Page 10

CHAPTER 10

The forty-eighth day of the men’s sojourn on the island

The last of the women hailed Astrid farewell, balancing a basket of fish on her hip. None seemed to mind receiving their mackerel further on in the day, and it saved effort, having them meet her upon the beach to help distribute the bounty.

Having stowed her boat, Astrid scrambled up the dunes, then stopped to look back. The sun was dipping into a beautiful sunset.

The gods were watching over her, Frida had said, and who was Astrid to argue? She’d resolved to open herself to new ways of doing things—and not just when it came to fishing. J?rgen had been coaxing her to remain with him long after her usual rising time. Instead, it was he who did the rising—twice or thrice before he’d release her from the bed furs!

Astrid smiled to herself. She was becoming quite wanton, putting pleasure before duty, but J?rgen declared the fish would still be waiting for her, and he was right. Those past days, the sea had been remarkably calm, allowing her to sail a little farther out, and she’d been able to fill her nets swiftly.

Meanwhile, J?rgen continued helping with various tasks around the settlement and still found time to prepare their evening meal.

What had happened on the far side of the island had become like a figment of her imagination, blended with her father’s half-forgotten stories. She and J?rgen shared an unspoken agreement to avoid speaking of it, and his bad dreams seemed to be subsiding. The gods wanted them to be content, and she was determined they would be.

Reaching home, she paused before entering. The door was ajar, and the fragrant scent of cooking wafted out.

Her pulse gave a small skip. She was hungry enough to eat straight away, but it was entirely possible J?rgen would have other ideas. The day before, he’d had a hot bath waiting for her return. While she’d soaked, he’d fed her from a platter of cheese and fruits hot-seared upon the skillet. When her hair had dried, he’d plaited it, weaving with such skill that she’d almost fallen asleep as he tugged gently upon the lengths. He’d put her to bed then, and they’d made love.

The stew of rabbit hadn’t been eaten until much later…

With her heart glowing warm, she stepped into the hut. “Something smells good.” She didn’t see him at first, for J?rgen was at the very back of the room, bending over the old chest in the corner.

“Astrid!” He started at the sound of her voice, the trunk’s lid banging shut.

“Are you… looking for something?” She couldn’t think what that might be, for the chest contained only an old sail, spare rope, and needles and hemp she used for repairing nets.

“I’m sorry.” He leaned back against the trunk. “‘Twas wrong of me to pry without you here.”

“‘Tis no trouble.” Astrid came over directly. “Here, I’ll show you.”

“Nay. There’s no need.” His hand shot out to rest upon the lid. “I saw enough. Just old things. Naught of interest. Come, supper is ready. Take a seat, and I’ll serve us both.”

As he walked away, she turned back to the chest. A thought had sparked in her mind, and she had to know.

As soon as she opened the lid, it was obvious. Someone had been at work, mending the rent across the old fabric. The tattered sail was no longer pushed to the bottom of the trunk, and a threaded needle sat atop its folds.

“Astrid!” J?rgen’s voice held a panicked edge. “I didn’t think you’d mind. We’re making good progress. A few more days and?—”

Astrid guessed perfectly well his intention and that of his jarl. She cut him off. “Of course, you need the sail.”

Dropping his chin to his chest, he rubbed at his hair. “I shouldn’t have gone behind your back. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to…”

Steal? Lie to me?

When would he have told me? She straightened at the goading question. Close enough to his departure that there was less time for me to make a fuss? Or perhaps he’d have explained it one night at high tide, deaf to any protest as he carried me down to the beach.

Frida had made her believe she and J?rgen were more than just lovers. Weren’t they supposed to be in this together?

All men are like this. They only tell us what they think we need to know. We’re expected to fall in with their plans, no matter what.

“I want you to come with me. You know that, Astrid.” He nudged her chin upward, making her look up at him.

“And what shall I do when you’ve taken me there, back to Skálavík?” Anger and disquiet fought in her breast. “You plan to fill me with children? You’ll forsake all others to sit at home? Or shall it be I who does that while you continue your life as it was?”

He looked abashed. “There’s the fjord. You can still fish.”

Even now, he says nothing of loving me, of making me his wife. Is it so hard?

Astrid refused to beg.

“Here, I’m the only one proficient with a boat. Where you live, there must be teams of men. They won’t welcome a lone female.” She didn’t know why she was arguing. Did she even care if she had to give up fishing? What did it matter?

A new desperation entered his eyes. “That might be true, but I’ll provide for you, Astrid. You can have an easier life. I’ll set up a home.”

He doesn’t even have a place of his own. He’s a grown man who sleeps on a bench in Eldberg’s great hall, his sword within reach. Can he give up that life of carefree carousing?

He hadn’t described his life in much detail, but she could guess what it must mean, being a member of the jarl’s personal guard.

“Why do you really want me to come? Speak plainly!”

“There’s something wrong here. We both know it!” J?rgen responded to her snappishness. “Perhaps your men were right. This island is cursed!”

“Aye, ‘tis cursed!” Astrid raised her voice to match his. “We womenfolk are cursed to know nothing but unhappiness.”

J?rgen heaved a sigh. “You must know I need you. You’re the only one who knows the route through the rocks of the bay. How are we to leave without your guidance?”

A wave of aversion overtook her, near as strong as that she’d felt in the cave.

He only needs me to navigate.

“For the love of the gods, see sense, woman!” J?rgen tilted her chin upward. “I’m leaving, and you’re coming with me.”

She shrugged him away, hardly trusting herself to speak. “I’ll keep your secret, but that’s all. There’s naught else to say.”

There was, of course.

He ought to say he loved her, to vow that he’d stay on the island rather than take her against her will, that she was the only thing that mattered. It was asking too much, but she wanted it, nonetheless.

“Do what you must. Take the sail. Take food. I won’t stop you.” With that said, she ran for the door before the tears burning in her eyes formed tracks down her cheeks.