Page 45 of Claimed By the Viking

“In truth, I’ve lost hope with Viggo.” She stared into her lap. “I wanted so much more. I wanted everything! But...”

“You love him?” Bothild asked.

Signy nodded.

“And he feels the same?” Bothild added.

“He does!” Signy spoke vehemently. “Yet, he insists he’s not good enough, that I’m better off without him!”

“Men have strange notions.” Bothild shook her head sadly. “His melancholy shan’t last. There’s no telling him that, though, is there? He’ll believe what he’s convinced of.”

Signy’s pulse raced. “What are you saying, Bothild? Have you… glimpsed something? In a dream? You’ve seen Viggo with his sight restored?”

Bothild seldom spoke of her gifts, but Signy knew of them. She’d pulled her aside, some days before the terrible beating her father had given, and tried to warn her, saying she was in danger. She’d tried, even, to persuade her mother to let Signy come and stay with her. Ulva had paid no mind, naturally.

“Nothing so clear.” Bothild cocked her head to one side. “But I see other things. Him with a child, laughing, tossing the babe into the air. A fanciful notion or a glimpse of what may be…”

Signy’s heart leapt.

Would that it comes to pass!

“You’re carrying already?” Bothild fixed her eyes upon Signy.

“I may be…” A flush of happiness rose in her. Frida had seen it, and now Bothild.

“And what do you wish, Signy? To make this man a true husband… a father to your child?”

“More than anything!” Signy clasped her hands tightly. “But he’s full of worries and woe. He doesn’t see a future for us.”

Bothild looked thoughtful. “Give it time. The prospect of fatherhood may gentle his mind. What else has he told you?” Bothild was suddenly serious. “Of the men who are with him? Of their intentions?”

“They know we’re alone here, that something befell our menfolk, that those who left aren’t coming back.” Signy bit her lip. There had been a tacit agreement between the women that naught was to be said of the island’s history. It was evident she wasn’t the only one who’d broken that unspoken vow, though it was likely those men who had more freedom to move among them would have drawn their own conclusions.

“They’ve been making repairs to their ship,” Signy went on. “They’re planning to leave. Soon, Viggo thinks.”

“I guessed as much. ‘Tis for the best. Letting them stay has been… unwise. They’re unpredictable.” Bothild seemed to be about to say more but merely pursed her lips.

Signy had the distinct feeling the older woman was holding something back, but she didn’t feel brave enough to pry.

When Bothild spoke again, it was with a practical air.

“I must speak with their jarl and agree a plan of action for their departure. ‘Tis ridiculous for them to skulk about. Betterto be open and honest. ‘Twas foolish of me to think they could be controlled or that the loyalty of the women who took them in would remain undivided. No doubt, some will want to leave with them. That I can’t prevent. Their destiny is their own.”

“But how will we manage? If a great number of our women take this opportunity?” Signy had inspected the damaged boat. It was fitted for sixteen oars, but the hull was wide—capable of carrying a large quantity of goods. Room enough to take at least half the women on the island, along with their possessions. More perhaps. Of course, some women would never leave. Høy was their home, and they were too old in years to imagine another.

“We’ll do what we must.” Bothild gave a sigh of resignation. “All things have their end. If this is Høy’s destiny, it shall be as it was before anyone settled here.”

And if those with children leave, that time will come sooner than any of us have foreseen. Does the island already sense what lies ahead and mourns for us?

Signy shook that thought away. ‘Twas idle to contemplate such things. Nevertheless, a deep sadness settled upon her, thinking of her child playing alone on the sands.

‘Twas late inthe afternoon when Signy departed Bothild’s hut. They’d spoken much of Viggo, with Bothild suggesting that a true ceremony be conducted to join them as husband and wife.

Signy had gone to Bothild believing all was lost, but the older woman’s encouragement had heartened her.

Viggo had professed love and intent to protect her. ‘Twas only his feelings of inadequacy that held him back. His belief that he might hurt her was misplaced, she was certain.

If she might cajole him into undertaking the ritual of wedlock—persuading him that it was for her sake alone and that of the unborn babe—mightn’t the solemnity of it work some transformation?

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