Black Rose

Chapter 4: Realities

1. The Twins from Rakissala

The Year 499

Hargest. Dwelling of Sir Jorn Claudsson

'I've done what I can,' she said.

He came in, wearing his stained and bloody shirt. He looked at what she had laid out: the tub, the table with its decanter and cups, the sweet-smelling steam.

'This is too much,' he said, smiling. She was leaning over the tub and she looked up at him.

'You will make me soft,' he said, shaking his head.

'What am I to do? You've laboured, and you deserve rest.'

'But all this,' he said. 'All I have done is run up and down a field waving my sword.'

'And you've surely earned your place, by your valour and your skill.'

'You are as skilled. Who have I been sparring with?'

'I should have entered the list,' she said with a wry smile.

'It is against the Right.'

'Where exactly does it say that?'

She reached out her hands and pulled his shirt over his head and handed it to her.

'McCartin-Yuksel, four fourteen,' he said. 'The lists of right for field activity are open only to men.'

'I could never read McCartin-Yuksel,' she said. 'I know it's wonderful and everything, but it's just rules after rules.'

'It is a shame,' he said, standing with his weight on one leg, rubbing a bruise on his side. 'If the Book were any less clear than it is, I would have urged you to enter the list. You would have done well.'

'Hush. Everyone saw how well you did, and the baron will accept you, I know it. Now, stop pretending you don't like a hot bath, and get in.'

'What are we going to do with you,' he said, smiling at her. He stepped into the bath.

'Sit down,' she said, tapping the edge of the tub.

'Why is it that baths are always hotter when you first step into them? I know they grow cold over time, I don't mean that. I just mean that they seem much hotter when you first get in, but you quickly become used to it.'

'You can get used to anything, I suppose.'

She picked up the wooden cup and dropped it in the water next to his legs. He sat down gingerly, until he was fully immersed up to the neck.

'Mmmmm,' he said, closing his eyes, basking in the warmth and luxury. 'That is wonderful.'

She'd been boiling crock after crock since before he went out to the trials.

He knew she'd been doing it. It took nothing away from the happiness of having it done for him.

'Keep your eyes shut,' she said, and poured the scented water over his head. He smiled.

'Here's the soap,' she said, handing him the cake. 'And the scraper. I'm not going to wash you as well.'

He opened his eyes and looked at her. She sat on a stool by the bath and poured them both some wine.

'But,' he said, 'what are we going to do with you. I'm serious.'

'Why do we have to do anything with me?' She sipped her wine. 'I look after you and the house, and you bring us glory.'

'Yes, but sooner or later we will have to find you a husband.'

She sipped her wine again and rolled it around her mouth.

'I don't see why,' she said.

'Because you need to be married.'

'You are the same age as me. Shouldn't you be getting married?'

'I am not, um...'

He frowned and rubbed soap on his arms. She watched him, coolly.

'Marriage is not for me,' he said, nodding decisively. 'I am a warrior. I will likely die in the field. I can't do that to a wife.'

'If I am married, I will have to look after my husband, and you will have to look after yourself. I can't do that to you.'

'Solveig, don't be ridiculous. You can't spend your whole life looking after me. You will fall in love, and be ruled by nature, and you'll forget all about me because you'll be lying in some man's arms beneath the willow tree, and the only word on your lips will be his name, and the only one you will have eyes for will be him. It's natural.'

'Isn't it natural for a sister to want to look after her brother?'

'Yes, but you can't do it forever.'

'I've done it all my life,' she said.

He was silent. She sipped her wine.

*

He couldn't remember their parents. She could.

They were tall, like us,she'd told him.

How did they die?

They died trying to save us.

The war had been getting nearer and nearer, and their mother and father had taken in all the neighbours, for theirs was the biggest house and they were good, kind people.

And then death had come to the house, and to their mother and father, and to all the guests that slept there. And she had seen death moving through the house, and she woke her brother in the middle of the night.

And, as death had moved through the homestead calling their name, he began to panic, and he stopped and told her to leave him, because he was no use. And she was very fierce, and swore at him in a whisper, and she dragged him over to the cesspit and they climbed in and hid there, amid the stench of shit, for hours.

He got sick and she got sick, but they stayed quiet. As the morning went on they grew thirsty, and then began to rain, and they let the rain fall into their mouths, but the soldiers were still there and they couldn't move, and he got weak.

But she held him up, holding his head above the shit, telling him that they would survive, and her belief and her fierceness made him cling on to her, even though she was no bigger than he was.

And just when he was drifting in and out of sleep and wanted more and more to let himself slide into the shit and drown, light poured down on them and there were voices. Not shouting.

Well, well, well. Fuck's this.

Kill us now, she said in her rusty New Tongue.

How long you been in there? Come on out, don't be daft.

And they were hauled out by strong men who'd held their noses at the two shit-covered, shivering, exhausted children. The men laughed at the state they were in, and he was sure that it was the end, but the men took their filthy clothes away, and washed them all over, and gave them blankets and drink and food. A tall man in fine armour came over and the men had told him of the two kids hiding in the cesspit, and the man knelt down and asked questions. Solveig answered in as few words as possible.

A time.

No.

Dead.

My brother.

We hid.

The man sat back on his heels and stared at them.

'That is rare. You are both very, very brave.'

She shivered, still cold and damp.

'Do you want a new life?'

'I want our old life,' she had said.

'I can't give you that,' the man had said, 'but you can be together, if you wish. I would never split up a pair as brave as you two. If I keep you together, then I can have you both in sight at all times.'

He didn't understand this, and he looked at her, and she had been staring up at the man with fear and dislike all over her face; but on hearing him say that, she gave a very faint smile.

And so they travelled over the ocean to Hargest with the tall man, whose name was Jorn, and they met his wife Ella, and Jorn and Ella were kind, and gave them a new home and became their new parents. For Jorn and Ella had tried to have children, but could not, so they took in the orphans and named her Solveig, and him Siegfa.

Their true names, the names their parents had given them, only they knew.

Shouldn't we tell them our real names,he had once said, when they had been living with Jorn and Ella for about a year.

No,she had said, looking up at him and glaring.

Why not?

Those names are ours. They are yours and mine. Nobody else's. Never tellanyoneyour true name.

Why not?

Because when people know your true name, they can rule you.

One time, just once, when they were about 13 and Jorn and Ella took them to Memika on business, and they were having something to eat in some public house down by the seafront, she let him carve their true names into the tabletop.

It was their little secret.

Well. One of them.

***

'You have looked after me,' he said, 'but don't you want to stop? I am a man now, as you are a woman.'

Solveig reached up and, looking away from him, stroked the back of her head.

'Why can't I just go on,' she said softly. 'Why must we complicate things.'

Siegfa sat back in the bath and regarded her, as he lifted his leg out of the water and rubbed it with soap.

'It's all very well sparring, and riding, and learning about war,' he said, 'but don't you wish for a bigger life? Don't you wish to make a fine match, and honour The Right with strong children?'

'In time,' Solveig said.

'Then we must begin to look for a man you find acceptable,' he said. Solveig smiled.

'I am glad, at any rate,' she said, 'that the search will not be for a man who finds me acceptable.'

He laid his hand on her arm.

'Sister,' he said, 'let us not lie. There are any number of men who would do so.'

'Because I am fit to be a bride,' she said, wrinkling her nose and smiling.

'Yes,' he said, sitting up. 'You are. We are both strong and healthy. We have good blood. Better than Sir Jorn and Lady Ella, blessed be their memory. They could not have children. But we could. You could.'

She looked at him for a long moment.

'What,' he said, 'you don't think so? You are as good a hostess as any woman in Hargest, and you run our house like you were born to it. You could have any man in the barony.'

She stared for a moment at his hand, resting on her sleeve.

'Maybe,' she said.

There was a voice outside, and in came Carl Gunnarsson, a dark, sober-minded youth, one of the baron's personal guards. He paused in the doorway and inclined his head

'Gunnarsson,' said Siegfa, all serious.

'I hesitate to interrupt your bath, Siegfa of Rakissala,' he said, 'but I come with word from the baron.'

Solveig glanced at Siegfa. He was staring at Carl Gunnarsson, his eyes shining, his hand clutching Solveig's.

'I welcome any word from the baron,' Siegfa said.

Gunnarsson paused for a moment, expressionless, and then gave one of his rare smiles.

'You will welcome this the more,' he said. 'The baron wishes me to tell you that your merit in the competition has not escaped his notice, as has your bravery in the field and general good conduct. He wants to know if you will accept the honour of becoming a knight of Hargest.'

The joy that came over Siegfa's face made Solveig smile.

'A knighthood,' he said.

'You've earned it,' Gunnarsson said.

'Please tell the baron that I will serve him most faithfully in whatever role he sees fit to give me,' Siegfa said.

Gunnarsson nodded.

'I will,' he said. 'Enjoy your bath.' He turned and went out.

'I told you,' Solveig said. Siegfa was grinning all over his face. He reached up and put his hands on her shoulders.

'Sister,' he said, 'this is it. Our fortunes have turned, now. Even you cannot deny it.'

'"Even me"?' She smiled quizzically. 'Am I such a bad weather bird?'

'Everything we have worked for,' he said. 'The house is ours, now. None can take it from us.'

'It was your doing,' she said, taking his hands off her shoulders and getting to her feet.

'It was our doing,' he said, grinning. 'Never forget that. Together, none can beat us.'

'Do not be cocky,' she said. 'It doesn't suit you.'

'Shut up,' he said, and grabbed her, and she screamed as he pulled her over into the bath.

She surfaced, spluttering, and slapped him on the bare arm. But he turned her so that she faced away from him, and put his arms around her so that she lay between his legs, and hugged her.

'You will see what we can do,' he said, exultantly.

Solveig lay in his arms, feeling the warm water soak her body through her clothes; feeling his body beneath hers.

You have proved yourself, brother, she thought. Now it's I who must prove myself.

She let herself relax against him, and she closed her eyes.

***

The Year 501

Hargest

Of all the knights who rode back with Ulf and Snorri's party, none were so troubled in his mind as Siegfa Stopbern Jornsson, brother of Solveig Stopbern Jornsdottir.

Most of the knights had not known precisely what Ulf was going to say to Baron Hargest, for Ulf was a man who liked to play his cards very close; it was rightly said of Ulf that he kept his secrets tighter than a new bride kept in a fart.

So, when Ulf told the story of how Freya had been eaten by the giant worm, and omitted the part where she had been spat out again, those few of the knights who had seen with their own eyes that she'd been ejected--and, indeed, that Ulf had inspected her body and had announced that she was 'defiled'--were troubled indeed. Why had he done this?

However, Snorri backed up Ulf's story, and most of the knights either told themselves that they must have misremembered what had happened, or else agreed that Ulf must have had a very good reason for not telling Hargest about Freya being spat out. Perhaps she had been horribly disfigured and he wished not to trouble them with such details. In any case, most of those few remaining who had seen what they had seen and who felt that Ulf was being deliberately deceptive, decided not to say anything. Ulf was rich and powerful. He did not take insubordination lightly, and most of them feared him enough to value their skins more than the truth.

One did not.

When the mourning feast was over, Siegfa returned to his chamber to find Solveig doing the household accounts.

'Sir Ulf is a liar,' he said, his voice shaking with anger.

'How so?' she said.

'He reported to His Grace the Baron that Lady Freya was eaten by the worm at Casman. But the worm did not eat her. It spat her out, and he inspected her body, and he did not pronounce her dead but said she had been 'defiled'. I remember it. It was the worst thing I had ever seen, Solveig. How could I forget? That a lady so valorous as Lady Freya could be so, so...'

He sat down, pale and trembling. Solveig poured him a goblet of wine. He drank. Siegfa never normally drank much, but when agitated he often needed a drink to calm down.

'And then to lie to my lord's face,' he said, 'to lie, flat-out, that she had been killed? There is no honour in the man, sister. He is nothing better than a bully.'

'Strong words, brother,' said Solveig, looking at him with concern. 'You are sure of this?'

'As sure as I see you,' he said, taking her hand.

'We should not have left her there. At the very least, Sir Ulf should have told His Grace that her body was left there, that we might organise a party to retrieve it. But he did no such thing.'

'If what you say is true,' she said, 'then he is indeed at fault. But what do you propose to do about it?'

'Go to him, of course,' said Siegfa. 'I must confront him before he digs himself into this lie. He can say... that the truth were too terrible to tell in public, or some such. But he must own up that he left her there. It is the only way.'

'Wait,' she said. 'Before you go straight to Sir Ulf, are you not in fealty to Sir Gunnar?'

'Yes,' said Siegfa.

'If you go straight to Sir Ulf and do not first go to Sir Gunnar, Sir Gunnar will think you do not trust him. There is a way of doing these things, brother. If you would challenge Sir Ulf's account, you will need the support of your immediate commander.'

'Then I will talk to him,' said Siegfa, rising to his feet.

'Not now,' said Solveig. 'They will still be at the feast and will not want to discuss these things. Let them have their party. Then go to Sir Gunnar tomorrow.'

'As always, you are the wiser of us, sister,' said Siegfa, smiling at his sister. 'The world is poorer that you cannot be a knight.'

'A life of slaughter is not for me,' she said, smiling back and holding his hand in hers. 'I live to serve.'

'As do we all,' he said, leaning over and kissing her on the forehead.

And so, the next morning, Siegfa went to see his liege-lord Sir Gunnar.

Gunnar was in his fifties, a slow-moving, slow-thinking but loyal servant of Hargest. Gunnar listened to Siegfa explain what had really happened.

'Spat out, you say?' he said.

Siegfa stood in front of him, pale and serious.

'Yes. Like an unwanted morsel, from the mouth of a dog. The lady was covered in some vile grey stuff. I did not myself get close enough to see whether she had gone to the land of the dead, but I saw with my own eyes Sir Ulf approach her body and examine her, and he pronounced her not dead, but 'defiled'.'

'Not dead?' said Sir Gunnar, raising his eyebrows sharply

'He did not say that she was dead,' said Siegfa, 'or at any rate, I did not hear everything that he said. I did not clearly hear whether or not he pronounced her alive, but just as certainly, he did not clearly tell us that she was dead. But her body was there, at any rate. We left her on the plain, not in the belly of the monster.'

'Then it sounds to me very much as though Sir Ulf has some questions to answer,' said Sir Gunnar, rising to his feet. 'You did well to come to me with this, Siegfa. We'll get to the bottom of it, have no fear.'

'Thank you, Sir Gunnar,' said the youth, and saluted.

After Siegfa had gone, Gunnar thought for a while, to no great purpose, and then went to visit Ulf in his house. Ulf offered him food and drink.

'What brings Sir Gunnar to my home,' he said cordially.

'You know young Siegfa, one of my liegemen?' said Gunnar.

'Handsome boy?' said Ulf. 'The one with the beautiful sister?'

'The same,' said Gunnar. 'He's come to me with a remarkable story.'

'Oh yes?' said Ulf, settling back in his chair and looking back at Gunnar calmly.

'He says that, at Casman, Freya wasn't eaten by this cursed worm thing. He says it spat her out, and that you examined her body and said she was, quote, defiled, and that you left here there.'

Ulf was silent for a moment.

'I wonder why he'd say such a thing.'

'Me too,' said Gunnar.

'Bit of an imagination, this lad, then?'

'By no means,' said Gunnar. 'Sound as a

horseshoe from Tonner's own anvil. Never known him to make anything up in his life.'

'It's not true, though,' said Ulf.

'Well, why would he make up such a thing?' said Gunnar, looking back at Ulf.

They stared at each other for a moment.

'Does it sound like the sort of thing I'd do?' said Ulf.

'Knowing you,' said Gunnar, and shrugged. Ulf's face darkened.

'Steady on,' he said, 'are you saying that I'd do that? Purposefully leave a man on the field and lie about it?'

'I'm saying that you look after yourself, and it can't be denied that it's got you where you are,' said Gunnar. 'I'm not saying the lad isn't wrong. Just that he believes he's right. What are we to do about it?'

Ulf looked at Gunnar for a moment.

'What areweto do about it?' he said.

'He's accusing you,' said Gunnar. 'I think you should at least talk to him.'

'Very well,' said Ulf. 'Send him to me.'

***

Siegfa's only meeting with Ulf took place the following day, after supper, in Ulf's house. He invited Siegfa in, offered him wine--Siegfa turned him down and drank water instead--and sat down.

'Sir Gunnar told me you'd been to see him,' said Ulf.

'I have spoken with Sir Gunnar,' said Siegfa, pale and tense.

'I don't think he made it clear what you had said,' Ulf said. 'Sir Gunnar is a great knight and a good man, but he is a soldier, not a preacher. He has not the power to make his meaning clear. Perhaps you could tell me.'

'I may speak plainly, then,' said Siegfa.

'It is your duty,' said Ulf.

'I was disturbed by what you told the His Grace and Her Grace in the hall, two nights ago,' said Siegfa. 'About how the Lady Freya died.'

'I see,' said Ulf. 'Why?'

'It was not true,' said Siegfa. 'The beast spat her out. You saw her. I was coming over the ridge and I saw her spat out, and as I neared the bottom of the slope, I saw you approach her and exchange words with the village elder. I did not hear all you said, but I saw you approach the Lady Freya on the ground and look at her, and I heard you say she was defiled, and that we must go. That is not what you said two nights ago.'