Free Hidden by Donna Jo Napoli

daughters’ names started with the same sound as their mother’s name. But, she added, you could always name a child after Thor,as the father of Thora and Thorkild and Thorsten did.
    So those names sound like a family, at least to some ears: Ástríd, Beorn, Búri.
    Then there’s me, on the outside.
    But, oh, Ástríd chose her own name—she said it went with me, with Alfhild. Oh! She meant that she and I should have names that start with the same sound. No one would take her for my mother, she’s far too young. But we could be sisters. Just like Thorsten came to live with his big brother Thorkild and his big sister Thora, when their parents died. Just like Åse said I had become her sister—our names made us sound like sisters.
    Ãstríd’s making me part of her new family. She’s going to pretend I’m her sister.
    But I’m Mel’s sister. Now and forever. Mel. Mel. My eyes burn with longing.
    Still, I can pretend to be Ástríd’s sister. I can do what I have to. And it’s only till I’m big.
    I stare up at the stars. It is beautiful to see the stars again. It feels like a miracle. And it strengthens my new resolve—the decision I made today as we were walking.
    Ãstríd was stolen by a slave ship. That’s what happened to Mel and me, as sure as there are stars above. I know that now.
    Ãstríd was sold to a family.
    I run my fingers around the edge of Búri’s ear. Mel has undoubtedly been sold by now. Who was she sold to? How is she treated?
    Mel is fifteen and a half. Fully grown. Beautiful.
    I could drown in tears. But I won’t. I won’t cry. When Mother and Father and Nuada find me, we’ll come find you, too, Mel . I swallow. And if they never come, it doesn’t matter, because I’ll grow big and I won’t need anyone. Wait for me, Mel, I pray. I’ve changed my plans, dear sister, true sister. As soon as I’m big, I’ll come find you. We’ll go home to Eire together. Stay strong. Wait. I’ll come.

C HAPTER E IGHT
    We arrived at Viborg in the sun to a proper skald ’s welcome. I don’t know how many houses were there—but certainly forty or fifty, arranged in groups rather than scattered over the land. They have a huge hall for everyone to gather in, and it’s fully above ground. When people learned that Ástríd and Beorn had been married only two days before, the feast turned into a true celebration, and we left enriched by two goats, a pig, and a cow with various sacks of woolens, tools, pots, and bowls hanging across her back. All because Beorn said he was ready to settle down here in Jutland.
    Gifts are wonderful. And animals are the best kind of gifts. But that cow certainly slowed us down. It took six days to travel from Viborg to Jelling, despite the fact that there was a dirt road the whole way, so we didn’t have to skirt around bushes and rocks, like we did getting to Viborg. Then, to make things worse, rain came steadily the last two of those days. Baby Búri caught a cold, and since he slept on me, I woke in the morn with his drippings across my neck, like slug paths.
    So I was delighted when we arrived in Jelling and slept in a real home again, with blankets and hearty meals, knowing it was raining outside but unable to hear it for all the noise inside. Beorn did his skald routine, which by this time I was disappointed in. Irish storytellers embellish their stories with each telling, but Beorn repeated his word for word.
    Not to be outdone by the people of Viborg, the folks of Jelling loaded us up even more. We now have a horse with a saddle and straps that hang off it and end in iron bars called stirrups to rest your feet on. No one’s riding the horse, though, because her back is packed with other things: a plow and a shovel and a second ax—Beorn had an ax already; no Norse man goes without one—and a slew of other things people