Free Shieldmaiden by Marianne Whiting

floated on a cloud with my head in my mother’s lap.
    I woke with a headache like thunder and a vile taste in my mouth. I was alone. The fire in the sauna had died out. I was covered by a linen sheet and a soft cured skin. The bench underneath me felt wet and cold. I lay on my side and there was sick on the floor. The smell made me heave and retch but I was empty. I closed my eyes. I had no memory.
    Outside there was a great noise. People cheered and clapped their hands. The door to the sauna opened. I gulped the fresh air. Ingefried came to my side. She handed me a swaddled bundle.
    â€˜Your son,’ she said. ‘Hauk has sprinkled him with water and named him Kveldulf.’
    So, despite his doubts, Hauk accepted my son. He didn’t have to do that. He could have turned me out for the mere suspicion of bearing another man’s child. But then he would have lost the rights to the land at Becklund. Nor did he reject the child as a result of rape. A legitimate son and heir was what he wanted, so that’s what he claimed. He honoured me with a gift of a pleated gold finger-ring and let every household in the area know he had a son.
    It did him no good. As soon as I looked into the eyes of my newborn son, I knew he was Ragnar’s and I knew I had to find my love and bring his son to him.
    Four new moons after Kveldulf ’s birth Hauk left with some of his men to go trading. He’d been gone two days when I handed Thorgunn the keys and told her I intended to take my son to Becklund. I saddled the grey mare Moonbeam and, ignoring Thorgunn’s protests, set off alone with my baby strapped to my back. I was not headed for Becklund. I would go to Ragnar’s family at Buttermere to find out what had befallen him.
    I took the route I had walked when I ran from Swanhill and my quarrel with Hauk over Lydia. I was able to ride the first part of the journey. The gentle rolling gait of the horse rocked Kveldulf to sleep. When the path became too steep, I had to dismount and lead the mare. This woke him and he cried. I was already tired and glad of a rest so I put a halter on the horse and sat down. I parted my pinafore and put the baby to my breast. He was a big feeder and I was filled with pride and love. In the silence I became aware of voices and the sound of a horse’s hooves. Carefully so as not to cause my baby distress, I stood up and looked round me. The sound seemed to come from the way I had just travelled. Looking down the path I saw a large grey horse with two people on it, a woman and a child. With a sigh I sat down to await the arrival of Ingefried and Olvir.
    â€˜Sigrid, this is too much! I’m too old for this!’ Ingefried clung to the horse I had taken from Thorfinn. Olvir was panting hard from the effort of leading the horse over the steep ground.
    â€˜Who asked you to come? I didn’t intend to be away for long. There’s no need.’ I held the bridle while Olvir helped Ingefried off the horse.
    â€˜When you go off without talking to anyone, I know you’re up to no good.’
    â€˜I told Thorgunn.’ Ingefried’s snort brought Olvir out in a giggle. I slapped him for his insolence but half-heartedly since I was fond of the boy.
    â€˜Where are you going really, Sigrid?’ I knew she had guessed so I told her:
    â€˜To Buttermere. I need to find out where Ragnar is.’ Her eyes shot fire-brands at me. She ordered Olvir to take our horses to water and when his back was turned she hissed:
    â€˜Yes, I thought as much! Ragnar Sweinson, the outlawed son of a traitor.’ She slapped me across the face. ‘When will you grow up? You’re a wife and mother! You behave like a woman without shame, a disgrace to your family. What would your mother say? How would your father feel?’ By now you’d need to be a furlong away not to hear. Kveldulf stopped feeding and began to cry. I saw Olvir’s shoulders stiffen as he dragged the