Sleep did not come easily, but when it did come, Gunnhild dreamed that she was the one atop that platform with an iron staff clutched in her hand, gazing out over an enraptured crowd.
In her dreams, her fate was hers and hers alone.
3
GUNNHILD AWOKE WITH THE knowledge that the punishment for her behavior the night before was drawing nearer with each guest’s departure from the island.
Ketil’s family was among the first to leave, claiming a long day of farmwork ahead. Gunnhild kept her head down except to bid Signy and Oddny farewell. She didn’t respond when they blew the horn three times for goodbye; she’d owe them each a prize later, but that was the least of her worries.
Finally, at around midday, the king’s tax collector and his men were the last ones left, as they were staying an extra night—more time for Gunnhild to agonize over what her mother was going to do with her. Her only spot of hope was that the old seeress had disappeared from her bed. There were whispers that she was sitting out on the far side of the island. Nobody knew what she was up to, but Gunnhild listened to the servants’ speculations as she hid in the cookhouse and helped prepare supper, thus managing to avoid her mother’s wrath for a second night.
The seeress reappeared the next morning as the family and their guests were settling in for breakfast, after which the tax collector and his crew would ferry her along to their next destination. The old woman entered the hall silently and hobbled over to the high seat to look upon the heads of household, who were seated on their elaborately carved bench atop the platform.
“Ozur Eyvindsson and Solveig Alfsdottir,” the seeress said, shoulders squared as she planted both hands firmly upon her walking stick, “your daughter Gunnhild expressed to me her wish to learn the ways of a seeress from me, and after thinking upon it, I wish to take her under my tutelage.”
Gunnhild spat a mouthful of porridge back into her bowl.
Her parents did not speak, and the light chatter around the hall ceased as all heads turned to the hersir and his wife: Ozur seemed flabbergasted, but Solveig looked murderous. Gunnhild, sitting across the hall from them, swallowed heavily.
“I . . . am not sure what to make of this,” said Ozur as he looked to his wife. “Solveig?”
“We already have an arrangement for Gunnhild.” Solveig’s eyes flicked over to where her daughter sat. “As of yesterday, in fact.”
An arrangement?! Gunnhild set her porridge aside, her appetite suddenly lost. Whatever her mother had in store for her—had she been sold as a servant? Betrothed to a man so old he’d probably die before she came of age?—it wouldn’t be something Gunnhild wanted for herself. That much was clear from the smug look on Solveig’s face.
“May I inquire as to the nature of this arrangement?” the seeress asked.
Ozur said, “I talked to my old friend Skuli just before your ritual, and we’ve come to an agreement that we think will be beneficial to all of us. In three winters’ time, Gunnhild is to marry him.”
Old Man Skuli?! Gunnhild thought, horrified. But he’s—he’s—no, this can’t be—
“But he’s old,” she blurted before she could stop herself. “He’s got three wives already and twelve sons between them, and they’re already fighting over their inheritance—”
“Skuli is extremely wealthy, Gunna,” said Ozur. “You’ll be well taken care of. It’s no less than we’ve done for any of your sisters.”
I don’t want to be taken care of, Gunnhild wanted to scream. I want to be free.
“Would that we could be rid of her sooner, useless daughter that she is,” Solveig added. “Trust us, Heid—you don’t want this girl. She’s been trouble since the moment she was born.”
The old woman raised her sparse eyebrows. “Oh? How so?”
Solveig’s lip curled. “Her brothers were to be my last children, but this body of mine had other plans. I hadn’t even known I could still conceive, and her birth nearly killed me. Yet she’s an ungrateful little whelp. She’s stubborn and insubordinate and balks at the auspicious marriage we’ve secured for her. She should be ashamed of herself.”
“Solveig,” Ozur said sharply.
Gunnhild felt Heid’s eyes upon her, studying her. Heid: so common a name for a seeress that it seemed more of a title. She wondered what the old woman’s true name was.
“So this is my punishment, Mother?” Gunnhild asked through clenched teeth. “For my behavior at the ritual?”
Solveig’s eyes flashed with anger. “You deliberately disobeyed me. You should be grateful we’re not selling you into servitude instead of marrying you off.”
“What’s the difference?” Gunnhild fired back. “And why didn’t you want me to hear my fate in the first place? Alf and Eyvind said it was because of something the last seeress told you.”
Solveig cut a withering look to her only sons, who suddenly became very interested in the floor.
“I have a right to know, Mother,” Gunnhild said.
“Is that so?” Solveig whirled back to face her. “You are twelve winters old. You have a right to nothing at all save what your father and I deem fit to give you, which is already more than you deserve.” And then, sensing an opportunity for cruelty, she smiled. “But since you’re so intent upon it—when you were small, yes, another seeress passed through here during a storm, so only our household heard what she had to say: that a terrible future awaited you. We would’ve never been able to get rid of you if anyone else knew, so we swore everyone to secrecy.”
Gunnhild’s breath caught. A terrible future?
“I’m only thankful that you decided to run into the circle with your little friends,” Solveig went on, “so it wasn’t clear who the prophecy concerned. Now you’ve doomed Yrsa’s girls, but at least you already have a match—you’re lucky your father shook on it with witnesses before the ritual even began, so Skuli can’t back out.”
“I’m lucky?” Gunnhild echoed.
Solveig continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Nothing will save your friends’ reputations now, for the seed of suspicion has already been planted. We’ve spared you that pain. You should be thanking us.”
Gunnhild’s vision blurred with tears. She hated to admit it, but Solveig was right about what would become of Signy and Oddny. Even at her age, she knew that once people got a superstitious idea into their heads, it was hard to shake even when presented with evidence to the contrary.
“You truly are a vile woman,” Heid cut in, her dark eyes fixed on Solveig. She ignored the subsequent noise of outrage from the lady of the house and turned her attention to Ozur. “Whatever Skuli is paying for her bride-price in three winters, I’ll pay double right now, provided you also give her a dowry to take with her on our journey.”
Gunnhild could not believe her ears.
As Solveig sat seething, Ozur looked to his youngest daughter. “I’m sorry, Gunna. As your mother said, Skuli and I have already shaken on it. The deal has been made.”
“Then the matter is settled,” Solveig said, smiling, showing too many teeth.