by T S Florence
“For what? I’m still a slave,” Hilda clipped.
“I can leave you here if you would like,” Ragnar waved his hand toward the series of ramshackle huts that lined the shore.
“Go to hell, Ragnar,” Hilda huffed, before she climbed into the boat with her dark-haired friend, who she called Brenna.
Ragnar had expected tears of joy and hugs upon finding her, if he found her at all, but the reality of the situation had left his dark mood as it was. He wanted to shake sense into her, to tell her all that he had done for her, but he knew it would fall on deaf ears. Not only that, but he knew she was smarter than him, and anything he said she would twist and contort into something bad, leaving him without an answer, like the men he faced in battle.
As quickly as they had arrived, they were now they now left, as they boarded their ships, to leave the small village with half of their men dead. Ragnar had stopped the slaughter, for he knew that if he left the village without men, then the women and children would struggle to survive.
He sat in the bow of the boat and looked back at Hilda, who sat with her friend Brenna. They huddled together and spoke in hushed voices. She was even more beautiful than the day he had left her, four years ago. Every now and then, she caught him staring and shot scowl at him. He would turn his head, and pretend to observe the swell of the ocean, but every time he knew he was too late, and felt like a silly boy being caught staring at his crush.
“That Brenna girl is from your village,” Torsten said to Ragnar.
“I guess so. I do not remember her,” Ragnar said. The truth was, Ragnar did not remember any of the girls, for if he was not with Hilda, then he was roaming the streets with a gang of boys, fighting and causing trouble.
“I like her,” Torsten said, thoughtfully.
Ragnar raised his eyebrows at him. “What did you do with the man who had taken her?”
“He begged for his life, but I threw him off a cliff,” Torsten said.
“Did she become angry with you?” Ragnar thought back to how angry Hilda had become when he killed her captor.
“She didn’t say a word. She’s very quiet,” Torsten said.
“Quiet sounds nice,” Ragnar looked back to Hilda.
“She is nice,” Torsten said, which caused Ragnar to raise his eyebrows again.
The journey back to Fyrkat was cold and wet. Ragnar had men fasten tanned skins across the top of the boat in an attempt to keep out the rain but the icy droplets still seemed to find their way into the boat and onto their skin. Ragnar always believed that being cold was part of being a viking, but that didn’t make the harsh winters any easier to deal with.
He gingerly made his way over to Hilda and Brenna, careful not to disrupt the tanned skins that sheltered them from the rain, which were no doubt pooling with water on top. Without saying a word, he unfastened his great brown bear skin and wrapped it around Hilda, whose goose bumped skin shivered from the cold.
“I don’t want your charity,” Hilda glowered, yet she did not remove the skin.
“I’m not offering you charity,” Ragnar growled, as he roughly tightened the fur around her shoulders.
“Could you be a little gentler, Ragnar the Destroyer?” Hilda squished her eyebrows together.
“Being gentle wouldn’t have helped me to save your life,” Ragnar said back.
“I’m starting to think a life with Dag would have been nice,” Hilda smiled at him.
“Very well, I will order you to be sent back,” Ragnar smiled equally in hope that it would mask his annoyance.
“Stop being an ass,” Hilda dropped her smile and revealed her annoyance.
“You could try showing a little gratitude, I saved you from a life of slavery from that man. He would have taken you unwillingly,” Ragnar pointed out.
“I don’t think he would have,” Hilda said, though without conviction.
“Then you don’t know men,” Ragnar turned around and made his way back to the front of the boat.
Hilda
“He’s probably right,” Brenna looked at Hilda.
“You aren’t actually taking his side, are you? What could he possibly be right about?” Hilda raised her palms under the enormous bear skin. It was only when she moved her hands that she realised she no longer shook from the piercing cold.
“That man… Dag… he was only taking you for one reason,” Brenna said.
“I don’t think so,” Hilda said.
“Why, because it hasn’t happened to you before?” Brenna asked, before continuing, “have you already forgotten the way he looked at you? He could have bargained for me as well but he was only interested in laying with you,” Brenna put a hand on Hilda’s knee.
Hilda looked at Ragnar, and caught him staring at her once again. He averted his gaze to the mast of the ship, acting as if he hadn’t been staring at her. She fought herself from laughing at his intense expression, as if he was inspecting the grain of the wood. She summoned her anger back, and used it to shoot a scowl at him.
“Why are you so angry with him?” Brenna asked.
“He left me,” Hilda said.
“What do you mean?” Brenna asked.
“It’s a long story,” Hilda said, lifting her arm to invite Brenna into the warmth.
They laid down, and let the ocean rock them to sleep. Despite the cold and wet and violent rocking of the boat, Hilda slept better than she had since the day she was taken from Fyrkat.
The grinding of the hull against rocks and sand jolted Hilda awake. She sat upright, causing Brenna to stir next to her. Hilda immediately looked to the front of the boat, hoping that everything with Ragnar had not been a dream. She was pleased to see him standing in the morning light. His tanned muscles rippled under the sun as he pulled the boat further onto the shore.
She stood and looked onto the beach. What she saw left her speechless. Fyrkat had been restored to its former glory, and then some. Men were working and laughing. Some of whom he recognised, and some she assumed were Ragnar’s men.
“Hilda?” A familiar, deep rumbling voice sounded out over the beach, finding its way to her.
Elder Ragnar, alive and healthy, was striding towards the boat. Hilda scrambled out of the bear fur, leaving Brenna still laying down and only half awake.
“Raggie,” Hilda said, jumping from the boat into his arms.
“Little fighter,” he sobbed happily.
“I thought you were dead,” Hilda buried her face into his chest.
“Those bastard raiders couldn’t have killed me if they tried,” Elder Ragnar said, despite his wounds.
Younger Ragnar cleared his throat, breaking up the reunion.
“I see Fyrkat has been appropriately restored,” He said.
“Yes, just like you ordered,” Elder Ragnar said, shaking his son’s hand.
Ragnar immediately began to question his father as to the methods of the rebuilding of Fyrkat, interrupting their reunion.
Hilda watched Torsten lift Brenna from the boat, but she did not smile as she did when he lifted her from the horse, just days earlier. Her family, Hilda thought. Brenna was coming back to the place where her family had been slaughtered.
Hilda ran to Brenna and embraced her. “Oh, Brenna,” Hilda said, letting Brenna sob quietly.
Hilda looked over to Torsten, who started at Brenna with a stony face. The huge man with pale hair gripped the hilt of his sword as if he could attack Brenna’s sadness like he would attack an enemy.
She glanced over at Ragnar, who spoke with his father. She no longer saw a young happy boy, but instead she now saw a man with a darkness to him. Not only that, but he was once a handsome young man. Now, he was so devastatingly attractive that it made Hilda confused when her head told her to never trust him again and take every promise with a grain of salt, but her heart was begging her to let him back in. To welcome his embrace.
He had protected her ever since she had arrived on his shores, at just thirteen years old. From the very first day, he
had defied other men from taking advantage of her, and he had respected her, and listened to her voice. They had been best friends. Now, he had come back and saved her life, and she could still feel a connection, but something in her mind stopped her from letting him in.
She realised she had been staring at him when he turned to her and a confused look took place on his face. Now it was Hilda’s turn to look at the mountains behind Ragnar, as if there were something of critical importance that she needed to see in the rocky cliff face.
You cannot forgive him. You cannot trust his words.
“This is your home?” Hilda heard Torsten speaking to Brenna.
“Yes… well, it was my home,” Brenna replied, softly.
“Your family?” Torsten prodded.
“They were killed by the raiders,” Brenna said.
“And they did it to an unguarded village, cowards,” Torsten spat.
“It is ok,” Brenna said.
“I would go back and kill them all for you,” Torsten said, looking at Brenna.
“That is not necessary,” Brenna said, touching Torsten’s hand.
Torsten’s eyes lit up at Brenna willingly touching him, and Hilda could only imagine that if he had a tail it would have wagged like an excited puppy being rewarded by its human.
“What can I do?” Torsten asked.
“Just be here,” Brenna shrugged her shoulders.
“Ok,” Torsten said, taking a confused look similar to that of Ragnar’s, earlier.
Ragnar’s voice made Hilda jump, “You and father will be staying in the Earl’s hall, with me.”
“Yes, master,” Hilda replied.
“Do not call me master,” Ragnar said.
“Then what shall I call you, master?” Hilda asked.
“I do not care. You call father Raggie,” Ragnar said.
Hilda fought herself from laughing when she heard Ragnar use the pet name she had made for his father, and kept a straight face, “But I do not see your father like an owner,” Hilda said, knowing that her words would sting Ragnar.
He flexed his jaw, staring at her with a dark expression, as if contemplating what to say.
“Very well, slave,” he said, before turning and walking towards the great hall.
Hilda was furious that Ragnar had called her slave. He had never done it before, when they were teenagers. It was as if they were equals, but now she could tell that the dynamic of their friendship had changed. It was more serious. She could feel the stakes of their relationship being set much higher.
She knew that it was only her fault that he had resorted to calling her slave, acknowledging that he would play the game she wanted to play.
37
Ragnar
Life in Fyrkat was returning to normal, and Ragnar was filled with nostalgia every day that they spent in the small fishing village. He was still filled with a sadness at the news of his mother, but he felt that this was not something he could speak to his father or Hilda about, for he had chosen to leave Fyrkat and go raiding instead of stay on the farm, like his father had wanted.
“I guess you will be heading back, soon,” Elder Ragnar said.
“Yes, my life is in England, with my blood warriors,” Ragnar said, with a tinge of regret.
“I understand,” his father said.
“I will take Hilda,” Ragnar said.
“You think I will let you, boy?” Elder Ragnar challenged him, disregarding that Ragnar was in fact a grown man, bigger than even himself.
“You still see her as a slave?” Ragnar asked his father.
“What makes you think I would let you take her?” Elder Ragnar continued.
“If you do not see her as a slave then she should be free to make her own choices. She has always wanted to go back to her home. And she deserves that,” Ragnar said to his father.
“You’re right,” Elder Ragnar smiled, as if satisfied with his son’s answer, and he glanced over to Hilda, who was sitting on the far side of the great hall speaking with Brenna besides a fire.
“You love her,” Elder Ragnar said.
“I do not-” Ragnar began to say, but his father interrupted, “You do. You’ve loved her since you first saw her. You were just a stupid boy and you didn’t know what it was. But your mother and I could tell. I am not surprised you came back for her,” Elder Ragnar said.
“I came back for all of you,” Ragnar replied.
“Of course,” his father said, wheezing a laugh.
“I will come back more often, father. You will rule as Earl in my place,” Ragnar said.
“Do not let me distract you from your path in life, son. You must do what you need to do. If that doesn’t involve Fyrkat, then I do not want you to come back,” His father said, with intensity.
Ragnar looked away this time, fighting to keep himself from becoming emotional, and instead looked at Hilda. Her golden locks were illuminated by the flames, causing shadows to dance around her face.
“I will come back,” Ragnar said.
Hilda looked over at Ragnar, but this time he did not look away. She stopped what she was saying and kept her gaze on Ragnar, and for the first time since he had received the news of the attack on Fyrkat, he felt his anger dissipate for just a moment. He had never known a more kind or smart woman. When he was younger, he was jealous of her cleverness. But as he grew older, he understood how important it was for a woman to be smart in this world, and he was happy for her.
Hilda raised her eyebrows at him, and Brenna started to stare as well.
“Tell her,” Elder Ragnar said to him.
Ragnar stood and walked the short distance to the hearth, where Hilda and Brenna were sitting.
“Have you come to apologise?” Hilda asked.
“For what?” Ragnar asked, feeling his anger return.
“You know what for,” Hilda said, looking at him.
“I came to tell you that I am leaving tomorrow. My duty here is done,” Ragnar said.
“Oh,” Hilda said, gripping at the side of her arm uncertainly.
“You can come as well, if you want,” Ragnar said.
Hilda’s cheeks became rosy as she stared silently at him, while obviously considering her answer.
“My home is Fyrkat now,” she said.
“But-” Ragnar began, but Hilda cut him off. “But what? But you promised to take me back to England? Well you broke that promise so you have no more obligations to me. Your father has always been good to me and has never abandoned me,” Hilda said.
“That’s not fair,” Ragnar growled.
“What you did wasn’t fair. Saying goodbye to your mother without you wasn’t fair. Being taken as your slave wasn’t fair,” Hilda clipped, before taking Brenna’s hand and walking over to Elder Ragnar, where she sat down with her back to Ragnar.
Ragnar’s mind was blank with shock from the words he had just received. He always knew how Hilda felt, but he did not anticipate her to be so angry when he returned. It was becoming clear to him that merely saving her from slavery to another man was not going to earn back her affection or trust. He sat by the hearth, throwing pieces of reed that lined the floor into the fire.
Hilda
“Still haven’t forgiven him?” Elder Ragnar said to Hilda, as she sat down with Brenna.
“I will never forgive him,” Hilda said, crossing her arms.
“Still, you should go home. See if you can find your mother and brother,” Elder Ragnar said.
Hilda felt her chest tighten with anxiety as she looked up to him. “You have already spoken with Ragnar?”
“I have. And I won’t have time for you here, anymore. You will be a nuisance while I am running this village. I want you to go,” He said.
“A nuisance? You know that I would give you better counsel than any man in this village,” Hilda rolled her eyes.
“You’re a damn young woman, you don’t know the world that well,” Elder Ragnar growled.
“I’m not going,” Hilda repeated.
“You’re going, or I’ll put you to hard labour,” Elder Ragnar said.
“You wouldn’t,” Hilda gasped.
“You wouldn’t survive a day of hard labour, either” Elder Ragnar laughed, before continuing, “Never has a slave lived a better life than their owner, until you,” he said.
