We followed them to the crossroads. That was as far as Skalpi wanted us to come, so we halted there, at the edge of the manor. He told us to be strong and to pray for victory, and his gaze found me in the crowd. I can still remember the look in his eyes. Until then it had never occurred to me that he might be just as anxious as me. As I said, it had always seemed to me that there was nothing in the world that frightened him, but I understood then how wrong I was. Maybe no one else noticed it, but I did – a look in his eyes, as if he wasn’t sure whether he would be coming back.
He must have realised what I saw, realised that he’d betrayed himself, because the blood rose to his cheeks. He tried to hide it by quickly turning away and raising a cry for King Eadgar, for Northumbria and for England. He rode to the head of the column, and then they were on their way. All the men waved as they went, calling out to their children and womenfolk, who waved in return, wishing them luck.
All the men, that was, except Skalpi. He didn’t falter or glance over his shoulder. Not once. Not even for a moment. I suppose he thought that if he looked back others might see what I had seen. It wasn’t that he was proud, or it wasn’t just that. He knew that men were looking to him as their leader, relying on him to give them encouragement and strength. More than anything, he needed their respect and their confidence. And so he just rode on, his gaze fixed on the track ahead. I watched as they grew further and further away, until they were dots amid the haze: dots that became pinpricks and then were no more.
He was gone.
It was weeks before we had any news. When we did, it was never much. Often it didn’t make sense, and we were never sure of the order in which things were supposed to have happened. A battle here, raiding and hall burnings there. The king of the Danes had supposedly sent a great fleet bearing thousands of warriors, which had entered the Humbre and sent messengers to Eadgar to seek an alliance with him. He’d accepted and together they had marched on Eoferwic and this time had burned it to the ground.
I know now that’s what happened, but at the time it all sounded so far-fetched we didn’t know what to make of it all. This was the first any of us knew about the Danes’ arrival, and we didn’t know whether it was a good thing or not. Besides, we had worries of our own: every week we heard stories of brigands and outlaws roaming the shire, taking advantage of the uncertainty to waylay travellers, to steal sheep and grain and whatever else they could lay their hands on, to extort silver with the threat of violence from stewards and village priests, who had no choice but to give them what they asked because their lords and protectors were away fighting. If they couldn’t pay or they refused, they were beaten or killed, and their homes torched.
And so we lived in fear. Fear for our own safety, and in my case fear for my family as well. We used to exchange letters every few weeks, but I’d heard nothing from them in months. I didn’t know if Eadmer had also gone to join the rebellion; he was still young and I didn’t like to think of him standing in the shield wall facing the Normans. I was desperate for the war to be over, and I didn’t care whether it was defeat or victory, as long as Skalpi came home safely, and soon. Where he was and what had happened to him, I didn’t know. If he’d sent us any messages, as I kept hoping he would, they never reached our ears.
In the meantime I looked after Ketil and did my best to keep him busy by teaching him his letters, although he was becoming more difficult as he grew older. More like his brother. He was a sackless boy, refusing to sit still for long, and was easily frustrated, but I persisted because I knew it was what Skalpi would want. When I wasn’t with him, I was helping ?lfric, doing my best to keep the manor running as it should, although the fact that so many of the younger men had gone away made the work more difficult, especially as the months passed and the harvest came round and we needed as many hands as possible to reap and sheaf and stook, to plant turnips and mow hay, to pull up leeks and onions and carrots from the vegetable garden behind Thorvald’s house. I was out there in the fields with them, with my sleeves bunched to my elbows, and my dress rolled up, helping where I—
Why is that funny? Do you think I spend so long at my weaving and my sewing that I don’t know how to use a scythe or flail or winnowing basket? I might not have seen as much of the world as some of you, and maybe I don’t have as many calluses and my face isn’t as weather-worn as yours, Beorn, but I know what it means to work hard.
As I was saying, the months passed and the seasons turned. It wasn’t until after the winter barley had been sown that we had the first news of the rebellion. The first proper news, I mean, because that’s when our men started coming back.
*
‘And was your husband among them?’ asks Guthred.
Merewyn shakes her head.
Tova knows this part of the story. Seeing them again after so many months, the joy that turned so quickly to anguish, as she and everyone else abandoned the pails they were carrying, the firewood they were chopping, the shovels they were using to clean out the groops, and rushed out to greet them, only to see how few they were.
Even now it hurts her to think about it. How Merewyn can talk about these things without faltering or breaking into tears, Tova has no idea.