Jón sat next to me at the same table we had at our wedding feast as the villagers gathered in the longhouse. Stefán and Lára sat next to us, but we were the ones the others had come to see. As everyone gathered, Stefán stood, his height making him stand over the rest.

"I have instructed you to be here because I have news." His voice was booming, yet cheerful, as he addressed the crowd. "Come winter, Jón Pálsson and Valdís Tómasdóttir will be welcoming their first child."

Murmurs ran through the crowd and I looked down into my lap as they studied us. Of course the villagers had mostly thought me barren after the months of my marriage since I had not conceived as quick as most. A shout of felicitation sounded through the room and I raised my eyes to see many smiles meeting me.

I moved my eyes over the crowd, searching for the face I did not like. I had expected to find María far from her husband, a frown on her thin face, but neither she nor Ragnar could be found. It puzzled me as to why she would not be present because it had not been known even by me that Stefán would be announcing my pregnancy.

Though I wished for her to see the joy that filled everyone from the news, I was deeply glad that she was not in the longhouse. She had no place in my life or near my husband. My stomach had now rounded out slightly and the pregnancy was showing. People had said nothing of it while I was in the streets, but now they came up to give us their blessings, telling me that they would pray to the Gods that the child would be strong and healthy.

In the month that had passed since I told Jón of our child, Jón's behaviour towards me had changed. He now spent more time in the house and on our property instead of where it was he had always disappeared to. We did not speak much, but the silence that hung between us was comfortable. Part of me worried throughout the silence that he was not pleased with me carrying his child and not María.

"I know that the Gods will bless them with a strong son to follow in his father's footsteps," Stefán said once the crowd simmered down. "There will be a raid when the summer comes. We will be leaving for the east, further than we have ever gone. It will be a long journey."

Another, more serious, murmur went through the crowd. I glanced to my left to where Lára sat to find her with her face blank, but her eyes filled with worry. I knew that she despised the raids more than any of the other village women because she had more to lose. If something were to happen to Stefán she would lose her high position in the village as well as the longhouse her family occupied. The raids were dangerous but necessary for our survival.

Looking to my right I saw that Jón wore a slight frown. Uneasiness filled my stomach. Not all men came back, despite the success of the last raid that took place. The thought of something terrible happening to Jón made me sick. It would be a hero's death, one of honour, but he would be leaving before our child was born. I could not raise the child on my own if something was to happen and neither did I wish to marry again. Jón and I did not see eye to eye, but I found him more comfortable to be with than others.

He turned his head to me, his eyes meeting mine. He gave me a soft nod to tell me he was indeed accompanying Stefán and I wanted nothing more than to reach for his large hand that sat on the table. Not being able to stop myself, I slowly reached out and placed my hand over his, curling my fingers under his and holding it tightly. For a brief moment Jón's brow dipped down before he turned back towards the crowd, but he did not pull his hand away. From the corner of my eye I could see Lára look at us, but I did not meet her questioning gaze.

The door of the longhouse opened suddenly, hitting against the wall with a loud bang, causing the villagers to jump. The wail of a woman met my ears as I tried to see who stood in the doorway. I heard somebody say María and wondered what would cause her to make such an animalistic noise. As she stepped into the light the tears that ran down her face could be seen.

"Somebody must help me," she croaked as she frantically looked around the crowded room. Letting out a low cry she placed a hand on the door frame in order to hold herself up. "It is Ragnar, he is..."

The villagers watched in silence as the woman who had always carried herself with the proper decorum crumpled in front of them. Stefán stood and pushed his way through the crowd towards her. I watched as he place a hand on her shoulder, his voice soft as he questioned her. "Tell us what has taken place, María."

Jón pulled his hand from mine and made his way towards the chieftain, waiting for María's answers. His face was etched with worry as he watched her closely.

Her voice was strong when she spoke the next words, not the voice of a woman in distress. "Ragnar is dead." She collapsed against Jón, her face buried into his wide chest as she gripped his shirt. My husband's arms came around her small body and held her with such familiarity that I felt my heart ache.

Everyone was shocked into silence by her sudden, yet simple words. It answered any questions as to why he was not present at the gathering as well as his wife. Stefán took a moment to study María and Jón before turning to Astrid. "Astrid, take María to your house. Give her something to calm her nerves."

Jón pulled away from the woman to allow the older woman to take her arm before following Stefán out the door to the house María had shared with her husband. With the chieftain gone and the gathering clearly over, the men made their way to examine the body and the women left in small groups to tend to their own homes.

A hand was placed on my arm causing me to jump. I looked up to see Lára standing next to my chair. "Perhaps you should stay until Jón returns. This is no longer a place of celebration."

I nodded and followed her to the back of the house where the children lay, sleeping through all the noise. I sat on a bench where Margrét slept, running a hand gently over her blonde hair. "It is surprising your children are still able to sleep."

"They could sleep through a raid and not wake," Lára said before apologizing with her eyes. "This is quite a turn of events."

"How do you believe he died?" I asked, knowing the question had burrowed itself in both of our minds. I placed my hand on my stomach trying to calm the moving babe.

"I do not know," Lára said her face hard and her arms crossed. "We shall not know anything until the men return."

I picked at a loose string on my sleeve before look up at Lára. "Jón held her as if never to let her go."

"She was distraught and he was readily available."

"Stefán was also there, yet she chose my husband." I cocked my head to the side. "María was not at the gathering. Perhaps she—"

"Do not say that, Valdís." Lára's voice was hard. "You are old enough to know that your words will have consequences. As I said, the men will inform us of what has happened when they return."

I could not feel sorrow for the woman who had just lost her husband. Never had I seen any closeness between the two of them. "I do not believe her tears to be real. She did not love Ragnar. She loves Jón." I had always known the words to be true, but they hurt to be said aloud.

"You are the woman who is married to him, not María, not anyone else. You are carrying his child and you shall bare him many more." It was evident that Lára was trying to raise my spirits, but forlorn thoughts still filled my mind.

"María is now free to do as she pleases. Jón could leave me and marry her. If Jón were to leave me, I would have nothing... just as I did when I first arrived."

There was no chance for Lára to answer me for the door of the longhouse opened and we could hear our husbands enter. We both stood and pushed back the drapes to enter the main section of the house. Stefán sat down heavily, his face drawn and his hands clasped together. Jón stood near the fire, staring into the flames. I could see that he was thinking very deeply, most likely about María.

"Tell us what has happened," Lára said as she drew close to her husband's side.

"He was dead in his bed. There were no signs of violence, he was not murdered. It seems he died in his slumber." Stefán's voice was weary, making him sound older than he truly was.

Lára and I exchanged glanced but no words passed between us. Jón stayed quiet throughout the whole ordeal, making us almost forget his presence. The night was late and we were all tired, although the death in the village had awakened us quite a bit.

"Jón," I whispered as I placed a hand on his arm. I could feel his body tighten as he looked up, his eyes locking with mine. A frown creased his face and there was a small line between his brows.

"What?" His voice was hoarse and irritated as if I had interrupted something very important.

"We should return to our home," I told him softly, my eyes pleading with him to say yes.

He nodded and brought himself away from the fire, making his way to the door. I followed behind him, bidding goodnight to Lára and Stefán before we stepped out into the night air.

I could not help but glance to my left, down the hill towards the house where María's husband had just died. I had not been around death since the night Magnús had passed. A cold chill travelled down my spine as I turned my back on the house and quickly walked to my husband's side.

"Where will María stay tonight?" I asked, quickly glancing up at Jón.

His jaw was clenched. "She will be with Astrid's until the burial." I did not like the idea of her staying with the healer as her house was near ours whereas María's was on the other side of the village. "They will prepare Ragnar in the morning."

Silent dread filled me as I thought of how the man's life had been cut so short. He was no older than Jón, yet he would never breathe another breath. I could feel tears brewing behind my eyes but blinked them away. I let out a small, shuddering sigh as leaned into Jón's side, wrapping my arms around his large one. The warmth and solidness of him comforted and calmed me. It was strange how as my pregnancy went on, I grew more possessive of my husband.

oOo

On a hill away from the village, barely visible past the tree line, was a pyre where the dead would be burned. Villagers slowly made their way to the top of the hill to pay their respects to the dead man, some mourning and some celebrating his full life.

I walked with Lára and the children, little Margrét holding tightly to my hand. Jón and Stefán were absent from our walk having accompanied a handful of men to prepare the pyre on the hill earlier in the morning. The walk up the hill exhausted me, but I did not complain.

As we drew close to the pyre I spotted Jón and Stefán at the front of the crowd. We pushed our way through towards our husbands stopping just short of the pyre. Margrét moved to stand in front of me, leaning against my rounded stomach with my hands on her small shoulders.

Ragnar's body lay high on the pyre ready to be burned and sent to the Gods. He was dressed in his best clothes with ring adorning his fingers and his hair brushed out carefully. It was the finest I had ever seen him as was appropriate.

With the villagers gathered Stefán stepped forward to address us all. He spoke of the life Ragnar led and how he was a great asset to the village. He told of his ancestors and their accomplishments, saying how it was an unfortunate thing that his bloodline had not gone on. With his speech over, Stefán placed the shield Ragnar had used in battle over the dead man's chest and turned to his widow.

María came forward and placed her husband's sword next to him on the pyre, not saying a word as everyone watched her. A solemn look settled on her face as she took her husband's stiff hand. One by one friends of Ragnar came forward to place more grave gifts on the pyre to be burned with the body.

Stefán, Jón and two of the other village men stepped forward with their flints in hand, setting fire to the pyre. It took no time for the dry wood to catch flame and light up the dusk, a pillar of smoke rising high into the sky to carry Ragnar to the Gods.

With the pyre and her husband now burning brightly, María turned her back and walked towards the village. "That is the sight of a free woman," an elderly woman said from behind me.

"Things will be different now, will they not?" I asked Jón, noting the way he watched María disappear down the hill.

The silence that followed my question was enough of an answer.