Beyond a Darkened Shore(85)
I glanced up at Leif, this man I was so drawn to and yet knew so little about. An answering excitement bubbled up within me at the thought that maybe I would have the chance to learn more about him.
The men rowed our longship to one side of the quay, the knarr on the other. The three remaining longships were rowed all the way to the shore, where their shallow hulls breached. As soon as the ships were secured, men streamed off, eager to see the loved ones they’d left behind. The bloodthirsty warriors I’d come to know transformed into loving husbands and fathers; even the most fearsome of them were surrounded by laughing children. Here they were not dragons, only ordinary family men.
Sigtrygg’s men were nearly indistinguishable from the Northmen. All were equally filthy, for one thing. The sea had not been kind. But I also heard many speaking in the Northmen’s own language, conversing as easily as warriors who have fought battles together would do. The close confines of the ship had done much for bringing us all together.
Arin greeted a young girl about his age, both shyly smiling at each other, but clearly thrilled to be reunited. Leif slipped an arm around me, a relaxed smile on his face. He didn’t seem to be looking for anyone in the crowd, only relieved to be home. Again I wondered at his life before we met. Had it been a lonely one?
Then a slim woman approached us, and I stiffened in surprise. Perhaps I had been wrong to assume he had left no one behind.
“Leif,” she said, “I thank the gods you have returned. Shall I prepare a feast in celebration?”
Something in me relaxed as I translated the Norse words. A servant, then.
“Thank you, Zinna,” he said. “Tomorrow night we will feast, and we’ve returned with food to replenish the larders. We must give our allies time to arrive. But why has my father not come to greet us?”
A shadow passed over her face, and she bowed her head. “He has been unwell these past few weeks and mostly stays confined to his room. He’s been looking forward to your return, though, and reserving his strength for the feast.”
A muscle in Leif’s jaw flexed. “I’ll go to him as soon as we are settled.”
Zinna’s almond-shaped eyes shifted to my face, but she did not voice her silent question. Leif caught her questioning look. “This is Ciara, Queen of Dyflin and Princess of Mide. Let everyone know her commands are to be followed as if I had given them myself.”
Zinna nodded. “Of course. Welcome, Queen Ciara.”
Some of the gaiety of the crowd dimmed when they caught sight of my undead army, remaining on board the ships. They glanced at one another and murmured, clearly unnerved by what they saw. “These are men of Hel,” they said to one another.
One of the men unloaded Abrax and Sleipnir, and the sight of the black stallion with red eyes nearly silenced the crowd. Some of the women cried out, and I heard the same name repeated over and over: Helhest.
I turned to Leif, my brows knitted in concern and question. “Helhest is the steed of Hel, and is said to be a plague-bringer,” he said. “Hel is a daughter of Loki, and she maintains the realm of the dead.” To his people, he raised his hands. “There is nothing to fear from these warriors and this horse. They are our allies, sworn to defend us against the j?tnar.”
His words had a calming effect, but still, many shot distrustful glances toward the ships and my horse.
Leif smiled, his mood lighter than I’d ever seen it. “Come, it’s time to show you my home.”
“I will follow you anywhere as long as there is a bath at the end of it.”
He laughed. “Did the rainstorm not count?”
I shook my head as I smiled back at him. “Even if it did, that was a week ago.”
“I’m sure we can find something for you to bathe in.” His gaze held mine for a moment—a promise of things to come—and my stomach fluttered.
Though the majority of the villagers were down by the ships, I could tell the village was as busy as any city. We passed a blacksmith forge, horseshoes and weapons upon the walls in place of a sign; stray chickens and pens of sheep and goats; a stable for the horses; various shops with pottery and baskets; and everywhere, wooden shields and iron axes.
We stopped at the base of stairs leading up to a longhouse. Shields bearing Leif’s insignia hung from the wooden planks. “This is the great hall,” he said, and continued through the door.
Once inside, I paused as I took in the massive room. The ceiling soared above us, while the room itself seemed big enough for one hundred men. Upon every wall was some symbol of death: antlers, skulls, weapons, shields, Leif’s dragon insignia. Even so, the objects were arranged in such a way that there was a wild beauty to them. The smell of smoke wafted over to me from a large fire pit in the middle of the floor. The hall was as dim as a tavern.
On one side of the room sat a dais covered in skins and furs instead of rugs. Two large chairs, their backs and arms made of antlers, waited. Leif stared at them, his lips slightly parted as though surprised.
“Your father had the other made for you,” Zinna said, coming up behind us.
He paused as though taken aback, darting a look toward Zinna that was fraught with confusion and concern. “Has he been so unwell that he hasn’t been able to hear the needs of the village?”
She averted her eyes. “He has made do, but I know he has looked forward to your arrival.”