CHAPTER SIX; move along
Sihtric never came. Four moons had passed by the time Tova decided she could not linger any longer where she was in the west, miles away but not far enough for men still looked for her in the villages and towns that scattered around the place, though the searches never used her name, no doubt Kjartan being smarter than that.
During that time, and the time she spent in the room she had been given shelter at by the lovely kind elderly couple, much further away, no longer in the North, her belly had grown, her kicking unborn child a constant reminder of the fact she had left Sihtric behind, unable to wait for him.
As soon as her babe was be born, she would find her brothers, she promised herself. But eight moons had shined down since she escaped, Tova was in no fit condition to continue riding unless she wished to harm herself or worse, the child that would depend on her for survival, for everything.
Walking across the dirt path, taking deep breaths as she carried the heavy bucket of water for her horse, Tova had insisted on doing so to Karlan, the elderly man, for it wasn't fair on Fawna to be left alone for so long. Her horse had taken a liking to her, would nudge her stomach with its nose, would calm in Tova's presence.
"Good girl, beauty," She smiled, running her hand down Fawna's side, her other on top of her large belly. Her son or daughter liked to kick, a very active babe, which came to no surprise — both she and Sihtric had been like that as youngsters, too, liking to face and explore the woodlands. "We won't be here for much longer, just until my babe is born and then we shall set out again."
The elderly couple didn't ask many questions. They accepted her coin and were sympathetic upon her story about how her husband had been killed during a raid, claiming she was of a Saxon Mother and a Dane Father. They were Christian's, and so she had to fake her life to work around what they would accept.
"What should we name our babe, hmm?" Tova had no idea on names aside that from her family members. Though if she had a boy, she was at a loss. Sigrid if her babe was a daughter, after her own Mother, but her brother was already Ragnar like their Father.
She didn't quite feel like Ragnar suited her child. Uhtred, most certainly not. She loved her brother, but not his name.
"I have no ideas," She continues to speak, mostly to herself as Fawna couldn't understand her. She gives a laugh when the horse nudges toward the bucket. "That is a sign to call my child bucket, is it? A name fitting for a —"
"Hilda!" The name she had hid herself with is called upon, the female immediately turning her head to spot Anne, Karlan's wife, coming toward her with a man, much younger than her but older than Tova, by her side. Given the resemblance they bore, she assumed this was Anne's son. "Come, my dear,"
With a smile, Tova moved towards them, both hands on her bump now, feeling the heavy weight that dragged her body against her body, but she worked with it.
Anne placed her hand out, one covering Tova's own on her stomach and the other nearing the man's.
"Hilda, this is my son, Peter." Anne was beaming, her kind self loving Hilda since she had arrived, always commenting on Tova's beauty — like sunshine, she would say. "He's my youngest son, he has been working for the King but he has returned home now."
Tova smiles at Peter, who is already smiling at her, his face kind. "It is nice to meet you, your parents are of wonderful —"
"Oh no," Anne waves off, almost trying to pull Tova closer to her son. "No talking of me, my dear. Hilda here lost her husband was killed, we gladly helped a widow and her unborn babe," She wasn't joking there, they hadn't had to host her since but they'd been more than happy to.
Tova was grateful, but guilty for lying to them about who she was.
Peter's face seemed to drop at that information, "I'm deeply sorry about your loss," He was quiet, his voice rather gentle, but deep at the same time.
It reminded her of Sihtric. But Sihtric's accent was much different, Peter sounded so Christian, so. . . unlike her. She had tried to change her voice as much as she could, not to much success, but with the fake story of a Dane Father who had changed his ways for his wife, the couple had understood and accepted it.
God accepts all, they had told her.
Shame she didn't believe in their God, hoping her own were helping her. Praying they stayed, even if they wouldn't aid.
"Thank you," She gives back more quietly than intended, which they seem to take notice before she does. Quickly clearing her face of her sadness, Tova squeezes Anne's, "As I said, your Mother is wonderful. As is your Father. I assume, by them, you are just as great."
His cheeks grew red but eyes shined brightly with pride, adoring the compliments on his parents. He was a handsome man, this couldn't be denied, but even looking at him felt like she was dishonouring her Sihtric, the Father of the child she was carrying — a bastard child.
She didn't mean anything more by her words, but when he looked at her again, her stomach rolled inward emotionally at the way he did. Not in a lustful or harmful way, but more that she was available, no husband, but a bare babe and his Mother left behind, a beautiful woman.
"Peter will be staying with us for a few nights, dear," Anne went to say something to her child, before suddenly asking Tova, "Or he could stay —" Peter's eyes widened in offence at her moving suggestion.
Tova almost laughed, shaking her head, "It is alright," I can protect myself if I have too, "I would love to meet more of your generous family, Anne."
The woman beamed with happiness, having never had a daughter around before, a hand cupping Tova's cheek before announcing she must show her son what his chores would be during his stay. It is not for free! You must work, work, work! The elderly woman was saying to her grown son.
Left behind by the duo, Tova swept some of her hair behind her ear that swept against her cheek, lingering her stare on the family members before finishing up with Fawna. Her hand carried the bump underneath again, making sure she was alone as she walked back up the dirt path with the now empty bucket.
Nearly the home, a heavy breath leaves her lips as she pushes on, an ache to her stomach. It only took a few moments before that growing ache shot to a burning pain, causing her to drop the bucket as she gasped, holding her stomach with a small curl forward.
She had been told by Anne how the start of labour would be, as her Mother had never had the chance to talk about it — given Tova was the youngest, she hadn't witnessed her Mother go through it. Sharp pains stretching across her stomach was the sign that her babe may be coming into the world, and Tova had to suck in a breath as she forced herself to walk closer toward the home.
Pressing her palms against the cot nearly two hours later, Tova's knees were on the floor as she breathed in and out deeply, fingers scrunching the furs tightly. Anne and her son weren't back, and Karlan wasn't home, though even if he was, she wouldn't alert him, the only man she wished to be in the room with her was not here.
Sihtric.
"Sihtric," She cried into the furs, forehead pressed downward. She didn't wish to feel so alone anymore, as if nobody was left in the world, as if it was only her in this burning pain that felt like it was lasting forward. Her Mother should be there, Sihtric should be there, as her brothers and Father waited in the halls of her home for the birth of her child.
None of that would happen.
Her babe wouldn't know her parents, and she had to find her siblings again — her brothers, she had to tell them everything that had happened, and ask for them to help her get Sihtric back. Because nothing was worth anything without him, her babe deserved to have his Father with them. Tova swore to herself she would find Sihtric.
After she had this babe.
"Please, come quick," She whispered to herself, hissing in pain as every moment passed. Where she was knelt, the floor was covered in liquid with white goo and blood patches, where water had gushed out of her — as Anne had warned her would happen before the crowning. Tova honestly had no idea about anything aside from what the woman who had taken her in had told her, but parts of the details seemed to go missing in her mind.
A silent scream leaves her.
Where was Sihtric now? Had he gone west? Was he trapped with his Father and half-brother? Was he alive? She would find him if he was, he'd help her and her brothers get their revenge, for he deserved it too.
"Hilda!" Comes from the other side of the door, it's Anne, her elderly worried voice indicating that she knew something was wrong. "My dear, is everything alright? My son says he heard you in pain as he passed by."
Truthfully, Tova hadn't heard anything outside of her room, but she hadn't been listening, too busy in her own pain to hear the footsteps. "I —" She gasped, being interrupted as the heat stings further, the door to her room opening and hands suddenly holding around her waist, aiding her. "No —"
"You are in labour," Anne states the obvious, "Oh, my dear, you must lie down —"
"I will not," Tova shakes her head, refusing to be moved from Anne that attempts to pick her up. "I must birth like this!"
This horrified the elderly woman, calling for her son to enter the room and to which, he rushes in, pausing at the scene in front of him — something he should not be seeing, for men didn't and for her privacy — and almost turning to leave, if it weren't for his Mother demanding that he lifted Tova onto the bed.
"No!" Tova cries, shaking her head, another cry leaving her lips, Peter behind them but he's in clear uncertainty, "No I will not move, you cannot make me."
"You cannot birth a babe kneeled upon the ground!" Anne cries, as her babes had been birthed in a bed with midwifes of the village nearby surrounding her, she had been safe and not alone, her husband outside. Something Tova did not have. "And you will not do this alone, God is with you, and so are we," She tells her son to move Tova after that.
Peter's hands are slapped away, Tova again refusing the help, refusing the advice, demanding that she did this alone, insisting they left her alone.
"They won't abandon me," Tova mutters to herself, eyes squeezing shut as she pushes Anne away from her, clutching the fur closer to herself, gritting her teeth as another wave of pain hits her. But the urge to push increased, until it became uncomfortable to ignore. "You must leave! You cannot be here with me!"
The elderly woman doesn't understand, "Hilda —"
"Leave!" Tova screams, but she's crying out in pain also as she pushes, panic flying through her as Anne is insistent about not leaving her alone. The thought of anyone other than Sihtric seeing their child first made her heart break in a way she never thought possible, even more so than the death of her parents.
This was supposed to be her family, and it was being meddled with underneath the eyes of her Gods. Where were they? And why weren't they answering her?
"Perhaps we ought to —"
"You will lift her, Peter!" Anne demands of her younger son compared to her other, "Then you shall pray for her, you shall —"
"I do not need you to pray for me," Tova tries to shuffle away, but a groan leaves her after that, head collapsing against her arm.
"Why would you say such a thing?" Anne takes personal offence, tightening her grip over Tova's body, eyebrows furrowed as she tries lifting the younger female. "God is with you, and with your child —"
"Fuck!" The Dane cries out madly, making Peter's eyes widen as he backs away, closing his own eyes at the mess happening. "God is not here! Your God is nowhere here! He abandons this place!" She was hysterical, rightfully so, and her Mother would of understood, insisting she breathed and ranted with a more calmer heartbeat, so her child was not stressed in her belly.
But she had also given herself away, not that she realised that at first. Not that Peter seemed so bothered.
But Anne?
The older woman's cheeks burned a bright red, as if slapped a dozen times across her skin, glaring down at Tova as if she was the devil herself, with horns and horrid like defeating skin, come to feast on her bones.
"My God?" Anne wonders with a tone her son knew all too well, as if knowingly. "You speak as if he is not yours! You are a heathen!" She accuses angrily, shaking Tova who cries out and Peter moves to pull his parent away, ignoring the angry hit against his arm. "I have sheltered a heathen! In my home!"
The Dane wasn't listening.
A scream rips through her, body shaking by itself slightly as she moves her hands underneath her bloody dress, pushing with all her might.
Babe.
My babe, come.
Anne stops fighting in her son's arms, both of them turning back to Tova just in time to hear the cry of a newborn child, as Tova let's out a strangled groan, breath coming in heaps as she tries to calm herself.
Her elbow leaned against the cot as she pulled her babe from where they were birthed, turning her body so her front is facing the rest of the room, her child coming into her arms as she pulls him.
Him.
He has the parts of a son, for all too see, and Tova let's out a gasp as she cradles him closely, the cord still attached. He's crying, eyes squeezed shut as the babe takes his first moments in this big scary world, with only his Mother left to guide him.
"We have a son," She whispers to herself, her other hand going to the cord. Anne had mentioned it had to be ripped, removed, so she places one finger underneath and leans her head down, teeth biting into it until it tears, the sight making Anne's eyes widen in disbelief.
The child was beautiful, though covered in white goo and blood across his face and body, pressing his face against her dress as she tries to provide him warmth.
Hurried footsteps near her, and she looks up, clutching her son closer, but it's just Peter grabbing the blanket from behind her, kneeling and placing it over the newborn, making sure it also covered his feet.
"Heathen!" Anne insults, a hand on her chest before departing, moving to find her husband, something that made Tova aware that she had to leave soon.
Pulling him even closer, Tova wasn't sure whether her son looked like her or Sihtric more. Her Mother had once told her that a newborn babe would resemble their Father, that all of her blood children had, until they grew into their own features that favoured them.
She saw it, she wanted. The babe had Sihtric's nose, and his head covered in dark tuffs of hair, whereas she was blonde, something he didn't get from her. Pride swelled in her chest, "I finally have you," She whispers toward him, a smile forming despite the pain, "I have waited for you, my sweet sweet boy."
His crying quietened, but his eyes didn't open, though she desperately wished they would. She wanted to see her son's eyes, whatever colour they may be, so she had a full image of his first appearance in his life.
"He is beautiful," The man she had forgotten was still there made her look up, Peter's face lacking any of the anger or resentment that Anne's had quickly taken upon realising that Tova was not a Christian by the name of Hilda. "He does not look like you."
Tova's eyes scanned him cautiously, "No," She agrees, though not really sure about that until he said it. "He looks like his Father."
Peter's eyes travelled upward to meet hers. "Another Dane?" He wonders correctly, and when he notices how she pulls her son even closer, he shakes his head, "I do not care whether Christian or Dane, I promise. You are still human, and we are all in need of guidance whomever we are. Is that not right?"
She was right before, assuming he looked kind because he was. No judgement came from him for who she actually was, her lips trembling as she hesitates to nod, hoping this wasn't actually a trick.
Hoping he was kind.
He was.
"I shall calm my Mother down, so you can stay an extra few days to recover —"
But the door bursts back open, Karlan standing in front of his wife as he stared at the scene before him. Peter shared a resemblance with his Father, more now they were close to one another for one to notice the similarities, and the son stood, noticing the anger on his Father's face.
She had lied to them, but with their reactions, she justified it was within good reason.
"Father, calm yourself. She is a woman with a newborn child —"
"A heathen with a bastard!" Karlan near enough screams, silencing his son, waving Peter's attempt off, more horrified at the thought of them in his home than his wife was. "You dare make a fool out of our kindness? To be a thief and eat food we provided?"
"Father —"
A hand smacks Peter across the face, making Tova gasp as she watches him near fall to the side. Her hand aches to reach for her dagger.
"Filthy filthy heathen," Karlan moves forward, ignoring how the afterbirth is causing Tova to stiffen in pain as she fights to keep her son, the man grabbing her hair and forcing her head backwards, before grabbing the babe and spitting in her face.
"No!" Tova screams, panicking as her son is taken, not even noticing the spit flying at her as she grabs Karlan's leg. "Give me my son back! Give him to me!"
Peter darts forward to try help Tova. "Father, no! Give the babe back to his Mother!"
"Silence, boy! You will not be fooled by this whore's beauty," He shoves the babe into Anne's arms, who no longer looked so angry, but rather, upset and unsure. Seeing her husband strike her son —
But then Karlan's kicked Tova clear across her face, making Anne gasp in surprise as she turns the babe to the side, like Karlan was to attack him next. Her husband had never been so aggressive before, though his brother had been slain by Dane's years ago, and she knew that's where this came from. Peter did not know this.
He's grabbed by his Father next, all of them being shoved out of the room as Karlan continues throwing threats, informing Tova that by tomorrow midday, her and her son would be paying their price for their sins.
Sins?
They left Tova bleeding, crying as she begged for her son to be returned to her, a hole in her heart at their separation, the door shutting despite her hurried and loud pleading, the aftermath between her legs.
And a babe crying for it's Mother.
—
only one more chapter before a time skip, guys