The Queen In The Mound (The Norsewomen Book 4) by Johanna Wittenberg

Author:Johanna Wittenberg [Wittenberg, Johanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Shellback Studio
Published: 2022-02-20T05:00:00+00:00

Back at camp, the apprentices clustered around the sleigh. They gently lifted their injured mistress out and carried her into her tent. Åsa climbed down, Halfdan clutched in her arms. The little boy wriggled out of her grasp and ran to the wolf, who swiped his huge, bloody tongue over the child’s hair.

Åsa wasn’t ready to let her son out of her sight. She picked him up and carried him to the völva’s tent. The wolf followed and lay down outside.

Heid lay on her camp bed, cradled with pillows and bundled in furs, her face paler than milk. The arrowhead and her bloody clothes lay discarded on the ground.

“She lives,” said Vigdis. “I need to get her warm.”

A brazier was lit inside the tent and Vigdis heated stones in it. When they were warm, she tucked them into the furs around her mistress. She set a small soapstone pot to boil. From her pouch she drew herbs and cast them into the boiling water.

While the brewing herbs filled the tent with a comforting aroma, the apprentices linked hands and began to sing a vardlokkur, beseeching the álfir and dísir to come to Heid’s aid.

When the concoction was ready, Vigdis cooled it with a handful of snow and dipped a clean linen cloth in the pot. The women kept singing as she gently pulled back the furs and washed Heid’s wound. The völva moaned and writhed but didn’t regain consciousness.

“The arrow doesn’t seem to have penetrated to her lung. We need to stay here tonight. My sisters and I will keep watch over her. In the morning we’ll see if it’s safe to move her.” Vigdis looked Åsa up and down. “There’s nothing more you can do here. You’re exhausted, Lady. You must rest.”

“Very well,” said Åsa, knowing Vigdis was right. Halfdan was already asleep in her arms. She rose and carried him outside. As she passed the cook fire, Olvir held out a bowl of stew. The scent made her knees weak, and she realized she hadn’t eaten all day.

Beside her, the blind wolf sniffed the air. “Some for the wolf, too,” she said, sitting down on a stump and accepting the bowl. When Olvir looked askance at the bloody maw, she said, “He saved Halfdan’s life.”

Olvir dished up a second bowl and set it down for the wolf. He sucked it up in one gulp and rooted around as if wondering where it had all gone.

Ragnhild appeared and Olvir dished up a bowl for her. She carried it off to Murchad. Their voices rose in a soft murmur.

Åsa was almost too tired to bring the spoon to her mouth. Halfdan roused at the scent of the stew and she fed him a few bites. At last she rose and carried him to her hudfat. The wolf followed. Åsa laid a pelt on the ground for him. He circled three times and lay down, curled up with his tail covering his nose.

In the morning, Heid was still unconscious and pale, but her breathing was more regular.

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