Free Shieldmaiden by Marianne Whiting Page A

animals with him along the beck. I rubbed my stinging cheek.
    â€˜You can’t do that! I’m your mistress.’
    â€˜You are a child I brought into this world. I nursed both you and your mother and that gives me the right. When you conduct yourself like a mistress you’ll find the respect you think yourself entitled to, will be given without grudge.’ She took Kveldulf from me and shushed and rocked him until he stopped crying. We stood silently glaring at each other. After a while Ingefried said:
    â€˜In one thing you are right. Kveldulf should breathe the air at Becklund and there’s no harm in him touching his grandfather’s stone even if it isn’t finished. But there will be no other visits for you, my girl.’
    So the four of us set off for Becklund. On the steeper parts of Mosedale we had to lead the horses but we still made good time and arrived shortly after midday. The farm was much changed since my last visit. Bard, the freeman Hauk had put in charge of the work, received us with ale and bread.
    â€˜Welcome Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter. You arrive alone, without your husband?’ He gazed at me from under his bushy, grey eyebrows.
    â€˜Thank you. Yes Bard, my husband is away trading and I felt a great longing to visit my old home and bring my son here.’
    â€˜It will be some time before Becklund resembles the home you knew.’ He pointed towards the farmstead where work had started on the main buildings. The cook house was re-roofed and in use. I looked at the remains of my father’s hall. The stone walls had been repaired and earth banked up on the outside. Large roof-timbers were stacked up to dry. When ready they would be put up in the shape of an upturned boat and covered with turf. Inside it would again be warm and smoky with the smells of cooking and… I began trembling and had to turn away.
    Bard’s rumbling voice was soft as he touched my elbow and turned me towards the lake.
    â€˜The rune-writer is at his task. It will be a fine stone as befits your father’s memory. Would you like to see it?’ He must have seen I was too overcome with my memories to answer for he continued: ’I see your son is hearty and hale. May I call your people to meet him?’ He sent for all the thralls and free men and women to come and pay their respect to Kveldulf. The men approved his sturdy little limbs and the women fussed over his round cheeks. And my baby waved and smiled and made happy, gurgling noises.
    Bard led us round the farm. We saw the fields put to the plough and the young animals growing fat on the rich pasture. I carried my son through the meadow and the trees towards the lakeshore. There was the stone, a large slab of grey it would stand taller than a man. A rune-writer was chipping out an image of Odin on his eight-legged horse Sleipner and with his two black ravens, Hugin and Munin by his shoulder. It was far from ready but it would look imposing. Set on higher ground, it would be visible from the water. I put Kveldulf ’s little hand against the stone and he clenched his fingers as if he were trying to grasp it.
    â€˜It is good of your husband to so honour your father and look after his people.’ Ingefried’s voice was insistent and in front of everyone I had to smile and nod agreement. Too soon we had to leave. With my whole being I wanted to stay there and help turn the farmstead back to what it was. I whispered to Kveldulf:
    â€˜This is yours, all yours. One day we will come back here and be happy. You, me and your father.’
    When I told my infant son stories of his grandfather’s exploits as a warrior, stories I had to make up since my father never spoke of them himself, Hauk would sit quietly, regarding me out of the corner of his one eye. Thorgunn tried to speak to me about him again:
    â€˜He’s as strong and courageous as any man but his eye makes it hard for him in a fight because he can’t see