Her beautiful features were blackened and her clothes burned to tatters. Halvar felt rage welling up inside him towards the men who had done this. Revna was just entering the prime of her life. She should be about to marry Torsten and live a long and happy life with lots of babies. Instead, they would bury her tomorrow. And someone had to tell Torsten. Halvar wished he could bring his axe down upon the head of the person who had done this. Revenge would be the most satisfying thing he could do right now.
Several hours later, the dead had been collected and stored in three carts and the survivors had gathered in the barn. They were fortunate that the owner had enough food stored in the barn that they would be able to survive for a little while. Some of the older women had managed to rescue their blankets and some clothes before the flames claimed them and the young women had returned from their hiding place near the stream.
“How did you escape?” Halvar asked Thyra.
“As soon as we realized what was happening, we ran,” she replied. “Liv called us together and told us to run to our hiding place. She knew that we might get taken as slaves.”
“Revna is dead,” Leif told her.
She gasped. “I haven’t seen her all day. I was hoping that she got away somewhere else.”
“We put her in the cart with the others. Torsten is outside, guarding it. He will stay with her all night.”
Tears gathered in Thyra’s eyes and she turned away silently. On a day when she’d already lost so much, her best friend’s death was another loss that was too much to bear. She slipped outside to be alone.
Halvar looked around at those that were left. Pallavi was not among them; it was likely that the old woman had been unable to escape the fire. He felt sick as he imagined her, alone, afraid and trapped.
“What of Pallavi?” he asked. “Did anyone see her?”
“No,” they replied, one after the other.
Halvar knew it was a question that they would ask many times as they began to realize who was no longer with them. He counted the survivors and came up with forty people. Forty bodies that needed clothing and feeding with the meagre resources that remained. It was a daunting thought.
CHAPTER 5
K aarina felt a sense of satisfaction as she added another woven cloth to the pile to go to the spring markets. She and Emiline had been hard at work all winter, weaving cloth and making leather belts and bags.
“We will have plenty to sell this year,” Emiline remarked cheerfully as she surveyed their wares. “Thanks to you, I’ve been able to produce more than I usually do.” She stopped and looked thoughtfully at Kaarina. “After we buy more of the materials that we don’t make ourselves, there will be profit. I think it would be fair if you kept half of it. After all, you’ve worked hard and I have far more to sell than I normally do. Yes. That shall be how I pay you.”
“Pay me?” squeaked Kaarina.
“Of course. You’re not a thrall. You’ve worked hard for your lodging and it’s only fair that you have some money of your own.”
“Oh, thank you, Emiline!” exclaimed Kaarina. “In my village, I would work hard and get nothing. That’s the way it is. Women’s labor has little value.”
“Well, not for me,” answered Emiline. “We do value the work that women do. And if they work hard and earn money, it is only right that they get to keep it.”
“Well, that is one of your beliefs that I shall not argue with,” laughed Kaarina. She couldn’t imagine having her own money to spend as she pleased.
That afternoon when she went to see Eira, the girls couldn’t stop talking about the upcoming markets. Kaarina and Eira had never been to the markets before and they listened wide-eyed as Sigrid and Frida tried to describe what they would see.
“There are skalds that play beautiful music and recite poetry,” said Sigrid.
“And we will sleep in a gizelt,” added Frida.
“There are so many things to buy!” Sigrid told them with sparkling eyes. “Of course, you must have money. But it is fun to look.”
“And not only at the wares,” sniggered Frida, digging Sigrid in the ribs.
Sigrid blushed. “There are many young men at the markets,” she giggled.
“Many marriages are arranged between people from the villages,” explained Frida. “Of course, our parents prefer us to meet someone we like but that happens sometimes at the markets, too. Just last year, our friend Helga married a young man she met while her family was selling dried fish!”
Kaarina and Eira looked at one another. It seemed that a visit to the markets was a highlight in this part of the world.
“But if you have nothing to sell, you stay home,” Sigrid said. “So, we’d better keep making things to sell. I would not wish to miss the markets for anything!”
“Only the old people stay home,” Frida told them. “They care for the animals while everyone else is gone.”
Kaarina gasped as the town of Fljót Hlið came into view. The villagers of her village had taken the coast road, a bumpy, rutted track with bog holes and the deep grooves worn by countless carts over the years. It rarely strayed out of sight of the ocean and required several water crossings manned by ferrymen who took them across in boats built for the purpose.
But many others had come in longboats. Kaarina couldn’t believe how many skútas were tied up at the wharves and along the edges of the river that met the sea. Surely there couldn’t be that many people in the world! She was glad that the people of
