A Queen Named Victory

Chapter Three

Dinah started crafting a new dress for her daughter. Now, she wore a blue fabric wrapped around her body. She swaddled Judith in a cotton coat pinned by copper brooches. Dinah ordered Ingrid to hoist the celebratory mead barrels into the hall for the festivities and prepare the plumpest ewe for the fire. She then listed all the embroidery designs she expected me to complete on Judith's new gown.

Luckily, Dinah was too preoccupied with measuring Judith's bosom to notice us take on opposite tasks, otherwise, she would have enjoyed the sight of Ingrid trying to drag the barrel of mead into the doorway and the sight of me pricking my fingers until they were a bloody mess. She would also punish me further for staining such expensive cloth. Any drop of our misery made her happy.

"It's a bit small."

My father looked over the meat apprehensively. A thin layer of white fat covered the pink muscles.

"I picked one that is large enough to feed your wife," I responded with a decent amount of smugness.

"Do you know how to cut it correctly?" he asked.

I stabbed the blade into the wooden cutting board, then spoke, "Ulf will not stay behind next winter."

He hesitated as if he had something else to say but decided not to.

Inside, Ingrid worked tirelessly on a new part of Judith's dress. "My ornaments need polishing, Ingrid!" Judith snapped. I did not waste time grabbing the brooches from her basket.

"I want Ingrid to do it," Judith emphasized.

"Do you want polished brooches or a finished dress? "

Judith crossed her arms. She opened her mouth—most likely to yell or scream like the banshee she was—but her mother intervened.

She soothed, "Dear, you must stay still if I am to apply the salve correctly. I want your husband to adore your soft skin."

Dinah smeared a green paste over Judith's forehead and thick hairy eyebrows down to the bottom of her neck. Once dried, the salve on her face separated and cracked. Small flakes fell to the floor as her mother pulled her hair back into a bun.

"She's finally shedding her scales," I whispered under my breath to Ingrid. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

Ulf romped on the road ahead of us. The pouch of coins clanked against his hip with each stride. Ingrid halted abruptly; her gaze steadied on Halmund. A tender smile flashed on his face when he noticed my sister.

"You cannot lead him to believe you are his betrothed," I warned.

The look on my sister's eyes told me that she did not wish to heed my warning. "I will be truthful and warn him," she promised. I managed to give her one last disapproving nod before she scampered to the big oaf.

"Ulf, we must buy the meat from Skeg." I held onto my brother's shoulder and guided us towards the butcher's hut. "Wait! I have not given Ingrid coins for the fruit!"

"Don't fret." Ingrid had the power of beauty. That was not the first time she used her charms to win the heart of a man, and it would not be the last.

Skeg separated a large strand of sausages into smaller links. He moved so fast he would slice off a finger or two. He already lost the tip of his pinky a few summers past.

"Halvar sends his regards," I started nicely. "I'd like two pig legs, one arm's length of pork sausage, and a sack of the dried herring."

"Papa said to get a whole pig. Head and all," Ulf reminded under his breath. I hushed him, hoping that Skeg did not hear him. He lifted the whole pig carcass into a canvas bag. "I'll take a whole pig," I muttered in defeat and dug into the pouch for two more silver beads to add to our payment. Skeg filled a sack to the brim with dried fish and then filled another.

"No, only one sack of the herring," I tried to correct, but Skeg waved me off with his fat hand.

"Two will be better. Your family will need it for the festivities."

"I do not have enough to pay for the herring."

"It is free. All of it," he replied proudly as he lifted both heavy sacks over each shoulder.

"Free?"

Skeg nodded with a gap-toothed grin. Flecks of meat and white fat jiggled in his beard.

"It is a gift fit for a beautiful bride."

"Ahh...t-thank you," I said in astonishment. He usually charged more for a bridal feast. Why would he give so much meat as a gift of no charge for Judith? No, he is trying to be in a favorable position with Halmund.

I returned the coins to the small pouch before he changed his mind. Ulf offered to load the cart, but Skeg refused him. He insisted on heaving the heavy load on his own. He puffed out his chest and walked in proud strides. Three of his children giggled at their father until he snapped at them to get back to work. The youngest child hurried to pick up the sausages she dropped onto the floor and rinse them in the saltwater.

When we returned, Ingrid and Halmund had not moved from where their conversation began. My sister bid her farewells to Halmund after our brother interrupted their conversation. She turned away with tears in her eyes and a wavering smile on her lips. That girl and her everlasting smiles. She hid too much pain beneath that mask.

Once they were farther into the crowded market, I approached Halmund.

"Tell me, are you interested in my sister?"

He looked at me, surprised, then glanced at the people around us who went about their business mindlessly. "I-I..." A few elder shopkeepers watched us with curious eyes, but nobody in the village heeded their idle gossip. I pressed on.

"If you like her, then say you do. If you do not then, say no. Answer me."

"It does not matter if I like her. My uncle arranged marriage to your other sister."

"Consider that a recommendation. They can't force you the way they can a woman," I said confidently.

He nodded. "I like your sister. She is beautiful."

I handed him the bag of leftover silver coins and said firmly, "Take this." Halmund was quiet and too confused to understand my intention. I explained what type of man my father was. Merchants lived for the exchange of goods. He needed to fight for Ingrid if he wanted to marry her. Otherwise, he deserved to marry a spoiled girl like Judith.

I left the young man without any other words. We would find out soon enough if he dared to trudge down his self-made trail or to walk the path made for him.