She walked towards the statue of Ing, upon which the cupper brown stains were still clearly visible. So short after Yuletide she had not expected it, but she was pleased when she saw the dried up blood upon the oak.

The oaths had been made, the boar slaughtered, its head been placed upon the table and then they had slain the chosen slaves. Blood of men and beasts had been cast over the statue of Ing and over the guests as a blessing.

In her cowardice she had not dared to watch and turned her head when she heard the screams. She had cried when the others laughed and cheered, but her mistress had placed a hand on her shoulder and soothed her.

" They are in world of the dead", she had told her, " Feasting and drinking in a way that makes our feast but a poor meal. We'll all go there eventually. You will see him again."

And she had nodded and sobbed. It was unfair they had only chosen men, she thought.

But as she touched the dark stains and stroked the wood of Ing's image, she could almost feel his presence. After all it was his blood...

Soon they would be reunited in death. Perhaps not feast at Woden's hall, for that was only for the bravest, an honour not given to slaves and women, but there were many halls in which the slain dwelled.

The mistress was waiting for her outside ofthe sacred grove. Although a slave, she had cared for the girl and shared many secrets with her.

" Come", she said," You must sleep well for tomorrow you'll have to be more beautiful than ever. I'll miss you..."

And so it befell that the next day, after a quiet morning and afternoon, she stood at the feet of her lord. He lay peacefully upon his pyre, sword clenched in his fists, his eyes closed, sleeping under the rays of a setting sun. He had not died a warrior's death and would not pass on to the hall of the fallen, but in silence she was grateful for that, for she knew where they were going instead.

The priestess sang the incantations, ensuring a safe journey. Then the poets recited his deeds and sang a lament in his honour, for even though not taken by the sword, he was still a worthy man.

The hag gestured her to come, and the girl cast one last look at her mistress. Then she went over to the priestess and gritted her teeth.

It did not hurt as much as she had thought when the iron pierced her flesh. The old woman's hand was steady, and the girl felt how warm liquid poured over her belly and soaked her clothes. She sank down into the grass and she saw herself lying there.

Then the grey clouds were pushed aside and a rainbow appeared...