It can happen so quickly. A sniffle that becomes a sneeze, a tickle that becomes a cough, a shiver that becomes a sweat. Soon a fever, and after that? The rest is in God’s hands.
That was how it went with her mother. She was still young at the time, not yet even thirty, and easily as strong as any man. All that counted for nothing, though. Christmas hadn’t long passed, Tova remembers, when she woke that morning to find her mother groaning as she lay in her bed, her throat so dry and swollen that it was painful to swallow, and barely able to stand because all her limbs were aching and because, when she tried, it made her dizzy. At once Tova went to fetch Eda, who as well as ale also knew how to prepare remedies to treat all manner of illnesses. She came with her herbs and her poultices, and spent many hours mixing up ointments and pastes and rubbing them into the places where it hurt the most. When none of those things eased her suffering, Eda even sent word to the next village, where her sister lived, asking her to come and help if she could, which she did that very same day, though none of her preparations did any good either.
Every day after that, her mother grew weaker. Along with the fever came bouts of sickness and the skitters. She couldn’t take any proper food; the only thing she could keep down was a watered-down broth of mashed carrot and barley, and sometimes not even that.
Tova realised then that the end was close, although that didn’t stop her praying, hoping, wishing, pleading for a miracle to be sent. Eventually, after four days and nights, an hour or so before first light on the eve of the Epiphany, her mother breathed her last breath and left this world.
Left Tova, alone.
Enough, she tells herself. She has seen enough sadness and suffering already today. If she dwells any longer on such things she’ll only become lost in her own grief. Besides, it was all so long ago. What’s past is past. Some day she’ll see her mother again. For now, though, she has to put those memories from her head.
She shifts closer to the fire. It isn’t anything like the kind they used to have in the great hearth back at home, the logs stacked so deep that the flames would burn yellow-bright, that its heat could be felt even from the far end of the hall, that even in the morning when she came in to clear out the hearth and sweep up the ashes, they’d still be hot. But it’s better than nothing. Merewyn kneels beside it, keeping it fed with wood, while Guthred idly stirs the iron pot hanging from a spit over the flames, to which they’ve added a few thin parsnips and beans and pieces of bread.
Her stomach growls. It feels like weeks since she last had hot food inside her, even though it’s only been two days.
Gunnhild, who was like a mother to Tova after hers died that winter, always did say she was too thin. She was forever trying to get her to eat more. You never knew how long God’s bounty would last, she said; it was important to have your fill when you could, since leaner times were rarely far away.
Where are Gunnhild and Ase now? Are they even still alive? It’s been a long time since she thought about them too. Now that she has, she wishes she hasn’t.
Stop it, she chides herself. You have to try to keep your spirits up.
She closes her eyes and remembers sitting with Ase, Gunnhild’s daughter, by the hearth in the kitchen where they sometimes come to sleep because it’s always warm there.
It’s long after dark, and the embers are darkening as she and Ase, the same age as her and the closest thing she has to a sister, play with the t?fl pieces by candlelight. They know they’re supposed to be in bed, not spending the night hours on games when they should be sleeping, but that’s part of the fun. They don’t know the rules since it’s only ever the men who play, and so they make up their own, taking it in turns to move the carved antler and jet counters across the board, each trying to be the one who gets all their counters to the other side first. To each piece they give a name, usually of someone they know.
That one’s Lord Skalpi, says Ase, because he’s bigger and rounder than the rest.