Kin (Helga Finnsdottir) Read online

  ‘Helga!’ Einar called, breaking the spell, ‘help Runa into the house – we need to clean her wounds and stop the bleeding.’

  To her surprise Sigmar bent down to help support Runa towards the longhouse. When he saw her staring, he snapped, ‘I can’t look at her just now. She’s safe with Bjorn—’

  A piercing yell cut off the end of his sentence, then it abruptly disappeared. Moments later Jorunn’s voice came to them from the riverbank, screeching, ‘I’ll fucking kill you! You bastard! I’ll—’ The voice disappeared again.

  ‘At least Jorunn will be clean,’ Einar remarked as they led Runa to the longhouse, not quite managing to keep the smirk off his face. ‘Why the slop-water?’

  ‘I just grabbed the first thing,’ Helga admitted.

  ‘Served her right,’ Sigmar muttered. Beside him, Runa was sniffling.

  As they rounded the corner into the yard, Agla and Gytha came rushing towards them. ‘What happened?’ Gytha asked, her eyes wide.

  ‘It’s pretty obvious,’ Agla snapped. ‘Get her inside, you idiots.’ Sigmar and Einar snapped to and, led by Gytha, half-carried Runa inside. Like dogs at heel. So that’s what he saw in her, Helga thought, interrupted by Agla’s gaze. ‘You – get water.’

  She turned around and started searching for the bucket of rainwater she now knew to be around the corner. Without shrieking women on the ground pummelling the life out of each other, the bucket was painfully obvious. From down by the river she could hear snatches of conversation: Jorunn’s clipped voice and Bjorn’s rumbling tones.

  ‘—but she thinks he did it, Bjorn. Her own husband!’

  ‘Everyone’s on edge, and you more than most.’

  ‘Well it’s not my bloody fault, is it? We’re sleeping in the same house as a murderer.’

  ‘If you believe that, then maybe don’t punch the murderer’s wife in the face.’

  Suddenly ashamed of her eavesdropping, Helga grabbed the bucket and hurried towards the doors of the longhouse.

  When she got in, blinking to get used to the half-light, she heard voices: three – no, four – people all talking at once over Runa’s whimpering.

  ‘—she can’t just—’

  ‘But what happened?’

  ‘—there’s probably a good reason—’

  Aslak and Thyri had arrived, and Agla and Gytha were busy carefully removing Runa’s clothes and rooting around for something clean for her to wear. Helga gazed at Runa over the shoulder of her awkwardly hovering husband. She looks so young, she thought. So small and . . . vulnerable. The thought stuck sideways in her head. Helga could deal with a lot of things, but thinking of Runa as ‘vulnerable’ was not one of them. Wait – was that the tiniest hint of a smirk on her face? Helga blinked and it was gone and Runa was just an upset woman on the edge of her bed, being tended to by her friends. As far away from being seen as a murderer as anyone could be, Helga thought, and cleared a small space on the shelf in her stockroom for Runa.

  ‘Something has to be done about her,’ Agla said.

  ‘You’re patching her up, aren’t you?’ Sigmar said.

  ‘Not her. Your wife,’ Agla snapped back.

  Sigmar hunched over, looking absolutely miserable. ‘And why is that my job? This place is crawling with her family.’

  Agla frowned. ‘But . . . you’re her husband.’

  Sigmar just snorted in disdain. ‘I’m more like—’

  The door creaked, and conversation stopped. Everyone turned to look as the hulking frame of Bjorn entered, followed by his lithe sister. Drowned rat, more like, Helga thought to herself. Jorunn’s clothes clung where they didn’t droop, and the slosh of her shoes was audible all across the room until her steps came to a halt.

  Helga became very aware of her heartbeats. One-two . . . one-two . . .

  ‘There is no honour in you. Not a shred.’ Aslak’s voice was taut, level like a bowstring. ‘You could have killed her.’

  ‘You pick a strange time to stand up for that woman,’ Jorunn replied.

  ‘DON’T YOU DARE SPEAK!’ Aslak screamed, suddenly furious. ‘DON’T YOU DARE MOVE YOUR MOUTH OR I WILL BREAK ALL YOUR TEETH, YOU SLIMY LITTLE BITCH!’

  ‘Aslak!’ Agla exclaimed.

  ‘Shut up,’ Aslak snarled as he focused his stare on Jorunn. ‘You knew that I’d finally fixed it, didn’t you. You knew that I had provided for my family. You knew that we were going to be happy. And you had to go and ruin it. I’m going—’

  It wasn’t a big movement; it was more of a shift, but suddenly Einar was standing between Aslak and his target. ‘That’s enough,’ he said, and Helga felt a cold chill. His voice had changed, and so had the set of his shoulders. It was less of an invite to stop and more of a promise of what would happen if Aslak didn’t.

  Out of the corner of her eye Helga caught a quick, exchanged glance between Agla and Thyri, and moments later Bjorn’s wife was by Aslak, up close, a gentle but firm hand on his arm. She whispered to him, murmured soothing sounds. It was hard to tell the words apart, but the sense of it was clear: Calm down. Calm . . . down. It was working, too – under the combination of Einar’s suddenly imposing presence and Thyri’s whispers, Aslak backed down.

  He’s lost, Helga thought, suddenly. Lost and confused.

  At the other end of the hall, Jorunn sneered, ‘I’d have you in a second, you little shit. But at least you’re a man, unlike my so-called husband.’

  In the corner, Sigmar tensed up. ‘Be careful, Wife,’ he growled.

  ‘Or what? You’ll beat me when we’re gone?’ Jorunn snapped. ‘You wouldn’t dare. At least not while I could look you in the eye. You’re limp.’

  Behind her, Helga could hear Agla draw a quick breath.

  ‘And you are a horror! Every day, snapping at my heels – nothing I ever do is good enough, no amount of money will make you satisfied and you are never, ever happy!’

  ‘Oh – happy like you were at coming here and meeting my family?’ Jorunn was almost screaming. ‘You never wanted this! You never wanted me! You married for convenience – or maybe to hide something else – and now you’re stuck with me. And I know you hate it.’

  ‘I will not be stuck with you,’ Sigmar said, and he shouldered past Helga to the side door. A swift kick, the door flew open and he was gone.

  Behind Jorunn, the main door opened and Hildigunnur came in, followed by Unnthor.

  ‘What in Hel’s frozen armpit is going on here?’ the old chieftain barked.

  Jorunn’s wail of distress was only half-human. She seemed to go soft at the knees first, then slowly leaked down onto the floor, sobbing.

  ‘Jorunn!’ There was a note of panic in Hildigunnur’s voice that Helga hadn’t heard before. Within moments her mother was at her side, with Agla hurrying to join in.

  ‘He – uh – I can’t—’ The rest of Jorunn’s words dissolved into tears and loud sobs.

  Hildigunnur knelt beside her and stroked her hair. ‘Ssh,’ she whispered. ‘Breathe first, talk later.’ As Jorunn shook silently in her arms, the old woman’s head whipped round and caught Agla’s eye. ‘She’s bruised. What happened?’

  ‘Um . . . we caught them fighting. Her and Runa,’ Agla stuttered.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘We don’t know,’ Agla said.

  Runa rose from her bunk and started walking over towards them, moving gingerly. ‘It was my fault.’

  ‘Oh?’ Hildigunnur’s voice could have sliced through stone.

  ‘Yes – she asked me a question and I said some things I shouldn’t have.’

  The old woman eyed up Aslak’s wife. ‘It can’t have been too bad,’ she said.

  ‘How do you know?’ Agla said.

  ‘Well,’ Hildigunnur said, ‘she’s still alive, isn’t she?’ With that she turned her attention back to Jorunn, stroking her hair and whisperin
g gently. Helga watched from a distance. She would have gone to help but it felt wrong, somehow. They’re the same, she thought. They are all the same, and I am not.

  *

  After a little while, Hildigunnur led Jorunn to a seat and gathered the family around her. Runa’s face had started to colour, but she was surrounded by Aslak and her children. To Helga they looked closer than they’d been before, which stung a little, but in another way she was relieved. After his outburst Aslak had lost some of the edge she’d seen in him, some of the danger she’d sensed – a good thing, because judging by her father’s face, Riverside had all the danger it needed.

  ‘It was him all along. I’ll find him and wring his neck,’ Unnthor said. ‘Like a chicken.’ There was a calm to his voice that was utterly terrifying.

  ‘You’ll do no such thing,’ Bjorn said. ‘We will go after him and we will catch him and tie him up, and then we will convene a council and talk this over.’ He paused. ‘And then you may do whatever you wish to his neck.’

  ‘Why the wait?’ Unnthor said.

  ‘Shut up and listen to your son, you big ox,’ Hildigunnur said. ‘He’s being smart, for once. Jorunn, talk to us. Tell us about him.’

  ‘He was . . . good to me, at first,’ Jorunn began. ‘After . . . you know . . .’

  Nods around the table.

  What? What does everyone know?

  ‘Karl said he’d sailed with him once, long ago. I won’t say that he brought him to me all trussed up, but—’ She smiled at the recollection. ‘That was a fateful trip to the fair that day.’ Helga only just noticed as Einar slunk away into the shadows and towards the back door. Whatever they’re remembering, he doesn´t want to hear it. Her heart ached for the young man she thought of as her brother. Much more than this lot, anyway. ‘He was just . . . different from the farm boys,’ Jorunn continued. ‘Quick on his feet. Quick with his tongue.’

  ‘I bet,’ Hildigunnur murmured, to a swallowed scoff of outrage from Gytha.

  Jorunn ignored it. ‘But he had to go east immediately – so I went with him.’

  ‘And broke your mother’s heart,’ Unnthor said.

  ‘She did no such thing,’ Hildigunnur said. ‘Just because she wasn’t wooed in the traditional way—’

  ‘—with a thighbone—’ Aslak added, and despite his fury, Unnthor smirked.

  ‘—doesn’t mean she wasn’t supposed to do what needed to be done,’ Hildigunnur added. ‘Wouldn’t be my daughter if she didn’t.’ She reached down and squeezed Jorunn’s shoulder affectionately, and for a moment they were both fifteen years younger.

  Helga felt another pang in her chest.

  ‘We went back. His father was ill – he died soon after we arrived. He left Sigmar a broken house and a barren farm, but there was a cart and two old horses, and a load of furs. We reckoned there was only one thing to do, so we travelled and we traded. And we were happy,’ Jorunn continued. ‘Turns out I have a knack for negotiating – apparently, I make grown men quake – no idea where that comes from!’ She glanced at her mother, who feigned innocence. ‘We went all over, down to the Danes, across to Rus, where we bought a boat. Then we sold the boat – we just kept moving. Somewhere along the way we found some pretty trinkets and gave them to Eirik, who liked the look of Sigmar and gave him some stuff to sell.’ At her mother’s quizzical look she clarified, ‘Amber, grain, timber.’ She paused. ‘And weapons. And we took them away and brought back a profit, and for a while, everything was working very well indeed. But then—’

  Jorunn looked down and took a deep breath. The silence in the longhouse was thick. She said quietly, ‘He changed.’

  ‘How?’ Gytha asked breathlessly.

  ‘He started going away on his own,’ she said, ‘just a day, two days, at first, and then he was inventing reasons for me to stay in Uppsala while he went away to sail. I found out that some of our so-called friends in Svealand didn’t much care for us . . . I felt really . . . alone.’

  Helga felt strange, hearing this. She felt . . . sorry for Jorunn. She must have been so lonely – just like she felt alone now, excluded from the inner circle of the Riverside family. That had to be why she felt a strange tingling in her throat, why her eyebrows seemed to want to tie themselves up in a knot. Very discreetly she inched back until she could feel cooling shadow on her face.

  ‘You don’t need to tell me,’ Bjorn rumbled. ‘Bastards, the lot of ’em.’

  ‘And some of the men . . .’ She swallowed. ‘Well, they were all too happy to approach me when Sigmar was away. I was glad of the things you taught me, Mother – although turns out wives don’t take kindly to their men limping back home with their knees closed, vaguely suggesting they may have tripped over a root. It quickly becomes—’

  ‘—your fault,’ Hildigunnur finished quietly. ‘I’ve seen it too many times.’

  Agla sniffed audibly, and both Runa and Thyri were angling closer to mother and daughter.

  It’s almost as if she’s telling them their own story, Helga thought.

  Jorunn sniffled and reached up to clutch her mother’s hand. ‘But when I got your message last year, I found my courage. I stood up to him: I told him what I wanted – what I needed.’

  Complete with the suffering victim winning in the end. Helga felt the hairs rise on her forearms. She is . . . lying. She’s lying through her teeth! The shock forced her to work hard to close her mouth, and she thanked the gods she was out of sight.

  ‘You told him to come here,’ Unnthor said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where he met Karl again,’ Bjorn added.

  It was like watching a spooked horse. It had torn free of its reins, gained its head and now it was picking up speed. This is exactly what Hildigunnur would have done. What . . . had to be done. She tried to remember what had gone on between the three of them, but too much was happening. Later, she thought. Later.

  ‘Karl always brought home a take from the raids,’ Agla said quietly. ‘Even when I heard later that others had not done so well.’

  ‘Because he was the quickest and the bravest,’ Gytha added, like someone finishing a sentence. ‘Because . . .’ Her voice trailed off.

  ‘The little shit,’ Bjorn growled. ‘He sold you. He took money to make you Sigmar’s bride.’

  ‘But you got your dowry, didn’t you?’ Hildigunnur said. ‘Karl said . . .’

  ‘. . . he’d hand it over,’ Unnthor finished grimly. ‘He was going on a ship to Rus anyway.’

  This time the sniffles came from Agla, who had bowed her head in shame.

  The family were silent then, everyone thinking their own thoughts.

  Helga watched them, one by one, trying to imagine what was going on in their heads. Hulking Unnthor, furious about Sigmar, and Hildigunnur, standing over her daughter like a mother bear. Bjorn, lost in thoughts of his brother’s dishonesty. His wife, standing close, hand ever on the giant’s forearm. Agla and Gytha huddled together, shamed and shocked. Runa, oddly quiet and wary. She’d been very quick to forgive Jorunn. What did she know? And beside her, Aslak who had been so furious with his sister, was now looking deeply concerned.

  And in the middle was Jorunn, a liar.

  She was sure of it.

  Nothing added up. She and Sigmar had been inseparable since they arrived – and now? All of a sudden he was a horrible man? The pieces didn’t match – she didn’t even know what all of them were, but she had the awful feeling that something wasn’t right.

  But just when she’d composed herself enough to start arranging the things she’d seen, her father broke the silence.

  ‘So why shouldn’t I go after this bastard?’

  ‘You’re the same size, but luckily one of you has my blood as well,’ Hildigunnur said. ‘Think about it. If a husband slays a wife’s brother . . . ?’

  ‘The union is void,’ Unnthor said. />
  ‘And our sister walks away with a good chunk of Sigmar’s pelt,’ Aslak said.

  ‘And then maybe,’ Bjorn added, ‘we can find a way for her to inherit the rest quickly, but without loss of reputation. The dogs of the world be less likely to paw at her door if they know she’ll have their belongings and their name as well.’

  Jorunn smiled at her loving pair of big protectors and Helga’s stomach turned. You’d stab them both in the back if you thought you could get away with it.

  ‘The two of you can go and fetch him,’ Hildigunnur said firmly. ‘We’ll manage while you’re gone, and probably sleep better too.’ Some smirks around the room. ‘This is the last place he’ll show up.’

  The door slammed as Jaki entered. ‘It’s Sigmar. He’s half a mile down the road and approaching fast. And he’s not alone.’

  Chapter 13

  Standoff

  Helga never saw her mother reach for the knife. It just appeared in her hand, like it had always been there. Bjorn’s wide frame was highlighted by the sun as he walked through the door, Unnthor and Einar on his heels and Aslak following soon after.

  ‘Get the kids,’ Hildigunnur barked at Agla. ‘Take them out back. Hide in the woods.’ She turned to Helga. ‘Go with them – up the hill, then around.’

  ‘And where are you going?’ Helga said. It felt strange, listening to her words come out. It was almost like hearing herself speak through water.

  ‘We’ve got visitors,’ Hildigunnur said. ‘It would be rude not to welcome them. Now go.’

  ‘No,’ Helga said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m not leaving you.’

  In a flash, Hildigunnur’s face was inches from her. She could smell the old woman, all leather, heat and sunshine. But no fear. ‘Run.’ Her mother bit the word off almost before it was out there.

  Something in Helga twisted, bent and stuck sideways. ‘No.’

  ‘They’ll be lost without you.’ Outside, the dogs had started barking, loud and angry.

  ‘I know the woods,’ Runa said. When Hildigunnur’s head whipped round, she continued, a measure of her customary defiance creeping in, ‘She wants to be with you. Let her.’ She didn’t wait for an answer but grabbed the twins and headed after Thyri.