“I meant we should take one with Gunnhild. Why not fulfill the prophecy right here by binding ourselves together?”
“Even though one of us has an ominous destiny that’s going to ruin things for the other two?” said Gunnhild, again with an awful certainty that she was speaking of herself.
“But one of us could also be the next Queen Asa, for all we know. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together,” said Signy with feeling. “What do you say?”
Gunnhild supposed she could play along. She affected an overly regal bearing and said in her most dramatic voice, “If I didn’t know better, troublemaker, I’d say you were trying to make the future most powerful woman in all of Norway beholden to you.”
“I mean . . .” Signy raised her hands as in praise as she turned to Gunnhild and intoned, “O Future Most Powerful Woman in All of Norway! Please take a blood oath with us, and make yourself obligated to us forever!”
Gunnhild snorted, but Oddny said, “No blood oaths.”
Signy dropped her hands with a flourish. “Why not?”
“I don’t see a problem with it,” Gunnhild found herself saying. The sisters fell silent and turned to her: Oddny blinking furiously, Signy’s mouth widening into a grin as she drew her small utility knife from the sheath at her belt.
“Then let’s do it,” Signy said. “Let’s promise that we’ll always be there for each other, even if we don’t walk the same path.”
“Signy, no,” Oddny said crossly, and made a face as her sister sliced a shallow cut across her palm, then passed the knife to Gunnhild. “That’s going to be such a pain to heal.”
Gunnhild imitated Signy, flinching as the blade bit into her skin. Then she handed the knife over to Oddny, who eyed it and said, “You’re really going along with Signy’s foolishness?”
“Be careful,” Gunnhild warned her. “You could be talking to the future most powerful woman in all of Norway.”
Oddny pursed her lips and snatched the knife away. “Fine. But I’m already obligated by blood to clean up Signy’s messes. I’ll swear myself only to you.”
It was Signy’s turn to roll her eyes, but Gunnhild said, “All right.” And once Oddny had cut her hand, they pressed their palms together.
“We’ll always be there for each other,” said Gunnhild quietly.
“Even if we don’t walk the same path,” Oddny finished.
Gunnhild clasped bloodied palms with Signy next.
“There,” said Signy when they broke apart. “Now we’re all sworn sisters.”
Something nagged at Gunnhild then—something she’d noticed during the ritual and had subsequently forgotten in the wake of the troubling prophecy. Once they’d bound their cuts with scraps cut from the blanket, it came to her and she said, “Signy—is it true that you really couldn’t see the seeress’s thread?”
“There wasn’t any thread,” Signy said stubbornly. “You two must’ve been imagining it. Don’t you think people would have reacted if there had been? Mother, Papa, and Vestein didn’t see it—I asked, and they looked at me like I was mad. But still, the fact that you both had the same hallucination . . .” She feigned astonishment. “Oddny, I can’t believe you have an imagination.”
“I’ve had enough silliness for one night,” Oddny said, standing. “I’m going to bed.” She headed back to the longhouse, clasping her bound hand against her chest and looking thoughtful.
Signy turned to Gunnhild. “I’m going back, too. Are you coming?”
“I’ll stay up awhile longer.” Gunnhild drew her knees to her chest once more, wrapping her arms around her legs and tilting her head back to look at the aurora dancing in greens and purples above. She lost track of how long she sat there, alone, contemplating.
By the time she slipped back inside, the hall had quieted and most of the guests were snoring. She tiptoed by the tax collector and his men, past the Sámi, past where Signy and Oddny and their family slept. As she went, she scanned the sectioned platforms for signs of the old seeress, but the braziers had been put out and the fires were burning low, so she had no luck.
As she approached the antechamber, she looked up at the wooden statues of Thor, Odin, and Frey and sent up a silent prayer that her parents were also asleep so she wouldn’t have to face her mother’s wrath tonight.
Her plea was granted: When she slunk through the door, Solveig and Ozur were sleeping soundly, and she mouthed Thank you to the gods as she crept to her own bed—only to find it occupied by none other than the seeress.
Behind her, the old servant Ulfrun rolled over and whispered, “You’re to share with me, lamb. Your mother’s orders.”
Gunnhild made a quiet noise of acquiescence and undressed in the flickering light of the soapstone lamp that sat atop one of the chests. She kept her woolen dress on over her linen shift for extra warmth, then crawled into bed with Ulfrun, who rolled over to face the wall.
She waited until her bunkmate had dozed off again before she crept out of bed and across the narrow chamber to the seeress, whose slack, wrinkled face was cast in sharp relief by the lantern light. Although her eyes were closed, she wasn’t taking the slow, deep breaths of one asleep.
As Gunnhild crouched beside her, the woman cracked open one eye.
“I saw your thread,” Gunnhild said in a low whisper.
The seeress opened both eyes now. “Oh, did you?”
“Yes. And please—which one of us is it, from your prophecy? The one who will spoil things for the others?”
The old woman remained silent.
Gunnhild thought again of the power the seeress had demonstrated during the ritual, the honor she’d been shown, and the silver she’d received as payment for her services. The only way Gunnhild could ever expect to gain such wealth was if her father and future husband both paid an exorbitant dowry and bride-price, respectively. Her value would depend on what others deemed her to be worth.
I wonder what it’s like, Gunnhild thought, not to have a mother or a husband telling you what to do all the time. I wonder what it’s like to be a woman respected on her own, for her own skills, and not who she’s related to.
And then it occurred to her: a way to find all this out on her own, escape her mother’s wrath, and distance herself from Oddny and Signy, who had already been tarnished by her stepping into the circle with them.
“Will you teach me to be a seeress?” Gunnhild asked.
The woman squinted at her. “And why would you wish to be a seeress?”
“I wish to be feared and respected. I wish to be seen.”
“I would put this from your mind if I were you.” The seeress sounded agitated, and Gunnhild heard a hint of fear in her voice, just as during the ritual.
Gunnhild balled her fists. There was still something she was not being told. “But I want to be like you. I want my life to be my own.”
The seeress stared at her a moment longer, then sighed and rolled over to face the wall.
“Will you teach me?” Gunnhild said to the woman’s back. “Please?”
The seeress did not stir at her words. Gunnhild made a defeated noise and crawled back into bed with Ulfrun.