"Saga" - Chapter 13, part 1
Content - Brokeback AuAu fic taking place in the Viking era (Scandinavia, ca AD 850). No warnings for this chapter. This chapter rated PG.
Disclaimer - The original Ennis and Jack who inspired this fic do not belong to me, but to Annie Proulx, Diana Ossana, Larry McMurtry and Focus Features. I intend no disrespect and make no profit.
A/Ns - Links to previous chapters follow after the cut. Explanations of names and terms follow after each chapter. Thank you very much to Soulan for betaing the chapter!
An object from Einnis's raiding in Ireland is mentioned in this chapter. It has not appeared in the story before, but have patience and all will become clear.....
Links to previous chapters:
Chapter 1: http://gilli-ann.livejournal.com/22271.html
Chapter 2: http://gilli-ann.livejournal.com/32308.html
Chapter 3: http://gilli-ann.livejournal.com/33130.html
Chapter 4: http://gilli-ann.livejournal.com/33946.html
Chapter 5: http://gilli-ann.livejournal.com/34153.html
Chapter 6: http://gilli-ann.livejournal.com/34535.html
Chapter 7: http://gilli-ann.livejournal.com/35104.html
Chapter 8: http://gilli-ann.livejournal.com/35376.html
Chapter 9: http://gilli-ann.livejournal.com/36279.html
Chapter 10, part 1: http://gilli-ann.livejournal.com/37232.html
Chapter 10, part 2: http://gilli-ann.livejournal.com/37564.html
Chapter 11, part 1: http://gilli-ann.livejournal.com/38138.html
Chapter 11, part 2: http://gilli-ann.livejournal.com/38245.html
Chapter 12, part 1: http://gilli-ann.livejournal.com/39029.html
Chapter 12, part 2: http://gilli-ann.livejournal.com/39347.html
Saga - Chapter 13
The group of men returning from Einstad arrived home at the farm just in time for the evening meal. The two freemen went to their places on one of the benches in the hall, Eoin had no other choice than to return to the thrall’s house after having unloaded the packhorse, and Einnis and Ketil found their places by the High Seat.
There was no sign of Sigrid. All the activities in preparation for the approaching wedding meant she never had a moment’s rest. That evening she was off visiting on a neighboring farm to make arrangements for wedding guests to stay over there.
After they’d sat through a subdued meal, Ketil sent for the bathhouse fires to be lit, and for one of the men who knew the use of the razor knife and scissors to attend to them there.
“We need to look our very best tomorrow, clean and groomed and well dressed. You look like a wild man of the woods, Einnis. It could hardly be otherwise, I know, but that’ll have to change, and quickly. Tomorrow’s an important day!”
Einnis had no reply, and as soon as he could, he left the table with a bowl of ale.
Tradition required him to greet the ancestors after a long time away from the farm. He sought the solitude this offered him and left the noisy hall for the barrows outside the main gate. Generations of important clan members had been buried in the grassy mounds so as to ensure they continued to care for the clan and to bring the farm luck even in death.
Einnis slowly walked to the largest barrow, where his original clan ancestor had been buried long ago, according to tradition. The tales had it that he on occasion would rise at night and ride from his resting place, fully armed, as a sign that the clan was in danger. It was long now since anyone had claimed seeing him ride under the moon, and everything was quiet tonight in the deepening shadows.
A few brave yellow coltsfoot flowers were nodding to Einnis from the side of the mound, greeting spring from amid the dried brown grasses of last year.
Einnis stood in the front of the grassy barrow for a while, looking slowly back and forth between it and the farm. His clan had lived here for many years, each generation defending, improving and adding to the farm before being laid to rest outside its gates with all due honor. He himself was named for the clan ancestor, Einnis Everwake the Old.
With a sigh he placed the bowl reverently at the bottom of the barrow for its occupant to enjoy, bent his head in respect, and walked with heavy steps back to the farm.
He followed Ketil to the bathhouse as soon as it was ready for them. The scathing steam loosened their muscles and had them gasping while sweat and dirt poured from every pore.
Ketil didn’t make any more attempts at jocularity, but kept quiet and sat with eyes closed in the billowing steam.
Einnis had his hair washed and cut and his beard and mustache neatly trimmed, and made the bathhouse thrall gave him a long and thorough rub-down as well. After the bath he drank several scoops of water and some ale, a new man in looks and smell, but not in heart and mind.
He told Ketil they would have to make the necessary plans the next day, as he was weary. This was evidently no lie; he was stumbling on his feet when he sought his boxed-in bed and closed its door between himself and the rest of the world.
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The brothers and two of Ketil’s men left the farm at midday the next day, riding stately horses and dressed in their best finery. Both wore expensive tunics of foreign cloth, richly decorated, and blue cloaks with costly jeweled clasps on the right shoulder. The brothers’ helmets shone, and their swords and belts as well as the horses’ tackle glittered when an occasional glint of sun peeked through the shifting clouds. Ketil looked eager and alert with a becoming blush to his face, but Einnis had dark circles under his eyes and was unusually pale, even for the season.
They had talked on the morning, going over what Einnis would say and how he would present Ketil’s achievements and talents, as well as the clan’s position. Ketil had been much encouraged by the talk, happy that the fortunes and fame of their clan were already on the rise. Helga could hardly fail to realize that.
Once she had been notified about her visitors, Helga Hauksdottir herself came out to greet them and bid them welcome. She led them to the table by the high seat, and sat down to talk while her serving women put forth mead in beakers, thin fine slices of bread baked with wheat, tidbits of roast grouse and a selection of carved dried meat served in handsomely decorated bowls.
Helga Hauksdottir was not tall, but carried herself with considerable composure, had a generous smile and an equally generous bosom, and sharp eyes full of life. Her blond hair was covered by a silk-shot linen wife’s coif, but she let it show over her forehead and at her neck. She wore several strands of big amber beads and an impressive number of keys over a overdress that looked uncommonly fine for everyday wear.
Confident and self-assured, she nevertheless had an easy manner, and the conversation between her and Ketil flowed freely over the mead beakers. They had already met some few times during the winter months whenever gatherings were arranged on farms in the valley, and so had established some common ground.
Talk turned to Ketil’s adventures abroad, and Helga seemed to enjoy herself and asked many interested questions about the foreign lands, peoples and customs.
In this way they remained at table for a long time, Ketil and Helga talking animatedly, and Einnis on occasion inserting a brief comment or two. The mead in the beakers was replenished more than once.
Eventually Helga looked out over her hall, where thralls were now preparing the tables for the household’s next meal, and sighed. “My husband traveled for many years, far away both east and west in viking, before we married. He too told me many tales of the places he’d seen. I longed to see those places, Kiev and Dublin and Miklagard - but we never traveled further together than to the fair at Brännö, once.” She frowned, her eyes going distant for a moment. “He traveled for long spells to Novgorod twice after we married, too - leaving the rule of the farm and all his properties to me the while.”
Looking up with a slightly twisted smile, she was firmly back in the here and now. “But that proves unexpectedly useful, since I am a widow now and have to fend for myself and to manage my properties and those of my daughter on my own. I am glad of the experience I’ve had in handling my own affairs.” She shook her head. “To think, after all his travels and raids, it was his fate to be killed facing enemies on his own farm’s threshold! I miss him. It gets lonely, being on my own.”
Ketil did not miss this obvious invitation to get to the point of their visit. “Not for long should you have to sit lonely and husbandless, Helga,” he said, and nodded to Einnis, then nudged his leg under the table when his brother remained silent.
Einnis appeared to be coming out of a trance, quickly collected himself, and launched into the agreed-upon proposal of marriage. Helga sat with demurely lowered eyes while she listened to his words, but she nevertheless spoke up to ask very astute questions whenever there was a point she wanted to understand better or hear more about. Ketil several times jumped in to answer such queries himself, clearly chafing at not being able to speak directly with her at this most important juncture in his life and hers.
Einnis did as custom demanded, though, and outlined Ketil’s achievements and possessions. He praised his brother’s good qualities, and also described the clan connections in detail, including those of Arna Mjodsdottir and Torgeirr Haraldson. Helga knew Mjod and his daughters from before, and nodded in approval of Einnis’s wife-to-be, but she didn’t know Torgeirr, and wanted to know more. She seemed pleased with the responses she got, and smiled at them both. Eventually, Einnis concluded by formally asking for her hand on Ketil’s behalf.
Helga sat for a moment in silence, studying her own hands that were resting calmly in her lap, and then looked Ketil straight in the eyes, her face unreadable as she responded.
“I am most honored by this proposal, Ketil Elmarson, and I think it is suitable in many ways. But I am just a woman alone in the world, and I would hardly want to make such an important decision without first consulting closely with my kin and clan. I cannot therefore today give you my yes or my no, but I will respond in due course.”
With that she rose from the table, and they had no choice but to do the same. Ketil bit his lip and bristled, struggling to keep silent and to remain polite.
Helga followed them to the door, and gave Ketil her hand. “We will talk again,” she said evenly in goodbye and smiled at him. “We will meet at your sister’s wedding.” She took her leave of Einnis as well, and then the brothers were outside just as dusk settled over the farm, the first tentative bird song of spring rising in the air above them.
They had their horses brought and rode homewards in the deepening dusk, some distance in front of their men to ensure they could talk freely. Ketil was furious. “Consult with her kin!” he blurted. “Horsepiss! She’s waiting to for the next bidders to enter the game, that’s what! She’s hoping to see the stakes increase, is setting herself up as a prize! Here I thought we were getting on nicely, and then she sends me packing like a common, unwanted, beggarly nobody! By Thor, you’d think I was thrall-born!”
Einnis sighed. “Don’t take on so, Ketil, don’t let all that mead you had speak for you. This went as well as could possibly be expected. It’s not surprising that she needs time to think, this is one of the most important decisions she’ll be making in life!” He looked to his brother and spoke in low, soothing tones. “I could easily see that you two get on and are suited for each other, - even if she wants to wait for other offers, I’m sure that will speak in your favor in the end!”
Ketil swung at him angrily. “You could see! You could see? You seemed to be sleeping! Where were you? You sat there like you were bored out of your mind, dozing at the table, she must have thought it most insulting! Tor be thanked that you can boast of Mjod as your future father-in-law, or else you would not be of much use at all!” He snorted. “Imagine if any unflattering rumor about you had reached her ears - you know what I mean - then it would have been all over for me!”
Einnis’s eyes flared for a moment, but he shrugged and rode on, not bothering to reply. Ketil rode next to him for a while, silently fuming, and then kicked his horse into a gallop. He left Einnis and their men behind, riding home at break-neck pace.
Continued in Part 2: http://gilli-ann.livejournal.com/39897.html