Jorvik by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781788636223
Publisher: Canelo Books
Published: 2019-05-22T00:00:00+00:00

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Sigurd was not to hear of the incident from either party: Estorhild did not speak to him at all when he came home for supper and Una had no wish to spoil a pleasant evening when he came to see her later. The evening was not to remain pleasant. Sigurd had made love to her and had gone home, and Una was about to close her eyes when out of the blue she was visited by the dreadful power she had thought to have escaped, so long had it been since her last vision. The things she saw were so horrible that she cried out, bringing Murtagh running. Transfixed, she was not even conscious of his presence as he shook her in fear. When the vision cleared the terror remained in her eyes. At long last she was imbued with the truth of how her freedom was to come.

She saw her distressed child then and clutched him to her. Her instincts were to run, but there was no use running. Neither was there ought to be gained from warning the other participants. She knew of old that there was nothing she could do to avert the terrible consequences.

She did not sleep that night but lay cuddling her son’s thin body. At first light she went to the church of St Cuthbert where she prayed for courage. Afterwards she went home and waited for Murtagh to awake, never once letting him out of her sight. The day was long.

Black Mary could not have guessed that her aim would be achieved so easily. The child wandered voluntarily to her own destruction. Sigurd had as usual risen early and had gone to attend his duties before breakfast. Ragnhild was yet a-bed. Estorhild, still bereaved over the loss of her unborn son, was weaving, her mind far away; to all intents and purposes, Gytha was playing by the doorway.

With no one to check her adventurous spirit, the child wandered around the enclosure. Most of the slaves were occupied indoors cooking breakfast or away in the fields. Black Mary, feeding the hens, was the only one about when Gytha came up, pointed at the fowl and said, ‘I will do that.’

Without a word, Mary gave the child the pot of grain and supervised her clumsy attempts to feed the hens. Still no one came. Mary’s heart began to thump. She crossed herself. Oh, Lord grant me the courage to do it! Any moment now the tranquil garth could be transformed into a marketplace. What if someone were to see her leading Gytha away? But who would suspect – everyone loved the golden-haired child, did they not? What onlooker, if onlooker there be, would imagine that Mary could be intent on harm?

She bent low over the golden head, keeping her eyes peeled for danger. ‘I have a cake for ye. Will ye come with me to have it?’

Immediately, the child dropped the bowl, grasped the woman’s hand and allowed herself to be led away. Still no one came.

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