Free Alvar the Kingmaker by Annie Whitehead

sighed. Perhaps Helmstan had had the right idea, going home to his wife as soon as the meeting had ended. So Alvar trotted off down the corridor, his nostrils twitching for the smell of Eva’s scent and a clue as to where she might be.
     
    Chapter Three AD958
     
    Helmstan’s house, near Chester
    Káta pulled down a green-shoot branch and held it while she stepped out of the woods and onto the path. She let it swish back into place and stood with her face turned skyward, eyes closed against the sun. Switching her weight from one foot to the other she listened for the squelch as each shoe sucked away from its mould in the mud. A mistle-thrush sang its agreement that spring had arrived and she opened her eyes to look up into the trees. Unable to spot the bird, she turned and waved as Hild of Oakhurst sauntered up the path, leaning, as always, on her stout blackthorn walking stick. Some said that an Irish monk gave it to her, some that she kept it to beat her numerous children. Some even suggested that she used it to fend off her husband, but Káta was sure that they were teasing.
    “My lady,” Hild said, pointing her stick skyward, “I see that you, too, are thankful for the sunshine.”
    “I am as glad as that throstle,” Káta said. “With this sunshine, the roads will dry out and firm up, and my husband will soon come home.”
    Hild tapped the ground with the blackthorn. “Aye, God willing. Lord Helmstan has been away more days than not in these last twelve months.” She took a step forward and laid her free hand on Káta’s arm. “Not so lonely that you yearn for your old hall and a warmer hearth?”
    Káta shook her head. “No. I’m glad this is my home now. And there is so much to be done when Lord Helmstan is away, I have no time to think of my old life.”
    Hild smiled. “Not as busy as we could be, eh?” She winked.
    Káta knew what she meant and would accept no more gratitude. There had been three bad harvests in a row, and the first thing she had done as Helmstan’s lady was lift the obligation for feasts to be cooked on saints’ days.
    “My little ones are running round with fat on their bones now, thanks to you.”
    Káta waved her hand. “You owe me no thanks for that. We were blessed that there was no fever. Oats and barley might not have grown well, but there is always fish to be had from the Dee and I would have been a dull-wit if I had not learned swiftly to send to Chester for our needs.” She leaned forward and touched Hild’s arm. “You know, it was no great hardship to leave Northampton. If you had met my mother…” She pulled her veil lower on her forehead and squinted until her cheeks lifted. She hunched over and wagged a finger, imitating her mother’s harsh tones. “ I had to cross the sea from Denmark when I was wed but you, daughter, have only to take the road west .”
    Hild laughed at the impersonation. “Your mother must be a fire-breather indeed, my lady.”
    “Oh, you ask Gytha about my mother; she would brook no thought of being left with her, and came here to live with me. Before we left, Gytha told her that the dragon heads on the Viking long ships were carved in her likeness.”
    Káta bent over again and teased Hild with the wagging finger. “My mother said, ‘ Take the idle bag of bones, then, for she is too slack for my house .’”
    Hild held up her stick as if to ward off evil spirits and set off backwards down the path. “Not to be rude, but I would hate to meet the woman who frightens even your Gytha.” Laughing, she turned and ran a few steps, slowed to a walk, and waved without looking back.
    Káta chuckled. Turning her back on the line of trees which marked the edge of the forest, she climbed the fence where the path crossed the mill-track. Burgred the herdsman had been milking when she passed him earlier, but now he was holding a lamb, one of the first of the new stock, grown fat and almost as big as the adult ewes. He waved a temporarily free arm