Page 7

F or hours, Gytha treasured that early morning conversation without sharing it with the others.

She turned Alexander’s words over in her mind, remembering the tone of his deep, rumbling laughter, the feel of his hot breath on her face, and the trembling, exhausted strength and solidity of his shoulder.

The blood-crusted gouge down his long muzzle.

When she had made her decision, she told her parents.

“You’re out of your mind,” Ivarr said firmly. “Absolutely not.”

“Pabbi, please.” She stood and walked around the table to kneel in front of him. She took his hand and put it to her forehead. “The fever is gone, and Alexander did it. He could have held healing over my head and bargained with me for it, but he didn’t.”

“But it’s a bear!” Her father’s voice rose. “Bears eat people!”

“His name is Alexander, and he didn’t eat us. He gave us food and healed Mamma and me.” Still holding his hand, she said, “You scratched his face pretty badly. He wasn’t even angry. He said you were brave to face a bear to save your family.”

Her father’s blond eyebrows drew downward in disbelief. “How did it tell you that? Animals don’t talk.”

Solveig said, “I heard it speak, too, Pabbi. He has a nice voice, all rumbly and soft.”

Ivarr looked from one girl to the other. “Sigrid? Have you heard it talk?”

The girl bit her lip and reluctantly shook her head. “No,” she said. “Not in words. I only heard growling and rumbling. But I saw it breathe into Mamma’s face and then she was well. It didn’t growl at her or bite or anything. Just breathed at her.”

She looked at Hlif for support, and Hlif reluctantly nodded.

“I felt his breath on my face like a hot wind, and it felt like clean fire in my bones, burning away the fever. I can believe he is not an ordinary bear.” Then she frowned.

“But I agree that the task is not safe, and I would risk myself sooner than I would risk you, Gytha. Will he take me instead?”

“Mama!” Gytha said, shocked. “The little ones need you! Papa needs you!”

Hlif said sharply, “You are my child, Gytha! It is my right and duty to protect you.”

“But I must do what is right!” Gytha cried.

The argument went for hours, until everyone had wept at least once. Even Halvard and Brinja cried, for they were not used to raised voices or disagreement of any sort.

In the end, Ivarr all but barred the door.

“I won’t keep you a prisoner, Gytha,” he said at last. “But even if I believe that you hearing it talk wasn’t the fever but the true words of the bear, I cannot think it wise to go traipsing off to the wild north with a predator as your only companion.

Whatever it wants, it can’t be good for you. ”

“He has been kind to us, Pabbi, and I want to help him.”

Ivarr stopped pacing and faced her. “No good can come of it, Gytha. Don’t do it.”

She stepped closer and put her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. His heartbeat in her ear felt like his steady, reliable strength.

Even now, she was not tall enough to put her chin on his shoulder as Mamma did.

He wrapped his arms around her, and she realized he was afraid.

She looked up at him. “I’m not frightened, Pabbi. If he meant to hurt me, or any of us, he has had so many chances. If I am hurt, then I know it will not be by his choice.”

He sighed and tightened his arms around her, but he said nothing else.

Long after the lamps were blown out and everyone was in bed, she heard her parents talking in anguished whispers.

She woke long before dawn and dressed quietly. She wrapped some bread and cheese in a clean rag and stuffed them inside her coat. Then she peeked outside.

The bear stood at the edge of the trees, a shadow lost in the shadows until it took a step forward. Silently he strode to her until they stood face to face.

“You are brave. I did not think to see you.” The rumbling words were so soft and low that Gytha barely heard them.

The young woman took a deep breath to steady her voice. “I will go with you and do as you asked.”

The bear twitched in surprise and stared at her. “You will?”

“It means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” she asked softly.

“It does.” Alexander sighed. “But you are not bound by what binds me. You need not take on this hardship. ”

Gytha licked her lips, tempted by the opportunity to forget it all. A whole year without her family! But the bear—Alexander—had been generous to them. He had saved them from a cruel death.

Wouldn’t it be wrong to refuse to help him in return?

The door opened suddenly, and Ivarr stepped outside holding a lamp, his eyes wide. “It’s not growling,” he said under his breath. “What strange creature is this?”

He held the lamp higher, so the light gleamed on the bear’s glittering eyes and caught the blood dried dark on his muzzle. “What do you want with my daughter?”

Alexander said, “I have asked a great favor. I have not compelled her.”

Ivarr’s eyes widened, but he looked at Gytha. “Do you hear words? I only hear growling.”

Gytha nodded. “He said he asked a favor, but he has not compelled me. It’s true, Papa. He isn’t forcing me.”

“Why do you want her in particular? Couldn’t anyone do what you need?” Ivarr addressed the bear and then looked to Gytha to understand the answering growls.

“It could be any maiden, unmarried and unpromised,” Alexander answered. “But I had only enough magic to ask one. I chose you, Gytha, because I saw how courageously you bore your suffering, and because my time here in the south is short. I am bound tightly, and I will soon either return or die.”

Gytha relayed this to Ivarr, who studied the bear with narrowed eyes.

“What will you do if she refuses?” he asked.

“I will die here. I will not return alone.”

Gytha met her father’s eyes.

“He told me not to agree out of obligation. He isn’t forcing me at all. But have you not taught me to meet kindness with kindness? How much kindness has he already given our family? Mamma and I are healed, and we all have food enough to last the winter. Would it not be cruel to refuse him this?

Ivarr’s eyes burned with emotion. “It is cruel to ask so much of you.”

The bear dropped his head. “He is right. I should not have asked.” His voice was nearly inaudible.

Gytha took a deep breath. “Even before I knew he faced death, I knew that I ought to go with him. I need to do this to stand upright before God and before you and Mama. I need to know I was brave enough to do the right thing.”

“And the right thing is to go with him for a year and risk all manner of suffering for a bear?”

“Yes, it is.” She raised her chin and met his eyes, keeping her gaze steady. “You taught me honor and compassion, and you taught me courage. I’ve seen you live it well, Papa. Let me follow your good example.”

With one eye on the bear, Ivarr set the lamp down on the snow.

He wrapped his arms around her again, heedless of the bear and the cold deep enough to freeze a man’s blood in his veins.

In the strength of his arms and the shuddering of his chest, she felt his grief and pride.

“Don’t leave without kissing Mama and your brothers and sisters. ”

“Of course not.” She smiled up at him and stepped back inside.

The others were stirring, even though it was far earlier than the little ones usually woke, and she embraced them one by one, kissing the little ones on the cheeks for good measure.

“Be good for Mama and Papa while I’m gone,” she said at last. “I’m not afraid, so there’s no reason for you to be. I’m having an adventure!”

Sigrid looked at her doubtfully, but Solveig smiled back at her. “You’ll be all right,” she said, her voice only a little unsteady. “He’s a nice bear. ”

Her mother went outside and talked quietly with her father for several minutes. Then she hugged Gytha tightly and whispered in her ear, “Are you sure, Honeycake? You don’t have to do this.”

“I’m sure, Mama.”

When she stepped outside again, she had a pack full of hastily made flatcakes, some acorn flour, and cooked elk venison wrapped in cloth.

The meat and flatcakes would freeze in the pack and be ready to warm and eat as she traveled, and the flour could be cooked when she arrived at their destination.

Her father still stared at Alexander, who stood like a great white mountain, motionless but for the faint rippling of his thick fur in the breeze.

“Take good care of my daughter,” Ivarr said, his voice rough with emotion.

“Understand this: I love her, and if you hurt her, I’ll hunt you to the end of the earth and beyond. Understand?”

Alexander bowed his head solemnly, and the man pressed his lips together.

The bear’s rumbling voice reverberated in Gytha’s bones, soft and deep. “The way is very long, and your legs will tire. Will you let me carry you?” She nodded, and he lowered himself. “Climb on my back, and hold on tight.”

Her father watched in awe as she climbed up. The white fur was so thick that her legs sank into it, and she buried her hands in it, grabbing handfuls to steady herself. “Does it hurt when I hold on?”

The bear snuffled as if in soft laughter. “Not at all. Don’t fall.” Then he took off in a surging, ground-eating run that carried them into the forest in moments.

All day and night he ran without stopping, his powerful muscles working beneath Gytha’s legs.

She had never ridden a horse, but it must be easier than this!

She rocked and swayed, and she might have fallen off except that she clamped her legs around the bear’s ribs and gripped his fur with both hands.

She kept her head down to avoid the lower branches of the spruces and firs, but the bear chose paths that did not have too many low-hanging branches, and he slowed when he approached them to give her time to duck.