[bill_n_sam]

The Borrim hunter merely nodded his head in acknowledgement of Gunna’s invitation. She wondered if the deep scowl on his brow was a permanent feature, or only the result of his verbal skirmishing with the Ulfings. Gunna had been alarmed at the near altercation, but more than that, she had been almost ashamed by her fellow townspeople’s rudeness. Certainly their kinsmen from the north merited more politeness, if not true friendliness, than it seemed they were receiving. With a silent sigh, she acknowledged that this was the way of things now. Dag was right – it was best to mind their own business and not worry about the doings of those around them. But how much longer would that be possible?

With a slightly forced smile, Gunna nodded in return and stepped through the door, remembering at the last moment the huge dog at her escort’s heels. She turned to ask him to make the animal wait outside and almost bumped into the man’s broad chest. “Oh! I . . . I wonder if you could have your dog . . . “

“Laylah!” The Borrim did not need to repeat the command. The dog dropped to her haunches and sat, not at ease, but in a posture of keen attentiveness to her master.

“Oh, oh . . . thank you.” Gunna said nervously, and turned once more to proceed into the house.

The light within was much dimmer than the brightness outside, coming merely from the smoke hole and the open door. Knowing her own little realm, though, as well as she knew every detail of her child’s face, Gunna stepped confidently across the threshold, impulsively giving Kata a quick hug.

“Kata! I’m so glad to see you! And who have you brought? Jóra! Granny Dulaan! And Tora too?” There was a brief moment of confused but happy greetings and explanations as to who had come for what reason. When the clacking of six female tongues had died down a bit, every eye came to focus on the stranger amongst their merry little group. An awkward silence fell and several of the pairs of eyes turned to Gunna for explanation.

“This . . . this is, um, Hunta.” Gunna gestured towards the grim looking man who stood resolutely holding the neatly wrapped venison. “He . . . he is from the household of Khandr, the, er, northerner who has come to negotiate for a bridegroom for one of his kin. You know who I mean?”

All heads nodded. Certainly they all knew of the Borrim contingent ensconced in their midst, within, yet not part of, their community. Gunna pretended to ignore the wide eyed stares of her friends, as she gave a somewhat breathless explanation of this stranger’s presence. “Belig mentioned that Khandr’s wife was eager to trade for food, they . . . their men are such skilled hunters.” She nodded in Hunta’s direction, as if to confirm such an accolade. “And, so I went to their house, the house given them by Ulfang, you know, near the chieftain’s hall? And . . . and I thought, well, we had this fine wheel of cheese, and the last piece of meat we had from Tokr had already spoiled, even though we gave his wife that fine blue thread – you remember, Kata? You had your eye on it yourself. Well . . . and so, I, I met Khandr’s wife . . . well, both his wives, I suppose, to be precise, and . . . they, she, she was quite polite, very friendly. And happy to trade fresh venison, so, she sent one of the Borrim, er, sent Hunta, here, to carry the meat for me and to bring back the cheese. You know the cheese I mean, Mem?” Gunna finished feebly, the unspoken words sounding as loudly in her head as the spoken ones. Leaving your poor blind sister AND your little babe – to go consort with those foreigners. Dawdling along in the street, passing the time of day with a strange man – a man NOT your husband! WHAT were you thinking, girl!

But if Kata, Dulaan or Tora were thinking these same thoughts, they gave no outward indication. Not in front of this Borrim, leastways. Mem, with her innate sense of how to smooth troubled waters, said pleasantly, “A guest! And one who can share some new stories with us – not those same old naughty tales you tell, Dulaan! Please, won’t you sit with us, Sir? I’ve just made tea – would you care for some?”

Mem’s gentle voice seemed to break the awkward tension, and Kata and Dulaan both pressed the newcomer to try the tea, assuring him of its fine flavor, while Gunna silently took the venison from Hunta, laying it aside, and then handed him the steaming cup which Mem had held up to her. Tora for her part sat quietly, observing the Borrim closely but saying nothing, while Jóra danced happily about with the laughing baby jigging in her arms. Although the abrupt entry of this northerner into their little gathering was startling, it was certainly a golden opportunity not to be wasted, if at all possible.

Hunta extended his hand, taking the cup Gunna offered. Gunna thought she saw the frown on his face relax somewhat, but she could not be sure in the dim light. Hunta bobbed his head, and with a brief, “My thanks, lady”, retired to a corner by the small woodpile, where he seated himself and took a sip of tea.

Once again, it was Mem who lightened the moment by saying, “Sister! You’ve missed out on a happy bit of news! Dulaan has confessed – she’s in love! Raudi he’s named, and he goes with a limp. I believe that’s how old granny caught him – he couldn’t run away fast enough!” Laughter filled the small house, as the women settled in to talk, with an occasional shy glance in the direction of the corner.