The Viking Witch Mysteries: Books 4-6

Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

I had just taken the rolls out of the oven when there was a tentative knock on my front door. It was so soft I thought at first I might have imagined it, but Thorbjorn got up and briefly made eye contact with me before heading out to the hall. I set the pan on a trivet and pulled off my oven mitt before following behind him.

I felt something brush past my legs and realized that Mjolner was back. He was moving past me as if he had just come in through the front door. The front door Thorbjorn hadn't even opened yet. I turned to watch him head into the great room and zip over to his bed by the fireplace. Then I turned back to step up behind Thorbjorn as he opened the door.

Sigvin was standing red-eyed on the front step, her hand raised as if to knock again. She pulled her hand back, twisting it up with her other mittened hand as if she were in the height of anxiety.

"Come in," Thorbjorn said, stepping back to let her into the mudroom. She came in, then wavered uncertainly before pulling off her mittens and starting to unbutton her heavy wool coat.

"How are your parents doing?" I asked.

"As well as can be expected," Sigvin said. "I told them I would join them at Brigida's house when I'm done here."

"I don't think we'll keep you long," I said, glancing over at Thorbjorn.

"It depends on what she has to say," he told me.

"Of course," Sigvin said as she hung up her coat, then slipped out of her boots.

"Come into the kitchen," I said to her. "I'll pour you a cup of coffee, and you can have a cinnamon roll if you like."

I had a sudden flash of memory, of that first day after my mother had passed. She had been sick for a long time before, in fact for most of my life, but it had still felt jarringly sudden when she was gone. I couldn't imagine how Sigvin felt, losing a twin with no warning. I was sure that coffee and cinnamon rolls would be of no real help, but it was all I had. And when it had been me in the first stages of grief, I don't think I would've eaten at all if people hadn't kept foisting food onto me. I hadn't tasted a bit of it, but it had kept me alive, I suppose.

Sigvin took the mug of coffee from me, then set it down untasted on the table in front of her. I plated up one of the steaming hot rolls and set it in front of her as well, but she didn't even seem to notice.

"Where should I start?" she asked as Thorbjorn and I sat down across from her.

"At the beginning," Thorbjorn said. Sigvin seemed to find this answer distressing, and I couldn't blame her. On top of everything, she was supposed to figure out where the beginning had been?

"We know that you went to the mead hall for dinner. That you and Nefja met Nilda and Kara there," I said.

"Yes," Sigvin said. "It was going to be just the four of us, catching up on things." Her cheeks flushed a dark pink and her fingers started pulling bits off the cinnamon roll, and I suspected what the four of them had been catching up on was perhaps related to me and my sudden move into the village and what it might meant for them.

They had wanted to talk about me when I wasn't there. Perfectly natural, and yet a little strange to hear about after the fact.

"Was going to be," Thorbjorn repeated. "That isn't what happened?"

"Well, when we got there, Roarr was already there," she said, still looking at the roll she was breaking to bits. "I guess you already know that Nefja has... had a thing for Roarr."

"Lots of women do, since Lisa passed," Thorbjorn observed.

"I suppose," Sigvin said. "Maybe she wasn't more obsessed than the others, I don't know. But she was my sister, and this new fixation she had on Roarr was hard for me to grasp, I think."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"It was so sudden and so strong," Sigvin said. "I sometimes thought... but no. Never mind."

"You thought someone was doing some magic?" Thorbjorn guessed.

"Roarr has no talent for magic that I've ever seen," I assured her.

"I know. But he was with Halldis for a long time. And she gave him at least one charm. There might have been others," she said.

I glanced over at Thorbjorn in alarm. Was this possible?

"His home was searched by the council, myself, and Nora Torfudottir," he said, which was news to me. "He had nothing of the sort still in his possession. We made sure of this."

"And I've been near the two of them before, Nefja and Roarr," I said. "If something magical was flowing between them, I would've seen it."

Sigvin sighed. "That might've been a comfort to know, yesterday."

"Do you think Roarr had something to do with this?" I asked, but Thorbjorn raised a hand.

"Please, no conjecture or accusations. Not yet. Just tell us what happened last night," he said.

Sigvin nodded her understanding. "We ate dinner, the four of us. Nefja was very worked up. She was clearly trying to get Roarr's attention, but he never noticed her. The only person he even looked up at was the serving girl who was bringing him more food."

"Did he seem preoccupied?" Thorbjorn asked.

"Not particularly. Just hungry, I guess," Sigvin said. "So the four of us finished dinner, and Nilda and Kara went home. Kara was looking for someone who never turned up, and Nilda was just done for the night, I guess." Her cheeks were coloring again, but if Thorbjorn noticed, he said nothing.

"You and Nefja stayed to drink?" I asked.

"Well, not like that," she said. "I mean, it wasn't my intention to let my sister get smashed. We were just going to have a mug of ale by the fire. I didn't think I was going to get her out of there before Roarr left, and it looked like he was nearly done eating, so I was just playing for time."

"Did he leave?" Thorbjorn asked.

"Eventually, but that's not what happened next," Sigvin said. "Someone else came in."

"Loke?" I guessed.

She looked surprised I would mention him. Then she was flushing guiltily again. "No. Well, eventually yes, but at that moment no. It was a crowd of the men who usually drink at Aldís' mead hall at the western edge of town. Thorbjorn knows the one I mean."

"I do too, actually," I said. And I could imagine the sort of men she meant. The men I had met when I had been there had been very much against mixing with people not from Villmark. They hadn't liked me much, but they had liked Loke, Nilda and Kara little more. Not only did they not like people outside of Villmarkers, they didn't like Villmarkers who associated with non-Villmarkers either.

Which would make the mead hall by the gardens a very odd choice for their nightly libations.

"Names?" Thorbjorn asked.

"Báfurr. Raggi. Skefill. A few others I didn't recognize," she said.

"I've met Raggi," I said to Thorbjorn.

"I know the others," he said to me. Then to Sigvin, "any idea why they were at Ullr's place? It's not their usual hangout."

Sigvin sighed again, but her breath wavered this time, as if a sob might be in the offing. But she held it back. Her eyes were glassy but without tears. "They were there because of Nefja."

Thorbjorn and I both sat up straighter at the same time. This sounded like a proper lead at last.

"Why?" Thorbjorn asked.

"One of them, Báfurr, is infatuated with her," Sigvin said. "We used to go to Aldís' hall from time to time, the two of us, just for a change. Her mead is quite good, and she roasts elk like no one else. But we got a lot of attention there. Not many single women go there. At first it was nice, you know, but it got to be a bit too much. I got tired of it first, but I stayed anyway, not to be the one who spoils things, you know? But as with most things, once Nefja was done with that place, that was it. She doesn't change her mind once she's made it. I don't think we'd ever have gone back there. So I guess they came looking for us. Or rather, Báfurr brought the others around in search of Nefja."

"So there was a confrontation?" I asked.

"No, at first they played it like they were just there to drink together," Sigvin said. "They sat near us, but not obnoxiously so. I know they were watching us, but they weren't being aggressive with it. I figured Roarr would finish his food, then Nefja could finish her ale, and we'd go home."

"But?" I prompted.

"But that serving girl kept bringing Roarr more and more food. I don't know how he was packing it all in or why he didn't tell her to stop already, but he didn't. And Nefja's ale was gone, and before I could say anything she was ordering another."

"Two ales isn't so bad," I said.

"Well, halfway through the second was when she started to talk," Sigvin said, flushing embarrassedly again.

"To whom?" Thorbjorn asked.

"Well, I suppose to me, but it was more like she was ranting to the whole room," she said. "I mean, she wanted Roarr to hear her, I'm sure, but in the process she was announcing to everyone in the hall that she was fed up with waiting around and either she was going to end the evening with a more formal sort of attachment or she'd be giving it up all together."

"How did Roarr take that?" Thorbjorn asked.

"He didn't even seem to hear her," Sigvin shrugged. "But Báfurr most certainly did. And he came over to sit right next to Nefja. He took her hand and tried to plead his case. He'd done that before, at Aldís' place. But he's an old-fashioned guy. He was all about what he had and what he could offer her in terms of comfort and a good solid house, that sort of thing."

"Not what Nefja was looking for," I guessed.

"Well, it's not like she doesn't want all that," Sigvin said. Then her voice choked as she corrected herself. "Didn't. It's not like she didn't want that. But she didn't want to marry just for material things. But Báfurr doesn't have a romantic bone in his body. I don't think he could tell her what she wanted to hear in a million years, because I don't think it ever occurred to him that she would want to hear something else. Something about her beauty or glowing personality or anything besides what a good breeder of sons she might be."

"So she rebuked him?" I guessed.

"She didn't mean to be harsh," Sigvin said. "But she's let him down gently so many times before, and she was at the bottom of that second ale now. She was a bit blunter than she needed to be, and I could see he was angry at her words. But he didn't say anything in return, just went back to his friends. He could tell as well as I that she had had too much to drink. Words spoken in such circumstances can be forgiven in the morning, right?"

"It depends on the person, and on the words," Thorbjorn said.

"What happened then?" I asked.

"Then," Sigvin said with another shaky inhale of breath, "she ordered a third ale. And after a single swig of that, she crossed the room to throw herself on Roarr's lap."

Thorbjorn tried to bite back a laugh, but didn't quite succeed. "Sorry. But I bet Roarr couldn't ignore her then."

"No, he could not," Sigvin said. "And she was still talking. Words I knew she would die of embarrassment if she even remembered speaking them in the morning. Roarr looked frankly alarmed, like he didn't know how to get rid of her. He didn't want to touch her, but he couldn't get her off his lap without doing so. And I was at loose ends as well. I was afraid if I tried to pull her away that she'd start making a real scene and neither of us would be welcome back ever again."

"It was that bad?" I asked, wincing a little in empathy.

"It was that bad," she agreed, but then she brightened a little. "And then Loke was there. He came in the door, looked around, and it was like he knew at once everything that was going on. He saw me, hovering uselessly, and Nefja driving Roarr out of his mind with embarrassment. I think he even saw Báfurr watching everything with a glower as he nursed his own anger.

"He took all that in, and then came down the steps and caught Nefja by her hand and just twirled her up off of Roarr's lap and into his own arms, like he wanted to dance with her. He spun her around and around, and I was a bit worried that she might get sick on him. But she just grinned like it was all a mad game. Meanwhile Loke keeps hissing at Roarr out of the corner of his mouth to run out of there.

"But Roarr just sat there like he was paralyzed. I had to get him to his feet and herd him out the back door, through the kitchens. Once he was outside, it was like the cold air just snapped him awake. He ran off towards his house, shouting his thanks back to me."

I glanced over at Thorbjorn, but he was listening to Sigvin's story too intently to notice me.

"Was that the last of it?" I asked.

"Sadly, no," Sigvin said. "I went back inside to find that Loke and Nefja had stopped dancing. He had put her into a chair, and at first I thought that was for the best. But then I saw that Báfurr was there again, talking to her. I tried to run to her, but the room had gotten a lot more crowded, and I had to push my way past too many people. I was too late. When I got there, she was giving Báfurr an even more explicit piece of her mind, and this time his face was so flushed with anger it was practically purple. I won't repeat what she said, but her contempt for him and everything he was offering her was very, very clear."

"What did he do?" I asked.

"In that moment, nothing," she said. "He went back to his friends yet again, and I pleaded with Loke to help me get her home before she started talking again or worse get ahold of another mug of ale."

"So Loke and you got Nefja home and in bed," I said.

"I don't think I could've done it without him. He was a lifesaver," she said. Then she seemed to hear her own words, and the color drained from her face. The corners of her eyes were starting to twitch, and I didn't think she was going to succeed in fighting back the tears this time.

"Loke is a good man," Thorbjorn said, words I never thought I'd ever hear him say. But they had a calming effect on Sigvin.

"That he is," she agreed. Her eyes were still sad, but they were more wistful than grieving now. "But that's the end of my story. I put Nefja to bed in her room. She was already out of it, I really don't know how she could've gotten up again, and that's the truth. I went to bed myself and was asleep before my head even hit the pillow. Well, you yourselves know how many times you had to knock to wake me. And I was nowhere near as bad off as Nefja was."

"When Loke left your house, did you see which way he went?" Thorbjorn asked.

Sigvin frowned. "I don't know that I remember," she said. "I did invite him to stay, since it was so late and so cold that night. We have a spare room, you know. But he turned me down. He said he had to get home to his sister." Then she put her fingers over her eyes. At first I was afraid she was breaking down again, but when she dropped her hands again, I realized she had only been doing that as a way to focus on her memory. "He left through an alley," she said. "Going north. Not towards his house, but not towards Roarr's either."

"Towards the well in the center of town?" I asked.

"Well, that is north of us, but there are more direct ways to get there than down the alleyways," she said.

"You never heard the scream?" Thorbjorn asked. "Or the door opening and closing when your sister left?"

"I barely heard you two knocking," she said, shaking her head. "I don't want to think about someone deliberately hurting my sister, but I can't imagine her getting up again and going out. And to do it so quietly I didn't hear it?" She shook her head again.

"It's a mystery," I said.

"Are you sure it wasn't an accident?" she asked.

"I'm not sure of anything yet," I admitted.

"Well, I'm sure of one thing," Sigvin said, raising her chin defiantly. "I'm sure that whatever happened, you'll get to the bottom of it. I know that deep in my bones."

I didn't know what to say to that. Thank her? I was nowhere near as confident as she was.

Apologize in advance for letting her down?

I started to open my mouth, still not sure what words I was going to summon, but Thorbjorn stopped me by resting a hand on my knee under the table. While I was too startled by his touch to speak, he said, "thank you, Sigvin. You may join your parents now, with our condolences. We'll let you know if we have any further questions."

"Of course," she said. Her eyes darted from him to me and back again, but she left without saying a word.