Читать книгу Kama - Terese Brasen - Страница 15

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4

Kama wasn’t sure how many days had passed, but then the time came, and she woke to the sound of sticks beating against shields, rising from faraway and traveling all the way to the townhouses.

Kama preferred to ride bareback, her legs hugging Thor’s warm body as she leaned into the horse’s neck and grabbed its mane. That morning, she and Thor passed through the city gates towards the river. The bank was difficult but not too tricky. Bare wild rose bushes crowded the pathway down to the bank. During Harvest Month, slaves had picked the bushes clean then boiled the hips into a sweet red soup that would become a fortifying meal. Now, the roses were only thorny obstacles slowing her descent down the riverbank. Farther down, a safe distance from the bank, where the ships sat locked in the ice, the funeral pyre stood. Large wooden posts held the ceremonial vessel, and on the shore stood several tents.

Kama dismounted. Hidden by the poplar trees, she watched men enter and leave a tent. “Tell your lord I have done this out of love for him,” each man said.

Sticks against shields. Louder and louder. As the day progressed, the beating would become louder, and then, consumed by fire, Father would leave this world for Valhalla, where there would be no more battles, and every moment would be celebration and feasting. But Father had not died in battle.

Kama could have attended her father’s funeral, but she had wanted to stay away. She blamed him in part for what had happened. Why hadn’t he listened to his mother and stayed in Hedeby? Why did he think the rules didn’t apply to him? Why did he believe he could marry a woman who didn’t know his language or understand the ways of the Norse people? Father cared only about himself and never about the Mother, Kama, his mother. It was he, he, he. He wanted something, so he took it, even though it was not rightly his, and living this way, as a merchant, wasn’t his right. And if he had to be a merchant, why not hire men to pilot the ship and sell the wares? He didn’t have to be on the boat, but he wanted to. He needed to be on the water. He needed to always be leaving.

Kama remounted Thor and followed the river. Thor’s hooves clattered along the gravel shore. The leafless trees were brown and red, and the ice on the river was rough, as though it had come suddenly, stopping the current as it flowed, turning it into rugged ice carvings. She was angry at her father—so angry she dug her heels into Thor’s sides and urged him along the shore. She galloped faster and faster. The crunch of hooves on gravel and the strength of Thor under her distracted her from her rage.

Then Thor slowed, sensing Kama’s growing fatigue, the need to stop, get down again, think, but thinking would involve admitting that this was true, and she had a sense that nothing was what it seemed, what she knew and saw not actually there. This moment was a piece of ice that could crack, and when it did, there would be another world.

Smoke stayed in the air and drifted down the path of the river to Kama and Thor. Kama sensed that the drumming and banging of sticks was continuing in the distance, along with the singing. The sounds were all rhythmic reminders and sad laments. Kama had returned regularly to Father’s bedside. She had even held his hand, and when death came, a smile had appeared on his face. The torment of not knowing how to live or whom to love evaporated to leave only the other father. This gentler man cherished beauty and discovery so much he couldn’t remain within the rules of Hedeby. That small kingdom had demanded he diminish his dreams and settle for less. As she closed his eyes, she promised him that she would take her place in Hedeby, fulfilling Astrid’s and his desires, accomplishing what he, with his restless spirit, never could.

Kama

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