Kendra peeked out of the door at the falling snow and was relieved to see Gyda, the midwife, trudging up the mountain path. ‘Heil, friend!’ she called, waving her arms cheerfully at Kendra as she strode to meet her. ‘How are you feeling?’
Kendra smiled and nodded. There were not many people she liked at the settlement. Many of them said she was far too proud, although she wasn’t sure what they meant by that. But at least Gyda was not one of them. Gyda was older than Kendra by a few years, and had helped birth most of the children and some of the young adults of the settlement. Those she had not, her mother had—it was a family tradition that Gyda had explained had gone on for generations.
‘Thank you for coming. I have not yet had any of the signs you mentioned.’
Gyda nodded sagely, bustling into Kendra’s home and thumping her pack down in the middle of the room. ‘Of course you haven’t! You’re nowhere near ready!’
‘I am due any day!’ grumbled Kendra, and Gyda gave her an uncompromising look.
‘You cannot fool me.’
Kendra shrugged, although she prayed her deceit was not common knowledge. She no longer worried about Magnus, but there were still his parents to consider. How would they feel about a grandchild growing up away from them? Flopping down on the mattress of the bed, she asked, ‘What news from the settlement?’
Gyda looked neither impressed nor interested in her question. ‘What news? What are you expecting to hear? Shall I tell you that Sven broke his arm whilst wrestling? Or that old Frigg ate a bad mushroom and was convinced she was a horse for two days? Or… perhaps…you wish to know about Hilda, Jarl Borg’s daughter, and her search for a husband?’
Kendra swallowed hard and gave a sharp little nod. ‘Go on,’ she urged, her nails cutting into her palms.
‘No wedding plans have been made…yet. But I suspect the Jarl grows impatient with Magnus’s reluctance.’
‘Oh…’ Kendra’s fingers relaxed, although she felt foolish for caring so deeply. ‘Is Frigg feeling any better?’
‘She has stopped neighing…’ Gyda stared at her as if she had also decided to become a horse. ‘What is wrong with you, Kendra?’
‘What?’
Gyda shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘Why are you here? When you could be with the father of your child? When you could be happy?’
Kendra touched her stomach protectively. ‘Heimdall is dead.’
‘Heimdall is no more the father than I or Frigg. Everyone knows it.’
Kendra swallowed down a huge ball of fear and panic that had settled in her throat. ‘Everyone?’
‘Yes,’ Gyda snapped. ‘Everyone!’
Kendra rocked back on her heels, unsure of what to say, ‘And…do they suspect Magnus is the father?’
‘Suspect?’ Gyda gave a loud snort of disgust. ‘They do more than suspect, child.’
Kendra felt the ground tilt beneath her feet, and she tried to suck in deep, calming breaths as she clutched the side of the table for balance.
‘I have a message from Magnus’s mother for you,’ added the midwife, and Kendra immediately stiffened. Gyda seemed to take pity on her because her voice softened. ‘She only wants me to ask you this… Could you grow to love Magnus? Given enough time? He is not a bad man.’
Kendra was confused for a moment, until she realised that she had always denied loving him. Had he told his mother the same?
Gyda frowned at her lack of response and then her eyes widened. ‘You do love him!’ She leaned forward. ‘Say the word and I will help you pack!’
‘No.’ Kendra shook her head, the temptation so great she had to bite her lip. ‘I can’t! I refuse to be a slave again.’
Gyda rolled her eyes. ‘And you think that is what Magnus would want? For you to be a slave? Men have disappointed you in the past—Heimdall, and the men of your village who should have protected you from being sold into slavery. So I understand your reluctance to place your faith in another. But when has Magnus demanded anything from you? When has he ever failed you?’
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