by Fiona Faris
“Ye should stay away from her, brother.”
“I was merely askin’ about her past. Maybe we can discover more about the Vikin’s still,” he shrugged as if the matter was no great deal to him. Tadhg could read the lie easily – Gavin was not fond of lies and performed them ill.
As Gavin walked through the castle gate, Tadhg looked back down to the woman in the river.
What are ye hidin’ brother?
Chapter Fourteen
Gavin took every opportunity he could to see Idunn. After finishing his duties, he would sneak away to find her or come up with strange excuses to help her work. She still would not open up to him, refusing to speak of her past or even relax around him. Yet she responded to his kisses, to his touch, and he could not resist her.
“You must stop,” she pushed his hand off her waist. They were standing in the spinning store of wool. She was collecting some of the spun yarn together, folding it, and preparing it for fulling.
“It is difficult to.” He looked around but seeing they were alone in the storeroom, he stole the quickest of kisses from her lips. Her glazed look and smile that teased her pink lips made him happy.
“I was wondering if you would tell me a little more about Scotland,” she broke the silence after a minute, returning her eyes to the piles of wool. He assisted her, collecting the wool from the floor.
“Ah, ye are interested in yer new home?”
“I never said I did not like Scotland.”
“I assumed ye were either indifferent to it or pinin’ for yer old home.”
“I did not say I wasn’t pining either.” She looked back at him with a challenge, stealing one of the sheets of wool from his hand. “I would like to know more about this land, is all.”
“What would ye like to ken?”
“Anything really. Tell me about the clans, their history, your king. The food too. The mead here is so full of spices compared to what I am used to.”
“It is sweeter where ye come from?”
“Much sweeter. And yer weapons are different too.”
“Our weapons? In what way?”
“Why do you not give your swords names? So many of ours are cherished by their owners, passed through generations. That does not seem to be a thing here.”
“It is nae a thing here,” Gavin laughed as he watched Idunn. Her countenance was more jovial than usual as she spoke, showing genuine interest. “Our weapons are considered too easily damaged to grow attached to them.”
“There are the castles too.”
“What about them?”
“We do not have this kind of building.”
“Where does yer leader live? Yer…” Gavin struggled to remember the title she had given back when they had questioned her, “Jarl?”
“The Jarl lives in a wooden longhouse. We all do.” She lifted a nearby basket, placing it by their feet so they could pile up more of the woolen sheets.
“Ye have nay stone buildin’s at all?”
“Only churches. There are a few old fortresses, but they have long been in disrepair.”
“I see me opinion of the mighty warriors of the Vikin’s is quite wrong,” Gavin teased, watching as Idunn turned on him with a dark glare.
“How dare you!” she mockingly rebuked him, elbowing him in his side.
“The Vikin’s are warriors, yet ye have nay stone castles to defend yerselves? Aye, I have been wrong, indeed.”
“Your jest is forgetting that we tend to do the attacking rather than defending.”
“Aye, that is true,” he chuckled, his eyes settling on Idunn as she smiled, “Tell me more about yer life there.” Her smile vanished, and she kept her blue-green eyes on her work. “Please, Idunn.”
She drew out the silence, apparently unafraid to leave him lingering.
“You tell me more of Scotland first.” She tossed one of the woolen sheets into his hands. “Tell me of the Laird and the clan. If I am to live here, I should learn its history.” She smiled up at him, pushing past the discomfort between them.
“As ye wish.” Gavin launched into a tale of his father and the clan wars. He told her all about Clan Comyn and their disgruntled neighbors, Clan Brodie, whose Laird was somewhat resentful of their own Clan’s success.
“Have you ever been at war with them?”
“Nae in recent years, it is more a matter of cattle raidin’ and theft.”
She laughed at this idea, shaking her head.
“It sounds quite petty.”
“Aye, that would be because it is.”
“Why not declare war on them?”
“The answer to all problems is nae bloodshed, ye ken.” He chuckled as he watched her work.
“Surely it would stop Clan Brodie’s raiding if you went to war with them.”
“It would also see many unnecessary deaths in their Clan and me own. The problems they cause, as we said before, are petty.” He shook his head, seeing the sternness in her eyes at the mention of battle. “I willnae risk the lives of me men for such small things.”
She shrugged, concentrating on her task at hand.
“I still believe a battle would stop your problems.” She collected the basket, preparing to leave the storeroom and take the wool outside for the fulling.
“Do ye argue bloodshed to solve all problems?” He followed her out, trying to take the basket from her hands to help, though she would not let him. She was determined to do the duty herself.
“Are you surprised? I was raised as a warrior.”
“But a battle is nae always needed.”
“Isn’t it?” She looked at him in apparent confusion.
“I see the Vikin’s go to battle as quickly as they would go to feast.”
“Já, you are right there,” she laughed with her head held high, showing pride in her kinsmen’s ways, “Nei Viking goes to sleep or to dinner without a sword at his side.”
“That I daenae understand.”
“Ergh,” Idunn groaned as she kicked the straw bale that stood for her bed.
The servants now allowed her to sleep in the main hall rather than the doorway, but tucked into the corner of the room, she frequently found they pulled tricks on her. This night was no different. Amongst the straw was a mouse. As she prodded the straw with her foot, the servants were sniggering.
Idunn had never liked the servants she lived alongside. It was only natural for them to hate her for being a Viking. She treated them with as much contempt as she expected from them. She was tempted to make a grab for the mouse and throw the creature at one of the other beds but was far too exhausted from her duties to face their anger and wrath.
She kicked the mouse out of its hiding place and ushered him towards the open door, relieved when she saw its small grey furry body disappear between the wicket door and the wooden frame.
Ignoring the laughter behind her, she heaved her body down to the ground, disliking the feel of the straw beneath her skin.
“Here ye are,” a voice disturbed her angry thoughts. She looked up in the room lit by only two candles to see a servant that frequently made an appearance. Slightly rotund with a podgy face and a mass of dark hair, the young woman walked towards Idunn with a plate of food. “I heard ye missed dinner, so I saved ye some scraps.”
Idunn looked up with suspicion, her eyes flicking between the plate and the woman.
“I am not hungry.”
“Oh, I see,” the woman’s smile faltered, “Well, I’ll leave it here, shall I? Just in case ye change yer mind.” She placed the trencher plate down beside Idunn and crouched down as though wanting to talk.
Idunn leaned as far away as she could into the corner, distrusting the woman’s behavior. Her eyes flicked between the woman and the servants, who were still laughing about the caper with the mouse. The servant woman followed her gaze.
“Daenae worry about them. They are harmless, really. They just like to provoke ye, is all.”
“I am not fond of being provoked.”
“Aye,” the woman nodded, looking down at the trencher she had brought, “I brought ye some berries, and I managed to salvage a little lamb. Daenae leave that to the mornin’, or it will nay longer be edible.”
“I do not need your help.” Idunn wrapped her arms around her body. No servant had approached her before; they all preferred to keep their distance. The strange encounter only made her more suspicious of the woman’s intentions.
Perhaps it is all a ruse. Has she placed something in my food? Another jest of the servants at my own expense.
“Aye,” the woman nodded again. “Me name is Annas. Someone said yers is Idunn?” Idunn did not speak but offered a dark glare in reply. “I’ll leave ye to yer sleep. Do eat the lamb.”
The woman hurried to her feet and scampered away across the room, leaving Idunn’s gaze to drop to the two servants that were still snickering about the mouse. She laid down in her bed and rolled over, staring at the wall with a hollowness in her chest, ignoring the food.
The caper with the mouse lingered in Idunn’s head, and her anger carried through the rest of the day.
Gavin was unable to leave his own duties, having to train with the soldiers, so they agreed to sneak away in the evening and meet by the well in the bailey courtyard. There at least they would be able to steal a few minutes together, unseen by anyone. Yet Idunn’s excitement to see Gavin had dissipated, her mind too absorbed by the servants.
When she finally saw his shadow creeping through the dark courtyard towards her, she found herself pacing around the well with tension in her body.
“Evenin’, bandia.”
Before she could protest or make her feelings known, Gavin had his arms around her waist and brought her to him. She fell easily into his kiss, the rhythm between them so heated that she could feel a fire burning inside her.
He was the first to pull away.
“I have been thinkin’ of that all day.” He planted soft kisses down her neck, but sensing her sudden stiffness, pulled back again. “What is wrong, Idunn?”
“It is hardly important.”
“Nay, tell me what is wrong. Ye are upset about somethin’?”
“Of course, I am upset.” She pushed harshly away from him, surprised by his lack of awareness. “Gavin, do you truly expect me to be happy in such a place as this?”
“If ye werenae a slave, I imagine ye could be.”
“It is not so simple as that.” She moved away from him as he tried to take her hand. “I am a Viking. Your servants treat me with contempt. They ridicule me at every opportunity. It is not a happy place to be.”
“What do the servants do?”
“That is not the point.”
“Ye ken I can put a stop to any mistreatment.”
“That is not what I want!” She walked around the well, putting distance between them. “I do not tell you this to ask you to do something about it. I tell it to you so you understand why I cannot be happy here.”
“Are all me staff truly so foul?” Gavin folded his arms and stared at her from the other side of the well. The moonlight bounced off the exposed skin of his arms, drawing her into admiring his figure. “Not a single kind one amongst them?”
“Nei.” Idunn’s thoughts went back to Annas offering food, yet she was still suspicious of the act. It could have been another jest at her expense.
“And tell me, Idunn, how do ye treat them?” His voice was gentle as he asked the question.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, do ye treat me staff with the same indifference ye used to treat me?”
“What does that matter?”
“Idunn,” he laughed, shaking his head as a thought occurred to him, “Ye are a truly formidable woman, ye ken.” She rearranged her stance, caught off guard by the sudden compliment. “I fear yer formidability clouds yer judgement in this.”
“What do you mean?”
“Think on it a little,” he implored her with wide eyes, “If ye wish me staff to be kind to ye, then the only way to change their opinions of ye is to be kind to them too. Speakin’ from experience, yer indifference can be a little…” He pondered the right word.
“Can be a little…?” she prodded him for an answer, moving back around the well until she was by his side.
“Acerbic.”
“Acerbic?” she repeated with affront, about to turn away from him before he caught her hand and pulled her back towards him – she collided with his chest, both hands on his stomach as he held her around his waist. He lowered his lips to hers, teasing her with the possibility of a kiss. “You are distracting me from our bickering.”
“I daenae think that is a bad thing.” He placed the briefest of kisses against her lips, taunting her into wanting more. “Come, let us speak nay more of this. There is somethin’ I wish to show ye.”
He took her hand and led her away across the yard.
Idunn entered the keep, a part of the castle she was not normally permitted. It held the private chambers of the Laird’s family. Gavin led her through a small corridor and up a spiral staircase, at all times refusing to tell her where they were going.
Idunn compared Gavin to Einarr as they walked. Both men were tall and muscular from their years in training for battle. Yet, Gavin was somehow lither; the broadness of his shoulders and tone of his arms drew Idunn into staring at him as they walked through the corridor. Those green eyes were something altogether more beguiling. She had never felt the need to dwell on Einarr’s handsomeness.
Einarr had never quite matched Gavin's efforts, and it tore the rug from under Idunn’s feet. She had wanted to hate Gavin for so long and had actually disliked him. She was only drawn to him physically, so much so that his manner and obvious pursuit took her by surprise.
“Here we are,” Gavin whispered, as he opened one of the doors - just off a corridor. She followed him inside, checking over her shoulder to ensure no one had seen them. Stepping into the room, she was unable to see anything beyond the darkness of the night through the windows.
“Where are we?”
“One moment,” Gavin moved past her, his shadowy silhouette only just visible in the darkness. She caught sight of the stars beyond the window and moved forward, trying to orientate herself. As she found the windowsill, she clutched it, her hands feeling the cold stone beneath.
There was the sound of flint against a tinderbox, and a moment later, a spark jumped, starting a fire to a small bundle of straw that Gavin used to light a candle. He dropped the straw back into the box, allowing the flame to die out as the candle took hold. The soft orange glow bathed the room in the gentlest of lights.
Idunn blinked, adjusting her gaze to the new sight. It was a small chamber adorned with tapestries and furniture. The furs strewn across the floor intended to warm the space were reminiscent of her own house back in Oslo.
“What is this room?” she asked, bending down to stroke one of the soft furs. It had been a long time since she had felt anything so luxurious against her skin. It tickled the harsh sores and blisters that dappled her fingers.
“Me garderobe. There is somethin’ I wished to show ye.”
“Your garderobe?” she repeated, standing straight. It was a very intimate space to show her. She shifted between her feet with nerves as she watched him hurry to a cabinet in the corner of the room. He opened the cabinet doors to reveal an array of weapons hidden inside that glinted softly in the amber candlelight.
“I thought you kept your weapons in the armoury?” She followed him, trying to peer over his shoulder and what was hidden inside the cupboard.
“Aye, mostly I do. Me private weapons, I keep here.” His hand alighted on a familiar sword she knew well. He took it easily from its sheath and presented it to her. The easy way he handed over her sword startled her. She reached out a hand with trepidation, constantly looking between him and the weapon.
It was a statement of trust.
“You are allowing me to hold it?”
“Of cours
e, I trust after our kisses ye wouldnae harm me with it.” He smiled as he rested it in her hands. His words filled her with warmth, and she grasped the sword tightly in response.
She took it gladly, running her fingers over the compass motif. Her stomach leapt for joy to see it. There had been a time where she thought she would never be so fortunate to hold it again.
