During the first week that the men were gone, life in the village carried on much as it had before. The women took on the roles the men had left behind, balancing them with their own. The children could be seen following their mothers and grandmothers about, assisting with the chores. In the evening when the jobs were complete and the meals were eaten, the children could be heard chasing each other in the fields and forest surrounding the village. Once the light of the day faded, the women would gather their children and the village would fall quiet. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that the village was more peaceful than ever before.

It was during these evenings that I would leave my house and make my way to the cliff overlooking the bay. The sun disappeared on the horizon, causing the water to shimmer yellow and orange. There were no ships in sight, something that both frightened and revealed me. It would be months before the men returned, but the empty sea was a constant reminder that the boat they had left in might never return to the safety of the harbour. But a clear sea also meant that there were no raiders coming for our village.

With our men gone on their own raid, it would be nothing for a ship of strange men to arrive and take what and who they wanted from our village. I could not imagine anyone being enemies of our quiet village, but what would stop raiders from entering the village?

Closing my eyes I wrapped my thin cloak tightly around my growing body and turned away from the sea. I had to rid myself of any negative thoughts that plagued me. Perhaps if I were to pray to the Gods, nothing bad would befall us. I opened my eyes, glanced once more at the open sea and began down the path to the house I kept with Jón, remembering the nights when I would walk to the gate and see him working in the yard.

Entering the house I poked at the fire, causing it to grow larger and heat more of the house. Although the days were warm, even uncomfortably at times, the nights would become chilly with the wind blowing off the ocean. Without Jón's side to curl into, I found myself wrapped in the heavy blankets, breathing in the scent of my husband.

Anytime I had alone, which seemed to be more as the days stretched on, my thoughts were on María and the thoughts Stefán had left me with. He had warned me away from her, something I would not argue with, but from what I had seen since arriving to the village, she was unpredictable.

I had only caught quick glances of her since the men left, but she kept her head down and moved quickly. There were rumours that she would only leave her house in the earliest hours of morning or in the cloak of darkness. The women muttered that she had been emotionally harmed when Jón had spurned her and did not wish to be seen for her tears were never-ending.

There was still speculation floating around the village about Ragnar's death, but no one had come forward to place their suspect on the wife of the late man. Without solid proof, no one dared to make that kind of accusation.

On a calm evening of the forth week Lára accompanied me to Astrid's small hovel to find a cure for my swollen extremities. My fingers had grown steadily in the passing weeks, enough that I was forced to remove the ring Jón had given me upon our marriage in fear it would stop the blood flow. I had left the ring tucked into a chest for safe keeping, but every night I would remove it and study it to remind me of my husband.

As Lára and I drew closer to the house, the sound of two voices conversing floated to our ears. "Perhaps we should turn back and leave her with her visitor," I said, about to turn away from the door and leave.

"It will be fine, we only need a moment of her time," Lára assured me, bringing her small fist up to knock loudly on the door.

The two voices inside feel silent and there was the shuffling of someone moving to the door before it opened to reveal Astrid. Looking over the old woman's shoulder I spotted María perched on one of the benches lining the walls with a drinking horn cradled in her hands. She raised her eyes to meet mine, her brows furrowing.

"Valdís is in need of your assistance," Lára told Astrid, bringing my attention back to the reason of our visit.

I held out my puffy hands for her to see. "I am in need of something to bring down the swelling my pregnancy has caused."

Astrid took my hands in her cold, bony ones and turned them over, studying the palms. "My poor girl, I have just the thing to help you." She ushered us into the house and turned her attention to María who was now standing.

"I will take my leave," she announced, placing the drinking horn on the bench. "Far vel, Astrid." María nodded to Lára as she passed; only glancing at me for but a moment. Her eyes fell on my left hand, still encased in Astrid's, and she hesitated momentarily before continuing out the door.

When the door closed, Astrid let go of my hand and walked to the far side of the house, stopping at a small shelf next to her cot. "These are the ground leaves of stinging nettles. Mix it with boiled water and drink with each meal. The swelling in your hands and feet will reduce." A small smile played at the corners of her mouth. "Had I not told you the herbs from before would do their job?"

I gave a laugh and exchanged looks with Lára, knowing that there was a large chance the herbs had no role to play in my pregnancy. "Yes, you had. I will admit I am very pleased with the result."

"I do not get many visitors with no men in the village to cause worry; stay for a short time." With those words she turned her back and began to mix a pinch of the herbs with the water she had hanging in a pot over the fire. She poured it in a drinking horn and passed it to me, asking Lára if she would care for ale. The other woman declined and sat next to me on the bench.

"It is strange to see María," Lára mused. "She has not let her face be seen during the daylight hours for some time."

"She tends to pay most of her visits during the late hours of the day. I see more of her than any other woman," Astrid explained, cleaning the drinking horn María had used and hanging from a hook on the wall.

"Is she ailing?" Lára asked, her thin brows drawn together tightly.

"Oh, no, she merely seeks the company of a person willing to listen to her worries and fears." Astrid took a seat on a chair across from us and rubbed at her elbow with a low groan. "She has told me I am one of the wisest in the village."

"And you are," I agreed, sipping at the tea. The warmth of the liquid felt pleasant as it made its way down my throat, but the taste was something I could do without. "María will not speak to any of the other women in the village."

Astrid sighed and gave her head a small shake. "She does not have many companions in the village, it is true. I offer my company to those who need it, even if I do not agree with them on most subjects."

"And what might those subjects be?" Lára asked, her voice now holding the tone of a chieftain's wife.

"Many things, but I am a woman of my words and have promised to keep her thoughts and concerns to myself."

"Did she kill her husband? Is she the reason Ragnar is no longer with us?" I shut my mouth tightly as the words hung in the air around us. "I am sorry for my brash words..."

Lára took in a sharp breath and shot me a look of contempt, but Astrid's face was passive. "It would be a dishonour for me to keep such information to myself, not only to the village but to myself. I will tell you the truth of what I know: María has not mentioned her husband to me, not once have I heard his name cross her lips. But healthy men do not parish at home."

The ominous words that were so close to Stefán's sent shivers down my spine. I wished to know the truth about Ragnar's death, as I knew the rest of the villagers did, but I was glad that the healing woman did not have a role to play in his untimely death.

Astrid waved her hand in the air as if trying to banish the thick silence between us. "This is enough talk of the past; we must focus on the present. Have you recently had dreams to inform you about your child?"

I gave my head a shake. "No dreams have come to me since the men left." I finished the last few drops of the drink and sat down the drinking horn. "I will love my child no matter what it is. But Jón, I am afraid he will not accept a daughter..."

Both of the other women fell quiet for a moment, neither meeting my eyes. Lára cleared her throat, but it was Astrid who was the first to speak. "The thoughts that come from a man's mind cannot always be predicted. It is true that some men would not be pleased with a daughter; not all of them can act as our chieftain has. I have known Jón Pálsson since he was but a boy and he has grown more stubborn with age. But he is not as heartless as one might think."

"I cannot put my fears to rest. I have grown to love my husband, but..." I placed my hands over my stomach. "I cannot help but doubt him at times."

Lára let out a laugh, a sound that rarely came from her mouth. "Valdís, all women have doubt in their husbands at some point in their lives together. It is the only way to live with a man. If you were to hold your husband above all else, you would live a life of sorrow."

Giving a small smile at the comforting words, I nodded and thanked her. "And, Astrid, thank you for the herbs."

The healer pressed the small pouch of nettle leaves into my hand and I placed them in my belt for safe keeping. Lára followed me to the door where we said our farewells to the healer and began toward the main road that lead into the village.

We walked in silence as we usually did and parted ways at the bottom of the hill. Lára began her climb up the hill towards the centre of the village and I turned and walked down the road to the farm on the edge of the village.

My house was warm when I entered and I removed my cloak, hanging it next to the door. Yawning, I placed my left hand over my mouth, noticing the bareness of it. I moved to the back of the house and to the chest near the foot of the bed. Opening the chest I removed the top layer of dresses and reached down into the corner of the chest where I kept my wedding ring safely wrapped in cloth. My fingers dusted over the sheath of Magnús' sword and wrapped around the swaddled cloth.

I unwrapped the ring and watched as it gleamed in the dim light of the fire. It was thick gold with a simple pattern pressed into it. Even through the ups and downs of my marriage to Jón, I had never once taken it off. It pained me not to be able to wear it, but I hoped with the herbs Astrid had given me, I could soon put it back in its proper place on my finger. Closing my fist around it, I placed it against my heart, sending a prayer to the Gods for them to protect my husband and the other men of the village.

Far vel = Goodbye