Chapter Twenty-Nine
EINER RAN OUT after Hilda, mud splashing up his trousers The forest wrapped around him and shut out the little light from camp.
‘Hilda!’ If only she would let him catch up. She was fast, and the tight forest made it impossible to see anything. The sun had already set.
‘Hilda! Where are you?’
The cold wind was blowing through the forest and the hoot of an owl answered his call, but Hilda did not. He ran faster, hoping at the very least to catch another glimpse of her so he knew he was on the right path. The forest was too dark; he would not see her unless she stood right in front of him.
Convinced that his attempt to catch up was futile, Einer stopped running. Perhaps if he stayed quiet he might hear her horse. Sounds of running water and the creak of rope tightening around wood; he was nearby the river where their ships were docked. He heard a horse mark its place. Leaves scurried at the bottom of the forest, rising around his feet. Einer turned around, and there she was.
‘Don’t follow me. I’m done here.’ Hilda had unmounted from the horse and her skin was so pale it almost shone in the dark.
Her eyes weren’t blue as they were supposed to be. They shone like embers.
‘Where are you going?’ His heart was gripped with fear. She had only just arrived.
‘That doesn’t concern you.’
His heart caught in his throat. ‘Are you really leaving?’
She didn’t hesitate. ‘Ja.’
Some warriors laughed in the distance and the wind increased in force, swallowing their voices, and Einer could not think of a single thing to say to convince her to stay, and not leave him.
‘I’ll talk to my father again. I’ll make him agree to let you come,’ he said, trying to keep his cool, although his hands shook from the thought that she might leave. ‘It wasn’t right.’
The wind calmed. The sounds of laughter returned, and Hilda stared out towards the warriors, refusing to look at Einer. ‘I don’t want to be allowed to come,’ she said.
Einer did not know what to do. ‘Then, what do you want, Hilda?’
She took a deep breath, and they were both so quiet, and the warriors in the distance too, that although two arm-lengths separated them, Einer felt as if her words were whispered into his ear. ‘I want to find my place,’ she said. ‘To earn it.’
‘You will. I’ll talk to my father again. I’ll convince him. Whatever it takes.’ He meant it. Even if it meant single combat, he would demand that Hilda was allowed to fill her rightful place as a raider. ‘No matter what.’
He couldn’t let her leave like this, bloodied and hurt. The wind rose around them both. Blood from Hilda’s eyes dripped onto the chainmail.
‘Don’t go. You’re hurt.’
Hilda released a deep breath. ‘You won’t make your father change his mind.’ Then she gazed up at him with an expression that made it feel as though the nine worlds were empty and there was only the two of them.
Einer wanted to tell her that he would do anything for her and if she asked him to challenge his father to a duel to the death then he would comply. He would do anything for her. But Hilda already knew that, and she did not want his help, so he muttered the last thing he could think to say. ‘I don’t want you to leave, Hilda.’
They gazed at each other as they had not done in winters and winters; not since their second night together, before Einer’s first raid. Her eyes were nothing like they had used to be. It was as if they had been wrenched out and replaced with burning embers. Hilda did not frown at him, as she usually did; and she did not find an excuse to divert her gaze or get angry with him, as he had expected. She matched his stare for a long while, and it felt like this was the first time in winters that they had understood each other without needing to speak.
They both knew she had to leave, or Einer’s father would never understand how serious she was about the warrior path. If she left, he would realise that Ragnar would sooner have allowed Hilda to fight with the warriors from Ash-hill than leave them to fight without guidance.
That night, summers ago, they had talked about leaving together, her and Einer, to join crews elsewhere, but then Einer had joined the warriors of Ash-hill and they had both been so certain that Hilda would soon be accepted into their ranks as well. She had tried to leave back then too, he remembered, when she had first been refused, but he had stopped her then, as he was stopping her now, with promises about how they were supposed to raid together and how he could convince his father.
Hilda broke their long gaze. ‘I should have left the first time,’ she mumbled. The wind caressed her hair and the chain clinked at her side.
‘I’m glad you didn’t,’ he told her, smiling at the thought of their first night together. ‘I just wish we could go back to that time—’
‘We can’t,’ Hilda interrupted, as she always did. Einer knew better than anyone that Hilda rarely listened to her heart, and perhaps, deep down, she did not love him as much as he hoped; as much as he loved her.
‘I loved you before that night,’ Einer admitted. ‘But after that, I knew it had to be you.’
Einer could see from the curl of her lips that she was about to retort with one of her snappy remarks, that she would dismiss everything he had said, but he continued to speak and did not let her have the word as he usually did. ‘Whatever it takes. To marry you is all I’ve ever wanted.’
Hilda’s expression hardened. She was used to him giving her the word when she wanted it. ‘Just because we had sex once doesn’t mean we have to marry,’ she snarled.
‘Twice,’ he corrected despite himself, and despite how angry it made her.
He waited for her to acknowledge it. The chain clinked from the blow of the wind and leaves were cast around them as they stood and stared at each other, like a deadly duel without swords.
If she did not love him in the way he loved her, then they were not meant to be, although Einer could not help but hold onto the belief that she did love him.
‘It doesn’t matter if it was once or twice,’ Hilda finally said.
‘To me it does.’ He would not let her dismiss him again, not tonight. ‘Those nights meant something to me. I thought they meant something for you too.’
Again, she was about to retort, but something stopped her.
Einer knew that he was asking too much of Hilda, asking her to listen to her own emotions and put her pride aside. He knew, but he had to ask. If she left, he knew she would never come back. They had once planned their escape together. He knew her.
‘Stay,’ he asked of her. ‘Let me talk to my father. Come with us. This is your fight.’
The expression on Hilda’s face was one he had never seen before.
‘Do you know what I’ve been through?’ she hissed. ‘Not just the battle, but everything since.’ She blinked her eyes furiously. ‘And despite the odds. Despite the gods, I made it all the way here. On my own. And then your father dismisses me like that, and all you worry about is marriage?’
‘Forgive, I never intended to tell you like this,’ he blurted, and he felt that he was losing her. ‘But I want us to be like we used to be. Especially with everything that has happened. You need me, and I need you,’ he said at last.
‘I don’t need anyone,’ Hilda said almost without thinking, as if she had said it a thousand times before, and she had. ‘I don’t need anyone.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ Einer had never been this honest with her before. For a moment, he had forgotten how she always contradicted anything she thought made her appear weak. ‘Let’s figure this out together. I love you, Hilda.’
His breath caught in his throat. His dilated eyes were fixed on Hilda and he did not dare move them. His entire being quivered, his hands trembled and his lips were suddenly dry.
For four full breaths, Hilda’s bloodied ember eyes examined him, as if she were trying to find a reason to believe him. He held her gaze, smiled as best as he could, despite how nervous he felt, and gave her every reason to trust him. Finally he had said the words. Finally she knew for certain how he felt and why he always took her side and wanted her safe. His palms were sweaty from it all.
Hilda broke the stare, and walked away from him, dragging her horse along. As if he had said nothing at all.
‘I always have loved you,’ Einer said, wanting to say it all now that he had begun. He attempted to stay calm, although his heart pounded so loud that he thought all of Midgard could hear, and was equally terrified that his chest might burst. ‘Let me help.’
‘I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help,’ she said.
Einer took a deep breath. This was more complicated than he had thought. Whenever they were together nothing ever happened as it was supposed to, and Einer could not say anything that did not make her angry with him. He knew a lot of it was because he was the only family Hilda had, apart from her father. Since Ragnar had fallen ill, she could no longer be angry with him. So, whenever she had wanted to yell at her father, she had yelled at Einer instead.
‘I don’t have time for this,’ Hilda sighed and mounted the horse.
‘Wait, let me come, Hilda,’ he said, before she could leave. He was saying all the wrong things and he did not know what the right things were anymore. ‘Let me come with you.’
She bit her lower lip, considering it. ‘You can’t leave,’ she decreed, and her harsh tone seemed to surprise even her. ‘You have a ship. Responsibilities. Your father wouldn’t allow it.’
‘He’s not the one I’m asking.’ Einer knew there was nothing right for him to say. No matter what he said and how he phrased it, Hilda would find a way to twist his words around and pit him against her. ‘You’re everything to me.’
Hilda said nothing.
‘At least tell me where you’re going,’ he pleaded.
‘Wherever the wind takes me.’ She smiled, as if it were a joke, but there was more to it than that. Hilda had a plan, or she would not be in such a hurry to leave.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked again, but she ignored him and pressed her lips harder together. ‘Hilda, you have to tell me.’
‘Why?’ she asked. ‘Why should I tell you?’
‘So I can find you.’
‘You won’t need to find me,’ she said. ‘Not where I’m going.’ Before he could say anymore, or before she could, Hilda turned on her heels and, as quick as the wind, she was gone again.
After a moment, he heard the sound of her horse gallop away.