Page 70

And who taught her to seek her own approval within herself.

Andor, who had taught her to be a shield-maiden.

But she had left him. And he had left her, too. He didn’t want to be with her—but only because he had thought she loved Brad and not him. But it wasn’t true!

What if she told him that she really loved him, that he was the man for her? The man she had crossed hundreds of years for? The man she’d gladly wait for—until he got over Svana’s death?

Would he give her a chance then?

Cathy had to try. If there was even the slightest chance, she had to take it or she’d regret it her whole life.

But how would she go back? Could she draw those runes on a rock and travel back in time?

She still remembered the runes. She must go to England, to York, and find that mound!

Her heart thumping in her chest, she ran towards the path away from the beach.

“Cathy!” her mom yelled. “Where are you going?”

“Where I belong.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Hvaldalen, Norway, May 7, 878 AD

Andor drove the ax into the bare tree trunk lying on the trestles, and then again and again, the muscles of his shoulders and back singing from the joy of work. The skin of his naked torso rejoiced in the warm sunlight, and the gentle breeze cooled him, drying off his sweat. Perfect weather for building. Around him, dozens of axes clinked against wood, hammers banged, men cried out from strain or to coordinate setting a length of timber in the earth or raising beams for the roof.

The new great hall was well underway. The wooden frame stood, and men worked hard to build the first wall. Having the jarl’s hall constructed was important for all the people of Hvaldalen. It was the symbol of a fresh start for everyone.

After Andor had returned to Jorvik from Harek and Nanna’s farm, he had known he wanted to return home to Hvaldalen. He was ready. The forgiveness he had found there had made him realize he owed it to Svana and the victims of the slaughter to rebuild their home. That was what they would have wanted. Not to bend to the tragedy and run away from the consequences with his tail between his legs, but to stay, to face his responsibility and to accept the death of his and their loved ones.

To start anew.

He knew the dead of the village would wait for him and his people in Valhalla, Odin’s hall of the slain, and Fólkvangr, Freyja’s fields of the dead.

When he got back to Jorvik, he had called to anyone from Hvaldalen who was in Jorvik to go back home if they wished, telling them he would rebuild their home. Many had chosen to stay because they had already started new lives there, but many new had joined him, too. Of course, his silver and other treasure from countless raids helped, and he could hire builders to come and rebuild the village as quickly as possible.

To thank his people for their loyalty and patience, the first thing Andor did when they arrived was to raise another rune stone for the fallen, right next to Svana’s.

Of course, the joy of seeing his home rising again, could not be full without the one person he wanted to share it with.

Cathy.

Andor glanced at Fridstein, who worked on his house together with his wife, and watched with a tightness in his chest that came from both the joy of seeing them together and, if he was honest, a stab of jealousy. The sight reminded him of the loss of both Svana and Cathy, and his whole body ached from the memories. Normally, he would have run away from them, looking for a distraction, but now he closed his eyes and took them in, because in that pain, was also love and the joy of thinking of them both.

At least Cathy must be safe and well, back in her time. Andor had ensured that. He had followed her and Fridstein right away, but not close enough that they would notice him. When he saw Cathy touch that rock and disappear, his world had come crashing down, shaking and crumbling like a rock under Thor’s hammer. His gut had twisted until it hurt, pain raging within him.

He’d walked to the rock, surprising Fridstein, whose eyes were as wide as armrings. Andor had inspected the rock and could see the remnants of the runes written with coal dissolve into the stone and disappear.

Well. Somehow this must be for the better. He had told her to go.

He would give anything to see her again now, to touch her, to hear her voice.

But that was impossible, and he needed to learn to live without her. His people needed him. He had to live for them now.

“Look, a ship.” Fridstein came to stand next to him and pointed at the fjord.

Andor straightened, the ax still in his hand, and covered his eyes with his other hand to shield them from the sun. Indeed, a single Viking ship cut through the glistening mirrorlike water of the fjord, oars rising and falling.