The Betrothed Sister by Carol McGrath Read Free Book Online Page A

Norway, had given battle to Thea’s father at Stamford Bridge while the Normans had landed in the south, in that fateful late summer of 1066. Thea considered it only just that King Harald and her treacherous Uncle Tostig, who had allied with the Norwegian king, had both died in the battle at Stamford Bridge. Between them, they had deliberately weakened the English army by their attempted invasion. Was it because Harald of Norway was planning to carve England up with Duke William of Normandy; for him the Danish north and for Duke William the south? Nobody knew the truth of it, but whatever Harald of Norway was planning when he sailed down the Northern sea road with his war fleet, he was, at least in part, responsible for her father, Harold of England’s defeat, his death at Senlac and that of her two noble uncles, Uncle Gyrth and Uncle Leofwine.
    Somehow she must dwell in peace with this difficult woman. She must try to put her own ill will behind her. If only Ingegerd would show her a little warmth, perhaps the chilly Danish princesses might also welcome her into their circle. But this cold-hearted daughter of Norway, black-eyed, dark-haired Ingegerd, threw confiding smiles at her sisters-in-law when Thea entered the stuffy, carpeted sewing chamber. As they stitched, she cast polite looks cold as winter frost in Thea’s direction, and Thea despaired because she could not penetrate those unsmiling obsidian eyes; eyes that held not a scrap of emotion and clearly wished her ill.
    Thea had to sleep in the women’s chamber in a curtained-off boxed bed that she shared with Gudrun. The Danish princesses had a whole room to themselves, one that was set apart from the women’s work chamber, whereas in the women’s room there was little privacy. Thea felt the princesses’ maids watching her at night until she pinched out her candle and pulled the coarse linen curtain against their sidelong glances. She suspected that they sniggered behind her back when they lay down on pallets close by.
    Although the princesses had maids to wait on them, Thea had to fetch her own washing water and empty her own chamber pot before the Danish princesses arrived each day to sew. Grandmother Gytha, on the other hand, had been allotted her own chamber. She passed her days with Queen Elizaveta in a private antechamber behind the king’s hall, comfortably ensconced far away from the tensions of the sewing room.
    When she complained to Countess Gytha, Gytha drew her close, stroked her hair with her skeletal fingers and said, ‘Thea, raise your head and ignore them. Wait your time for action with patience. When it arrives you will outshine them all. If you do you must have a degree of humility and elegance. There must be no childish tit for tat. Now smile.’
    â€˜Yes, Grandmother. I promise to behave with decorum. I shall try.’ She smiled, though tears filled her eyes as she did.
    Thea had never felt so alone. She prayed to St Theodosia daily that her situation might change; even hoping that Sweyn might find her an acceptable husband very soon so she could escape.
    After a week of prayer her saint answered her plea. No husband in the offing, but the talk was of their removal to a royal palace at Roskilde. It was apparent that this was where the princesses spent their winters and, since Roskilde was an island, soon they would be making another sea journey. Then, thrilling news reached the sewing chamber. As they prepared to leave, the princesses announced that a visit from the court of Kiev was imminent.
    Thea stopped sewing. She looked towards the closed circle as the girls’ chatter became even more interesting. Prince Vsevolod, brother to the Grand Prince of Kiev and brother to Queen Elizaveta, sought a wife for his son, fifteen-year-old Prince Vladimir.
    â€˜He is exactly my age, well, probably a few months older,’ Thea ventured, attempting to join in the conversation.
    The princesses haughtily looked