*
When they had their first baby together, she wept, and named him Harald. She brushed his perfect skin with her fingers, holding his warmth to her breasts, and marveled at his beauty while hot tears rolled down her cheeks. The baby’s life was a miracle, she realized; a miracle she had denied herself, as well as Thorkell. Here was a human being not yet tarnished by the world, unmarked by the evils of other people, unscathed, even, by the evil she knew to be within herself.
She spent long days and nights holding him, rocking him, singing to him. One night Thorkell found her thus and walked up behind her, wrapping them both in his arms.
“I’m sorry, Thorkell,” she whispered. “I didn’t think it would be like this. I never thought I would create something so … so ...” She could not find a word for it, so she didn’t try. Thorkell nuzzled his beard against her shoulder and kissed her neck.
At first she enjoyed staying with little Harald always. She even tolerated his crying throughout the night, and his constant thirst throughout the day.
But one day she longed for the woods again. And then she realized she was trapped.
She paced round and round the lodge, listening to Harald scream, wondering what to do. She couldn’t just leave him. But now that she wanted to for the first time, her inability to do so filled her with rage. What other options did she have?
She stayed with the baby, but by the time Thorkell came home, she was seething. In the past, she had never told Thorkell before she left him for days on end. She never had to deal with him asking her not to leave, for she never bothered seeking his permission or approval. All she had to do was leave, and then when she returned, he would be so happy to see her that all would be well. This time, she had to state the truth.
“We need to find someone to look after Harald whenever I’m … gone.”
The baby seemed to sense the distress in the room. He wailed, only quieting when Thorkell picked him up and rocked him. The father glared at her over the writhing form. “But you’re his mother.”
“Would you rather I leave him alone?”
Thorkell got the baby to quiet again, and gently returned him to his bed. He spoke softly, though it was a strain to do so. “He needs you to feed him.”
“Another woman could do that, as well.”
A terrible silence followed her words. His response struck her like a splash of cold water in her face. “Then perhaps I’ll marry another woman.”
She struggled to breathe. This was the first time he had ever threatened her with such a thing. She never had to say how strongly the idea revolted her, for he had already guessed.
“There’s an offer,” he went on relentlessly. “From Chief Asgaut of Denmark. For his eldest daughter.”
She bit back her words of argument. She could not forbid him to do it. She had already shared herself with another man, so she had no right. And in truth, she wanted him to be as free to pursue his desires as he allowed her to be. She simply did not think she could endure it.
She turned to leave.
“Runa.”
Something in his voice stopped her.
“What do you want?”
The question surprised her. What did she want? She thought the answer would be simple. Freedom. But that wasn’t all she wanted. Freedom alone did not make her happy. There was more she wanted to do with her life, more that she wanted to see and accomplish, which she simply had no opportunity to achieve on her own, no matter how much time she could spend as she pleased. The answer arose from deep within her, where it had already been for a long time. “I want to cross the seas. I want to see Engla-lond. I want to plunder and rape.” She laughed at the silliness of it all. But her eyes sparkled with joy as she turned them back to Thorkell. “I want to be a Viking.”
He blinked with surprise. As well as he knew and understood her, this came as a shock to him.
She walked over to him, gripping his arm in her excitement. “Think of it, Thorkell. I am already a master of the bow. You have also trained me with a blade. We could have so much fun together.”
He looked away, his jaws grinding. She knew that “fun” had been the wrong word to use. Thorkell did not find any of the pillaging and killing “fun.” It was his job, his duty, and so he did it. She was not even sure she would find it fun, herself. But she had to try it at least once. It was her ultimate act of defiance against society, against her father … against everyone.
She stroked his neck lovingly, twirling his hair in her fingers. “I’ll stay with the baby until your next voyage to Engla-lond, if you would let me go with you.”
He took a deep, heaving breath. “Very well,” he said at last. “If it means that much to you.”
She let out a helpless cry of delight. She pushed him back into a chair and straddled his lap, the poor wood creaking under their weight. “It does,” she said.
To her surprise, a smile tugged at his mouth. “You understand that if you’re in my army, you’re mine to command.”
“Am I? I suppose that’s true.” She leaned against him and nibbled at his ear. “Then I am yours.”
His hands slid up her waist, but when another thought struck her, she pulled back again, tensing. “You must do what you must,” she said, her heart racing nervously in her chest. “But I have to know. Would you really marry another woman?”
He chuckled. “By the mercy of Thor,” he said, “not if I could help it. You’re all the wife I can handle.”
She fell back against him, losing herself to the pleasure of his embrace. When next she slept, she dreamt of the shores of Engla-lond, and awoke knowing that she would live to see them.
**
10
The Tenth Lost Tale of Mercia:
EDMUND THE AETHELING
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*
“... it was told the king, that [the Danes] would beshrew him of his life, and afterwards all his council, and then have his kingdom without any resistance.”
—The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles, Entry for Year 1002