It was not an easy undertaking, endeavoring to keep a lively woman bedridden, but Epona had orders to do just that. It was, in fact, by her father's injunction that Aila remained abed the entire three weeks that followed her peculiar affliction. She was stubborn, restless, and easily brought to temper, but Epona was the only one who dared contradict her mistress. Although the lady vehemently declaimed her confinement, the thrall was unmoved and so no one braved the master's chamber, for fear of its irascible inmate, save she and her little Brenna.

"Has there been any word as to-"

"Aila, you have asked me that thrice in the last hour! You must know that if there were any news of the men, it would be brought to you directly. Now rest awhile." Epona suspired loudly, her mouth turned down in exasperation.

"I have rested quite enough, you pushy upstart!" Aila clenched her jaw, dropping her head forcefully against the pillow before scorching the ceiling with her furious glare.

At the sound of Epona's bark of laughter, Aila's lips too began to quirk despite her best efforts. Erelong they were both chuckling unrestrainedly, Epona tickled by Aila's absurd petulance — so unlike her friend — and the latter with hearty self-disgust.

"Oh, Epona, if I were not now languishing in weary inactivity, I should have bent you of my knee long ago, you cheeky wench."

"You are more like to suffocate than discipline me under that large belly of yours!" At the unwitting mention of her friend's swollen girth, Epona became sober, disgruntled that she had momentarily forgotten her intention to abstain from aught that appertained to Aila's child.

She did not like to think of what creature had expanded the girl's womb and, since having promised the lass to curb all negative talk on the matter, they had thus, by mutual understanding, chosen instead to avoid discussing the subject at all.

No doubt sensing Epona's thoughts, Aila sighed as she turned her head into the furs. It must indeed have been vexing to do naught but endure inactivity all day, but the estate had been functioning well enough without her overseeing the daily operation of her lands and people in the jarl's absence. It was already evening, notwithstanding the reigning daylight yet infusing the countryside, and the household was settling down for the evening meal. All was dark within the longhouse, but for the lamps and hearth fire lending their glow.

"Do you hear that?"

Epona looked up from her task of swaddling Brenna for the night and listened as a distant peal of thunder rumbled and vibrated through the air. "A summer squall," she noted, glancing back down at her sleepy daughter. "I hope Brenna will not be fretting all night if it does move in."

The weather broke suddenly, even as she voiced her hope, and the sound of torrents gushing down the roof and pelting the timber walls made further conversation difficult. However, Brenna was undeterred and, with her belly filled, she closed her eyes as soon as she was secured in her swaddling. There was naught to be heard but the roaring of the storm.

"There it is again!" Aila had sat up and cocked an ear intently.

Epona, by now frowning, strained her own ear to listen. "What are you-"

"Hush!" Aila held her hand up to preclude further discourse, and after a long pause opened her mouth to explain her abrupt behavior. But what she would avow to hearing she did not say and promptly bit her lip instead.

"Mistress!" Olga flew abruptly into the chamber, a look of distress pinching the little slave girl's countenance. "You must come quickly!"

"Is it the men?" Aila jumped nimbly from her bed despite the cumbersome weight of her engorged waist.

"No, my lady! We thought it was the wind at first, but when we opened the door...oomph!" Olga was unceremoniously thrust aside as her mistress barreled through the chamber entrance, far too excited to wait around for the girl's explanation.

"Your father said to stay abed!" Epona leapt after her charge, brushing past poor Olga in her haste to catch her agile patient. "Stay and watch Brenna," she threw over her shoulder at the young woman still pressed against the door frame. When she reached the entrance to the longhouse, it was to see Aila standing frozen at the open door, ostensibly determined to catch every single drop of rain with her clothes and hair, as she stared into the night. "Are you mad! Close the bloody door, or you'll catch your death of cold!"

It was then she heard the wailing and gasped with the shock of dawning understanding, watching as Aila bent over to lift something from the threshold.

It turned out to be a basket beneath a shroud of linen. Aila held the vessel to her chest and walked briskly to the hearth fire as one of the servants closed the door to bar the rain from further flooding the entryway. Once beside the flames, she pulled the layers of sodden linens away to reveal what all had already guessed would be concealed within.

Epona was at her friend's back, peering down at the small, bawling little babe thrusting its limbs in frantic protest of it's bedraggled state. It's little face was red with the efforts of its woe, the light smattering of silver down plastered atop its skull.

"By the gods! Who would do such a thing!" Aila lifted the drenched child and held the miserable, wee babe to her breast, murmuring softly into it's small ear as she endeavored to console it to silence. "Kori," she called to a stalwart servant boy, "go outside and see if you can find the owner of this poor creature."

The boy did as he was instructed and, upon returning, reported that the area was deserted completely. By the time he had wrung the water from his cap and divested himself of his soaking habiliments, Aila had calmed the child to whimpering.

"We both know to whom it belongs," Epona finally announced.

"Aye," said her lady, "that we do." Aila then carried the child to her chamber and wrapped it in clean wool after she had rubbed it's blue flesh back to a healthful, ruddy color. "How dare she be so callous and cruel! That viper knew well what she was about and had planned to abandon the child here with me all along!"

"Yes." Epona agreed.

"Did you know!" Aila stabbed her with a disgusted look.

"I had suspected." She sighed and shook her head, utterly sorry for the babe — at having the misfortune to be spawned by one such as Brynja. "The only love its mother has ever shown it was to have the decency to abandon it into to your care."

"What?! No!" Aila hid her face in her hands, setting the baby aside. Upon having the warmth of secure arms removed from its body, the child took up its previous squalling. "There there, shush now, little one." She bit her lip in indecision, however, she could not long deny its plaintive entreaty and took it up once more.

"What will you do with it?" Epona rubbed her arms uncertainly.

"I suppose we should stop calling her 'it' and give her a name." Aila sighed aloud, her breath hitching as the tears formed at the corners of her eyes. "Further than that? I suppose I shall think of something."

They both sat cross-legged, the baby girl between them, as they considered the unhappy twist of its tiny mouth and the pale, watery stains at its cheeks.

"Heida," said the mistress at last, brushing a finger gently down the infant's miniature nose.

"Tis a pretty name," Epona affirmed.

"It means 'noble'. She is after all a nobleman's daughter, although she will always bear the stigma of her bastardy and belong neither in that exalted caste, nor in the lower orders."

"I pity her lot already."

"Yes. Unloved and motherless."

"I would not be so sure of that," said Epona knowingly.

As the effete lamps flickered out, the oil all but burnt away, Epona reentered the chamber where she had left her sleeping daughter and mistress. The former had slumbered throughout the worst of the newcomer's fretting, and the latter was now also asleep on her side. Epona crept silently towards the bed and leaned over Aila, smiling as she noted the way the girl hugged the newborn to her chest. Its bundled feet were resting at Aila's pregnant belly and its head was turned slightly towards the woman who now held her in a maternal embrace.

"There now," Epona whispered to Heida, her secretive words carrying no further than the baby's unconscious ear. "Not unloved; and not motherless after all..."

❅

"My lady!"

Epona glanced towards the door and Aila sat up suddenly from where she had lain recumbent, both of them instantly remarking Olaf's breathless exuberance as he emerged through the doorway.

"What is it, Olaf?" Aila's eyes widened hopefully the same moment Epona's dimmed.

"They are come at last," said he with a wide grin. "The men spotted the first ships this last hour!"

"Is the eagle among them?"

"Aye, madam, it is!"

"I must go to them!" Aila began to push herself off the bed, but was quickly prevented by Epona who rushed to her side and barred her progress. "Epona," she warned, "you had better get out of my way..."

"Please do not go yourself! Send someone in your stead! You ought not even to have even rushed to the door last night, never mind the beach today!"

"You cannot be serious!"

"Nay, tis you who cannot be so! Give over, Aila," she snorted. "Or would you whelp your child on the blasted cliffs, you silly woman!"

"She is right," Olaf averred firmly, yet clearly disapproved of Epona's familiarity. "Harald, and your father come to that, would have my head if I allowed you out of the house."

"Let me go," Epona offered gently. "I shall give you a full and faithful accounting and will be sure to drag Orvar back with me."

"If he will let you," Aila grumbled. "Very well." She glanced towards both sleeping children. "I will watch over your Brenna till you return."

Epona nodded, tucking her dark hair more firmly beneath the kerchief, and followed Olaf from the room. He neither slowed his pace nor spoke to her as they, and the other slaves that could be spared to convey any merchandise home, marched to the nausts where the ships would soon be pulled ashore.

It was almost midsummer now and the undulating downs and rolling pastures were buried beneath clouds of red, blue, and yellow wildflowers. The birches and larches abutting the path they trod along were festooned with green beards of lichen that hung from the branches. To an impressionable eye, these ancient trees seemed to effect an illusion of old men reposing in the morning sunlight that broke through the cloudy vestiges of last night's tempest. Even the little red toadstools, with their white spots protruding like tiny scales, had popped up overnight from the shaded underground to enjoy the balmy day.

But Epona saw none of it. Neither the prospect nor the animals enriching the scene could entice her mind to wander, for it was less favorably engaged at present. She wondered instead at what she might discover when the eagle ship attained the pebbled shoreline. She had been visited during the small hours of the morning, when the rains had calmed, by a foreboding dream.

In the vision she had seen darkness and felt her lungs fill with water. When she awoke, it was with the impression of a large raven pulling an eagle from the ocean and carrying it into the sky. Before they disappeared over a gleaming crescent — some sort of bridge — streaked with vibrant hues, she saw another bird with broad, black wings dive into the water. She still did not understand its meaning.

But the waiting itself was not long endured; they soon reached their destination to see the fleet already beached and the shore a hive of activity. Women were weeping in their mens' arms, children running around excitedly and cargo was being offloaded exactly as was done the year before. Epona recalled her own introduction to this foreign landscape and felt her heart twist in sympathy for the slaves she now saw disembarking, their wan faces drawn and wet with ocean brine and tears.

"Ragnar!" Olaf waved his hands excitedly.

She flinched as he shouted her nemesis' name and watched as Harald's brother looked up, from where he was embracing Eydís and their newborn son, Søren, ere he jogged towards them. Epona, meanwhile, made to walk off, the better to avoid the man and his dyspeptic young wife.

"Stay where you are," Olaf commanded her. While he and Ragnar grasped forearms, the former grinning and the latter frowning, Olaf beset the man with a myriad questions, so much so that Ragnar could not get a word in edgeways. "But where is Harald?" And finally he was quiet long enough to hear the answer.

The corners of Ragnar's mouth were instantly weighted with grief as he blinked the tears from his eyes, struggling to conceal his sorrow. He then turned to Eydís so that he could divide his grim scrutiny betwixt the pair of them. "I know not how to begin, but..."

"Ragnar?" Eydís grabbed his hands as though the gesture might steady his voice. "What is it? Where is-"

"Harald is dead!" The words boomed and echoed across the strand, permeating the crowd with shock and horror.

"Gods, no!"

"What happened?"

"How can this be?!"

By piecemeal degrees the murmurs turned to shouting and the shouting became wailing. Soon the entire beachfront was awash with more tears than seawater itself. Throughout the din of mourning, Gudrun's shrieks overpowering the others, Epona remained stoic, watching Harald's mother with only a small twinge of regret, for she now knew what it was to love one's child. There was but one question she wanted answered just now.

"Where is Orvar!" The force of her inquiry was entirely projected towards Ragnar, but those within hearing also turned to listen.

With his teeth clenched, Ragnar ignored her and addressed Olaf instead. "The storm came upon us suddenly yestereve, before we had thought to seek shallower waters." He stopped a moment and swallowed whatever restricted his speech. "It happened far too swiftly..."

"What did?" Olaf had by now dragged his hands through his tawny hair one too many times and it now stood as erect as a cockscomb.

"Orvar fell overboard; and Harald jumped in after him. They are both lost to us."

All was silent after that, except for the keening and woeful orisons, for there was nothing to say. No expletive was foul enough, and no cry loud enough to convey the inequity of the life lost — for her part, she cared nothing for Harald's and so only considered Orvar's. But Olaf sunk to the sand, staring in shock.

"And Eirik? Ívarr? Where are they?!" Olaf had his head buried in his hands. "Poor Ívarr! Another child dead before their time."

"Ívarr took his boy home. He needs to becalm one child afore going to the other to relay the news." Ragnar bit his fist to stop from choking and once he had retained control, he looked into the direction of his late brother's home. "I will tell her."

Epona closed her eyes and shuddered as she thought of what she had now to do: carry the news to Aila. "No, I must go to Aila." She did not wait to be given leave, merely turned from them and began pushing her feet through the shale.

"You?!" Eydís gasped, affronted by some or other slight of her own imagining. "We are her family, not you!" The infant in her arms began to whimper at hearing its mother's voice become increasingly more hateful.

"Do as you wish," Epona replied over her shoulder, shrugging nonchalantly, but continued nonetheless up the beach. "But I must hasten home."

"Halt, damn you!" 

"I will not."

"By Thor, you will!" With that, Eydís abruptly transferred her son into Ragnar's custody and then grabbed Epona by the scruff of her neck and shoved her to the ground, scratching and slapping her till her flesh was raw and gouged in various locations.

Finally, Ragnar pulled his wife from Epona's back, restraining both her arms with one of his — seeing that the other still held his mewling baby — while Eydís glared her hatred at the thrall. Once she had lifted herself off the sand, Epona continued her hike up the incline, wiping grit from her broken lip and picking tidal weeds from her hair.

"You forgot this, you little slattern." Eydís hurled the kerchief at her, but Epona did not turn to retrieve it, eager to be gone from the maddened virago.

And how ironic that she, Epona, should be imprecated by this one, for had not Eydís borne a child less than nine months into her matrimony. Silly tart thinks to call me names! The sooner she was gone from her sight the better; lest she bury her nails in Eydís' eyes.

But her luck was tenuous at best, and she soon became aware that it was not only Olaf that kept abreast of her. Ragnar, her inveterate enemy, and his awful spouse were also making the journey with her. She consoled herself that it was at least not likely that he would toss her into the shrubbery and rut atop her again; not with his wife and son nearby.

It should have been he that died, not Harald! She saw that now. Though Aila's husband had been the one to cause her near miscarriage, it was Ragnar she hated above all others.

When they reached the house, Epona was told to wait outside and denied access by Olaf — though he seemed unhappy to do so.

"It should be me that tells her!" Epona cried. "You heard her! I was to be the one to deliver whatever word there was to be had."

"I know," Olaf groused. "But Ragnar is now chief..."

At hearing the truth stated, Epona froze. She had not assimilated, till this very instant, what Harald's death would mean for them. "And Eydís will be... No!" She could not even think it, let alone voice the disgusting notion.

The sound of screaming therewith blared athwart the distance that separated Epona from Aila, heralding the news of death and loss of kin. It was then Epona sobbed. She could forbear hardship better than any, but she could not bear the pain of those she loved; and she loved none more than Brenna and Aila.

"You!" Ragnar appeared in the doorway and crooked a finger at her. "Come inside, she asked for you."

As soon as she had entered the chamber, Epona rushed to Aila, wrapping her arms as tight as she dared. Her friend could not speak for the paroxysms of violent emotions wracking her frame. With obstreperous anguish, Aila wept till her face was swollen and her mattress drenched.

Epona knew not whose loss she suffered most, Orvar or Harald. She hoped the former for the latter did not deserve her tears, the murdering swine, but Orvar had been too young to see to the destruction of Epona's village last spring. Although he was certainly not innocent by blood — all those monsters had been innocent babes once. Even young Eirik would become a fiend one day... 'twas a pity; she liked him far too well.

In all that time her friend vented her heartache, Ragnar and Eydís had loitered nearby. The wife brooding silently and her husband sobbing quietly, Aila's bitter tears inciting him anew. At length he left the chamber altogether, presumedly to compose himself.

Epona cast a baleful eye at Eydís as the girl wondered about the room before eventually coming to stop beside Brenna's basket, the cooing child waving her tiny arms cheerfully within. Søren had evidently been left outside in the hall with another slave whilst his mother commiserated with Aila.

"It looks nothing like him," said she with rancor.

"Like who?" Epona growled. This was neither the time nor the place to dredge this nasty subject out into the open.

"Like Ragnar." Her face screwed up distastefully.

"That," said Aila in a voice bereaved of life, "is because he is not her father." She sounded so cold, her entire aspect deadened, as she regarded her childhood friend. "Leave, Eydís. Your presence here sickens me."

"Aila, I'm sorry! I had no right-"

"Get out!" The spark that flared to life in Aila finally sent the girl scurrying from the room, and was enough to relieve Epona some small degree. Where there was life, there was chance for revival.

Ragnar soon bolted into the room, no doubt appraised of the situation by his wife. He knelt beside Aila's bed and took both her hands into his. "You should not have had to suffer her thoughtless spite, and I am sorry for it."

"She told you what she said?" Aila asked distractedly, throwing her head back to gaze at the beams in the ceiling. It seemed as though she cared little enough for the answer, but Ragnar gave it anyway.

"I was at the door, just outside."

Aila flicked her hands to dismiss the subject and then brought her saturnine eyes back to his. "I need you, Ragnar," said she with feeling. There was such wealth of emotion there that it at first stunned Epona and bemused her brother-in-law.

"Of course," he answered, though he appeared nonplussed and yet confused as to what he was agreeing to.

"I will be chieftain in Harald's stead; I need you to support this endeavor."

Ragnar and Epona both blinked their shock and were silent, so she continued.

"When my son reaches manhood-"

"Aila, for pity's sake, be rational!" He held up a hand to stop further talk when she would have gone on, but she gently took his hand and placed it down ere she resumed divulging her intentions.

"He will take his seat of power-" she resumed, but was stopped again.

"And what if it is a daughter?!"

"It is a male child," she assured him. "I feel it to be true."

Ragnar compressed his lips together, but gestured for her to continue.

"But I need your support in this; I require that we should represent a united front so as not tempt the other clans to test our mettle."

"They will try, Aila. Especially with a woman at the helm. Our men will not like this."

"Then you will teach me to fight and help me protect me people!" Her eyes were enkindled with incipient resolve that soon blazed into outright fervor. Epona watched on, awed, as Ragnar fell under the power of her passionate and impressive radiance. "As to the men, you know as well as I that they would fain see Harald's son assume his rightful place as their chieftain; you must allow that to be true, Ragnar."

"A shield-maiden." He nodded slowly at first, but soon squared his shoulders and stood. "I will help you; but it will not be easy."

"I am not afraid, Brother." Her smile was at once stirring and frightening. "I have the gods at my back."

⭐️What do you think of Ragnar? (I changed the spelling of his name, by the way, since my computer kept trying to respell it for me...can't beat 'em? join 'em) And can you blame Eydís for her jealousy? Lastly, do you hate me for what happened to Harald? Dang it people, I cannot help what happens to my characters! They tell their own story and all I do is scribe it as best I can 😈 *sticks out tongue*⭐️