The Weight of Legacy and a Sister’s Embrace

Loneliness at night can drive a man to madness.

On lonely nights, the empty space beside him, the large goose-down pillow still retaining his wife’s warmth, was a stark reminder.

Sithi watched the burning candle in silence, the wax slowly melting under the flame’s heat.

“No man would fail to strive for a noble title,” Sithi told himself.

He then spoke to the candle, “My first four sons died young. Who knows if Knutr will survive past his eighth year?”

The candle remained silent, yet seemed to cast a fiery glance at the man, its white wax body shedding a third of its form.

Its seductive gaze was lost on Sithi, who, oblivious, continued, “If Svein could instruct Knutr, with such a skilled physician by his side, Knutr would surely grow up safely.

But that arrogant Northman, so proud of his talents, refuses to even teach his own sister’s son!”

The candle’s flame softened, gazing gently at the troubled man, and shed another third of its white sheath.

As the light dimmed, a veil seemed to fall over Sithi’s consciousness. He closed his eyes, still muttering, “Sar is an excellent heir, but Sar and Svein share no blood.

Should I be called to the Lord, and Knutr unfortunately perish prematurely…

Sar would have no legitimate claim to inherit a barony, nor is the mayor’s seat hereditary. At that point, my family would simply fade into obscurity.”

The candle, simple and innocent, did not comprehend the man’s plight. It only knew it was time for slumber.

With a faint smile, the candle shed its entire white garment, its boneless body melting into a pool of wax.

With a gentle puff from its tiny red mouth, the flame extinguished. It transformed into a wisp of blue smoke, which coiled around the man. With an almost flirtatious grace, it pulled Sithi into the depths of sleep.

****

Days turned into nights, and more than ten days had passed since Anna left Hradec.

Sithi, guarding the empty marital bed, was consumed by sorrow. He had yet to act, as his eldest son, Sar, was still trading in Northern Italy and would not return until autumn.

While Sithi remained despondent, Anna was radiant with joy.

Sithi could never have imagined that his shieldmaiden wife, a woman who yielded to no man, was at that very moment lying in another’s embrace.

Ostrava Barony, Blacksmith’s Cottage, First-Floor Bedroom.

Under the cover of night, Anna and Svein had once again succumbed to their illicit desires.

The man and woman lay intertwined on the large bed, the windows and doors tightly shut, fearful of discovery.

Svein’s room lacked the opulence of the mayor’s bedchamber. The bedding consisted of two or three layers of interwoven fur and thick wool blankets, and there was no spring mattress; medieval beds were simply stuffed with straw.

Anna found the pillow somewhat hard. In the mayor’s mansion, she slept on velvet pillows, and all the bed linen was crafted from fine flax.

The wool felt too scratchy; her sensitive skin, she presumed, disliked it.

With a stretch and a kick of her plump legs, the wool blanket slipped away, revealing her milky-white skin—supple and resilient, as only a woman who had known a man’s touch could be.

In contrast, a virgin like Noren, whose brow remained serene and whose body was untouched, possessed skin as pure and translucent as porcelain, unblemished, like a delicate blue-and-white vase.

Anna rested her head against her brother’s chest, buried in the abundant, unusually soft hair that covered it. She wished she could stay there forever.

“Brother…”

Anna sought another kiss, but the older man deftly avoided her.

Svein stared blankly ahead, his mind recalling Aristotle’s maxims, Plato’s concept of love, and the Saracens’ perverse possessiveness over their wives…

In short, he was in ‘sage mode.’

“Brother!”

A flush spread across Anna’s face, a mixture of anger and petulance. She ran her hand over his powerful chest. “Brother, can we do it again?”

Svein’s lips twitched, his expression distressed. “Anna, are you trying to kill me? To kill me this way?”

“?” Anna tilted her head.

Svein explained, “I’m old now, not like I used to be. Do you think this is still our time in Greece?”

“Brother, you do tell jokes. During our time in Greece, I was serving in the military! Dís was always keeping a close eye on you. How could I have ever made a move? Don’t you dare slander me!”

Anna pouted playfully, her voice brimming with affection.

She truly adored her brother, but she loved Sithi just as much.

Sixteen years prior, after countless sleepless nights spent in contemplation, she had, in fact, engaged in a final passionate encounter with her brother.

She then married Sithi, carrying a full belly.

If you were to ask if Svein was jealous, you’ve certainly asked the right person!

In Norse tradition, inviting guests to share a night with a married couple was considered entirely normal.

Oh, as for whether the male host might be interested in the guest’s backside, that I couldn’t say.

As for Anna’s perspective, she believed that marrying Sithi allowed her to gain his love while still maintaining a connection with her brother. How wonderful was that?

If you were to ask how Dís, as a wife, viewed her husband’s infidelity during the four years before her death…

In truth, no ordinary shieldmaiden would tolerate such a thing, but…

Dís herself was of “pure blood,” and her upbringing had forged an iron will. Yet, precisely because of her family’s incestuous background, Dís personally detested infidelity.

She could tolerate Svein and her sister Anna.

She, however, would never act similarly.

She would neither participate nor merely observe. She disliked such transgressions in her presence, so whenever Anna had finished with her husband, Dís would fiercely scrub him a million times with a boar bristle brush.

Svein, with his thick skin, knew as a man that it was wrong, but could only allow his wife to vent her frustrations.

However, once his wife ascended to Valhalla, Anna completely let loose.

The two frequently met in secret. Before 1066, their rendezvous point was always in the mayor’s mansion, in the room adjacent to the marital bedchamber.

Anna found these acts of infidelity under her husband’s nose incredibly stimulating. She would grow flushed, her mind numb, her ‘beans’ replacing her brain, utterly disregarding the consequences.

If you ask whether Sithi knew, well, guess?

During the spring and summer of 1066, spurred by Noren’s horse purchase and Svein’s prolonged absence,

Anna, aflame with desire, her senses overwhelmed, risked discovery by Noren and crept downstairs in the middle of the night for a secret meeting.

But consider this: Anna was not even a “Hercules” of a woman, possessed no “wondrous items” to conceal her presence, and shared a bed with Noren. It would have been truly difficult *not* to notice!

Noren truly wished she could have chopped the two adulterers into pieces on the spot for their utter lack of marital virtue, but she could only fantasize about it.

One was her biological father, who had raised her with nurturing kindness. The other was her paternal aunt, a blood relative who treated her as her own, showering her with care.

She could only turn a blind eye. She truly wondered what her uncle-by-marriage thought, with such a large, verdant hat perched upon his head…

Outside the bedroom door, Noren leaned against the frame, her hands pressed together. “Amitabha, to the Three Pure Ones above, may the Thunder God protect us, and God bless us. Let these two not step outside and be struck by lightning.”

“And may my mayor-uncle, who knows not what he knows not, forgive this adulterous pair.”

Her prayer concluded, the blonde woman bowed three times to the heavens. Rising, she brushed the dust from her nightgown and, without a backward glance, ascended the stairs to sleep.