by Fiona Faris
Two soldiers walked past, so busy in their conversation that they barely noticed when one elbowed one of Annas’ buckets that had been resting on the stone next to the well. The bucket fell from the stone and tipped the clothes across the grass. The soldiers apologized but walked on, leaving Annas to drop to her knees and turn the bucket the right way up.
Idunn’s eyes darted between the fulling and Annas. Her revolting errand for the morning could wait a few minutes. She hurried across the yard and knelt down beside her, helping her pick up the clothes.
Annas looked up at her in surprise, her hands still for a moment as she returned the tunics to the bucket.
“It is nay bother,” Annas folded a tunic in her hand. “I can do it.” Idunn brushed her off with a wave of her hand as she collected some of the sheets that were sprawled across the grass.
“The soldiers should watch what they’re doing.”
“They apologized,” Annas shrugged as if it did not matter to her. Idunn passed her some folded sheets, and she took them with a smile. “How is the fullin’ goin’?” Annas pointed over to the large barrel Idunn had been preparing to climb into.
“Repulsive,” Idunn affected a shudder, earning a soft smile from Annas.
“Ye ken they are pleased with yer work, daenae ye?”
“Pleased?” Idunn repeated in surprise as she placed the last tunic into the girl's hand.
“Aye, I heard the steward say so meself,” Annas stood to her feet again and picked up the bucket. “They said they might give ye some pleasanter duties.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, as though it was a great secret.
“That would be nice,” Idunn nodded. “I’m tired of carrying so foul a smell around with me.”
“Well, I’ll share ye a secret of mine,” Annas stepped nearer to her. “When washin’ the clothes, I sometimes go a little further down the stream into the copse. There the water is so clear, ye can bathe without anyone findin’ ye. A good way to get rid of the foul smell.”
“And have you ever been caught?”
“Nae yet,” Annas smiled with a shrug as she stepped away carrying the bucket. “Thank ye for helpin’.”
Idunn nodded in reply as she watched Annas disappear across the yard towards the river. Idunn returned to her barrel with a lighter step, somewhat surprised by the other's kindness and that her superiors were so pleased with her work.
Perhaps there is a chance to make a friend here yet.
Tadhg watched Idunn from his place in the shadows of the tower in the outer curtain wall. She had helped one of the maids collect some washing from the floor and was now returning to a barrel where the wool needed fulling. As she moved to the side of the barrel, she clutched her nose and throat again, as though holding back a wretch.
Lowering her hands to the bottom of her tunic, she tied the hem around her knees, revealing a glimpse of toned calves. Tadhg’s gaze lingered on her legs, his imagination drifting to places he kept telling himself it should not go. As she climbed into the barrel, her legs became hidden from view, yet she clutched to the side of the tub and reared her head up, as though trying to lift herself above the smell. The move made her arch her back, and Tadhg’s eyes drew to watching her figure in other ways. The curve of her waist and chest beneath the slim-fitting tunic was something that tormented him.
Then someone else stepped forward - equally as agonizing. Gavin appeared at her side, clutching his nose against the smell. He said something to the Viking slave, making her laugh with ease. The sight of her laughter made Tadhg shift within the doorway where he stood and fold his arms.
He was no fool. He had seen Gavin’s changing behavior of late. The conversation he had brought up at dinner with their father was equally worrying.
As Tadhg liked to watch Idunn from the shadows, he had witnessed her change. When she first arrived, she had been bitter and abrasive to anyone that came near her, including Gavin, but these days she would laugh freely with his brother. The idea that Gavin, of all people, could do that only unsettled him more.
He saw Idunn laugh again, her smile spreading wide across her bold features as Gavin took a seat near the barrel where she was working.
Tadhg could not watch. He covered his eyes for a moment and then turned through the door behind him, hurrying through the corridor and climbing the spiral staircase of the tower. With each step, a new image of Idunn came to his mind. Her sorting through the woolen sheets, fulling as she clutched her face, leech collecting in the water with her skirt lifted high to her thighs.
As he reached a parlor room, he thrust open the door with so much force that it ricocheted off the wall behind him. Hearing it bang so loudly brought him to a little sense, and he closed the door with a much lighter touch. He paced around the room, running his hands through his hair as he tried to soften his frustration, but it was of no use.
As a Viking slave, it would have been perfectly fine for Tadhg to have taken her.
Who would have cared? She is a slave.
He had heard of much worse being done to slaves across other clans. Many slaves had been taken as concubines or mistresses, just something to pass the time. His father had done a similar thing with his own mother. She had not been a woman of any class or standing, just a servant with whom Fergus had spent one night. Tadhg did not see the harm in doing the same with Idunn.
Yet Gavin seems to have got their first.
Tadhg had not seen anything physical pass between them, despite how many times he had watched Idunn at work and seen Gavin approach her. Still, it was clear that Gavin had some hold over the slave. They spent so much time together.
Aye, why else would she laugh like that?
He had seen her leech collecting just the day before, but as he had crept down the path and through the wood to watch her, Gavin had approached. He could hear them splashing through the water, but when it fell quiet between them, Tadhg had been unable to get close enough through the wood to see what was happening. His mind ran riot with the idea that perhaps Gavin was doing to Idunn everything he was fantasizing of.
Tadhg tried to shake the thought from his mind as he marched over to the window to better see Idunn and Gavin below in the courtyard. She was doing her work while holding her nose. Gavin was sitting nearby, laughing at something she said.
He knew he should not be jealous, but it was hardly a new sensation. As children, Tadhg had always been jealous of his brother. Gavin was younger, yet his parentage was legitimate, so anything he wanted was given to him. Tadhg closed his eyes, trying to block out the image of Idunn, but only seeing another woman in her place.
Lady Úna, Gavin’s mother.
Whereas Fergus had always been welcoming to him, Lady Úna had been cold. Though Tadhg lived with them, she never included him with her other children. He felt her disdain – even though she never displayed it in public.
He did not blame Gavin for his mother’s behavior, but it was all too easy to be jealous of Gavin for it. He had the perfect life, a loving mother, and the future Lairdship before him.
Tadhg pushed away from the window and hurried to a writing desk in the room, adorned with quills, charcoal inkpots, and parchment. He pulled out the chair and rushed to find clean parchment, barely giving thought to his actions as he began to write his letter.
What harm will it really do to deprive me brother of one thin’ in his life?
Gavin would hardly notice just one measly thing not going in his favor. If he did, then perhaps it would do him good to learn a little of the injustice that Tadhg had so often felt.
He quickly addressed his letter to a trading merchant he knew on the continent staying in Edinburgh. Under the pretense of potentially opening trade with the Vikings, he asked the merchant to tell him of the Jarl’s name in Oslo and any family he might correspond with. As he finished the letter, he re-read the words, pleased with their charm and innocence. It would be interesting to know the name of the man Idunn was once betrothed to.
Tadhg wanted Idunn. H
e would do what he could to have her. Just once, perhaps, but he had to know what it would be like.
He folded up the letter and sealed it with the Clan Comyn crest in deep red wax.
“Kenna, I must speak to ye about somethin’,” Gavin looked up to his sister, jumping between the rock pools on the beach as he sat in the shingle. Her long brown hair fluttered in the wind as she leaped.
“Aye?” She barely turned to look at him, so busy was she splashing in the water and searching the rock pools for crabs. “Found one!” she declared loudly as she picked up another shiny russet crab and placed it in the wooden bucket near Gavin’s feet, “Did I tell ye about Iomhar’s journey through Clan Brodie?”
“Kenna, for once in our recent discussions, I would dearly like to talk of somethin’ else other than Iomhar.” The harshness of his words made Kenna flick her head around to look at him with wide eyes. He debated what to do for many days and decided he could no longer keep his secret from Kenna. If he stood any chance of freeing Idunn from her slavery, Kenna needed to be on his side when he challenged his father.
“In the name of the great Laird, ye do seem disgruntled today!” Kenna teased, as she jumped into a rock pool nearby, splashing his legs with seawater.
“Please listen to me,” Gavin pleaded with sternness as he moved his legs out of her reach, “I want to be serious for a moment.”
“Aye, as ye wish, I am listenin’.” Despite her words, she still stepped between the rockpools with glee, her eyes elsewhere. “What is on yer mind, bampot?”
“I…” He paused, his gaze darting between the rockpool at his feet that reflected the grey clouds above and his sister. He breathed a sigh and decided the easiest way was to be honest and to the point. “I am goin’ to ask faither to free Idunn.”
Kenna froze in her movements and turned back to him so sharply that she almost fell over.
“Ye want to ask him to free the Vikin’ slave? Whatever for!”
“Shh, lower yer voice,” Gavin put a finger to his lips and cast a glance around the beach. There was no one near to them. Only a few villagers further down the beach and on the dock, who were welcoming home fishermen from long voyages, but he did not want to risk the chance of being overheard. “This is hardly a conversation I want people listenin’ into.”
“Gavin, ye bampot. Why would ye do a thin’ like that?” Kenna whispered harshly, as she marched back towards him through the rockpools, “I daenae understand. She is a Vikin’. She attacked these shores with her kin. Her people killed ours.”
“And our people killed hers. I am nae judgin’ her on what her people did.” Gavin’s implacable tone only appeared to shock her further. She clutched her long brown hair that had fallen across her shoulder and wrung it in her hands.
“I ken there was more to this. The other day at dinner when ye spoke of her. It seemed so strange. Have ye lost yer senses?”
“Nay.”
“There was a time when ye hated the Vikin’s so much ye would have killed one on sight.” Kenna cast her gaze to the clouds, despairing of him.
“Well, perhaps she is changin’ me opinion of what a Vikin’ is.” He attempted a smile, trying to soften his sister, but Kenna marched away, grasping at her hair.
“I daenae understand. Why free her? Hmm?” Kenna flicked her head back, her hazel eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Do ye feel guilty? Is that it?”
“Partly,” Gavin shrugged in reply, “Do ye nae? We have sent a woman of high status into servitude. Nae just that, but the lowest form of servitude ye can imagine. Doin’ the very worst jobs possible. She doesnae belong there. Does that nae concern ye?”
“I see. So, it is merely guilt ye feel?”
“Nae.” Gavin scratched the back of his neck, uncomfortable as he watched Kenna move her hands to her hips.
“There is somethin’ ye have nae told me.” Kenna walked over to him and sat behind the rockpool opposite. She crossed her legs under her tunic and folded her arms, staring him down. It reminded him of their arguments as children. It was the stance she had always borne when they disagreed on something. Since they had grown up together, they had become the closest of friends. Gavin never wanted that to change. “Come on, bampot. Reveal yer secrets. There is somethin’ ye havenae said.”
Gavin mirrored her stance, crossing his legs and folding his arms. He drew out the silence, waiting until she had stopped fidgeting and was watching him closely with her almond eyes before he spoke.
“I wish to court Idunn.”
Kenna’s eyes shot open wider.
“Ye wish to court a slave!”
“Shh!”
“I willnae be quiet,” Kenna’s whisper was harsh, “Ye cannae be serious.”
“Is there somethin’ so wrong in courtin’ her, Kenna?” Gavin relaxed his arms and leaned towards his sister, gesturing to emphasize his point. Kenna leaned back, her eyes wide in shock.
“She is a slave,” she repeated the words, as though it was a full explanation in itself. It merely made Gavin’s ire rise.
What does it matter if she is a slave?
“Ye ken ye can be a little proud sometimes,” Gavin challenged, raising his eyebrows, “Bein’ a slave doesnae make her a bad person.”
“I dinnae say that,” Kenna breathed deeply, clearly hurt by Gavin’s accusation and trying to control her temper, “That is nae what I meant.”
“What did ye mean?”
“I mean… She is a Vikin’, Gavin.” She leaned towards him again. “Are ye sure of this?”
“I couldnae be more certain.” Gavin straightened his spine. Kenna softened at his words, and slumped forward and shook her head with the smallest of laughs.
“Aye, well, I ken one thing now.”
“What is that?”
“Ye are more of a bampot than I ever thought ye to be.”
“Kenna, be serious.” Gavin gestured with open arms, earning her gaze again.
“I am Gavin. I just…” She struggled for the right words and tossed her hair over her shoulder. She bit her lip for a moment, considering what to say. “I just daenae understand.”
“I ken how I can make ye understand.” An idea occurred in Gavin’s head. “Ye remember how ye once told me that the first time ye saw Iomhar, it was as though ye were bound to him?”
“Aye, I do.” She nodded, tilting her head to one side in realization, betraying the smallest of smiles with her words. “Are ye tellin’ me, brother, that is what ye had for the slave?”
“Idunn. I want ye to stop callin’ her ‘slave.’ Call her by her name. I beg of ye. She doesnae deserve such degradation.”
“Oh, in the name of the great Laird.” She lowered her head to her hands and rubbed her face. Gavin could see her eyes wide and still amazed. “Ye really are besotted. When did ye see her first?”
“In battle.” Gavin looked down at the rockpool and watched the pearlescent water as a crab beneath the surface started to dance left and right. “She was a sight to behold.”
“How romantic,” Kenna snickered. Gavin looked up to see a smile on her face – relief flooding through him.
“Daenae go all silly on me now,” Gavin shook his head, mirroring her smile.
“How can I nae? It’s a very dramatic idea.” Kenna was still laughing, teasing her brother.
“Kenna, it is nae just an infatuation based on one look. I ken Idunn now. I have spent time with her. Spoken to her at great length.”
“I hope all ye have been doing is talking?” Kenna raised her eyebrows in jest.
“If ye daenae wish me to ask what ye do with Iomhar when the two of ye are alone, then ye shouldnae ask me that.” His glare made her instantly retreat.
“I am nae askin’!” She waved her hands, trying to bat away his inquisitiveness.
“Kenna, listen to me.” Gavin leaned forward again, determined to make Kenna believe him. “I wish to officially court Idunn. I ken some will object to the idea, but that doesnae concern me. However, to officially court he
r is the only way I can set her free.”
“Who would have thought it.” She shook her head. “The heir to the Lairdship wants to court a slave.” Her voice turned high pitched with teasing.
“Nay. He wants to court a Vikin’ warrior. Their Frú.”
“Frú?” Kenna repeated, struggling with the pronunciation.
“It is the Norse equivalent of Lady.”
“Ye have been learnin’ from her,” Kenna laughed again, still shaking her head, “Very well, then. If this is what ye want, then ye must do it. Perhaps there is a possible future where ye and yer Vikin’ woman can be together.”
