Synne brings the news

“Estrid! Estrid!”

Synne came tearing down the corridor and through the half-​​open door to Estrid’s bedchamber, but she stopped when she saw the shadows beneath the eyes that Estrid slowly turned up to her. In her excitement she had forgotten that Estrid must not be disturbed.

“Estrid,” she said softly. “A letter!” She held up the small parchment.

“From Brede?” Estrid asked. Hope spread across her face and illuminated its shadows.

“No – from Eirik!”

“Eirik!” She smiled. Now she looked truly happy, and Synne, relieved, sat beside her.

The girls opened the parchment and stared down at it in wonder. Neither could read a word.

“What does it say?” Estrid breathed.

“They had their baby!” Synne squealed. “It’s a boy, born on the Ides of March, and they named him Olaf!”

“Olaf! Oh! It is my father’s name.”

“And my mother’s father’s name!” Synne cried.

“That’s so!” Estrid laughed. “So, everyone is happy!”

“Oh, I wish I could see him!” Synne sighed. “I wonder what he looks like.”

“What else does Eirik say?”

“Nothing. Only greetings and so on. And he says that Sigi and the baby are well. And he too, of course. And they are living in your father’s house.”

“It is a fine house,” Estrid said, “but so, it was moldy from being shut up so long. I hope they aired it out before the baby came.”

“I’m certain they did.”

They stared at the letter again. It was a remarkable thing – a scrap of parchment that had traveled so far to tell them this news. Eirik had once held it in his hands, and now it was in theirs.

“Do you suppose Olaf will ever meet your baby?” Synne asked suddenly. “They’re twice cousins.”

“If it’s a boy, I’m certain he will. Boys may travel everywhere. If it’s a girl, we must hope Olaf will come to visit someday. Olaf!” she laughed. “Oh, it’s too unfair. Eirik has a baby and I may not see it.”

“I know! I’m an aunt, and perhaps I shall never meet my nephew. And Eirik and Sigi won’t see your baby either.”

“Eirik might see my baby, if he comes to visit.”

“And if Brede lets him get near the house! But I think they should forgive one another now, since they are brothers. Wouldn’t it be funny if baby Olaf looks like Brede, and if your baby looks like Eirik? Won’t Eirik and Brede be furious!” she laughed. “And if they grow up and become great friends!”

“I hope my baby looks like Brede,” Estrid said hoarsely.

“Oh, Estrid…” Synne stopped laughing.

It was so difficult to speak to Estrid these days. She wanted to talk about her baby, but one never knew what innocent little remark would be enough to send her off into tears. She was convinced that the sight of Synne’s uncle cutting himself was some omen of Brede’s death. At times she seemed to believe him already dead.

And the other ladies, though they didn’t have a particular fear for Brede, were worried about Estrid’s baby. Everyone knew that being frightened by a cow or a dog or a pig could have various damaging effects on an unborn child. Everyone knew that Mistress Hogge’s last baby had been born deformed because she had been startled by one of the plow horses when it had got a fly in its ear and had smashed one of the stalls at the market. But no one knew what catastrophe would befall a baby whose mother had been frightened by a bloody spectacle such as they said the priest had been.

Synne only hoped that her brother would be home before the baby came. Somehow, she knew, if only Estrid could see Brede, then everything would be all right.