Frida: Claimed (Viking Guardians Book 3)

by Kaitlynn Clarkson

  Torsten felt anxiety turning his stomach in knots as he waited for the members of the regional Thing to deal with Alfonso and Fritjof’s dispute. At last, they were ready, gathered in a circle in the mead hall of the area’s jarl.

  “We have an unusual matter today,” the lawspeaker began. “Alfonso and Fritjof have a dispute over the property that was agreed upon for the winner of their production race.” He stopped and looked directly at Alfonso. “Fritjof was the winner. When he went to claim his prize from Alfonso, he declared that he wished to take Alfonso’s daughter Frida for his wife.” He paused.

  “That is not unusual,” said one of the men.

  “Alfonso declined on the grounds that he does not regard his daughter as property. He claims that she should be permitted to choose her husband for herself.”

  There was a rumble of surprise from around the circle.

  “You are a strange man, Alfonso,” one of the men said. A great bellow of laughter blasted from the group.

  “Silence!” thundered the lawspeaker. “We are here to decide the matter, not poke fun at the complainants.”

  “Fritjof wishes us to settle the matter in his favor and award the wench to him as his bride under a legally binding contract.”

  A murmur of approval rippled around the group.

  “But Alfonso wishes us to allow the wench to choose for herself. He says that he is not in favor of the match and that she is subject to him. Therefore, she should be allowed to go free because that is what they both wish.”

  “This would be a dangerous ruling,” one of the men said. “All daughters and wives would think they could make their own decisions. No man in the land would be safe from their foolishness.”

  Halvar spoke up. “We must remember that these people see things differently to us. They allow their sons and daughters to marry for love. Therefore, this ruling would be disastrous to the health and happiness of not only the wench herself, but to the rest of the family. They came to our land because they prize the freedom to worship as they choose, but here we are, thinking to deprive them of the right to choose their spouses for themselves. Ruling in Fritjof’s favor would set a precedent for others to force unwanted marriages upon them. Do we wish to alienate them?”

  There was silence for a moment.

  “Fritjof is a native of our land,” one of the men spoke up. “His claim should be given greater weight.”

  “That is not how the Thing works,” the presiding chieftain reproved him. “It is for all people, regardless of where they come from. We will consider both sides as having claims of equal value.”

  “What was the original agreement?” someone asked.

  “The winner of the production race would have the right to choose property from the other, up to the value of three cows.”

  “Three cows is a good price for a bride,” someone said. “Fritjof is not being unreasonable.”

  “Alfonso claims that he was tricked into agreeing to the arrangement. His daughter was never mentioned as part of the deal.”

  “And that is true,” the lawspeaker responded. “The agreement mentioned only cows or other property such as sheep, chickens and grain.”

  “Why did Fritjof not ask for her directly?” someone asked.

  “Alfonso says he would have refused. He also says that Fritjof knew that.”

  “Then we must take this into account. Alfonso was unaware that Fritjof would claim his daughter because the agreement made no mention of her. In addition, he is opposed to the idea of his daughter marrying Fritjof.”

  Landwulf spoke up. “Can we not consider the wishes of the wench herself?”

  A host of disapproving eyes turned in his direction. “You are hardly qualified to speak on this matter,” one of the men said. “You are her brother.”

  “And giving a woman the chance to decide for herself would be a bad idea for husbands and fathers all over the land. We would be made fools in our own homes whenever a woman does not desire to follow our wishes.”

  “I have given this matter much thought,” the lawspeaker announced. “We wish to be fair to both sides, do we not?”

  Murmurs of assent rumbled around the group.

  “Then this is what I propose. We shall give Alfonso the chance to find a suitable husband for the girl. If he has failed to do so within the next thirty days, the arrangement with Fritjof stands. She shall marry him.”

  “It is a good decision,” someone said. “Let us vote on it.”

  The vote passed with a majority. It would be binding.

  Torsten rode hard towards the village, his stomach churning with a whirl of emotions. On one hand, he was grateful that the Thing had given Frida time to come up with another solution. On the other, he was angry that it had failed to recognize her value as a human being. The men had worked on the premise that she was subject to Alfonso and therefore had no say in her fate. She was a human being, a beautiful one. She could think and act for herself and he’d seen the joy in her when she was innocent and free. Somehow, he liked the Christians’ approach. They saw all people as worthy of free choice, worthy of love. He’d seen the horror in the entire Christian community as they realized that one of their own could be forced into a marriage as the property of a man who wouldn’t value her. The thought tied his stomach in knots.

  You could marry her yourself … The thought drifted across his mind, becoming more and more insistent.

  Well, why couldn’t he? Other than ignorance of the Christians’ courtship customs, was there anything stopping him from taking her as a wife? He would have preferred to be a little better established before taking a wife, but surely, under the circumstances, that wouldn’t matter. At least she would be safe, although she might not enjoy sharing a village with Fritjof. Perhaps Einar would be willing to swap houses once his was built. It was farther away from Fritjof’s house and they wouldn’t have to cross paths too often. He wouldn’t allow himself to think of what Fritjof might do if he lost his prize. Torsten knew he could be a dangerous foe under the right circumstances. The closer he came to the village, the more determined he became to put his plan into action. The way he saw it, he might be Frida’s only chance. As far as he knew, there were no other suitable young men in her circle.

  He decided that he would go to Frida’s house and ask her on the spot if she would consider marrying him. The urgency of the moment gave him courage he usually did not possess and he walked to the front door with purpose in his stride. Sigrid answered the door in response to his knock.

  “What do you want?” she asked, an edge in her tone.

  “To see Frida,” he replied.

  “Well, you cannot,” she said tartly and shut the door in his face.

  CHAPTER 9

  The following day, Torsten again went to Alfonso’s house to see Frida. He had his speech rehearsed; he would tell her that he wanted to marry her and save her from Fritjof. He could only hope that he was offering a solution that she would consider acceptable.

  “Torsten!” Alfonso said in surprise when he opened the door. “What brings you here?”

  “I wish to see Frida,” Torsten said.

  Alfonso heaved a sigh. He looked tired and careworn. “That is something we all wish for,” he said. “But I am afraid you cannot.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she has run away.”

  “Run away?” Torsten asked in disbelief.

  “Yes. She disappeared the night before the Thing met. She likely feared being taken at once by Fritjof should the Thing rule in his favor.”

  “Have you searched for her?”

  “Yes. We are searching the villages within a day’s ride. No one has seen her.”

  “She is unlikely to go to a nearby village,” Torsten argued. “Someone would recognize her and hand her over to Fritjof. Our people dislike harboring runaway slaves or escaped brides.”

  “You are right. She might have gone to one of our villages. But the nearest Christian village is over a day’s ride away
and she was on foot. She cannot have gone that far.”

  “Searching for her seems futile if she does not wish to be found,” Torsten agreed.

  “I wish to search among our people for a husband who would be willing to take her as his bride. But I cannot do that with a bride who has made herself invisible!”

  “She is afraid,” Torsten said quietly. “She has been dreadfully afraid of Fritjof for a long time.”

  Alfonso ran his hand through his hair, worry etched on his features. “We have wronged her,” he said. “We did not listen when she tried to warn us about Fritjof. And now we are all paying the price.”

  “None more so than Frida,” Torsten pointed out.

  “I know not what else to do,” Alfonso said. “If I cannot find her, I cannot save her. She will have to return to society sooner or later and then someone will seize her and hand her over to Fritjof.”

  “Pray to your God,” Torsten advised. “If he is concerned with the affairs of men as Kaarina says he is, perhaps he will listen and have mercy.”

  “You are right, Torsten. Thank you for reminding me that I need not solve this problem alone. I will take your advice and pray.”

  “Sigrid! You came!” Frida whispered as her sister entered the shadowy barn.

  “I am sorry I was unable to come last night,” Sigrid replied. “Mother and Father sat up far into the night discussing the verdict.”

  “What was it?” Frida’s voice shook with fear as she braced herself for the news that she was to marry Fritjof.

  “The Thing granted Father thirty days to find you a husband. If he fails in that time, you will be obliged to marry Fritjof.”

  “There is no one who will marry me!” Frida exclaimed with a sob. Tears started down her cheeks. “I did not meet anyone at the eindingida. Did you see anyone there who would be suitable?”

  Sigrid decided not to remind her sister that her attention had been focused on Adelmio and that there were, in fact, several eligible young men. “Shhh,” she soothed, taking Frida in her arms. “Let us wait to see if Father can find someone before we give in to despair. He has sent men to the far villages to ask if there are any suitable young men who might be seeking a bride.”

  “That is almost as bad as marrying Fritjof,” Frida sniffed. “It will be an arranged marriage to a stranger.”

  “It means that you would escape from Fritjof. That is better than having to marry him, is it not?”

  “Yes,” Frida said weakly.

  “Look what I brought you,” Sigrid said, reaching into the basket. “Some fresh bread, some stew from the evening meal, and another candle.”

  “Has not Mother noticed that you are hoarding food?”

  “No. She has been preoccupied. She is worried about you, you know.”

  “It would have been nice if she had been concerned about me before it was too late.”

  “Frida, you need to forgive Mother,” Sigrid said gently. “Bitterness will only taint your own soul. What she did was wrong, but do not allow anger over her actions to eat you up or destroy your relationship with her. She does care about you.”

  “You are right,” Frida agreed reluctantly. “But I know not when I will see her again. And you must not disclose where I am. My life depends upon it.”

  “I know. Wild boars would not be able to rip your secret from my heart.”

  Torsten couldn’t sit still, beside himself with worry over Frida’s whereabouts. Three weeks had passed and no one had seen her. Soon the deadline would be up and the moment she reappeared, she would be forced to marry Fritjof. Alfonso had combed the villages searching for her but she was nowhere to be found. He had also tried to find her a husband but no one wanted a runaway bride that they were unable to meet. She was sure to bring trouble with her and no man in his right mind wanted to take the chance. Alfonso was getting desperate.

  Torsten turned his brain inside out trying to think of where Frida might be. Sigrid’s face flashed into his mind as he recalled going to the house to ask for Frida after the ruling by the Thing. She had been like a little wildcat protecting its young, all claws and teeth and flashing eyes. The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that Sigrid might know something that the rest of them didn’t. He made up his mind to talk to her. If she didn’t claw his eyes out.

  “Hello Sigrid,” he greeted her later that day.

  She looked up from weeding the carrot patch in their vegetable garden. “Hello, Torsten,” she said warily. Her blue eyes were watchful and she offered only the hint of a smile. “What do you want?” she asked, standing up.

  Torsten had the feeling he would be eaten alive if he dared to put a foot wrong. So much for imagining that they could be friends and work together to help Frida.

  “I am worried about Frida,” he said.

  “So is the rest of the village. You are not alone.”

  “I want to do something to help.”

  “You can best help by going back to your village and staying there,” Sigrid told him, hostility in her tone.

  “Sigrid, I have no argument with you. I was hoping that you would allow me to help.”

  “Why would you want to help?”

  “Because I care about her.”

  “Care? Care?” Sigrid almost screeched. “Why would you care? You are a man. A man of Norowegr. She is nothing but a possession to the men of this land.”

  “I am sorry about the whole situation,” Torsten replied. “I do not agree with the decision made by the Thing.”

  Sigrid looked at him through narrowed eyes. “You are still a man. Women have little value to you.”

  “That is unfair, Sigrid. You have never spoken to me of this matter before so how do you pass judgment so quickly?” Torsten could feel himself growing angry.

  Sigrid realized she had overstepped the boundaries of civility. “All I am saying is that I find it difficult to believe that you care about Frida because she is your friend. You are a man and as we have seen, they place little value on women.”

  Torsten gave up. “I was hoping we could work together to help Frida,” he said. “But if you refuse to believe me, what can I do? I shall leave you to your work.”

  The fiery anger died down and she softened. “I am sorry, Torsten. But the situation has forced us to trust no one. Thank you for your offer to help. I hope you can understand why I have had to refuse.”

  He tried one last time. “Do you know where she is?” he asked.

  Fire and ice mingled in her eyes as she gave him a long look. “That I cannot tell,” she said.

  Later, Torsten turned their encounter over and over in his mind. He was certain that Sigrid knew something and her ferocity was an attempt to keep others from prizing the information from her. He concluded that there was no way she was going to tell him anything. But perhaps … perhaps there was another way.

  Torsten quietly made his way to Merilant through the foggy twilight. The days were growing long now and he’d had to wait for a long time for the sun to head for the horizon. He’d gone to sleep in the longhouse he and Einar shared, rousing after he was certain his brother was asleep. He slipped from the house, as silent as a shadow, and walked to Merilant through the softly dripping forest. A light rain beaded on his cloak and rolled off. The fog was a blessing, he realized. It deadened the sound of his footsteps through the village and enabled him to avoid the attention of the dogs that might have otherwise barked.

  At last, he reached Alfonso’s house and slid into place beside the wall, where he could watch the front door. He settled down to wait, hoping that his hunch would prove correct. It was his last desperate attempt to find Frida before it was too late. Tomorrow at sundown, she would belong to Fritjof. This had to work or she would be lost to him forever. He thought about her full, rosy lips smiling up at him. He recalled her dark hair fanning out in a shining waterfall around her as Landwulf whirled her around on the dance floor at his wedding to Kaarina. His heart softened as he thought about the way her brown eye
s had lit up with pleasure when he’d assured her of his acceptance. But most of all, he remembered the fear on her face when Fritjof had accosted her on the street. That look haunted him and made him want to beat Fritjof’s arrogant face to a pulp. There must be a way he could save her. If this last desperate attempt failed, she was doomed.

  The door opened so silently that he almost missed it in the muffled gloom. A shadowy figure slipped out; not even the faintest footfall stirred the silence. Torsten sprang to his feet and followed, careful to keep the figure in sight. He was sure it was Sigrid. She paused, checking for danger, but all was quiet in the sleeping village. She scurried down the road, head down, carrying a basket.

  Torsten’s eyes were well-adjusted to the darkness as he followed her out of the village and along a path that led towards the mountainside. Soon they were in the foggy, dripping forest, but it wasn’t long until the path opened out into a clearing. A building stood near its edge; Torsten guessed it was a barn. It was probably disused, he thought; all the other barns were built close to the village and this one was on its own, well-hidden by the forest that surrounded the clearing. Only a person with local knowledge would know it was there. Torsten skirted around the edges of the forest while Sigrid walked directly towards the building. She knocked and after a moment, the door opened. He heard the low murmur of women’s voices and Sigrid disappeared inside. A short time later, she emerged again, pausing to say goodbye before she scurried back down the hillside.

  Torsten did his best to melt into the forest as she passed close by, but she was intent on her return journey and seemed to be less concerned about being discovered. Satisfied that she was gone, Torsten crept over to the barn, finding that it had a sizable overhang at the rear where animals had sheltered in an outdoor pen. He found a dry place out of the wind and wedged his back against the wall as elation filled his heart. Now that he’d found Frida, there was no way he was going to leave her.