Sister Bear

[Alvlin]

This is an ongoing story that this far spans 4 years and 2 continents, but will be posted little by little. It is reasonably well historically researched, but not to be used as a history book.

The premise is to see the world as east Scandinavians in the early 900s to a quite substantial degree, which means that you will run into unquestioned but fairly problematic stuff in regard to:
Classism
Honor structures
Sexism, incl gender roles (albeit of a sometimes alien flavour)
Transphobia (once again of a slightly non-modern flavour)
Homophobia (Against receiving men only.)
Slavery
Drug use
Heavy drinking
Casual sexual violence
....and probably some more.
Not a lot of racism, though, even though that surely existed. Talk of whiteness as a mark of beauty is for example, mainly a matter of disdain for sunburnt thralls, not people born with more melanine.

In addition, you will run into:
Nudity: These people lived, slept and had sex in one room with, at best, a sturdy curtain for privacy. Modern standards of privacy does not exist, nor modern standards of modesty.

Teenagers being regarded as adults: Puberty meant adulthood. I have done my absolute best to avoid being exploitative, and hope that I have managed to handle it responsibly and maturely.


If you happen upon a word you don't know - check the glossary.

If you know your icelandic sagas - look for tropes. This is not written as a saga, but contains quite a few nods to them.

If you wonder who the heck Svein is - check the cast list for the part you're currently reading. Future cast lists contains spoilers.

If you wonder how on earth the world turns from summer to winter over a day - remember that there are only two seasons in a year.

Enjoy!

 

[Alvlin]

The Varangian port in Constantinople.

A man sits at the pier, cleaning his mail, when a grizzled sea dog walks up to him.

"You, that wife of yours."
"Yes, I've heard of her."
"What the fuck is she?"
The man looked up, eyes narrowed in the sharp sun.
"She's the granddaughter of the most all-knowing sejðwife the finns ever gave to the svear."
"Huh. So that's why she's so cocky. And you. Who are you?"
The man smiled and returned to his byrne.
"I'm just the man fate dumped her with."


5 years earlier

She woke up knowing that she wasn't alone. Her hair still smelled of smoke from the burned longhouse, but now she felt the smell of another fire, fresh woodsmoke floating on top of the stench of tar and old fish. Slowly she opened her eyes. The old fish house was dark, but two paces away she saw the outline of a man, hunched down over a small fire. She didn't recognize him, but he wasn't young, yet not old enough to be frail. His beard looked red, the firelight painted everything in hues of copper.

He didn't seem to notice that she was awake, and she stayed silent for a few breaths, gathering courage to speak. Finally, she swallowed.
"How did you find me?"
The man didn't react at first, but when he finally spoke, his voice was calm.
"I saw you. Then I followed you."
"I- I have a knife!"
"Thanks for the warning."
He didn't look up, just kept his eyes fixed on the small fire, carefully tending it. Then he rose and turned to fetch more firewood from the small stack behind him.
"Let me give you some free advice, girl. If you're alone with someone bigger and stronger, don't tell him that you're armed. Either you don't have anything he wants and then it doesn't matter, or you do, and now he knows to take the knife off you before he takes it. A slip of a girl like you can't afford to give up the element of surprise."
Slowly, she sat up on the bench, wrapping her cloak and the stole around her, both for warmth and comfort.
"And… which one is it? Do I have anything you plan to take from me?"
He shook his head and looked up at her.
"I want nothing from you, taken or given."
She felt her shoulders relax, no longer holding the cloak closed as an armour around her.
He let out a low laugh.
"Oh. That. No, I don't want that from you either. I have a woman at home. A girl like you wouldn't compare well."
Leaning closer, he took a look at her face.
"I have a few sons who might think differently, though. You look healthy and pale. Nothing rough about you."
Her heart sped up again, new fears twisting and turning her chest.
"I am not a thrall."
"You don't look like one."
He sighed.
"Look, I know who you are. Your father is dead, your brothers are dead, your homestead burnt to the ground. You can come with me or you can stay here, but the men who burned your home will find you and they have worse plans than just to kill you. How good are your socks?"
"My - my what?"
"A man spends more time in his wife's socks than in her bed. How good are yours?"
Confused, she lifted her foot to show him a worn woollen sock with a yellow stripe on the top. He gave them a long look, much longer than he had given her. She felt the giggle force its way up her throat, nervousness and fear and in the midst of all the silliness of this unknown man staring intently at her muddy sock all taking its toll until laughter finally got the best of her. Below her, he smiled and gave her a pat on the foot.
"Looks good to me. What's your name?"
"Kildevi."
"Thorlev. Thorlev Sigulfson."
"So Thorlev, this son of yours. Is he a good man?"
"Which one? I have many sons. A long marriage's worth of them"
"The one you seem to have planned for me."
"Ah, I think I will leave that between you and fate. Let's bring you home to them, then wait and see what happens."
She looked at him, as if she tried to decide whether or not to say something. Finally she said: "I think you should know that I was born with omens."
He shrugged.
"Then maybe it is out of our hands anyway."
He turned to the fire again, slowly feeding it.
"You go and get your sleep, girl. We go at the first sign of sun on the morrow."

They left just before dawn, leading Thorlev's horse down carefully chosen paths away from the ruins that used to be her home. In the twilight of morning she saw that his beard was indeed red and the hair a dark reddish blond, both speckled with silver. His face bore traces of beauty still visible to her teenage eye. Some twenty years ago, she thought, he must have been striking. As she looked back on the path that once led to her father's seat she felt... Nothing. Everything that had once kept her here was long since gone, and in a way it was a relief the day had finally come to leave.

That day, they travelled slowly through the forest, mostly walking, only burdening the mare when Kildevi's own feet couldn't carry her anymore. She had never travelled beyond her father's land, and when the sun was halfway between midday and dark her feet were red, swollen and aching. Thorlev seemed unperturbed by the endless walking. Overall he seemed to be in a good mood, and he whistled as they went through the conifer forest, following a stream down towards lower land.

They stopped early to make camp where a massive pine had fallen, finding shelter in the hollow beneath its dead roots. As she sat down to rub her aching feet, Thorlev threw her a pouch with his eld-tinna in, a stone and steel, and then went on to string his bow.
"I'll find something to eat. Have a fire ready when I return."
When he came back the sun was halfway down the horizon, and a small fire was dancing on an improvised hearth. Humming, he dropped a dead animal in her lap and started to chop a couple of wild onions down into a pot.
"You have your own knife, if I remember correctly. How fast can you skin a hare?"
"Depends, do you want the pelt?"
He smiled and shrugged.
"Why not? Consider it a test."
She took out her knife and started her work.
"You seem to be in good humour."
He smiled, narrowed eyes turned against the setting sun.
"I am."
"Tell me, Thorlev, why exactly did you come here?"
"An old oath to a man I never liked."
"And that man wants me dead."
"Yes."
"So you decided to take me in spite."
"Yes. But my wife also needs help and my sons need wives."
"You feel very clever right now."
"Yes."
"Let's hope you are."

They ate the stew in comfortable silence, both ravenous. When the pot was empty, Kildevi wrapped her cloak closer around her and stared into the fire. The flames were calming. They reminded her of wrinkled hands and sharp blue eyes filled with love and iron. Thorlev sat an arm's length away, face turned outwards into the forest. When he spoke, it was without turning.
"You sleep, I tend the fire."
"Why do your sons need wives?"
He shrugged.
"I have too many of them."
"Your clothes and tools tell me you're not a tenant farmer. Your household has wealth. Why can't your sons find wives?"
He smiled, turning his head but careful not to look too close to the fire.
"You just sleep, girl. None of my secrets will leave you worse than I found you."

But Kildevi was not one to let things slide. In the morning before they left, she asked again, then once more come nightfall. One more night came and went, and she kept on. On the third night:
"Why do your sons need wives?"
"Most men do."
"And most women need husbands. Why do the sons of a wealthy man lack for wives?"
Thorlev didn't look up from the fire.
"You ask that question a lot."
"Because you never answer it."
"No, I don't."
Looking straight at him, she crossed her arms.
"I will keep asking until you do."
He sighed, finally looking up to meet her gaze.
"I don't give out stories for nothing. First you need to tell me about your omens."
Kildevi sat still. Deep in thought, she stared into the fire. She searched inside it, her mind reaching into the blue heat for something she had no name for. She felt the shift when it recognized her, a calm spreading through her as she drew breath.

"I was never raised for marriage, but from my first night I was fated for seiðr. My mother gave birth to five daughters, but my father only kept one. I was never supposed to live, he refused to name and water me. So, on the night of my birth I was put out to a spring where clear water ran down from the mountains. I was still alive when my grandmother found me and brought me home to my mother's breast. But the spring had dried up. The water spirit wanted me alive."
"That is a rather powerful omen."
Kildevi gave him a thin smile.
"It wasn't even the most peculiar of them. The household stirred, talk of spirits and bad omens spread around the hearth, but my father still wouldn't name me. The next day one of my father's men brought me deeper into the woods, to the cave of a bear with cubs, in the hope that my grandmother wouldn't find me. When he returned the next day to make sure I was gone, he found me among the newborn bear cubs without a scratch and full of the bear's milk. He fought her and brought me home again, thinking it was too much bad luck to leave me. No one dared to anger the spirits a third time, and since my father already had the only daughter he wanted, my grandmother claimed me as hers. What she said, was. She was not only my father's mother but a powerful seiðkona, feared by some and known by many. And that was how I was named by a vǫlva after the spring that refused to kill me. She raised me, but I still don't have her Sight. She said she knew that it would come to me, but I am in my seventeenth year and still I have seen nothing."

Thorlev had listened in silence, staring into the darkness behind her, but now he turned to her with a small grimace.
"How can a man with such a mother care so little for daughters?"
She didn't look up, just bit her lip, eyes fixed in the fire.
"I think he felt that he lived his life in her shadow and wanted to rule his household free of women's magic. To have one seeress is good for a man, but to birth five can be dangerous."
Thorlev seemed to consider this.
"I suppose I can see that."
"Your turn. I don't give out stories for nothing."
He gave her a sideways smile and a pat on the shoulder.
"Tomorrow, girl. Tomorrow I'll tell you an equal portion of my story."

At another camp, in front of another fire, Thorlev paid his debt.
"I was a young man, once. As a young man, I was a reckless fool with no real interest in anything but my own name. I wanted a wife, a woman high born and beautiful enough to fit my pride and sense of worth. When I found a girl to my liking and sought her father's approval, he sent me away.
'I see promise in you', he said to me. 'Prove that you are man enough to be the husband I want for her, and she is yours. Bring me back a spice I've never tasted, a wish granted from the otherworld and a coin from beyond Miklagard if you want my daughter. You have three years before I accept another offer.'
So I went on my merry way, and came back with all three. I can't say it was love, I didn't know her. I just saw a wealth of hair on a rich man's daughter and wanted to call her mine. The quest was an adventure to me, yet another chance to prove myself the man I wanted to be. I will leave the coin and the spice for another night, it was the wish that would later cause me trouble."
Thorlev paused to look up at the sky, where the clouds had parted to show the stars above. Then he sighed and looked back into the fire.
"I travelled south, and when two years had passed I had my coin and my spice, but still no trace of anyone who could grant me a wish. So I went north. I think that my plan was to just walk until someone found me, and that was what happened."
"How far north did you go?"
"Far. I must have been halfway to Jotunheim."
Kildevi tried to decide if he was joking or not, but found no way to tell. Also, who was she to discern what was possible? Maybe a man walking to Jotunheim was no less probable than a small babe fed by a bear mother. Thorlev continued.
"Winter surprised me with a blizzard, and I found a cabin where an old woman invited me in to ride out the storm. She shared her meat and barley, then sat down with me to bind her wool.
'What is a young man like you doing alone up here this time of year?' She asked me.
'I'm trying to get married.'
And I told her about the spice and the coin and finally the wish that eluded me.
'And say, young man, what would your wish be?'
'For our marriage to be blessed with many sons.'
'Sons?' she asked. 'Not children?'
But foolishly I laughed at her.
'Why would I want more mouths to feed?'
At that, the old crone took her needle and with a speed far greater than my own she stabbed it deep into my arm.
'Done.'
Our eyes met, and when she withdrew her needle, I was no longer in a cabin. Sitting alone in a hollow beneath a rock with the blizzard raging around me, the bleeding wound in my arm was the only sign left of our meeting."
"So, what did you do?"
"I went home to Alfrida's father, handed over the coin, the spice and my story. But I told it as the man I was, and her father was pleased to hear that his eldest daughter would mother many boys in a blessed union."
"And what did she think?"
"I don't think she thought much about it yet, but she was eagerly awaiting my return."
He looked up with a sardonic smile.
"I think it flattered her that a man would go on a three-fold quest for her, and I was a fearless lad with well burnt limbs. She made sure I knew that I was welcome."
He fell silent, dwelling on old memories. The warmth on his face surprised her, and he still smiled when he continued.
"The first ten years of our marriage, she bore me seven sons, five of which lived to become men. Or," he added with a snort, "almost men. The youngest of those five runs around with stray whiskers and a voice still cracking. But the other four have become men, and four more brothers have followed, six if you count the ones that Urd cut short. The youngest still needs the breast to sleep."
"So you have nine sons, the youngest still tied to his mother's apron, and not a single daughter."
A shadow fell over Thorlevs' face and he looked down at his hands.
"Once I had a stillborn daughter. She came too soon, a twisted little thing with a tail but no beating heart. I watered and named her and buried her in our holy glade, hoping to soothe the crone's anger, but if she listened at all, it wasn't enough. After Thyra, people began to whisper."
He fell silent. Kildevi watched his face, naked in sorrow.
"Your blessing was a curse."
"Yes."
"And who would give a daughter to the son of a cursed man?"
At first, Thorlev didn't reply. Then he sighed.
"My wife had three house thralls. One of them caught the eye of Eskil, my second. He put a child in her. It was a boy too. It may well be that I am not the last cursed man of my blood."

They sat there for a long time in silence, listening to the wind playing in the budding leaves of the trees above. Kildevi could feel the spring stir around them. Could he feel it too? Or was it for him only a matter of days growing longer and brighter?
"You believe I can help you."
Thorlev grimaced.
"I don't know. But I'm beginning to think it's a chance worth taking."
"Yet if I do, you will have no further use of me, and your sons will find wives who still have fathers to make bonds with."
He glanced at her, then reached out to take her hand.
"You have my word that if you break the curse on my bloodline, you will always have a place at my hearth, married or not."
"But I am living proof your oaths can be double edged swords."
"True, but there is one important difference."
She looked at him, eyebrows raised.
"And what might that be?"
"I'm starting to actually like you."

 

[Alvlin]

A note on seasons: There are two seasons, winter and summer, that change at the equinoxes. Spring and autumn are more like descriptions of the in-betweens of changing seasons.


Glossary

Amma/Umma: Grandmother

Argr: Serious insult, most often used about men, then meaning being a coward, weak, unmanly, reciever of (or lusting for) sexual penetration. If used about women, sexually promiscuous, dick hungry.

Aesir: The first family/tier of gods, first among them Oðin. Thor is another celebrity.

Ástin mín: My love, my darling.

Bacraut: Dickhead/asshole.

Baldr: Aesir god, son of Oðin, known for his beauty and beloved by all.

Beiscaldi: Griping bitch.

Cariad: Welsh word for loved one, beloved.

Drengr: A manly, brave, fair, straightforward, honourable (young) man.

Eld-tinna: Tools for making fire.

Elves: A variety of different creatures, among them the small folk, along with various gnomes, faeries, helpers and jesters. (There is no good English word for "oknytt" or "väsen" that I know of, so I'm going with elves.)

Ergi: Noun form of argr. A coward, a not-man, a reciever of sexual penetration. Also a man who practices sejðr.

Finns: The Saami. Not the same as modern finns.

Fylgja: Spiritual companion, can be an animal or an ancestor. Often inherited. Everyone has one.

Galdr: A sort of magic spell, sung (m) or recited (f). Practiced by all genders, dishonorable for none. Literally means "to sing".

Goði: Person of high political/religious status, acting priest.

Gótar: The people of what is now mid-southern Sweden.

Gutar: Gotlanders, people from Gotland.

Hamr: Shape, form, body.

Hors: Horse.

Hrafngrennir: Raven-feeder, great warrior.

Hugr: Thought, mind, will.

Jæmtar: The people of Jæmtland, then a kingdom in the northwest of modern Sweden.

Jotunn: Giants, enemies/rivals of the gods that by no means has to be giant.

Kæresta: Dearest one, beloved.

Kransen: Old Germanic circlet worn by unmarried women. (Should really be "the krans", but the term has traveled ungrammatically.)

Konur: Woman/wife.

Maðr: Man/husband.

Mamma: Informal term for mother.

Mundr: Bride price. A payment made by a groom to the bride's father for her legal rights.

Norne: The three nornes govern the fate of all men, but everyone also has their own norne keeping track of them. Your death day is already set when you are born, but how you die is more up to you.

Sæl: Informal greeting, shortened from "heil og sæl".

Sejðkona/sejðkonur: Woman who do sejðr.

Sejðmaðr: Man who do sejðr.

Sejðr: A sort of magic, shamanistic/spiritist in nature. Closely associated with "being a woman" in a sexual sense, the practice is seen as shameful for men, and men who practice sejðr are considered ergi and seen as sort of shifting into women. There are sources for sex as a ritual element, but interpretations of how and why is my own.

Spá: To foretell, through your own sight/intuition.

Spákona: Seer-woman, often used for women who do sejð too, because of less messy connotations.

Smokkr: Apron dress, straps fastened with buckles.

Svear: The people of what today is central Sweden.

Urd: One of the three nornes.

Vanir: The second family/tier of gods, most famous of them probably Frǫya.

Vǫlva: Seer, foreteller, wise woman, honorary title.


Place names

Birka: An important international market town near the east coast of Sweden, in what is now the Stockholm/Uppsala region.

Hedeby: A large and important international trading center in what is now Germany, a hub between Scandinavia and the rest of Europe.

Konugard: Kiew.

Miklagard: Constantinople, modern Istanbul.

Staraya Ladoga: A settlement at lake Ladoga, start of the riverways south through what is now Russia and Belarus.

Mære: Important political and religious center near Trondheim in Norway.

Nerrike: A small kingdom in what is now the region Närke in central Sweden.

Nygard: Novgorod.

Paaviken: A port on Gotland.

Smaleskia: Gnezdovo, an important settlement near modern Smolensk.

Væsterás: Västerås, a market town in southern Westmanland, central Sweden.

the Væner: Vänern, the second largest lake in Sweden.

 

[Alvlin]

(Modernized/archaic form of first name)

Kildevi/Kiéldvé Thorvaldsdottir - a lost young chieftain's daughter, orphan, 17


The master and matron
Thorlev/Þorrleifr Sigulfson - a merchant and odal farmer, mid-40s
Alfrida/Álfriðr Anundsdottir - his formidable and only wife, early-40s


The brothers
Sigulf/Sígulfr Thorlevson - the big one, 23
Eskil/Áskell Thorlevson - the pretty one, 22
Anund/Ǫnnundr Thorlevson - the weird one, 19
Thorstein/Þorrsteinn Thorlevson - the puppy, 17
Svein/Svéinn Thorlevson - the middle one, 15
Holmger/Holmgarðr Thorlevson - the Good one, 11
Asbjorn/Ásbjǫrn Thorlevson - the nosy one, 8
Thore/Þórre Thorlevson - the sleepwalker, 5
Geir/Geirr Thorlevson - the toddler, 2


At the homestead
Alfjir/Álfjir - Three times widowed, midwife, head of the largest tenant household, workwoman, older than 65, younger than 80
Elfrid/Élfriðr - Daughter of a tenant farmer, workwoman, 13
Eirik/Eiríkr the elder - old tenant in a cottage.
Eirik/Eiríkr the housecarl - an housecarl and Hnefatafl-player, mid-20s
Olaf/Óláfr - a farmhand, late 10s
Thogard/þogarðr - an housecarl and Hnefatafl-player, early 30s


Dead
Mavdna/Mávdná - Kildevis grandmother (amma), a Finn, a vǫlva, a spá-wife, a seiðkonur.
Thorvald/Þorrvàlðr Vibjornson - Kildevis father, minor chieftain, son of Mavdna.
Vibjorn/Víbjǫrn Thorvaldson - Kildevis grandfather, Mavdnas husband.


Extras
Thralls - slaves, ever present, seldom remembered.
Two traveling craftsmen - witnesses and storytellers.

 

[Alvlin]

It took them little more than a week to reach her new home, a rich farmstead on odal land that was once built by a blacksmith, then enriched by a master builder, and now the home of a merchant. On the way, she asked as many questions as she could, and he seemed happy to give out answers, becoming more and more familial in the way he talked and treated her.
"You see, I was raised the second son of a builder, but adventures in my youth left me in wealth," he said one morning as they followed the Væner east. "My oldest brother died when I was busy with my quest for Alfrida, and so I was called back to head the family more or less the same year that we married."
"So she has been the matron of your house from the very beginning?"
"Yes, my brother's widow stayed for our wedding feast, then she returned to her family. But my wife is resourceful, and was raised for it. She took the keys and went to work."
"And now? What does your house do now?"
He smiled and patted the mare.
"Now, my house breeds and trains the best horses silver can buy, bought by jarls and kings. We raise few and sell few, but they are sought after."
"And the land?"
"The land has tenants, but my own men still work the closest fields. One day it may well be the land is split between my many sons, but I have tried to ply them for other trades than heading farmwork."
"What trades? If I am to find myself a husband among them, I would rather be the wife of someone who did something where he could have use of me."
He stopped on the path and turned to her, meeting her eyes with a hand on her shoulder.
"If you break my curse and take one of them off my hands, you would have been useful enough for many years to come. Believe me."
"Well… Thank you. But the 'if' is the key to that sentence, isn't it? If all I manage to do is marry, I don't want to be useless for the rest of my life."
"I wouldn't worry about that. My wife has a way of putting people to use."
"So, haven't you forgotten about your son's trades?"
Thorlev chuckled.
"You don't let go of a question, do you? Of all my sons, my eldest is the only one to have learned my father's craft. He is a good builder and skilled woodworker, strong and often at the centre of things. My second is more like me in the way that he sees the world around him. He has no craft, but he sees a lot and he counts a lot, and I believe he will take over my routes once I am too frail to travel. My third is our horse whisperer. He can make the wildest of younglings take a saddle. My fourth, I sent two years to a blacksmith, but he is too restless to master it yet. He was born the same year as you and still has time to settle."
"That is four, the youngest the same age as me. My guess is that the rest of them won't really be at an age to take a wife?"
He took a moment to consider her question, then he shrugged.
"I know of men who married as early as fourteen, but no, I don't think my son of fifteen winters should be one of them. He is still very much a boy."
She frowned.
"And the women? You haven't mentioned any women but your wife."
"That is because there is none but my wife. She runs the household through thralls and work-women from our tenant families. She does it well, but lacks the company of women like herself."
"No mother? No sisters?"
"She is almost my age, the sisters still alive are married or widowed."
"You have been married long."
"Three and twenty years."
"And she still bears you children?"
"She's more beautiful now than when I first saw her."
Kildevi glanced up at him, looking as sceptical as she sounded.
"That must be love speaking."
He shrugged and smiled, amused by her doubts.
"You're young. Young lust is general, old love is specific."
"And here I thought you didn't give out stories for nothing."

A woman came out on the road to meet them, walking as fast as she could without breaking into an undignified run. Thorlev urged the horse into a trot, hastening to greet her. She slowed her steps when she saw that he wasn't alone, but still she threw herself in her husband's arms, laughing as he lifted her off the ground and twirled her around.
"You had me worried!" She reproached him. "I expected you home days ago!"
Alfrida Anundsdottir wasn't young, the lines in her face tracing back to every joy and every sorrow she had faced, her wealth of dark curls streaked with silver under her cap. But she walked - and twirled - with confidence, back straight, head high. Kildevi saw that she was far from a crone yet.
Alfrida turned her eyes from Thorlev and gave the newcomer an inquisitive look.
"And who is this?"
"This is Kildevi. Trust me for now, we will talk as soon as we can be alone."
She gave him a long look, then nodded.
"Kildevi, do you know how to work a loom?"
"Yes, I believe so."
"That's good enough for me. Come on in."

They walked the last way to the homestead, and from the road she saw a sprawl of houses and outhouses with paths between, gathered around an open yard where a small hall stood, connected to an older longhouse. Forest encircled the farm on two sides, but the road they walked was on open land, with paths leading down through fields and meadows.

Now more members of the household came to greet them, and as soon as they entered the yard Thorlev gathered the closest ones to introduce her.
"This is Kildevi from Vestsetter, she will stay here under my protection. Thorstein, can you show her around? Come, Alfrida. Walk with me."
Kildevi watched as Alfrida followed Thorlev away from the yard. They disappeared behind the longhouse and when she turned she found herself face to face with a gangly youth on the verge of manhood, all knees and shoulders but face open and enthusiastic.
"Hi! Welcome! I am Thorstein, son of Thorlev, who is the son of Sigulf Threefinger the builder. What do you want to see first?"

Thorstein brought her into every house and shack, showing her the granary and bakery, the stables and wood workshop, and soon they had gathered a small tail of people who followed them around the sprawl of the homestead. Three boys with a toddler in tow ran before them as they went, only to then be firmly ushered out of every building they tried to enter except for the hall and the longhouse. She assumed that those were Thorlev's youngest.

Soon she found herself back in the yard outside the hall, where a lad of maybe 15 winters placed himself in their way, nervously trying to square himself up well beyond his build.
"Tall and waifish, white skin and flaxen hair. Did father capture us a vanir?"
"Hey, Svein! Go flatter someone your own size!"
A shadow fell across the boy's face as a man twice his width leisurely threw an arm around his shoulders. The similarity was striking. Both had the same straight nose and curve of lips, but where the boy was crowned with a mop of nut brown hair, the man's hair and beard was dark, clearly favouring his mother.
"You must forgive my little brother. He's trying to be a skald."
"And maybe he will be one day, when he grows up!" He shouted to Svein's back as the boy sullenly skulked off.
"Poor boy. Are you always so hard on him?"
"It's my duty to make sure my brothers stay humble."
He may have had his mother's colours, but his eyes had the same twinkle of humour as his father's.
"But, I am being impolite. I know your name, but you don't know mine yet. I am Sigulf, and I am forged in the fire of being the eldest, hammered relentlessly into this perfect shape."
With a smile he drummed his belly. He was a fairly stout man, built of padded muscle. Tall, but by no means a giant, he looked like someone who carried timber all day and then ate for it.
"You seem no stranger to words yourself, Sigulf-the-eldest."
"Oh, I have practiced. I have eight brothers to keep in place."
"Don't boast yourself blue, brother."
The voice came from behind her, and as Kildevi turned she stared straight into a pair of green eyes, speckled with hazel. The speaker looked so much like Thorlev she had to blink and take pause before she realised he was a good half of his fathers age and, to be fair, prettier, almost too beautiful to be manly. Maybe that was why his face looked closed and guarded?
"Don't believe a word he says, the only things that forged him was meat and the sound of his own voice."
Sigulf gave up a laugh, slapping his brother's back.
"And truer words were seldom spoken! This is Eskil, the one who pushed me off my mother's breast many winters ago."
"I had to, you were eating everything in your way."
"I was a big boy. Can't have a bairn crawl around hungry, can you?"
But although Eskil smiled, he didn't look amused.
"Don't judge us for our bickering, Kildevi Thorvaldsdottir. We don't see many great men's daughters around here."
"You know who I am?"
"I, for one, care for our father's obligations. I know about the oath he left to fulfil, and I also know what he thought of it. I am glad he brought you here."
Sigulf looked at them both, eyes suddenly serious.
"I didn't know Thorvald of Vestsetter had a daughter."
"I did. But I didn't know he had two."

Alfrida came back to show Kildevi the house, and then helped her put out sleepskins and pillows on a bench near the hearth of the old longhouse, just across the midship from the enclosed bed that she herself shared with Thorlev. A curtain now hung from the side beam to the wall, tied open with a woven band. Alfrida thoughtfully stroked the reddish wool, wrinkled from storage.
"It has been a long time since we had this curtain up between the open benches. Until now, only men have slept here with little need for lines to be marked." She looked up at Kildevi with a sardonic smile. "You will be sleeping very close to young men unused to having women of their own standing around, but trust me, they will guard you from each other, and I will be just across the hearth. The worst you can expect is for my youngest three to sleep on you."
Kildevi smiled back.
"I am used to open benches, matron. And as we all know, there are no secrets inside a longhouse, I don't need much more protection than that."
The older woman looked around the room, at the open spaces around the door leading into the hall, and on the other side at benches even more sparsely lived in around the door leading to the outroom, stockroom and pantry.
"I look forward to one day having children run around here, other than my own. We have room for more. Many more."
Kildevi dug her hand into the sheepskins on the bench, thinking of the richly carved beams she had seen in the small hall, the painted walls with many wall hangings, and the buckles on Alfridas' apron.
"Your family seems to prosper."
Her new matron looked up.
"But what good is wealth without children? What good are trinkets with no daughters to spoil?"
She shook her head, the moment passed.
"But enough of that, tonight we celebrate, tomorrow we will go through your duties. "

That night, the beer was flowing and poultry roasted on spits outside. Kildevi was dozing, warm of both drink and fire, when Sigulf came over and threw himself down at her side on the bench.
"Look at him," he whispered with a nod towards Eskil who watched them from across the hearth. "He thinks I'm trying to earn your favour."
"Are you?"
"Don't know yet. Let me think."
He put his hand on her cheek and pretended to look at every angle of her face, then he smiled. "I definitely am now." His hand lingered for a few seconds before he withdrew and looked at Eskil. "My advice to you for tonight is that if you want him to fight a wild boar for you, just smile and act as if you like me."
That wouldn't be a hard act. She was used to people keeping a distance, only sitting next to her if all other seats were taken. The sudden closeness as he lent in to whisper, the casual way his hand rested on her face, made her heart beat faster, blood rising on her cheeks.
"What if I'd rather not watch a grown man wrestle a boar? Wouldn't it be better if he did something useful?"
Sigulf shrugged.
"Suit yourself. But it would be good entertainment."
Kildevi couldn't hold back a smile and Sigulf grinned.
"Yes, just like that! Now he can't let me win."
"I didn't know that I was game?"
"You're not, but you must have known that this would turn into one. Think about it, one woman for nine cursed men."
"I didn't think much about it. And I refuse to call all nine of you men." Kildevi nodded to where little Geir had fallen asleep under a table, thumb in his mouth. "So, who would the players be?"
Sigulf moved closer again, leaning in with casual familiarity he discreetly pointed to the young men as he introduced them.
"Five of us are old enough to care for girls at all. Svein is too young to play, he can't handle a spear, much less a wife. Thorstein is two winters older and thirsty for adventure, but he looks up too much to the rest of us. He won't challenge his idols. That leaves me, Eskil and Anund."
Kildevi glanced around the hearth. Eskil kept his eyes on them. Anund didn't. He sat next to his copper haired brother with eyes only for the tools in his hands, dark curls tucked behind his ears as he carved on something hidden in his palm.
"Tell me about you."
"Mother claims that I am like the man our father is, Eskil like the man our father was and Anund unlike any man she's ever met."
His eyes twinkled.
"She also says that I need a good talking to, Eskil a good whooping and only the gods know what Anund needs. I don't think he's that strange, but she can't understand what drives him."
Sigulf looked at her again. His eyes were a mottled blue, turned gray in the warm light.
"So, there you have it. The board is set and I've just made the first move."
Kildevi smiled and glanced up at him, trying to hide her shyness behind coyness.
"And if I refuse to play?"
"Then you win the price of watching us make utter fools out of ourselves."
He bumped her shoulder with a smile.
"No, I think I have messed enough with my little brother for tonight. Welcome, Kildevi the bright. Keep on mother's good side, and you'll be fine."
And with that he left her. She looked to where Thorlev sat with his arm around Alfrida, whispering something in her ear that made her laugh and slap his arm in jest. She felt jealous. It was a strange new feeling. Did she envy Alfrida for his attention? No. The thought of Thorlevs body felt awkward and strange when she explored it. Did she envy them the ease with which they closed all distance between them, both safe in the knowledge he was welcome home and always happy to return? Maybe. Her chest ached for that kind of belonging, yet it felt strange to think that she might one day belong in this house, or to someone in it.

 

[Alvlin]

When she woke up the next morning, her mind was still in her dreams. They had been wild, chaotic, and more than ever she longed for her amma, for her wrinkly hand to part the curtains and help her make sense of them. They had met in the night, more in a smell and a presence than in form, but Mavdna had watched her as she… She couldn't remember. But whatever it was she had forgotten, she knew that she had been both hunter and prey in a chase through an unknown forest where elves and spirits laughed at her as she ran by. With that lingering unease in her stomach, she rose to a new day.


"You really do shine in sunlight." She turned around and saw Eskil walk towards her, spring sun turning his copper hair a reddish gold. "There is poetry in the fact that the very sun that makes your hair shine like pale gold will kiss that paleness away."

With a firm hand, he pulled her into the shade. She had forgotten since yesterday how beautiful he was, sun-kissed skin still pale against reddish blond lashes, a short beard following the slant of finely sculpted cheekbones. He shared his fathers sinewy build, built more like an ash than an oak, but mainly he just had this… this glamour. It lay around him like an echo of old stories. Kildevi suddenly felt sure he had a fate. Her grandmother would have seen it, but all she herself could reach was an insight that he would somehow be a name in a story. Thoughtfully he stroked a lock of hair away from her face.

"I am surprised your father kept you a secret. If I had a fair haired daughter, I would put her at my side on every feast and wait for suitors to form a line."

"My father never wanted daughters."

He frowned.

"And here we pine for them. Still, I find it strange that he tucked you away. He drove a hard bargain for your sister's marriage."

"Are you asking what's wrong with me?"

"I meant no insult to you, I swear. And I shouldn't have questioned a man in front of his bereaved daughter. Forgive me."

She looked down on her feet.

"My father was a well feared man. That doesn't mean he was a nice one."

There it was, that gaze, searching and seeing, snakelike eyes in green and hazel glueing her to the spot.

"I will happily speak ill of him, then. Father has taken you under his wing. You are a part of this house now, and no one gets to hurt one of ours."

He was so close now her belly screamed, not scared of him but of what the scene might look like from the outside. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice them except for Anund, who sat a few steps away with his carving knife, watching them.

"Why is Anund always so simply dressed?"

Eskil blinked, the intensity of his gaze broken.

"Anund? Yes, he only ever wants the same brown. Mother has tried to give him finery, believe me, she has tried, but he just nods and then does as he pleases."

"He wasn't here this morning for neither work nor play. What does he do?"

"He tends the horses."

"The son of a wealthy odal man tends the horses?"

"Yes. He trains them, and men come from afar to buy them. It's what he does. It's all he does."

"Now I remember, Thorlev told me. That is a great gift."

"Yes, but he does nothing with it. He could have been well known and well respected if only he'd cared, but he… just doesn't."

She turned her head and for just a moment her eyes met Anund's. His gaze was steady, and he nodded once in a small greeting before turning his attention back to the work in his hands. There was something there, some sort of recognition. Or maybe she just fooled herself into seeing what she wanted to see.


When she lay down to sleep that night something hard and sharp dug in between her shoulder blades. On the sleepskins, half hidden in the pelt, she found a bear. It was small, small enough to hide in her palm, and the snout was beautifully textured with detailed lines in the pelt. It looked like a piece from some sort of gaming board, but if so it wasn't any game she knew of. Silently, she slid it into her pouch. In the day she had been in this house, she had only seen one person carve stone. Looking around, she met Anund's gaze where he lay awake further down the benches. He nodded once, then turned to sleep.


"Why a bear?"

"Sæl Kildevi," he greeted without turning.

"Thank you, Anund. It's beautiful, but why a bear?"

"If our yard is to become a board, you need your own piece to move."

"That was very thoughtful of you. But why a bear?"

"It felt appropriate."

"Thorlev told you, didn't he?"

"Told me what?"

She searched his face, and maybe, maybe there was a shadow of a smile. Or not. Maybe she just saw what she expected again.

"What is your own piece?"

"I don't play."

"Sigulf thought you would."

"Sigulf knows others like he knows himself."

"And you are not like him?"

He didn't reply straight away, instead he pushed the awl through the bridle he was repairing and forced the needle through. After two more stitches he spoke again.

"You are my sister now. A brother does not leave his sister trapped between a wolf and an eagle."

"He seems rather friendly for a wolf."

"Don't mistake him for a wolfhound."

"And you think I would be safer with the eagle?"

Anund didn't reply, then he shrugged and fastened the thread. For a moment, silence fell again. Kildevi frowned.

"Do you always speak in riddles?"

"They aren't riddles to me."

"How can I be your sister when you don't know me?"

"I don't have to. Welcome, Sister Bear."


Alfrida had said that the longhouse had room for more. One night at a time, Kildevi came to agree. She was used to sleeping in a packed room, warmed by bodies all through winter. Here, she woke up cold even in spring, the closest person Anund unless you counted Thore who was five and spun like a water wheel when he slept, sneezing and snivelling all through spring. At the other side of her she had the drapes, and on the other side of the cloth the three other younglings lay as a barricade between her and the rest of their older brothers. It was a relief when the children got used to her, and Asbjorn started to roll beneath the drape to cuddle up during the night, Holmger following to spoon his brother. That was another reason to marry, she concluded after waking up freezing one of the last nights with hoarfrost. A man would no doubt be warmer than a bony eight year old on one side and the feet of a five year old on the other.


But now it grew milder with each passing week, and when Thorlev prepared to go to Birka she no longer suffered from freezing mornings.

"I am sorry I haven't been of much use to you yet," Kildevi said when they had a moment alone. "I don't know where to begin."

"Nonsense. You make Alfrida's life easier, that is enough for now."

"But almost two moons have come and gone and I am no closer to breaking your curse - or marrying a son."

"Let it take time, girl. Settle in. Let the boys show you their best side for a while and when they tire of it, you'll see them more clearly. I still hope that you will be the key to make us free, but I never believed it would happen with a drink and a song."

"Really?"

"Really. You are a bit old to foster, but the way I see it… Best case, our curse is broken and maybe I will gain a daughter by marriage. Worst case, I will still have honoured your family's memory by taking you in. Neither are bad." He winked. "And you make good socks."


Thorlev left, and with him he brought Svein and Thorstein. None of the two older sons wanted to come, and no one wondered why, their old animosity clearly brought to the brink of war.

"I can't believe you are leaving me in this mess!"

Kildevi had heard Alfrida wheeze at him one late night when they thought the longhouse slept.

"This is your doing, you should deal with it!"

"Oh Cariad, I wouldn't leave you with anything you can't handle."

"Don't you Welsh me like some stupid maiden!"

Then their voices became a murmur, and she couldn't make out the words as they continued.


It took two days for Alfrida to be proven right.


Standing at the loom Kildevi suddenly heard a commotion from the yard outside. Just as she put down the shuttle to go and see what happened, Sigulfs shadow fell over her from the open door. When he came closer, she couldn't hold back a gasp.

"Who did this to you?"

"Eskil. He can pack a punch, I'll give him that."

Blood trickled down his face from both lip and eyebrow, and she lifted her apron to wipe the worst off his chin. The left side of his face had already started to swell and she handed him a rag from the sack of scraps.

"You need cold water on that eye."

He sat down on the bench she had just left and gave her a sideways smile.

"You think this is bad? You should see him. He won't be his pretty self for a while, if ever."

"You fought him."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Sigulf shrugged, then grimaced from sudden pain.

"He challenged me."

"Why? What did you say this time? You have kept on pushing and pushing, as if..."

She trailed off. Their eyes met in silence.

"That was your goal all along, to get him to challenge you. All the teasing, all the … …the mind games. And you used me. You threw me in his face."

"So I taught you a lesson too."

"Remember your words to me that first night? Your mother was wrong. You are nothing like your father."

"Oh, I'm not, am I? Why do you think he brought you here in the first place?"

Her heart pounded, too hard and too loud for her thoughts to break through her anger.

"Because only a desperate woman would have any of you?"

"And that's the point, isn't it? You are a desperate woman, and if he was a simpler man you would be mine by birthright. Instead he has thrown you to us like a bone to hungry dogs."

She paused in her movement, staring at his face with its broken lip and one eye blinded by swelling. Spitting blood into the rag he continued.

"Why do you think he left any one of us with a choice? He's testing us, watching how we solve this, and which one of us is left standing."

"He has still given me the choice of who I accept."

He snorted, a short laugh that turned into a cough, then he clutched his ribs with a grimace.

"And what a choice it is! I don't envy you. I know that you resent me right now because I'm more than you assumed me to be, but Eskil is still exactly the man he was yesterday, concerned only with his own pride and glory. I hope that I humbled him today, but if you ever trust a word I say again, know this: He only plays to win, then he will lose interest in you." Sigulfs voice softened.

"I would ask your council. I wouldn't question how you run our household. I wouldn't bring a mistress to your hearth who could challenge your authority. I have watched my parents. I want what they have."

"There is a third brother, you never mention him."

"Anund? I love him, but he has no honour. You would mend his socks while he bedded his horses."

"Maybe that's what I want in a husband. To be left alone."

"But you wouldn't be left alone. Who would honour the protection of a man who has none?"

"Yet he has never lied to me."

"Neither have I."

Kildevi turned to leave, blood boiling but still outwardly calm.

"Where are you going?"

"We have been alone for too long already."

He laughed, and once again it turned into a cough and a groan.

"Don't worry, no one in their right mind would think I'm man enough to claim any reward in this shape."

"I am not worried about that. I need to see to Eskil."

"Kildevi, calm yourself. You are wiser than to side with him just because you're angry with me."

"This has nothing to do with my anger. I have scales to balance."


She found Eskil tended by Alfrida and one of the thralls. When she entered, her matron pushed a bowl of water into her hands and rose.

"This fight was for you. You clean him up."

"This wasn't about me, and you know it."

Alfrida looked as if she was about to punch her, but instead she took two breaths and closed her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was right between a growl and a whisper.

"Maybe this wasn't only for you, but it was about you this time."

She paused, then threw a clean rag over the bowl in Kildevis hands before she continued.

"I hope you really did suckle that bear. And I hope it gave you sejðr strong enough to do what my husband thinks you can, because I will not see any of my sons killed by a hand that I have washed and wiped."

Kildevi heard her disappear behind the curtain, quick, hard steps over the floor, then she looked down on the man in the bed.


Eskil looked terrible. Barely awake, he tried to focus his eyes, but the effort started a new convulsion and he dry-heaved spastically, then fell back on the mattress. His face was hard to look at, the straight nose now crooked and swollen, his forehead disfigured by a bump the size of half an egg. As softly as she could, she wiped his face clean of blood and sweat, while the thrall woman washed stains of puke from his chest and sides.

"There is nothing more you can do here," the thrall said with a low voice. "He will be here for a while, the matron told me to see to him."


So Kildevi left, she left the house, she left the yard, until finally she heard the sound of soft neighs and hooves on grass. Anund sat on a boulder in the horse paddock, knife in hand, carving a limestone.

"Sæl, Kildevi," he said, without looking up. "I expected you today."

"I need your help."

His eyebrows rose, but his gaze didn't leave his work.

"You need a fast horse to leave, or a raven carved out of limestone?"

"Neither, I need a helper."

"There are thralls to ask."

"Not that kind of helper. I need someone to bind me to this world while my mind travels."

Anund was silent for a moment.

"You know what they call men who do sejðr. That is women's magic."

"I have no woman to ask."

"You could ask Mother?"

"I think it has to be you."

"Why?"

She swallowed.

"I don't think you would have been born this way if not for the vǫlvas curse."

"That's an… interesting idea."

"I don't think you feel like a part of this world, and that is why I trust you with helping me guard the bridge back."

At this, he looked up and watched her intently.

"You trust me. Then I must trust you to hide our doings and keep your mouth shut. Can you do that?"

"Yes, but I will need your mother's help. I can't get away unnoticed without her."

"No one else. None of the men can know."

"None of the men. Only Alfrida."

"Then yes, Sister Bear. I will shape-shift to woman for you."


Beneath the earth, or slightly over it, small creatures danced around Fire.

"Is she not awakening?" The little folk whispered, and Fire said "We meet sometimes but she can only feel and sometimes listen, not See or Talk or Walk."

"How long can it take? We are alone, with no one but ourselves. We are restless. Water is spilt without warning, gifts not what we ask for and all songs to call us seem forgotten."

"I do my best", said Fire. "But, she is a stubborn one, and unlike her amma, fearful."

 

[Alvlin]

Sigulf avoided her for the next few days, and Kildevi was just as happy not having her feelings torn up by having to talk to him. But one cloudy day, he suddenly stood there again in the door of the loom house, blocking the bleak sunlight.

"It seems this is where I find you nowadays," he said conversationally. "Is it by your choice or my mother's?"

She didn't reply, just pushed the beater hard up against the fabric.

"Are you still angry?"

"Yes."

"When do you plan to forgive me?"

"I don't know."

"Be reasonable Kildevi, I beg you. This couldn't be solved in any other way than by a test of strength. He has walked around like a cockerel ever since you came to us, knowing he would whisk away our only chance of a worthy wife with a smile and a song, just because he's the pretty one. Anund might not care, but I… I want a home, not just a house. You don't understand what it does to a man to not see something so simple in…"

"I don't understand?!"

Cutting him off, she slammed the beater to the floor and turned to face him.

"No, you don't understand! I came here, invisible. That first night, you were the one who sat down with me, you talked to me as if I mattered, you touched me… That was the first time in three years that someone had willingly touched me. I was one nudge away from going with you then and there. Not him. You. Don't you dare speak about longing for simple things!"

He blinked.

"Going with me?"

"I mean that you could have 'whisked me away' into the woods that night. One more drink and I wouldn't have cared who saw us."

The look on his face deflated her anger. He just stared at her, stupefied. Suddenly she felt awkward.

"No one had ever seen me as someone worth courting before, and you were… funny. Strong. Witty."

With a deep breath she regained her posture and when she spoke again, her voice was steady and collected.

"I have known for a long time that I would accept if you made Thorlev an offer for me."

He still looked dumbfounded, but now he met her eyes with a small grimace.

"I am not a very beautiful man, but I am funny."

"But you are beautiful. You are so blinded by having a brother who looks like Baldr you can't see yourself. Just as your strength doesn't make him weak."

She sighed.

"And that's why you're both idiots. And that's why I'm angry with you. I know things about this whole mess that you don't - that you don't have the slightest clue about - but you are so full of yourself, so utterly, insufferably in love with your own cleverness it never even occurred to you that you might not know everything."

"Well, I know now that you're not afraid to hurt my pride."

"No, I'm not. Your mother has taught me a lot."

"I am not in love with my own cleverness."

"Yes, you are."

"I actually am very clever."

Kildevi started laughing, and soon he joined her, their mirth washing away the tension. She could breathe deeply again. How long had she held her breath short and shallow? Days? Weeks?

"So, what is it I don't know?"

"I can't tell you."

"If I ask my father for you as soon as he comes home, will you accept?"

"If you wait until slaughter, I will."

"That's half a summer and some."

"Yes, and I have conditions. You will not tease Eskil needlessly. You will not rub his face in the fact that you beat him. You will walk with your back straight, without starting any pissing contests."

"Won't everyone get suspicious?"

It took her a moment to realise he wasn't all joking, and she raised an eyebrow.

"You won, and the price was for your brother to spend only-his-norne-knows how long benchbound in the darkest corner of the longhouse. You have little left to prove. Be a bigger man."

He took her hand and pulled. His tunic smelled of wool and sweat as he wrapped his free arm around her waist to draw her in.

"Well, at least one part of me is getting bigger."

But she didn't pick up on the bawdy joke. Short of breath, her head suddenly spun. Fire whispered in her head, drowning out both sense and sound. What harm would it do? Just this once, why shouldn't you? Do you feel the power, little mountain spring, the rush of thawing snow, turning the trickle of winter into a river in spring? Do you think the bear thought of cubs when she mated? With a low snarl she threw her arms around his neck, wrapping her leg around his thigh. As Sigulfs hand hunched up her shift and kirtle she jumped, wrapping both legs around his waist. Back against the wall he slid down on the floor, pulling her down over him.


Through the sound of her own heartbeats she suddenly heard raindrops falling, and the world came rushing back.

"This. Is not. A good. Idea".

The words came out forced, wheezed between clenched teeth.

"It seems like a great idea to me," he mumbled back, hands roaming her thighs higher and higher up the shift.

"You can't even ask for me for half a summer and some. We can't do this until all is set."

"Yes we can."

"Mating leads to cubs."

At this his hands stopped, face visibly taken aback.

"I'm only named a wolf, I don't make puppies."

"Does the wording matter?"

"I myself was a very big and strong infant for someone born too soon."

"Yes, but this is much too soon."

"You seemed quite eager just a moment ago."

"I am."

She let herself fall off him, careful not to look too closely at him as he lay outstretched on the dirt floor of the loom house.

"But I have gone seventeen summers without, I can wait a season more."

He raised his head, looking down at his tunic pushed out like a tent through shirt and breeches.

"And what am I supposed to do with that?"

"Save the sinister stag for slaughter?"

"It's slaughter now, is it?"

With a smile she drew herself up. Standing over him she looked down on his face, still bruised from the fight but also shining with mirth.

"Guard your tongue, or it's that stag that gets slaughtered."


Nothing had changed, she told herself. No request had been made, no oaths sworn, and yet it grew increasingly hard to pretend that nothing had happened. Soon, she started avoiding him when other people were around, and after about a week little Asbjorn, who somehow seemed to be everywhere and see everything, asked her in front of the entire household if Sigulf had made her angry because she always seemed to leave when he came in. She could give no reply that he fully accepted, but the rest of the brothers agreed that Sigulf had probably shoved his foot in his mouth again.


Eskil left his sickbed after a week and was walking around, slowly and carefully at first but soon he spent most of his days on his feet or at least sitting up. He was tired and sunlight seemed to pain him, but it was generally assumed that the most long lasting damage he had suffered was to the shape of his nose and the size of his pride, both of which famously could afford to take a beating. More or less housebound for a while longer, he took to hanging around the women while they worked, sometimes helping out with tasks that a man could do, sometimes just being there. He seemed relaxed, and Kildevi noted how he changed when the men came home in the evenings, the open and expressive face once again hard and guarded. It was obvious that the children adored him. More often than not he had Holmger, Asbjorn, Thore and little Geir following him like a row of geesling behind the goose, and when the small ones had tasks to fulfil he would sit down to patiently instruct them, sometimes stealing a nose or improvising short poems about silly things.

"I wouldn't mind if he kept to the house for the next ten years," Alfrida said one day, only half in jest, when Eskil sat in front of the hearth showing his three smallest brothers how to sharpen their knives. "I have almost gotten used to doing my work uninterrupted."

"Just ten?" replied Elfrid, a daughter of one of the nearby tenants. She was at that age when neither body nor mind could fully decide if she was a child playing with dolls or a young woman fulfilling her duties, and she looked at Eskil with the adoration that girls that age reserve for the unachievable.

"Yes, my own children won't be interrupting me much longer. I believe I am near the end of my childbearing years. If I have one more it is probably my last, if I have two, then we know Froya is smiling at me. It's time to pass the torch to younger women."

Elfrids mind jumped straight to a conclusion and she glanced at Kildevi.

"So, it is going to be Eskil, isn't it? He is so… It's obvious, right?" She lent closer, whispering: "He looks even better with his nose broken."

"I don't know. I don't even know if any of them will ask Thorlev for me."

At this, Alfrida snorted. Elfrid didn't give up, though.

"But if only one of them did, who would you want it to be?"

"Sigulf, of course!" replied an old woman who sat bent over a spindle. Her name was Alfjir, and she was the widow in charge of the largest tenant household. "He is the eldest and the manliest, seems honourable and dependable. He is also of a good size to sleep on. Will keep your bed warm in the winters, mark my words."

"A good size to sleep on, or with?" Elfrid said with a giggle.

"In my experience", Alfjir replied, spreading her grandmotherly wisdom, "you can see the length and girth from the height and width of the man. I have buried three husband's, and it was true of all of them. Or what do you say, matron?"

Alfrida just smiled.

"I have bathed them all, but a mother won't tell. I just say this: You are comparing the wrong brothers, if that's what you're after."

Elfrid and Alfjir both gave a little murmur of surprise and Kildevi giggled, feeling way out of her depth.

"I… I never took that into consideration."

"Oh, aren't you an innocent one?" Alfjir teased. "An ash-braided girl like you, such a stranger to men?"

"After a week in the woods with my husband, that innocence is surprising."

Kildevi expected a shocked silence, but all of the other women were laughing along, Alfrida even giving her a wink.

"I… I didn't. I swear, he didn't touch me."

Alfrida raised an eyebrow.

"Well well, sometimes they do get wiser with age."

But Kildevi noticed that Alfrida didn't really seem surprised at all.

"Or he didn't want to pop the seal off of his son's keg, if you know what I mean…"

Alfjir was clearly enjoying herself and Alfrida showed no sign of offence.

"Oh Alfjir, there are ways to drink from a keg without popping the seal."

"Yes, yes, and you can nibble on carrots if you don't have meat, but they don't keep you full for very long, do they?"

"What are you four laughing about?" called Eskil from the hearth.

"Men!" replied Alfjir, who was the only one who no longer would ever have to tend to one.


Three weeks after the brawl, Eskil was soundly on his feet again and no longer bound to stay inside by constant headaches. The first day after he returned to the outside, Sigulf was waiting for her by the door of the longhouse.

"Finally", he said as they walked over the yard towards the outhouses. "I thought he'd never leave so I could talk to you again."

"Well, there is no rule against us talking. We have talked since the first day I came here "

"True, but I don't want him to hear. Remember that my brother is a spirit of misery, here to crush every chance of anyone ever being happy."

She smiled, jokingly slapping his arm.

"That's not true!"

"No, but these last few weeks it has felt true."

"He has actually been wonderful, especially with the boys. Maybe your mother was right - he just needed a good whooping."

"Don't use the word wonderful about him again, it makes my sword arm twitch."

"Don't worry, I have missed you too."

They had reached the hen house where she had pretended to have an errand, and before she went inside she paused and bit her lip.

"When can I see you again? Alone. For more than twenty steps."

He stopped to think for a few breaths.

"If you go past the smithy, there is a path leading into the woods. If you follow that path, you will find the old smokehouse. It hasn't been used for a while. Meet me there tomorrow morning, I'll make sure I break something that I need to repair."

With that he winked and went on his way.


When she found the old smokehouse, he wasn't there. It was empty and in need of some repairs but otherwise it seemed fully functional. The smell of old smoke had sunk into the timber, and for a moment she was reminded of that first night when her home had been burnt, all fighting men killed, women and children taken. Had Thorlev been among the ones she saw, the ones who had come with torches and spears, rounding up the thralls, farmhands and work women before putting torches to the roof of the longhouse? She hadn't stayed to watch the rest, instead she had crawled through the meadow in the dark and disappeared into the woods, through grounds that she knew almost as well as the grounds knew her. She hadn't thought about the past for good while now, and doing so now made her uneasy. Better if her old life had died in the fire.

"You came!"

Sigulf came walking up the path, carrying an axe with a broken handle.

"How long do you think it takes to set a new handle to an axe?" He said with a wink.

"I don't know, it depends on how good a woodworker you are."

"Let's say this is that one time the first one cracks."

"That should be more time than I have before someone in the house becomes suspicious."

He threw out his hands, looking around the sunny glade where the old smokehouse loomed over them.

"So, what do you want to do?"

"I have heard there are ways for a man to drink from a keg without popping the seal."


Kildevi did not sleep well that night. Three times she woke between restless slumbers, and her dreams were vivid, more real than they had ever been. The third time she woke up, Alfrida was sitting next to her on her sleeping bench, softly drying her face with a piece of cloth.

"You are bathing in sweat. How are you feeling?"

"I… I am not sure."

"You were dreaming."

"Yes."

"Anything you want to tell me?"

"I don't…"

She shook her head, trying to clear her mind.

"I… I wandered, and I saw myself. I think I will need the tooth of a bear, two cat skins and the pelt of a hare."

Alfrida lent closer, soft worry turned to intense interest.

"It was those kinds of dreams. I will make sure you get what you need."

"And I… I think I saw a path, north into the woods. It's not much, but it's a beginning."

Alfrida lifted her hand, stroking a sweaty lock of hair from the younger woman's forehead.

"I spoke to a sejðkona once. She came here to give prophecy. She told me… One of the things she told me was that her thought had opened to hear fate the first time she laid with a man." Alfrida watched her intently, searching for clues, and Kildevi did her best to keep her face passive.

"So, either you are meeting with two of my sons behind my back, or you meet with one and have chosen an ergi. I know you won't tell me which, but know that I am willing to look away from a lot that I would otherwise not, to bend rules and break laws as long as you stab the cursed hag in the chest with her own needle." The last words were spat out with vengeful fury, and Alfrida paused to take a few deep breaths before she continued, voice softer.

"But one thing I won't allow to happen is a full out feud between brothers. Do you understand?"

Kildevi nodded.

"Yes, Matron."

"Good. I will find your bear tooth, your cat skins and your hare. If you say you need to go, I will ask no questions. But I beg you not to wait too long", she looked down at her hands, "because I will not let Thorlev into my bed again until this spell is broken, and I don't know how long I can fend him off once he gets back."

Alfrida suddenly sounded weary, as if the darkness of the sleeping longhouse allowed her to show a shadow of her sadness and loss.

"There are no guarantees for who a child will be, or if it will live, but then at least it would be born with a free fate and not cursebound."

"You put a lot of trust in me."

"Anund calls you Sister Bear. As a child, he always said strange things, but he never called anyone sister."

 

[Alvlin]

Summer slowly turned from sunmonth to haymonth. Thorlev returned, but quickly left again, eager to be done with all errands before harvest. Kildevi spent more and more time in the woods. Most often she was with Anund, showing him secrets she herself only knew by teaching, not experience. Sometimes Sigulf managed to steal half a morning, either in the smokehouse or so far away from the paths that no one would pass them by accident. They knew each other by now, by skin and kiss if nothing more, and with time they grew bold, less and less vigilant of being found out. Thus came the day when Eskil suddenly stood at the door of the smokehouse, staring at her naked form on the floor, his brother's seed glistening on the floor boards.

"You're lucky Mother has gathered the tenants,"

he whispered, voice so filled with rage she could hear creatures of malice gather outside. He lifted his gaze from her to Sigulf.

"I'll meet you in the yard. With all of them as witnesses."


Not much later, she sat next to Alfrida at the high bench, set up to receive rent but now used as a seat of justice.
Eskil spat.

"I accuse you of seduction. You have soiled her for me. She's argr, you are a treacherous dog."

Sigulf lent forward and the two squared up to each other in the middle of the yard. Sigulf was bigger, but Eskil was almost the same height and better with his weapons.

"I will take her as my wife, and then no honour has been soiled. At least not hers, by me."

"Wife, you say? Have you paid her mundr?"

Silence fell. Sigulf stood there for a moment, just breathing.

"Her father is dead and so are all her brothers and uncles. There is no one to pay, and no dowry to claim. Who would set a bride price?"

Eskils eyebrows rose, eyes shining with malice. Kildevi met Alfrida's gaze, but found nothing there. Her matron's face was hard and unreadable.

"Ah, but a wife not paid for is just a concubine. A concubine is just a servant. If someone should, I don't know, mistake her for a thrall one night, he would only have to pay you a few chickens in reparations, two more if he left marks…"

"...you weakling of a weasel!"

Sigulfs hand was half way to his sword when a voice echoed through the yard from the bench.

"I will speak."

Alfrida rose, although she didn't need to. All eyes were on her in her full regalia, chest glittering in silver and glass as she stared from one son to the other. Finally, she turned to the gathered free men.

"I will now finally tell a truth that no man here knows, one that should have been spoken long ago. The girl was not brought here just to marry."

She paused. The yard was so silent one could hear the mice rustle in the houses. Sigulf and Eskil both stood there, frozen.

"Kildevi Thorvaldsdottir is a spákona, the daughter of Thorvald Vibjornsson who was born of Mávdná, given to his father Vibjorn by the jæmtish finns. She was left fatherless and brought here by my husband, to break a vǫlva's mixed blessing on this household. She is now not only under his protection, but through a ruling at the last þing he has taken on all fatherly duties. Is that not so, Kildevi?"

"Yes, Matron. It is."

Everyone's eyes were fixed on Alfrida, except for Sigulf who had grown pale. He stared at Kildevi as if he'd seen a ghost. Alfrida met her eyes and nodded.

"So, here is what I say is fair. A few weeks ago, my son Sigulf, before witnesses, questioned my son Eskil's worth and motives as a man. Eskil challenged him and although he lost, he fought fiercely. That should settle any claims made about his manhood, yet leave no room for reparations."

Eskil opened his mouth to protest, but she held up her hand and continued.

"What is not settled is reparations for seduction and deceit, nor the question of a bride price. Both brothers acted in the faith, good or bad, that they had one wife between them, and Sigulf went behind his brother's back and wilfully seduced her. Reparations must be paid for that."

"Reparations? Mother, you can't be serious, if father was here…"

She turned. Sigulf fell silent, but his stare didn't flutter or falter.

"If my husband was here, he would speak. Now I speak for him. Anyone who wants to challenge that right may take it up with the gods."

No one stepped forward. Kildevi held her breath.

"So, these are the terms I see just and fit:
Sigulf, you will take Kildevi as your wife. You will do so in just two weeks time, to undo the damage you have done your father by seducing a woman under his protection. A mundr must be paid, and that will be as follows: You will give your father two skins of cat, one skin of hare and one tooth of bear. This, although symbolic in nature, must be paid before the wedding. A price will be negotiated between you and your father when he returns, and so will the size of the morning gift."

Alfrida paused, and looked from one son to the other before she continued.

"Sigulf, your reparations for seduction are set by conditions: If your wife can break the vǫlvas bond, you will then pay half the mundr for your brother Eskil when he takes a wife.
If your wife cannot break the bond, you will forego your rights as the first born son. Both your inheritances will be put into one and split between you, granting both the same share, as if none of you were born before the other.
Do you accept these terms?"

Eskil nodded.

"Yes, I do."

Sigulf turned to Kildevi and she met his gaze with what she hoped was calm confidence. He did not look happy. Breath shallow she counted her own heartbeats not to let her gaze falter. Without breaking the stare, Sigulf replied.

"Yes. I do."

"Then you have both agreed, in the presence of everyone here, that these terms are fair and just. The scales are balanced."

She then turned to Kildevi.

"Do you have any claims on Eskil Thorlevsson for the insults he just levied at you?"

Kildevi didn't dare to look at Eskil. Gaze safely fixed on her matron she replied: "Nothing but a few chickens in reparations."

Alfrida's face didn't change, but she turned once again to the men in the yard.

"Eskil, do you agree to give Kildevi four speckled hens as reparations for insult, to be her own property as she enters her union?"

Eskil looked at his mother, then to Kildevi, then back again. He heaved a sigh.

"Yes. I do. And I'll give her two more for marks left."

At this, Alfrida sat down on the bench. She didn't look pleased - yet.


Later that night though, Alfrida showed clearly how pleased she was. Some preparations had already been in place to feed the visiting tenants, but now a casket of beer was opened, meat was roasting, spirits rising. Kildevi did not share in the revelry. People gave her a wider berth than before, probably out of newfound respect for her knowledge, but the change was unnerving and uncomfortable. Sigulf refused to even look at her and avoided her every effort to talk, so she kept in the background, miserable. Late in the evening she saw him rise and wander off, and she followed him out into the yard and across it, into the paths between the outhouses where she caught up with him.

"Sigulf, please, talk to me!"

He looked at her, at last, and suddenly she wished he hadn't. Drink had unmasked his temper and for the first time she felt herself shrink from the way he towered over her. When he finally spoke, his voice was harsh and unfriendly.

"What do you want?"

"I thought… Shouldn't we…"

He grabbed her, hard enough for his fingers to dig into her arm when he pulled her to him. He stood there for a moment, breathing heavy as he stared down at her. Then his eyes seemed to find some focus again and suddenly he let go, almost pushing her away.

"I need to fight or fuck something. So, get down or get out of my sight."

Afraid to turn, she staggered backwards. When she was safely out of reach, he snorted.

"Didn't think so. Enjoy your chickens."

With that he turned and walked away, only slightly swaying.


Kildevi was pulled from her sleep in the early hours of the morning by someone pressing against her back under the sleepskins. This wasn't someone rolling over in their sleep, throwing an arm over her by accident. She felt the arm wrap around her waist pulling her into an embrace, then a beard tickled her neck as someone pushed a face into her hair and tried to dig their nose all the way in to her scalp. She froze, waiting. If either of them had come to make good on their threats, she… Her thoughts faltered. No, there was nothing she could do. She couldn't come up with a single action that would end better for her than silently doing nothing after being found with a man she wasn't even promised to.

"What are you doing?" she wheezed.

The whisper all but disappeared in the snores and sleeping murmurs around them.

"Don't worry, I'm not here for… what's it called. That. Is a bench a bed? Is it bedding if it's not a bed? It's usually not a bed. It should nae be called that."

He didn't sound like a man prepared for violation. Her fear started to make way for anger.

"Did you find something to fight or fuck, or did you just drink it away?"

"Why does it matter? But yeees. I did. I fought something and fucked something and drank something. One or two or all three of'em. Can't be sure. But I'mma have to fight a bear tomorrow so I wanned to smell you."

Kildevi turned around and stared at him.

"Are you completely out of your mind?"

"No. Don't think so. M'wife issa vulva. Need ta fetch a tooth of a bear and the skin of a harekitten because I can't disho-honour m'wife more."

"I have a bear tooth."

"Huh?"

"I also have two cat pelts and the pelt of a hare that I skinned myself."

"But. Why? Why do you have the… that?"

She sighed, speaking to him slowly, as if he was a small child.

"Because your mother gave them to me, and wants me to use them before the wedding."

"I don understand.'' He shook his head. "I don understand any of this wimmin stuff."

The fear had melted away. Now she was just tired.

"I will explain again tomorrow. It's really not that complicated. "


Turned out that it was, though. Complicated.

"You are telling me that you can leave your body and walk away to talk to spirits?"

"Sort of. No. Not really. It's not that simple. But it's a good enough explanation."

"And how many times have you done this before?"

"Uhm. None. Unless you count dreams, because I dream a lot, and they grow more clear for each week, but the way my grandmother did - no."

"So you have never done it."

"I have seen it done, many times."

"Seeing is not doing."

"No, but you are making me ready."

"Wait, I'm making you ready? How?!"

"Do you remember that time in the loom house, when I was suddenly climbing all over you?"

"Yes. It is a memory I am very fond of and will brag about until the day I die."

"Fire egged me on."

"Fire. Fire egged you… I need something to drink."

"So, it seems that when I'm overwhelmed with lust, that helps."

"I thought it sounded like you snarled when you jumped me, was that the fire?"

"Yes. No, that was just me. Anyway, on the way here I told your father that I dried up a well and suckled a bear as an infant, and he thought that maybe I could undo your curse for you."

"When you what?"

"That's why Anund calls me Sister Bear."

"Anund knows about this?!"

"Yes, please don't be jealous! The point is that the very items your mother mentioned in my bride price are things she already gave me for the ritual, and by her ruling yesterday she gave me two weeks to do something that really can't be paced by human time."

"Sounds like mother."

"Yes, she is very good at making people do things."

"So, what happens now?"

Their eyes met, and she saw that he was overwhelmed, scared and trying hard not to show it.

"What happens now? Tomorrow, you will meet me in the smokehouse. You will then go on to…"

She hesitated.

"To?"

"I am trying, but it's harder to find the right word than it should be."

"Just tell me if you need help."

"You will then go on to… bed me."

"But you know there is no bed in the smokehouse."

"You are enjoying this way too much."

"Not yet, but I will."

Holding back a wish to scream, she glared at him.

"You will come to the smokehouse to finally have me, for as long as you can, as many times you can muster until I am too tired to think or talk clearly and my mind no longer is trapped within the hard shell of my shape. When night starts to fall, you must let me walk out into the forest alone, and you must promise not to follow or go to search for me."

"All the sejð I've seen has been done in the hall."

"My amma wouldn't travel in halls, she only used them for foretelling. I will need to bring my hugr far away from my hamr, so I would rather be where I know how it is done."

She paused, biting her lip.

"Please promise you won't drink before."

He didn't answer, just traced the palm of her hand with a finger.

"I don't want you wandering the forest alone at night."

"I won't be alone in the forest, but I will be alone when I leave it."

Youth can act on some things with a single-mindedness that would lead to injury in older folk. What it lacks in forethought it makes up for in enthusiasm, and suffers little for lack of skill, too busy enjoying the practice. Fire whispered, but no words are needed to egg on a beast already snarling.

When finally exhaustion tempered the madness, they rolled up in his cloak, limbs tangled, sweat dripping, skin to skin.

"We will never have this again, you know."

"I know."

"That is a sad thought."

"No. We will have other things."

When she spoke again, her eyes stared unseeing into a point beyond him.

"We will have what we need, when we need it. This was needed now. You can't build a home without a hearth to tame the fire. It will warm us without burns"

"Kildevi. You're drifting. Don't fall asleep on me now!"

"I am not."

"You sound… somewhere else."

"Come. I want you one last time before I leave."


She left him. He returned to the hall to find his mother and six of his brothers waiting for him.

"Where is Anund?"

"He's tending the horses, one of the mares is foaling and Hrafn heard wolves just a few nights ago."

Thorstein rose and offered him a cup of beer.

"All my blessings, brother!"

"Blessings?"

"Blessings on your marriage, Sigulf. Beer for the bear's husband!"

"Hold your horses, Thorstein, we're not married yet!"

"From the look of you, you just had a wild wedding night twelve days early."

Sigulf rubbed his bit and scratched shoulders and barked a laugh.

"You are right about that. Let's drink, for many nights to come!"

"For many nights to come!"

The men drank and cheered. Eskil drank, but said nothing, thoughtfully watching the dark sky through the smoke rifts.


Sigulf drank and talked a lot that night. He was not used to being the one waiting at home.

 

[Alvlin]

In the wee hours of the morning, just as the first promise of sunlight started to paint the horizon, Anund came walking out of the woods, carrying the unconscious form of Kildevi. Questions were thrown at him as he entered the longhouse, but he felt no need to reply or even acknowledge them. Instead he carefully put down his burden on the bench where she usually slept, pulled a blanket up to her waist and proceeded to remove a pair of skins wrapped around her feet. Only then did he seem to notice that the longhouse had woken up and that his path was blocked by the form of his eldest brother. He had said… many things, but Anund hadn't paid him any attention.

"Answer me! Tell me what happened!"

"Don't know. I found her like this, couldn't wake her."

"Just her? Wasn't someone with her?"

"No, she just lay in her shift with the skins on her."

"Where?"

"Fifty paces from the foxhole by the boulder."

"What made those wounds?"

"I don't know, but maybe that thing in her hand?"

Anund rolled away and went to sleep.


The girl looked as if she'd barely survived childbirth. Alfrida didn't know why the thought just imposed on her, echoes of memories perhaps, stirred by the slack body and the bloodless face. She lent closer, picking up a smell of hensbane through the iron stench of sweat and dried blood. Kildevi lay motionless, her hair in tassels, drenched in sweat. But the pallid whiteness of her face wasn't due to blood loss, her wounds were all superficial stings and slashes. Sigulf came up, reaching to shake her, but Alfrida caught his hand.

"Let her sleep. She's exhausted."

"I need to talk to her."

"Even if it harms her?"

"I don't think…"

"No. You don't bring your needs to her sickbed."

Taken aback, he protested.

"Talk, mother. She is my… is going to be my wife. I need to know what happened."

"You want comfort, she needs rest. Find yours elsewhere."

Alfrida turned, looking at the people who had started to gather around them.

"That goes for you too. Make yourselves useful and don't come back before midday. Get out of my house."

Brothers and farmhands and two travelling craftsmen started to drop off, but Sigulf and Eskil both lingered, together with little Asbjorn who never left the scene of anything without protest. Alfrida fixed her eyes on them, pointing at the door.

"Are you slow? Get. Out. Of. My. House."


The longhouse finally emptied of men, except for Anund who slept two arms lengths away, Alfrida and one of her house thralls carefully undressed the unconscious body, washing the wounds clean from dirt and blood, and dressed it in clean linens. They took a damaged flint knife from the right hand and a bloodied binding needle from the left, untied the bear tooth from around the throat and hung it in one of the smoke openings above. Alfrida sent the thrall out to the loom house, and when well out of sight, she gently shook Anund's shoulder.

"Wake up, son. Wake up, then tell me everything."


"She came after nightfall, more languid than I have ever seen her. Then she drew an ointment over her eyes and started singing. I sang too. I kept the tone steady, she the staff. After a long while she fell back with her eyes open. They were not human. I kept singing. I kept the rhythm. Some time after, she started squirming. That was when the wounds started to show. At times, she moved as if she was taking blows, then she was still for a while before it started again. A couple of times she screamed and roared, at other times she spoke gently. It sounded like negotiation, although I didn't understand the words. I kept singing. Some time after midnight my voice no longer held for singing, so from there I hummed. There was no time there. She kept on, now mumbling under her breath, crying. Then, somewhere between midnight and dawn, she sat up, looked at me with human eyes, and passed out. So I stopped humming and brought her here."

"The curse? Did she break it?"

"I have no way to tell. Ask her when she wakes up."

"Don't you feel… anything?"

"I feel different. And tired."


The day passed. At midday the men came home, ate and left. Kildevi slept. Anund woke, ate and wandered back to the glade. He brought the staff back to Sister Bear and put it beside her on the bench, then he returned to the horses. He had a foaling mare to tend.


Another night passed, then another day. Alfreda and Alfjir took turns tending to the shell. Washing it. Brushing the hair. Slowly and carefully feeding it water, relieved for every swallow. When the men returned that day Alfrida sighed, then told Alfjir,

"She is not waking up. Maybe she is just too weak to find her way back."

"Why, Matron, you're not giving up on her, are you?"

"No. But maybe she needs help to pass over."


That evening Sigulf had a conversation with his mother. He had been in a foul mood these past two days, but Alfrida didn't care much about his dark glares or dour comments. When everyone gathered for the evening meal she asked him to follow her outside. He tried to refuse, but she didn't let him.

"I finally have something for you to do. Are you going to sulk, or are you going to be useful?"

So, he followed her outside and away from the house where the rest of the household ate, and Kildevi still slept.

"Tomorrow, she has been out of it for two days and two nights. I don't think she's coming back on her own "

"Exactly what are you saying, mother?"

"I am saying you need to call her back into her body again."

"Oh. No."

"If you can think of anything better to try, I am willing to hear it."

"I don't know anything about sejð, but I can't just… Not when she lies there like a rag without even looking at me."

"So, you have never taken a thrall in anger, or boredom or frustration?"

"That's different. We own them."

"So pretend you own her."

"She's not even in there!"

"If you are not man enough to fuck your own woman, I'll find someone else."


So, here he was. It was morning, and gray sunlight leaked in from the open smoke shutters above. Alfrida had made sure they were alone, and for that he was grateful, but his stomach churned when he looked at the still figure on the bench, skin pallid and limbs heavy. He put his hand behind her neck, half expecting her to lean back and smile up at him, but her head fell back, limp as before. At least she was warm. If he closed his eyes, he might be able to imagine her in there.


He came outside a short while later. Alfrida rose from the bench.

"Is it done?"

"Yes."

"Did she wake up?"

"No."


Another day passed. The men returned, and gathered around the hearth where thick soup simmered in the great pot.


Body raised by a deep breath, Kildevis' eyes fluttered, then opened.


It took a while for her limbs to obey her again. At her age, she had never before woken up with joints stiff and aching, but now every movement felt like a struggle, her throat dry, her lips cracked. It took several moments to remember which roof she looked up on, to recognize the madder-red wool curtain and the painted wolf on the closest side beam. Someone had cleaned and changed her. Then something happened. Voices broke free from the background noise. She knew those voices. They belonged to this house. This world. An old, wrinkled face came into view. The crone who laughed at the world. Where did that thought come from? She was disoriented. Everything moved too fast, faces flickered in front of her. She heard Alfrida's voice, authoritative, demanding. Then Sigulf's voice. They fought. Then she saw his face above her. He won? She was surprised, but not displeased.

"My wolf."

"My bear! You are awake!"

The words came out as a sob as he lent over her. They had named him wrong, she thought. He should be a bear too, not a wolf. But she didn't voice that. Instead she said: "Don't you know that bears sleep deeply?"

The sob turned into a laugh.

"Not in harvest, they don't. You need to wait till slaughter."

"Why should the bear wait for slaughter when we didn't?"


Thorlev silently appeared, putting his arm around Alfrida's shoulders. For a moment, they stood there watching the young couple banter back and forth.

"We should leave them alone," he ventured. "I think we have done what we can here."

"Do you think she did it? Did she lift the curse?"

Thorlev shrugged.

"I don't know. We can ask her, but I guess we will find out in a year or so?"

"In nine days, they will marry. It won't be the grand affair you wanted. No one has ever put together a wedding feast this quickly."

"I left you to handle it. You did."

"Holmgrim won't be happy."

"No. Sigulf will be married to Thorvald's daughter, and there is nothing the bitter old crow can do about it."

Alfrida glanced up at him.

"You know this can well be the beginning of a new feud."

"No. This feud started a long time ago, all I have done is to make one of the sides my own."

Thoughtfully, he looked at the unknowing couple still reuniting on the bench a few paces away.

"Last I heard from Holmgrim, he was looking for her up around Mære, but sooner or later, his wild goose chase will lead him here."

Alfrida's eyes were fixed on her eldest son, forehead furrowed by thought and worry.

"I really thought it would be Eskil."

"So did I, but this will do."

 

[Alvlin]

In the days between rising from her bed and the wedding feast, Kildevi found herself in an emptiness she knew all too well. She had no place, no duties. Noone relied on her and it made no difference to the workings of the house if she rose in the mornings or just spent her days idle. The house got more crowded with each passing day. Guests arrived, tenants and other free men, one or two of the families of the same wealth and stature as Thorlev and his sons. People kept a respectful distance, voices turning to whispers when she came close, but the difference was that she was met with concerned faces and friendly smiles, the whispers curious, not hostile. In spite of this, she longed for the way words flew freely while the hands worked. Everyone was so very busy, but every time she tried to help, she was kindly but firmly turned away.

"What are you doing out of bed?" asked Alfjir when she tried to join the women kneading dough in the bakery. "A mere three days ago you were out of it, and now you'll be a bride in six days time. It won't do to come to a young husband in any other shape but well rested!"

"But I am not tired, I feel fine!" she tried to protest but was firmly ushered away.


Even though he was the last man she wanted to talk to, it almost came as a relief when Eskil caught up with her as she drifted aimlessly around the homestead. He caught her on the path going down to the smithy, where he suddenly appeared behind her, just out of sight from the house and hall.

"Don't worry, I just want to talk," he hastily said when he saw her tense, guarded and wary.

"I don't know what we possibly could have to talk about after your comments about me."

"You accepted reparations."

"Yes. That means I forego retribution. It doesn't mean the words were never spoken."

Eskil sighed.

"I spoke in anger, aiming for his weak spot. The words were never meant for you."

"I know. But just in case, remember how I was prepared for my journey, and ponder what spells a rape would birth."

He grimaced.

"I don't have to ponder that. I never had any intention to try."

"So, what do you want?"

Eyes on the treetops behind her, he scraped his foot, looking a bit embarrassed.

"All this time, I never knew you could do sejðr. I mistook you for a girl to win by flattery before she found her footing and I would have courted you differently, if only I had known better. I just wanted you to know that."

"Had you still tried to court me? If you had known?"

He looked at her, visibly taken aback.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"It's a power you can't touch. Some men don't want that, at least not in a wife."

"It's an impressive skill, much more useful than beauty alone."

"Well, you should know."

"Now you are the one aiming low."

He sighed.

"You owe me nothing. But I must ask why you chose the way you did."

She looked at him. Here, he wasn't the man raging in the yard, he was the man who taught his toddler brother to carve by the hearth.

"My answer is twofold. One is simple. I wanted your brother. I don't know if it was chance or fate, but he made me want him."

"Sigulf can be very charming. Big. Boasting. He can fill up a room."

She rolled her eyes, but continued without comment.

"The second is less… impulsive. You have a destiny, and I don't want that."

"I have a what?"

"You have the weight of a story hanging over you, as clear as if it was carved into your forehead. Your life will be remembered and retold. I want a home where I am always welcome, a husband that will always want me and children not put out to die. If I am lucky, one of them will share my gift, if not… maybe one of them will share Anund's. But I don't want to live a story."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For telling me what I needed to know, not what I wanted to hear."

She looked at him. Her gaze went far beyond the beauty of his hamr and passed into her memory before it returned to her eyes again.

"On my first night here, I was told that you are like the man your father was before he grew wise. You're not."

"Does that mean you have changed your mind?"

"No. But if you make yourself a name in a world where no one knows of curses, or of brotherly quarrels, you will have no trouble finding a woman more beautiful and more noble than I. I hope you do."

"Is that a foretelling?"

She smiled and shook her head.

"That much should be obvious to anyone."


Standing among the chests in the longhouse, Alfrida smacked her lips and frowned.

"At your age you'll look good in anything, but we still need to find a somewhat colourful dress that fits."

Kildevi stood in her best shift while Alfrida dragged out everything from her own chest, humdummed and frowned, some muttering also escaped her.

"No, this won't do. We can't send you to your wedding in a dress that ends at the knee. I knew you were tall, but you don't look this much taller than me!"

"That's because you always forget that you're a shortie, Matron," Alfjir replied helpfully from the side bench. "Maybe if we took your blue one, and then put something else on the bottom?"

"We would have to cover it well indeed to look acceptable."

"Ah, but the smokkr can cover it."

Alfrida frowned.

"Yes, the woad dress could be lengthened in the skirt if we find a wide enough strip of that light blue one from the same bath. If you borrow my longest smokkr, that could work."

Critically, she held up the apron dress to Kildevi to see how much the straps would have to be adjusted.

"The dress isn't that important, it just has to be there and look like it came from well filled coffers."

Taking a much smaller key from her keyring, she pulled a locked case out of the chest and started to rummage around in it.

"You'll have to borrow some of my pearls and I'll gladly gift you my old bronze buckles, but if my son doesn't give you your own as soon as he gets the chance to buy them, I swear that boy will see his meat rations cut."

Kildevi looked down on her matron, almost embarrassed.

"You are spending a lot on me."

"We have silver, what I don't have is grandchildren. This wedding is thrown together way too quickly, so we are in no position to be misers."


Alfrida had asked her if she wanted a few of the guests to help with her bathing since she lacked the mothers, aunts, married sisters and cousins that usually gathered to prepare the bride, but Kildevi said no. The mere idea of a group of unknown women pulling her hair and oiling her skin made her uneasy to the point of panic, and so it was Alfjir and Alfrida who took her from her bed and lead her to the bath to be ritually cleansed and reborn into wifehood.

"At least you know what's happening tonight my girl," Alfjir said with a wink. "So we don't have to tell you how that's done. It's customary of course, but I don't want you to miss the opportunity for more advanced advice."

Alfrida threw Alfjir a tired glance.

"Alfjir, you are the only one here who went to your first husband a maiden."

"I did indeed, but I was much younger than you. I was lucky that so was my first husband. At thirteen and fifteen none of us knew what we were doing, and better off for it. My second… That was another thing entirely, kept me well and happy for a full dozen of years. But I had tired of my third before the feast week was even over."

Alfrida shook her head, then smiled at Kildevi as she pulled the comb through her wet hair.

"I was exactly your age when I married Thorlev, and he was twenty. You should have seen him back then! Beautiful like a hero in a saga."

"I remember", said Alfjir. "You were a pretty pair if ever I saw one. I also remember how cross you were because your clothes no longer fit, we had to squeeeeze you in. Six months later, Sigulf was born, so we knew why you had suddenly filled out."

Alfrida shrugged.

"Well, at least he was Thorlev's. I see no shame in eagerness once a bond has been brokered."

"So, you hear my girl, once I was the innocent one, while our matron has always known exactly what she's doing, about everything."

She winked and Alfrida raised her eyebrows.

"I believe that anything worth doing should be done with confidence. It has served me well. So let that be my first advice, no matter if something is done in the household or in the bed, do it with confidence."

Alfjir raised her hand.

"And my first advice is that you shouldn't care too much about what he thinks of things. Nod and agree and then do what you like. It's not as if they're going to remember what they thought about something a week later."

Alfrida nodded.

"He has no business having opinions about your responsibilities anyway. If I have raised him right, he'll leave that to you. If he puts his nose where it doesn't belong - you come to me. This will be my house for a while yet, and I accept no men in the pantry."

"Second," Alfjir continued, "don't sulk if he brings home a mistress. She might be the best ally you'll ever have if you play your cards right. You outrank her anyway, so she's not a threat unless you make her one."

"I… I don't know if I can do that."

"Ah, but not tomorrow, my girl! Now you want him, but in a few years time when he's annoying your bloody mind out of you, then you won't mind as much! It's sort of a relief when they stumble in half drunk and love-sick to just send him and his bad breath on to another bed so you can go back to sleep."

Kildevi looked at Alfrida who shrugged.

"Don't look at me, I wouldn't know."

Alfjir rolled her eyes.

"Oh, like you've never wished you had somewhere to send him!"

"Not often, but yes. I would lie if I said never."

Alfrida put the last pin in the bride crown and took a step back to take in the result of their efforts.

"I think we're done."

"So, there you go, my girl! Listen to your elders and you will be straight on the path to peace and quiet, which really is the best anyone can hope for in the end."


Her strongest memory from that day was seeing him in the glade. With the guði and everyone gathered, he stood like a safe haven among so many strangers in his dark green tunic and trousers the same hue of blue as the bottom strip of her dress. The men had shaped his beard perfectly even, a hand in length, and the dark curls that were usually untamable were pulled back, oiled down into waves and fastened with a gilded cord at the nape. Reflecting herself in his eyes, she felt beautiful.


That entire day they didn't leave each other's side except for racing from the glade to the hall. The gifts they received were more makeshift than customary, but she didn't mind. With such short notice everyone had gathered whatever they were able to find, and she felt happy for all the trinkets, and especially the finely carved needle case crowned with a bear head that bore no name but Anund's unmistakable mark. When she finally was led to bed she was happy, but exhausted. With the curtains drawn she sat naked with the crown still on her head waiting, until she heard Thorlev's, Thorstein's and Svein's voices, together with three she didn't recognize, all swear they knew Sigulf by face and name. Then they left, and the man she now could call her husband parted the curtain and looked inside, wearing nothing but his undershirt. He smiled and looked down on his half naked self.

"I can keep this on if you want to."

She shook her head.

"Absolutely not."

"Well, if you're sure…

"This is the first night I'll fall asleep on your chest."

"We're not here to sleep."

"No. But every wedding bed should have a first time of something."


The second day of the feast week went into a lull once morning gift and breakfast was over. Sigulf had disappeared into the wood workshop with two of his cousins and Kildevi sat in her own thoughts on the bench outside the loom house when Eskil just seemed to appear in the corner of her eye. When he saw her jump, he took a half-step back.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to say a few words when your husband isn't here to stop me."

Shadowing her eyes against the late summer sun she smiled up at him.

"You didn't scare me, my mind was just somewhere else."

She moved to the side, making space for him to join her on the bench.

"I didn't see you yesterday."

"I was there, but I kept in the background. Standing too up and close would have felt like showing my throat to the shaggy wolf."

"I noticed you were the only grown brother not among the witnesses."

Eskil snorted.

"He would rather burn down the house than let me get that close to your bed with you in it. Which I guess is some kind of misguided compliment."

Kildevi frowned.

"I'm not that sure about misguided. Everyone has been so insultingly surprised that I could fall in love with him when I probably could have had you. If that is how your lives have been, I understand why he's constantly trying to take his dignity back at your expense."

"Well, and also because he's a mean spirited bully."

Kildevi gave him a tired smile but didn't reply. Instead she said:

"You seem quite relaxed about everything, all things considered. Two weeks ago you called me a whore and were screaming for his blood."

Eskil shrugged.

"I've had some time to think with my head instead of my sword arm. You see, I've always liked you, but I have a feeling my loud oaf of a brother thinks you are the only woman in the world, and that's another thing entirely."

He sighed.

"I've also decided to go east as soon as the feast week is over, and I'm taking Thorstein with me. I need a break, I need an adventure, and I need to discover what kind of man I am when I'm not constantly in his shadow. The plan is to go down through Rus, maybe stay a while in Konugard and then on to Miklagard."

Squinting from the sharp sunlight he looked at her and smiled.

"Everything feels better with a plan. My claims to you ended with the curse, anyway. I just wanted a wife at some point, he wanted you, so I guess this was fair, after all."

He grimaced.

"Bleh. Saying it gives me a foul taste in my mouth. I should go and wash it out with the beer in the keg I see Alfjir is about to open."

Sigulf suddenly came out from behind the outhouses, and when he saw Eskil, he briskly walked towards them looking none too happy.

"And that was my cue. Let's hope he has calmed down if I return in a few years time." And with that Eskil sauntered away towards Alfjir and her beer keg.

"What did he want?"

Kildevi shrugged and smiled up at him.

"Just wishing us well, and telling me that he and Thorstein are leaving eastwards as soon as the feast week is over."

"He is now, is he? Well, with some luck he'll stay there."


And like that, the late summer turned towards early winter. Two brothers left and crossed the sea just in time to go south before the rivers froze, but the rest of them stayed, and as the half-idle honeymoon ended, so did the summer season with its last harvests and late repairs. Slaughter, and life, waited for them all around the corner.