Jilliand Read online

  “Hmm … and grow?” He looked at her through narrowed eyes as his hand loosened the ties on her dress and opened the front. Carefully, his hand explored further. “A son?” he smiled broadly at her. “You already are giving me a child? Lucky for me, you are not further along, wife. I have been gone too long.” With that, he carried her to their bed.

  When at last, they both lay drained, Jilliand turned to him, laughing. “I thought you would be hungry.”

  “I was,” he answered, smiling and relaxed with his eyes closed, “For you. Now, I would like food. And tell me how you spent your time. I will tell you how I spent mine. I think I had more fun. I want you with me, when next I sail,” Rurik said. “If the child is born then, so be it. If not, so be it. You come with me.”

  Jilliand was well pleased. She didn’t care where they would go, only that she would be with him. To be with him when he sailed may not be usual, but nothing about her life had been usual.

  As Rurik finished his meal, he eyed the tub. “You think to get me in there? Why?”

  Jilliand simply smiled. One of the things she found most pleasing was the Viking attention to cleanliness, which was contrary to stories she had heard her whole life. She began to fill the tub, placing heated rocks in the water to ensure it would stay warm longer. Then, gently pulling his hand, she led him to the tub. He scowled, but allowed her to pull him. His manhood demanded attention.

  “Hmm … we’ll see,” his wife said as she smiled sweetly. When he was seated, leaning back, and she began to scrub him, he smiled.

  “This is not so bad. Do I get to bathe you?” He lay there, with his eyes closed. As she rinsed him off and added more hot water, she could tell he was falling asleep. Dry and lying on the bed, he hardly knew when she covered him and cleaned up the house. He slept. Ever so gently, Jilliand lay down beside him. He didn’t wake up, though he reached for her and pulled her closer.

  Rurik’s return meant a celebration was under way. The great hall was filling with people. Other warriors and their families were filing in. It was a time reminiscent of Christmas for Jilliand. After the celebration, they would begin to repair the boats for his next expedition. Rurik’s fleet alone would consist of eight ships. He would take families with him this time. Jilliand never asked where they were preparing to go. She was going too; that’s all that mattered.

  Jilliand stood in her house, finishing up with the sweets she had baked. She softly sang songs that she believed were long since forgotten. From where did I hear such music? She could only vaguely remember the sounds of voices coming to her in her old cell. She shuddered at the memory of that place. Rurik opened the door to the smell of sweet breads, pine needles in the fire, and the sound of Jilliand’s voice, soft and clear. He had with him Dir and Askold, and their children and wives. Jilliand did not hear the door open. Everyone stood quietly, listening. Finally, she felt the draft and turned, shocked to see the small crowd. She held her breath, unsure how they would take her songs.

  Everyone’s eyes were on her, except the children. They had heard her sing before. Their only mission was to discover what smelled so good. Running to her, giving her hugs and quick kisses, they began searching the room, looking for the treats.

  “Just like they tell you.” Askold pointed to her. “She sings all the time. It is true, Rurik.”

  Jilliand felt a certain fear for the first time since she had come to this place. Before Rurik could answer, she asked, “And of what do they say I sing, Askold?” She wanted to say she meant no harm, but she had a feeling that would not matter if someone perceived she sang to her God.

  “They only say you sing and that your songs bring much joy. The gods are pleased to hear you sing, Jilliand, and they smile on us. Even warriors like the sounds coming from your mouth. She sings for us tonight?” he asked Rurik.

  Jilliand could see the disapproval on Rurik’s face. He answered carefully, “Of what would you sing, wife?”

  “I want the bug song!” Dir’s youngest daughter chimed in. Surprised, Rurik glanced at her.

  “No, the bird one. It’s the best,” insisted Askold’s youngest son.

  God love these children. They have saved me again, Jilliand thought. “I would sing for the children first. Then, for the older ones, I sing of the Viking ships. If that would be allowed.”

  It was agreed she would sing. Everyone decided to taste the sweets before they left. The children crowded around Jilliand. She laughed at them, scolded them, and hugged them. Even the tough older boys were relaxed with her. When it was decided everyone should move to the hall, Rurik stayed behind to speak with his wife.

  He stood looking at her sternly. “I have allowed you to speak to your god and wear your symbol. Do not take those privileges lightly, Jilliand. You will not sing to our children of your god. You could lose this.” He touched her beloved silver cross. His tone allowed no room for discussion, but Jilliand was not known for letting that stop her.

  “I will sing to our children of my God, just as you will tell them of your gods, teach the boys your skills, and love the girls for their smiles. Do you know so much? You think my God does not speak to yours? I love you, Rurik. I come to your bed of my own will. I would die for you and your people. I will keep my God in my heart. I sing to the children of things they must know. You will see.” With a pert movement jutting her chin out, she turned to leave. Rurik smacked her bottom, hard. She froze, took a deep breath, and whirled, ready to do battle, but he quickly covered her mouth with his, kissing her long and gently, smiling, his eyes filled with mischief.

  At the hall, Jilliand was happily moving through the crowd. By this time, she knew nearly everyone there. She was seen as a member of this great family. She was a friend, a teacher, and now, with Olga’s help, a quiet leader.

  As promised by Rurik, Jilliand finally stood to sing. The children yelled out subjects of songs, and she began to sing. First, she sang a lullaby and then moved up the age groups. When she felt she must stop, she noted, “I have one more. This is for the young warriors among us.” Her song ended with, “The sea opens her arms. With the sea’s waves, Viking ships disappear into the mist.”

  When she finished, she sat down. “Jilliand, from where do you get such ideas?” one of the men asked.

  She glanced at Rurik, “I make them up from what I know.”

  A small voice came to her, “Did your mother sing those songs?”

  “I never knew my mother,” Jilliand smiled, a little sadly. “There was no one to sing to me.”

  “How is it you know such things? You have told our young men stories of battles. You talk of things only men know. How do you know these things?” another man asked.

  “I have been in battles, many battles,” Jilliand explained quietly, “My father wanted a boy. When my mother died during childbirth, he made the decision to raise his only child as a boy. And so he did, until time went on and it was no longer possible to hide what I am.”

  “Is that when Rurik saved you?” a child’s voice asked.

  Jilliand smiled, “No, not yet. He took a little while to get around to me. I had to outride other men and struggle for many months before he came for me.”

  “Did you run from him too?” the same child asked.

  “Who prompts this child?” Jilliand asked, and the people laughed. “No. I did not run. It is impossible to outrun a Viking.” Before any more questions could be asked of her, she looked down.

  Rurik immediately stood. “She was beaten by her father until she escaped from him. For that, we sailed last time. That score is settled.” Jilliand gasped. Her eyes sought Rurik’s. His eyes locked onto hers, without wavering. “It is done, Jilliand, as I said it would be.” He would not tell Jilliand that her father had been the sacrificial offering to Odin in the rite of the blood eagle. He turned back to the hall. “We celebrate!” At his words, the hall erupted into gaiety. Jilliand sat still. She could hardly imagine not worrying about her father finding her somehow. Rurik placed his hand on her should
er. “You are not to be sad, Jilliand,” he ordered. “Your last tie to England is gone.”

  Jilliand turned to him. “I am not sad, Rurik. I feel as though a great weight is taken from me.”

  “You feel what is expected. Now is a time for celebration.” He took her hand, and together they walked among their people.

  Back at their house after the celebration, Rurik pulled Jilliand to him. “I have something for you. Come see.” He led her to the chair by the fire and handed her a small pouch. He sat cross-legged on the floor, watching her.

  Jilliand smiled at him. He was like a child. Slowly, she opened the pouch. Pulling the first things out, she found more combs for her hair—beautiful silver combs, with jewels in them. Pulling out more items, she found gold bracelets and several gold chains. At the bottom, she fished out a small bag. She opened the bag and brought out a small pendant and a ring that matched the ring she had given Rurik on the day they were married. At first, she was puzzled. “Where have I seen these before?”

  Then it hit her. She jumped up so quickly that everything in her lap went flying to the floor. She sought out the locket she had kept from her old friend, the captain, and opened it. There it was: the painting of her mother wearing the same pendant and the ring. Her eyes filled with tears. “But, how?”

  “It matters not how. I got them.” He was standing by this time, carefully fastening the chain around her neck and slipping the ring onto her right hand. Touching them, she looked at him, her eyes brimming. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face on his shoulder.

  “Enough—this is a time for celebration, not crying, woman.” He smiled at her, wiping her tears away.

  “Sometimes women cry for joy,” she whispered.

  CHAPTER 20

  IN THE MONTHS THAT FOLLOWED, the settlement was charged with a sense of anticipation. Jilliand knew Rurik must be planning for something greater than the usual trips he had taken before. Rurik was building up his fleet. Men were coming to talk, commonly staying until late at night. She was happy he frequently chose to meet in his home. She simply laid out plenty of food and drink for them and then walked to Olga’s house.

  Her thoughts constantly turned to the upcoming voyage. Just the thought of leaving with Rurik made her heart lighter. What will it be like on the ship this time? I must bring practical clothes for me and something for our child, in case he comes early. Jilliand’s mind made list after list.

  As the days grew shorter, Jilliand grew larger. She had no experience with being pregnant. The changes in her body were not comfortable. She was a small woman. Rurik was a large man. This baby would be a large boy. At first, she refused to think about it. As the time to leave came closer, she could no longer ignore the impact of the weight she carried. By the end of the day, her ankles were swollen, and her appetite began to shrink.

  This morning, Rurik had rolled over in bed, pulled her to him, and began exploring her changing body. He loved to rest his hand on her swollen belly and feel their son move. “Tonight, we gather to make an accurate accounting of the supplies we take with us. I will be late this night. We leave in one day’s time.” He was slowly arousing her and himself. She returned the favor, smiling in satisfaction when he lay quietly, next to her.

  With the passing days, Jilliand had already come to accept what Rurik was now saying. “You must stay here, Jilliand. Your time is coming soon. ’Tis not a good thing for you or my son to be with me now, though I want you with me. Other families are going this time. You cannot.” He held her gently, tenderly. “I will return before your last month. I will hold him and be certain all know he is my rightful heir.” For a long moment, he was silent. “Ah, Jilliand, as I love to be with you, I love the coming fight as much. I am Viking.”

  “No, Rurik,” Jilliand softly corrected him. “You love the fight more. I know that and can accept that. You are Viking. I love you deeper for it.”

  Jilliand accepted she would not be leaving with him. She would not endanger his child. She never could have imagined how cumbersome the pregnancy would be, nor could she imagine how she could ever manage alone on a ship filled with men should the child come before they returned. Even the thought of the women on other of Rurik’s ships did little to lessen her apprehension. Since her arrival at Rurik’s settlement, Jilliand had witnessed several births. To her, it did not seem something the men should watch. It would be hard enough to have Rurik see her then. She was not certain she could get through the coming ordeal as well as the women around her seemed to have done—with stoicism. Truth be told, I now dread what is coming.

  The time came for Rurik to leave. The ships were being loaded with weapons, foodstuffs, and other supplies. Jilliand felt a surge of pride watching him. She waved to the steersman, remembering his kindness when first she met him.

  Olga lay her hand on Jilliand’s arm. “I’ll not see my son again, child. One never knows, but I feel you carry a girl. Ask Rurik to name her for me. I have had a rich life, Jilliand. You made my last year one of great joy.” It saddened Jilliand to think Rurik might not see his mother again, but Jilliand knew the old woman was probably right. In the last several months, Olga had begun to move much more slowly, ate little, and was distant when the women were all together. Jilliand was the only person she wanted around her.

  Turning again to the ordered chaos from ship to shore, Jilliand watched the men. Asger was on Rurik’s ship. He proudly helped everyone wherever he could. He stood at the side and waved to Olga. His eyes held Olga’s eyes for a long time. Neither was sad. The love between them was evident. Jilliand envied them. She had to struggle to hide her sadness from Rurik. It seemed unbearable to be without him. Her hands went to her growing belly. Thank you, God, for this child. The time will pass quickly until his father returns to welcome him. Her silent prayer was carried on the winds beginning to build.

  As Jilliand watched the preparations with sadness in her heart, Rurik came ashore to speak with her before he had to leave. Holding her close, he kissed her. “You have made me proud, Jilliand. You belong where you are now, with me. You must stay home this time. You are not to risk yourself nor my first child.” He smiled at her affectionately. “Come, let me feel the child once more. And let me touch the lips I love. I will come for you before the child is born.”

  Jilliand kissed him again as he held her tightly. “Fight well, Rurik. Return in two months to greet our child. I will always love you. Remember, Viking, I will wait for you.”

  He nodded, touched her face, kissed her lips once more, and left. Jilliand waited until they were long out of sight before she wept. A dark sense of foreboding crept into her heart and took up residence.

  CHAPTER 21

  RURIK HAD ONLY BEEN GONE one month, but already Jilliand felt a cold emptiness in her heart. Can I live for these endless months without him around me? Why do I feel so heavy? I have his child within me, and his family is now my family. Why do I feel such darkness? Jilliand could not shake the feeling. It woke her in the morning and followed her during the day. It was the last thought she had at night. She prayed for the quick return of her husband to keep her aching heart quiet.

  This day, like every day now, the air was crisp and cold. The mornings were grey and dreary, with temperatures hanging near freezing. Only when the sun was directly above did its rays scatter the darkness, though the temperatures rose very little. Darkness would come again in the afternoons. The land seemed to pull within itself. Very few animals stayed out. Wolves could be heard in the distance. The cattle, sheep, and horses were kept in pens inside sheds providing shelter. On some days, the settlement was so quiet, with the only lights coming from lamps, candles, and fireplaces, that one could imagine it deserted.

  Jilliand had already walked far behind the settlement and up a hill, as was her habit each morning. Her every thought was about Rurik. Somehow, she had to find a way to put him aside and concentrate on the coming birth. Her vomiting was so severe, it was embarrassing. She wondered why it continued. Climb
ing the hill kept her body busy, even if her mind refused to give up its mission, just as her thoughts refused to leave the man she loved. She stopped to rest below an outcropping of large boulders. She came here frequently, having discovered she could watch her village go about its life from here. The beauty of the soft lights coming from below was comforting to her. In the dim sunlight, in the distance she could see waves foam as they touched the land. Someday, she knew she would see the sails from Rurik’s ship upon the horizon.

  Quietly at first, a sound broke through her fog. She turned from the sight of the waves, tipped her head, and stood, listening. The sound was so soft that Jilliand was uncertain it was real. There it is again. She began to move farther up the hill, looking around. A rumble, getting louder and louder came to her. Horses—lots of horses, she was sure of it. At the hilltop, she climbed upon the rocky point, looking for the source of the sound. Heads appeared first, bobbing up and down. Over one hundred men on horseback plowed toward the houses now left with few men to defend them. The riders cried out as they swept into the hamlet. Jilliand shuddered as she recognized the sound. Like a great army of locusts, the invaders began killing everything around them.

  The slaughter going on below stunned her for a moment. The cries of the women and children jerked her to action. “Olga!” Jilliand tried to scramble off the boulders and down the hillside through the thick brush and trees. Awkward with child, and struggling through the snow and over rocks, she fell several times. As she came closer to the scene, she stopped. It was already nearly over. Sinking into the brush, Jilliand covered her ears, trying to block out all the sounds of a one-sided, swift assault. Only burned-out shells of houses were left. Bodies of the men, women, children, and animals were strewn about.