A Flame Put Out (23 page)

Chapter 24

She ran blindly, holding up her arm to block the brush from hitting her wounded face. Every step felt like a hammer strike to her cheek. Selia had no memory of how she had gotten from Gunnar’s camp to the spot in the forest where Einarr had found her. But Einarr had looked over his shoulder when she had shouted, so that must be the direction of the camp.

She wore only her tunic. Einarr had pulled off her shoes and breeches when she lay senseless, and Selia had been too panicked to look for them after she stabbed him with the dagger. She cursed herself for not at least finding her shoes. A cut on her foot would slow them down, and they couldn’t afford that.

After a bit she heard the faint rumble of the sea, and turned toward the sound as she continued running. What if Einarr wasn’t dead? What if he somehow managed to drag himself back to camp? She should have pulled the dagger out to bring on a quick death, as Gunnar had threatened with Brudd. She should have pulled it out and watched him die.

There was a faint red glow up ahead. Selia stilled and hid behind a tree. The camp. She peeked around the trunk, looking for any signs of movement from Gunnar’s men, but there was nothing. Dawn hovered and everyone was still fast asleep, the fire little more than coals now.

Selia crept toward Ingrid and the children. They lay facing the fire, bundled in their cloaks. A man rolled over, snorting, and Selia froze. She stood quietly for several heartbeats and watched the man until she was sure he had gone back to sleep. She finally knelt beside Ingrid and put a hand on her shoulder.

Ingrid’s eyes flew open and Selia covered her mouth before she could cry out. A shocked expression came over Ingrid’s face as she realized it was her. Selia removed her hand.

“What happened to your face?” Ingrid whispered.

Selia ignored the question. “We have to leave. Now.”

“Selia—”

“
Now
, Ingrid. Carry Eydis so she doesn’t cry.”

Selia woke the boys. They both gaped at the sight of her face but she held a finger to her lips to keep them quiet. She grabbed the satchel that held their meager belongings and pulled the boys into the forest, with Ingrid behind, carrying Eydis.

Geirr looked as though he were about to burst into tears. As soon as they were clear of the camp he took the satchel from Selia and slung it over his shoulder. “
Mamai
, your face!”

“It’s nothing. I fell.”

“How did you fall?” Faolan asked suspiciously.

“I had a spell. I ran into the woods so the men wouldn’t see me. I fell.”

“You’ve never fallen before.”

Selia turned toward Faolan, biting her lip against the pain of the movement. “It was dark.”

Ingrid piped up from behind them, huffing slightly as she carried a sleeping Eydis. “Why are we following the beach? We need to go inland or Gunnar will find us.”

Selia was well aware of this. But somewhere, lying in the forest, was Einarr. Either dead or dying. They would have to follow the coastline far enough to get past where he’d fallen. Then they could turn inland. “We will. Soon.”

“Why are you acting so strangely? And where are your shoes and breeches?”

“Ingrid! Just walk. Please.”

They walked in silence for a time. Ingrid pouted but kept her mouth shut. Faolan was angry too; he knew Selia was hiding something. But Geirr walked beside her, quiet and protective, and after a while slipped his hand into hers. “Does it hurt?” he whispered.

“No.”

Right before dawn they turned deeper into the forest. At a creek they stopped to fill their water flasks, and Selia took a moment to dump out the contents of the satchel. All of their food was gone. They had been eating the food Gunnar had brought aboard the ship as well as whatever fish or game the men were able to catch. They had a long walk ahead of them, perhaps a sennight or more, with no food.

Selia felt hot tears well up in her eyes and she blinked them away.

The excruciating pain in her face made it difficult to think clearly. She knelt beside the creek to splash cool water on her cheek, and nearly screamed with the agony of the movement. Selia took in a shaky breath and forced herself to assess the extent of the injury.

The focus of the pain was in her left cheekbone, and the flesh of her cheek and eye felt puffy and grotesque around it. Her eye had swollen shut almost immediately so it was impossible to tell if her eyesight had been damaged. Selia’s careful fingers pressed the swelling on her cheek. Was that hardness in the middle of the puffy flesh her bone peeking through? Had her skin split from the impact of Einarr’s hand?

“I’m hungry, Mother,” Eydis said. Ingrid had been forced to wake her up and make her walk. She was a tiny girl but still, Ingrid couldn’t carry her indefinitely.

Furiously, Ingrid confronted Selia. “So? What do you suggest we do now? We have no food and we don’t know where we are. I should never have listened to you.”

“I know where we are. Not far from Dubhlinn. The forest is filled with blackberry bushes and the streams are heavy with fish. We will be fine.”

Ingrid threw her hands up in disgust. “We would have been in Dubhlinn by tonight! Now we have to walk even longer
,
eating berries?”

Selia ignored her and turned to the children. “Look,” she pointed, “I see a blackberry bush over there. Go and eat your fill, just watch out for the thorns.”

The children did as instructed and Selia turned back to deal with her infuriating stepdaughter. She gritted her teeth as she spoke. “I had a spell, Ingrid. Einarr followed me and saw it happen. He realized who I was and said he was going to tell Gunnar. I stabbed him and left him in the woods. I don’t know if he’s dead.”

Ingrid blinked at her for several long moments. “You stabbed Einarr?
You
?”

“Yes. Why is that so hard to believe?”

Ingrid snorted. “Because you’re pathetic! You can’t even pluck a chicken without crying about it. And now you’re telling me you stabbed a man three times your size, and a warrior at that?”

Selia gestured wearily. “Believe what you will, Ingrid. But I’m telling the truth. That’s the reason we couldn’t stay with Gunnar. And why we had to follow the coastline, earlier, because Einarr is in the woods and I don’t know if he’s still alive.”

Ingrid stopped laughing and her face turned serious as she studied Selia. For all her disagreeable personality, Ingrid was far from stupid. “He tried to force himself on you, didn’t he? That’s why you don’t have all your clothes.” Ingrid’s hand went up toward Selia’s cheek, making her flinch, then she dropped it back down at her side. “And he hit you.”

Selia couldn’t find it in herself to respond. She was so tired—so tired of all of it. Tired of running. Tired of pretending to be a thrall. Tired of putting up with Ingrid.

Would it have been worse to stay with Alrik in Norway? To have waited him out, knowing he would eventually be reasonable again? She had learned how to handle her husband—learned when she needed to back off and when it was safe to assert herself. She had done a good job of protecting the boys from his rages. Maybe she could have found a way to keep him from hurting Ainnileas.

Had she made a terrible decision to leave Alrik and come back to Ireland?

Selia closed her good eye and took a deep breath to center herself. Self-pity would get them nowhere. “No, Ingrid. That’s not what happened. I went into the woods to relieve my bladder and I had a spell. I fell when I was running from Einarr. Nothing more than that.”

They walked in silence for the most part. Ingrid, in a rare expression of kindness, ripped strips of fabric from the bottom of her shift so Selia could wrap them around her feet. The strips did nothing to stop the dampness from seeping in to her skin, but at least her feet were protected from the stones and sharp sticks of the forest floor.

In an effort to conceal their footsteps, they trod down the middle of the creek bed. Selia was relatively certain Gunnar’s men wouldn’t try to follow them on foot, but it couldn’t hurt to be careful.

It was doubtful Gunnar would waste time looking for them in the forest. He knew they were headed to Dubhlinn, so he would most likely sail there and wait to obtain his revenge. It would be difficult to locate Ainnileas without Gunnar finding them first.

The next morning they had a bit of luck and came upon a road. It was not well-used, but easier to walk upon nevertheless. Selia sat to rest her weary feet for a moment as Ingrid and the children went to collect some berries. Geirr had speared a fish the night before with a stick he had sharpened. His catch had been woefully small, so Ingrid and Selia had let the children share it. Now, Selia was dizzy with hunger, and no amount of berries could take the edge from those pangs.

Just as when Faolan had been a babe in her belly, she could be ravenous one moment and violently ill the next. But Selia was unsure if all was well this time. There had been a few drops of blood down her leg since Einarr had attempted to force himself on her. Not enough blood to be her flow, but enough to make her wonder if the struggle had damaged the child in some way. Was she going to lose it?

And would that be so awful? The timing of this couldn’t have been worse. It would be hard enough for Selia and the boys to start a new life without the complications of a suckling babe. Caring for her boys when they were babes had been a blur of exhaustion for Selia; midnight feedings, dirty nappies, and chasing them around to keep them from getting hurt. And that was with Hrefna and a farmstead of thralls to help. How could she possibly think she was capable of doing this alone?

Selia leapt to her feet as she heard the distinct squeak of wagon wheels headed in their direction. The canopy of trees blocked the view of the road, but there was definitely a wagon coming toward them. Selia sprinted across the road and pulled Ingrid and the children into the shelter of the forest. They sat motionless, waiting.

A few more squeaks and the wagon appeared. It was driven by an older man, small, thin and harmless-looking. His wagon was piled high with what appeared to be bolts of homespun wool fabric.

Selia did a rapid calculation of the amount of time it would take to weave so much cloth. There was more here than could reasonably be traded in a smaller market.

He must be headed to the market in Dubhlinn.

Making a quick decision, Selia emerged from the woods and darted in front of the oncoming wagon. The startled man pulled the horses to a stop.

“Boy!” the man called. “Mind the horses! I nearly ran you down.” He paused, squinting his rheumy eyes at Selia. “Are you injured? What happened to your face?”

Selia nodded and kept her head down. She spoke in as deep a voice as she could muster. “I was traveling from Norway with my mistress and her children. The ship capsized and we washed ashore. Are we near Dubhlinn?”

“Not too far. I’m headed there myself.”

Selia took a step closer. “My mistress will pay you well to hide us in your wagon and take us to Dubhlinn.”

“Where is this mistress of yours?”

Selia motioned for Ingrid and the children, and they stepped forward. The man studied them with a frown. “Your mistress is a Finngall, I see. Why would you need me to hide you in the cart? What are you running from?”

Averting her gaze, Selia brought her hand up to touch her swollen cheek. Let him come to his own conclusions.

The man was silent for some time, as though deep in thought. “I don’t like Finngalls, and I don’t want any trouble. But you seem a good lad to have protected your mistress so. I will take you just outside the city and you can walk the rest of the way.” He paused briefly. “You have silver, you say?”

They rode in the confines of the cart until well after nightfall. Ingrid and the children fell asleep, but Selia lay awake, listening to the rhythmic squeak of the wagon wheel.

Niall had owned a wagon very similar to this one. He would hitch it up and drive to Dubhlinn nearly every morning when he was home. Sometimes he would dock his ship at the smaller port at Baile Átha Cliath, and Selia and Ainnileas would return with him in the wagon to help him load his goods. They would all pile in together to go to church; Selia and Eithne in the back and Ainnileas up front with Niall.

There had been a slight irregularity in one of the wheels that caused the wagon to bump as the wheel went around. Selia had complained mightily about the bumpy wheel as a child. Now, the thought of those petty complaints made her cringe with remorse. Why hadn’t she treated her father better when she’d had the chance? Why hadn’t she spent more time with him when he was home, instead of bickering with Ainnileas?

The thought of Niall was like a knife in her heart. Her father was dead. Although back on Irish soil, Selia would never again feel Niall’s familiar embrace. He had been dead for so long, but somehow being near to the place he had died made the grief fresh again. Tears welled in her eyes and she didn’t bother brushing them away.

What she wouldn’t give to be able to see her father one more time. To tell him she loved him.

To tell him she was sorry.

The wagon squeaked to a stop. “Lad,” the man called over his shoulder, “this is as far as I will take you. Dubhlinn is just down this hill. Good luck to you and your mistress.”

Selia waited with the children in the darkness. Ingrid had been gone for quite some time; Selia could see the first blush of dawn in the sky. What was taking her so long? How hard could it be to locate Dagrun’s house? They had decided the safest thing was to find Dagrun and explain to her all that had happened. Hrefna had said Dagrun was a kind woman who would surely help them. She could hide them while they sent word to Ainnileas.

But Ingrid should have been back by now. Had Gunnar waited in ambush, knowing Ingrid would eventually show up at Dagrun’s door? Or had Ingrid, in her foolishness, decided to look for Ainnileas herself? Ingrid was still as lovesick over him as ever. Time had not tempered the girl’s rash nature.