Black Rose

(This part features some rather brief consensual sex between two guys, which I mention here for the benefit of readers expecting Non-Erotic, and also a killing and a suicide.)

***

Chapter 5

The Law of Love

Siegfa returned to his rooms and recounted to Solveig his conversation with Ulf.

'What do you think?' said Solveig, staring at her brother.

'I do not know,' he said. 'Everything he said reassures me. Yet my heart warns me not to trust him.'

'Your heart is wise,' said Solveig. 'You cannot trust him. I think you must go to the baron, and speak directly. The baron will have it out with Sir Ulf.'

'If I am wrong,' said Siegfa, 'then I am disgraced, and you with me.'

'Do you feel you are wrong?' said Solveig. 'Did you not see what you saw?'

'I saw what I saw,' said Siegfa.

'And your word is good,' said Solveig. 'You must go to the baron, or Sir Ulf will talk you into a web of words. Go to the baron in the morning.'

'You are right,' said Siegfa, and Solveig embraced him.

They took a bath together, and talked quietly about old times, and about the uncertain future, and then Solveig dried her brother and Siegfra dried his sister, and they went to bed, and lay there.

As Solveig lay, with her brother innocent in her arms, she was filled with a huge and nameless sadness.

It had no source, but seemed to fill her up like a river overflowing its banks. She started weeping silently, and when Siegfra felt her body shaking he turned and looked at her with concern.

'Sister,' he said, 'what are these tears?'

'I do not know,' she said. 'I cannot account for them. But I fear what will come.'

'Do not fear,' he said, 'for I am strong and able, and you are wise and prudent, and have at least my strength. Together, we cannot bring dishonour on our house.'

There was a knock at the door. Siegfa got up, put on his shirt and breeches, and opened it. Tine, the serving girl, was outside.

'I have a message for my lord,' she said, and handed Siegfa a scroll. He read it, nodded and came over to the bed where his sister lay.

'I must go,' he said. 'I have been called to a meeting with someone who knows of this matter. I will not be long.'

He buckled on his sword belt and put on his boots.

Solveig watched him, and as he headed for the door she could no longer help it, but cried out.

'Brother! No! Do not go! Stay with me!'

'It is a meeting at the stables, sister, nothing more,' said Siegfa, smiling at her, puzzled.

'Stay with me,' she pleaded, and he looked on her.

And he saw her body.

And something in him, and in her look, prompted him to guess what was in her heart.

His smile vanished, and he advanced on her, his face full of anger.

'You forget yourself,' he hissed. 'Have some shame, sister.'

He paused and stood there, his face reddening, as if the words wouldn't come out.

'Learn some shame,' he said at last. 'I will return, and we will talk of this. Say your prayers.'

He headed for the door and left, and Solveig saw the girl give her a worried look before closing the door.

Solveig lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling, motionless, for a long time.

*

Siegfa went to the stables, where the note had told him to go, and he was surprised to find it empty.

'Who's here?' he said. He still felt greatly troubled from his conversation with Solveig. But he decided that the business with Sir Ulf was more important, and did his best to put Solveifg out of his mind.

There was no-one. The girl Tine stood in the doorway. He turned and saw her.

'You can go,' he said, and tossed her a few coins, which she gratefully caught. He heard her footsteps recede across the gravel in the courtyard.

The stable smelled of oats and horse piss. What horses were there, were asleep.

'Who's here?' he said again.

A man stepped out before him. Siegfa knew him by sight, one of Sir Ulf's men, a tall, handsome, older knight named Harasteorra.

'I know you,' said Siegfa.

'And I know you,' said Harasteorra.

'You summoned me,' said Siegfa. 'Why?'

'To get to know you better,' said Harasteorra.

'What do you mean?' said Siegfa. 'To know me better? I have been seeking to find others who also saw Sir Ulf at Casman, who will support me when I go to the Baron.'

'I wasn't at Casman,' said Harasteorra, smiling at Siegfa and approaching him slowly.

'I know you were not,' said Siegfa. 'Do you know one who was?'

'I know plenty,' said Harasteorra. He was holding a bottle of wine. He took a long pull at it and smacked his lips, smiling at Siegfa, who stood baffled, nervous, unnerved by the presence of this large knight, in the stables, in the dead of night, approaching him, smiling at him, towering over him.

'Then can you have them meet me?' said Siegfa.

'I might,' said Harasteorra. 'It depends on what you will give me in return.'

'I have nothing to give,' said Siegfa, 'save my gratitude.'

'Oh, come now,' said Harasteorra. 'I think you have much to offer one such as me.'

'I have no money and no land,' said Siegfa. 'All I have is my home, and my honour.'

'I'm not interested in your honour, or your home,' said Harasteorra, stopping in front of Siegfa and smiling at him, candidly, looking him in the eye.

'Then I have nothing to give you,' said Siegfa softly, nervous.

'Oh, but you do,' said Harasteorra. 'You really do.'

'I don't know what you mean,' Siegfa said.

'You do know what I mean,' said Harasteorra. 'Come now, lad. I'm right, aren't I?'

'Right about what?' said Siegfa.

'You're not like the other lads, are you? You're a serious sort. I know you. When everyone's getting washed, and we're all standing around in the altogether... you get the same feeling I get, don't you?'

Harasteorra stared down into the boy's pale eyes.

Siegfa was struck dumb.

Because it was as if the older man knew his heart, without Siegfa ever having shared it with anyone.

'Do you want me to be honest, Siegfa?' said Harasteorra softly. He was loving this job. It was the best ever.

'It is our duty to be honest.'

'You like men, Siegfa,' said Harasteorra. 'You've always preferred men. The sight of a man's body excites you. You've never done anything about it because you feel it's wrong. I'm here to tell you that it's not wrong. It's perfectly natural. It can be wonderful. All you have to do is... say yes to it.'

Siegfa had always felt that there was something wrong with him, that he had these feelings when he saw other men.

But here was this man telling him that it was not wrong. That other men felt the same way.

'But,' Siegfa stammered, 'the dishonour...'

'How can it be dishonourable to be what you are?' said Harasteorra. 'Where in the Book does it say that a man cannot love his brother, Siegfa? I know you love the Right. What has the Book to say on love between people?'

'It is in Wellwith/Shabtai,' Siegfa said. 'Those who love have a duty towards those they love.'

'Where does it say it has to be between men and women,' Harasteorra said.

'The chapter...' Siegfa began, and then stopped. He was trembling.

'I know it's a chapter about parents,' Harasteorra said.

He paused, and looked down briefly, seemingly in thought, then looked up.

'Siegfa,' he said gently, 'there's nothing wrong with it. It's only people says it's wrong. Do you know me?'

'Yes,' Siegfa said.

'So you probably think I'm a bit... rough around the edges? Not to be trusted?'

'Yes,' Siegfa said, smiling despite himself.

'Well, I am,' Harasteorra said, 'you're right. If I were offering you shares in a gold mine, or to bet on a horse, you'd be right to mistrust me. But on this, I'm telling the plain truth. I'm the same as you. I have the same feelings. And just because Hargest don't think them natural, don't mean they aren't.'

Siegfa looked at the older man, his heart pounding.

'You're very beautiful, Siegfa,' Harasteorra said softly. 'I don't think I've ever seen anyone more beautiful. You should be happy. I can show you how.'

He reached up towards Siegfa's face.

The urge to let Harasteorra kiss him, to feel the man's desire for him, made Siegfa want to cry out. But it was too dangerous. Everything he was, everything he had worked for, could be ruined.

It was all very well for a disreputable scoundrel like Harasteorra to lie with other men.

I am a servant to the baron, Siegfa thought.

'I cannot do this,' he gasped, and flinched backwards.

'Why not,' Harasteorra said, smiling. 'Nobody need know. You think you're the first good young man I've met who knows he likes other men? I've done this before, Siegfa. If you want this, and if we're careful, it can be entirely between you and I.'

Siegfa hung back, staring at him.

'If the Right don't care who you love, then neither should you,' Harasteorra said. 'It's most excellent in a knight to want a good name, but you have other concerns but your name. The word tells us so. The Right cares for your love, not for your name. You must attend to what your heart tells you.'

Siegfa was silent for a long moment.

'... How does it work,' he said softly.

***

Solveig woke up to find Siegfa back in the room, removing his boots. It was dark. She sat up in bed and watched him. He ignored her.

'Who was it,' she said.

'None of your concern,' he said curtly. Solveig turned back the cover and got out of bed, to go to him. He grimaced, picked up a shirt and flung it at her.

'Cover yourself,' he said. 'We shall talk in the morning about your behaviour. I will sleep in the other room.'

He got up and walked out of the chamber. Solveig stared down at the shirt in her hands. She got back into bed and held the shirt to herself.

***

As she lay in bed that night, Solveig felt the sense of dread that had been following her, for her whole life.

It had caught up with her. It had become the air she breathed, the sea in which she thrashed and sank.

My brother.

For years, I have planned and dreamed for us.

I saw you as the knight, riding out to war and glory, with I as your sister and partner, keeping home for you, championing you, and planning with you.

They would have respected your honour and your sword, and they would have loved your kindness and your bravery and your beauty.

But love and respect aren't enough, are they. I don't think you realise that.

They would have also feared my anger and my reach.

For, while you have been off at war, and entering the lists, and being a companion to your friends, and I have remained here, and run our household and collected tithes and arranged for repairs and paid servants and paid rent and done all the things that you weren't interested in doing, I have also studied things. Those darker arts of war and politics that you, as a good knight, thought vulgar and beneath you.

And, if we had remained united--by god, my brother, they would have wished to be us.

We would have shone, like two stars of Rakissala in the grey hills of Hargest. We would have been glorious.

And now that's gone forever. Because I never spoke to you of how I love you.

You think I lust after you.

It was never that, dear brother.

***

The next morning, Solveig was sitting at the table waiting for her brother. Before her were bread and apples and water and butter and honey.

She had dressed in her most modest clothes and put up her hair. She waited for him to come in and break his fast.

After a long time, he entered. He stopped and looked at her.

She looked up at him.

After a long moment, she decided to speak, but he held up his hand.

'We will not speak of your words and actions last night,' he said. 'I would have you think on their fitness to a sister of a knight of Hargest.'

'Forgive me,' she stammered.

'I do not want to know what filth you have been keeping in your heart, Solveig,' he said.

'Brother,' she said, 'it is not what you think.'

'You begged me to join with you in bed,' he said. 'Beggedme. And all this time I had thought you loved me as a sister loves a brother.'

'I do,' Solveig said, appalled.

'It is filth, Solveig,' he said.

'No,' she said. 'I have no wish to...'

'Silence!'

He had never shouted at her before.

'I would not have you speak the words and infect the air,' he said. 'It is no concern of mine. It is between you and the Right. I have much to do. Stay here, do your duties and pray. We will talk further.'

He picked up an apple and left.

Solveig sat in silence for some time.

Presently she stood up, summoned Tine the serving girl, told her to give the food to the poor, and went about her duties.

***

Later the same morning, Solveig was sitting in the parlour of their house, having finished the household accounts for the month. All of the accounts were shared with Siegfa at the end of each month. There was, however, one item, 'sndries etc', which was meant to represent running repairs, miscellaneous problems that had to get paid for, things like that.

In fact, 'sndries etc' was mostly wine.

Solveig poured herself her fourth glass of wine of the morning, drank half of it, and noticed that the bottle was empty.

That was bad. She would have to find a moment to break the bottle into shards and conceal it in the regular rubbish.

Three glasses of wine had entirely failed to dull her upset about the collapse of her hopes for her and Siegfa's life together. It still loomed in the immediate future like a vast black cloud.

After all I have done for you.

After all I have sacrificed.

And you treat me thus.

... Because...

You are right, brother. Itiswrong to want one's brother for one's own.

But...

She tried to think of what it would be like to touch him and kiss him and roll in the bed with him, and...

It was an incomprehensible and nasty tangle of smells and sweat and grunting. A painful knot of indignity.

The thought of it was... simply irrelevant. Like suggesting they should play chase together, like four year olds.

No, brother.

I wanted only to be the one you came home to, the one who held you, the one who shared your bed, and your life, and your secrets.

Not... make thebeastwith you. Yet that is what you think I want. And now I cannot persuade you otherwise.

Solveig picked up the bottle and walked out of the room through to the garden, where she quietly broke it and dumped the shards in the midden.

The only effect of the three and a half glasses of wine was to make her think less of the world beyond her and Siegfa.

She paused and closed her aching eyes, feeling the heat of the drink in her face.

I will have to stop for a few hours. Siegfa cannot return and find me half-drunk and pining.

'Are you all right, lady?'

Solveig opened her eyes. Tine Skorvsdottir stood in the kitchen door, looking concerned.

'I'm very well, Tine,' Solveig said brightly, and passed by her on her way back into the house. She paused in the kitchen. There was a new cook and Solveig saw the pile of spud peelings left on the table. She went over and riffled through them with her fingers; the girl was cutting away much good spud. This was a lot of wastage.

'Tine,' she said, 'may I see our peeling knife?'

'There you go, lady,' said Tine obligingly, handing it to her. Solveig examined it; it was still good, and sharp enough.

'She's a hacker,' Tine said. Solveig smiled.

'She is. I would have her peel with a little more consideration for hungry bellies. And I see she hasn't washed these. Had she washed them, we could have used them straight in the soup.'

'I'll talk to her, lady,' Tine said.

Although a servant, Tine was older than Solveig; twenty-four to Solveig's nineteen, ripe for marriage. But she was loyal and cheerful and, which Solveig prized most of all, wonderfully discreet. Tine saw all, but told nothing to anyone except Solveig.

'You are a treasure, Tine.'

'Just for interest, lady,' Tine said lightly, 'we've found mint growing against the east wall. Jarl picked some. Does wonders to freshen the breath.' She handed Solveig a small bunch. Solveig glanced at her, but Tine was hurrying off.

Well played, Tine, Solveig thought, and stripped a few leaves from the bunch and slipped them into her mouth.

***

That night, after the night of Siegfa and Harasteorra's first talk, Siegfa felt himself restless and ill at ease. He was aware that he had got no further in the matter of sounding out the men about what happened to Freya. But the thought of going to the common mess and asking men disturbed him. The very idea of being among so many men, in the light of his talk with Harasteorra, made him distrait.

He couldn't sleep, and he found himself wandering in and out of the stable all evening, always with some good reason which was never the true one.

It was after midnight when he went in there and heard the voice say, 'Welcome back.'

*

'Lady?'

Solveig jerked awake. She had fallen asleep in her chair. Her neck was stiff. The copy ofCommentaries on Nwachuku/Brownlay open before her. The full glass of wine sat there. So did her supper, untouched. Tine stood by her chair.

'I fell asleep,' she said. 'What time is it?'

'Time for some refreshing tea,' Tine said. 'Here you are, lady.'

Yes, I know I should not pass out from drink at my table, Tine.

'May I ask a question, lady?'

Solveig focused on Tine and nodded.

'Is all well with you? I'm sorry to presume.'

No, Tine, all is not well. My brother thinks that I wanted to bear his children, and now he loathes me.

'Yes, all is well,' Solveig said. 'Have no worries.'

'Oh, good,' Tine said. 'Well, if you should want me, lady, only ring.'

'Thank you. Have you seen my brother?'

'He went for a walk, lady. I thought I saw him go by the stables.'

'Thank you.'

*

'The one person,' Siegfa was saying, 'the one soul I have had to confide in, and now I find she has lusted after me for... I do not know how long.'

Harasteorra's impulse was to tell the boyAnd what harm? Your sister is a fine girl, we have wine, we are speaking freely--bring her here, and I will show you both such pleasures that you will think it childish that you ever felt such shame.

But he was on a job, and so it couldn't be done. Siegfa was to be brought under control, not made into another Harasteorra.

Time to bring out the old They're Not Like Us routine, he thought.

He had a pull from his wine bottle.

'Women are different from men,' he said, looking as thoughtful and judicious as possible. 'They do not truly have thoughts, and ideals, as men do. They are merely creatures of desire. Of blind, groping will. They stumble blindly into their destiny, which is why so many end up as wives in their husbands' shadow. A man can make choices, and shape his own fate. A woman cannot.'

Siegfa stared at him, eyes gleaming, eating this up.

'Do not be too hard on your sister, Siegfa,' Harasteorra said. 'She can hardly help loving you, given your admirableness and general excellence. And she sees so few other men, it is only natural that she came to love her unparalleled brother.

'But only another man could see you for what you are.'

Reaching out and stroking the boy again. Smiling.

'It takes a man to appreciate you at your true worth.'

Siegfa was smiling back.

Impulsively, the young man grabbed Harasteorra's right hand and kissed it, laying it against his cheek.

Harasteorra lifted Siegfa's face and kissed his lips. He was glad to find Siegfa leaning into the kiss.

When they parted, Siegfa lowered his head.

'Can I have been wrong, to trust her so,' he said, half to himself. 'She and I have ruled our house jointly for years. I have always trusted Solveig. And to find this out...'

Careful. Don't drive a wedge.

'Solveig is a wonderful girl,' Harasteorra said. 'I know she will make someone a fine wife, when she accepts that you will not be her husband. But a man's house is his own domain, Siegfa. It can't have two lords. You will need to make clear to her that there must be a boundary to what she can and can't do.'