Gyda Fiskwif and her all-women crew of Viking merchants set out to Al-Andalus only to discover that treachery, rather than treasure, lies in wait. A vengeful fire to reclaim her ship, her treasure, and her crew's freedom sets Gyda on a harrowing journey through Dyflin (Dublin), Jórvík (York), and eventually to the distant Norse settlements of Iceland at the height of the Viking Age. A saga of seasalt, blood, and gold, Ran's Daughters is a female-driven Viking epic like no other.
Gyda Fiskwif and her all-women crew of Viking merchants set out to Al-Andalus only to discover that treachery, rather than treasure, lies in wait. A vengeful fire to reclaim her ship, her treasure, and her crew's freedom sets Gyda on a harrowing journey through Dyflin (Dublin), Jórvík (York), and eventually to the distant Norse settlements of Iceland at the height of the Viking Age. A saga of seasalt, blood, and gold, Ran's Daughters is a female-driven Viking epic like no other.
It is well known that when a child on the shore waves to their parent as they stand in the beast-prow of a ship of oak, journeying from the home-fjord to a far land and plunder beyond reckoning, that child goes away from the sight wishing to one day sail the swan-road after them. Often, they do. Still more often, they die in the doing.
Thus, it should also be known that such aspiring sea-striders must learn.
Cracked hands and sunbaked skin teach the lesson of how salt and heat can dry you like jerky, and kill if left too long without fresh water. Broken backs and snapped oars teach how the god Njörd wrestles with rowers, hoping to drown them. Thus, muscles must strengthen until arms and necks are as corded as the ropes that lash the sail and until the hull of the vessel cuts through waves like a thief’s knife through purse strings.
The most important lesson a child must learn before anything else is that an ocean storm can be worse than battle. Worse than standing in a broken shield-wall with your closest kin bleeding and dying on either side. Worse even than the splitting, gushing death of mothers when a babe comes too early or too swiftly. Worse still than drowning in a river after falling out of a fishing boat, for though that is a straw-death, the drowned can still claim the simple glory of the desire to feed their families.
But drowning in a storm is not glorious. It is the way to be forgotten. For who will remember the drowned? There are so many it would take a skald endless nights to recite them all.
There are no sagas of drowned sailors. But what child thinks of that?
Sometimes, a few hardened voyagers return to the home-fjord with tales of adventure, of the letting of blood and of bright, shining silver. And those are the tales that are most dangerous, for children will dream despite the danger, and dreams of that kind do not fade with time.
It had proved thus for Gyda Fiskwif years before, when she had been that child waving to a parent who never came home. So it would prove again for years onward, until the burning of the world at Ragnarök.
Gyda Fiskwif may be the widow of an oath-man turned fisherman, but she fought her way from scraping fish guts to commanding her own ship with an all-female crew, Rán's Daughters. Widows, runaways and outcasts, the six women bonded over their desire to forge their own path in a hostile world, and the Sea-Wolf and its crew have a reputation for being reliable Viking merchants. As the women make their way to al-Andalus, they are hoping to successfully complete a job that will make them rich beyond their imagination. Instead, they find the haunting shadow of something Gyda did catching up to them. With her back against the wall, Gyda has to make a heartbreaking decision that costs her everything she worked hard for - her beloved ship, the treasure stowed on it, and the five women she calls her chosen family.
As doors close on her at every step, Gyda has to escape the spiral of guilt and anger to use her contacts and talents to try and reclaim what was stolen from her. In a brutal world full of violence and betrayal, she uses every bit of leverage to try and further her interests, secure her legacy and redeem herself to the few people that still care about her.
It's absolutely wonderful to have a female main character in her forties who has depth, grit, and complexity. Gyda is quick to anger, vengeful to the point of pettiness sometimes, but genuine and caring in her own way. Outspoken and unafraid to follow up her biting words with fists or blades, her sharp tongue and rashness keep getting her into trouble, even earning her the nickname of Grim-Bitch among King Sigtryggr's men.
The book is meticulously researched and beautifully written, with immersive and authentic dialogue, exciting action scenes and fascinating politics and intrigue. The story explores the different roles available to women in society at the time, and Gyda stands out for trying to make her own fortune on her own terms. There's an interesting contrast between Gyda's choice to be fiercely independent and never put her fortunes in the hands of a man and her friend Eir's choice of a stable marriage in order to secure her position in society and have a family. The story showcases each woman's path without condemnation or judgement, instead highlighting the strength and authenticity of each character. There is, however, an awareness and honesty in the portrayal of how limited and controlled a woman's rise in society was.
The deepest and most interesting dynamics are among the Daughters of Rán - their sisterhood, banter, and general badassery would be enough for an entire series of books dedicated to their adventures. The inclusion of LGBTQ characters such as the couple Guðrun and Rúna and the loyal Irishman Ruarc who is like a son to Gyda is organic and great representation. Additionally, another of Rán's Daughters, Liadan, cannot speak due to a serious injury, and uses sign language with the other members of the crew. There is also cultural diversity, with Nashwa and her daughter Hadiyya representing strong and determined Muslim women.
Rán's Daughters is everything historical fiction should be: a beautifully and thoughtfully crafted story told in a bold voice, brutal and honest when it needs to be, promoting diversity, celebrating the strength and resilience of women and female friendship, and brimming with authenticity and respect for the historical period it portrays.