Free Loki's Daughters by Delle Jacobs Page B

quietly up the slope, following the tiny stream that flowed between two hills. Arienh reached out in silence for the bucket Mildread handed her, exchanging it for an empty one, then turned and climbed toward the ridge, and handed the bucket to Selma. The bucket passed over the crest, down the far slope. Another joined it, and another, until several full buckets rested in the shadows at the foot of the hill, within the valley. Silent women collected around them.
    Pairs of vigilant eyes watched. At the edge of the forest, Arienh waved a hand. A shadowy chain of women emerged and followed, creeping upon the provisions stacked beside Weylin's cottage.
    Small kegs came off the stack. Lids pried open. Half of their contents poured into empty buckets, full buckets poured into half-empty kegs, lids replaced. Shadowy women crept into the silent forest, their footsteps muffled by the soggy earth.
     
    ***
     
    Inside the cottage, Ronan reclined against a stack of woolen blankets, furs and pillows, watching his companions at the tables and benches and letting the sweet warmth of the mead curl downward all the way to his toes. The fever was gone, and his strength was returning rapidly. It was good to be back with his family and friends, good to see his mother relaxed into Gunnar's arms, good to see Gunnar active after his last bout of illness.
    "I know which one I want!" Tanni shouted, too loudly, and tossed back his head to drain the last drop of mead from his horn. "That little one with the golden curls."
    "I care not, so long as you stay away from the redhead," Egil retorted, chuckling.
    "Well, you can have her. Strangest eyes I've ever seen."
    "But big enough to be a woman, at least."
    "You'll both be lucky if they even look at you," said Olav solemnly. "The problem here is they're all Christians."
    "So?"
    "So Christians can't stand it until you become one of them. You know how it is when you try to trade with them. They've got to say their words over you first."
    "So let them say their words," Tanni answered with a shrug and laugh. "They say it really doesn't make a difference as long as they don't sprinkle their water on you. But if they sprinkle on you, you're doomed. You’ll never see Valhalla."
    Ronan's mother sat up to interrupt, but Gunnar eased her gently back to his side. She'd explained things often enough.
    Ronan had heard stories of the Christian faith all his life, and had considered it, so at least he understood it. But the new religion of the Christians made little sense to most Northmen, so they interpreted it the way that pleased them most.
      "Aye," said Ronan, and he stopped to gulp the remainder of his mead. "But that's just for trading. We're talking about taking wives. A few words won't appease them."
    Bjorn snorted. "Why bother to appease them? They’re just women."
    "In Frisia," said Olav, "my uncle must have converted six or seven times so he could trade. Got white robes each time. He swore it was the way to do it. Always got the best deals that way. But he died fighting the Danes, and found his way to Valhalla anyway, I'd swear by Thor's hammer."
    Ronan smiled and watched silently. Wynne just shook her head at the hopelessness of it all.
    Olav took another gulp of mead, draining his horn. "That's what we've got to do, take their white robes and everything. Then once we've got them, we can do whatever we want."
    Ronan suspected that was a little too simple. "Some of them might not fall for that."
    "Then pick another," said Bjorn. "There's plenty of them. One woman's pretty much like another."
    "You're forgetting, the women have something to say about it, too," Ronan objected.
    "Don't see why," Bjorn replied, lifting his horn to his lips. The pale scar that slashed into his reddish beard flexed with the movement. "Pick the one you want and take her, I say. It's all the same to me. I'll let you have them all."
    "Nay, there will be no taking of unwilling women here. We'll court them properly."
    "Let me speak,