CHAPTER TWELVE

 

As Donna marched towards Asa’s home, she fumed with anger. She could not believe him. Stubborn man! He had opened up to her, and she’d thought he’d changed, but at the first sign of trouble he’d reverted back to his default setting. And now he was pushing her away.

Fine.

If he thought she’d watch the men drive themselves to early graves and bring him food like an obedient little servant, he was an even bigger idiot than she’d thought.

Donna stopped before the door to Asa’s longhouse. The faint smell of woodsmoke reached her nose. Unlike in many of the other houses, Asa’s door had no gaps between the weathered planks. Floki had undoubtedly repaired them under Asa’s supervision. Donna felt guilty to wake her up, but if Sigurd wanted to act now, so would she.

Donna decided against knocking, no need to wake the whole household. She opened the door—marveling that the Norsemen did not even bother locking their homes—and stepped into the house without a sound. The embers of the long hearth glowed in the darkness, barely illuminating the silhouettes lying on benches that ran along the walls. People wheezed in their sleep, a couple of men snored like engines.

Donna found Asa curled together with Floki in the furthest corner of the room. She touched the woman’s shoulder, the linen of her shift warm under Donna’s fingertips. Asa jerked up, and her hand shot under her pillow, probably for a weapon.

“Asa, it’s Donna.”

She froze, her eyes squinting from sleep. “What is it?”

“I need your help.” Donna hesitated. Would she betray Sigurd if she told Asa the news of the attack? Everyone would know in a few hours anyway. And she needed to act. “Sigurd got a message from Vigdis. Fuldarr has gathered troops and is about to attack us.”

Asa’s hand covered her mouth. Floki sat up, his eyes wide, and Donna cursed herself for not asking Asa to go outside.

“Loki’s turd,” he whispered.

Donna nodded. “There’s no time to waste, but Sigurd won’t let the women help. We must build the fortress anyway.”

Floki’s face straightened. “Disobey the jarl, again? He will banish us from the village.”

Donna swallowed. Was she right to ask this of them?

“Yes. But if we do as he says, there will be no village to be banished from.”

Asa’s mouth curved. Floki held Donna’s gaze for a while, and she thought he’d contradict her again, but he said, “I will help you. You women need a foreman with experience. The jarl means well, but everyone can see that without more manpower we will all be dead.”

Donna squeezed his hand in gratitude. Apparently, not every Viking was as stubborn as Sigurd.

Floki continued, “We’ll build where the arch is. The jarl does not plan to construct there yet. It is a small enough space for us to manage on our own.”

The tension in Donna’s muscles, which she had not noticed before, released. She said, “We’ll just do it. Not in secret. But also not announcing it openly.”

Asa and Floki both gave curt nods.

Asa woke a few women from her household and explained the plan to them. Outside, the sun was rising, and its first rays warmed Donna’s cheeks. But the atmosphere in the village was somber, as if a cloud of fear cast dark shadows over everything. Together with Donna, they visited the women Asa trusted. Sigurd had already woken up many people—men had their quick breakfasts and walked to the construction sites, their faces stern, worry deep in their eyes.

They gathered a dozen women. Five more went to cut down trees in the forest. They started slowly, but after they got into the rhythm of cutting the logs, removing the branches, sharpening the edges and planting the stakes in the trench, the work went faster. The women started singing, altogether, a song that told the story of Brunhild, the legendary shield-maiden. The melody sounded primal and ancient, and after a while, Donna joined in, humming because she did not know the words. Floki’s voice droned in the background. Their song created a space, an invisible dome under which they were united, working as one. Donna had never felt this kind of connection in her own time and only wished Sigurd was here with them, singing.

To Donna’s astonishment, they’d already finished the palisade when night started to descend. It stood from both sides, attached to the rocks of the arch, and they were hanging the gate on hinges. Donna stood back to admire the work they had done together. Her muscles buzzed from exhaustion, her eyelids heavy. There was only one thing to do—fix the fallen rock of the stone arch itself.

Once the arch was whole again, would she really be able to go back anytime she wanted? The prospect of leaving Sigurd made Donna’s feet drag.

Floki and one of the taller women lifted Donna up on their shoulders so that she could fix the rock. Her hands shook—surely from exhaustion, she told herself. The stone fit as though it never had separated from the arch, and stayed as if glued. There weren’t even any cracks.

As the arch became whole, a feeling overcame Donna. She knew, just as she knew that the sun would rise tomorrow, that the arch was alive…and magical…and it would swallow her. She could feel it just like she could feel her own heartbeat.

Donna’s fingers dug into the shoulders on which she sat. Her skin prickled as if a net of razor blades covered her. Something sucked all breath from her lungs. “Put me down,” she whispered.

When her feet hit on the ground, she fell as if cut, and crawled as far away from the arch as possible. Arms embraced her from behind, and a feeling of safety wrapped around her like a warm shawl. “Shhh, you are safe,” Sigurd whispered in her ear, and she relaxed. “I won’t let you go yet.”

Donna breathed easier, the warmth of his arms around her calming her down. She slowly turned her head to look at him. His handsome face hung over her, their eyes locked, and everything else ceased to exist. He looked at her with concern.

“Are you mad?” Donna said.

Sigurd’s expression turned to one of lustful longing. He brushed her upper arm with his fingers, and Donna’s stomach fluttered. But then he broke eye contact and glared at the palisade, looking torn between relief and anger. He rose, and Donna stood up as well, her feet steadier now. Sigurd walked towards the newly constructed wall.

“All of you,” he growled. “You disobeyed the orders of your jarl. You knew there would be consequences.”

Donna’s skin chilled. Was he about to punish them?

Sigurd stood right by the palisade and inspected it closely, his hand brushing along the wall. He opened and closed the gate and glanced up at the stone arch. His head turned to Floki.

“And you, Floki, you helped—”

“Jarl,” Floki interrupted, “I disagree. The women should help. I supervised them, and I tell you, there is no fault in this palisade. It will stand and protect. The work here is done—only thing left is to bar the gate.”

Sigurd’s mouth curved down in anger. “If we were not under the greatest threat to our existence, I would have you all banished from the village.” He scowled at Donna. “Let me guess, you initiated this?”

Donna’s chin rose. “Yes. If you need to punish someone, punish me.” An unwanted thrill went through Donna at the thought of how he might do that, but she chased it away. “We will continue building, though, whether you want it or not. Just look.” She gestured towards the palisade. “Is this not helpful? Did it not make you feel a little easier to see this part of the fortress finished?”

Sigurd crossed his arms on his chest and opened his mouth to speak when a shout made their heads turn.

“Jarl!” A boy not older than twelve ran on the path. “Hurry! There’s been an accident.”

Sigurd’s face lost its color, and he ran after the boy. Donna and the rest followed him. It was now almost dark. The indigo sky glowed with gold behind the mountains to the west. When they arrived at the construction site by the beach, some men still worked, but a dozen or so stood in a circle leaning over someone.

Sigurd was already kneeling beside the figure, and as Donna came closer, she saw a man lying on the ground and clawing at his leg. His ankle was twisted in an unnatural way, and Donna felt sick.

One of the men explained, “We set the stake in the wrong place because of the darkness, and it fell. Normally, we would have held it, but honestly, lord, we don’t have much strength left.”

Asa leaned over the man. “I can set the bone, but—”

“But what?” Sigurd growled.

She shot him a quick glance. “Injuries like this… I don’t know if the bone will heal properly.”

Sigurd froze, his face an expressionless mask. “Will he be a cripple?”

Donna shut her eyes, fear slipping down her spine like an icicle.

Asa looked at the broken ankle from different angles. “I don’t know yet.”

“But he might be?”

“He might.”

Donna’s hand automatically landed on Sigurd’s shoulder. The guilt was probably killing him.

She glanced back at the palisade. Fires illuminated small parts of it, but it was mostly dark, and Donna wondered how the men could do any work at all. The fortress had advanced since Donna had seen it last night, but looking at what remained to be built, the progress seemed heartbreakingly slow. Knocks of hammers and sharp shouts of commands and insults filled the air. But the insults did not sound like friendly men’s banter. They were full of spite. This was so different from the arch construction site, when the women and Floki had sung in unison.

Asa asked the men to carry the injured man in her house and went with them. Sigurd followed them with a haunted look on his face, then turned back to the men. “Stop the construction!” he roared. “Go home, rest. Come back tomorrow as agreed with the first light.”

The men laid whatever they were holding on the ground, got down from the towers and walked back home with tired looks on their faces.

Sigurd stood silent and immobile, his hands propped on his hips, studying the ground.

“Sigurd—” Donna said as softly as she could, but he interrupted her.

“I know. Allow the women to build.”

He met her gaze, and his face was distorted with an inner struggle. Oh, her brave, lovely, strong warrior. The injury to that man must be torturing him. He could have stopped the work sooner. He could have already employed the women’s help. And while it was all true, Donna didn’t blame him. And she hoped he wouldn’t blame himself, although she was certain he would.

“I will,” he said, his voice cracking. Relief flooded Donna’s body. She rushed to him and hugged him. His arms engulfed her and pressed her tight to him. Warmth spread through her chest as if he’d just lit a candle in the middle of her heart.

And for the first time since she’d arrived, hope bloomed in Donna.