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Author's Chapter Notes:
many thanks to my faithful reviewers and I hope that all the Americans had a lovely Thnaksgiving
The food was finished; William didn’t think he’d ever felt so full on a normal day. Feast days were different and this rivalled any feast he’d been to, but for a normal meal, this much food, and choices! His mother would love it. Not even the slaves, thralls, went hungry: the Lady Buffy had ensured that their bowls had been filled, and there was more than enough bread to go round. Following the main dishes huge boiled puddings had been placed on the tables and everyone had filled up on them. William tasted the pudding carefully at first: the taste exploded onto his tongue. There was a richness from the suet, but spices and honey as well. Nuts, vine fruits… He hadn’t seen this much luxury in a long time. His father’s table couldn’t afford to spend money on galingale, saffron, cloves or cinnamon, and here they were together in pudding, a pudding that was being served to everyone at the table, those above and below the salt. The jugs being passed round had hot apple ale in them, again spiced and rich; there was beer and small-beer as well. Tara looked like she was really enjoying talking with Willow. William took another mouthful of the pudding. Connor shoved a dish of butter at him and gestured for him to try it. It was again flavoured with spices and some form of alcohol. It tasted very sweet; perhaps it was strong mead. The food was amazing but the one thing he was really enjoying was the horn spoon. He hated the feel of wood in his mouth, and a horn spoon was a real treat.

When the talk quietened and the eating slowed the woman who had been sitting by Xander got up and went to the back of the benches. She picked up a bundle, a baby, and made her way to the middle of the floor. She stood proudly but William noticed she was shaking.

‘Xander,’ she started, ‘I have born a child, a boy: I claim him as yours. Do you accept the claim?’

She was shaking even more as Xander looked dumbstruck and he didn’t say a word: he couldn’t believe it. Olaf dug him in the ribs.

‘Either accept Anya’s claim or not, but say something!’ he laughed.

‘I’m a father?’ Xander yelled.

Anya nodded. ‘You’re a father, if you accept the claim.’

‘I’m a dad!’ he yelled and jumped up and ran round and hugged Anya hard, the baby making noises at being disturbed. Xander pulled back the blanket. ‘My son,’ he said in wonder.

Connor laughed at his friend’s behaviour. ‘You have to accept the child, Xander, you haven’t said yes yet!’

Xander looked deep into the woman’s eyes. ‘I accept the claim: this is my son.’
Everyone started clapping and cheering, waking the child up. Anya was being thoroughly kissed, but she broke free and took the child away from the ecstatic Xander and went back to her bench. She freed the brooch on her gown and slipped the child inside the outer dress; the squalling quickly stopped as the boy began to feed.

‘What would have happened to the child and woman if Xander hadn’t accepted?’ Tara whispered quietly to Willow.

Willow looked puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’ She asked, choosing a nut from the bowl in front of her.

‘If Xander had refused the claim, what would have happened?’

‘Oh I see: well, nothing. Anya has her own place at this fire her own rank, and she can bring a child to it as much as any man can. If for some reason Xander had refused, or even if Anya had refused to acknowledge Xander, the child would still be welcome.’

‘Why would she not acknowledge the man?’

‘Every woman has that choice, and if she had fun for one night with him, her rank would see the child right. It’s different if you are a thrall: then it would be up to Lady Buffy. If we had too many mouths to feed then the child would be left to die if nobody wanted it. You need a man then to give the child rank and position but for the free women here, our children are ours until we choose a man to accept them: ours is the risk in childbed, ours the duty to see them raised right. It’s not the same for you then?’

‘Well no, if a woman has a child without marriage she and the child would be disgraced, often killed automatically; the child is a bastard, the woman would have no choice but to sell herself, or more likely the child would be taken from her and she would be sent to a Convent in disgrace.’

Willow looked horrified. What sort of society would blame a child for its birth? Would blame the mother for a gift sent from The Gods themselves?

Willow had to ask. ‘What if the child is the result of force being used? Surely the mother would be cared for then?’

Tara shook her head, tears in her eyes, her thoughts on Harmony. ‘No, she would still be blamed.’

‘Dreadful,’ Willow muttered, and wondered what other differences they would find between Saxon and Northman. It was the first time she’d ever had the chance to talk to a Saxon, or even a Christian.

Connor leaned back on his bench; he held his drinking horn out while Buffy filled it again with the hot apple ale. It tasted sweet on his tongue and he savoured the taste; it felt so good to be home. Tara seemed to be enjoying Willow’s company, and William was eating and just people-watching. He didn’t seem as nervous now, which was good as well.

Buffy started signalling to the two thralls, Andrew and Jon, to clear the tables and start on the clearing up. They carried the huge cauldron of water around the tables and everyone washed their own bowl, plate and spoon, William and Tara following what the others did.
As soon as the tables were cleared, they were taken down and stacked and the talking started properly. The talk carried on long into the night, talk that didn’t include either William or Tara. The sooner they learnt to speak Norse the better. Buffy tried to talk with William but he kept getting tongue tied, lost in her green eyes. Buffy smiled and started talking to Connor, but William was grateful they talked in his language: she was trying to include him and he was grateful for her kindness.

The talk was of adventures on the voyage and of minor victories at home. There had been calves born and a good summer of crops, all of which were safely gathered in. Buffy had a glint in her eye though.

‘Tomorrow starts the great slaughter: you came home just in time.’

Connor groaned: part of him had hoped he’d escaped the Bloodmoon duties, but the Gods hadn’t been with him, they’d been on Buffy’s side.

‘We also have to give thanks for you home; we have a goat set aside for the sacrifice,’ Buffy added. ‘We really owe the Gods this year, things have gone well and we must thank them properly.’

That Connor couldn’t argue with that. They had done well, but Buffy seemed uneasy, as though she had something else to say.

‘We have to tell you something else. This summer we had unwanted visitors: we were raided.’

Connor choked on his drink. Raided? But everyone was safe. He waited for Buffy to continue.

‘They demanded we feed them, so we did. Willow poisoned the stew: none of us ate from that bowl. It cost us a pottery cooking pot, we smashed it to ensure no-one else would die from the poisonous Destroying Angel mushrooms, then we burnt the bowls and spoons. When they were very ill from the vomiting we killed them all: it was a quicker death than the mushroom would give them.’

Connor nodded at that.

‘We informed the Thing and it went down as a lawful killing,’ continued Buffy. ‘We put half the spoils aside against Halfdan the Reeve coming for his master’s taxes, but the rest we kept. You have another ship now, and weaponry, and we have silk for next year’s trading.’

William felt ill at this beautiful woman talking so easily about killing off a boatload of men.

‘How many dead?’ Asked Connor.

‘Ten,’ came the reply. ‘They were Jutlandar, and had been harrying the coast up and down the Trondelag for months. The Jarl had sent out boats after them, they took refuge here but demanded that we shelter them: they threatened us all. I wasn’t having that, Connor.’

‘Nor should you. I think I have to agree with my Father, Buffy: you truly are descended from the Valkyrie.’

It was late and Buffy had told their main news to Connor. She rose and suggested, pointedly, that it was time to cover the fire: the children had long taken to their sleeping places. The thralls finished clearing the area around the raised fire, pulling the dirt up and over the hot coals so they would still be alight in the morning. A pot of porridge was put in the ashes to cook slowly overnight.

Tara looked around, wondering where or with whom she was supposed to sleep. Buffy walked over to Willow.

‘Will you have Tara to your sleeping area tonight?’

Willow nodded and led the way to her place on the raised benches: thick blankets and furs were waiting for them. Willow undid the straps on her over dress, it had been fastened with two small broaches, and carefully laid them aside, she then slipped off her overdress and slid under the blankets and signalled for Tara to follow.

Connor showed William a place on the benches a little way from the fire: the more important you were to the family and the Hall the closer to the fire you slept. There were blankets aplenty to keep him warm. In fact he was given more covers than he had at the monastary. A cloak was found for him to use as a pillow and he soon settled down. The feather-bed under him was soft and comfortable, the blankets thick and warm. He soon was slumbering.

Connor took his place in the shut bed in the corner, pulling the sides closed to keep out the noise. Buffy snuggled into her bedding near the fire. She could see the newcomer in the light that was left in the embers. He was young; Goddess was she ever that young? And he was handsome, but shy. Well, they would care for the strangers until they returned home. Good that the girl Tara should share with Willow; that would protect her name for when she returned to her own people. Buffy had dealt with Saxons before and had no love for their ways. She could hear the sounds of people making love: that would be Anya and Xander, or Olaf and Helga. No, it was getting louder: definitely Anya. She smiled and settled down to her own sleep, lulled by the sounds of the hall.





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