placed it on her head. Delicate, ornate filigree dangled down her forehead.
“For you,” he said.
Women from around Kiev had worn these temple rings before the Norse people had arrived. Each style was from a different Slav tribe.
“Looks good,” Inga said.
“Are you sure?” Kama asked.
“You look like a Slav princess,” Inga said.
“You princess,” the smithy echoed.
“And that’s a good thing?” Kama asked.
“It’s a good thing,” Inga said. Kama found a coin in her pouch and placed it in the man’s hand. Then they left the dwarves.
Kama and Inga skied with momentum, then slowed their stride. Their long spears helped them balance and push ahead. Kama watched her shadow. The moon stretched her silhouette and painted the dangling temple ring across the bright snow.
As Kama and Inga neared the city, they could see the lanterns burning at the front gate. Inga turned and skied to her hut. Kama followed the pathway to the townhouses. Smoke rose from each roof. Light and vapor mixed then exited into the open night air. A torch yellowed the room. Father sat next to Mother on the side of Mother’s bed. Mother was in her underdress. There was a seared smell, as though stew was burned to the pot. Mother’s hair seemed to be tossed about. Why was Father here, still wearing his furs, making it clear he didn't plan to stay?
Kama untied her boots. Mother's eyes were dark and frightened. Kama started towards her bedchamber.
Father's voice stopped her. "Where have you been?” he said.
“At the market,” she lied.
“What stupid peasant thing are you wearing?” Father was standing now, this tall man with cold blue eyes. The silver cut into her skin, as he yanked the temple ring from her forehead. The dangling filigree landed in tiny pieces. Each broken section was capable of producing only miniature tinkles, but to Kama, the falling sounds were loud booms, like the river crashing and diving over rocks.
She opened the bed curtain.
“I'm not finished talking to you.”
“I'm going to bed.” Then Father came towards her. He grabbed her and slapped her again and again. He shoved her against the wall and she slid down. Her shift moved up around her waist. Her words were scrambled sobs.
Kama was still on the floor, back against the wall, hands covering her face, when Father slammed the door. His angry hurried steps took him back to the Big House. They died out slowly. Mother was still sitting on the bed. “Father doesn't want you playing with that Inga girl anymore,” she said.
“What's wrong with Inga?” Kama asked.
“He wants you to stay home and help me more.”
“Why don't you say something?” Kama asked.
“It's not my place.”
“Not your place?” Since when did Mother care about going against Father? “If you're not on my side, get out of here."
“I'm your mother. If you don't learn the meaning of obedience, if you don't learn to talk properly to your own family, I can see you when you get married—nothing but a shrew.” In the convent, Mother had learned the ‘meaning of obedience,’ but to her true husband, she showed no allegiance or obedience. All she did was scream and complain. She wanted Kama to be as weak and unhappy as her, kneeling every day on hard floors, mumbling prayers to a dead warrior, who hung up high on a stone cross.
“You're the shrew,” Kama said. Mother stood still. The semidarkness hid her face, but Kama could see tears on her cheeks. Kama had launched that arrow intentionally. She saw the situation clearly. Although Mother wrapped herself in godliness, what she really wanted was Father’s attention. To do that, she was willing to trick him. It didn’t matter who she hurt.
“That may be true,” Mother said. She closed the curtain to her bed closet. The wooden rings dragged along the rod. Kama stood and left the townhouse for the barn and her horse Thor. Normally, she would brush his mane, pump water and bring it to him, but tonight, she didn’t even light a lantern. She sat in the dank, uncomfortable space. Thor snorted. Moonlight eased in over the low door.
3
The next day, Katerine watched a crow as it landed in the shutter. She saw its beady eyes. It had come to warn her. God had seen too much sin. Naked men and women lusting after each other. The snow had come early. It would continue to fall. She imagined Kama in the forest. There are eyes like bright flames between the trees. The stares flare up and consume the woods. Kama cannot run fast enough. The passage to Hedeby was fraught with such danger. Katerine could see what others couldn’t. Her knife sliced through the onion. Cut marks marred the wooden board. Her mind would not be still. In her thoughts, she saw Sigtrygg and heard his words: Nothing has changed.
In the spring, the melting snow would flood all of Kiev. She understood the crow’s glance. She saw the waters rising. It washes through the streets. It pours in through shutters. It drowns the citizens of Kiev and silences their cries.
Katerine remembered the words again. Nothing has changed. His words yanked at her. Every thought ran back to him and his insistence. If nothing changed, she was doomed. She would go hungry again. Sleep under benches. Dress in rags. Beg for scraps. The black bird peered inside. Its feathers were very blue in the light. Why could nothing change? Katerine hacked the onion into tiny pieces. She kept seeing his face. She watched his mouth open and close. The words fell out. Nothing has changed. What did he mean? So much had changed. But not for the better. He had switched from bold Sigtrygg to cowardly Sigtrygg—Sigtrygg son of Astrid the Dane. He had changed and now he couldn’t change back, he said.
The crow’s eyes met her own. Whose spirit had taken the shape of a bird and was now inspecting her situation? What was it saying? She didn’t need to ask. I will do as you say, she told the bird. She would stop the evil that blustered into Kiev and brought with it lust and danger. She threw the onions in the bubbling cauldron. Next she would chop the herbs. First she shook each dried bunch over the pot, letting loose leaves fall into the broth. Then she worked fast, moving the sharp metal over stems until they became powdery pieces. She scooped the herbs up with the side of the blade and tossed them into the stew.
She needed to sit for a while. Sigtrygg found the flavors of Constantinople irresistible. Only she could recreate them. She closed her eyes. Now was the time. The crow cawed. She couldn’t wait for summer and Astrid. The real danger was now.
SLAUGHTER MONTH KIEV 934 CE
Kama opened Mother’s silver box. Flat glass decorated the lid. Lines of gold connected the orange, blue, green and red pieces. Hinges held the lid open. Inside was a glass mirror and small cups of colored powder, red creamy paint, charcoal sticks and brushes. All seemed new and almost untouched.
Everyone was preparing for the long cold ahead. Animals were sacrificed every day. The ice had closed in. Father would wait now in Kiev until the river melted. Every day Mother brewed her concoction. She blended yellow and crimson powders into a bittersweet broth with almonds and figs and chickens. She tried to lure Father back with the irresistible broth. Every day she sent Kama to the Big House with a jar for Father. Kama hated these errands.
