed to talk to you about this, but I need to talk to someone and I can't think of anyone else."

"I am happy to listen, please, come closer!"

Still hesitant, Ina came over and sat down on the bed with her. Kildevi looked at the young woman she had considered her friend ever since their first meeting. Ina looked strained, distraught even. Whatever could it be that had her this rattled?

"I don't… I don't even know where to start. I have come to like talking to you very much, and maybe that will change now, I don't know."

She sighed and turned her gaze upwards.

"Oh please Ina, out with it. I am less easily shocked than you think. Are you in…. trouble?"

"Trouble?"

"You know… have you gotten in trouble with some man?"

Ina stared at her for a shocked moment.

"No! I would never do that to my family."

"So… whatever could it be that has you this torn up?"

But Ina still hesitated.

"This morning, father talked to me about…"

Her voice trailed off.

"About?"

Ina swallowed, her eyes now glued to the floor in front of her feet.

"He told me to make efforts to make your husband notice me."

Kildevi felt her own eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Oh. I see."

"And I don't know what to do. First of all, I really appreciate talking to you, and I don't want to be disloyal to a friend by clamouring for her husband's attention, but I can even less be disloyal to my family. And second… I don't even see a way to do what father asks of me."

Kildevi took a long look at her friend. She was young, but far from a child. Very fetching, in a well rounded way, but by the measure of mortal women, not legends. She was also obviously not playing any power games, unless this was all a feint, and Kildevi was willing to bet her best headdress that it wasn't.

Quickly, she came to a decision.

"First of all, I would do more to show off that thick hair of yours. That is the first thing he'll notice, believe me, so wrap those braids with ribbons and let them brush against him when you fill his cup. He is also quite vain and used to being approached by women, and I think being bold and flirtatious would work better than shy innocence."

She hesitated.

"Hm, but then again that might make him feel he needs to pointedly dismiss you for my sake. Maybe it's best to just be charming and familiar, I think that is your strong suit anyway. Don't be afraid of banter. As long as he's not in a bad mood, he can take a joke."

Ina's jaw had dropped.

"You… you are giving me advice?"

She looked so disbelieving Kildevi felt sorry for her.

"Look, Ina. I really like you. The feelings of friendship are mutual. And you are very good at what you do, this house is one of the most well organised I've ever seen from within. I also don't think you'll try to get rid of me."

She paused.

"I know that I will not be the only woman in his household forever, and instead of fighting it, tooth and claw, I see it as an opportunity for both him and me. One day, he will have a whole household someone has to run. By the time he inherits his odal lands, it will probably be closer to a chieftain's hall than an odal farm, and someone will have to oversee it, run it, be its matron in every practical sense."

"As his first wife, that would be you," Ina cut in. "I would not be a threat to that position. I was second to my sister for years, so I'm used to it."

"But you would be the matron, not me. My fate and talents lie elsewhere, and I have hoped for a while now that he would find someone else to shoulder that burden so I am not bound to a place and can do what I was born to do, without having to leave him behind."

She tilted her head with a smile.

"And I mean… he is younger than he could have been, reasonably exciting, and won't be home a lot of the time, so he would fulfil what you wished for in a husband on our first meeting. Do you like him?"

Ina still looked dumbfounded.

"I … I don't know, I've hardly spoken to him. He's behaving nicely and seems kind to you?"

"But would you mind taking him into your bed every now and then?"

The younger woman looked slightly cautious by now.

"He is a handsome man. He also seems quite committed to you."

Kildevi sighed.

"Yes, but that was not what I asked. I asked if the thought of finding him naked in your bed is pleasing, nauseating or just another household chore. Because two of those are possible to live with without being miserable, but the third one isn't."

"I have carefully not thought about that."

"If you had to be careful about it, I don't think that will be a problem."


Kildevi was relieved to see that Ina didn't go blatantly flirting at once. Instead, she was just a bit more sociable with him than usual at the evening meal, sending warm smiles his way, putting her hand on his shoulder when she asked if she should bring out more wine. It was all very innocuous, easily explained away as mere familiarity.

But Kildevi noticed it took about half the meal for her to not hesitate before she spoke or touched him. Poor Ina! She usually seemed quite confident, but now the nervousness was visible if you looked for it. When finally the food was eaten and everyone plied with wine or beer by preference, Kildevi managed to pull her aside.

"You know, we never talked about what you want. Do you want this?"

Ina glanced around, cautiously biting her lip.

"I… I think so? This morning, I thought it would cost me our friendship, and then you convinced me it wouldn't, but I haven't had time to think far beyond that."

Overcome by a sisterly tenderness, Kildevi took her hand and met her eyes. Right now, they were big, brown pools of uncertainty and confusion.

"Trust me, it will not. But if you want me to, I could probably discourage him. It would be a pity, but you seem so uncomfortable about the whole thing."

"I'm not uncomfortable about that. I'm uncomfortable about… you know… this whole trying to make him want me thing. Father's last match was an old man with attractive titles and coffers, who looked at me as if I was a honey-dipped apple without me having to do a thing. This time he's a man in his prime, who looks like he's the one dipped in honey and already has a young pretty wife he doesn't seem bored with. What am I supposed to do? Throw a log in his head?"

"Don't do that. I've already nursed him through one concussion, not even he managed to make it pretty."

Ina chortled. She started to look like herself again.

"But I don't want to compete with you. Not even if I could."

"I know, and I appreciate it. But no one in their right mind would see us as women competing for the same spot. I mean… even if you only use your eyes to see, I'm blonde and thin, you're dark and curvy. Add to that how I ponder the secrets of fate, while you roll up your sleeves and get things done, and any fool could see how well we complement each other."

"You make it sound like he should consider himself lucky?"

"On second thought, I don't think he deserves us together. Let's call the whole thing off!"

By now, Ina was laughing.

"Thank you. He's less intimidating now."


The more Kildevi thought about it, the more she realised the usual approach of making a man look twice and then waiting for him to ask the father simply would not work. It wasn't a matter of his fancy being impossible to tickle, but rather that when faced with all of those principles he had about putting her first in front of other women, it simply wouldn't matter. He also wouldn't seriously ponder the idea of making ties by marriage, unless someone pointed him in that direction. Worst case, he would see Ina in a bad light for being a disloyal friend.

As usual, the insight struck late at night when they were cuddled up to sleep. No. She would have to interfere.

"Ástin mín?"

"Mm?"

"What do you think about Ina?"

The relaxed sleepiness on his face disappeared in a heartbeat and was replaced with cautiously narrowed eyes.

"I haven't thought much about her to be honest. Why?"

"I think she's quite comely. Gorgeous hair, don't you think?"

"Sure, she's fine. What is this about?"

"So, a little bird told me that your old friend has tasked his daughter with getting your attention, and the little bird was very surprised to find me favourable."

His face had now gone from cautious to outright suspicious.

"Are you trying to convince me to take Ina as my second wife?"

"Well, yes."

He was silent for a moment, and when he finally spoke the voice was low and filled with doubt.

"I thought things were good?"

"They are!"

"So, why are you trying to send me into the arms of Bjarni's daughter?"

Kildevi pushed herself up on her elbow.

"Because, I don't want this to be the last time I go with you! And if I am to follow you out on your travels, you will need a wife at home to fill the function as the matron of your household. I am not trying to send you off into the arms of someone else, I am willing to share you with someone at home, so that I don't have to part with you whenever you are going somewhere."

"That was a… different way of looking at it."

She shrugged.

"Not that different, I am certainly not the first woman to have that idea. Do you really think Jorunn could be Frodes treasurer if they didn't have Unna back home? There are more reasons for a man to have wives, or even concubines, than a choice of where to go at night."

"... and you consider it your duty to find that second wife for me?"

He sounded amused now, and Kildevi felt a quip form on her tongue, but reined it in. This time, she refused to be pulled off track by banter.

"Not necessarily, but a man benefits if his women get along. And it is not in my interest if you find some mindless young thing who won't further our house at all, or who tries to undermine me."

He still looked hesitant, but the look of caution and reluctance had disappeared when he realised she wasn't trying to get rid of him.

"I am spoiled by a history of accomplished women, I am not sure I could do right by someone who didn't impress me in some way."

"So, good thing she's already extraordinary. She and her sister did your mother's job together, as children. I don't know if you know how impressive that is."

He seemed to consider that for a moment.

"And what exactly do you expect from me in this arrangement? You know that I can't just bring her home, leave her to mother and then pretend she doesn't exist."

"No. And that would be your loss, by the way, she is kind and funny and easy on the eyes as far as I can tell. I expect you to give her the minimum of what you once grudgingly offered me, to allow her to run your household and show up in her bed at least once a week when we are home. I don't mind if you give her more. My only expectation is to keep my place as the first, both in standing and attention. I will not be replaced and forgotten."

"And you have no fear that could happen?"

"Not really."

He let out a low laugh.

"Once you wished you had my confidence, right now I wish I had yours."

"I will be frank with you, my love. I know that if you lost all interest in me, I could leave. I am not bound to wifehood like most women are. That means it is in your interest to keep me somewhat happy, as long as you want me. If, at some point, you don't anymore, I will take our most gifted daughters and leave."

"That is always harsh to hear."

She shook her head.

"It shouldn't be. The only thing I demand is that you keep treating me the way you have always done, long before you took the word love in your mouth. You should be forced to remember my worth, anything else would be beneath us. And should it ever come to that, you will have plenty of warning beforehand, and the chance for an amicable divorce. I have bound myself to you. Those bonds are not easily unravelled."

She wasn't sure he agreed, but he didn't push it further. Instead, he said, "there is another thing to consider. We both know that the main thing Bjarni wants out of this isn't a bride price. He wants to tie down our routes, and my guess is that he will want our ships to transport his wares, not to mention having a middleman to the markets at home."

"Surely the details of that must be a matter for later negotiations?"

"Yes, but it is still a decision I need to make about where to invest our time and resources. Is the route down to the Greeks one we want to make permanent? I have made the journey twice now, or really just once because my first run was not truly a trading expedition. They are profitable, but long and hazardous. If we were to forge this into something permanent, we would profit from setting up a second house, maybe in Holmgard or Smaleskia, and who would manage it?"

"Wouldn't this be one of those occasions when having too many brothers comes in handy?"

"Of course. Everything can be solved. But do we want to?"

Kildevi sighed.

"I feel that must be your decision. But you have already worked to set up contacts along the way, and nothing forces us to take the waterway between Smaleskia and Ladoga if the issue of Lovat is weighing on you. Sledding would be faster, although the loads are smaller, but with someone like Asbjorn in Holmgard that wouldn't necessarily be a problem."

"It sounds as if you have thought this through very long term, if Asbjorn is who you're thinking about."

Kildevi shook her head.

"No, I am just making this up as we go along, everything I say will have to be properly thought about later. The honest truth is that I really like her, and think of this as an opportunity to get you fully settled in a way that will work in the long run, to the benefit of everyone. And kin in Kyiv would be a great boon."

She sighed, watching him watching her. She didn't want this conversation to be one of loss, but maybe it couldn't be had without it.

"We both wanted to believe that I could be for you what your mother is for your father, but in truth I think we both know that has never been the case. It just took me a while to understand it."

"I have tried not to think about it."

So, he had realised. Of course he had.

"Me too. But it doesn't have to be the end of anything. It will just be… different from what you thought two years ago. And with no curse to hold you back, Isidor is right. It would look frugal of you to keep just one woman when your peers have at least a wife and a concubine, most of them more."

His face was past solemn. It wasn't like him to fall into brooding.

"I know. But father has always been very clear about mother being the sole queen of his kingdom, and he has never let his other women set foot in her realm. Bringing your competition into your own house goes against everything he taught me."

Smiling, Kildevi shook her head and looked down on him.

"And you just assume we would be competing? Because that is not what I think is going to happen. I've seen competing wives, but I have also seen some very cordial working friendships, and that is why I'm putting my nose where I'm sure you think it doesn't belong." She sighed. "Eskil, I am not going anywhere. You wouldn't lose a wife, you'd gain one. And did you really think that you could show me Miklagard, and then I'd be content to stay home to count the apples?"

He grimaced.

"No, not really."

"This wouldn't mean I would be less of your wife, quite the opposite. We would share more of life, not less."

"I know. That's why I haven't said no. But I need time to mourn my image of you as the matron of my house, before I can put it to rest and make other plans."

She nodded, softly stroking a strand of hair down behind his ear.

"I guess I can understand that. But now, at least, you know how to read the breakfast table tomorrow, and to react to her with this conversation in mind. Don't make any obvious moves to dismiss her."

"I'll be kind and ambiguous."

"Thank you."

Eyelids heavy, she laid her head down on his arm again and yawned.

"I think I need to sleep. Goodnight, ástin mín."

Eskil lay quiet for a while, staring at the ceiling. Kildevi squinted up at him.

"Don't you think we should blow out the light?"

"I… I don't think I can sleep now."

---

Endnote: I have made a factual mistake and mixed up the old Norse location names. The recorded name Sýrnes wasn't used about Gnezdovo, outside modern day Smolensk, but about Chernigov. I will go back and edit away all the Syrneses as soon as life allows.
So, when they talk about Gnezdovo in this chapter forward, what they mean is the place called Sýrnes earlier in the story.
Sorry 'bout that!
Update 3/5: Smaleskia, Sýrnes will be renamed Smaleskia. Which is a pity because Sýrnes has such a nice ring to it.

 

[Alvlin]

Eskil had an uneasy feeling of balancing across quicksand. With Kildevi next to him, Bjarni across the table, and Ina "accidentally" brushing against him whenever she leant forward to put something on the table, the whole situation was…

Uncomfortable didn't cover it. He'd been in more relaxing ambushes.

Kildevi also kept giving him encouraging glances, and further down the table his son loudly didn't know how to eat without a fork - because obviously the Roman refinement extended to toddlers. He had never thought he'd be embarrassed if his children refused to stick their fingers in food, but that showed how little he'd known.

Beleka had already exploded and stormed out, and with Ina busy being inviting under the stern gaze of her father, Deva and Alani, one of Bjarni's house thralls, tried to stave off the madness of a 2-year old and a 4-year old winding each other up without a common language between them. He tried to recall how his mother had handled similar situations, but she would just throw them out of the house, and that wasn't the same thing in the middle of a town like Kyiv.

Still, it supported Kildevi's claims of her friend's competence that everything seemed to spiral into chaos the moment Ina was occupied with something else.

If only he survived until midday tomorrow, he'd be safe, leading a unit of assorted killers for hire out to collect tribute in the Kyivan countryside, surrounded by a court of power hungry warlords.

It was a comforting thought.


At the yard where the forces of the Kniaz had started to gather, Eskil saw two familiar figures in the crowd. He had hoped to run into the brothers again here. Hroar had already seen him, and as he sat down from his horse, Hrafn turned as well.

"Eskil!"

Hrafn laughed and they embraced, both taking each other in.

"I wondered what you would be doing over the winter, if you'd sit by the fire with the women or if you'd join us to the tribes. I should have known you would show up here."

"I got an offer I couldn't refuse, but this time I'll leave the wife in Kyiv."

Hrafn's brow rose in surprise.

"You will? The court will bring a lot of women along. The prince has all of his consorts and concubines with him, so has most of the Druzhina, and they bring a whole retinue of handmaidens and friends and servants. If you've already dragged her along this far, why leave her now?"

Eskil shook his head, looking around the field to see which banners were raised around them.

"I don't want her here. She can handle herself on a ship or a market square, but I don't want her let loose at court. I'll be too busy to keep an eye on her."

"Court…?"

Suddenly, Eskil realised Hrafn didn't know in what capacity he was there.

"Yes. She would be included in the court. We got to know some important people during our time in Miklagard. If I brought her, it would take certain members of the Druzhina a day or two before she was introduced to the Kniaz's women, and maybe even the man himself. I have enough to think about as it is, if I am to win the loyalty of 240 free northmen."

He didn't mention Ormgeir's name. It felt like something they would be better off not knowing.


It was barely a walk between the palisade and Bjarni's house, so Kildevi wasn't surprised when Eskil returned at midday to eat, eagerly talking about his first morning in the prince's service. There had been oaths sworn, men met, units inspected, and she listened with half an ear until something he said caught her full attention.

"Did you say you met the golden boys?"

"Who?"

"Nothing. I mean, Hrafn and Hroar are in your unit?"

Kildevi could feel her heart race. When they had parted ways with the brothers on Khortytsia island many months ago, she hadn't thought they would run into each other again in the foreseeable future. Yet here they were.

Of course they were. This was Kyiv. She knew they were based here. Yet, she hadn't considered that they were exactly the sort of men Eskil's unit was formed from. She closed her eyes.

"How were they?"

"They seemed well, same as before. They're both looking forward to going out."

"Hroar too?"

Eskil paused in the middle of a movement and looked at her with a frown.

"Why are you asking about Hroar?"

The silence following that question grew more and more uncomfortable for each moment it stretched out.

"Nothing. I just… you know..."

"No, I don't know."

"I shouldn't have asked."

He had started to look suspicious. Really suspicious. She had felt something weigh on his mind ever since this morning, but she'd assumed it had to do with Ina. Maybe it didn't. Maybe it was something else.

"Oh well, at least he's coming with me."

Worry overcome by affront, she turned.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

This time, he was the one who suddenly looked like he'd said something he regretted.

"Nothing. Just thinking out loud."

"Thinking about what, exactly?"

Eskil sighed.

"Thinking about how much safer I feel about leaving your bed empty for two months when I have Hroar, and Ormgeir, and Helgi where I can see them."

Handfallen, she just stared at him for a moment.

"Did you just accuse me of being so licentious you're afraid I'd take three random lovers the moment you're out the door?!"

"Random? There was nothing random about those names. Helgi is exactly the kind of slightly weird figure you are drawn to like a hen to corn, you've always preferred Hroar over Hrafn, and I don't think Ormgeir needs any further explanation."

"Where is this coming from? Are you saying I'm so deeply untrustworthy?"

"No. I…"

He sighed.

"I mean… I know you wouldn't aim or plan for it, but I also know how easy it is to get you going, and how rarely you think about anything beforehand, and… I've never had a reason to think about it before because I've never been away more than a week, at most."

"I spent two and a half years a widow and the closest I ever got to a bedmate was hearing your parents."

"And do you remember how that went on our wedding week?"

That ticked her off. Voice rising, she sailed forward on a flood of outrage.

"I wasn't the one who proposed we stay in our bed for the whole week!"

"No, but…"

"And Helgi. Helgi? Really? The man who gives me a nod and then pretends I don't exist until he nods goodbye?"

"So maybe I …"

"If I was going to give in to Ormgeir, don't you think I would have done that by now!?"

"But I've been here to keep you occupied the entire time!"

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a reply, because my decisions don't stand or fall at the head of your cock!"

He froze, then blinked. Finally, he frowned.

"That wasn't language I expected from you."

Too angry to care much about his linguistic expectations, she raged on.

"And Hroar? Hrafn and Hroar are your heart's desire, and you can keep them! Yes, if I was forced to choose one of them, I would take Hroar, and I have already turned him down!"

Kildevi heard the words fly out of her mouth, but by then it was too late to stop them.

"What?"

"That sounded worse than it was."

"Hroar has…"

Eyes intense with outrage and disbelief, Eskil walked closer. His hand instinctively went to a sword that wasn't there, instead it came to rest on the handle of the belt knife.

"What exactly has Hroar done? Tell me!"

"Nothing that bad, it came out wrong. He hasn't tried to court me or touch me or seduce me, he just…"

"He just?"

"He just offered to make himself worthy of me in case something should happen to you."

Her voice had gone from filled with righteous rage to thin, small. Scared? Was that her voice?

"Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I… it didn't seem like a good thing to tell you."

"It seems like exactly the sort of thing a loyal wife would tell her husband. So why didn't you?"

"Because I didn't want you to challenge the boy over something that stupid! I knew you'd go off. And I thought none of us would ever see him again, at least not in many years."

"...when you may be free to take him up on his offer."

It took her a moment to find her tongue again. Did he… where was that coming from?

"Have you gone mad? That's also why I didn't tell you, when you wouldn't even let me be alone with him to tell his fortune, I knew you wouldn't be sensible about this either."

"Also, he's not a boy. He's a man, he's very much a man, who made offers to my wife behind my back."

"...if you die, and I said no!"

She sighed.

"Listen, Hroar is just a very young man who has listened to too many stories. He may be tall, and one day he may be renowned, but back in the glade on the holy island… he was just an overgrown boy with his head full of ideas of how to become what he wanted to be. I think, at that point, what he wanted to be was you. And he thought that what he needed to become what he dreamed he could be, was the same things you have, and keeping an all-seeing wife is just one of those things. He had probably never met a vǫlva before, most farmer's sons may see an old woman on a raised chair in their chieftain's hall once a year, and that's that. He had never talked to me."

She paused, then added, "I mean, honestly, in contrast to his brother he'd never even talked over me. He very carefully looked away whenever I showed my face outside the tent not properly dressed - that too in sharp contrast to his brother. It's not like he tried to seduce me, or even get to know me. He just needed something to aspire to, and there I was. That's not something to die for."

"And it never occurred to you that he might be waiting for an opportunity to kill me?"

"No. I didn't know you would choose to spend the winter among mercenaries. Back then, I still thought you would be with me. And there is another thing."

"What?"

"I've seen his life, clearer than foretellings ever are. He won't die for many years yet. It wasn't his life I was trying to save."

Eskil was silent for a moment. Then he shook his head.

"No matter who lives or dies, I can't let this pass."


She had tried to argue. She had pleaded. She had screamed, cried, even tried to stand in the way of the door, but there had been no way to stop him from strapping on his sword and seax and walking out.

"I want you there to watch," he'd said as he paused in the door. "But if you can't get a grip on yourself, it's better for everyone if you don't."


When he was gone, Ina silently appeared from the inner room and sat down next to her.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I need to see what happens, I can't just sit here, but I don't know… I might cry so much my heart falls out, and then he doesn't want me there."

"Do you think he's going to kill him?"

"I know he won't, I've seen Hroar's future. But I don't think he'll stop at anything less, and…"

She couldn't finish the sentence.

Softly, Ina put her arm around Kildevi's shoulders, and they sat for a while, the only sound breaking the silence the raspy breathing of a throat worn out by crying.

"Here is what we're going to do," Ina finally said, voice soft and reassuring as if talking to a child. "You sit on the benches outside the House of the Gods, where you will have a good view of the big yard. I go down into the crowd, to listen and witness. That way, whatever happens, you will see, and if there is anything to hear, I will tell you."


And so they did.

This wasn't official justice. No formal challenge had been issued or accepted, no one was called as witness, except that Eskil had Thore behind him and Hrafn had stepped in behind his little brother. From a distance, she saw Eskil turn to Ina, who pointed up towards where she sat outside the cult house. When he spotted her, he gave her a slow nod in recognition, looking calm and self-assured.

People had started to gather, men and women emerging from the surrounding buildings, curious and thirsty for blood and entertainment.

If she hadn't known how much Hroar had left to achieve before his death, she wouldn't have been crying now. She would have stood down there, confidently watching, safe in the knowledge that Eskil's skill and years of experience would vastly outweigh the slight yet visible difference in height between the combatants.

Now she saw swords drawn, but instead of shields, they both held seaxes in their off hand. This would be unarmoured, shieldless. When they began circling each other, she shut her eyes, and kept them closed through the first rounds of sighs from the crowd.


When she opened them again, both men still stood on their feet, seemingly unharmed. As clear as it was that Hroar struggled to find an angle to strike, as clear was it to her that Eskil controlled the space, calmly anticipating every move, waiting for something. What was he doing?

When he finally moved in, it was over quicker than she expected. One moment she saw Eskil parry with the seax, locking the younger man's sword in place far up on the longer blade, before making a turn that blocked his following move from her view. His other arm beat down on something. The next moment, Hroar stood disarmed with only the seax left in his hands.

She saw Eskil take a step back to give the younger man a chance to pick up his weapon, but Hroar didn't. Instead he just stood still, and let the seax fall from his hand onto the paved stone of the yard, yielding.

Kildevi started breathing again.

That was when Eskil suddenly turned and made a quick strike against Hroar's unprotected neck. A loud sigh went through the crowd and Hroar twitched, so much he almost lost his balance.

But the cut didn't hit. Instead, Eskil's blade halted, and landed without force on the shoulder. She saw him take a step closer to say something in the young man's ear, before he sheathed his sword and walked away.


She did not rise to follow him. As the fear and panic dissipated, she had room to feel exactly how angry she was, how bitterness welled up and filled the space previously taken by anxiety.

How dare he? How dare he be jealous and suspicious because he himself had chosen to go away without her. How dare he act as if he planned to kill and then simply defeat with humiliation and insult. How dare he tell her to get a grip on herself in the face of his probable death and how dare he demand that she tell him things when this was the outcome!

That boiling rage had just about calmed to a controlled simmer when someone came walking up behind her.

"Ever wonder what it is about you that drives men mad?"

Kildevi didn't turn, she recognised the voice well enough.

"Nothing. You manage that so well on your own."

Eyes firmly fixed on the endless stream of men passing through the gates below, she continued. "I know it's neither seduction nor beauty. My current theory is that you're all sent by Loki to play a cruel prank on me."

Ormgeir chuckled. She still hadn't turned, but the voice was so close it might lead to a second challenge if Eskil saw them.

"Something about you fuels dreams."

She snorted.

"Yes. Whatever could it be? The only thing he dreamed of was what I could make of him. Same with Eskil, at least to begin with."

Kildevi glanced to the side. As she'd thought, his profile was no more than a foot away.

"Probably not you, though. What is it you're after?"

He didn't reply. Instead, he said, "your father didn't play well. He should have named you, given you to his mother, only to take you back when it was time to pick which contender he wanted for a throne, and give you to him."

"Is that what you would have done? Because trust me when I say that with the wrong man, I wouldn't have been free to become what I am."

She fell silent for a moment.

"There was a reason my grandmother left my grandfather as soon as she had her children. You can't wield power when left powerless."

"Then your grandfather was a fool too, to use a sword for a plough. That mistake left their bloodline in the hands of petty merchants instead of kings."

"Not anymore."

"He's rising, but he's not a king."

"His father plays a long game."

"Yes, that son of a builder likes his stakes high."

There was no mistaking the disdain in his voice.

Still without turning, she replied, "that son of a builder is my father in all but blood. If you insult Thorlev Sigulfsson, you insult me."

"Then I will speak no further of him, I have little good to say."

In the corner of her eye, she saw him nod towards the yard.

"Eskil let that young man live. Why?"

"It was a compromise. I implored him to let it be."

Now he turned his head, one eyebrow sardonically raised.

"He bends to you?"

"Not to me. To fate. Just like the rest of us, except he sometimes has prior warning."

"And that is why you are a sword for a jarl, not a plough for a farmer."


When Ormgeir took his leave, Ina stepped out from behind the temple, where she had clearly waited for him to leave. She looked worried, face curious and concerned in equal measure as she leant close to keep her voice low.

"Do you know who you just talked to?"

Kildevi shrugged, more interested in what Ina had heard than talking about old men and their schemes.

"I think so."

"And yet you were very casual. You looked like old friends talking."

"It doesn't come natural to me to bend my head in reverence."

Ina sat down next to her and unwrapped a bundle full of wheat cakes to share.

"Maybe you should. I have seen you bow, I know you can bend if you have to." Eyebrows knitted, she looked down the path where Ormgeir had just disappeared from view. "That is not a man you want to challenge."

Kildevi took a biscuit and glanced at her friend.

"You know, people keep whispering things like that, but this far, no one has told me exactly what he has done to earn that reputation."

Ina was silent for a moment, then she shook her head.

"I am not the best one to ask about the kniaz's advisors, but from what I've heard, he killed the envoy from the Severians, in the hall in front of the prince and everybody. Just drew and ran the man through, for sneering at the wrong time. He also made an example of the entire family of one of the scions who had been spreading rumours about him, burned down the house with them inside. Then, there is the story of his first wife, even though that was back when father was young."

"His first wife?"

"Yes. She was the daughter of a chieftain among the northern tribes and was unlucky enough to catch his eye. He sent a man to the Chudes with a proposal, and the father said no, so he set out from Ladoga with a warband and crept up on the hall in the dark of night. They say he forcibly married her in front of her parents before he killed them, along with her brothers. Then he took his wife for himself and gave her sisters to his two closest men."

She paused. "He is not a man you want to cross."

Kildevi was silent. Maybe not shocked, but at least confused. She'd known men like that, she was fathered by one.

None of them had ever approached the world with a charming smile. None of them had ever shown her another side than the one necessary to keep everyone on their toes. And, honestly, none of them had ever been very good at any other signalling than brute force.

Like them, he had gathered riches, power, women, and influence by ruthless violence. And yet, he was building a kingdom by whispering in the ear of a rising prince.

"Just please, be careful," Ina concluded. "I don't know what business he has with you, but I don't want to see you killed by your own stubbornness."

"He hasn't expected me to bow to him. This entire time, he has just thrown invitations my way, and has looked thoroughly delighted when I've slapped them back. I don't think he wants my subservience."

Ina didn't reply, but she didn't look relieved. Kildevi changed the subject.

"But I know you didn't come here to talk about Ormgeir."

"No. Eskil has returned home, asking for you. Don't you want to come and see him?"

Kildevi shook her head.

"Not yet. I know that I will have to, soon, but… I need to be angry a bit longer to be calm when I meet him."

"But at least he's alive?"

Looking down on her hands, Kildevi snorted.

"Yes. But he's also an idiot."

Ina glanced at her, and when she spoke her voice was mild.

"No, he's not. A friend betrayed him, and in reparation he demanded a public show of strength - and won. That isn't being an idiot, except that I think everyone was surprised to see Eskil aim for insult, not death."

"But you know why."

"Yes. That is how I know the ending was a show of wisdom, not disdain."

Kildevi kept silent for a few breaths. That was not the main reason she was still steeped in defensive anger.

"You also heard him accuse me of lecherous disloyalty."

Ina nodded, but she was smiling now.

"Yes, I heard that. Men are anxious about their honour, and like it or not, you are his. He is probably not going to sleep alone for many nights when he's away, and judges your behaviour by his own. Don't take it personally, be flattered that he worries."

"I see jealousy differently than you do."

Ina gave a little shrug, unbothered by their differing opinions.

"And so can things be in life, but either way, you don't want to waste your last day before he leaves brooding outside in the chill, alone. He is a man who just won a challenge, over you no less. The least he should be able to expect is your presence."

So, with Ina as a guide to all those wifely expectations, she reluctantly returned.


"I hate you right now."

"Don't. I still love you."

"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me you never planned to kill him?"

"Because I didn't know that yet. I had to get away from you to decide which path to take."

"And then? Couldn't you have told me?"

"No. I had to do it while I was still angry."

"So why did I need to get a grip on myself when you didn't?"

"Because I needed my anger to do what I had to. People might have thought your tears were for him."

"How can you think like that in the middle of everything?"

He shrugged.

"I can feel one thing while thinking another. You can thank your first husband for that."

"What did you say to him?"

"I told him that while he might have much of his life left, his son hasn't, if he ever talks to you again when I'm not there to hear him."



"This is the last night before I leave."

"I know."

"Can't we spend it… not fighting?"

He spooned up to her, nuzzling into the nape of her neck. It didn't feel licentious or demanding, but she felt the strength of her own deadlock when his closeness pushed against it.

"I'm trying."

"So, what is it? Of everything it could be? I know today has given ample cause."

"Your jealousy, mostly. You've never been jealous before. Not until this summer."

"I've never had reason before."

"I still haven't given you reason."

"You may not have given me reason. Others have done that for you."

She wrangled herself free from his grip and rolled over on her back to look up at him.

"So the only reason you weren't jealous before, is because you were so sure no one else would be interested? It never had anything to do with my character?"

He was silent for a moment.

"When you put it like that, it doesn't sound good."

"No. Especially not coupled with calling me lewd and untrustworthy."

He sighed, stroking a strand of hair away from her face.

"You know that wasn't what I meant."

"Do I? Because even though it was the first time you used wantonness as a motivation for jealousy, it certainly wasn't the first time you've pointed me out as a wanton. And right now, I don't want a cold goodbye to be the last thing you remember, but…" she shrugged, "you also can't shame me for something and then expect me to forget about it as soon as you want it from me again."

"I didn't shame you. It was more of a… reflection on risk assessment."

"Don't dig this hole deeper."

He pushed himself up on his elbow, looking down at her with a thoughtful furrow between his eyebrows.

"I'm not, I'm trying to explain my thinking without lying for the sake of convenience. See, I'd much rather have a wife who is happy to welcome me than one who finds me the last chore of the day. But, that also means that there is a need I'm not there to fill, and we all know that food smells better the hungrier you are."

"Men are not food."

They could be.

Shut up.

Having shot down the whisper, she continued, "if you're hungry, it doesn't matter much what you eat: as long as it's food, it's going to fill you. The same is not even remotely true for longing."

"Maybe not a perfect likeness, but women are hungrier than men, that's ancient knowledge. Is it such a strange thing to consider which temptations will be here or not?"

"Not strange, just insulting. And you have a terrible taste in men."

"I do?"

"Yes. Trust me, there are many people I'd rather sleep with than your candidates."

There was a short moment of shock, disbelief, and confusion flashing across his face, before the corner of his mouth started its battle against a smile.

"Who? Tell me! I want at least ten names above the three of mine if you call my taste terrible."

"Well, above Hrafn and Hroar, you find our entire ship's crew, no exceptions. That's seven, you included."

By now, he looked completely incredulous, maybe even a bit affronted.

"Why? I mean, they're handsome, strong, martial young men, why would anyone take Asgaut or Thorven above either of them?"

"Because they're annoying on their own, and on top of that they make you act like you're sixteen and a gift to all women."

"Well, at sixteen, I was."

"Add five years and I might believe you."

Kildevi suddenly remembered something, and fought to suppress a giggle.

"And you should hear of all the strange situations women have dragged Thorven into, I truly doubt the golden boys have stories to compete. He should be fine if you keep his mouth busy."

"Ow. Let's stop this here, I'm getting pictures I don't want."

Deadlock broken, she cruelly laughed at his pained expression.

"My point is that you're safe. You just keep your eyes set on coming back, and I promise not to let any man over seven near my bed while you're away."

He smiled at that.

"I'll do my best to return in one piece. We don't expect any resistance, the size of the prince's forces is mainly a show of strength - and a way to keep them fed over the winter at someone else's expense."

"I know. And it's not the Slavs I'm worried about."

His finger stroked down her cheek and continued down her neck, tracing the swell of her breast down the side.

"So, how about less worry, and more time for a drawn-out goodbye?"

"Are you feeling patient?"

"Let's be impatient when I come back."


She didn't let anyone else into her own bed, but somewhere around midnight on the first night alone, she grew tired of the sleepless shivering and tip-toed out of the guest bed, into the innermost room of the house.

"Pst, Ina! Are you awake?"

"Mm… no?"

"Is there room for me here?"

Still half asleep, Ina rolled up towards the wall, pulling the sleeping Yaroslav with her, and Kildevi climbed down in the warmth of a proper bed filled with people.

"Where is Majka?"

"Down here, her knees are kicking my thighs, the rest of her is somewhere."

"Andronikos?"

"On my other side."

"Can I sleep with you until he comes back? It's cold out there."

"Of course, you shouldn't have to sleep alone. Between the first and second sleep, we tell stories. Maybe you know a few I don't?"

---

End note:
Eskil's worry that women are sexually insatiable has been a scholarly truth for most of western history. A very short and simplified timeline goes something like:

Greek philosophers: Women are crazy, they hump everything that moves! Men, gods, trees, swans, even slaves unless they're eunuchs. Not like us, we have self-control. Gals don't have that. That's why they can't be in politics. Or even outside, really.

Mediaeval scholars: I know, right? You Greek guys are always right. Let's just slap some bible on it, because ever since Eve ate that apple, they're just spreading their…. sin, all over the place! Look how many pictures I made of happy women picking penises from trees. Those in their baskets are just for today.

Spoiler: Le roman de la rose 13th century, NSFW pic of penis-picking nuns

One or two nuns: Wait a minute… then why do you need all those concubines and sex workers?

Scholars: Lalalala! Can't hear you! Also, that's why they're simple, wicked creatures. And can't be in politics.

Enlightenment scholars: Oh, how silly of you. Everybody knows ladies hate sex! If they're horny, it's probably a mental illness. Or they're hussies. Pick one.

One or two literate women: So, can we be in politics now?

Scholars: Let's wait a century or two, just to be sure.

 

[Alvlin]

Kildevi had been willing to give Beleka the benefit of the doubt. After all, it couldn't have been easy to come in to take over a household already run by two daughters for several years, and she suspected that a young girl just barely a woman wouldn't have been thrilled about a match to someone Bjarni's age.

She remembered her own reaction to Thorlev on their first meeting, how he had seemed so old she'd only been able to see his appeal in past terms. No, she wouldn't have been wildly happy about the prospect.

That said, Beleka was hard to get along with, and the animosity between her and Ina was impossible for anyone to miss. Years of chafing against each other had created a deadlock, ripe with eye-rolls and hostile remarks. The situation was made even worse by the children so obviously preferring their sister over their mother, even though Ina was no less stern with them.

Three weeks in, Kildevi was so fed up with the whole situation she pondered the possibility of borrowing a horse and joining Eskil at the Severians, whether he liked it or not. Or maybe they had gone on to the Drevlians by now? Either way, it came as a relief when Beleka stated she was leaving to spend midwinter with her side of the family.

"And Bjarni just lets her leave?" Kildevi asked when she and Ina were seated alone with their needlework. "I have never seen a family where a wife returns to her old home at every opportunity!"

Ina shrugged.

"Yes, he does. They don't like each other very much, but the match sealed an arrangement both families depend on, so they're stuck with each other. Also, he still wants his bed warmed from time to time and she wants to see the children, so…"

"Why doesn't she just bring the children?"

"He won't allow it as long as I'm here, except for the youngest who still takes the breast. I guess he knows they're the reason she comes back."

Kildevi tried to imagine being married to someone you only barely could stand, who had an unmarried daughter you didn't get along with. It wasn't hard to see why Beleka had such a temper.

"So, what will happen when you move away?"

Ina shrugged again, this time more empathically.

"Either she gets to bring them, or he stops letting her go. Maybe she'll stand this place better without me in it. Either way, she won't be my problem anymore."



The square in Podil on a market day was a sight to see. Maybe not compared to Miklagard, or even St Mamas, but after four weeks in Kyiv, immersed in the home life of Bjarni's family, the busy marketplace felt like an adventure. Children left at home, she and Ina drifted between market stands with one of their house guards in tow. After chancing upon two old friends, Bjarni had quickly wandered off and left them alone. Ina rolled her eyes when he left.

"He takes every chance to get away from me on market days," she said, amused. "You see, he is wildly fond of finery, but he also preaches to me about household expenses. As if I wouldn't notice when new things suddenly show up out of budget!"

Kildevi glanced at her friend, well attired in the winter chill. Ina did not wear brooches, but the hat was sable, and those silver temple rings were not small, nor cheaply made. Ina must have noticed the glance, because she winked.

"He's not a complete miser, just fond of telling me how to do my work."

They spent the entire morning drifting back and forth over the square. Mostly together, but on a few occasions Ina got caught up in conversations in Slavic and rather than forcing everyone to speak Norse, Kildevi took the chance to go off on her own for a moment.

Thus she stood alone inspecting a wool broadcloth at one of the market stands, when she spotted a familiar figure in the corner of her eye. Blinking, she did a double take. Yes, that was Aslaug. In a… dress? No, that was a long tunic, just slightly too short for a full dress, and a closer look revealed she wasn't unarmed - but the seax was mostly hidden beneath the cloak and the cut of her clothes ambiguous enough to pass at first glance. It would probably pass a second glance too, unless you expected to see something else.

"Leerie!"

Aslaug turned towards the voice, and Kildevi saw her smile - not smirk or leer - and walk up to a woman who stood waving at her from a stand one row over. The caller was simply dressed, but looked wholesome and clean, ginger curls visible around the face beneath the hood.

Stunned, Kildevi watched them talk. When the red haired matron stood up on her toes to whisper something, Aslaug put an arm around her shoulders with casual familiarity. To Kildevi, they looked like an old married couple, but she realised that to someone who didn't know Aslaug, they could just as well be friends or cousins.

A short while later, Aslaug took off again, and the woman turned her attention back to her own market stand. She too had textiles for sale. After a quick look around to make sure Aslaug was elsewhere, Kildevi's curiosity took over, and she sauntered over to have a closer look.

On the table, rolls of hand woven ribbons were laid out, all wool, but finely made. In a stack next to them were smaller pieces of fabric in different weaves, most of them undyed, but two of them were a yellowy green that Kildevi guessed came from tansy. Remembering how she had been picking tansy that first time Eskil saw her again, as well as the pale green colour of Andronikos eyes, she was instantly drawn to them.

"How can I help you today, dear?"

The voice was warm, the Norse accented, but the accent wasn't Slavic. She couldn't decide exactly what it was. Instead of dwelling on it, she looked up at what she assumed was Aslaug's bedmate.

She looked… nice. No striking beauty, just a rounded face slightly speckled with pale freckles even at the height of winter. How old could she be? Well over three, probably closer to four times ten.

"I want to look at the green ones, how much is there of each piece?"

"But of course, dearie! They're only end pieces you see, the larger of them is a fine plain weave, dense but not thick, just enough for a wee one. Here, I'll unfold it for you!"

Kildevi took off her mittens and picked up the piece of fabric, feeling the weight and the drape, before doing the same with the other. The second was a diamond twill, slightly thicker, equally well made.

"What do you have to trade?" The saleswoman asked. "Wares or silver?"

"Silver. I am travelling and only here over the winter, but we have a toddler with us, growing quickly, and in need of warm clothes."

"Oh, I see, that's why I haven't seen you before! When you stand here every market day, you get to know the faces of most of the womenfolk. If you're a weaver, that is. I bet the blacksmiths know the men better."

She winked. There was an ease about her, a warmth and familiarity that Kildevi had not expected from Aslaug's lover. But why not? She was willing to bet those men who were now under Eskil's command couldn't imagine him trading petty banter with his wife either.

"Do you have small ones of your own?"

"Yes, indeed I do. Or they're not so wee anymore, the youngest is in her eighth year now and the eldest still at home is thirteen, a boy of ten in the middle. I argued well and got to keep the girls. My late husband saw the point of a weaver having daughters."

So, she was a widow. That made sense.

"Then I suppose you don't have anything in good condition left to sell? The poor boy left Miklagard with a small luggage of southern finery, nothing well fitted for a winter in Kyiv, or a chilly journey north when the ice breaks."

"Miklagard you say? You came here with the merchants and the prince's men? What an adventure for a young lass! But I am afraid not, at least not anything fit for someone of your standing. If you pop over to Slavica three stands down, she might. Her children are smaller and her husband still alive, so I know she keeps everything, in case there comes a new babe. And she's very fond of dyes, so some of it is my weaves with some nice colours on them. Go on to her when we're done, tell her I sent you!"

Kildevi cut off enough hacksilver to pay after only the bare minimum of barter. She probably could have driven a harder bargain, but the price was reasonable, the fabrics good, and she felt that a woman dealing with Aslaug for the entire winter deserved to be decently paid.



Hulda mín Huld, how long shall I wait?

Suddenly stiff, Kildevi looked around. Behind her, Ina kept fiddling with the ties of her stockings.

When are you going to come to old Bannik?
Weeks, you have been here, Hulda mín Huld.

She was sure that Ina didn't hear that old cracked voice. It seemed to come seeping in through the planks from the steaming bathroom and out into the tiny vestibule where they were undressing.

Each bathday you visit my dwelling, mín Huld
Only to leave before I appear
Hulda min Huld, I have drink for you!
The sweetest of bread for mín Hulda.

Why are you calling me Hulda? Kildevi threw out her thought, naturally cautious when unknown dwellers were offering to feed her, while calling her by the name of a sejðwife from legend. But the voice didn't answer her, instead it continued to recite the greeting.

When next we gather, Hulda mín Huld
I ask you to be there, Hulda mín Huld
We drink and make merry, Hulda mín Huld
Old Bannik will dance, he will sing in the steam
from the stream, come and see me mín Hulda

"Are you ready?"

Still preoccupied by the voice of the old dweller man, Kildevi nodded and followed Ina into the steaming bathroom.



A three day ride from Kyiv, two brothers were sitting alone around a small campfire while their campmates collected more firewood. Their conversation was a familiar one by now. With minor variations, it was the fourth or fifth time they had it.

"Are you really going to let that insult slide?"

Hroar sighed.

"It was not an insult. The outcome was fair."

"Fair? He humiliated you in front of the whole crowd, as if you weren't worthy to bloody his blade!"

"I did wrong. I betrayed a friend. I went behind his back to make an offer that was an attack on the loyalty of his wife." Hroar shrugged, as if the whole issue was simple, and over and done with. "He should have killed me. We both know he could have."

"That would have been a lesser stain on your name. If he had killed you I would have had to avenge you, but none of us would have lost face, none of us would have been left a lesser man. I can't believe you're not furious!"

"And I can't believe you keep talking about treason. We are oathbound to follow him. He used to be our friend, and if I had been a better man, he would have been one still."

Hrafn rose and started to pace back and forth, gesturing in agitation.

"He threatened your son! Don't you care that Sigfrid has an axe hanging over his neck?"

Hroar looked up. What he was going to say now, was new.

"I know Sigfrid will live."

Hrafn stopped his pacing to stare at him.

"How can you be so sure?"

"The same way I knew he would not kill me. Sigfrid is fated for things he cannot do in many years, I know that he will at least live to become a man."

"So, why would Eskil threaten you with it? He must know, right?"

Hroar looked into the fire, thoughtful, serious.

"I don't think she has told him. I don't think she told him anything, except that I would live."

"But why wouldn't she? I've been thinking about that a lot, why didn't she tell him back then, and why did she tell him now? Do you think she seriously considered you?"

Hroar gave it a short moment of thought, then he shook his head.

"No. Who knows why a vǫlva does one thing and not the other? Who knows what she will tell, and why?"

He looked away from the fire, up at his brother. His big big-brother. His confident, strong, loving brother, whom he had leaned on and cried with and landed on when they were boys sliding down the snowy hillside behind the farmhouse.

There were things in their future he hadn't told him, either.



"Ina, is there a special time or place when the Bannik appears?"

Ina looked up from her needlework, surprised by the question.

"The last bath-fire for the day is always for him, that's why the door is so carefully locked. No one wants to stumble in by mistake and make him burn down the bathhouse."

In the corner of her eye, Kildevi noted that Deva had stopped combing Andronikos. Instead, the thrall looked at her matron with caution, as if she suspected the whole conversation to end with an unintentional heap of embers in the backyard. After her visions on the holy island, Kildevi had handed down the simplest of her own kirtles for Deva to change and refit. That meant she was now attired like a high ranking house slave, and the only thing that showed her thralldom at first glance was the hair, bare and cut off at the shoulders.

"Does he always burn down the bathhouse if you walk in on him when he bathes?"

Ina shrugged.

"I don't know, we try to keep on his good side. Why?"

"Nothing. I just sensed something yesterday and was curious."

Ina accepted that answer, but Kildevi noted that Deva kept glancing at her with brows furrowed from worry. Maybe she should be a little bit careful with the Bannik.



"Pst. Kildevi."

"Mm."

"Are you awake?"

"Mm."

"Did you ever tell Eskil about what we talked about?"

Kildevi went from half asleep to wide awake between two heartbeats.

"Yes. Yes, I did. I realised he'd only get ill at ease by you showing yourself off in front of me unless he knew what it was about, and he always needs some time to get used to an idea before he warms to it."

"You know, I thought so, but I didn't want to ask. I didn't want you to think I expected you to handle it. What did he say?"

Ina sounded nervous, but there was no mistaking the eagerness in her voice.

"First he thought I'd gotten tired of him and tried to dump him on you instead, but then he seemed to come around. Talking about trade possibilities and routes and whatnot."

"So he's thinking about it?"

"I hope so."

Ina didn't squeal, but the small noise she made was very closely related to one.

"I can't believe we might go north to be sisters!"

"I am not sure that sharing a husband is the same as being sisters…"

"It should be."

Kildevi smiled. Ina's enthusiasm was contagious.

"You know what? You're right, and I've always wanted a sister. Let's make it happen!"

They both fell quiet, the even breathing of the three children the only sound to break the silence.

"Ina?"

"Mm?"

"Aren't you worried about coming second? Won't you feel… I don't know. Left out?"

It was too dark to see, but Kildevi felt the head shake through the pillows.

"No. It's obvious that you love him, I don't. I never expected love in a marriage, and I don't think I even want it. For a husband he seems likeable enough and I have already started to grow proud of him, but what I really want is a family where I have a standing, and my own household to work for." Voice turned cheeky, she added, "if you give me the keys to mistress the house, you can keep aaall the other mistressing!"

"Maybe not all of it, if you want to get a swell on that belly."

"I meant the companioning and advisory and such, but I'm sure you can have most of that other thing too. My sister found me kissing with our cousin behind their outhouse four summers ago, and that's the closest I've ever been to a man. It was fun, but also a bit disappointing. Not worth all the trouble it got us into."

While Kildevi smiled at the image, her mind worried about something else.

"He's not a brute, so whatever you think about it in the end, it won't be harrowing. He'll care if he hurts you - or bores you for that matter. But you know his mother still keeps the household? You probably won't be the mistress of the whole house for some years yet."

"Yes, I know. But in the long run I'll know that I'm not building something only to leave it at father's whim, and that I'll get to keep the children I raise as long as nothing happens to them."

Kildevi felt her reach out to softly touch the heads of the children between them.

"I love my siblings, but they are Beleka's. I only get to borrow them until father finds me a husband. I know full well that I'm not their mother." She paused. "There is another thing, though…"

"Please, tell me."

"You know, I won't know anyone. Everything I have ever known is here."

Ina's voice was hesitant now, barely carrying through the darkness. Kildevi put her hand on her friend's arm, across the soft form of a sleeping Yaroslav.

"I know."

"It's an adventure, but I'm scared."

"I know."

"What if no one likes me?"

"Then I will. Always."

 

[Alvlin]

"Kildevi! They're coming! They're coming at noon!"

Ina came running back from her morning round for bread, eagerly shouting the news through the outer part of the house. There were three days left until midwinter, and even though Kildevi had known the prince would return with his court and her husband any day now, she still felt her heart skip a beat and a light flutter tickle her stomach.

"Noon, you say? Will they just be riding in, or how is this going to work?"

"The main force is usually left outside, and the commanders and Druzhina and the rest of the retinue ride up to the fortress."

"So where will I find Eskil?"

"He'll probably be released at the palace yard with the rest of the court, but you wouldn't be the only woman to follow her man through the gates if you want to. Do you want to go?"

Yes. Yes, she did.

The rest of the morning, she paced back and forth in the outer room, listening for the sound of a crowd gathering outside. When finally she heard it, she threw on everything she would need to stand in wait for as long as it took, and ran out to take up a post by the main road up to the gates.

Everyone was out, but even though Ina chattered on and the children were wild and restless, Kildevi kept her gaze on the street where the procession came closer and closer.

Their ascent was painfully slow. First came the prince surrounded by scions, right behind him his consorts, and then a long row of men in byrnes and helmets carrying standards. Among the first, she spotted Ormgeir, riding next to another man his age with the same rich ornamentation on his weapons and armour. When he spotted her in the crowd, he made a small bow her way that instantly made his companion turn his face and give her a long look of inspection.

It was obvious her own companions noticed too, because Ina looked worried again, and Bjarni turned sharply towards her with a disbelieving look on his face. Obviously Eskil hadn't told him, or he hadn't believed it.

Either way, she replied to the bow with a curt nod. She wasn't here for him.

Shortly thereafter, she saw the well known helmet with the bronze overlay framing the eyes and nose-plate, almost the same colour as the hair hanging down beneath the lower rim. He wore his byrne over a tunic she didn't recognize, a clear blue visible at knee height, and above it a silk caftan lined with furs.

She didn't know if it was the splendour of this new attire or the fact that she hadn't seen him for so long, but she almost felt shy. Was that her husband? Was he really the father of her daughter?

With some force, she shouldered herself through the crowd to the procession, and ran up to him where he rode through the frozen mud of the street descending from the Kyiv hill.

She wasn't the first, nor the last, to push to the front to greet someone and follow them up towards the gate. The helmet covered most of his face, but the smile reached his eyes when he spotted her, and when she joined the procession next to him, he reached out to grab her hand and kiss her knuckles through the mittens.

When they finally reached the yard, he dismounted, grabbed ahold of her and twirled her around.

"Meet me at Bjarni's stables," he whispered. "Once we get inside, we won't get a moment alone."



A short while later, she found herself pushed up against the wall of the feed room.

"I've… I've missed you," he panted while she fumbled with his caftan buttons.

"Me too."

"You smell… mine."

"I am, now stop talking!"


Another short while later, made slightly longer because it was the wrong kind of bout for a coat of mail to be helpful, they both lay on the floor, panting and laughing.

"What was that?"

"I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, but what's with the rush?"

"I said we'd be impatient when I returned."

"Yes, but… the stables?!"

"I didn't understand back then that we wouldn't be left alone for the entire day. I had to come up with something."

Kildevi managed to collect herself and rolled over on her side to look down on him. Seeing his flushed face, she started to laugh again.

"So, how do we get out and join the others without giving us away?"

"We don't. We just walk out and watch their faces when I pick stray straws of hay off your head."

And they did. Maybe the rest of the household were being tactful, but apart from Ina trying hard not to laugh when she saw them, no one seemed to react when they snuck into the house through the yard and emerged from inside the house a bit rumpled, dirt and straw only summarily brushed off from dresses and tunics.


Something happened inside her whenever she looked at him now. Not so much the flutter of butterflies, it was more like the surge of a sudden fall without the impact of a landing.

It had been so long, it was hard not to touch to make sure he was real, and all the while everyone was gathered in the main room, she held his hand under the table, fiddling, stroking, tickling the palm while he talked. He didn't seem to mind her restless fingers, and for a short while he returned the gesture, but slowly she began to realise there was something there, weighing on his mind.

Maybe he wasn't that happy to see her? Maybe he had found it a relief to be alone, no one bickering or challenging or wanting things or wandering off without telling, or maybe he'd found someone simpler who flattered him more that he wanted back to, or maybe he had been glad to see her but was already over it and found her annoying, or maybe he'd mainly missed to lie down with her and now when that was done realised he hadn't missed the rest of her very much, or …

No, she recognised her own descent into madness. Whatever it was, he would probably tell her, sooner or later.


It was considerably later, after an afternoon of everyone clamouring for his attention, that they finally found themselves alone in the backyard while the rest of the household made ready for the evening.

Preparations for the midwinter feast were well underway, and the welcoming of those who had returned would be a small celebration here, as in most households. But a celebration it would be, and guests were coming for the evening meal. Asgaut was among them, and so was Eymund and Ragnleif, the other guests friends of Bjarni that Eskil knew but she didn't. Sadly, Thore wouldn't join them. He had returned to Kyiv with a bad cold, and would have to stay at his lodgings.

Now, when they were finally alone, Kildevi didn't know what to say. The distractions of other company gone, it was clear to her that something was wrong, but she struggled to find the confidence to bring it up in the midst of all those confused feelings of joy, shyness and worry. In the fading light, he stood for a while watching the little yard, until finally, he turned to her.

"Just so you know, you will come with me when I go back out."

Kildevi stared back at him, not sure how to react. Her first impulse was to scream with joy, but something about his expression told her it would be a one sided cheer. Finally, she found her voice.

"Wh-why?"

"The prince has requested you."

"What? How? Why?"

Eskil sighed, rubbing his forehead with a deep furrow between his eyebrows.

"All good questions. The first night at the Severians, Ormgeir cornered me to ask where you were, and he was not happy with my answer. A week later we heard rumours about unrest among the Dregoviches. Then, a few days after that, I was called in front of the Kniaz himself and told that he expects you to join the court when we leave Kyiv after the midwinter feast."

"You don't sound very happy about that."

"Of course I'm not happy," he said slowly, emphasis on every word. "I left you behind for a reason. He doesn't want you along for a nice little feast in the countryside, he wants you along to scare the living shit out of the most quarrelsome tribesmen. I will be dragging you into the lands of a tribe rattling their weapons, hoping it never turns into an uprising."

Eskil shook his head, keeping his gaze fixed on her.

"And even apart from that? No. I don't want you there. I don't want you to be a trinket in the hands of powerful men who don't care much if you live or die. I don't want you trotting around in the treacherous bog of a court full of deadly, bloody power struggles. I don't want you around to tempt Hroar into hastening what he wants to be fated, and I don't want you around to distract me and be a weakness in front of two long hundred northmen used to being their own men. So no. I am not happy."

Amazing. He had come home this very day and already she felt her heart sink and her temper rise. Part of it was anger that he doubted her ability to handle herself, an even bigger part hurt that he wanted to leave her behind so badly he found no joy at all in the prospect.

"Would it be an affront to you to hear that I am? But we can sleep apart if that makes me less of a distraction, as you so charmingly phrased it. I have actually missed you, you see, not only making use of you to sleep better."

He blinked as the comment struck, then his jaw set in determination.

"Had that been all you were, you would neither be a distraction nor a weakness. I have a role to fill, with no room to dally around wondering if you're running amok among the snakes and the wolves."

Kildevi suddenly realised exactly how fed up she was with having his need for control and penchant for worry blamed on her being careless and naïve. She took risks sometimes. He didn't agree with them. Fine. But she was loath to say what she really thought about his caution.

"Let me remind you that I was raised in the hall of Thorvald Vibjornson, with his three wives and two ever changing concubines, not to mention the men around him who clamoured for his power or attention. My guess is that your father hasn't killed a single member of his own family, the same can not be said of mine, and Thorlev found me in a raid that had left me the sole survivor of a feuding faction. You are not the right man to lecture me about the deadliness of power struggles!"

"Yet I'm not the one running around in skirmishes unarmed or stalking Pecheneg war camps at night. "

"And that is not because I don't know what I risk. You are simply more… careful."

He leant back against the wall, arms crossed, just looking at her for an uncomfortably long while before he replied.

"It's not cowardice to protect what's yours."

"It is, if you allow petty worry to come in the way of glory and renown. What do you think it will do to your name in the Kniaz's court if you bring a vǫlva to his side at his request, hm? You are already the lion guarding his wife's hair from being melted to rings that would be used to bind her to the underworld. Use it. Use me. If not, you are a coward."

That jaw of his was tense, as she had known it would be, but what she was doing was exactly what he would have claimed that she should have, if asked in general terms. If this wasn't pushing your loved ones to a life of greatness, she didn't know what was.

Finally, he sighed.

"It's out of my hands anyway. I can't refuse, you are coming along no matter what I think." Resigned, he continued, "I just wish you had someone with you to keep an eye on you so I don't have to, but the only two men I would trust with that are currently in my regiment."

"But what about Audvard?"

"Audvard wouldn't question a single thing you did or said. He'd let you jump off a cliff if you said you could fly."

That was undoubtedly true. It was also what she had been hoping for.

"And I can't bloody well send Thogard or Thore along like some kind of vǫlvic courtiers anyway," he continued, "not without someone else acting as a shield to slander."

Kildevi cocked her head and quickly went through her arguments before she spoke.

"There is a solution to that, you know."

"There is? I'd be happy to hear it."

"If you go into negotiations with Bjarni, I could probably bring Ina with me. She is rich in common sense, she speaks Slavic, which I still don't do well enough to talk on my own, and with her there you could leave a man with us without too many rumours spreading. She may not be used to life at court, but she does know the Rus of Kyiv and something of the tribes we visit. The chants are easy to teach her if she doesn't recognise them already. That in turn would mean I could leave Deva behind with Andronikos, so he won't have another mother figure taken from him. It would solve many problems at once."

Eskil fell silent. She knew he didn't like to make any sort of decision without time to rest on it, and thus she tried to put little weight on his hesitation.

"That would be a commitment for life, hers or mine. I can't bring a new wife into our household just to give you a lady in waiting for a few weeks."

"It would also give you claims of kinship to the Kyivan Rus, and to the East Polans through her mother's side. Married to us both you would have ties to the Finns, the Jaemts, the Dalecarlians, the Westmen, the eastern Polans and the Rus. A rather impressive range of kin, don't you think?"

"Right now, I don't know what I think."

She shrugged. "You had almost decided to do it anyway, why not let this be the final step in making that decision?"

"Give me until tomorrow morning, at least. I will give you my answer before we rise."



It was surprisingly good to see the steersmen again, and now that she knew what bothered Eskil, Kildevi found herself quite bubbly and at ease in spite of their disagreement. With that whole conversation off his chest, he seemed lighter too, laughing, talking, even grabbing her hand to draw her in as she passed behind him. Both Asgaut and Ragnleif had stayed in Kyiv along with most of the men, and Ragnleif estimated that maybe a third of their convoy had gone with the prince, the rest either finding other occupation, or guarding the warehouse that held their cargo over the winter.

Meanwhile, Eymund hung around Eskil like a courtier, sporting an overly serious expression.

"It looks like I have competition," Ina commented with a nod to where the young man sat, listening avidly and trying to be introduced to everyone. "Isn't he buzzing around your husband like a swooning maiden?"

Kildevi snorted.

"Yes, except he's less competing with you and more with Eskil's adjunct. You see, Thore is about Eskil's age, two years older, and his father was a farmer. Eymund is from a family of wealth and standing, and I don't think that young cockerel understands why Eskil would choose to lean on a farmer's son with life experience over mentoring a promising young man from a family of wealthy landowners."

Ina took a few moments to observe the young man in question.

"He seems quite polished, maybe also a bit guarded? Is he the kind who carefully chooses every word he says?"

"Yes, exactly that. He so desperately wants to seem worldly and ready to play with the tried and hardened, he sometimes comes across as the opposite. And ever since the first evening in Miklagard, he wants to be Eskil's best friend. But Eskil can be a very silly boy when he feels like it nowadays, and poor overly proper Eymund has never managed to come any closer than being around."

"Nowadays?"

Kildevi rolled her eyes.

"Once upon a time, when he was one and twenty and I was younger than you are now, he hardly even blinked without calculation. The first time I saw him genuinely laugh and smile, he'd gotten a hard hit in the head and was housebound for three weeks."

"That shaped him up?"

"No, not until he went east and stayed away for almost three years. That shaped him up."


As it turned out, Ina wasn't the one who suddenly had competition. Kildevi noted with some amusement how Eymund drifted away from Eskil when the plates and bowls had begun to empty. Instead, every time she saw Ina, she also saw Eymund, casually hanging around, talking to the same people, inviting her into their conversations.

Kildevi had walked in behind the screen around their guest bed to see if she could find his tweezers, when Eskil snuck up and caught her around the waist. After getting a squeal, a kiss and a laugh, he asked, "Where is Eymund? When he first got here I couldn't get rid of him, and now I haven't seen him in a long while."

Head cocked, Kildevi glanced up at him.

"He's following Ina around, of course!"

His face dropped in a most satisfactory way.

"What? Why?!"

She shrugged, smile wide and eyebrows raised.

"I assume he saw something he liked and went to get it."

"Behind her father's back?"

He sounded upset. This couldn't have worked out better if she'd planned it.

"Oh, I don't think he's out to befoul her by seduction. I think he's simply trying to figure out what kind of offer Bjarni would be open to consider."

"But, he already has a wife!"

"Yes, a girl barely old enough to marry that he never talks about, and he wasn't born in a one-woman household. Just because you are slow to make decisions doesn't mean everything else stops to wait for you." Thoughtfully, she added, "and, just to remind you, so do you. Have a wife, I mean. In case you forgot."

Eskil shook his head.

"He's too young and unestablished, he doesn't have nearly enough weight to throw around yet."

"He's also a second son looking to find his place somewhere without breaking up their lands, and has been rubbing shoulders with Pridbor and Glebu ever since they met at the square in St Mamas." After a moment's pause, she teasingly added, "you act as if Eymund is doing something he shouldn't. Why is that? Does it feel like he's trespassing, somehow?"

That earned her an annoyed glance.

"...'cause you know, you don't haaave, a single little claim yet!" she sing-sang after him, looking way too amused as he walked away.


Curious, she tip-toed to the window and opened the shutter just enough to glance out into the backyard where she knew Ina had gone to get some air. Eymund had followed her out, and Bjarni had obviously invited himself to make sure they weren't left alone.

After a short while, she saw Eskil come out the back door, giving a friendly nod to the men before his eyes fell on the pale figure between them.

"Ah, there you are!"

With relaxed confidence he walked up to the surprised Ina and pulled her closer. The gesture was casual in all its intimacy, and Kidlevi noted how his hand came to rest a little bit too far down her side, his lips close enough to almost touch skin as he whispered something in her ear, and she nodded.

"Of course. I'll… I'll be right there."

Keeping his eyes on her half a breath too long, he smiled and walked back into the house again. A short while later, he came back into the main room, happily whistling.

"What did you whisper in that poor woman's ear?"

"I asked her to lend me a pair of tweezers, since you couldn't find mine."

"That did not look like a man asking for tweezers."

"It didn't? Oh well, that's what I did. Look, I have them here."

Eymund seemed to have known the gesture for the territorial marking it was, because shortly thereafter he too returned to the main room and stayed there for the rest of the evening, throwing Kildevi thoughtful glances. He probably wondered if she knew.



"Kildevi."

"Mm."

"Are you awake?"

"Mm."

"How are we going to sleep?"

"Wh…What do you mean?"

"If I say yes when we wake up tomorrow, are we going to fit a second bed in the old longhouse? Or does she move in with us? Is there room for three people in that bed?"

"Eskil. You're going to make the offer. We both know you're just stalling."

"But I've never had to think about this before! What did your father do?"

Kidlevi sighed, a deep, tired sigh all the way from the bottom of her sleepy heart.

"First of all, that's a much later problem. There is room. Second, my father's way of keeping wives is not what we want. Trust me. You could tell who was a favourite or who was in disfavour by watching who slept where, the ones on the benches were out in the cold. That only works to keep everyone in constant fear of dismissal, it is a terrible idea."

"Should we just make a bigger bed, then? That way no one would seem to be in favour."

"I don't think that is a great idea, I think we will need our own beds."

"But if you each have your own bed and I move between, that means it's easy for everyone to count where I spend most nights."

"True as that may be… would you really be comfortable if one of us had to watch every night as you laid with the other?"

His face went blank for a moment.

"Didn't think about that."

"How can that not be the first thing you thought about?!"

"Sounds very cosy on cold winter nights, though."

"If it's that cold, I'm sure we can move."



"I have two issues to discuss with you, both are about your daughter."

"Two? I'll bring out a flagon, then!"

Bjarni sat down in his chair at the short end of the long table while Eskil made himself comfortable on the bench, back to the wall. The remains of breakfast had just been cleared away, and the room was empty of people.

Seemingly empty of people. From behind the drapes of the guest bed came the restless "ptptptpt" of someone moving their lips because they couldn't be still and silent anymore. Then a small voice hissed, "shut up Majka, I'm trying to listen!"

Their sounds muffled by drapes and drowned in adult voices, the tiny spies went undetected.


"How quickly do you want this arrangement made? I suppose we could turn the midwinter feast into a wedding, but if so… we will need to discuss the extra costs that would bring."

Eskil raised his mug, for a moment torn between amusement and affront. But Bjarni was a goat, and according to his father always had been. Of course he'd assume a certain eagerness.

Just as Kildevi had suspected, Bjarni had been reluctant to let Ina go with them until an offer was made, and had warmed to the idea the moment bride negotiations were mentioned. That was a relief, because while Kildevi had assumed that Bjarni would want an offer to let her go with them, he himself had seen a risk that the old man would want to send his daughter to court free for courtship, so to speak. After all, there would be a whole princely retinue's worth of eyes to catch, and Ina was the last bride Bjarni could assume he would ever have to barter with, the youngest still being so very young.

The old man had already raced against time to get her the best match possible - only to be thwarted at the last moment. Now, he was taking a chance based on what he hoped this family friend would become, and Eskil was willing to bet it wouldn't have been on the table two years back.

"I feel no need to go back to the prince with two wives," he replied, uneasy at the thought of what an instant wedding would signal about the balance of standing within his household. "I propose we wait and do this properly, so Ina can get her bride rites. I have no reason to rush this."

Bjarni leant back, watching the younger man's face closely.

"I take it you don't want her to come along for you, then. Because you do understand I can't look away if she goes to you before at least a date is set, not too far off in the future."

"Of course. And no, she's coming as my wife's companion, not mine. I won't try to take anything out in advance, but it felt more fair to you - and Ina - to make an offer before we go to the Polans, maybe even close negotiations, depending on how quickly we come to an agreement. It would be very uncomfortable for everyone if the poor girl still thought she had to find flimsy reasons to rub against me."

Silence fell for a moment, then Bjarni chuckled.

"So this isn't a decision made because she whetted your appetite."

Eskil smiled sardonically at the comment.

"No. Like most of my good decisions, it's made with my upper head. But that is not an insult to your daughter, she's a shapely young woman. I'm not surprised her last match was a boyar."

"Have the girls conspired?"

It felt odd to hear women of eighteen and two-and-twenty called girls, but maybe the perspective changed with your own age.

"Yes, that they have. Kildevi seems certain it will be her and Ina against me on every issue she will have from here on. I'm not so sure about that myself."

"Why not? They sound more like sisters than wives competing for a husband."

Eskil snorted.

"I don't know how much competition there will be for me to stave off, but your daughter seems sensible in a way my wife isn't. I hope to gain an ally, even if that means they sometimes might rally against me."

Bjarni nodded. He looked thoughtful, but pleased.

Eskil suddenly remembered something.

"Have you asked her if she agrees to the match?"

Bjarni looked up, surprised.

"No, it's obvious she does. She has been posing all kinds of questions to me about the homelands, things she has never shown any interest in before. She is also a good, dutiful daughter. She'll do as she's told."

"Still, it tends to be bad luck not to. If you don't, I will, just to make sure. None of us wants this to go sour because of an oversight."


"Ina, are you going to be Eskil's wife?"

"Maybe, what did they say?"

A small hand demanded payment and a handful of wheat-cakes changed hands.

"They said you're going to the prince to look at Kildevi and teach her how to speak properly but you can't go at him because he's thinking with his head and Pa will send you with wine to Holmgard and Kildevi will give you keys but if you don't get along with his ma you'll only have them when she's away. Kildevi, not the ma. The ma never goes away."

"You have done well, Yaro. I hope his mother isn't too hard to get along with. See Majka, husbands don't have to be old and boring!"

"He's old. And ugly. I'm only gonna marry Yaro."



That afternoon, Kildevi came home from a walk to find a still slightly red-nosed Thore sitting in the outer room, plied with an apple and a mug of beer. He looked up when he saw someone come in and when he recognised who it was, his face lit up.

"Kildevi! There is a face I haven't seen for too long, how is Kyiv treating you?"

"Very well, thank you!" she replied, and joined him at the table. Leaning closer, she added, "truth be told I'm bored out of my mind, but I'm well taken care of and everyone is very nice to me."

"Maybe that is the problem? After ten months with us, nice is boring?"

Kildevi was just about to reply when Ina came out from the inner rooms, wiping her hands on her apron. When she saw them, she smiled and gave them both a polite nod.

"Welcome, Thore from Attundaland! I was told we had a guest, but I see that Kildevi is back and has already greeted you. Give me a moment to finish in here and I'll come to welcome you properly."

Thore looked after her as she disappeared into the inner part of the house again.

"Well, would you look at that," he noted.

"Don't look too much," Kildevi replied, amused. "My guess is that Eskil has called you here to ask you to witness her marriage negotiations."

"Oh, who's getting married?"

"He is."

Thore blinked, then sat for a moment just looking at her with the most confused expression she had ever seen on him.

"Could you say that again?"

"If everything works out and they manage to come to an agreement, she will become the second wife in Eskil's household. Or, as I have started to think about her, my husbandmate. But that is a bit of a mouthful, maybe manmate works better?"

"Man-mate."

"Like a shipmate, but you share a man, not a ship. We really need a word for what a man's wives are to each other."

Thore shook his head, seemingly more to clear it than anything else.

"You will have to back this up a bit. What? When did this happen? What happened? Are you two alright? He hasn't said a word about wanting more women, except some grumbling about how this journey means he just has one child by you, but that seemed to be about you, not more children in general. How are you feeling? Are you worried?"

"That was too many questions at once," Kildevi concluded with a smile. "I think we are alright, except that I look forward to join you to the Polans, while he would rather stick his hand in the fire than have me there. The short version of what happened is that our host tasked his daughter with trying to snare my husband, which made her distraught enough to come to me, who in turn thought about how our future may unfold and found her better in the long run than any other option I could think of. As to the worry…"

She bit her lip, hesitating about what to say. Thore was Eskil's man. But he was also Thore.

"Yes. I am. She is so many things I'm not, and most of them are things I think I should have been, but isn't? Does that make sense? She's kind and holds her temper in check, and she almost never drops anything, and can plan a feast with one hand while holding a babe with the other. She also looks very… womanly."

"I don't think anyone would say that you don't."

Kildevi grimaced.

"Maybe not, but I look most of you in the eye, I'm taller than Thorven, and in spite of that many people still assume I'm barely out of girlhood. But that's not the main point. She's simply what most people would call a good woman, if you understand me?"

Thore nodded.

"And yet you think this is a good idea?"

"Yes. She wants the parts of wifehood that I don't. With her as our matron, I can be a companion and not forced to make a choice between being a vǫlva and being his wife. I have the option to go my own way if his affections should change in such a way it becomes unbearable, but she would never try to make it so, and… sometimes, you have to risk things to keep them."

Her friend leaned forward to rest his arms on the table and gave her a long, thoughtful look.

"I don't think you have much to worry about. He's different when you're not there, and not in a good way. Definitely more focused, but also less… alive. I think he's even happier when you're screaming at each other than when he's alone in his own head."

"So why does he want to leave me behind?"

"I can't claim to know, but I have my guesses."

Thore dipped his apple in the beer and took a bite out of it before he continued.

"One part of it is probably exactly what he has claimed to me, that you're more careless than him, more of a risk taker, you do things on impulse and hope they pan out. He admires you for it, but your life is also his responsibility, and he takes that duty seriously."

Kildevi nodded. That lined up with what he had told her, although the admiration part was new to her.

"Another part is simple jealousy." He snorted. "Or maybe I should say double jealousy, because he's painfully aware of who gave you those gold rings, and knows how many powerful men who would want a woman with golden hair to whisper deadly secrets of fortune in their ears at night. Which leads us to the other side of the same coin: among the Rus, you have outgrown him, and most men would feel gelded by walking in the shadow of their wives. So I think he doesn't want anyone to take you away, but he also doesn't want you to steal his thunder."

"That's… silly of him."

"I don't know about that, I think most men would feel that way. I'm making this guess because I would."

"His family is my only family. I owe them loyalty, even apart from my loyalty to him."

"Maybe, but a few moments ago you talked about leaving him to go your own way if you need to. If your own, why not someone else's?"

There was a difference that she couldn't put into words, so she didn't.

"There is another thing, too. He has had to be a ruthless bastard sometimes, especially in the first two weeks before the men got a hang of him. I've done things I wouldn't want my late wife to see. I don't think he wants you to see that either."

"Aren't you going to introduce us? Alani only gave me a name."

Ina came walking out to them again, hands clean, her head properly dressed with headband and temple rings instead of the simple cap she'd worn over the braids before.

"Of course! This is Thore, son of Inge. He is Eskil's adjunct since Miklagard, and has been a shipmate since the beginning of this journey, a friend since Ladoga. And Thore, this is Ingeborg, daughter of Bjarni the Half-Dane. But if you call her Ingeborg, she won't listen. Everyone calls her Ina, Ingeborg was a forgotten name until I showed up."

"...and you simply had to tell him, didn't you?"

"I said I'd start calling you by your old name if you ever got a northman for a husband, so you better prepare for it!"

Ina shook her head and turned to Thore.

"Is she always like this? Forgets the things she should remember, but remembers the things you want her to forget?"

"More or less, yes," he replied with a chuckle. "But I can pretend I didn't listen. What was your name again?"


Eskil came back a short while later with Bjarni, and another man that Kildevi recognised as Ina's uncle on her late mother's side. Even if she hadn't known, it showed - those wide, rounded cheekbones that turned Ina's face so apple cheeked clearly was a family trait. They had met at least once before, but Kildevi could not remember his name apart from that it ended with -mil.

The four men sat down together at the end of the big table. No one had to tell Kildevi and Ina it was time to make themselves scarce.

"This… this is really happening," Ina said in a low voice as they entered the inner room.

"Yes. It is. But first, we will spend several weeks with the Kniaz's court, and since Yaro heard them talk about you bringing a shipment of wine with you to Holmgard, we can assume they don't plan for you to come back with us. I wonder exactly what it is they are in negotiations about?"

 

[Alvlin]

Eskil didn't say a word about the ongoing negotiations, not even when they went to bed in the evening, which was when he usually lowered his guard to talk. But at least, he was open about why.

"I can't have you talk to Ina, since she might talk to Bjarni. And I don't think either of you would be better off knowing things that may be on the table, but not ending up in the final agreement."

"Why not? Has it occurred to you that maybe I would like a chance to weigh in on this?"

He snorted, amused.

"Yes. I know you would love that. But you have already found a candidate and bartered her to me. Unless you're my widowed mother and I'm suddenly fifteen again, I don't think you should have more of a voice here than you already have."

"But what if you decide something stupid that I don't agree with?"

"Then you get to shove it in my face every time it becomes a problem, for as long as all three of us live."

It was banter, but it was also the final word. Kildevi had to let it go.


The discussions had mainly gone along the expected lines, what was left now was mere details. They had been in reasonable agreement on the mandatory legal factors. The bride price, dowry and morning gifts were all set in relation to each other, which meant that once Eskil had managed to push Bjarni to mention quantities on the size of the dowry, the rest basically settled itself.

He had once more or less set Kildevi's worth on his own, far higher than a negotiation would have wielded. That decision had seemed fully rational at the time, but had given rise to its own set of problems, since he now had to barter for Ina, knowing the terms had to be weighed against a very generous arrangement for his first wife. Kildevi's bride price and morning gift set the ceiling, but he couldn't go in too far below it either, definitely not as low as half. No matter how well the two women got along, that would signal too wide a gap in respect and standing, and could make things go sour quickly.

It had, however, made it easy for him and Bjarni to agree, at least on the legalities. The real bartering was about how that highly set price should impact all the additional side agreements.

Overall, it was going better than he had expected. And yet - something chafed. There was one perspective missing.


He finally found Ina by venturing into unknown lands, the innermost room with the loom where he knew she slept with the children.

Though used for more than crafts, it was the closest this house had to a loom house, and he was unsure about how to relate to it - was he supposed to be there at all, or would his passing over the threshold be an affront to the small folks guarding the house? Would a man's bumbling entry be disrespecting the women who dwelled there, or was he welcome as long as he respected that he was a mere visitor? Either way, he needed to get hold of her and the simplest way was to ask, without crossing the threshold.

After hovering by the door for a moment, Eskil said her name and she looked up, smiling when she saw who it was.

She waited. He waited. None of them seemed to realise what the other was waiting for. Finally, Eskil did his manly duty and took control of the situation by saying something.

"I am not sure if I'm supposed to come in or not…"

Awkward tension broken, Ina breathed out and waved him in.

"Please, enter! I am sure father would allow me to let you in if you leave the door open."

Slightly more relaxed, he entered, but he didn't sit down. Instead he halted in the middle of the room, hopefully not close enough to tower over her while she worked.

"If you came searching for me in the middle of everything, you must have an errand," she ventured, eyes on her needlework. "How are you faring out there?"

"It's going well, thank you. But I wonder… has Bjarni asked what you want to bring into our negotiations?"

Ina looked up at him, clearly surprised by the question.

"No. I assume he will protect my interests, since they would be in line with his own."

Now that they were alone together for the very first time, it was clear to Eskil that they didn't really know each other at all. That show he'd made for Eymund two days prior had only been just that, a ploy, a posturing in front of the younger man that happened to involve painting a false picture of intimacy. Yet Eskil felt somewhat responsible for her already. He didn't share her assumption that Bjarni's interests necessarily were in line with hers.

"Nothing about your wishes of rights in relation to Kildevi, or rights to personal property?"

Seeing the bewilderment on the young woman's face, a suspicion hit him.

"Bjarni hasn't asked you anything, has he?"

"No…"

Eskil sighed, suddenly tired. Bjarni ran his business well enough, the household was competently managed by Ina - with or without Beleka - but no one seemed to truly manage the family itself. That meant he would have to do Bjarni's work for him.

"In that case, do you agree to this marriage?"

Ina looked truly confused by now.

"I… I didn't know that was necessary?"

"Legally, it isn't. But in every song or story when marriages go truly bad, either no one has asked the bride, or the bond is forged against her wishes. So, before we call in the last four witnesses on midwinter morning, I would know if you accept your father's choice."

"Yes, I do."

"Good. With that out of the way, we can continue the proceedings."

He had just turned to leave, when Ina stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"I'm just curious… what would you have done if I had said no?"

Eskil took pause. He honestly hadn't considered that a possibility.

"First, I would have asked you why. If I saw a way to solve it, I would have done so. If not - we wouldn't move forward. I have reason to be wary of curses and omens."

"And those other things you said? Do you have any suggestions on what I should have said if Father had asked me?"

Eskil hesitated. He himself was the other party in this negotiation, and in theory he won nothing by adding to his own bonds in the contract. On the other hand… it was his household, it was in his interest to see rights and duties somewhat balanced. He had no plan to let his family go unmanaged.

"First of all, I would put in the right to gifts of at least three quarters the worth of what Kildevi receives from me, the same should apply to clothes and other personal attire. I would also specify whether you want someone specific to accompany you north. Sometimes, there can be a statement on sleeping arrangements and schedules, but I think we would do fine with some general agreement about your right to children. There's only two of you, not ten-and-two, the risk that I forget about one of you is rather small."

Ina nodded, thoughtful now.

"Thank you. What does Kildevi have in her agreement?"

"Very little. She had no family except for mine, who naturally shared interests with me. But there is a protection of her tribute as her personal property, and that she will be allowed to instruct our daughters in her secret knowledge."

"She has no rights in relation to other wives?"

"No. I don't think anyone ever thought of that." He frowned. "My father married above his standing and has kept my mother as his one pride and honour as a sign of respect and devotion. It was assumed I would do the same."

That was a conversation he did not look forward to having with his father when they returned.


Huuuulda.

This time, Kildevi was prepared. She paused her undressing to listen.

It's midwinter eve now, Hulda mín Huld
When are you coming to drink with old Bannik?

"Tonight, the night before the darkest. But you must promise not to burn down the bathhouse if I break some rule I don't know of, because I don't want my hosts to suffer."

She said it out loud, and Ina looked up at her from where she sat untying her shoes.

"Is he here? Is he spying on us?!"

Kildevi heard a low cackle from inside.

Old Bannik would never spy on the women!
His eyes are averted, Hulda mín Huld.
You tell mistress Ina to birch herself better
That skin on her thighs stays too white for too long.

She quickly decided that was information Ina didn't need. Instead she glanced at her friend who still sat with one shoe on, the other in her hand.

"You never told me he was a goat."

Ina suspiciously glared around.

"Can you tell him to stop? Because if he's looking, I'm bathing in my shift - or not at all."

"You heard the maiden! I say you two can make a trade - if you swear you won't sneak a peek, she lends me the key to the bathhouse tonight."

Oooo, such a spoilsport, Hulda mín Huld
Hard is your bargain, Hulda mín Huld
But so it shall be, I will sit on the porch
And no torch will be lit for mín Hulda.

"He accepts the trade," Kildevi said reassuringly, and Ina slowly continued her undressing, still looking around with narrowed eyes. Smiling at Ina's caution, she added,"he even says he won't burn anything down if I come to visit the banya when he's bathing tonight. Isn't that a relief?"


It had been a small adventure of its own to plan exactly how she was supposed to get away without anyone noticing, and Kildevi was relieved to have it confirmed that while Ina might be a good, dutiful, obedient daughter, she had a mischievous streak, well hidden from the men of the house.

On midwinter morning, the terms as well as the engagement itself would be made official in front of six witnesses, and Ina had made a good show of how nervous and anxious she felt about standing in the middle of such a thing, on midwinter itself, no less! To finally be promised away after eighteen years of belonging to no one but her father, and now… it would happen, and she was so overwhelmed, swooning from fear and excitement, her poor maidenly mind was having a wide-eyed, and quite fetching, theatrical breakdown.

There was simply no way she could sleep and care for the children alone, but alas, her only friend was a married woman. Surely, no one would expect a husband to forfeit his rights for the sake of a young woman's sudden and irrational need for someone to lean on, but maybe…

Eyes were pleading, lips bitten, chests heaving. Kildevi was impressed.

Bjarni had seemed none too happy and thoroughly embarrassed. Eskil - hadn't bought a word of it.

"What are you planning?" He had asked, as he cornered Kildevi before the evening meal.

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"You two are up to something. I want to know what it is."

"Is it so strange for a woman to be nervous the night before her engagement?"

"No. If the maiden in question had ever shown any signs of it before. And if you weren't you. And this wasn't the night before midwinter, and if I hadn't had any kind of instinct for when you're planning something behind my back. But since she hasn't, you are, it is and I have - I want to know what's going on."

So, she had told him, and he had been thoroughly relieved that it wasn't anything worse than visiting an unknown number of dwellers and spirits in the banya.


As it turned out, a wise man wouldn't refuse his soon-to-be bride the comfort of his first wife's experience to guide her through the transition. It was best for everyone, really, if the women were allowed to do whatever it was they did when no man was present, Eskil claimed when Bjarni tried to tell his daughter to stop being such a hassle. And, he added for clarity, it would be unmanly to be too curious about the details. Men shouldn't even want to know about what was said and done that close to the loom. Better to simply close the door and leave them alone.


A fire lit up the bathhouse, a flickering light visible from the inner room as the door creaked open. Kildevi took a cautious step into the outer room, before hesitation made her pause. Was she supposed to undress? It felt wrong to enter the inner banya with her clothes on, but could she really walk naked into a bath filled with unknown creatures of equally unknown desires?

No. Thus, after undressing, she took her shift and tied the arms as a headband around her head, the skirts falling to her knees down the back, before using her hair to cover her chest. Finally, she collected all the birch twigs she could find and held the thick brush like a loincloth down her front. Undressed, yet somewhat covered, she knocked on the door and pushed it open.

Inside, the steam hung thick, the small room buzzing with voices quickly silenced as the steam danced in the cold draft from the door. All eyes were on her, big and small, of all shapes, from tiny black dots to almond shaped amber.

Bannik perched in front of the stove, an old bodach the height of a child with a head the size of a grown man. Under the birchen twigs on his head was a toothless grin, framed by the white wisps of a beard. When he saw her, the grin stretched even wider.

At last you have come here, Hulda mín Huld.
Hulda mín Huld, sit down and make merry,
Let old Bannik ply you with water and wheat
And a treat, let me look at mín Hulda.

The glittering eyes quickly moved down her figure, until they darted back to her head.

But tell me, mín Hulda, why do you wear
A shift in the steam of the banya?

"This?" Kildevi replied, prepared for the game. "This is no shift, my dear host. This is simply a band to hold my hair in place."

Then bind it back properly, Hulda min Huld
The best way to hold back your hair is to braid it."

"But if I do, how can I wash it afterwards?"

The grin had faltered, wrinkly face twisted in dismay.

I see you brought birch twigs, Hulda mín Huld…

"And they are for you, old man Bannik. I will give you my gift as I leave."

Bannik started to snigger, grinning again as he raised a knobbly finger to wave it at her.

Cunning and wise, is Hulda mín Huld
Far seeing, all seeing like old man Bannik
Everyone here is your friend for tonight
But by first light - beware again, Hulda


Kildevi didn't know when she had returned to the house. Her memories of the night were blurry, and she estimated that she maybe, just barely, had gotten her first shift of sleep before she had been brutally awakened by sunrise and Andronikos' feet in her face.

Last night, when she left the banya, she had turned her back to the room and handed Bannik the brush of twigs as promised. When next she had twisted the shift around to bare her naked back for him to read, she had felt his long nails stroke down her sides in an omen of good fortune, before they tore into her back in warning.

Now she knew that Bannik had form. The wounds were still there by daylight.

Once Eskil and Bjarni had recited their agreement and sealed it with a handshake, she staggered back to Ina's bed for a second sleep. It was midwinter and an engagement had been brokered. No one would use the room for much work today anyway, and they were expected in the Kniaz' hall after noon. Something told her she would need her wits about her.


From inside, the great hall on Kyiv Hill was grander than any northern hall Kildevi had ever seen, and she was grateful that the opulence of Miklagard had dulled her sense of wonder. A myriad of lamps lit up the rows of tables and benches, casting dramatic shadows on the wallhangings, some of them with gold- and silver thread glistening in the warm firelight. The side beams and door frames were carved and painted with motifs from myth and legend, some well known to her, others not. Heated by both fires and people, the hall was warm in spite of the snow outside, a chilly draft the only reminder of winter.

Kildevi had never seen Ingvar, the Kniaz of Kyiv, with her own eyes, except for when the court returned, and then he had been hidden behind both his helmet and the surrounding scions. Now, he sat on the high seat, dark blonde hair, faded by the first grey, framing a hard-set face both rough and weathered. His consorts and advisors were seated around him in falling order of rank and importance. Ormgeir sat at the high table, one step away from the prince, but to her relief he was talking and didn't seem to have noticed her.

The inner end of the hall was a shining spectacle of gold and silk, but further down the tables the opulence was less striking. It was clear that they had entered the company of the rich and noble, to only barely fit in their finest. To Kildevi's relief, they were placed quite far down the hall, a little further than middle way, and around them sat scions of lower command and kinsmen of the tribal emissaries.

She shared Eskil's cup, but on her other side sat the town's most senior builder, representing his peers with his wife beside him, and opposite them one of the scions she vaguely remembered as a face from Ormgeir's tent, but had never spoken to during their journey. He was carefully not looking at her, and so she turned her attention to the master builder instead. The man was clearly of slavic origins, and the Norse he spoke hesitant and broken, but with mutual effort and some gestures she managed to convey that her late husband had been a skilled woodworker on his way to masterhood. Then Eskil joined in with his rudimentary Slavic, and soon the men sat comparing buildings between Westmanland and here.

One thing she envied in her husband was an ability to find common ground and then talk as if that common ground was important to him. She had never seen him wield an axe for anything more complicated than rough timber, and yet here he sat talking about the hall his grandfather built as if the construction of it was of great interest.


It was still quite early in the feast when the Kniaz demanded the tale of the past year's convoy to the Greeks. It was a new experience for Kildevi, to hear a journey she had partaken in told in verse and summed up into a story. It felt as if life as she had lived it was given form, more real when retold than ever it had been in the aimless mess of days rushing past.

Isidor did most of the telling from the side of the high table. He had the voice for it, soft, floating and melodic, yet strong enough to carry. It was a voice easy to fall into, even when the verses might not be perfectly composed. But he was a good skald. She had certainly heard, and done, much worse.

She herself was only named in passing when he mentioned the addition of their convoy on leaving Miklagard, but when they reached the island of the white shores, Isidor sat down again, and Ormgeir rose.


Something fluttered in Kildevi's belly, a rising sense of alarm that was too rational and based on prior knowledge to be considered a foretelling. Glancing at Eskil, she saw that he had come to the same conclusion the moment the big man stood up from his place at the high seat to look out over the gathered guests.

"I will tell you of a sejðwife, a spáwife, a vǫlva of the north
Who served the kniaz' men with streams and winds
White of arm the slender maiden
Fair and tall, yet forged in dwarven steel.

On wild white shores, she called her mistress
I heard the shifting fate, a changing wind.
I saw the ravens fly before the one-eyed god.
Yet there she sits in humble wool, disguised as him.

Beneath those silken cords her braids are golden
Meant for rings to pledge and bind and fetter
While Frǫya fell to lecherous deceit for gold,
No dwarf can snare such richness in a necklace."

Everyone who in some way stemmed from the north would know a variation of the story of how Frǫya had agreed to a night with each of the four dwarven goldsmiths in exchange for her beloved Brisingamen neckring. That last verse was praise for the steadfastness that raised her above the goddess, and yet a reminder that the high lady herself hadn't been that prissy.

Now, Ormgeir turned his eyes to her. They glittered. He was clearly enjoying himself.

"Come forth, Vǫlu-Kildve Thorvaldsdottir,
unnamed child of a mountain spring.

Bear-daughter, bear-sister,
gold-strand and silver-braid,
wife of wolves and lions.

Come forth, and let us see you,
she who fears no man, no curse, no storm.
She who tricks the lord of boglands.

Come, and be a guest among the not yet fallen."

The echo of his voice rebounded through the silence of the hall. She recognised Isidor's greeting from the camp when he had asked for her story about her friendship with the Pecheneg, but obviously Ormgeir had added to it.

Kildevi pondered the possibility of dying on the spot, but luck didn't seem to be on her side today.

"He did not just do that," she whispered to Eskil, horrified.

Eskil looked grim, and when he replied the voice was curt.

"He did. Good luck. Please don't challenge the prince."


Kildevi felt her knees shake as she rose and walked through the hall towards the high seat, past two hearths and endless rows of scions. Everyone's eyes were on her, in her blue dress with its strips of silk that suddenly didn't feel very fine or wide at all, the rings around the covered braids her only gold.

Eyes fixed in the fire of the second hearth, she tried to find her calm. Through her slow stride, she searched for that well known whisper, and when she found it, she paused to close her eyes for just a moment, feeling the flames rise to greet her. When she opened them, her legs carried her again, racing heartbeats slowed to a slight flutter.

Standing before the two steps leading up to the high table, she made a deep bow, and when she rose, she carefully kept her gaze fixed at the edge of the table, lowered, but not floorbound. She remembered her grandmother's voice, way back from childhood. You may serve kings, but you do not belong to them. You bow in respect, but you don't kneel in servitude. They are honoured to host you.

Somehow that was easier to believe sitting in the grass behind her fathers outhouses, than when faced with a real man on a throne. Nonetheless - her knee remained unbent.

"Welcome, Vǫlu-Kildve."

There was authority in that voice.

"Look at me."

She obeyed. This close, she could see him clearly, a furrowed face, not old but worn, sharp eyes now staring into hers. Not sure if this was a staredown or not, she steeled herself not to let her gaze waver and locked her eyes in his.

"Come closer."

Without breaking the stare, Kildevi took the two steps up on the raised platform and found herself standing in front of the table, now looking down on the seated prince.

"You have no following."

"No, sire."

Kildevi was surprised to hear her voice carry, but it did.

"Why not?"

"I am waiting for my daughters."

Yet another moment passed, then he turned his head to signal his closest dish bearer, and she was freed from his gaze.

"You will sit behind us to witness when my Druzhina renew their allegiance, an honoured guest and speaker of fate."

She nodded, unsure what to do now. Was she supposed to know where to go? Or would he tell her, when he was done with her? She had thought herself quite secure in her knowledge of etiquette, but there was a gulf between a dalecarlian chieftain and a prince of Rus that she didn't quite know how to bridge yet.

Then Ormgeir rose and took her hand across the table to courteously lead her on her way. As she rounded the short end, she saw that a chair had been placed for her to the left side of the high seat but slightly behind, putting her almost between Ormgeir and the man she guessed was the commander of the scions. It was a strange placement, high in rank yet outside the ranks. Unsure what to make of it, she sat down as gracefully as she could. She noted that her chair was higher, allowing her to see and be seen between the two men in front of her. It was a spáwife's chair, made for the gaze to reach above and beyond.

Incidentally, that made her level with Ormgeir.


When the feast moved on, the men both turned slightly towards her.

"Welcome behind the throne, Seeress," Ormgeir said in a low voice with an amused little nod. "It's good to finally see you back here, at my side where you belong."

Before she had a chance to reply, he continued.

"I must say I'm impressed. No warning could have reached you, and yet you had the mind to stop and play with fire. It was a nice touch."

Another nice touch, she noted, was how he wore the same crimson tunic he'd worn on the feast night in St Mamas, but which now contrasted against skin a flattering hue of winter pale, just slightly kissed by short days of sunlight. It looked ridiculously good. Kildevi took it as a personal provocation.

"Was this some sort of test of yours? To see how well my mind would bear up?"

She didn't bother to hide her annoyance behind more than a thin veneer of politeness.

"No. I simply didn't want to give him a reason to leave you at home - or for you to suddenly develop a headache or some other mild, convenient ailment."

In the background, she saw Eskil rise and be shown a new place closer to the high table. He now sat between Pridbor and a young, pretty woman with covered hair. So a standing right above Helgi's second, a high ranking scion, but not quite on par with a boyar.

The other man had been sitting silent, just watching the words pass between them with a frown. Now Ormgeir turned to him, still with that light-hearted expression on his face, as if all of this was simply making small talk.

"Sigvard, I believe you haven't met our all-knowing sejðkona. Don't be fooled by youthful beauty, her tongue is as relentless as her will."

He nodded in Eskil's direction, and continued.

"Apart from my short introduction, she is the grand-daughter of a sorceress princess of the Finns who was given to King Vibjorn of the Riverdale. Fathered by his son but never named, she ended up in the hands of our humble hero, who is the first among the unaligned northmen."

That was not exactly the titles Kildevi would have used to describe her ancestry, but since it worked in her favour and no one seemed to object, neither did she. After all, she did truly believe her grandmother deserved to be labelled a sorceress princess turned queen, and the title king could cover a wide range of chiefdoms. She told herself that was an acceptable description.

The warrior bowed his head, and though he didn't seek her gaze, he didn't actively avoid it.

"Kildevi, Sigvard is commander of the scions, a kinsman of the Kniaz, his mother Sigrid is cousin to the king in Uppsala, and we have been brothers since many years before Kniaz Ingvar left Holmgard for Kyiv."

Looking at his battle brother, Ormgeir smiled and added, "he even once had my wife's sister as his concubine."

Kildevi looked between them, as her stilled heart began to race again. So, these were the men who had raided the hall of a Chud chieftain to share his unmarried daughters. Suddenly the ice she stood on felt very thin.

"You are young to wield power."

Sigvards voice was rougher, harsher than Ormgeir's, but the comment didn't sound as if he was questioning her. It was a simple statement.

"I carry the wisdom of those who came before me," she replied.

"You may be young to wield power, but not too young to wield a cup," Ormgeir countered. "Would you do me the honour of sharing mine?"

She had no reason to refuse. It was simple courtesy, really, to share cups with your neighbour at the table, especially since she did not have a table to place anything on. And yet… it somehow felt daring to put her lips to the rim his lips had touched.

Suddenly, she was very glad he probably couldn't read her thoughts. Thus she graciously accepted the offered goblet and took a sip from the side where the bronze shone, polished and untouched, painfully self-aware under his gaze. Well pleased, he leant closer.

"Since you will finally be joining the court, let me give you some advice on what company to seek," he said in a low voice. "You will not be equally well loved by everyone."

"I don't know that I have made any enemies?"

Ormgeir chuckled.

"Oh, you don't have to make enemies to have them, when your very existence is a threat to their position. Not to mention those who eagerly chase the lion but loathe having to face the lioness."

Kildevi replied as casually as she could muster.

"Are you saying your men aren't men enough to keep their women? Then maybe they shouldn't have more than they can handle. No beast hunts without a hunger."

Leaning back again, he looked at her, eyebrows raised. Well aware she probably had accused a good number of high ranking men of deserving to be cuckolds, she waited.

"Bold words from the wife of a man who brings her with him wherever he goes. Except, this time he didn't. Why would that be?"

Yes, why would that be? Something to say, quickly! Not jealousy, or worry, or any of the main things she knew would reflect badly on him in the eyes of the men in front of her.

"He simply doesn't want me to be a trinket in the hands of big men."

"Oh. I would never call a sharpened blade a trinket. A good sword is used when needed, and well cared for in between."

"What he means is that you should stay away from Auð, who usually make the foretellings around here," Sigvard interrupted. "She's not a sejðwife, but it is her chair you're sitting on. She refused to be here when she heard you were coming, and spat venom when that didn't mean you were turned away. "

With that, he turned back to the table, obviously losing patience with them.

Kildevi glanced down the hall, until her eyes stopped at Eskil. He was in an animated conversation with Pridbor and an older man across his table, seemingly unperturbed by having the full attention of both the young woman sharing his cup and the fair haired not-really-a-woman-yet who sat opposite him.

Kildevi sighed. If even a single one of the women at the high table had the same reaction as the two in his present company, she could see how the sudden appearance of his lioness would be considered a problem.


It would be a long while before they were reunited again, after a night that for Kildevi's part had been filled with witnessing endless oaths, her main purpose to look regal and all-seeing while bored and restless.

Ormgeir had stopped the fencing of words in favour of more relaxed conversation, and Sigvard had interjected with comments here and there. He was the dour kind, but once he found her an attentive audience to their old battle stories, he was both more engaged and more engaging.

"There used to be three of us," he'd told her quite late in the evening when considerable amounts of strong-ale had passed his horn. "Sigvard, Ormgeir and Egil, but Egil was slain in glory and lies buried beneath a mound outside Ladoga, feasting in Valhall and waiting for us to join him there. He would have been proud. If he'd seen what we're building here. He would have been proud."

"What happened to the sister he got?"

Sigvard blinked, a bit thrown off by the question.

"Miellikki gave him a son, then a son more after he fell, then she married Sveinvidar who built the first great hall west of Holmgard, and had a couple more. That second son of Egil she named Helgi after the first real Kniaz of Kyiv. Even though she never left Holmgard, she had met him there. I know you know of him," he added with a nod down the table where Helgi sat a few paces away, "since he's the reason you and your lion are here in the first place."


When finally the Kniaz rose and everyone else was free to rise from their tables, Eskil had been curt, almost snappy. Kildevi knew why, at least she thought that she understood the cost in pride and humiliation it would be to have your wife singled out for the high table while your own rise through the ranks was clearly owed to her.

It still felt unfair, though. She had never asked for any of this.

It was a short walk from the great hall to Bjarni's house, but still they had called for Thogard, Eirik and Audvard to follow them home. Walking across the yard with their own men and mates, Eskil's attitude started to thaw again.

"So, what did you learn from your raised chair behind the throne?"

"A few things. One, that Sigvard and Ormgeir are old battle brothers, bloodsworn. Two, that the kniaz old spáwife loathes my presence. Three…"

She paused, deep in thought.

"Three brothers left Ladoga. Three daughters taken. Three sisters we have never met. Two hardened, one faded. They pass in and out of our story like weft, into the warp of this land of rivers."

Eskil gave her a scrutinising glance.

"Have you been… taking something?"

Surprised, she looked up.

"Taking something?"

"You know, to help your sight along. Have you been breathing or smearing something from your bags?"

"No! Why?"

"Because that's when you usually talk like that."

Most nights, that comment would have annoyed her, but for some reason it didn't this time.

"Maybe I am a bit torn between. Maybe I am preparing for something. We are passing the height of winter, to embark on not one journey but many. Bannik bade me farewell with a warning, and something tells me we are being drawn into a game of kings and princes. I have so many pieces of broken riddles… I hope we'll get to see what becomes of them."

---

Endnote: This chapter fought me. It demanded I killed a few darlings for the greater good (The Greater Good) and forced me to spell out things instead of vaguely hinting at them in the hope that subtext will suffice. I have probably subtexted and backreferenced shitloads that in hindsight should have been spelled out, reminded of or explained during the ca 200k words since the opening chapter of Sister Bear.

In short, If you have something in past chapters that you can't make sense of, or have a feeling something has flown over your head in a particular scene - shove it in my face. I was probably subtexting or easter egging stuff that should have been put into context, because even though I assume my readers to be clever, a reader is not necessarily the same as a mind-reader.
Or so I've been told.

Until next time: Take care - and be careful in your banya/sauna/steam-bath-of-choice. Wouldn't want it to burn because of an oversight.
/Alva

 

[Alvlin]

A quick word on words. A few very specific terms are used in this chapter, some in the glossary, some not, because I have been sloppy with updating all of the informationals.

Hundare: Administrative unit of a hundred households that go together to equip a unit of ships for a local king. For example does Fjardhundraland mean "the land of four hundare", Attundaland "The land of eight hundare" etc.

Hersir: Leader of a hundare, a sort of chieftain's title that often, but not always, included leading the military units. I've heard it described as a middle class stepping stone into what would later become the lower nobility, but I don't remember the source on that statement, so don't quote me on it.

þing: General assembly of free men.

So, here we go.

---

Bjarni had left the Kniaz' feast before them, and when they returned, he sat in the outer room with a mug of ale, waiting.

"I feel like something finally sunk into my head today," Bjarni said as they sat down. "I'm not sending my daughter to court to accompany the wife of a merchant who might one day be a hersir back home. I'm sending her to court to be a companion to a volkhva, wanted and hated by fractions who would crush me like a bug."

He put down his mug, harder than necessary, and continued. "She is not prepared. She's a sweet girl, but she's sheltered and naive. I'm a man of my word, but I want to be sure you're aware of a few things."

"She comes as a part of my household," Eskil broke in. "I'll take the same responsibility for her as I do for my wife."

"But you couldn't stop the advisors from calling her up on that dais, could you, son? Of course you couldn't. That's why they sit up there."

He turned his head towards Kildevi and had a good look at her face, as if he hadn't really seen her before.

"I knew a woman once, who dabbled in magic. She said my first marriage would be short, and she was right. She sang over my foot when I'd broken it at the rapids. She was well respected for it, and although she never married, we knew she was the mistress of an up and coming chieftain. I assumed that's what you were. A wisewoman who would push him to prosper, grant my daughter a good life and my son good opportunities."

"I think you have assumed right," Kildevi replied, "there is simply… more to it." Then something caught up with her. "Wait, Yaroslav?"

The question was aimed at her husband.

"We'll talk later," Eskil said quickly. "He'll come to us when he turns ten. What things do you want to make clear in light of this, Bjarni?"

The older man looked up. He was visibly shaken. Tired, but also stern and determined.

"First of all, that she's a simple girl. Good natured and sweet, but not the sharpest blade in the armoury. You can't expect her to fend much for herself without clear instructions and men to bear the arms. I want her protected. Don't assume she's some queen of the Svear, raised and hardened by a valkyrie mother."

He took a swig of ale and continued.

"Second, she's not used to men, or blood, or even sticking up for herself against brothers. She grew up with only a sister, well sheltered and, I admit, a bit spoiled. She was raised for a life inside the walls of someone rich enough to keep her comfortable, and does not know anything outside of the duties necessary to keep a husband happy. And cunning isn't needed for that."

Kildevi glanced at Eskil. He was watching Bjarni with a serious expression on his face, so serious, in fact, she knew that he was working hard on keeping that face straight.

"I don't know Ina very well yet, so I trust your advice," he said, deadpan. "Thank you for being honest with me."

"I wouldn't speak this frankly about my own daughter if it wasn't necessary for you to know. You can't expect her to handle things outside of the household. A political adversary would talk her head into a spin." He sighed. "Everything I've said here, I've said because she's dear to me and I want you to make sure she comes back unscathed. I won't have you expect things from her that she has no clue on how to handle."

"You have my word we will keep her as far away from the Kniaz' advisors as we can," Eskil assured him. "She is not my wife yet, just my wife's companion, and won't be expected to partake in any feasts or ceremonies. I wont allow her to take any risks."


"Strange," Eskil whispered when Bjarni had left and they were unpinning their finery. "She doesn't seem that simple."

Kildevi snorted.

"It's the opposite. She knows exactly what he wants from her and takes care to deliver it."

"Interesting. Have you ever tried that?"

For just a moment, Kildevi remembered herself shrunk to nothing, a shell where caution for someone else's wants and needs filled the mind with no room left for her own. How hard it had been to stand the crippling anxiety of not trying to foresee every expectation and fulfil it, or read every mood to disarm it in time. She had found no way to shield herself from that shapeless fear whenever he implied he would prefer her broken again.

That wasn't what he said. That wasn't what he meant. It was just banter.

Not wanting to be the one to ruin his good mood now that he seemed to have found it again, she played along and delivered what she knew he wanted.

"No," she said with a coquettish glance over her shoulder. "Your mother taught me better."



Two days of packing. Two days of frantic needlework. Two days of Yaroslav pretending to fight the Dregoviches for tribute, because obviously the East Polans wouldn't be a problem, because they were family and family never fought each other.

Two days of his little sister proving him wrong by repeatedly stealing his sword to give it to Andronikos, who now was the only one she'd ever accept to marry, because he let her take his stuff and didn't pinch back when she righteously bit him.

Two days of getting to know the horse she would borrow from Bjarni, two days of Eskil pacing the house like a caged animal between hushed conversations with Thore. Two days of Thogard only rarely leaving the bench in the backyard, two days of Ina fretting over every detail, nervous about her first journey outside Kyiv in over four years. Two days of Deva doing all of their laundry both inside and outside the backyard bathhouse, permitted to cover her cut hair in the freezing cold.

On the third day, they left Kyiv behind to go north, towards the first East Polan village with a chieftain's seat. When they reached the crest of the first hill, Ina reined in her horse and turned to look back at the companies who trudged uphill, mostly on foot, their leaders on horseback. In front of them rode the Druzhina, several long hundreds of heavy cavalry.

"There must be more men here than in all of Kyiv," she breathed.

"It is a bit overwhelming," Kildevi agreed. "Eskil said something about ten times a long hundred men, followed by a long hundred women. I don't know if that is just the court and the army, or if every thrall and servant is counted, but no matter what… I wouldn't want to stand in our way."



"Tactically, he's not bad."

It was the first night in the first Polan village, and food was being served in the chieftain's abode, together with generous amounts of drink, to usher in this second part of winter. A manner of hall it was, but Kildevi wasn't sure of what to call the timbered buildings of the Slavic chieftains, so abode would have to do.

She had been sitting alone with her plate while Eskil talked with Isidor, and been quite content with that. Now she looked up at the sound of Ormgeir's voice.

"Are we discussing anything specific?"

He sat down next to her with his arm resting against the carved back of the bench, and leaned closer, blocking her only path away from the table. The gold thread in the bands on his tunic shone in the warm light from the lamps above and a high glass was leisurely resting between his thumb and longfinger, brittle and dainty in the large hand.

"No. But as a tactician, he has promise, and he understands chains of logistics. I am still hesitant about some aspects of his character. A certain… disrespect for what life has gifted him. A lightness more becoming of a younger man than someone over two-score years. And, of course, a softness in some parts of life."

"Some parts?" she smiled, fully aware of which parts of life he meant.

Ormgeir glanced at her, a small smile playing in the corner of his mouth. The beard was meticulously groomed, framing the smile with sharp lines of silver and steel.

"Yes. And his lovely wife is not helping him. If only I had some minor reason to push him along, I would. Gladly. But as you know, I am not a man who does something for nothing."

"It would be a true insult to him if his skills weren't allowed to speak for themselves. I am sure he wouldn't want his successes to rest on my dishonour."

"And yet, so many men's successes rely on a woman playing the game well."

Kildevi raised her eyebrows as sardonically high as her features allowed, half-turning to look at him.

"Blunt transactions? Is that where we are now?"

A pleased smile spread across the weathered face, and his eyes quickly travelled down the front of her before he met her gaze.

"He wouldn't be the only one to profit. No matter what your hair is made of, no matter how slight your frame, it is not yet covered in the gold it deserves."

"And yet his respect for me is too great to barter me for gold. So that would be one of your worries put to rest."

Head tilted, he took his time to look at her, expression thoughtful.

"Yes. I see you are so greatly respected he has to leave you in Kyiv to be able to take other company."

Kildevi hoped she gained control of her face in time to hide how that comment struck, but she saw on his face that she didn't. He had seen the shock and hurt play out in the moment it took to get her mask up.

She knew. She never expected her husband to be in any way abstinent when they were apart. Men fucked, anything else would be seen as a lack of vigour.

But the brutality of having her own thoughts and worries thrown in her face, with the implication that she had been purposely rejected and dismissed, was something else than her assumption that those needs would probably somehow be met in her absence.

Ormgeir paused and gave her a look filled with quite convincing compassion.

"How easy it is to mistake respect for devotion."

This time, the old silver fox didn't wait for her to find a reply. Instead, he took her hand to press it once, before he gently put his own newly filled glass in her hand and left her with a plate still half full of food. She wasn't hungry anymore. At that point, her need for drink felt much more pressing.

At least she was far from the only one here who would go to bed in a drunken stupor.


Not very much later, Eskil tactfully whisked her away from the hall and brought her back to the house where they were quartered with the rest of his household: Ina, Thore, a thrall and the housecarls, Audvard now included. He briskly led her past Thogard and Eirik who looked up from their game to greet them, and onto the innermost bed, a raised and well draped piece that stood higher than strictly practical. At least for the severely inebriated.

When she sat down, he took a hold around her to help her in, lest she slide off again. She seemed to mistake his intention, because he was met with a foot on the shoulder before she rolled onto and into the bed. She was surprisingly lithe.

"Why don you'go an find your whore instead?!" She hissed with an unfocused glare, much louder than probably intended. "Musbe nice, no need ta be careful there, huh? Jus'to leddidgo whereeeever you want!"

He hung the lamp on its hook and climbed in after her before closing the drapes behind them, teeth visibly gritted.

"What is this about?"

"Don think I dunno. I'no. I'm allknow'n."

Eskil sighed and reached out to put a hand on her arm.

"Don'touchme!"

"I won't. I won't."

He pulled back his hand again. This was probably the most drunk he had ever seen her, with the possible exception of their last midwinter at home when a particular barrel of beer had been brewed way stronger than expected.

Then, she had been a happy, loving drunk.

Now, she was not.

"You din't have t'leave me! You could've fucked us'both! Bacraut! I hate you!"

She waved slaps in his direction, but he didn't need to avoid them for her to miss with a margin.

"I don't know what you've heard, but I have my guesses. Can I say something?"

"No. Dickface."

He ignored her and said it anyway.

"The prince sends a slave to every man in command, two to the commanding scions. It's just one of those things that comes with the rank. But trust me, that wasn't why I left you in Kyiv. I didn't even know about it until the first night."

"Wusser name?"

"Lyda, Lide, something like that. We didn't exactly talk much."

"Where'she now?"

He shrugged.

"Maybe here, maybe left in Kyiv. It might be the one sleeping with Ina now? I guess she belongs to my household as long as I'm in the Kniaz' service, unless they sent me another girl this time. I haven't bothered to check, if that tells you something."

"S'you didn't dump'me there t'be riddof me?"

"I wouldn't leave you behind for a slave. Ever. It would be like leaving wine for water."

He paused.

"This was one of my reasons to leave you in Kyiv, though. You are a piece in their game now. Whatever anyone says, you can't let them get to you. Who said what?'

She mumbled something in reply.

"I guess that means Ormgeir. He wants to split us up to isolate you. You don't take his word for anything."

He shot one more look at her where she sat on the bed, swaying.

"But first of all, you sleep it off. If you still think I've wronged you tomorrow, we'll talk more."

"D'you like me?"

Now, she was pouting. From rage to a pout in three heartbeats. If he said the wrong thing - there would be tears. He was too tired to handle tears.

"I like you, I love you, you're the best wife I've ever had."

"Good."

He waited. She looked at him. She looked pouty in a new way now.

"D'you remember th' fourth freshco?"

Because of course she had memorised the brothel menu from the Greek bathhouse. He had known, even as it happened, that he would one day regret bringing her there. Even though they had been almost alone and the only thing he'd had to explain were the frescoes.

Slowly, he shook his head.

"You are in no shape for the fourth fresco."

"Third?"

"Why? You're already a woman."

"Seventh?"

"Would end in the wrong kind of mess." Suddenly of two minds, he paused. "Actually… we can talk more about that one later."

"Eleventh?"

"What about we just crawl down under the skins and you do what you want, within reason, until you pass out, hm?"

That was a safe bet, and she actually helped him get her dresses off before she started to snore.


When Kildevi woke up the next morning, she came out of their bed to a house with a table set for breakfast, Ina and a thrall serving, and Thore sitting alone with a mug and a bowl. Without a word, he poured water into a tankard and pushed it across the table. Dressed in shift, stockings and a blanket, she sat down and drained half of it.

"You do realise you're still his only wife, right?"

She looked up. He had a joshing tone to his voice.

"Why?"

"When he said you're the best wife he's ever had, he wasn't lying."

She remembered. She actually remembered everything. She shouldn't. Why did she remember?

He lent closer across the table.

"Trust me, you shouldn't worry about Lida, she hasn't been in his bed since the first night. Then he took to a young man at the Severians, who… you know…" Thore hesitated. "... was argr enough to… yield. But Milo didn't come along to the Drevlians, and for the last month I didn't see him with anyone."

"Thank you for watching out for me, but I'm not worried about his other company."

"Mhm. That's why you were so calm and sober yesterday."

She shook her head. It hurt. She stopped.

"I don't mind where he stabs. I only mind if I'm set aside for it. Like, left behind in Kyiv just because he'd rather change bedmates than have me around."

"So since he didn't, problem solved?"

"Something like that. I don't expect to be the only, just the first and most important."

Kildevi put her head down on the table, tired and a bit embarrassed.

"And," she added sullenly, "I sort of love him and want him to want me. I wish I didn't. Would have made everything about everything much easier."

Thore turned to Ina, who had filled a bowl for herself and came to join them. When she sat down, her arm came to rest around Kildevi's shoulders in a passive gesture of comfort and belonging.

"And you? Are you as relaxed about this as Kildevi?"

"Uhm, I think so?"

He shook his head.

"Both my ma and my wife would have been livid. Maybe not about the one night here and there while away for months, but… they would definitely see a returning bedmate as disloyalty."

"Sounds exhausting," Ina concluded. "That's energy I'd rather spend on something else. I don't think I could cope with being that angry all the time."


It was close to noon when Kildevi finally managed to drag herself into her clothes and wash her face awake. A quick look in the small mirror Eskil used to groom his beard showed that most traces of last night were on the inside, her head still slow and her limbs heavy.

Kildevi hadn't seen Eskil for the entire day, and while Ina started to prepare the midday meal, she went out looking for him. In truth, she was a bit anxious about what he would have to say about the night before. Was he angry? Embarrassed? Amused? She quickly decided to at least try to be disarming and affectionate.

Thus, when she saw his back among a small group of men at the field where his unit was camped, Kildevi ran up to him, sneaking her arm around his waist from behind.

"Eskil, I…"

"Hey…"

Kildevi froze. The man who turned his head to look at her wasn't Eskil. They had the same colours, about the same build, but this man's face was longer and the skin bore traces of pox, noticeable but not really bad enough to be unbecoming. In truth, he looked like a more commonplace version of Eskil, one she would have been perfectly comfortable being seen with.

Now, he looked at her with amused surprise from a distance that clearly should have been reserved for family.

"I don't mind, but who are you, throwing yourself at me?"

Realising she still had her arm around him, she quickly pulled it back.

"I am so sorry, I thought you were someone else."

"I know. I even know who you thought I was. You're his daughter? Sister? Frillða?"

Wait, daughter?! How young did he think she was? No one would think Eskil above his early thirties, and that was on a rough day. Her mind got stuck in the counting for a moment before she replied.

"Wife."

"No, his wife is supposed to spit fate, fart thunder and wrap jarls around her fingers. You're way too cute and fresh faced for that. Unless he's such a big man he got himself a new one for the road?"

Kildevi was just about to reply when she saw him look up and when she turned, the looming figure of Thogard was walking towards them at a pace not so much rushed as determined.

"You must belong to him in some way at least, if his grappler is coming for you. I'm Ulfrik, son of Sigurd, who is Hersir of Aker's ship-þing in Attunda rod. Four and twenty of these men are mine."

"Four and twenty men from Roden? So you're the steersman of a full ship of rowers?"

Before she got a reply, a well known but heavy hand landed on Kildevi's shoulder.

"Ulfrik."

Thogard was never what you'd call overly friendly, but as he greeted the younger man, the deep voice was guarded enough for Kildevi to notice.

"I'll bring you home, make sure you get safely back to your husband. Let's go."



"Why was she even walking around on her own?"

It was early afternoon, and outside, the women were still cleaning up after the midday meal. Inside the house, Eskil looked between the gathered men of his household until his eyes landed on Thore.

"Where was she when you left?"

"When Ina said it was time to start cooking and I went to get you, Kildevi was still in her shift. She had barely even gotten her hair in order."

Eskil kept his gaze on him for a moment more before he looked away with a grimace.

"Thogard, from here on, you stay at the house. She goes out, you go with her."

The big man nodded.

"And Ina?"

"Try to bring her. If she's busy, send Lida next door to fetch Eymund."

"Are you sure you want to leave them alone?" Eirik asked, face drawn to a reluctant frown. "Wasn't he chasing her tail right before midwinter?"

Eskil snorted. Earlier, he'd given the issue a very brief consideration.

"Eymund wouldn't touch the woman of a peer with a ten foot pole. Trust me. I know his type well. He'll make sure there is nothing in his conduct that might taint his name or later come back to bite him."

"But, what do we do if one of the high ladies call for'er?"

Audvard's question was a bit too valid.

"Thogard can escort her there, but once inside, we'll have to trust her to fend for herself. We can't play on that part of the board."

"We need more men," he continued. "About five and twenty of the men are from our convoy, the four of you not counted. Twelve of those I trust to have a personal loyalty to speak of. Who do we know that stayed in Konugard? Gunvar? Vibjorn? Aslaug?"

Thore had been standing with a frown on his face during most of the conversation. Now he looked up again.

"You won't get Aslaug to move her arse anywhere, she's got one of her river-wives here, and they only have every third winter or so. We won't see a trace of her until the convoy leaves. But Vibjorn and Gunvar might be willing to join us, maybe Jonar too. He doesn't give a rats arse about you, but he likes her and is still an old mate to me and Audvard. He also never liked the east coasters much, I bet he'd love to crack some Roden skulls."

He looked at Audvard, who nodded in confirmation.

"I think Thorven already has his main posse here," Thore continued, "but I'll ask him if he has some more mates left in Kyiv who are enamoured with the two of you. I'm afraid you will have to lean on your wife here, she has been a bit of our banner ever since Ilmen."

He paused, thoughtfully scratching his beard.

"You know, she's not going to take well to being followed everywhere, at least not if you don't explain why."

Eskil thought about Ulfrik's smirk as they had passed each other that noon, how Ormgeir had found her alone in the dark when he had trusted her to stay safe at their lodgings, how Hroar had managed to give her offers of future marriage without his knowledge, and finally of Hrafns joshing old comments about how he had allowed her to run around for too long, doing whatever she pleased.

That had been back when they were friends. If he still said things like that, it wouldn't be in jest.

The thought alone made the blood beat furiously at his temples.

"Right now, I don't give a fuck what she takes to, as long as she doesn't do any more damage."


A few hours later, Eskil had reassessed his strategy and found it lacking.

In part, it was a matter of time having cooled his temper, in part finding wisdom in what Thore had said about Kildevi only following rules she understood the reasoning behind.

But the main and final part was that once he had left his duties for the day behind to return for the evening, he no longer felt the need to start a conflict that undoubtedly would escalate into full scale war, with someone who was supposed to be a consort rather than an adversary.

Kildevi aside, this would be Ina's first impression of what would become her family. He didn't want that impression to be one of heavy-handed despotism.

Thus, he snuck up behind Kildevi as she was unwinding her braids for the night, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Ástin mín? I need to talk to you about today."

"And I need to talk to you about last night."

Right. Yes. He had almost forgotten about that in the midst of everything.

"Yes, what happened last night? I left you to talk rations with Isidor, and when I came back, you… you seemed very cross with me and I'm still not sure why."

She paused, before carefully putting the folded ribbon down on the lid of her chest.

"I'm… I'm not sure either. Ormgeir implied you had left me behind because your respect for me was far greater than your actual affection, but that you really were quite bored with me by now, and since I had thought a lot along those lines myself when you were away, everything just went… arson."

"Arson?"

"Not really arson. I don't think I set anything on fire. Did I set something on fire?

She sounded so worried it was hard to hold back a smile.

"Not that I know of. My face, possibly, when you started to suggest things done to the most jaded among bought women, for the whole household to hear."

"Serves you right for not wanting them."

Eskil snorted and chuckled into her neck, somewhat relieved they still stood chest to back, not facing each other.

"You are many things, but rarely boring."

Now she wriggled free and turned to face him.

"So, why did you leave me in Kyiv?"

He'd told her dozens of times. They were very good reasons. Very reasonable reasons. Eskil still didn't grasp why she didn't consider them valid.

"Good question, that brings me straight to what happened today."

"Today? What happened today?"

"That's the question, isn't it? Why don't you tell me exactly what happened with Ulfrik Sigurdsson today?"

She frowned.

"Let's see… I was quite tired, and went looking for you. Thore had done his usual thing where he teases me for being a bad wife, so I thought I should try to be cute, in case you were still upset about last night."

"Wait, he does that?"

She looked up at him, surprised.

"Yes, all the time!"

He shook his head.

"Not in front of me, he doesn't."

"Well, that's a relief, at least. Anyway, I saw you from behind talking to two men I didn't know, so I snuck up behind you to surprise you."

Eskil sighed. This. This was one big part of the problem.

"You can't… you can't cuddle in front of men who have no bonds of family or loyalty. I can't afford to look soft in front of those whose respect I'm trying to earn."

She looked visibly taken aback.

"But… I'm your wife!"

"Doesn't matter. What they see is just one glaring chink in my armour."

"Either way, when you looked down, you weren't you. You were someone else. So… I let go of him and apologised."

In the back of Eskil's head, something screamed. No, there were two things screaming: the first beast roared in shame that Ulfrik's rowers had seen his wife embarrass herself, the other in jealous fury at the image of her arms around that… goatface.

He made sure there was no trace of it in his voice.

"And how did he take it?"

She shrugged.

"Pretty well, I thought. He mostly seemed amused and tried to figure out who I was to you. I didn't know I was supposed to be wary until I heard how curt Thogard was with him."

Eskil sighed.

"Yes, and wary you should be. You're not the only one who has noticed that we look alike from some angles."

He paused and decided to change direction. There was no way he was going to stand in front of his wife and explain how Ulfrik had turned his own face against him.

"Our fathers are peers, both hersirs leading a hundare, but to different kings. As you well know, father came to that position just a few years ago, while Ulfrik has a long line of leaders behind him."

Snorting, he added. "Incidentally, that happened in the wake of you lifting our curse, even though no one admitted the curse had anything to do with it. Either way, he had one look at me and decided I was the one he needed to beat to gain some weight to throw around down here."

He frowned. She usually wasn't very interested in the details of any business but her own, but this was something he needed to explain.

"Usually, when men fight together, warbands are forged from some sort of common loyalty or interest. They're from the same village, or know each other from somewhere else, and they gather under a leader they have all personally accepted in some way, be it for gifts, heið or personal respect. You don't become the leader of a hundare without the support of the þing, and you don't get to keep your rowers if they don't accept you as their steersman."

She nodded. It would seem this was all familiar to her.

"This whole company is pretty much an idea that Helgi had. You see, many men drift past down the rivers. Sometimes small groups of luck-seekers stay behind when the big expeditions turn homewards again, sometimes the survivors of raids gone wrong never care to find a way back home, and sometimes it's simply two brothers with dreams of earning gold in Miklagard, who stay a while to see if anyone is willing to reward them for a bit of fighting. All these rootless young men in search of adventure form groups that are way too small to organise efficiently, if you seek to form any sort of kingdom."

Eskil took a deep breath. She seemed to follow. At least she didn't look like she had drifted off yet.

"Helgi is well travelled. He was born in Holmgard, but has spent some time in the regional army of Thrace, and was inspired by the way the Greeks form companies of foreign mercenaries. So he decided to give it a try, and hand-picked me to lead it. That means that instead of two long hundred men lead by their own steersmen, who in turn have chosen to follow me, I have everything from lone wolves to entire ship crews lead by informal leaders who have never met me before."

He sighed. "In terms of a real warband, I have twenty and nine men, Ulfrik has twenty and four. The loyalty of the rest depends on their impression of me as a man strong enough to lead, and he works hard to undermine that in every way he can find. This means…"

Here came the point.

"...that you can't be seen running around unguarded. Not only because of rumours of what you're out to do, not only because it looks like I'm careless about my honour, but also because you are a target. Taking your enemy's women for yourself is the oldest move in warfare."

He paused for effect, but there was no emotion in her face, no sign that his words had moved her in any way.

"Truth is, I can't be seen caring much about you at all outside of safeguarding your honour, because we don't want any more whispers about how you have wrapped your hair around my dick and have me trailing behind you like a dog."

He sought her gaze to no avail. Did she listen? Had he managed to drive the point home? Eyes turned down, she finally nodded.

"I know. I understand. At least I think I do. But I will have things I need to do, not only chores and household duties. I will be expected to be available when the Kniaz calls, and this afternoon, Kniahynia Ingvida sent a messenger here, telling me I would be welcome to seek her company tomorrow. I don't think it's a good idea to… not."

So, it had begun. Just as Audvard had predicted.

"I don't mean you can't walk around. But you will have to bring Thogard, and…" He smiled. "I have seen you play the queen. That face you wore when you asked Isidor what he had to offer in payment for your story, or when you stood in judgement over poor Thorven in Smaleskia. The cold harpy who twisted my arm to accept Andronikos, the furious shrew who called me a coward for not riding your myth… That's the Kildevi I want to see whenever you leave the house."

Leaning closer, he took her hands and looked her straight in the eyes.

"I want you to walk into my camp, with my housecarls around you, like an ice queen of fury - and yet yield to me. You think you can do that?"

She was sniggering now. That was probably a good sign, because she nodded and glanced up at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"If you pretend I'm a queen, I'll yield to you, my king. But my knees won't bend. I may serve kings, I don't belong to them."

"No deal, then. You're mine."

"Since we're married, I guess I could make an exception."

Relieved by the banter, Eskil turned serious again.

"Now that you know why, I need you to tell me exactly how Ulfrik reacted to you. Did he understand who you were?"

Kildevi thought about it, mischief gone from her face.

"I don't think he realised I really was your wife until Thogard said he'd bring me back to my husband. But he was definitely probing to find out, and…"

She hesitated, face a sullen frown.

"...and?"

"At first he thought I was your daughter."

It really took everything he had to keep a straight face. That was hard enough as it was, and it didn't get easier when she stomped her foot.

"It's not funny!"

"It is, though. Funny. It is funny."

It was a good thing he'd grown more or less impervious to her murderous glares, because the look she gave him now was one of her better ones.

"I'm glad you can find joy in my ignominy."

"Think of it like this: he must have thought me man enough long before any woman did."

"He called me fresh-faced!"

"Yet another good reason to kill him, I'll add that to the list."

"I did some counting. If he thought you were three times ten and two, and I was sixteen, it would have been fully possible. But I refuse to be sixteen!"

So much affront. He had no other choice but to run with it.

"I promise that you're not sixteen. I remember you at seventeen, and by the gods, you have grown old since then."

"I have a child, and have been married twice and buried one husband!"

"I know, it's so unfair, when you're practically a hag!"

"I don't look like sixteen, I have hips now!"

"Hips? Tell me more, I'm intrigued!"

"Everyone with eyes can see that I'm well out of girlhood!"

"I don't think this is a claim best confirmed by sight, I would really need to feel for myself to be convinced."

"Stop teasing me!"

"No man can talk and kiss at the same time."

"If I kiss you, will you kill him for me?"

"Gladly."

 

[Alvlin]

Kniahynia Ingvida, sister of Isidor and second among her peers, was housed with the Kniaz and the rest of his consorts in the chieftain's hall. To escape being crowded by competition, she had taken up a court of her own in one of the smaller houses around it. Two scions sat outside the door of the timbered house, both of them clearly from prosperous families, their equipment fit for a courtly function. When Kildevi approached with Thogard and Ina in tow, one of them politely rose.

"Volkhva, we have word to let you in, but you will have to leave your housecarl and… Ina?"

The surprise in his voice was clear as day. Ina graciously tilted her head in something between a bow and a nod.

"Milosh, how are you faring?"

"Can't complain, life goes on. It's good to see that yours does too. We only have word to welcome Vǫlu-Kildve, but we will send for your housecarl and … apprentice? at your word, seeress."

The scion clearly didn't know which one of them he was speaking to. No one helped him gain any clarity in who Ina was in all this, and as she entered the dwelling, Kildevi saw Thogard and Ina head back towards their borrowed house. Milosh would have to keep guessing.


Kildevi was shown through a main room and further into the house. The dwelling was small, simple but well kept, and Kildevi wondered where the family who usually lived had gone to make way for the Kyivan court. Inside the main room, the scion knocked on a door, which opened into a room with a loom.

It was a stark contrast to the main house outside. Lamps were lit, a window opened to let in the bleak daylight, the formerly simple room furnished with richly carved benches covered with furs. In a half circle around a brazier sat four women, two with needlework in hand. The fifth was standing with her back to the door, bent over the shoulder of a honey blonde girl in a woad blue silk cap who looked to be the only one below twenty.

To call them richly dressed was meaningless. This was a consort of a merchant prince, in the company of her closest companions.

The woman who now turned was older than Kildevi by some ten years, but the features that gave her brother his strange and discordant beauty had in her face found perfect balance, its length giving character, the width of her cheekbones merely accenting the large and wide set eyes. Her stature came as no surprise to anyone who had met Isidor, but it was a rare thing for Kildevi to meet another woman's eye without looking down.

"Seeress… It is hard to know how to greet you, as a volkhva - or the lion's wife? But I suppose it depends on which role one wants you to fill."

With that, she bowed her head in greeting.

"Welcome, as both seeress and lioness."

The youngest of her four companions suppressed a giggle, and Ingvida's gaze leapt to the blushing youngster in an instant.

"Can you please explain what amuses you, Rozalia?"

The young woman looked as if she suddenly saw the floor open up before her, and swallowed.

"Nothing, Kniahynia."

"Remember that only the fool and the trickster will make mock of their betters. Tell me, niece, are you a fool, or a trickster?"

"Neither, Kniahynia."

"No. You are of my blood, and we don't breed fools and tricksters. What would your husband say if I told him how you laughed at the Volkhva? Do you think he would be proud of your low wit? Because I believe that you would have some explaining to do, and I am not sure that he would listen."

Kildevi saw Rozalia cower, and no wonder. It took all that she had to keep her own mask on as mere audience to the onslaught, and Kildevi was certain that had she been in Rozalia's place, tears would have started to roll down her cheeks any moment now. Ingvida took her time, closely watching her niece, and just as the silence started to grow truly uncomfortable, she continued.

"Since you don't have a mind for anything but the basest of things, we will no longer say lioness, we will say the lion's wife. Will that help your composure?"

Without waiting for a reply, she smiled at Kildevi and sat back on a bench, casually draping her arm along the back.

"Please, come sit with me. My niece is merely young, not disrespectful. It has fallen on me to shape her."

"I did not take it as disrespect, just a young woman showing mirth. There is no need to be stern for my sake."

"So it may be, but tell me Seeress, did any of us truly enter marriage fully formed to the role we would have to play?"

Not sure what else to do, Kildevi shook her head and sat down on the bench at what she hoped was an appropriate distance. The queen leaned closer in a relaxed familiarity, her stance a striking contrast to just a moment before.

"I can see from your choice of husband you won't be here to gain the prince's favour. That will make our relations much easier. We are both women with husbands that are often pursued, be it for very different reasons. But we, we are not each other's competition."

Kildevi wondered if Ingvida was stating a fact, stating a wish, or stating a question. She decided to confirm, just to be on the safe side.

"I agree that I am not in any way here to snare the Kniaz, or any other man for that matter, but please, I am curious as to how you knew?"

Ingvida sat turned to her as if they were alone, the other four women mere observers. It was seductive, the way she spoke as if they were peers.

"Brother Isidor favours your husband. They cooperate well. They are also both men who wear their quality well visible on their faces. Fate has marked them with beauty, and as you know, many believe a flawless shell must contain a flawless thought, with a flawless character. Beauty is the mark of greatness."

Suddenly the smile turned mischievous.

"Lucky for many of us, not only is beauty perceived as greatness, but the great will also be perceived as more beautiful. Believe it or not, but when Ingvar chose me to seal our alliance, I was an awkward roe. Well hidden by the queen, you can still find a long faced deer."

With a quick gesture and turn of head, Ingvida continued her monologue.

"But, a man like that, you must have chosen for yourself. No father finds his daughter a humble hero if bigger fish is on the table, which tells me this is not your first marriage. You have gone through one husband and come out of it strong enough to find who you wanted for your future and bind him, by whatever means you found necessary. That is not a woman who would make the old snake trail along behind her all the way from the Greeks, only to throw both him and her husband away to pursue the fickle interest of a prince."

It was fascinating to hear the conclusions drawn when not all facts were known. The woman described sounded so… in control. As if she had known exactly what she was doing all along and not at all been tossed around like a mitten in a storm. For once, Kildevi didn't protest the claim of seduction by magic.

And the idea that she had been the one playing a winning game against Ormgeir, making him follow her around at her beck and call, was frankly wonderful. Completely unreasonable, but a so much nicer description than reality ever was.

"And you, Kniahynia?"

"I am not a woman who would throw away a prince for the fickle attentions of my brother's protege. We are both best off where we already stand. Thus, I believe we shall both be able to be ourselves in each other's company. "

No. That was a terrible idea. There would be no being herself here.

"I do too."

"Please, when we are alone among friends, call me Ingvida."

"And when I do, you will call me Kildevi."


Rozalia kept a downcast silence for a while, but holding her tongue didn't seem to come naturally to her. Soon, she and Borghild, a square faced woman with quick wit married to someone Kildevi had no idea who he was, kept up a running conversation about cats that was as substanceless as it was entertaining. The young Rozalia avoided looking at her most of the time, though, and Kildevi tried to discern if that had to do with the scolding she had received from Ingvida or something else. It didn't seem to be fear of magic, because the few times their eyes actually met, the young woman never flinched.

"Speaking of the fickleness of cats, you must have deeper insights than any of us, Seeress," Borghild said. "After all, a disciple of Froya, married to a lion, biting the head off snakes while wearing a cat lined hood and stole… You must have a good hand with cats, and my most beloved feline chews on silk. Silk. Not wool, not linen, not hemp or fur, only silk. If my husband knew, she would become a lining in a silk coat of her own, so I have to make her stop before he finds out."

"You are sacrificing silk? For a cat? Most people would sacrifice a cat to get their hands on silk!"

"Of course, dear Rozalia! She is by far the most beautiful creature in our household, and I have very beautiful children."

Kildevi laughed and was about to reply when they were interrupted by a knock on the door, and the scion named Milosh opened.

"Kniahynia," he said with a small bow and stepped aside.

Behind him stood Ormgeir, dressed in the woollens he'd sported during the journey north with the convoy. He looked strangely out of place, a giant in a henhouse, bending his head to even look through the door frame.

"Kildevi," he said with a nod. "Ingvida, I hope you don't mind if I steal your guest before she heads back. I have a favour to ask."

It clearly wasn't a question.

Ingvida turned, looking at her with raised eyebrows.

"What do you say, Kildevi? Do you want to do Ormgeir a favour?"

Kildevi took her time. Emboldened by momentarily being the one with the power of decision, she replied.

"I don't think I owe Ormgeir any favours. And I know for certain what my husband would think about me wandering off alone with a man not his own. Tell me, dearest Ingvida, what would you have done in my position?"

"I would have taken the chance to make him owe me a favour. And about wandering off…"

The queen looked to the door again, where Ormgeir stood, still courteously not entering.

"...I would say that depends on where, and what kind of favour. Where do you plan to bring her, Ormgeir?"

It was a true joy and satisfaction to see just a smidgeon of annoyance in a face that usually sported such infuriating confidence.

"The paddock. A favour for an old friend."

"Then, I would say yes. Not much a husband might protest takes place in the open. If you want to be on the safe side, maybe bring his wife along?"

Ormgeir looked to the young woman who sat on a bench, round cheeked and rosy, hazel eyes downcast again.

"I think Rozalia is better off here with you, Ingvida. She wouldn't want to interfere."

Rozalia looked ready to protest, but bit down and stayed silent.



The path down the fields towards the tree line was frozen, but the cold was dry, the frost barely visible unless looked for. Winter grass grazed to barren ground, the traces of animal husbandry were everywhere, a landscape shaped by sheep and cows.

The narrow path was not made for twenty riders, but the stocky horses kept a steady tolt even on the rough ground of the fields around it. Eskil had brought every man with a steed to mount, and his own stables were emptied, with Audvard on the gelding Kildevi had borrowed from Bjarni when they left. Ina had been reluctant to part with her own mare, but had finally given in, on the condition that Thore would be the rider. She seemed to like and trust him more than the housecarls.

Not that Eskil would dream of putting Thogard on a mare used to carrying a bite sized woman. His little brother might have tried all kinds of things, trusting himself to note every single clue from every single horse without fail, but Eskil was no horse whisperer. He erred on the side of caution.

They were not expecting a fight, simply scouting out the path ahead before the court would move on to the next village large enough to house them. There had been no signs of warbands, and twenty men was a large enough number to deter small groups of raiders or adventurous farmers. Still, there was tension. He knew well where it came from.

Ulfrik was vastly outnumbered, only three of his men among the full twenty, but not all of the rest were among Eskil's own trusted. There were Thore and Audvard, Eirik and Thorven, Eymund and Gunvar. He didn't know Gunvar all that well, but he was an experienced steersman in his own right and both Audvard and Thore vouched for him. That was more than good enough.

It was close to noon when Ulfrik came riding up at Eskil's side.

"I met your wife yesterday," he said casually. "Didn't look that scary to me, throwing her arms around me and all. Seemed a bit hungry."

"Yes, she thought you were me," he replied. "You couldn't recognise a wife's devotion when it spat you in the face. Are you even married, or did you avoid that duty?"

Ulfrik gave a low chuckle, but it didn't express any mirth at all.

"I am no fuþflogi, but she's where she should be, back home, raising my sons."

"You should go back to them while they're all still yours. If I had to look at your face every night, I'd take every opportunity to look at something better."

"We can't all be smooth-skinned and white-ar….med."

"I hear you're talking about your wife again," came Thorven's happy voice from behind. "Cause I don't remember her as either smooth-skinned nor white-arsed."

Eskil hadn't considered that they were riding right in front of the man with the shortest path between mind and mouth he had ever met.

He could see the battle in Ulfrik, clear as day. He hadn't planned to bring this to an actual fight, not now, not out here. He wanted a crowd to witness. Still… He needed no witnesses to take down Thorven, and he was a short man with a wide grin. It wouldn't seem like much of a risk to take.

On the other hand, he had little to win, and plenty to lose by that fight. And short men sporting wide grins sometimes looked that happy because they knew they could twist your balls into a knot and make you choke on them, all without breaking a sweat.

After a long, tense moment, the Roden steersman let out a bellowing laugh.

"Your tiny man is funny."

"Not tiny everywhere…"

You could never go wrong with a vulgar joke.



The horses belonging to the Druzhina had created a logistical nightmare, or so Kildevi had picked up from pure observation. Some men were housed in dwellings with stables of their own, some had simply brought their steeds into the houses or had them lodged with cows and pigs. Most of the steeds roamed pastures usually occupied by cows and sheep.

Still, it was a lot of horses. And, even more so than with people, you couldn't just throw them together and hope it would work out. Kildevi didn't know where Ormgeir had his household, nor how provisions were made for their horses, but it couldn't be too far away.

"So, who is this old friend who needs help?"

"I'll introduce you. He's not hard to handle, but he doesn't budge to young hotheads, and yesterday, one of them got lucky."

Ah, so the friend was a horse.

"How lucky?"

"I found a small wound on the gaskin and he has a mild limp. Ten years ago, I wouldn't have worried much, but he's not a youngling anymore. I would be grateful if you sang over him."

Kildevi missed Anund. It was hard to say no to helping a horse.


Just as she suspected, the paddock was just a short walk away from the hall, a fenced area of hilly pasture where some twenty horses grazed, fuzzy in their thick winter coats.

"I see you are making new friends," he noted as they sauntered down the fence. "Ingvida is not a bad friend to have. Be careful, though. She is very strict about rank. Now, she would have you placed as an enigmatic figure in my sphere of interest, and she sat just a few seats away from us on midwinter. If she ever learns that you mend the socks of farmhands, her tone will change."

"And you are giving me advice on this, why?"

Ormgeir paused his stroll to lean against one of the fence posts framing the paddock.

"So suspicious? I took care to bring you to the attention of this court, of course it is my duty to guide you. I have grander visions than a fort on a hill with some boats in the docks. I can't allow the harpies to tear you apart for petty rivalries."

Kildevi looked out over the herd of horses. Or, was a herd the best word? These were animals who worked side by side, under different masters. A collegium of horses?

A grey steed came walking towards them at the sight of Ormgeir, a slight limp visible on the right hind leg. Kildevi wasn't surprised to find Ormgeir's horse one of the larger ones she'd seen, anything less would be a bad match to his rider, but she was surprised to find him so equanimous, almost phlegmatic, as he greeted his master with a low huff and a buff.

"This, is Steinfari. He was named as a joke once, but we stopped joking about you quickly, didn't we, old boy? Yet, the name stuck."

"Stone-fated?"

"Fated to be a stone. Big, grey and not going anywhere. Turned out, he simply needed to know it was going to be worth his while." Giving the horse a sideways smile, he added, "and I held the reins a bit too tightly back then. You didn't favour that, did you? Stubborn like your master."

Steinfari acknowledged her presence with disinterest, only briefly picking up her smell before turning his muzzle back to Ormgeir. Kildevi dug her freezing fingers into the mane, and the stallion kindly allowed her to thaw them in return for scratches.

There was something disarming about having the horse between them. With Steinfari there, some of the tension slowly seeped from air to earth, sinking away into the ground.

Thus, it was more from reflection than any real wish to challenge him that Kildevi said: "You know, half of the times we meet, you raise me up to help you build a kingdom, the other half, you simply try to bribe me down into your bed. You should make up your mind. Which one is it?"

Ormgeir kept his eyes on the horse, but his brow rose and the face stretched into a smile.

"Oh, those are not in opposition. I simply believe that the comfort of a warm bed is the best place to build a kingdom. Thoughts and words flow more freely with your advisor on your arm, and loyalties are built in the aftermath. There is a reason a royal concubine can be more powerful than a forgotten queen."

He sounded sardonic, but there was a truth in there. She knew well enough how much her own marriage depended on them laying together for her to not want to strangle him, closeness taking the edge off her temper. It was frankly a wonder Eskil had survived the sea crossings.

For some reason, she had never considered that men also might grow bonds from the act.

Kildevi bought herself some time by reaching in to scratch Steinfari all the way down to the wither. Leaning over the fence, she replied.

"I have found that thoughts flow more freely when you don't have to constantly parry attacks on your husband, who happens to take good care of all of those needs."

"You just gave me yet another reason to have him heading a campaign far, far away, somewhere he wouldn't dare to bring you."

Ormgeir turned his eyes away from the horse to shoot her a glance glittering with mirth. "Do you think he would turn down a small fleet to raid the Volga bulgars?"

She had no idea if he was serious or not.

"I think he would, if you were the one offering. You would have to convince Isidor first, and something tells me Eskil is as much a piece in the game between you and Isidor as I am in your game for Kyiv."

"Kyiv is no more than a hill."

Turning his attention back to his steed, he continued.

"Me and Isidor, we go way back, with many bonds and common goals between us. Did you know he's married to my eldest daughter? The best of them. The middle one is prettier, but the eldest - that girl has grown some balls." He shook his head, pride mingling with amusement. "Some of the moves she has made… Bold. Fearless. I almost regret giving her to him."

In that moment, Kildevi wished with every single part of her being that she had ever had a father to make proud. Grateful though she was, being fostered at seventeen, only to become a daughter by marriage within a season, wasn't the same.

Through the pang of longing, she quickly changed the subject.

"Do you think I have befriended him enough to have a look at that hind leg now? I really must be getting back."



"So, how did it go with Queen Ingvida?"

Eskil had come back late, and between getting something in their stomachs and cleaning up afterwards, they hadn't really had time to talk before going to bed. Now, tucked in between the skins, her head on his arm, Kildevi hesitated. How much honesty could she afford? She wasn't even sure which side would cost more - honesty or secrecy. For once, she decided to try extensive honesty.

"Good, I think. I met one of Ormgeir's wives, and Ingvida has some truly entertaining ideas about how much power and control I have had over my own fate, but it was a nice mirror to look in for a while. She confirmed that Isidor likes you, and that she has no intention to snare you, which implies someone else has, but I have no clue as to who."

She paused.

"I have a question, though…"

"Hm?"

"When Ingvida called me a lioness, Rozalia started to giggle, and I have no idea why, but the Kniahynia went through the roof telling her off."

The long silence was telling. If he hadn't known, he would have started throwing out suggestions and guesses by now.

"So, would you please explain to me why?" Kildevi said pointedly.

"Yes. No. I'd rather not."

"Eskil. You're not supposed to keep me ignorant anymore. We have moved past that, remember?"

Kildevi heard him clearing his throat next to her ear, and when he replied, it was slowly, and with carefully chosen words.

"It means, that someone has introduced Rozalia to the secrets of pleasure using Greek or Latin vocabulary."

"And…"

"And?"

"What is a lioness?"

"It's a… it's a position."

"What position?" She sighed. "You know, this is like prying a knife from the hands of a toddler."

"I would be much more comfortable showing than telling."

Oh no, he was not going to get out of this one by cheating.

"Tell me first, if it sounds interesting you can show me later."

"It's… it's mounting someone, like horses and dogs and… well, lions."

"Nothing worse? We've done that, long before our battle in Miklagard, was it on our second day married? Third? Why was that so hard to say?"

"I'm not… comfortable, talking about these things with someone I'm also doing them to. And I don't want you to giggle every time someone calls you my lioness."

Kildevi saw little cause to talk about the details of such things with anyone she didn't share a bed with, but also didn't feel like delving down into the depths of why he felt differently.

"Oh well, if you already are uncomfortable, I might as well tell you I also sang a galdr over Ormgeir's horse, and now he owes me a favour."



Two days later, it was time to move on. The next village was almost the same as the one they left behind, but it was slightly larger. This time, their house had a bathhouse it shared with two other dwellings, one of which was the village blacksmith. The smithy stood wall to wall with the bathhouse, and on top of the usual banya, there was a tub to be filled with water heated from the forge.

Since they left Kyiv, she'd noticed how Eskil tried to walk the thin line of getting to know Ina without making it look like he was making advances. At least that's what Kildevi thought it was. It was hard to say. Either way, the whole thing seemed awkward and fraught with pitfalls.

"You don't know what to do if you're not supposed to seduce her, do you?" she'd asked, beaming with schadenfreude. "It's like you can't help yourself. That is so interesting. It's like, small talk works fine, but the moment you get more familiar than that, you have to sit on your hands to not escalate things, so you fall back on keeping a courteous distance. Our whole engagement makes sense now!"

"I tried to be considerate and respectful, and this is what I get? Gleeful mockery?"

"You should ask Thore for instruction, he's really good. We've spoken many times on a wide range of subjects and he hasn't made a single advance!"

He hadn't shown her any great appreciation for either the insight or the advice.


Speaking of Eskil, he had done his share of grumbling over Ormgeir approaching her for favours behind his back, but not as much as she had feared. He obviously had other things pressing on his mind, and most of them seemed to be about making everyone with no previous loyalties bend toward him instead of Ulfrik. Whenever she had gone into the camps, she had made sure to do so in her full regalia, walking with a haughty stride, Thogard hovering behind her.

It was a fun game, Eskil pretty much ignoring her or greeting her with a curt nod between despotic commands, but it was also a brusque reminder of what life might have been like if she had been less fortunate in marriage.

Then again, she had leverage. She thought about Ormgeir not even greeting Rozalia as he entered, and promised herself to make sure her daughters, too, would have something, however small, to push back with. Especially if given to men both much older and more powerful.


In practice, Ina had taken over their travelling household the very moment they left Kyiv. It had taken Kildevi about a day to get used to someone else minding everything. All of a sudden, Lida knew what to do, evening meals were planned, and breakfast appeared by itself each morning. She gave a hand in cleaning up and made the preparations Ina asked her to do, but it was somehow assumed that she wouldn't do anything involving food or cleaning unless specifically told what.

That gave her plenty of time to take care of their clothes and appease the local dwellers. A grumpy old woman with a beak in her chicken-like face lived around the hearth and behind the cooking shelf, rustling like mice whenever she was hungry.

On the very first day, when Ina's spoon kept on disappearing all through the afternoon, Kildevi went straight to the source and called her out. The deal they made was simple: she or Ina would leave a piece of bread beneath the shelf each morning, and no more utensils would be stolen only to be found here and there in nooks and crannies. If only the Kikimora hadn't been a miserable old nag by nature, everyone would have been happy. As it was now, she was merely less discontent, which really was all anyone could hope for.

But the bath had no Bannik. Maybe he had gone somewhere else until his families came back?

"Good," Ina had said when Kildevi told her. "I already sleep in a room full of men, and before we left I hadn't even slept outside the loom room since the summer I was fourteen. At least it's nice to know there won't be a horny old gnome trying to sneak a peek while we're in the bath."



The men's camp had been built in a meadow, separated from the village by a thin strip of open woodland. The paths were well travelled, worn into the ground by the Slavs herding their cows and sheep to pasture. In keeping with the rules he had set up for Kildevi,. Eskil had made a habit of bringing a few men wherever he went. Today he had Thore, Eirik and Audvard at his side, with Eymund and Thorven in tow.

As the woodland opened up into the camp, the path became a road of sorts, cutting through the sprawl of tents like the main street of a village. The men from Roden had set up camp just at the edge of the forest. When Eskil passed with his posse this mid-morning, Ulfrik stood with a handful of men, keeping their shoemaker company. As usual, the conversations died out as they approached, and they passed the group of men in tense silence.

A few paces past, Eskil heard Ulfrik spit behind him.

"Fuþleikir."

The word was muttered, but loudly enough to be meant to be heard. Laughter spread through the Roden men. As Eskil turned to face them, his own gathered in a half circle behind him.

Ulfrik was unarmed. Without a word, Eskil loosened his scabbard from the belt strap and handed it to Thore.

"Say that to my face, pighead."

Ulfrik looked over his shoulder before he also turned, insultingly slow. Neither of them had to take each other's measure. They'd both done that several times already.

"I called you a cuntfiddler, cleanface. You rub them off before they ride you, cause you're too limp to fuck like a man."

So, this was it. Finally, fighting words.

"If you didn't look like an ugly me, I'd fuck you raw," he replied. "Like my father fucked your whore of a mother after the dog was done."

They had slowly sauntered closer and closer during the exchange. When Eskil reached a spot where the path in front of him was on uneven ground but he himself had good footing, he stopped and let Ulfrik come to him.

"Your wife didn't notice the difference until I spread her legs. Took some force to get in, hadn't been used for so long."

This time, Eskil didn't care to reply. Both had uttered insults that could force a trial unless they took the fight. Words had already served their purpose.

They looked each other's match, about the same range, the same height. He had a little more mass, Ulfrik looked slightly more agile. The world had begun to slow down, his rage a white hot pin at the centre of a calm focus.

Keep talking, goatsucker. Two more steps…

"She hadn't been properly fucked since the crews took turns at the barracks, when you were busy sucking some Greek…"

Mid-sentence, Eskil's short, centred jab connected to Ulfrik's face with a satisfying snap of crushed cartilage. His left followed.

Neither of them would have stopped at first blood, so he didn't.

---

An afterword on words: This part contains two culturally important insults, both to do with reproductive anatomy.

Fuþflogi - cunt-fleer if translated literally, is a derogatory word for a man who avoids marriage. Not women in general, but the specific duty of forming and heading a reproductive unit with one.

Fuþleikir - direct translation cunt-player, but the word leik (ON)/lek (S) just covers the non competitive meaning of play, not f.ex. playing a game. Kids "leker", soccer players don't. That made it clumsy to describe, so I changed it in the main text. Fun fact: Not always used as an insult. The word has been carved into 13th century rune sticks found in Norway in a manner more reminiscent of bragging than anything else.

Also, the things Ulfrik and Eskil says to each other are quite toned down and well tempered compared to a few of the sagas. No arseholes are open up to the shoulders, and that's a bar set right there.

 

[Alvlin]

CW: This chapter has several discussions and mentions of sexual violence in the contexts of honor, war crimes and domestic abuse. It's all very casual, which may or may not make it worse. Your mileage may vary.

I also want to say that this 2-parter has turned into a 3-parter. My characters talk an awful lot. Sorry 'bout that.

---

"Killing him isn't enough."

Eskil looked up, and Kildevi noted how both Thore and Eirik glanced at her, waiting for what they knew would come.

"Killing him only clears your name, it's not revenge. Death itself is no deterrent to men who are not afraid to die."

"So, what do you suggest I do?"

She shrugged.

"Rape him, kill him, leave his seed-stained corpse in the snow for everyone to see."

Seemingly at a loss for words, Eskil stared at her for just a moment before he replied.

"Last time I had to defend my name, you were trying to stop me from killing. Now, death suddenly isn't enough?"

Kildevi looked at him, calm as she took in the well known face. It showed few traces of the fight earlier that day. Scabs had already formed over a scrape down the right side of his cheek and forehead, and his lower lip was a bit swollen, probably from his own teeth as he'd hit the ground. If he was in pain anywhere, he didn't show it. When the fight had been broken up by Ulfrik's men, Eskil was the only one standing.

Sounding as calm and detached as she felt, she replied.

"That time, I knew you wouldn't kill him, and the slight was known to me alone and never meant to undermine you. This time, I have no knowledge of fate to lean on, and his goal is to tear you down and humiliate you. Even though he never used the word, he called us both argr in front of witnesses. I simply expect you to show them that you're capable of doing what you have to."

She looked at the others. Thore was thin lipped, Thogard unreadable. Eirik met her eyes and nodded, slowly.

"She's right. Especially since there is a kernel of truth in what he said."

So, Eirik would be her ally in this. For some reason, it fit.

"Fuck if there is," Thore growled.

At some point past Berezan island, Thore's famed friendliness had grown slightly less friendly toward Eirik.

"No! I'm not saying he's right, I'm just saying… he did give her free rein walking around the barracks of St Mamas, and we all know she's on top sometimes. Lies based on something are worse than lies based on nothing. If you've decided you want your wife to be her own man, you will need to fight for it."

Eskil's reply was interrupted by a knock on the door, and a heartbeat later, Thorven walked in.

"I think you guys have been talking too long," he said without preamble. "Because Ulfrik and his men are gone with their horses and luggage. And there is another thing too."

"What?"

"Hrafn seems to have gone with them."


Eskil paused. Everyone else sat silent, looking at him.

"And Hroar?"

"Still here. He's camped with the men from the Norunda hundare."

Eskil nodded, then half turned to his wife.

"So, if I die here, at least you know where to go."

He didn't even know why he said it, and regretted it the moment the words passed his lips, but he was angry. Still bitter she hadn't told him about the proposal, and that he himself had been so stupid he'd let her stay behind in St Mamas without clear instructions to the housecarls to keep her under guard.

And why had she decided to run around the barracks of almost two long hundred men without a care to cover her back? Not a single thought in her mind about the risks to both her person and her reputation.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he also had to confess that he hadn't been prepared for her freedom to be used against him. His mother had never been confined anywhere, she had moved freely within a one day ride from home without a stain to her or her husband's name. His concerns had been about what could happen, not what could be whispered. That was a nasty surprise that honestly had him a bit rattled.

But mainly, he was angry about the whole situation. This was why wise men kept their families home, unless they actually moved between homes. He was fed up with the challenges brought by her being here. Ormgeir singling him out because he was after her was one thing, Ulfrik smearing her name to get to him... Somehow that was worse. And let's not even get started on the challenges she herself threw in his face at every given opportunity.

Eirik's words rang true. If you've decided you want your wife to be her own man… That did not sound like a decision he had ever made, just acted on. Not to mention what it looked like from the outside, if a man that the men were supposed to trust and follow couldn't even keep his own wife in line.

Not willing - or ready - to take back his comment in front of everyone, he simply went on.

"You and Ina will stay inside unless called by me, or by someone high enough at court to not be refused. No wandering around, no visits, no errands. If something's needed, you send the thrall. Audvard and Thore, you'll stay behind with them, make sure Kildevi doesn't disappear as soon as I'm out of earshot. And Audvard, remember you're my man until we return. You take your orders from me, not her."

"Eskil, what are you doing?"

He heard the alarm in her voice and steeled himself.

"Correcting a wrong."

"You can't just lock me inside, not now!"

"Watch me."



When the door had closed behind Eskil, Eirik and Thogard, Kildevi sat staring down at the table, trying to get her mind in order.

"Thore, can you explain what just happened?"

Thore turned to her, looking equal parts stern and tired.

"What you did in St Mamas had consequences that we didn't know about until now."

"It was just a comment! They threw insults at each other, it shouldn't have more weight than the claim that Ulfrik's mother fucks dogs!"

He sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Think about it like this: Ulfrik wouldn't even have known about it, unless there already was talk that could have reached him. Like Eirik said, a little bit of truth is worse than none."

"But I didn't do anything! I sang over wounds and wrapped swelling joints, and sometimes I stayed to talk to people."

She heard the exasperation in her own voice. The whole thing seemed unreal, as if there must be some misunderstanding somewhere.

"You did it alone, and that works great if you're in a place where everyone knows and likes you. It works less great if there is anyone, anywhere, out to get you. And it's not just about reining you in for the sake of slander, it's also to make sure you and Ina aren't turned into spoils of war. Getting his hands on you would drive Ulfrik's point all the way home."

Kildevi felt herself slump, and glanced to the side where Ina sat with her needlework, clearly listening.

"It makes perfect sense protecting Ina by keeping her out of sight. But what he is doing is to take away my ability to do something, anything, to help. I suspect he's doing it on purpose because he would rather lose a feud than let me help him win. And that…" She shook her head. "...that is not something I can accept."

"If it makes you feel better, it's not on purpose. He probably hasn't thought about using your knowledge to his advantage."

"How can he not?! That's why he wanted me in the first place!"

Now, Thore chortled, the stern facade broken.

"I don't doubt he found your powers impressive, or that it flattered his sense of importance to have a wife like the heroes of myth and legend, but ask yourself: has he ever asked you to do any magic for him, at all? Because from what I've seen, he's mainly used it to explain why you're not like other women."

Kildevi thought about it.

"Well yes, he has. But only in matters of… In marital matters."

In the corner of her eye, she noticed Ina look up in a moment of disbelief before she quickly returned to her work. Thore also gave her a strange look, but continued after a moment's pause.

"What I'm aiming at is that he isn't used to thinking about you as a tool to use against other men. He seems to have this line drawn between the life where the sun is up and there is love and play and poems, and the life where all the violence, power and manoeuvring happens. Guess which one you belong in."

Kildevi sighed.

"But that's not how the world works. And he needs me. I need me, my family needs me to do what I was born to - and I can't do that locked in a crowded dug-out. I could… I don't know. I can't see much of Eskil's fortune, but I could probably damn the pox-scarred arsehole with bad luck and have a maere ride him with sickness. And I'm not talking about the violent but harmless little taste Eskil got when something possessed me after Ilmen."

Brow furrowed in thought, she considered her options, not placing any weight on how Thore's eyes had widened slightly at her last sentence.

"I guess I could call a little bit of luck from here, but I will do that knowing that my hands are tied just because someone made a claim about his manhood that's frankly easy to prove wrong. It's infuriating!"

"I'm afraid this isn't something that can be solved by disproving a claim. The only way to bury those words and save face is by payment in blood. Not to mention that Ulfrik will need to strike back hard to show that Eskil didn't win more than the fight."

"I know. But it's still infuriating."

They sat silent for a while, Thore looking thoughtful while she brooded.

"You know what," he finally said. "Accept it for a day or two, give him time to cool off and yourself time to be smart. I'll mention that it would be good to know luck is on our side. And then, when every little give doesn't feel like an attack on his authority anymore, you gently remind him that there are things you can do to help that he can't, because he's a man, not in spite of it."

"That sounds reasonable and tactically sound."

"So you're not gonna do it, then?"

"I'll try. I really will."


When the men came back, the evening stew had been simmering since dusk, and the four who had remained in the house had long since finished their dinner. Ina went on to serve them. Kildevi wasn't sure if she could have done it herself without her emotions leaking all over the place. Instead, she sat in a corner with her tablet weave and let her hands work at a task that was exactly demanding enough to keep the mind occupied, yet never become a challenge.

Ina hadn't commented much on the situation. She had no great problem with the confinement, and confessed in a whisper that she was equal parts scared and excited about the whole thing.

Kildevi was neither. As the first day passed, she was thrown between anger and despair, until she finally started to settle into some sort of determined acceptance. Like Thore said, she would have to give him a day or two to calm down. She could take two days inside. She could handle two days in a cage. She could be patient, and smart, and let it all play out at its own pace.

But she wouldn't be able to smile and serve while she did so, and Eskil hadn't made any sign that he even noticed her presence. While he spoke with the housecarls in a low voice, and treated Ina as if nothing had happened, Kildevi was left to go through her evening without a comment or even a greeting.


She had already made ready for the night and crawled down into their bed when Eskil finally walked over and started to unpin his tunic. There was still a tension in his neck and shoulders, and he pulled the garment over his head with sharp, jerking movements before carefully folding it.

"You'll sleep with Ina tonight."

His voice was exactly as raw as she had expected from both his stance and his silence.

"Why?"

"Because. I'm not trusting myself to be the husband I want to be. So I want you gone."

Kildevi sat silent for a moment, looking up at him. Then she simply said: "No."

Now he turned, finally looking at her.

"I don't remember giving you a choice."

"Interesting word there. Choice."

There was a tiny thing screaming in her belly, and the memory of a moth fluttering in her chest, but she didn't allow either to show. She didn't allow either to matter.

"You see, from where I sit, this looks much like my nightmare at the Eyfor, terrifying and carrying a grain of truth, but not always in the way we think. What are you afraid you'll do? Kill me?"

"Of course not."

"Beat my head into the bedframe until I'm too weak to put up a struggle?"

Eskil paused again to stare at her. He did not seem prepared for that reminder.

"No. But knowing that happened is a good reason in itself."

Propped up on her elbow, Kildevi laid down on her side with her head in her hand.

"Then I'm not going anywhere. I choose to stay."

Jaw tense, he shook his head.

"It's been a rough day. Don't make it harder for me."

"I'm not. I'm saying that if that's what you need, you don't have to hold back."

She watched as he unlaced and stepped out of the wide trousers, almost ritually folding them to put them away, before he started to unknit his hose, all while the silence hung like a heavy fog around him. When the first hose came off, he finally replied.

"I've promised to never lay my hands on you that way."

"I don't think it counts if I choose it myself."

Fiddling with the second hose, he still hadn't looked up. Instead his eyes focused on the garters while he spoke.

"What if I forget what you are to me?"

"Then you'll remember when you wake up."

He pulled off the last hose and straightened. Kildevi saw him pause, hesitation and unease screaming from his stance.

"This is very awkward. No one has ever told me to brutalise them before."

"You know… I'm not saying you should. I'm simply saying that if you do, if your mind should slip and your rage seep in and you find yourself so fierce you become brutish, it's not Ragnarok. Because I was forewarned, it's a rare occurrence, and you let me choose to leave."

"It's not just me here. You deserve dignity in front of the rest of the household."

"The rest of the household can hear every word you say," came Thore's voice from the benches behind. "Thanks for the warning, but I'm gonna sleep soundly. How about you, Audvard? You worried she'll need saving?"

"Can't say I am, this time," came a half-sleeping mutter from Audvard. "But I liked th'sound of rage seepin' in. It had weight. Might use it someday."


"What were you doing last night?"

Ina kept her voice low, obviously not wanting the housecarls to overhear from across the room.

"You could have just come over to me, without provoking a man already upset, without risking yourself, without throwing yourself like a new challenge in his face. Because Thore and Audvard may not have been worried, but I was."

Kildevi hadn't thought about what Ina would hear from behind her sturdy curtains.

Eyes firmly fixed on the mending, she replied, "we both had fears we had to face."

"Did he slip?"

"A little. Not even close to what I was prepared for."

Ina shook her head, brow still showing a small furrow of worry.

"I don't understand. You, I mean. I don't understand why, or even what. It seems like such a meaningless stand to take."

It was hard to find an angle to explain something so complicated to someone so young. Even though Kildevi didn't agree with Bjarni's assessment of Ina as simple, she had been kept sheltered in a small, safe world of family, all strangers carefully vetted.

"I think," she finally said, "that fears have to be tested. Especially if they have been walled in somewhere out of sight and only show their ugly heads at times when you're already weakened."

She shook her head.

"I know he isn't a puppy. I have no illusions about what he has or hasn't done in war, and I think he believes that if he allows himself to let go, he'll do them to me. Which he won't. I'm not faceless, and he's not pumped up by chants, or fighting for his life, nor is he cheered on by brothers in a warband. He hasn't waded through a prison filled with slashed and burnt bodies to reach our bed. He won't be in a state where that fear is based on anything but fear itself."

"And you?"

"A part of me still expects him to become his brother if he gets furious enough. But Sigulf's violence was fuelled by me being important to him, Eskil's is hampered by it. My thought knows that, but my shell doesn't. It needs to learn the difference, little by little."

"His brother? What happened with his brother?"

Still calm, Kildevi smiled and shook her head.

"I don't want to awaken the past, but he was a worse husband. And," she added, changing the subject, "if Eskil had woken up alone this morning, he might have gone the whole day without even touching me, and could have been just as furious when he returned tonight. Now, we woke up skin to skin, that gave him a chance to remember what we have. He was almost his old self at breakfast, so it must have made some difference. It takes a lot of fury to rage at someone who hugs you in their sleep."


Noon had come and passed, when the monotony was broken by a knock on the door. Lida rose to open, and soon she returned and whispered something to Ina, who was the only one present who spoke Slavic with any fluency. Ina looked at the others.

"There is a man at the door, asking for Kildevi. Lida thinks he is one of the Druzhina. What do we do? Ask him in?"

"Wait," Kildevi quickly replied before Thore had the chance to talk. "Let me get myself a little more presentable. Tell Lida he will be welcomed in a moment."

Lida disappeared towards the door, while Kildevi frantically looked for her veils and added a second row of beads between her brooches.

A short while later, the thrall returned with a man dressed in a yellow tunic, his cloak a bright madder red. There was a sword at his belt, but no other weapons or armour. Kildevi recognised him. The last time she had seen him had been on a dark road outside St Mamas, when he had drawn his sword to ask her name as she approached.

So, he was Ormgeir's man. Now he halted in front of her where she sat on the bench, and made a deep bow.

"Vǫlu-Kildve. I have been sent to bring you to the hall."

He had now, had he?

"Whatever for?"

"It is not my place to know, Seeress. I simply have orders to bring you."

"Mhm."

She paused, taking her time to think, closely watching his face.

"Tell me, who exactly has asked you to fetch me? You see, I believe the Kniaz would use the scions, but you are not a scion, are you?"

"No, Seeress. Ormgeir has told me he wants your presence."

"So, your householder wants my presence. In the chieftain's hall. For unknown reasons. When he knows that my husband would be away. Interesting."

She pretended to think about it for a bit longer than strictly comfortable. Then, she simply said, "No. I don't feel like it."

It was a joy to see the disbelief on the housecarl's face. It was less of a joy to hear Ina drop her spindle. In the silence that followed, Kildevi heard it rattle against the floor as it rolled to a halt somewhere beneath the table.

"Kildevi, may I speak to you for a moment?" Ina said, voice tense, before she resolutely dragged her up from the bench and as far away into the house that she could.

"Have you gone completely mad!?" she hissed, more upset than she had been this far on the entire journey. "Are you trying to make yourself a target? We can't leave this house, remember? He will know exactly where to find you!"

"That is actually a good idea, thank you! "

Kildevi turned her heel and walked back to the waiting men before Ina had a chance to demand an explanation.

"You can tell him that if he has anything to offer he believes would be of interest to me, he knows where to find me. If I'm willing to receive him, that is. I can't promise anything. He's quite low on my list of priorities, so he may have to try a few times. Sometimes, I'm simply occupied, you know."

The housecarl stood, frozen in place. Then he started to chuckle.

"This is a joke, isn't it? Seeress, I'm sent to fetch you. You are wanted in the hall."

"I am also wanted in the underworld, but you don't see me skippity-skip down to Nav simply because an underling calls me, do you? No. Ormgeir can get in line behind the Lord of Boglands. I'm sure he's used to coming second by now."

Thoughtfully, she added, "and make sure to tell him exactly what I said. No softening excuses. There you go. Run along!"

"I'll see you out," Audvard said and rose.


As the door closed around them, Ina slumped down on the bench again.

"We are going to die," she proclaimed. "We are all going to die, and if you're really lucky, you will too."

"Nonsense."

Kildevi felt a pang of a bad conscience for the state Ina seemed to be in, but no more.

"This is our game, and no one in this household is unprotected. Attacking you would be an attack on Eskil, which in turn would make Isidor seriously cranky. Don't get me wrong, not blood-and-feud-cranky, but it seems unlikely that he would choose to step on Isidors toes if he could just as easily get to me directly."

"And," she added as an afterthought, "if Eskil is taking all of his frustrations out on me without a care in the world, it's only fair I pay it forward and heap it on to Ormgeir. A lot of these ill feelings stem from him to begin with anyway, so let him have a taste of what he has wrought."

Ina stared at her for a moment. When she spoke next, her voice had gone from proclamations to almost a whisper.

"Yes, he could just as easily get to you directly, and I for one have been waiting for that to happen for quite some time now. I don't understand where this bravado is coming from, I really don't."

She shook her head with such emphasis that the rings at her temples rattled.

"I've seen you scared of pronouncing my language wrong, but for some reason the idea that Ormgeir might decide to make an example out of you doesn't seem to rattle you. Most women and their families wouldn't dare a first refusal, and you simply keep on throwing that no in his face. Over and over and over again."

Kildevi met her eyes, and a bit of the overweening confidence melted away. With a grimace she leaned heavily down over the table.

"To be honest, I don't dare to stop. I actually suggested to Eskil it might be a wise move to just let me go to him, but he shut that down with emphasis. I have no other choice than to try to keep this up until we can continue our journey north."

Leaning back again, she took a deep breath and continued.

"When I first met him, I had no idea who he was. I thought he was some old merchant or boyar with good cheekbones who couldn't keep himself from flirting with the only free woman around, to prove he still had it. But he was charming, and I was flattered, so we sort of fell into this jargon of him flinging thinly veiled flirtation at me that I dodged and clapped back as well as I could. Once I realised who he was, and people started to tell me he was dangerous…"

She shrugged.

"I had already found myself alone with him and three of his men, on a dark road in the middle of the night on my way back from Miklagard, and was escorted back to empty lodgings. He could have done just about anything, with both time and opportunity to hide it or make it known as suited his end goals, but all he did was to make me a joking proposition and question why Eskil had left me alone."

Kildevi snorted.

"And to question that is a rather bold thing from a man who avoids being home because his four remaining wives annoy him."

About then, she realised that Ina was staring at her in disbelief, and Thore had his head in his hands.

"Wait… Neither of you knew about this?"

Thore raised his head again with a grunt and leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. Ina shook her head.

"You told me that you had gone into Miklagard behind his back to meet with a Greek wise woman who became your friend. You said nothing about coming back after dark, or that someone found out."

Now they both looked at Thore. His teeth looked visibly grit.

"No. I did not know that. Eskil told me you had been sneaking out behind his back to walk around the great city alone, and that Ormgeir was using that for leverage. He said nothing about how he had found out, only that you couldn't be left to stroll around alone anymore."

He rose and began to pace back and forth.

"Things are starting to come together now. I thought it was strange how someone like Ormgeir could grow so casual and familiar with you so quickly, even before I knew exactly who he was. But if he had taken a late night stroll with you, alone, through an empty St Mamas, even if he never did anything… that's not only leverage, that's… intimate. You might as well just have said yes to that joking proposition, it wouldn't have made much of a difference."

That was it. The last day - nay week - nay fortnight - had not been kind to her, and the thought of simply disappearing into the East Polan forests to reappear somewhere in the svear kingdoms - if she managed to get that far - started to seem better and better.

"Do you think I can correct that now, or am I too late?" she snapped. "Can I go knock on his door now and say: 'Oh, by the way, I didn't know back then it wouldn't have made a difference to anyone if you had me or not, but now that I know, I've changed my mind! Please, have a go! No one will care! Enjoy whatever you can, it's still not as bad as that secret stroll through an empty village six months ago.'"

Making a dramatic pause in her rant, she pretended to be struck by an idea.

"You know, I think I'll have to ask Eskil first. 'Ástin mín, Thore says I might as well just have fucked Ormgeir back in St Mamas, so I thought I'd go and do that now, you don't mind, do you?' And he would reply 'of course not, my no was only valid if you hadn't already screwed up, now you should take the chance to screw the entire village. We all know that is exactly how shame, trust and honour works!' Is that how you think that conversation would go?!"

"Are you done? No. Of course not."

"Good. Can you stop being his adjunct for a moment and just be my friend now?"

Thore shot her a murderous glare, but then he sat down and leant back with a sigh.

"I've only been your friend this whole time," Ina said, half forgotten in the background. "And I think we can't do anything about what has already happened. What we can do is make sure no one else hears about it, and at least it did give you a sense of what he wants from you. Obviously it isn't anything that he can take, since he didn't."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Thore replied. "It was still early days, and if you find a woman sneaking around alone at night without her husband's knowledge, you won't assume she'll be very steadfast in other loyalties either. And, you know… vǫlur."

Kildevi cocked her head, her face still furrowed in annoyance.

"You know, I don't. I don't know vǫlur, which is peculiar because I happen to be one. Could you please tell me what is expected of me?"

"You know… in stories the young ones are beautiful and terrible and irresistibly alluring and take the strength of men to use for their own purposes, and they bind the powerful by spells and are ever hungry and never tire and… things like that."

"I don't think I want to know what 'things like that' means in detail. Does Eskil know about this?"

"The few times it comes up, he looks unspeakably smug. But I'm not saying you are like in the stories. I'm just saying, all of that can shape a man's ideas about his chances the second time he meets a woman he has his eyes on. By now, Ormgeir will know better. Don't assume he won't be violent based solely on that time."

Ina looked hesitant. Her mind seemed to have been swayed away from doom by simply getting more facts to shape a hope around.

"Still… if all of this is about getting to her knowledge, force won't help."

"True, but if it's about taking badly to rejection…"

"He wants me to become his mistress behind the throne, some sort of shadow king and queen. His influence and experience led by my foresight and helped by my spells, uniting the princedoms into an empire on par with the Greek's. That's what he has more or less told me in plain speech."

Silence fell. Finally, Thore said, "shit".

"So, what are you going to do?" Ina asked.

Kildevi sank down on a bench.

"Not that, obviously. But apart from that, I have no idea."

 

[Alvlin]

"Thore!"

Laughter echoed from the doorway. Kildevi looked up from the sock she had been staring at for the last… while. At some point in the day before, when two full days had passed, time had started to lose its meaning. She had long since lost count of how many socks she had mended, or bound, or even sewn. But she knew that voice. It wasn't a voice she had expected to hear here.

"Don't worry old man, we're here to save you! Where is everyone?"

She knew that voice too, and a hot and cold rush flowed from her chest down into her belly.

"Kildevi and Audvard is here, we'll get you introduced to Ina. The others are out on the Kniaz' business, which probably means hanging around looking mean, so none of the villagers gets any ideas. Kildevi! Audvard! Look who's here!"

Kildevi was already on her feet when Jonar and Vibjorn walked in with Thore in tow. With them, they had two men she didn't know by name, but recognised from their journey south. One of them was the man who had challenged Thorven for disrespecting her in Smaleskia.

She saw Audvard rise to greet them, but the two she didn't know had halted, turned to her. From some five paces away, both lowered their heads in something just between a nod and a bow.

"Oh, yes. Kildevi, you know Vidar and Eystein, right?"

"Not by name, but by face I do. Welcome!"

The one Thore had pointed out as Vidar said:

"We're honoured to be here, Vǫlva. We are honoured to be called."

"I'm not," Jonar clarified. "I'm here because I've been promised to fight some east coasters, and because all of my mates were either here or stuck in a cunt. Sael, Kildevi. You look…" He paused mid-sentence and did a double take. "You don't look well, actually. You look like you did when you had the gutnish arseholes hanging around." Jonar looked around. "Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on here?"

The room fell silent. Kildevi half expected Thore to speak, but in this room, these men were all looking at her. Keeping her voice as neutral as possible, she finally said, "Eskil has decided I'm not allowed to leave the house."

For two heartbeats, silence reigned again, then Jonar turned to Thore.

"He's locked her in? Fuck!" There was real outrage in his voice. "We don't lock up free women, we're not fucking Franks!"

"You do if there are five and twenty Roden rowers out to get her that you don't know where they are."

"No you fucking don't. You tell her you want her inside, with this one he could've even offered to bring her along on whatever he's doing, but no one can forbid a free woman to leave her own house."

"Uhm, the Franks don't lock up their women," Vibjorn ventured.

"They don't? Then why don't you ever see married women around their towns?"

"You're thinking about the nuns. They're locked in by choice, to pray and not look at men. I think they're all married to the same god."

"See, not even the Franks, except for their god. Has anyone told the arsehole he's being a fucking disgrace?"

Kildevi raised her hand.

"I have."

"No one else? See, she's already more of a man than any one of you."

Kildevi glanced at Ina, who had stood silently by the kitchen shelf with her half-chopped vegetables, seemingly invisible. She looked wide eyed, disbelief shining from her face.

"That's rich, coming from the greatest arsehole Aslaug ever maimed," Thore replied. There was a rising rage in his voice, too. "You're not some fucking pillar of good conduct mate, so maybe you should shut up about other men's business."

"Yes, I'm a fucking arsehole, and not even I would lock my wife away. You agree with this shite?"

Thore took a deep breath, then slowly let the air seep out between his teeth.

"No. I don't. I think it's all the frustration from everything making him snap in the other direction. I thought he would come to his senses if we just gave him a day or two, but it's the third day now…"

He grimaced.

"I'll test the waters, see what floats."

"I should've done that," Audvard hummed. "But you test those waters better than me. If the watertestin' don't work, I'll try to give one of m'talks."


Thore had gone to tell Eskil of the men's arrival, and while he was away, Kildevi took the chance to introduce Ina as her friend and companion. She didn't mention anything about the engagement yet, unsure if that would be seen as yet another strike against her standing. It would be thoroughly unfair if anyone took a dislike to Ina simply out of misplaced loyalty.

Thogard had returned a while later to take Thore's place in the house, and tell the newcomers where they could find Eskil and their old mates from the convoy. Still thoughtful, Audvard had wanted to come along, and Vibjorn Skytja had offered to take his place. No one had a problem with that. Thore wasn't there, and he was the only one who would know of any reason to protest.

It was awkward, being almost alone with Vibjorn, especially with her and Eskil's relationship being so fraught with hurt and tension. She wasn't sure if Thogard's presence was a relief or not.

On the one hand, Thogard never gossiped. On the other hand, she had no idea how much he noticed without saying anything. Not that there was anything to notice, or ever would be. Maybe this infatuation had simply become a self-feeding loop, where her thinking so much about it fuelled her nervousness, which in turn made it grow in her mind.

"Good thing you have your companion with you. I imagine it makes the whole thing less lonely."

He was speaking in her amma's language. That was another rather intimate thing, something of their own not shared by any of their other companions, and Ina was watching them curiously as they talked.

"I am glad she's here," Kildevi said. Inspired by that feeling of intimacy, she added, "but she's actually not only my companion, she's also promised to Eskil. The idea is that she will be the one staying at home, so I'll be free to do other things."

He blinked. So, he was definitely surprised. Upset? No. She couldn't discern any outrage. Instead he turned his head and gave Ina a quick once over.

"She's pretty!"

For a heartbeat, Kildevi couldn't breathe. She had no reason to feel like the words had struck into her stomach and punched the air out of her lungs, and yet, they had.

Oblivious, he continued, "I mean, no more than you, but you're our Lady at the prow, and should be above being looked at like that."

Suddenly struck by the thought, he nervously fiddled with the hem of his sleeve and added, "…and that means I really shouldn't talk about you like this, I am so sorry."

"Oh no! I'm not above anything, I don't mind! Please, I like it, I really do! I mean…"

Stupid. Stupid mouth. He looked equal parts uneasy and confused. In the awkwardness that followed, he looked around the room.

"What are you doing in here all day?"

Kildevi breathed out. That was a much safer thing to talk about.

"Not much," she replied, relieved by the change of subject and free to talk, knowing that no one else could understand them. "Slowly losing our minds?"

She paused.

"No. I'm losing my mind, Ina seems fine, and the men know they are free to go when someone else comes to relieve them, but I…"

Kildevi bit her lip, trying to find words in a language she hadn't used for so long.

"I have a shadow growing over me. I even talk to the Kikimora even though she says quite horrible things to me, that's how bad it is. And I can't do any more mending, I can't make myself do it. I just can't. I can't breathe."

Vibjorn looked at her from across the table, obviously handfallen. He was one of those men who showed his heart and mind openly on his face, and now his brow was knitted from compassionate worry.

"I don't know why you can't go out," he confessed. "I mean, they're gone, they could be anywhere. I don't understand why you would be safer here than out in the yard or wandering around inside the village - not alone, obviously, but…"

"I don't think he knows why. I think it gives him a feeling of doing something. I don't know if giving me grief is the main point or a happy side effect, but I am sure he doesn't mind it."

Vibjorn seemed to ponder that for a moment, probably searching for some magic words that would make it all better.

"I'm sorry," he finally said. "I can't imagine what it would be like, being so powerful and still having someone who makes all the decisions for you. Tell me if I can do anything."

You could reach across the table and kiss me until I'm crying from both kinds of desperation.

Instead, she said, "No, I don't think there is much you can do. But thank you."


Eskil came to bed that night, like he did every night. Since that first evening when she had refused to be sent away, he hadn't touched her beyond the occasional stroke down her back or hand on her shoulder. It made sense that he wouldn't expect her to lend herself to anything he probably still deep down saw as beneath her. But tonight, he had rights again.

They had hardly spoken in the last two days. He had tried, but she was neither willing nor able unless he was ready to speak about her imprisonment, which he stubbornly refused. Regardless of whether he planned to claim anything from her or not, she simply wished he would say it. She'd spent too many nights in her life tensely waiting for something that may or may not come, and was past fed up with it.

"How have you been?"

It sounded like an opening for intimate smalltalk, and she would have none of it.

"I am losing my mind."

"No, you're not."

His voice was sad, and tired.

"Yes, I am. Nothing in here is real."

Now, a hand stroked down her arm.

"Kildevi, I…"

"Don't. Take me if you must, but don't play tender. Don't delude yourself to think you can take my life away from me and still pretend to love me."

She heard the harshness in her own voice. The hand disappeared.

"I'm trying to protect you."

"No, you're not. You're trying to protect your pride by shrinking me to nothing."

"Believe what you want, but you're overreacting. You spent more or less a month inside last winter, without going more mad than usual."

"Together with everyone, and we still went outside to bring things in from the outhouses."

He fell silent for a while.

"Would it help if you could use the yard? I know it isn't what you want, but at least it's outside."

"It would help. It would raise my freedom to that of a house thrall."

When he replied, that sharp edge was back in his tone.

"Or to that of a woman who has ruined her reputation by bad judgement."

Kildevi didn't turn. Still staring into the wall with her back to him, she replied.

"You're the one doing that to me. If you hadn't bent like a weakling to the ones who thought you wrong, it would have seemed like you stood up for your decisions, proud of what I am. Now you look like you're scared of me. It makes you look weak."

"I'm not scared of you, I'm scared for you. And it's not your place to insult me."

"I disagree. I would even say it is my duty when you make yourself less of a man than you are. And what are you going to do? Lock me up?"

"Have you not a trace of respect left?"

"I lost that when I realised you'd rather stick to a bad decision than admit to one."

She felt him turn away behind her. How could two people be so lonely while still touching?


Kildevi woke thrice before dawn, twice together, once alone. First, he slept through her usual wake, turned in his sleep, arm at rest around her. Then, he slept when she woke in the small hours of the morning, stirred from a dream that evaded her waking thought.

The last time, she woke alone. The household slept, yet her husband was gone. On silent feet, she passed through the sleeping house, to the back door leading out to the yard outside. Flakes of snow were slowly drifting downwards, covering the world in white down.

Good morning, Sister Bear.

"Good morning. You sound more civil than usual?"

You are closed down, cut off, outside yourself. I am the scorching flame only when you breathe fire.

"And now, if I look at myself, what will I see?"

You have hardened. You have grown proud.

"Have I? I don't feel hardened. I don't feel proud. I feel lonely and full of sorrow."

Your husband mistakes your resistance for battle. That is because he cannot conceive what a battle with you would really be.

"You make me sound terrible."

You're not. But you could be.

"Have you come to give advice?"

I have come because your dream called me. I am closer now than I have ever been. I will give you three truths and answer one question.

The first truth: Ormgeir's temptation is not what you think. He is your mirror.

The second truth: You have grown too quickly, along different paths. This is your growth pain.

The third truth: Your daughters will have two fathers. You will be one of them.

Now, what is your question?

"How can we make those paths meet again?"

The first step is your choice to ask that question, when all you had was one. The second is to know what you are willing to risk and for what. The third to act on that knowledge.

"Gee. Thanks. You really are a spirit of stating the obvious, aren't you?"

So young. So full of scorn. But it is that time in your life, so I am content.


"I guess you weren't talking to yourself."

Eskil walked out from behind the bathhouse. He must have stood beneath the roof of the woodshed. Only then did she realise that she had spoken her part of the conversation out loud, and not in thought.

"I can't get rid of you, can I? It took you five seasons. To go from jester to jailer."

He halted, some three paces away. In the falling snow before dawn, the world was at its most unreal.

"I don't want you to want to get rid of me."

"Always interesting to see a man work so hard against his own interests."

"How long are you going to sperrask instead of speak?"

"Until you give me a reason to believe my guard isn't exactly where it needs to be."

He stood silent for a moment. When he spoke, the words came slowly, lower than his usual voice.

"I think you're right. I have bent. First, I bent to you. You threw situations in my face and I made calls about them, one by one. But you were always the one picking out direction, you veered off the given tracks down every side path you could find. I ran furiously to keep up, and you did your best to throw me off your back. Then, I found a path of my own and started to walk it, and when I realised that you stood in my way, I forced you to bend to me. You see, I may seem scared of you, but that's only because I'm scared of your shadow. I don't want to live in it."

Eskil paused and looked out over the yard, where the snow still fell in large flakes from above.

"I never made the decision to let my wife be her own man. But I never made the decision to let myself be that either. Yet, I have now acted on both. And neither are decisions I would have made if I was faced with them. My parents always act like two sides of the same coin, neither of them fully their own."

Face furrowed in thought, he stared into the ground behind her.

"I had no idea what I got myself into when I married you. I don't know what I thought. Not this, anyway. I was too young and filled with bravado to consider much beyond myth."

"Are you building up to your divorce speech? Because if you are, just tell me."

Now, his head twitched up.

"No! Why would you..?"

"This whole not-the-horse-you-bought talk."

"You're not a horse."

"No. Some men hold their horses in higher regard than their wives."

"Well, I don't."

He had never been very attached to his horses, rarely even cared for them himself. She really wanted to throw that in his face, but didn't. In that moment, she was quite proud of that.

"If you aren't trying to convince me to support a claim of irreconcilable differences, where are you going with this? Because I try to understand how to listen and what for, but I can only keep my mind open for so long, and you still haven't given me a sign if you plan to give me my rights and freedoms back."

He took a deep breath and held it before he let it out in a puff of air.

"You're right, I haven't. I'm trying to make the calls in the right order this time. First the big decisions, then let the small ones follow."

"You are not standing here in front of me, calling this a small decision."

"It's important right now, but it's not wooden poles to build a house around." He sighed. "But you're right. We can't talk strategy in the middle of a field on fire. The problem is, I don't trust you. I want to take all your restrictions away, but I also don't want you to walk off alone because you feel like it, or do anything else on a whim that ends up having consequences far beyond the obvious."

"How about this? You give me the same freedoms I had before your fight with Ulfrik. I will bring the housecarls, or two of my own men, whenever I leave the house and the yard. I will also bring Ina so she's not left alone in the house."

He was looking at her now, meeting her eyes for more than a brief glance. Finally, he nodded.

"Then, we both need to acknowledge," she continued, "that we have led double lives in double roles, and that has to change. The lion's wife cannot be married to half of you, and the lion to half of me. We need to bring the vǫlva to the warrior."

Now, his confirming nods turned emphatic.

"Yes. That was where I was going. Two embracing figures only throw one shadow."

So, that was that. In a moment, she had gone from imprisoned to merely under guard again. She needed a respite between that and delving into the details of what it was he was proposing for their future. In her detached state, none of it seemed fully real.

He hadn't shown any reaction to her claim of her own men. Either he hadn't made note of the words, or else the fact that some of his men were here in loyalty to her hadn't escaped him. What had been said when the men found him yesterday?

"Did Thore ever talk to you?"

Eskil nodded, with just a shadow of a rueful smile.

"Yes, he did. Several times from different angles. But he's your friend, first and foremost. Of course he would side with you."

"He didn't, you know, at least not all the way. He sat here explaining your side to me. He big-brother-hovered over me in St Mamas. He may have been my friend before he became yours, but he's been protecting your interests the whole time."

"Huh. It's a rare man who mainly shows loyalty and support behind your back. We must have both thought he was siding with the other."

"Yes. Or, not really. I know he usually simply wants us to solve it so he's not stuck in the middle. But if Thore didn't sway you, what did?"

Now, Eskil was chuckling. The softness started to return to his features, something of the man she knew before these last few days of distance.

"Jonar calling me a disgraceful piece of shit. If that shipwreck of a man calls you out for being dishonourable, you need to take a long, hard look at yourself." His face straightened again. "And some of the things you said stuck with me. I've been awake twice before I decided to rise, just turning the issue of the roles we play over and over in my head."

He grimaced and looked around the little yard. Their footprints were now mere outlines beneath the snow.

"I wouldn't have to forbid a wife anything. If I had earned her respect, she would listen and follow. But a vǫlva doesn't follow. Even the gods, even Oðin himself, need to ask nicely. And a man can't bend to his wife if he wants other men to follow him. Our constant battle of wills had to end, so I got high-handed trying to make you into what I needed you to be."

Eskil sighed. When he looked at her there was a sad little smile twisting his lips.

"But you're not. So we will need to find some other way to stop our tug-of-war. And by that, I don't mean what we've been doing since midwinter. I don't even mean what we've been doing since we arrived in Miklagard. I mean the tug-of-war that started with you sneaking out into the forest on the night before our wedding, and then refusing to look at me for the entire first feast day."

"Because you made me feel plain and unwanted, you even took back the only appreciative comment you'd ever made me! And then you dragged everyone into the room to witness our consummation."

"I didn't want you to think I got married just to get my hands on you! It's unworthy, leering at your bride, especially if there hasn't been a courtship. And yes, your defiance made me need a band of brothers to cheer me on for confidence. I had never gone to the bed of someone who clearly didn't want me before, and I had no idea if the bees and the canaries were going to work!"

"That was because you seemed so thoroughly disinterested! And you know what? A courtship wouldn't have hurt! I had been wanted by exactly one man in my entire life, while you had more or less been able to point and pick, so don't you dare tell me you were the one lacking confidence!"

Exasperated, Eskil threw out his hands.

"One that you knew of! And I'll remember to court you if we ever get married again, but, this! This is what I mean. This is what we can't keep doing. I am not your enemy, I am not your adversary, I am not the one you should need to defeat to feel like you've won!"

Kildevi opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off and continued before she'd had a chance to speak.

"And I know that is a matter of my conduct too. Trust me when I say that those things apply at least as much to me as they do to you. But we still need to get past the mistrust and the habit of doing things behind the other's back." Slowing down, he continued. "Because the husband leads the wife, but the vǫlva leads the warrior. And what that means… I don't know what that means yet. Only that we will have to do some things on faith until we figure it out. Together."

Kildevi nodded. She realised that she had already been handed much of what she wanted on a plate, so why didn't everything suddenly feel wonderful? Or at least like before?

"Did you really loathe my invitation of the guests?"

Kildevi glanced up at him with a slight pout.

"No. It actually helped. I knew you wouldn't behave too badly with your elders outside. But it was a bold move, and you really shouldn't complain about me talking frankly about these things when you traded banter with Alfjir while still halfway inside me."

Still miserable, she realised she stood outside being snowed on, dressed in just a thin shift and a cloak. Disgusted, she brushed the snow off her head as best she could.

"Will you come inside? I'm so wet I'm dripping!"

A strangely strangled sound made her look up, then she took her time to critically watch his struggle.

"You are not a warrior," she concluded. "You are a barely bearded boy with vulgar humour, trapped in a grown man's body."

"There is room in me for him too, but he hasn't been out much these last few days. You sort of make him thrive."

"Thore has told me about vǫlur. I don't think your barely bearded boy can handle me."

This, this felt real. Brittle, but real.

"Was that a challenge?"

Kildevi shook her head.

"No. We probably shouldn't bypass the hardship to simply lie our way through this."

"Not instead of the hard parts. But I wasn't at my most considerate last time, and I haven't given you reason to smile in a while. In or out of bed."

"But I've heard a rumour that you don't have hard parts…"

"Too early. That path does not lead to happiness."

But he smiled when he said it.

After a moment of silence, he added, "regardless, we should get back to bed. If nothing else, to close our eyes for a while before the rest of the house wakes up. I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow, and you will probably find quite a few errands to run. I guess that none of us have had a good night's sleep yet."


The men left in the morning, leaving Audvard and Eystein behind. She figured that was a gesture on Eskil's part, to leave her with two men who were so clearly hers, in both loyalty and in Audvard's case affection.

No one had explained much to her, but Kildevi picked up that the Kniaz and a good half of his war leaders were leaving for the seat of a chieftain who was so near that moving the court would be an unnecessary hassle. What Kniaz Ingvar did bring was a good-sized force to back him up, and the men left behind were only the bare minimum needed to keep an eye on the remaining court.

"Isn't this exactly what we believed the Kniaz brought me for?" Kildevi had asked while the men prepared to leave. "I thought I was going to ride out and sit like a scary banner somewhere in the background when he visited the tribes?"

"These are the East Polans," Eskil replied. "They're a content bunch at the moment, or at least more busy fighting each other than us. No, wait two weeks. I bet you will spend much more time on horseback once we go on into the marshes of the Dregoviches."

Hearing of the marshlands, she threw out, "Don't lose Helgi."

Eskil's forehead furrowed, and he gave her a long, inquisitive look.

"Helgi? Why Helgi?"

"When you said marshes… I haven't thought much about the Lord of Boglands since we left Khortytsia, but there is still a mess of a… a thing in there. Pieces all over the place. If I can't make sense of them myself, I might need him. His mind goes places where other men can't follow, and those places are different from mine."

Eskil pursed his lips, but then he just nodded and continued to fasten his leg wraps.


"So, I'm glad t'hear you're free again, M'lady," Audvard noted when the house had emptied and they were alone with Ina and Eystein.

"Yes. So am I."

Ina came walking up behind her and placed a comb and a mirror on the table, before leaning her arms on Kildevi's shoulders to look down at her.

"Your hair, is a disgraceful mess, young lady," she said in a mock stern voice. "If you are heading outside today, we will have to do something about that. How did this even…"

"It's yesterday's braid, so it's been badly slept on, then snowed on, then we went back to bed and I just pinned it again in the morning…"

"If I had hair this colour, it would be my pride and joy, I don't know how you manage to make something this pretty look like a bird made a nest out of wheat!"

"But it is my pride and joy!" Kildevi protested. "It's still better taken care of than the rest of me is at the moment!"

"Then maybe we should fire up the bathhouse later," Ina said in a voice that implied it wasn't a suggestion. "If you two are on speaking terms again, you can't go to him with skin rough as an old milkmaid's, not when we have both a banya and a tub."

As Ina started to undo the messy knot, Eystein rose and looked around for somewhere to go, but Audvard simply chuckled.

"If you're joinin' the crew, you've a thing or two to learn, son. First is that y'need to split th'Lady in two, one for bowin' to and one for brotherin'. You don't walk out when yer sisters combin', do you?"

Eystein shook his head and sat down again, but his posture was visibly tense. He was younger than Audvard, but well into his twenties, his head shaved bald with what Kildevi guessed was the shadow of an early receding hairline. The beard was long enough to be shaped to a sharp point, cleanly shaved at the sides. He would have looked fearsome, if it wasn't for the obvious unease that screamed from his stance.

"He is right," she confirmed with a smile. "In here, I don't stand in judgement. Here, I'm simply Kildevi. Welcome to my circle of brothers."


Once her hair was braided and bound, Kildevi just walked. She had no errand, no place to be except to see and be seen. It was strange how four days inside, three depending on how you counted, could feel like a watershed, only because it had been forced by a human will, not weather or sickness.

They were met with few known faces - most men she knew were away with the prince - but as they passed the yard outside the hall, two of the Kniaz' consorts stood watching a group of children at play, surrounded by their ladies in waiting. She hadn't been introduced to either of them, and thus she made a small bow as they passed, and got curious glances and respectful nods in return.

Kildevi saw no sign of Ingvida or any of her ladies in waiting, but Milosh-the-scion also sat out in the yard, playing against another scion so young she wondered if he even knew how to use that sword he carried. Void of anything else to do, but loath to go back, she drifted over to watch. Both men rose when she approached, the young one so quickly he almost tipped the bench.

"Volkhva, how can we help you?"

Milosh spoke, the boy just stared, blue eyes wide and glossy.

"I need no help today, I'm simply bored. Would you mind if we stay and watch your game?"

Milosh quickly threw a few commanding words to the boy, who woke from his trance with a twitch and quickly walked off to fetch another bench. Ina looked like she struggled to keep composure and Milosh threw her a mildly embarrassed glance.

"I'm sorry, I forgot you speak both tongues."

"Don't worry about it, we have all called our lackeys worse things than that."

"He is not really my lackey, but…"

"...but you have ten years on him and he doesn't know how to find his own feet in the morning?"

"Well, yes."

Kildevi glanced between them. He was a visibly martial man of middling dark complexion, hawk-nosed and with eyes a brownish green. About her own height, she noted, but probably at least half again the bulk. Ina still hadn't introduced him. That wasn't really like her. Faced with a pointed look, Ina seemed to get her manners back.

"Kildevi, this is Milosh, of Kniahynia Ingvidas personal scions. I was once promised to his father."

Kildevi felt her eyes narrow suspiciously. That was not a good explanation for how they were so familiar. She had seen marriages brokered without the bride even being introduced to the man's children.

But she held her tongue. There would be time to ask more questions later.

To her utmost surprise, they watched the young squire wipe the board with Milosh. Kildevi had a trained eye for Hnefatafl by now, and Milosh was not a terrible player. But Olaf was outstanding. The moment they returned to the gaming board, all else seemed to disappear from the young man's view, and he made each move with neither haste nor hesitation. Slowly, Kildevi came to realise he already knew how the game would play out several moves ahead. When finally he picked the king off the board, she turned to him.

"You said that your father's name is Steinvidar, but you never mentioned your mother?"

His hair was a pale blonde, maybe the blondest she had ever seen on an adult in winter.

"My mother is Miellikki of the Chuds, now first among father's wives."

Kildevi nodded. Another son of the sisters. In the end, she was willing to bet their mark on these rivers would be greater than ever their captors'.


"So, who is Milosh?"

They were on their way back to the house, and Kildevi took her chance when Audvard and Eystein were trailing behind, deep in their own conversation.

"I told you, he is the son of the boyar who died before our wedding."

"Yes. But that's not all, is it?"

Ina was silent for a few paces, then she sighed.

"No. It isn't."

"You were lovers?"

"No!"

She sounded as shocked now as she had back in Konugard when Kildevi asked if she had gotten in trouble.

"So, what is it? My imagination is usually worse than the truth."

"Well, not yet, anyway."

Kildevi felt her brow rise, but opted to wait and see if Ina would continue.

"We had an… understanding. And I didn't want you to think I would do something similar this time."

"What was that understanding about, exactly?"

Ina cringed.

"You must understand that his father was really old. In a frog-like and balding way."

"Mhm."

"So… Milosh found me crying in the pantry after the engagement had been sworn and agreed on, and after a few words of comfort he offered to be… acting husband."

"He did, did he. What a selfless thing to offer as comfort to a distraught yet strikingly voluptuous maiden."

The dryness in Kildevi's voice could have dried up a well, and Ina threw her an irked glance.

"I never said he offered out of pity, but the whole thing became easier to live with when I knew there would be a handsome scion waiting whenever the old fart went away. I was sixteen! Imagine thinking that the only touch you would know in your youth would be disgusting. Besides, it would barely matter which one of them had fathered a child, it would be of his blood anyway."

Ina paused her agitated defence to take a deep breath.

"Either way, that wasn't going to happen until after the wedding, and we haven't seen each other since his father died. An understanding was really all there was. And some planning on how to keep everything secret. We both put quite a lot of thought into it, so we got to know each other in the process. It was a nice solace to have."

"So, an understanding and some planning, and a decent amount of daydreaming and a lot of thinking at night when the children slept was all there was. Nothing at all, really."

"Not enough to make me mourn that the old frog died, so can you stop?"

"I'm just saying that Eskil has a handsome brother who is fond of married women, and we will be away a lot. All of his seven brothers are rather handsome, actually, even though Eskil is known as the pretty one. Runs in the family. But a few of them are not really men yet, so… "

"You are not funny! And I've met Thorstein, remember? I spoke more to him than to Eskil when they lived with us. His rascally stories were entertaining, but I'd rather die a maiden than be in them. Have you never done something that you don't regret but still are ashamed of?"

Kildevi put a calming hand on Inas arm, only now realising that her friend was honestly upset.

"I wouldn't have joked about it if I thought it could happen. And as to your last question… all the time. That is more or less my daily life. I secretly met with my first husband for a month before we were even engaged, and if I sit there looking distant I'm probably having thoughts that I can't allow myself to act on. I simply find joy in knowing even you have a couple of small stains on your wifely virtues."

The distraught look on Ina's face had now shifted to one of slight bewilderment.

"Do you mean that every time you look distant...?"

"Not all of it is about men! Most of the time it's wondering how far a fox can walk in a day, or what would happen if the world was upside down or what I would do if I woke up a boy and got to relive my life, but sometimes it's also wondering what everyone tastes like when they kiss."

Ina nodded now, mind seemingly back on the main issue.

"Are you going to tell him?"

"Eskil? Of course not! There are things husbands are better off not knowing. He shouldn't concern himself with things that only happened in your mind."



When they came back, Ina sent Lida out to start a fire and begin to heat up water. Darkness had started to fall, and Ina put the evening stew to a simmer before she collected her things and ushered Kildevi out towards the bathhouse.

"You go inside," she said, wrapped in layers of winter woollens. "I'll keep guard from the woodshed, just so no one tries to sneak a peek at your hair. Some people are still very curious about what it's made of."

"Thank you. What would I do without you?"

"Smell worse," Ina quickly replied and handed her a clean shift with a comb, a small clay bottle, and a piece of soap resting on top. "If you hurry, I might take a quick dip when you're done."


The bathhouse was dark, but between the fire and the oil lamp she had brought from the house, Kildevi could see clearly enough. Next to the steaming water it was warm enough to undress without freezing, and she carefully rid herself of coat, smokkr, kirtle and stockings, until she stood there in only her thin linen shift.

Though the fabric was so light it barely felt like a cover, she was still comfortable enough to carefully comb through the hair as she undid her braid. Ina had a point. She probably should take better care of herself here among the beautiful and noble. All the strange regimens from the bathhouse in Hebdomon must have been good for something, right?

In the middle of that thought, Kildevi froze. She heard footsteps. They were not the light crunch of Ina's leather shoes as they broke the crust of the snow. These steps had weight.

The door opened on creaking hinges, the sound muted in the stillness of the snow-filled yard.

Something filled up the doorframe.


Ormgeir carefully closed the door behind him. His gaze swept over the timbered room before it settled on her. Between the helmet and the beard, his face was covered in steel, his eyes in shadow. The cloak was draped back behind his shoulders, showing his full armour, and resting against the long shirt of mail hung both sword and seax, an axe strapped to his back. The only thing missing was the shield.

"Seeress. It looks like we're finally alone."

He did not look amused now, all humour gone from his face.

"I will give you this, you know how to rub a man the wrong way."

"Where is Ina?"

"Your loyal little friend outside? She won't bother us."

Suddenly cold, Kildevi forced her face blank and her voice steady.

"What have you done with her?"

"Nothing, yet. But she knows what happens if she makes a sound."

He walked closer, then stopped a few paces away to look at her as she stood by the tub, still in her shift with the braid almost undone.

"I see that I came too early."

Kildevi made a point to finish her unbraiding and pick up the bottle before replying.

"What difference would it have made?"

Casually, he pulled off the gloves and the helmet and drew his fingers through his hair.

"Not much, just a better view."

"We both know that none of the reasons you're here are hidden by this shift."

"Not much is."

He took a moment to stand and just look her up and down, like a buyer taking a first look at a horse. As an act of threat and belittlement it would have worked as intended, if she hadn't known it for what it was. His eyes still lingered over the outline of her breasts against the sheer linen when he spoke again.

"I planned to make you an honoured consort, not my unwilling concubine, but… I'm running out of patience. I could just kill him and take you."

"Yes. You could." She paused, more for rhetoric than from fear or shock. It was eerie, the way she was still calm, when she should be scared out of her wits.

"But unless you plan to kill me too, nothing could stop me from cursing every step you took from that day on. Every journey met by storms, bad luck in every battle fought. You would never sleep another night not maere-ridden."

He watched her face now, silent, the melange eyes intense. He didn't look angered or threatened. He looked… alive.

Thoughtfully she added, "Someone once told me it would take the strength of nine men to kill off the young of my enemies. Do you think I can find nine men at this court willing to partake in such a rite? How well loved are your heirs?"

"I know that your sorcery goes beyond mere prophecy, but if you truly had that kind of power, he would have used it."

"No, because he knows that all things come at a price. And now, I make sure that you do, too."

It was an interesting staredown, him in his full byrne, sword at the side, axe hanging on his back. She, in a thin shift and armed with a comb and a bottle of vinegar. Still, she didn't feel naked. She felt armoured in confidence.

"You know that I don't believe in everything the men say about you."

"Oh, you shouldn't. As you know, the full length of my hair is fairly good, yet ordinary hair. What men don't know, they make up. And they don't know of all the things I have done."

"So, what have you done?"

"I have conquered the Lovat in spring."

"Many men can claim that."

She shook her head.

"For twelve nights she tried to break me. She bled me, she drowned me, she bit me, she threw me down every rapid, filled every part of me with her cold streams, before she gave me to her drowned souls to bear down on. Yet here I stand, with not a trace of her left. Do you believe yourself stronger than a river?"

He kept his eyes nailed into hers, but they gleamed. He believed her.

"I think I am stronger than you."

"In the span of an evening? Yes. But you have no interest in killing me. You have no desire to force me down on that floor to befoul me. You don't want to kill Eskil to drag me away and make me your… what is it now? Fourth wife? Fifth? Seventeenth concubine? If you had, you would have done it by now. But why would you? You don't lack women, and one ceded body is not that different from another."

"It would be akin to burning the fields behind me, but I have done so before. Kyllikes father got to watch me enjoy her after the rites, he heard her struggle all the way to his end. It would be a fitting fate for a lion."

"You were a younger man with a point to make and a reputation to build. You are not in a position now where you need to make points. What would it prove? Where you stand now, playing this particular game, it would be admitting defeat, wouldn't it?"

She smiled, a cold, loopsided little smirk.

"And you have already learned your lesson, to the hefty price of your first marriage turned into a life-long war. Because she never broke, did she? Her resolve just hardened. I bet that's why you wanted her in the first place. You have no patience for weakness, and you will treat everyone as badly as they let you."

Something had shifted in him. He still didn't look angry, or provoked, or threatened. He looked happy. Really happy. Like an elkhound given a bone and sent off to play.

Kildevi's confidence started to waver. Had she missed something?

"What is it? Am I amusing you in some way?"

"I have not had this much fun in a long time."

"Please, share the joke. We could both need a laugh."

He shook his head, staredown broken with no clear winner.

"There is no joke, I have merely enjoyed a little game of chase and pounce with a worthwhile opponent. It was a long time since I last met a woman who stood proud and unshaken through persuasion, bribes and threats. Even when half naked in an abandoned bathhouse, armed with nothing but a small bottle of vinegar."

"And a comb."

"And a comb."

Kildevi cocked her head

"I believe we can come to an understanding, you and I."

"I think we can."

"Yes. Maybe even be friends. We could both be a useful friend for the other to have, don't you think? But for that to be possible, you have to stop trying to make me yield. I cannot be a friend to a man who is a constant challenge to my husband, and thereby the honour and name of me and my family. Surely you understand that?"

His brow rose in the sardonic amusement she recognised.

"Demands? From a girl of… how old are you? Nineteen? Twenty?"

"I should turn three and twenty any day now."

"If you have demands, I can name my own."

"Name them."

"Kiss me."


Kildevi hesitated. This was not the right time for knee-jerk reactions. It might be the thing that softened the blow to his pride, a bit of generosity in the face of how much he had tried for. And she really wanted him to accept her offer of a truce, before someone saw him cross a line where a feud was inevitable.

On the other hand, she had resisted charm, barter and threats. Would this be perceived as falling at last?

On the third hand, a well known voice whispered inside, why do you care about what he would want and think, when you've spent so much time wondering what it would be like?

"Why?"

Head tilted down as he met her gaze, he smiled.

"Does a man need a reason?"

"Only if I know that he has one."

"Because I'm curious. Indulge me."

"Your demand, for mine. And everything said and done here stays in this room. Your word, on your honour."

"If not, I expect you to find those nine vengeful lovers. I have six living sons and three daughters. Nine for nine."

Slowly, she put down the comb and the vinegar, before she closed the distance between them in three quick steps. Her arms landed around his neck, leisurely at first, but when his arms wrapped around her waist, her own grasp tightened as she pulled his head downward.

His lips were soft, relaxed, but his arms had her shackled in an iron grip and soon the kiss turned feverish, his mouth hungry as he pressed her against the layers of mail, wool and linen. Through the metal smell of the byrne, he tasted of malt and woodsmoke.

Take him.

No.

Just when she decided to gather enough will to break free, he did. She felt his arms slowly relax around her and withdraw, her own leaving his shoulders.

For a moment they both stood watching each other in the dim light, flushed and short of breath. Then he made a sardonic little bow.

"If you ever wonder what my word is worth…"

With that, he turned and walked away.

Kildevi stood for a moment, wondering if she had just sealed the best or worst deal of her life.


Reality presented itself again in the form of a bath quickly cooling in the chill air. If she was going to wash, it was now. Just as she slid down into the tub, Ina came through the door on silent feet, and fell to a crouch beside the bath.

"What happened? Are you hurt? What did he do?"

"I think we came to an understanding."

"What kind of understanding?"

"The sort that he swore would never leave this room."

"The sort that tests your loyalties?"

Kildevi smiled.

"Not anymore."

---

Endnote:
This has been a friggin mountain of a chapter, and it's hard to sum up what might be needed in an endnote. I'll just make a few random notes, and if there is anything else that I should have adressed - please tell me.

Sperrask - is the word that gave English the word "spar". In modern Icelandic, it means exactly the same as in modern English, i.e. to fight for play/training while trying to avoid hurting each other. The old Norse word means something very much alike, except they didn't give a rats arse about avoiding to hurt or bruise. Real men don't moan about stuff that eventually heals.
To sperrask is simply to have a friendly fight trying to avoid permanent damage and death. So, there is a difference in value, if not in literal meaning.


Eskil's comment on even the gods showing respect for Völvor (modern Swedish spelling and grammar) is a reference to Völuspa (prophecy of the völva). It's a poem in the poetic Edda where Odin asks for the story of the world, and the völva tells him about how the world once begun, quite a few things that has happened in it, and how it will come to end. Odin does this with the utmost respect.

The seer in Völuspa obviously isn't some common hedge witch, but, as Eskil has come to realise, neither is Kildevi.
The earliest manuscript of Völuspa is from the 13th century, but the poem itself is often dated to the 10th, and is one of the few traces of even older mythology we have left. There has probably been Christian influences on the text, but I find it very hard to believe that high respect for a female oracle would be one of them.


Last and probably least, I happened upon the classical (as in greek/latin) term for doggy style while checking up something else. Kildevi had already been mentioned as the lioness on a couple of occasions, so I decided to just run with it. It was too funny a coincidence to not make a scene of. So that is real.
The term doggy also existed, btw, but is believed to have meant something else back then. Something not at all very hardcore today, that Eskil and most men in early medieval Europe (probably) wouldn't be caught dead doing, no matter how cunning they were with linguistics.

That was a bad joke. I'll see myself out.