gnarled fingers over Astryd’s tight belly. The child in side distorted her skin as it fought against the small confines of the Lady of Sogna’s womb.
“How should I feel, you old fool?” Astryd said crossly. “Like I’m about to burst. I can’t get any bigger. When will the child come?”
“ He’ll come when he comes,” the old midwife an swered, chipper as a sparrow. She’d dealt with too many irritable pregnant women to let anything one might say upset her. “I’ve helped birth more than I can count, and no one can tell for sure when a babe will decide to come. But I’d say it’s a good thing I arrived today. If you’re still swollen in the morning, I’ll be surprised, so I will. Your husband did well to summon all his karls to his table. My master Torvald never travels without me these days since I doctor his gout, so it was lucky for you we were called.”
“A canny jarl might have wanted all the landholders in the fjord here when his son is born, so they can acclaim my issue the rightful heir to Sogna.” Astryd sniffed with disdain. “The truth is your summons has nothing to do with our child. Ornolf TrueAx has returned from Miklagard with a shipload of trade goods, so Gunnar wanted all his karls to come to the jarlhof to trade. The man can’t think past either his pecker or his pocket.”
Helge clucked her tongue against her teeth. So there was profit to be made for the Jarl of Sogna. The fact that the general summons had yielded an experienced midwife as well was just a happy accident. If Gunnar put the clink of coins above his wife’s safe de livery of an heir, Helge spared a moment to pity Lady Astryd in her choice of husbands.
She pulled down the Lady of Sogna’s tunic and grabbed her hands to help her sit up. When she did, the old midwife’s gaze fell on the amber hammer at Astryd’s throat. She blinked twice. Before she could stop herself, Helge reached up and grasped the amulet to look at it more closely.
It couldn’t be, and yet there it was. Many amber hammers had been fashioned, but there couldn’t be two little talismans of Thor with a tiny orchid in them just like the one that had belonged to her long-dead mistress.
“Little Elf,” she whispered, as she felt her wrinkled face going pale. How many times over the long years had the memory of that pitiful bundle of fur on the ice stolen into her dreams and woken her with a guilty start?
She remembered it all with knife-sharp clarity. The babe just wouldn't stop wailing. . .
Astryd grabbed the hammer out of Helge’s hand. “ What’s the matter with you, old woman?”
“ Begging your pardon, my lady, I’m sure.” Helge ducked her head deferentially. “But where did you get that amber hammer? It’s such a pretty little thing, so it is.”
“One of the thralls was wearing it when she first came here,” Astryd admitted. Her face contorted to a snarl. “Far too fine for the likes of her, but she’s a cheeky thing. Styles herself a skald, though for all that, the hussy is nothing more than a bed-slave to my hus band’s brother.”
Helge helped Astryd struggle to her swollen feet. “And where might I find that thrall?”
“In Bjorn the Black’s chamber, no doubt,” Astryd said. “But you’ll see her tonight. She amuses the men with silly tales, though what they see in her perfor mance is a mystery to me.”
Helge wondered whether she’d recognize Little Elf when she saw her.
* * *
That night, for the first time since the accident, his little brother felt up to joining the crowd in the great hall for nattmal. Gunnar gritted his teeth while the assembly greeted Bjorn with cheers. His brother leaned gently on his staff as he and Rika made their way to the dais.
“I didn’t know we had such an old man in our midst,” the barrel-chested Canute said loudly as Bjorn limped by. Gunnar smiled at the insult.
Quicker than Gunnar expected, Bjorn
“How should I feel, you old fool?” Astryd said crossly. “Like I’m about to burst. I can’t get any bigger. When will the child come?”
“ He’ll come when he comes,” the old midwife an swered, chipper as a sparrow. She’d dealt with too many irritable pregnant women to let anything one might say upset her. “I’ve helped birth more than I can count, and no one can tell for sure when a babe will decide to come. But I’d say it’s a good thing I arrived today. If you’re still swollen in the morning, I’ll be surprised, so I will. Your husband did well to summon all his karls to his table. My master Torvald never travels without me these days since I doctor his gout, so it was lucky for you we were called.”
“A canny jarl might have wanted all the landholders in the fjord here when his son is born, so they can acclaim my issue the rightful heir to Sogna.” Astryd sniffed with disdain. “The truth is your summons has nothing to do with our child. Ornolf TrueAx has returned from Miklagard with a shipload of trade goods, so Gunnar wanted all his karls to come to the jarlhof to trade. The man can’t think past either his pecker or his pocket.”
Helge clucked her tongue against her teeth. So there was profit to be made for the Jarl of Sogna. The fact that the general summons had yielded an experienced midwife as well was just a happy accident. If Gunnar put the clink of coins above his wife’s safe de livery of an heir, Helge spared a moment to pity Lady Astryd in her choice of husbands.
She pulled down the Lady of Sogna’s tunic and grabbed her hands to help her sit up. When she did, the old midwife’s gaze fell on the amber hammer at Astryd’s throat. She blinked twice. Before she could stop herself, Helge reached up and grasped the amulet to look at it more closely.
It couldn’t be, and yet there it was. Many amber hammers had been fashioned, but there couldn’t be two little talismans of Thor with a tiny orchid in them just like the one that had belonged to her long-dead mistress.
“Little Elf,” she whispered, as she felt her wrinkled face going pale. How many times over the long years had the memory of that pitiful bundle of fur on the ice stolen into her dreams and woken her with a guilty start?
She remembered it all with knife-sharp clarity. The babe just wouldn't stop wailing. . .
Astryd grabbed the hammer out of Helge’s hand. “ What’s the matter with you, old woman?”
“ Begging your pardon, my lady, I’m sure.” Helge ducked her head deferentially. “But where did you get that amber hammer? It’s such a pretty little thing, so it is.”
“One of the thralls was wearing it when she first came here,” Astryd admitted. Her face contorted to a snarl. “Far too fine for the likes of her, but she’s a cheeky thing. Styles herself a skald, though for all that, the hussy is nothing more than a bed-slave to my hus band’s brother.”
Helge helped Astryd struggle to her swollen feet. “And where might I find that thrall?”
“In Bjorn the Black’s chamber, no doubt,” Astryd said. “But you’ll see her tonight. She amuses the men with silly tales, though what they see in her perfor mance is a mystery to me.”
Helge wondered whether she’d recognize Little Elf when she saw her.
* * *
That night, for the first time since the accident, his little brother felt up to joining the crowd in the great hall for nattmal. Gunnar gritted his teeth while the assembly greeted Bjorn with cheers. His brother leaned gently on his staff as he and Rika made their way to the dais.
“I didn’t know we had such an old man in our midst,” the barrel-chested Canute said loudly as Bjorn limped by. Gunnar smiled at the insult.
Quicker than Gunnar expected, Bjorn
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