Chapter Text
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Gisla was reading her letters in the late morning sunshine. She loved this time of day. The baby was sleeping peacefully in her cradle nearby, and Rollo was whittling in his chair. He had taken to returning to the palace to be with her and Gyda for a few hours each day after his morning training with the men.
She picked up a letter from the foreign minister, expecting to read about the latest political intrigue of her father’s kingdom, and a name caught her eye. She read a bit more and gasped.
“What is it? Your father?” Rollo’s voice was filled with concern as he set aside his work and came over to her.
She looked up at him sadly. “No. Your brother.”
“Ragnar is in your letter?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes. It is from the foreign minister – he has news of Wessex.”
Understanding dawned on Rollo’s face. “Ragnar has attacked there. I was not certain that he even would. Will you read it to me?”
“Yes.” She moved over on the settee to make room for him. “‘The minister in Wessex reports that two Viking ships landed in Northumbria–’”
“Northumbria? Why would they land there?”
“It doesn’t say.”
“Sorry, continue.”
“‘They were met with force and many of the heathens were killed. The rest were taken captive, including their leader, Ragnar Lothbrok.’”
“Why would he go there with only two ships?”
“I don’t know.”
“Go on. They hold him now? For ransom?”
Gisla shook her head slowly and read on. “‘The heathens were given the chance to convert to Christianity and become slaves. None did. All were executed by hanging except for Ragnar, who, it is said, was placed in a pit of vipers and left until dead.’”
“Vipers?”
“Poisonous snakes.”
“What sort of execution is that?” Rollo looked bewildered.
She shook her head with uncertainty. “I have never heard of such a thing.”
“So my brother is dead.” Rollo’s tone seemed to be one of confusion, not grief.
“Yes, so it seems. I am sorry.” Despite her lingering misgivings about Ragnar, she’d developed a sisterly affection for him, as he seemed to genuinely love Gyda. Now her daughter would never know her uncle. And Rollo had lost the brother he’d finally reconciled with. Gisla started to put her hand on Rollo’s shoulder to comfort him, but he suddenly rose and began pacing.
“I can’t understand why he would attack Northumbria. Well, he hated Aelle, but it was not Aelle who massacred our settlement – that was Ecbert. Does it say anything about him?” Rollo turned and waited expectantly.
Gisla ran her finger down the lines of text in the letter until she spotted Ecbert’s name. “Yes. He has increased his defenses in case there is another attack.”
“They must have gotten separated from the rest of the fleet. But why not wait for them? Or go looking for them?”
Gisla had no answers.
“I’m sorry. I keep interrupting.” He came back and leaned over her. “What else does it say?”
Gisla continued reading. “‘King Ecbert asks Emperor Charles if there is any advice he can give on defending from this attack, since he knows that Paris has had to defend twice against these heathens. I refer his question to you, Lord Rollo, as you know this best.’”
Rollo was silent.
Laying her hand on Rollo’s arm, Gisla spoke firmly. “You don’t have to answer. It is not your problem to help them defend Wessex. Ecbert should not have destroyed a settlement that he agreed to support.”
“You would have them left to the mercies of my nephew?” Rollo seemed surprised.
“Your nephew?”
“Björn won’t stand for this. He was there with us when Ecbert made the agreement. We fought to help Ecbert attain more of his kingdom – fought and lost men.” Rollo straightened and paced again. “Good men, like Torstein. And for what? So Ecbert could slaughter our people? He deserves whatever he gets.” Rollo’s voice had gotten gradually more fierce as he spoke. There was a chilling look in his eyes when he turned back towards her.
Gisla felt a cold fear in her heart. “Rollo? What will you do? You won’t go with them?”
Rollo stood for a moment, staring out the window into the distance. Then his eyes dropped to their daughter, who was now awake and wriggling in the cradle, her big green eyes looking at her father. Rollo’s face relaxed. He smiled at the baby, then turned to face Gisla. “No, this is Björn’s fight, not mine.”
Suppressing a sob of relief, Gisla pressed her hands to her heart and thanked God silently. She smiled tremulously at Rollo and reached her hand out to him. “You frightened me for a moment. I could not bear to lose you.”
“I will only fight to defend this land and the life we have made.” He took both of Gisla’s hands and pulled her gently to her feet. “Of course we will mourn him.” He nodded as if imagining it, and Gisla could tell that he was holding back his emotions. “I must tell the men, and we will drink funeral ale and toast him and tell the stories of his exploits. Some of them may wish to return to Kattegat and go with Björn.” He drew Gisla into his arms and held her tight. “But my place is here with you and little Gyda.”
Gisla wrapped her arms around him and together they gazed down at their daughter. She knew that whatever the future might bring, they would face it together.
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Rollo stretched in the grass. He was having a nice nap with Gyda and Gisla beside him. The little girl stirred and he realized his nap was over. Gisla was still sleeping, so he raised himself on one elbow and watched his daughter carefully as she rose to follow a butterfly, and began to pick flowers nearby. She turned now and then to wave happily at him, and he nodded and smiled back at her.
It was Rollo and Gisla’s fifth spring together in Frankia, and the family was enjoying an outing to Rollo’s favorite spot by the lake. He smiled at the memory of when he’d first come here with Gisla and what they had done here. Perhaps they had begotten Gyda that day. At least he liked to think so.
His eyes followed Gyda as she toddled around gathering flowers. Then she started towards the lake. Rollo rose quickly and followed her, ready to dive in after her if she decided to go in.
When she saw him, she giggled and looked back and forth between the water and him. She pointed to the water, her flowers falling from her small fingers. “Papa, swim?”
Rollo grinned. Already his daughter loved swimming in the lake. But while the weather was mild, there was a breeze today and Gisla feared it was too cold for Gyda to be swimming. “Not today – it is too cold. But soon.”
Gyda looked disappointed and gazed out at the water and for a moment Rollo thought that she might defy him. She looked back at him with questioning eyes, and he crouched down and opened his arms to her. A joyful grin split her face and she ran into his arms. He scooped her up, rose to his feet, and swung her around, eliciting an excited squeal.
“Shh, you will wake your mother.” He turned towards Gisla and found that she was already awake, sitting by the tree watching them, a contented smile on her face.
Rollo started to carry Gyda back to Gisla, but Gyda struggled and tried to climb down. “Flowers!”
“Ah, yes.” He turned her in his arms so she was nearly upside down and lowered her so she could scoop up the flowers. She laughed delightedly and grabbed at them. Then Rollo hauled her up to her mother, just as she was, giggling all the way.
There he plopped her down in the grass once more, and she organized her little bundle of blooms. She somberly offered them to her mother, who accepted them with grace, considering what a rumpled mess they were. “Thank you, my darling. They are beautiful.”
Gyda smiled her magical sunshiny smile that for Rollo made his world seem better than Valhalla and Fólkvangr combined. Then she turned to play in the grass, plucking at blades of grass and pointing at bugs.
Rollo sat down beside Gisla, put his arm around her and drew her close. Together they watched Gyda playing. “She grows more and more like you each day.”
“I never picked up bugs. Adelgyda, put that down.”
“Mama – red bug.” Gyda pointed at a ladybug.
“Yes, my dear. Pretty to look at, but not to play with.” Gisla turned and smiled at Rollo. “Perhaps she is more like you?” They both laughed. Gyda sat down then and played with some little Tafl figures that Rollo had whittled for her. Rollo and Gisla watched as she made little scenes with them in the grass.
Rollo leaned over to Gisla and whispered in her ear. “Did you ever think that we could be so happy?”
“At the beginning? No. I never imagined that I would. But now that is nearly forgotten.”
“I can never forget. How my fate was woven for me – how happy it has made me.” He still marveled at how the fates had changed his life. He sometimes thought about Ragnar’s words – how certain he was that Rollo’s star was rising while his was waning. Rollo had never expected that things would turn out this way. He was sorry that Ragnar did not live to enjoy the same contentment that he had found, but felt somehow that wherever he was, Ragnar wished him well. Rollo squeezed Gisla again. “I want everyone to be as happy as I am.”
Gisla smiled up at him. “Well, it certainly seems like they will be.”
It had been a spring that seemed full of love and happiness. There were weddings and christenings among Ragnar’s settlers from Kattegat, who had built a successful community. Halvar and Ermengarde were finally expecting a child after coming to believe they could never have one. Halvar was a fiercely proud papa-to-be, and Ermengarde was already matchmaking. Somber, serious Marcoul had surprised them by making a marriage offer to Joveta, whom it seemed he had begun to love from afar since she first came to Rouen. He knew of her past, but it did not seem to bother him, and she looked at Marcoul with shy but affectionate eyes. Gisla had been overjoyed that the girl she had championed would now find the happiness in marriage that she’d hoped for before she’d been so terribly wronged. Even little Pepin – not so little now – had an admirer. The girl he had taken the place of as hostage when Gisla was kidnapped from the cathedral had thanked him profusely afterwards and given him flowers. Every time they met, she shyly spoke to him and offered him things she had baked or sewn.
And now another match seemed nearly made.
“When do you think that Sinric will marry?” Rollo raised his eyebrows at Gisla.
Gisla giggled lightly. “He has to ask her first. All he does is make eyes at her.”
“He is shy. It’s odd, because they have been friends for so long. What does he have to be shy about? Perhaps he thinks that he is not good enough for her?”
A slight shadow passed over Gisla’s eyes. “No, I don’t think it’s that. I think he still struggles with the idea that he can love again after all these years since losing his family. Perhaps it will be Rosamund who will ask him.”
Rollo laughed. “She may have to. I would like to see him happy.”
“I think he will be.” Gisla smiled a mysterious smile, and Rollo realized that perhaps Gisla had been quietly helping that romance along.
“There must be something in the air.” Rollo breathed deeply and relaxed against the tree, Gisla in his arms, his daughter’s head bobbing in front of them as she played. Nothing could be better than this.
After a little while, Gisla stirred. “We should be getting back. You know Rosamund will scold me if I catch a chill.”
“Rosamund? I think it is Ermengarde who is more protective of you now.”
Gisla smiled. “How disappointed she will be if our babies are both boys or both girls.” She laid her hand over her still-slender belly. “Although I will just be glad if our children can all be friends together.”
“As will I. We will bring them all here to play – and teach them all to swim.” He rose and offered Gisla his hand.
Gisla stood and brushed her dress off, then straightened her veil. Rollo chuckled to himself. She was always so proper, even after being married to him for over five years. But he did not mind – she was the same princess he had married, going about her duties at the hospital and orphanage with such dedication, invoking the respect and devotion of the people, and being a loving wife and mother. He thanked the fates for his good fortune.
“Gyda, time to go. Gather your toys and give them to Papa.”
“Yes, Mama.”
Rollo watched as his little daughter carefully picked up the figures and handed them to him one by one to be stowed in his pocket. “Good. Now close your eyes and open your mouth.” She obeyed instantly, and he chuckled at how much she looked like a plump baby bird waiting for a worm. He plopped a lone dragée into her mouth, and he grinned as her eyes lit up in delight at the surprise treat.
Beside him, Gisla tut-tutted in what he knew was only mock disapproval. “You spoil her.” And sure enough, when he turned, he could see that her eyes were dancing, her way of teasing him for his own childlike love of dragées. And he knew that she was also remembering that first meal they had shared and how much she had truly disapproved of him then.
Rollo rejoiced once more at how much things had changed and how they only seemed to get better. And as the golden sun set over the trees, glowing on the lake like the door to Valhalla, he whispered a little prayer to Odin for helping him find his way here.
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Enda
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