It was long since night when my house finally returned to its normal, peaceful state. The men and women of the village had followed us to the homestead from the shore, ignoring the treasures on the newly returned ships. Their kindness filled my heart as they promised to send many prayers to the God's on my husband's behalf.

Astrid had only just left, her old head hung as she informed me there was nothing more she could do to help him for the night. She had washed away the blood, cutting away the old skin to reveal the fresh, pink skin underneath. Honey had been taken from the shelf and placed on the wound with promises of keeping sickness at bay.

Lára had kept me from the back of the house as the healing woman did her work, whispering in my ear that the Gods would make things well. My body had been tense in her arms as I tried to keep the sobs contained in my chest. Tears had rushed down my cheeks, falling onto the dark fabric of Lára's smock.

The woman now sat near the fire, her husband looking grim beside her, a steady hand placed on her shoulder. I sat in silence, my eyes focused on the face of chieftain, waiting for him to speak. When it was evident that no words would leave his mouth, I allowed them to leave mine. "Please, Stefán, tell me what has caused this to happen."

Stefán continued his silence for a long moment before meeting my eyes and speaking. "He received the wound to his leg during the raid. Jón is a strong but stubborn man. He would not allow anyone to tend to him until we were finished. It was cleaned and covered and did not give him much pain. We did not worry for him. Upon sailing home he would not rest and allow it to heal; it grew worse and he grew weak." I could see Stefán's jaw clench hard under his beard. "For long periods he would sleep and take in very little food. The morn before we arrived home he slept and did not wake. I am sorry, Valdís."

"Do not be foolish, Stefán." I forced a small smile onto my tight face. "You could not have prevented this – Jón is too stubborn." No, the only way for this to have been prevented would have been if Jón had not gone on the raid, something I knew he would never agree to. "May I see him now?" I cast a worried glance towards the back of the house before looking back at Stefán.

"Of course, he is your husband after all," the chieftain consented.

Lára stood and placed a hand on her husband's arm. "We will leave you now, Valdís, you need your rest. I will return in the morning."

I bid them both a goodnight and watched them from the door until their receding forms disappeared. A stronger woman I had never meant, but when walking with her husband and not plagued by children Lára always held her husband's arm.

The couple was long out of my sight when I finally closed the door and turned back to the house. I wanted nothing more than to see Jón, but I could barely lift my feet to walk to the bed.

A deep sickness settled in my large stomach as I looked down at my husband. With his eyes closed and his breathing deep, one would think he was only resting after a tiresome raid. Sweat drenched his forehead and hair, prompting me to fetch a damp rag and press it to his face in attempt to cool him from his fever.

Pushing back the heavy blankets, the sight of his wrapped leg made me shudder. Fresh blood had already seeped through the cloth, startling crimson against his pale skin. The healer had explained to me, after my hysterics had calmed, that the weapon had torn into the sinewy muscle below. If he woke he could have a limp and the pain could follow him throughout life. She also explained that the fever was what kept him in such a deep sleep, and if it broke he would wake.

I removed the bindings, allowing the open wound to breath, as I placed them in the water basin to soak. I gently bound clean clothes around the wound, watching Jón's face for any signs of change. When there were none I sighed. It was clear he would either recover or perish.

Pulling the blankets back into place and tucking them tight, I placed a kiss to Jón's warm lips, wishing they would find the strength to kiss me back. I stroked his heavily bearded cheek, gave him a tiny smile and turned to the front of the house where I would sleep on one of the benches lining the wall. It was not until I lay down and my muscles relaxed that my mind started to run.

Was this my curse rearing its ugly head after two years of slumber? I shuddered to think of the curse that had killed my betrothed returning to kill my husband. My head spun and my stomach gave a strong twist. I could not take another death; Pétur, my parents, Magnús and now perhaps Jón.

Had you not wished him dead before? A vicious voice in my head whispered. You are a beauty, any man would take you as a bride – you are not feared as Maria is.

I buried my face into my hands, willing the voice to stop. If anything were to happen, I could easily take my own life with his sword. Yet there was our child; even if I waited until after the birth, I could not let the babe be left without parents – without any family.

Tears slipped down my cheeks as these dark thoughts plagued me. No, I would do anything in my power to make certain my husband survived this blight. I would send prayers every morning and night to the Gods for their strength to survive this. I would sacrifice as many sheep as needed to appease them. I would keep an eye on Jón, making sure he took in any food and drink that he could – I would keep Maria away from him.

I had not seen the woman since the ship had returned. She had not joined the crowd that had accompanied us back to the house, much to my relief. I did not wish to deal with that hora while my husband possibly lay dying.

Somehow through these thoughts my mind and body grew tired and I welcomed the darkness surrounding me.

oOo

I rose with the sun and soon found myself perched on the edge of the bed, staring into my husband's face. He had not shifted position during the night, no doubt in too much pain to do so. I would wait until Lára arrived before I attempt to feed him, something I did not know how to do.

Quickly readying for the day I pulled on a dress, struggling to get it over my stomach, but breathing a sigh when it was in place. With my hair in a braided crown and a simple morning-meal in my stomach I proceeded with turning all of my attention onto my ailing husband.

His beard had grown into a wild nest while he had been away, hiding his strong jawline and handsome features. Gathering his razor and scissors from the pouch hanging on the wall and a small jug of water, I carefully set to trimming the hair away, careful not to nick the skin. A small tumour ran through my hand as I focused on my task; I had not shaved anyone since Afi, who although able, had a constant shake to his hands.

Finishing the task I put away the tools and touched the neatly trimmed beard. "Jón, please wake, my love. You must; soon we will have a strong son who will be in need of a name," I cooed, taking in every small detail of his face. Without the long beard I could clearly see the changes in him. His cheeks were sunken from the lack of food and his face was dark from the sun.

From the front of the house I could hear the door open and knew it was Lára before a word could escape her mouth. She appeared from behind the curtain, her eyes briefly on Jón before landing on my face. "He does not look like a wild man." A small smile played on her lips.

"He had looked like a stranger," I replied.

"Have you fed him yet?" she inquired as I stood and walked with her to the fire.

Shaking my head, I took the iron and poked at the fire, causing it to leap and build.

"Broth will keep him strong until he wakes and can feed himself. Prepare some fish stock and allow it to cool."

Lára kept me company as I brewed the stock over the fire. She described the goods the men had returned with: jewels, weapons and cloth as well as wheat, grains and animals. It was a very prosperous journey, one they would not hesitate to make again. Stefán, although worried about his friend's state, resumed his spot as chieftain and divided the goods between the families.

Once the stock had finished, Lára assisted me in moving Jón into a sitting position, leaning him back so he would not choke. Sitting next to him I carefully spooned the liquid into his mouth, amazed that once his mouth was closed he would swallow on his own.

"He is not so far gone," Lára mumbled, sitting at the foot of the bed watching us. "Perhaps he will recover. He had never been a man to let anything keep him down."

"You have lived in this village your entire life, have you not?" I asked, realizing that while Lára and I had become close friends during my time here, we never spoke of anything more than the children, our husbands and our work.

"Yes, my father was the chieftain before Stefán. I have known him since birth. He had always shown great potential and it was evident he would become chieftain; our marriage was of no surprise."

"And Jón?" I asked.

"He is younger than Stefán but that never put a hold on their friendship. They were much like brothers."

"When were you wed to Stefán?"

"I had just passed my eighteenth winter when we wed. We were both young, but times were touch with many raids. One never knew how many men would return." Lára and I both fell silent and I finished feeding my husband, glad that he was taking in the food.

"Come, Valdís, allow Jón to rest. I shall assist you with the animals." We left the house and made our way to the pens where the sheep were kept, taking the feed in hand a placing it in the troughs. The sun was bright and the air warm, causing sweat to pool between my breasts as we carried extra wood into the house to keep the fire burning bright.

Once the sun had found its place high in the sky Lára left informing me that she would send her husband and the healer to help with Jón's wound. Astrid arrived with her tools in hand, a wicked looking iron and pincers that seemed that they would do more harm than good. As she readied the tools in my house, Stefán appeared giving me a warm smile.

"I have faith in Astrid," he assured me, seeing me eye the tools warily. "Jón is not the first man she has tended to and he will not be the last."

"We have allowed your husband enough sleep," Astrid said, placing the iron in the fire to heat. "We will close the wound and pray the fever leaves him as well."

I stood near the far wall watching with an uneasy feeling as the healer removed the wrappings from Jón's leg, revealing the wound underneath. Taking the pincers in hand she pulled the skin together tightly, ignoring the deep grunts my husband made. Stefán placed a hand on each of Jón's shoulders, holding him in place.

With her face set in a grimace, Astrid moved quickly pulling the iron from the fire and placing it against Jón's skin, sealing the flesh together. The smell of searing flesh reached my stomach, causing my stomach to roll. Even in his state of unconsciousness Jón let out a howl, struggling against Stefán's hold, his muscles tensing as the skin melted.

Pulling away the iron, Astrid waved it in the air to allow it to cool. "It should not give him anymore trouble."

"Ah," Stefán said letting go of his friend with a loud laugh. "I was hoping he would wake."

Gathering the two tools, Astrid walked to the door, stopping to place a hand on my stomach. "It will only be a matter of day until your babe arrives." She turned her attention then to Stefán. "I recommend your wife stays with Valdís for the remainder of her pregnancy. It shall not be more than two days."

"Two days?" I whispered, grabbing onto the older woman's hand and holding it tightly. "Surely the babe will not be here so quickly!"

"I am rarely wrong with these things, Valdís. I will be back to birth your babe."