"Saga" - Chapter 22, Part 1
Content - Saga is a Brokeback AuAu fic taking place in the Viking era (Scandinavia, ca AD 850). This chapter rated PG-13 and 5,500 words long.
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 to Soulan for betaing this chapter!
Links to all previous chapters are available here: http://gilli-ann.livejournal.com/43336.html
Saga - Chapter 22
After Ketil’s funeral ale Arna remained at the main farm. The advanced pregnancy was taking its toll on her, and she gratefully left many of the mistress’s daily duties in Ragnhild’s capable hands. Ragnhild for her part promised to stay on till after the new heir had been born, but thereafter wanted to leave and return to her kin in the south. Her stay in the valley had already lasted much longer than she’d anticipated.
Einnis rode back to Einstad, leaving the clan’s seat to Ragnhild and Arna to manage between them with the help of Svein. After all, the routines on the family’s ancient farmstead were well rehearsed and known by all, whether it came to taking out the manure, ploughing, sowing or seeing to the lambing and calving. At Einstad on the other hand, there were countless decisions to be made concerning the activities on the farm and in the fields as it entered its first season of cultivation. Every task had to be established and overseen, responsibilities distributed, and difficulties dealt with as they arose.
Arna’s servant woman, who had taken over the keys at Einstad, managed the daily food preparation and processing, and some weaving on the side. But there was no doubt that the Einstad household was limping along without an experienced mistress to manage the indoor activities. As for the out-of-doors, Einnis had to be there. He worked long days doing all he could to ensure his new farm would prosper, and fell into bed alone at night, sleeping like a log.
In the early morning hours he would sometimes wake with a small smile of remembered joy and a wet spot on his blanket. Other times he would stretch and lie spread-eagled for a moment, reminding himself through his body’s movements that he was alone, and then reach one hand down to bring himself to completion with quick strong pulls on his rigid member. Biting his lip, he’d keep his eyes firmly shut and in addition closely covered with his left hand, as if to forcibly keep the secrets of his mind and memory inside his head, hidden from the light of day.
---
Einnis had planned on returning back home well before the day that Arna believed herself due, but their child was in a hurry and came two full weeks early. A messenger rode into the Einstad yard one afternoon in early summer, bringing Einnis the news that Arna was in labor. Einnis threw himself on his horse to return home as fast as he could. The tracks were dry now and covered with flowers and green summer grass, and he sped southwards as rapidly as the horse would go. Nevertheless he was too late.
Ragnhild came out to meet him as soon as he dismounted in the yard. She looked weary and disheveled, but wore a big smile.
“Congratulations, Einnis Eldhug. You have a fine and healthy daughter. Arna had a hard time of it, now she’s just fallen asleep. She was brave and strong throughout. You’ve got a good wife, a woman to be proud of.”
Einnis thanked her, smiling widely, and in spite of his eagerness he took time to change his sweaty tunic and wash himself before tip-toeing into the room where Arna and the babe slept. Several lamps were burning in the room, and a big knife glinted from the wall above Arna’s bed. One of Arna’s women sat to the side, watching over mother and child this first important day in the baby’s life. Einnis nodded in her direction and stepped over to look down on his two sleeping girls. The scrunched-up red little face of his daughter immediately drew his attention, and he let a fingertip touch her tiny cheek for a moment, tenderness suffusing his entire being and making him smile with delight as he looked at her in wonder.
Arna was sleeping soundly, her sweat-drenched hair tied into a loose braid. She had angry marks on her lower lip as if she’d bitten into it, and there were large dark smudges under her closed eyes. Einnis sat for a while on the bench next to her, gently stroking her hand that rested limply on the cover, and then went back to the hall.
The whole farm greeted him with a cheer as he entered, and several men thumped his back. Einnis smiled at the commotion and walked over to the High Seat with a spring in his step.
“The best ale for all tonight!” he called out. The declaration was met with a roar of approval.
---
The next day he once more sat in the High Seat and looked down on the naked baby as Ragnhild ceremonially placed her tiny form in his lap.
“Now receive your daughter, Einnis Elmarson,” she said formally, and stepped back.
Einnis looked down on the defenseless little being, holding her with one strong but gentle hand as she writhed and mewled like a kitten. He hastened to pour the waiting water over her. Though it had been warmed and was lukewarm, it made her cry louder.
“This is my daughter, and her name is Arna….”
Gasps could be heard through the entire hall, and he quickly continued. “She is being named for her kinswoman and great-grandmother, my father-in-law Mjod’s mother Arna Finnsdottir, who lived a long life with much luck.”
He paused then lifted a golden object from the bench. “As her name-giving gift she shall have this pendant, which her mother will guard for our daughter till she can wear it in good health herself.”
There was a rustling sound as everyone sat back down, relieved. For a moment it had sounded as if she was being named for her own mother, and such a thing was unheard of. Naming a child for a living person tied a knot in the clan that would end it, as everyone knew - it would wither and die. No-one who was still alive could live again in a newborn child. It was against the very order of life and death. Satisfied now that all was being done according to custom the farm’s people muttered forth their wishes for good health, long life and the gods’ protection for the little girl.
When little Arna had been brought back to her mother and the feast was at an end, Einnis stepped into the room and greeted his wife warmly, smiling as he held her tight and thanking her for the gift of their fine daughter. Arna was sitting up against the wall, supported by many down pillows at her back, and had just finished an attempt at nursing the babe. She sighed.
“I know how much you surely wanted a son, Einnis. So did I. But we will have more children, and our little girl is a good start. Isn’t she perfect? They told me who you named her for. I was surprised.”
Einnis gestured self-deprecatingly. “I wanted to give her every advantage, and to name her after someone who was nothing but lucky in life. Your mother died in childbirth, and mine drowned. But Mjod’s mother lived a rich life, and a long one, and had many children and grandchildren. I hope for the same for our little Arna.”
Arna leaned her head tiredly back against the pillows and closed her eyes, the swaddled baby resting on her lap.
“That’s good….”
The woman who had been trusted with waking over mother and child stepped over and picked up the baby, carefully holding it against herself before leaning down to place the little one safely in her snug cradle, an heirloom at the farm. Its headboard showed dragon shapes glaring out towards either side of the room, warning malevolent forces to stay far away from the newest little clan member.
Einnis looked at the tiny form with happy eyes, but spoke to Arna. “You rest now. I’ll be back in the morning, and I suppose you should expect the first visitors with Norns’ porridge arriving then too. We have a beautiful daughter, Arna. I could wish for no more.”
---
The next day dawned bright and fair, and Einnis had been right in his prediction. Even before noon the first neighboring farm’s mistress rode into the yard with a small retinue, bringing along the specially prepared porridge that served as both as recognition of mother and child, and as an offering of thank you to the Norns on behalf of the newborn.
Arna had groomed and washed herself with the help of her women, and was sitting up in bed, dressed in a new tunic and with a bright shawl over her shoulders, a loose coif covering the back of her head, and her tripartite brooch glinting at her throat. Little-Arna lay in her lap as the woman was let into her room. They shared some porridge while the visitor admired and praised the baby and commiserated with Arna over the trials of childbirth.
Several such visits took place during the day, and since Arna was able to nap in-between, she received all the visiting farm mistresses and greeted them politely and gladly, very conscious that these were her peers with whom she needed to be on a friendly standing in her new life as mistress of one of the main farms in the valley.
In the early afternoon Helga Hauksdottir arrived with her offering of Norn’s porridge. She was after all the mistress of one of the largest neighboring farms, and her failing to provide the traditional gift of food could only have been considered a sign of open hostility, though she might have decided to send one of her women over with the large painted bowl. Upon arrival she calmly and politely offered her congratulations and asked to see and greet the mother and baby, but Arna sent word from her room that she was weary and in pain and unable to receive anyone. Ragnhild therefore accepted the Norn’s porridge on the farm’s behalf, and briefly and neutrally thanked Helga for her good wishes and the trouble she’d gone to in preparing and bringing the dish.
Helga considered her words and slowly looked around the farmyard, studying the people and houses for a moment before nodding her understanding gracefully. Once more she offered her wishes of health and long life for the newborn, and then excused herself. Her face set in a calm but inscrutable expression and her head held high, she re-mounted her horse and cantered proudly out of the yard, the farm’s many eyes following her until she passed from sight.
In the evening as Einnis was sitting with Arna, watching her struggling to nurse their daughter before helping her place the babe back in the cradle. He asked her then why she hadn’t received Helga. Arna looked up sharply, the sudden look of displeasure on her tired face very much at odds with the tender way she had just cradled her daughter against herself.
“The woman who caused your brother and my kinsman’s untimely death, who has harmed the clan like few others, did you really want her to lay her cold eyes on your newborn daughter?”
“We do have to find a way forward and to live together peacefully here in the valley,” Einnis said cautiously, looking surprised at the normally so calm Arna’s heated outburst.
Arna snorted derisively. “That one - too high and mighty by half. You’d think she was Gyda Eiriksdottir herself, the way she carries on. Stringing your brother along…. you heard yourself what he said of her!”
Einnis looked down uncomfortably. “There is more to be said about his dealings with her, and two sides to the story. Helga is not much to blame for Ketil’s fate, I think. Ketil admitted as much himself, the last day he lived. He acted with scarce honor where she was concerned.”
“Einnis!” Arna gasped, alarmed. “Do not speak ill of the dead!”
“No, no, I won’t. I’ll say no more,” Einnis hastily replied. “But neither do I think a feud with Helga is warranted. And as for Ulv, when she marries him….”
“Would you sit by and do nothing when your brother’s bane moves in next door and starts flaunting his enjoyment of what Ketil was denied? That man, who mocked your brother beyond all endurance?”
“Ketil agreed to the terms of the Holmgang. I believe I am honoring his decision in accepting the outcome of the fight,” Einnis said, his voice low. “And though I would rather see Ulv move far away instead of closer to us, I do not think Ketil would want to cause Helga more grief. In fact, I know he wouldn’t.”
Arna shook her head, blood rising into her cheeks. “Helga, Helga…. I think she must secretly be a volva, the way she beguiles all men!”
Einnis looked at her in wonder. “You yourself cautioned me that I shouldn’t get embroiled in my brother’s fight, should remember that our child needed a father who was alive and well,” he pointed out.
“Yes, little-Arna needs you and so do I - we need you to live respected and with honor, Einnis. We need to know that you will stand up for us and for the clan’s interests, and not back down humbly to have peace at any cost. I fear that in this matter people will say you count the clan’s dignity and pride at very little worth.”
“It will be as I have decided,” Einnis said firmly, his eyes narrowing. “Unless Ulv is unwise enough to stir up further unrest or enmity between us, either through word or deed, I intend to pay Ketil’s dues and let the matter rest.”
Arna glared at him. “As you wish and command, husband mine. I will not speak of it again.”
Einnis opened his mouth to reply, but Arna closed her eyes and quickly overrode him, her drawn face pale now except for the angry red spots on her cheekbones. “I need my rest, I am very weary. I must sleep. Please leave us.”
Einnis sat there staring at her for a moment, then rose, stopped to look down into the cradle, and silently left the room.
---
Gunnar Gavlpryd was much praised for the magnificent High Seat poles he’d carved, and he and Eoin were well rewarded for their work. They returned to Kaupang pleased with the achievement, but also happy to be back home and to step in through their own door at last. Muirenn greeted them warmly, equally eager to move back to the little house where she was her own mistress and wouldn’t have to live on the sufferance of Torgeirr’s great-aunt.
She looked at Eoin with equanimity, wordlessly signaling that she was ready to let bygones be bygones. He hugged her and smiled, before taking Sverri from her arms.
“Little one, how are you?” He lifted the boy into the air and watched Sverri’s happy face as the toddler squealed with glee.
“Now look, how you’ve grown, big man! And you’ve got teeth too!”
“So he has,” Muirenn said. “His teething hasn’t been a joy to live through, I can assure you. And there’s more to come, so you won’t miss out on all of it.”
The boy meanwhile turned restless and writhed in Eoin’s grip, wailing in irritation. Muirenn rolled her eyes at her son. “He’s looking for Sleipner. I think you could no less separate the two of them than a saint from his halo.”
Eoin laughed and put the boy down on the blanket on the floor where the eight-legged horse was waiting for its owner. “There you go, little one. You’ve inherited your mother’s temper, it seems!”
Muirenn rolled her eyes again, this time at Eoin, but she was smiling.
With that the two men settled comfortably back in Gunnar’s house. The next assignment was the carving of a ceremonial wagon for one of the local hovs. They could finish the separate pieces in Gunnar’s own workshop, and work on several smaller pieces besides, sleigh decorations, tent poles, even toys for the market.
Though they made some few trips out of Kaupang to deliver and assemble larger carved pieces, mostly they stayed in town and witnessed how Kaupang came alive again. The first trade ships of the season sailed to shore, the storehouses were filling up, traders set up their stalls, the ale halls opened for business, and long-ships were being tarred and overseen along the beaches outside of town. New ships would also take shape in the building berths, and Gunnar had been hired to carve the stem and prow decorations for one local lord’s new long-ship, a vessel with elegant lines and majestically sweeping dimensions. The carving of such a ship was an honor, and would take him the larger part of the summer to complete.
Ragnvald Arason Ratatoskr arrived in Kaupang like he’d said, to stay there for the trade season. Eoin sometimes saw him at the wharf or walking to the ale hall, but didn’t speak to him until one evening when he bumped into the man on the track leading from the market. Ragnvald greeted Eoin with a wide smile and a gleam in his eyes, proving as talkative as ever as he turned to introduce the Irishman to his two warrior companions. He insisted that Eoin join them in the ale hall, and all four of them sat together sharing draughts of ale for a while, talking about the trading and the news from around Kaupang and from the king’s recent battles. Eoin enjoyed himself more than he’d have expected, but after some time excused himself and left without having spoken one word with Ragnvald alone.
Continued in Chapter 22, Part 2: http://gilli-ann.livejournal.com/45535.html