by Lee Savino
It was my turn to stiffen. I opened my mouth to deny it, but my lips were frozen.
“Rosalind,” Fern murmured, and the blonde girl shut her eyes. “I’m sorry. Juliet, I didn’t mean it.”
But what was done was done. What was said was said. My secret was out. Maybe it had never been a secret.
I rose, smoothing my dress down as regally as I could. Both Rosalind and Fern watched me, one wary, one saddened. Both had pity for me.
“I am going to fetch water,” I told her. “Please watch the young ones. If they wish to go outside, do not let them stray.”
“Do you need help?” Meadow bounced to her feet and smoothed back her hair. She always wanted to leave the safety of the lodge. Not to do chores or keep me company, but to catch the eye of a warrior. I often caught her preening near the outpost of our guard. She was still too timid to flirt outright, but it was only a matter of time.
I bit back my retort. “No, I wish to be alone.”
Her face fell and I gentled my tone with a smile. “When I return, we will all go pick wildflowers. See that the little ones are dressed and put on their shoes.”
I swept past Rosalind.
“I’m sorry,” she said again as I passed her. I gripped her shoulder a moment, meaning to comfort, but unlike Meadow she didn’t soften. That was just Rosalind. There was always something brittle in her. Like her beautiful face was made of clay—lovely, but one wrong move and she would shatter.
I didn’t begrudge her moods. I felt the same as she did—worry, fear, distrust of our captors. Relief that we were warm and well fed. And, deeper still, an unease, an expectancy telling me it was only a matter of time before the Berserkers came for me again.
When I left the lodge, the tension broke from my shoulders like I’d doffed a heavy cloak. I’d been up a few times that night with Ivy and Clover, who were restless in sleep. Fern, too, often had nightmares. We were all still settling into our new home.
I took up the buckets and headed for the path leading to the stream. The clearing around the lodge was empty, and the forest was still, but I knew better. The back of my neck prickled with the awareness I had when a certain two warriors were near.
I hadn’t gone five steps before a big shape moved out from a tree. I caught my breath but didn’t let my feet falter as the warrior named Jarl strolled to my side.
“Little wife.” He fell into step beside me.
I stiffened but didn't look at him. My stomach flipped and swished like a minnow in a pool. I would've darted back in the lodge and hid if I could. But I hardened my spine. I had never cowered before the warriors and never would.
A few more steps and a shadow moved out from behind a tree. Fenrir. Of course. Wherever Jarl was, Fenrir was not far behind and vice versa.
“Fine morning for a walk,” Jarl said, as if I wasn’t ignoring him. I shook my head and he winked at me.
I quickened my step, but his long legs barely had to stretch to keep up. “You no longer wear a veil,” Jarl observed.
I touched my hair where once I would’ve worn a veil—a sign of my dedication to God. I’d given up wearing it after a few days on the mountain. I was no longer Sister Juliet.
I didn’t know who I was anymore.
It was a beautiful day, if I ignored the presence of the two warriors who insisted on escorting me. At the abbey, my life had been divided into simple sections, bound by the bells. Prayer, work, meals, and more prayer. Sometimes there was fasting, sometimes feasts, though celebrations were mostly enjoyed by the village and rarely touched the abbey. My life inside the stone walls was simple, safe.
Now I lived on Berserker mountain. There were no bells to signal the passing hours. Only crickets and bird song. No neatly tended gardens. Only wildflowers and rugged pine. No rules, no prayers, no veil to bind my hair. Only a stunning view from the heights, and above, a vast unbroken sky.
But if God made the world, He made this land. Man tried to make the world small. Men built the abbey and bound the hours of the day to the bells. Men told me when I should rise, what I should eat, how I should work and dress.
How many of the rules I followed were not made by God, but made by men?
“You’re upset,” Jarl said.
I smoothed my forehead and shook my head.
When I reached the stream, Jarl didn’t ask, he simply plucked the bucket from my hand and filled it from the stream. Fenrir came and took the other. I stood awkwardly on the bank, unable to ignore them any longer.
They were big as boulders, these warriors. Fenrir’s black hair was unbound. It fell straight down his back, long enough dip into the water. Jarl had bound his hair back with a thong. They both wore leather breeches. Under a fur cape, Fenrir was bare-chested while Jarl had a sleeveless jerkin. Jarl’s arms were covered with pagan symbols.
I reached for the water bucket as he returned to me, but he shook his head. I pivoted, woodenly, and started walking back to the lodge. I would take my time returning if I were alone, but I had no desire to linger with these men.
But I’d promised Meadow I’d ask them if we could visit Laurel. “I heard one of the spaewives is with child,” I used the term the warriors preferred. Spaewife was a woman who could mate with a Berserker. “May we go visit her?”
“Which one?” Jarl responded, and my steps slowed.
“There’s more than one with child?” Laurel, Hazel, Willow, and Sage were all settled with warriors. They’d been stolen from the abbey but seemed happy. All but Hazel were mated to not one, but two warriors. I couldn’t imagine how that was possible.
I shouldn’t imagine how that was possible. But after several moons with Jarl and Fenrir always near, I had imagined it.
God forgive me.
Jarl grinned as if he knew my thoughts. “Yes. Come spring, there’ll be a new crop of babies.”
Fenrir spoke up. “There’s to be a feast four nights from now. In celebration.”
I hid a sigh. “Perhaps we could go for the day and help with the preparation.” Meadow and the rest would be in ecstasy. Rosalind hated leaving the lodge and would sulk for days.
“That can be arranged,” Jarl said.
“Juliet.” Fenrir flowed to my side, frowning. “Where are your boots?”
“I gave them to another girl.” All the girls had grown since coming to the Berserker’s mountain. Here we had food every day, and often it was meat. I could not fault the warriors for that. Little Clover and Aspen’s eyes were bright and their cheeks rosy. Juniper had grown a foot in less than two moons. I’d given my boots to her.
Jarl tsked. “We would give you what you need. You’ve only to ask.”
“I wouldn’t dream of disturbing you with such a request. Surely you have more important things to do.”
“Nothing as important as seeing to you.”
Jarl moved in front of me on the path. I halted before I slammed into him. To my surprise, he knelt and set the bucket aside. His hand closed around my ankle and tugged. I went off balance and would’ve landed on my behind if Fenrir hadn’t caught me in his arms.
“What are you doing?” I squawked.
Jarl frowned as he examined my feet. “You need to wear your boots. It’s not summer anymore.”
“Don't touch me,” I snapped.
“You care so much for others, Juliet. But who will care for you?”
He let me go and Fenrir helped me to my feet. I moved away, clutching my cloak around myself as if that would protect me.
“Calm yourself,” Jarl had the audacity to chuckle. I clenched my fist to keep from slapping him. “You have nothing to fear.”
“No?” I rounded on him, snarling. “Then tell me, what is the purpose of holding us? Why did you bring us here to this mountain?” I knew the answer, of course, but all the anger I’d felt since that night in the abbey bubbled over.
“We seek women who can break our Berserker curse. You know this. Without a mate, we will go mad.”
“And if we do not wish to be
mates?”
Jarl cocked his head to the side. His gaze roamed up and down my form, and heat filled me, unbidden. “Give us a chance, little wife. You will be wanting and willing in no time.”
I drew on my rage and let it armor me.
“You invaded our home and took us for brides,” I snapped. “Some of these girls are no older than eight or nine summers. You would join them with warriors thrice their age?”
“There are many places where this is the custom,” he chided, and I flushed. I knew that was true. I’d lived all my life in the abbey, but I knew the ways of the world.
“They are so young.”
“Never fear, Juliet. The young ones are safe. You are safe.” He drew close. If I wanted, I could reach out and touch him. Trace the lines of his tattoos up his arms, and see how much skin they covered.
I locked my hands under my arms. I’d vowed to remain chaste and pure. Why, oh why did my palms ache to touch him?
“We wait until the spaewife is in heat,” Fenrir explained. “Then the warriors will be allowed to court her.”
“In heat?” I wrinkled my nose, unsure what he meant.
Jarl grinned and started to answer, but Fenrir cut him off. “The heat comes when the spaewife is ready to mate.”
“And if the spaewife is never ready?” I asked quickly.
“Then she need not fear.” Fenrir shrugged. “No warrior will touch a spaewife without permission. On pain of death. The Alphas have decreed it.”
I blinked and all my ire left in a rush. “Well, then, that is good.” The spaewives had told me this before, but I doubted them. Hearing Jarl and Fenrir confirm the Alphas’ decree calmed me.
“Is that all you wish to rant about, little wife?” Jarl’s eyes sparkled. “Or do you still wish to do battle?”
“Why do you call me wife? I am not a wife and never will be.”
“No?” Gold flared in Jarl’s eyes. He raised his head and sniffed the air in a smooth movement that reminded me of an animal. A wolf on the hunt.
My stomach fluttered and I smoothed my hands over my dress.
“I have a question,” Fenrir said. He rarely talked, but his deep voice commanded attention.
I turned to him. “Ask.”
Out of the corner of my eye, Jarl’s jaw hardened. I took perverse pleasure ignoring him in favor of the taller warrior.
Fenrir sat on a rock so he no longer loomed over me. “Why do so many of the orphan girls bear names for trees and flowers?”
Finally, an easy question. “Some girls came to the abbey as babes, with no names. The nuns named them. Sister Theresa named the first few for herbs, and the others followed convention.”
Fenrir nodded, his face solemn as if I’d spoken a great secret. His gravitas encouraged me to sit on a nearby rock and explain further. “In the case of Rosalind and her sister, Rosalind had a name, and Aspen did not. She was too young.”
“And your name is Juliet,” Jarl butted in.
“Yes.” I became very absorbed in picking a few flowers, the last blooms of mountain rue.
“So you knew your family,” Jarl persisted.
“No. I was still too young. But I was old enough to be delivered with a name.” I tossed the yellow flowers aside.
“Why did—” Jarl started to ask, and Fenrir cut him off with a mere shake of his dark head. Jarl subsided into silence with a muted snarl.
Strangely, it did not feel wrong to sit here in the morning light in the company of these Berserkers. Fenrir leaned down and snapped off a long stemmed daisy. He presented it to me and I took it, bringing it to my lips to hide my smile. I could feel Jarl tensing up, ready to explode.
“Fenrir,” I said. “That means “wolf.”
The ‘wolf’ in question dipped his head. I hesitated. These warriors, impossibly, were also wolves. And they had a third form, a monstrous shape I’d seen only a few times and at a distance, lurking in the woods. I wanted to ask after the Berserker curse, but couldn’t bring myself to. If the friar were here, he’d decry these men as demons.
I shouldn’t be curious. I should cross myself and try to pray.
Instead, I felt no fear, no dread of demons or hellfire. Only curiosity and the desire to run my hands through Fenrir’s long hair.
“Jarl’s mother chose his name against his father’s wishes,” Fenrir said. His voice was light, teasing, and he gave a rare smile. “Perhaps, if you ask nicely, he will tell you why.”
“Why?” I asked Jarl, who was glaring at Fenrir. The long-haired man laughed softly.
Jarl cleared his throat. “She thought I would become a jarl. An earl,” he translated the word into my tongue. “A lord among men.”
“Were you an earl’s son, then?” I asked, confused.
Jarl cursed and Fenrir laughed outright.
“You are wise, little mother,” Fenrir told me. Giddiness spread through me at his soft praise and heated gaze.
“Juliet,” a girl’s voice called, and I cursed under my breath. Meadow and Fern stood in the door of the lodge. Meadow shaded her eyes, looking for me. I jumped to my feet before they could see me seated and conversing with these men.
“I must go.” Once again, I reached for the buckets but Fenrir beat me to it. I drew back before our hands could touch.
“Are you frightened of us?” he asked, lifting both buckets.
“No,” I said without thinking. And it was true. I knew then they would not hurt me. I’d always known.
Fenrir’s eyes lit in triumph. I stood facing them, scrubbing my hands over my dress. Something between us had shifted, and I knew not what. Or perhaps I didn’t want to know.
“Go then, little mother.” Fenrir handed me the buckets and nodded for me to return to the lodge. “Tell the unmated spaewives to prepare for a feast in a few day’s time. Later, we will bring you the day’s meal.”
“Very well. Thank you. And...don't call me that.” I hurried off, wondering if I’d made a fool of myself.
Fenrir
I watched the little nun hurry across the fields. She met her friends, two unmated spaewives younger than her. They embraced her and went back inside the lodge.
“She’s coming into heat,” Jarl muttered. “She hopes to hide it. But I caught the scent.”
“She can’t hide from us.”
Down at the lodge, a throng of young girls tromped out, led by an older one. Juliet had a little one balanced on her hip. She did not glance at us as she ushered the girls along toward a flower-filled meadow in the other direction.
I crouched and touched the flowers Juliet had plucked and discarded. “She will resist, brother,” I said.
Jarl’s lip curled. “Easily overcome.”
“And what about the Alphas’ decree?”
“What about them?” he shrugged. “The Alphas say what they must, but when they found a spaewife they wanted for themselves, they did not hesitate to claim her.”
“It’s not the Alphas I’m concerned about. Their mates are protective of the unmated spaewives, especially the younger ones.”
“Juliet is not young. She is old enough to feel her desires.”
“And reject them.”
Jarl glanced at the sky. “In four night’s time, at the feast. There will be a full moon, and she will be in heat. We can make our desires known.”
I let the broken petals filter through my fingers and fall to the ground. “Juliet is smart. She knows what we desire. She desires the same. The question is, will she accept it?”
3
Juliet
Four nights later, we all gathered on the other side of the mountain for the feast. As night crept over the fields, the full moon hung low in the sky, big and round and golden.
“Harvest moon,” Sage said, traipsing from Laurel’s large hearth to the great bonfire nestled down the hill.
“Hunter’s moon,” Hazel corrected and set a platter of shiny braided bread down on a rough hewn plank that acted as a table.
“Honey Moon,” La
urel said without thinking and flushed when her friends giggled. Her figure was as lush as ever, her belly starting to curve under her full breasts.
I smiled at her and the others. I was older than these four, but we’d grown up together in the orphanage. They were the only sisters I’d known. “I hear that we will expect more than one babe after winter. Laurel’s is one, but who is the other?”
As one, Sage, Hazel, and Willow put hands over their flat bellies. Then their eyes grew wide as they looked around at each other.
“You, Hazel?” Willow cried, at the same time Sage said, “You two, Willow?”
“And Sage also,” Hazel announced. The three young women burst into squeals and started hugging one another.
“Oh. Oh my.” Fat tears rolled down Laurel’s face, even though her cheeks curved into a smile. “I’m happy, truly,” she waved us off when we’d comfort her.
My breath was sharp enough to cut my chest. “Congratulations.” I busied myself organizing the platters to make room for the meat. The Berserkers preferred to eat outside by the fires. Indeed, their main source of fun was building the bonfire as high as possible. Twice I’d had to warn the young girls back from the blaze. I’d brought a few blankets and spread them over the grass for us all to sit. Meadow, Angelica, and Fern were there now, keeping the little ones from running and getting underfoot.
Laurel was still crying. A huge warrior whose face was a mass of scars came up behind her. He bent and whispered in her ear, and pulled her close. She sighed and reached up to cup his neck as she leaned back on him. They made a lovely picture, the huge warrior cradling his curvy, pregnant bride.
I’ll never have that, I thought. When I made my vows, they came easily. I did not want to leave the abbey and marry a man of the friar’s choosing. I would be a nun. I would live my whole life in the shelter of the stone walls. I would be safe. I would live a life of my choosing. I loved children, but I could help in the orphanage and be surrounded by them without having them on my own.
The only thing I really had to give up was a future husband, and that was easy. What use did I have for a man? And if some nights I went to bed aching with loneliness, well, at least I would not have to submit to any man. Only God. I could conquer my own desires.
