The sky was dark with millions of stars shining bright by the time I made it to Stefán's house. When I opened the door, it was revealed that Stefán was the only one sitting at the heavy table. He smiled and greeted me, but he did not stand. I shrugged off the heavy fur cloak I had found in the small house and hung it on the back of a chair before sitting down on it.

"Are you certain Jón will be joining us?" I asked in a small voice. I hoped that the man I was supposedly betrothed to would not make an appearance at our night-meal, but Stefán's next words extinguished any hopes.

"You must not worry. Jón has given me his word, he shall not break it." He must have thought that my question meant I was nervous because Stefán sounded as though he was trying to reassure me.

He was an honourable man, so it seemed, on top of being wealthy. Why would a woman not want to marry him? If you did not spend any time with the man, he would be considered the perfect husband.

I jumped slightly as the door opened and Jón appeared. He walked into the house, not even casting one glance at me. The two-roomed house was large, the biggest of all the village houses, but having both Jón and Stefán in the room made in look minuscule. Jón nodded to Stefán as he sat down, but still he ignored me. He said something to his friend in a low voice, causing the other man to laugh loudly.

My stomach growled noisily, causing my face to turn crimson, but neither of the men paid attention to it. Stefán looked between Jón and I, his face blank, but his eyes full of mirth.

Under Stefán's gaze, I blushed even deeper and turned my attention to the food in front of me. The meal consisted of stockfish served with butter along with carrots and radishes. I assumed that Lára had made the food, even though she was not present. I wanted to give her my apologies, my second time in one day, but I did not know where to find her and could not leave the two men.

For a moment I closed my eyes and let my senses overwhelm me. The smell of the food and the sound of the two men eating sent me back to my own village. Father and Mother would be seated in the spots held by Stefán and Jón. Magnús would enter the house, his hair, which matched mine, would be a mess as a result from the wind. Afi would be seated next to me, finishing telling one of his many stories.

I opened my eyes and sighed. No, I was not with my family. I was not even with people I truly knew. Instead I was at a table with a zealous chieftain and my brooding betrothed. I was curious as to how two men so completely different could be friends.

For the rest of the meal, Jón did not speak anymore. Stefán did enough for the both of us, telling us all that we needed to know. "Valdís is past marrying age," he told Jón. "Since we do not know if her family is living, as chieftain of this village, I shall act as her guardian. We shall discuss the marriage and terms as the day draws nearer." Jón did not answer so Stefán continued. "Lára has agreed that you should be accustomed to each other's company when the wedding takes place. For this to happen, Jón, you shall join Valdís every night for your night-meal."

I was at a loss for words. Surely he did not intend for me to spend every night alone with a man who I barely knew. It was not proper and it seemed truly ridiculous.

Jón's eyes blazed at his friend's words. Without saying anything, the large man pushed away from the table and stormed from the house. Stefán quickly followed him, slamming the door.

I sat with my hands in my lap, unsure whether or not I should pursue them. I silently counted to one hundred, waiting for the men to reappear. When they did not, I stood and wrapped my cloak tightly around my body and wandered out into the cold. I hurried past by the houses, hoping to make it to my own house before I could run into Stefán and Jón.

Deep, male voices drifted through the night air, almost drowned by the howling wind. I walked towards them only to find Stefán and Jón in a heated discussion.

"You must cut your ties with her!" Stefán was saying. "You are to wed Valdís."

"We know nothing about that woman. She may kill us all in our beds." Although shadows fell over Jón's face, I could see it traced with anger.

"She seems the most level-headed woman in this village; she will make a suitable wife for you."

"So would María." Jón's voice was grave.

"Yes and she is to Ragnar."

The woman Jón loved was married to another man? But what did it matter to me? I was his new betrothed and I was still in love with a man who was dead. Strong, handsome Pétur who treated me as though I was normal.

Having heard enough, I went back to my small house. The only light came from the small fire that burned in the middle of the room. I stripped out of my clothing so I only stood shivering in my smock. Quickly I washed my face and hands before slipping under the thin blankets.

Jón did not trust me, but what reason had I given him to? I had showed up in this village, claiming to be from a raided village. How was Stefán so certain that I was not there to ruin them all? I wanted nothing more than to leave this place and go back to my own village. Perhaps, by some strange occurrence the Gods finally took pity on me and somehow saved Pétur. We could finally marry, have a farm of our own, and I would bare him many children who would never know the terrible luck I had.

I was shocked at the warm tears which rolled down my face and onto the bed. I had no choice but to marry Jón; Stefán would not let me stay if I did not and in reality I could not return to my home. Bringing my hand up to my face, I wiped away the tears and gathered my thoughts. I would marry Jón, live as his wife and give him as man children as he wish for - but I would never love him. I would treat him as coldly as he had me.

oOo

The days always started with the sun raising its head over the sea and ended with it disappearing behind the forest. In my village on the other side of the island, it was the opposite. Would I ever truly become use to waking to a blood red sea?

Every day in the village passed slower than the last. I woke, made my way to Stefán's longhouse to help Lára care for the children and complete the chores, and returned to my house to make a night-meal that only I would eat.

I had been here for five more days since the first night-meal with the men and for five nights I had spent every evening in my own company. Jón had refused to accompany me, much to Stefán's displeasure. I, on the other hand, was fine without that stubborn man's company. After the third night of eating alone, I had decided to stop cooking enough for two people, convinced that Jón would never join me.

On my ninth day in the village, I woke to the sound of rain falling hard on the roof. I climbed from my bed and slipped on my clothing that Lára had assisted me in making. I broke my fast with the food left over from my night-meal and pulled on the old, heavy cloak that hung on the wall.

When I opened the door, I was met with sheets of rain falling from the blackened sky. The road had already turned to mud and puddles had formed inside the deep footprints. The snow had been washed away and melted. I held the cloak tightly around my body as I hurried up the road towards Stefán and Lára's longhouse. The mud was to my ankles, making me thankful for the old boots Lára had gifted me with.

Reaching my destination, I opened the door and stepped in, shaking the water from the cloak. When I saw the mud already crusted on the wooden floor, I did not feel guilt for bringing more into the house. I pulled the cloak away from me and hung it near the door, leaving my sodden boots next to it.

Margrét, the youngest of Stefán and Lára's brood, was seated at the table, a smile on her pretty round face. "Valdís!" she cried, slipping away from the table and coming towards me. Although I had only lived here for nine days, the small girl had grown incredibly fond of me.

"Góðan morgin, Margrét," I said, picking her up and setting her on my hip. "Is your móðir home?"

"I am back here," Lára called from the back of the longhouse, behind an embroidered curtain. She appeared not a moment later with a grimace on her thin face. One of her hands was pressed against the small of her back and the other held a shirt in need of mending. "If this child is not going to be the death of me, I do not know what will be." She sat herself down on an iron chest and let out a long sigh of relief. Her large, round stomach looked as though it would burst if one were to touch it.

"Do not say that, the child will bring you happiness when it is born." I sat down opposite of Lára with Margrét on my lap. I took the comb from my pouch and ran it through the little girl's hair, making it shine like spun gold. "Where are the older children?"

"Stefán took them with him on his work. He believes it is time for them to learn how things are to be done." Lára frowned again. "I have given birth to four children before this, but never had they caused such pain."

My gaze flew to her at the mention of her pain. "Is pain customary?"

"Do not worry yourself, girl. The babe is only proving itself restless. Soon it shall be time for it to be born, but we need not speak of this. Stefán has informed me that he will be having a word with Jón about taking his night-meal with you. If my husband is successful, Jón shall be with you tonight.

"You love Jón?" Margrét asked, looking up at me with bright eyes.

"She shall be wedding him, yes," the girl's mother told her.

Margrét cuddled into the front of my dress. "You're pretty."

oOo

I kneeled in front of the hearth with a fire-steel in my left hand and flint in my right. I had placed touchwood on the wood to quickly catch the spark, but it was all in vain. I tried again and again, but no spark would come. Perhaps it was the dampness that hung in the air that prevented the fire from lighting. My hands were beginning to tire and my knuckles were sore from the times I had somehow missed the fire-steel. My patience was wearing thin. One more try ended in failure, causing me to let out a frustrated sigh.

I threw the steel and flint to the side and leaned back on my heels, placing my head in my hands. I muttered a curse, not only at the lack of fire, but also at myself.

If I were to cook for myself, I would not worry about having my fire started, but Jón would be expecting his night-meal on the table when he arrived. The food was already prepared, but my betrothed did not seem like the type of man who would like his vegetables and meat raw. I stood and placed the wooden plates on the table. I did not have the meal made, but I could look as though I tried.

I went back to the hearth and picked up the steel and flint again. This time when I tried, a small, bright spark appeared, but did not catch. The door opened, causing me to jump and spin around. Jón walked into the house, a strange look on his face as his eyes fell on me. The look could only be described as an amalgam of amusement and irritation.

"What are you doing here?" I snapped, dropping the steel and flint on the floor and standing.

"It was my understanding that if I did not join you for a night-meal, Stefán would banish me from the village. The rain has worsened and has prevented us from continuing our work." Jón removed his cloak and threw it over one of the chairs before coming closer to me. "It is apparent you were not expecting me tonight."

I shook my head and stared into the dark hearth. "Lára had informed me that you would be here. The rain and dampness have prevented me from starting a fire."

Jón moved past me and sunk down on his knees in the spot I had been just moments before. He picked up the tools with his large hands and sent sparks flying onto the touchwood on the first strike. The sparks caught and soon there was a fire burning brightly in the hearth.

"Thank you," I said quietly, turning my back to him and picking up the large piece of pork. I cut it in half and dropped it in the pot of water. Jón sat himself in the chair that faced me while I watched over the meat and vegetables, occasionally stirring it. Silence fell in the small house, the only sound being the boiling water and my footfalls on the floor. "It shall be sometime before the food is ready."

Jón only replied with a grunt as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. As much I detested the idea, I felt overly conscious of my short hair and ill-fitting clothes under Jón's scrutinising gaze. I kept my eyes averted from him until I heard a small sound. I turned to find him with a knife in his hands, whittling a small piece of wood.

I watched him, mesmerized by how such a large man could be so gentle. With such a relaxed look upon his face, he truly did look very handsome. His dark hair hung past his shoulders, the front plaited back to keep it away from his face as he worked. A short beard covered the hard lines of his strong jaw and chin. His nose was off centered, as if it had been injured multiple times.

Pétur had been so different from this man. He had been tall and sinewy, with the rare boyish charm that so little men possessed. A deep dimple would appear in his left cheek when he smiled, something he did often. He had been charismatic, hardworking and kind. He would have made a superb chieftain - everyone enjoyed his company.

Lára's words flashed through my mind. The men in our village respect Jón, but only to a point... they talk when he is not in the room. Did they speak of him because of the fact he was in love with a married woman? I had yet to see María, but she was no doubt beautiful. She could easily have Jón if she was willing to lay with him and her husband was to find out.

When the food was finished cooking, I placed some on a plate for Jón and sat it down in front of him. As I sat down with my own, I watched as he eyed the food before bringing it to his mouth. He did not show any sign of disgust towards the meal, so I began to eat mine.

The meal was eaten in silence, neither of us speaking or looking at the other. The silence was broken when Jón finished his meal and pushed his plate away from him. Without a word to me, he stood and left the house.

I pushed away from the table and stood, wondering how any woman could care about such a man. Perhaps leaving this village and finding my way back to my own would be a better life than staying and marrying Jón.

Afi = Grandfather

Góðan morgin = Good morning