The Northmen Series Box Set

by T S Florence

  Hilda knew it was true. Elder Ragnar was more like a father than her owner. He had always treated her with kindness and love. Part of her did not want to leave Elder Ragnar in Fyrkat, alone, and part of her was scared to leave him to go back to her home country.

  “Fyrkat is no life for you, sweet Hilda, you deserve and need something bigger. Your mind needs something more. You must go home, or you will die a bitter old woman,” he said with more affection than before.

  “I don’t want to leave you,” a sob escaped Hilda, which filled her with embarrassment.

  Elder Ragnar

  Elder Ragnar always knew his son would come back to Hilda, and he knew that when the time came, Hilda would betray her heart because her honour would stop her from ever leaving. He knew that he would have to push her away, to allow her to follow her heart. Despite himself. Despite rendering himself alone. And he knew that Earl was the loneliest path of them all.

  “Have you got your blankets?” Elder Ragnar fussed, as he loaded Hilda’s belongings onto the boat.

  “Yes Raggie,” Hilda smiled, as she bounced on her toes, at the end of the jetty.

  Young Ragnar was jumping from boat to boat, giving orders to his men. Everyone who was leaving Fyrkat was now on the boats except for Hilda, and the other twenty men who had volunteered to stay in Fyrkat. Because of the raids, many women were left without husbands, so these men chose to fill their places. Hilda was not yet on the boat, Elder Ragnar knew, because she wanted to stay with him until her very last moment. That was her loyalty.

  “I want you to send word to the next boat leaving for the North,” Elder Ragnar said.

  “I will send word every week,” Hilda said.

  “I don’t think boats will leave every week, especially not in this weather,” Elder Ragnar pointed to the dark clouds.

  “Well I will send word with every boat that goes. I will tell them to find the Great Earl Elder Ragnar of Fyrkat and send him my love,” Hilda said, her eyes filled with excitement and happiness.

  Finally, the time came to leave. The furthest boats began to slowly row out to the open sea. Hilda jumped into his arms, crying and asking him if he was sure that he wanted her to go. No. I don’t want you to go. I am losing my son for the second time, and now I will lose you too. “Of course I’m sure, get on the boat you silly girl,” Elder Ragnar playfully pushed her head, directing her towards the boat.

  He lifted her over the gap and into the boat, which Young Ragnar was in charge of. Hilda had objected riding in the same boat as him at first, but Young Ragnar said he would not let her come if she did not ride in his boat. Elder Ragnar laughed at this. He knew that Hilda would come around, for she loved his boy just as much as his boy loved her, maybe even more. But Young Ragnar wouldn’t know that. He did not see the heartbreak that she went through for the next eighteen months after he was gone. She was a shell of herself. And it wasn’t because she didn’t get to go back to England, he knew that. It was because she believed his son betrayed her.

  Ragnar leaped from the boat to embrace his father as his boat was being untied.

  “Be patient, my son. Be patient and be smart. She will come around. She loved you just as you loved her,” Elder Ragnar pushed his inner turmoil down, and projected strength, as he had always done.

  “I will return, father,” Ragnar said.

  “Only return if it is necessary. I don’t need you risking your life on the rough seas just to say hello to your old father,” Elder Ragnar replied.

  “I will see you again,” Ragnar said, as he jumped onto the departing boat.

  Once the boats had left the harbour and made it out onto the horizon, Elder Ragnar’s shoulders slumped down, and he felt his chest sink back into his body. When he entered the privacy of the Earl’s room, he broke down. He had lost his only happiness left in this world, but he must live on. This is how life goes, I suppose. You are born surrounded by love, and then you die alone.

  Ragnar

  Ragnar was surprised that Brenna had decided to come with Hilda. He suspected Torsten helped her make the decision. She sat with Hilda, who was teaching her some basic English words and prayers. He was also surprised at how interested Brenna was in learning about Hilda’s strange god. The English had an unhealthy devotion to their God, which made their people fearful of doing certain things, and do strange things, like going to sit in a church on a Sunday, where they listened to smelly old priests tell their stories.

  Ragnar believed their god made them weak. Ragnar knew that all Christians expected to go to heaven, and not Valhalla, and in their heaven, there was no fighting, but only clouds and singing and angels and peace. It sounded boring. Not like Valhalla, where men died and went to drink fight every night in the great halls of the gods, with Odin and Thor, only to die and be reborn every day.

  Ragnar considered his father’s words. She loved you just as you loved her. Patience. He looked at his golden-haired slave, her delicate features that had captivated him since the moment he first saw her on Fyrkat’s beach as a boy. From the moment he saw her, his protective instinct had kicked in, and he would not let anyone do anything to harm her. She was his advisor. She was his best friend. She was his. She was his slave. his.

  Before Ragnar’s brain had caught up with his body, he found himself moving over to them, and sitting closer, so he could hear their conversation. Years of living in England had improved his English, allowing him to speak fluent. He would not have gotten as good as he had, if Hilda hadn’t taught him when they were teenagers.

  “I’m teaching Brenna some of the English language,” Hilda said to Ragnar.

  “And of your gods as well,” Ragnar said.

  “Just one god,” Hilda replied.

  “Sure,” Ragnar said, waving his hand.

  “You never did care for learning about my god,” Hilda said, rolling her eyes, before she continued, “You were always too concerned with learning about your own gods, where you would be allowed to fight and drink in Valhalla.”

  “That’s right, real gods,” Ragnar smiled at Hilda.

  “My god is real,” Hilda shot backs a dark expression.

  “What do you intend to do when you get to England?” Ragnar asked, changing the subject.

  “Well whatever you are doing, as I am your slave,” Hilda said.

  “You won’t be a slave in England,” Ragnar said.

  Hilda’s eyes widened at Ragnar’s response, her face a mix of confusion.

  “Well, I won’t be free, either. I have nothing,” Hilda said.

  “Father told me you have a mother and brother,” Ragnar replied.

  “That’s none of your business,” Hilda clipped.

  “All those years we spent together, telling each other everything, yet you never told me of your family. But you tell my father?” Ragnar said, feeling himself becoming heated.

  “Because I told him when I was ready. I told him when you were killing my countrymen,” Hilda said, turning to face him.

  “Because the six years we spent together every single day wasn’t enough for you to be ready?” Ragnar growled.

  “All you thought about was going to war, you wouldn’t have cared,” Hilda said.

  “That’s foolish. You’re still a foolish girl,” Ragnar growled, turning away.

  “I’m foolish?” Hilda laughed her question at him, before she stood up and moved in front of him, level with his eyes, so he couldn’t avoid her.

  “Remember when you wanted to trade all of the farming equipment for that stupid axe that broke after only one week? Remember how angry Elder Ragnar was?” Hilda asked. “If it wasn’t for me you would have traded everything you had, because you were so stupid and obsessed with weapons,” she continued.

  “All I remember is standing up for you when the man expected you to be beaten,” Ragnar smiled back.

  “Of course, you bring my slavery back into it. Because you’re stupid,” Hilda glowered.

  “Maybe I won’t free you,” Ragnar turned aw
ay to avoid her gaze.

  “Oh, will you tie me up and drag me around like a slave?” Hilda asked, putting her hand on his cheek and pulling his face back towards her.

  “Like a slave? You are a slave,” Ragnar said.

  “I hate you Ragnar. I have hated you since the day you left. You know, your name Ragnar the Destroyer suits you. Ragnar the Destroyer of Promises,” Hilda pushed his chest as she rose to her feet and moved back to Brenna.

  Ragnar felt the sting of her accusation, mainly because he knew it was true. He had left her. He abandoned her. He made a promise to her and he didn’t fulfil that promise. Patience, his father had told him. Be patient, he reminded himself.

  Hilda

  “Are you ok?” Brenna asked Hilda.

  “He drives me mad. He came and sat near us just to pick a fight. He still knows exactly what to say to make me angry,” Hilda glowered, as she looked down and noticed that her hands were shaking.

  “I don’t think it was his intention. I think you two need to sit down and really talk,” Brenna said, taking Hilda’s hand.

  “We were talking just then, and you saw how it went,” Hilda said.

  Part of Hilda was jealous that Ragnar had grown into a successful man. Where they had once been so close that they knew almost everything about each other, when Ragnar was just a boy who spent the days wandering the mountains and fields surrounding Fyrkat with Hilda. Now, he was now a leader of men, with a horrible name. Ragnar the Destroyer.

  He had grown into a devastatingly handsome man, with scars on his face that told a story of men who failed to kill him. His looked intimidated her; not the scars, but his handsomeness. He was more than the boy who left Fyrkat. Dark hair that flowed to his shoulders, which framed a face that painters would kill to have the opportunity to bring to life on a piece of canvas.

  Not only was he the biggest and most charismatic, and most notorious man, but he was also the most handsome. And for some reason, this annoyed Hilda to no end. An inner part of her felt that he had outgrown her. That he still saw her as a girl. She had never been given an opportunity to grow up with him, or even on her own. He had left her behind.

  “That wasn’t a proper talk, you should try and hear his story. There might be more to it than you think,” Brenna said.

  “He called me a foolish girl and a slave,” Hilda said to Brenna, “You are free now. You were freed when you were rescued, but I am still a slave,” Hilda said.

  “You know that Ragnar doesn’t see you as a slave. He sees you very, very differently from that,” Brenna smirked.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Hilda asked, being so inexperienced with men.

  “You’ll find out eventually,” Brenna laughed.

  “Oh, you spend two nights with Torsten and now you are so experienced in the world?” Hilda asked, feeling annoyed.

  “I guess so,” Brenna giggled, resting her head on Hilda’s shoulder.

  Hilda rolled her eyes, but felt some embarrassment at Brenna’s comments. Hilda knew that she meant Ragnar saw her as someone he would want to lay with, but she did not understand why he would. She was a slave. She had been a slave to his family her entire life. And Ragnar was the warrior that all the girls wanted to be with, and who all men either feared or respected. He had never paid attention to the advances of other girls, and had treated Hilda like a friend.

  Friend. Because that’s how he saw her, Hilda thought. He didn’t see her as more than that. Brenna simply didn’t know their relationship. She didn’t know their history. She didn’t know of the nights that Ragnar would spend lying next to her in her bed, telling her stories of adventure across the seas, where there were seas of sand that stretched as far as the eye could see - so far, in fact, that no man could cross them before dying of thirst.

  Hilda found herself smiling at the memories of lying with Ragnar, falling asleep next to him, feeling protected from the outside world, with images of faraway adventures. I will take you with me, he told her. We will go on adventures together. Hilda believed him. She believed his promises of adventure and protection.

  “Why are you smiling?” Ragnar had approached Hilda again, without her noticing, for she had been so immersed in her memories of her younger years with Ragnar.

  Hilda noticed that Brenna was now preoccupied with Torsten, playing with the beads in his hair, giggling at the words he whispered into her ears. She felt able to speak more freely.

  “I was thinking of when we were younger,” Hilda said.

  Ragnar sat down next to her, careful not to step on her or squish her. There was not a lot of space on the boats with all of the men and cargo.

  “Which memories were you thinking of?” Ragnar asked, frowning.

  “When you would tell me stories of adventures and seas of sand,” Hilda replied.

  “I remember. We would lie together and I would tell you stories until you would fall asleep,” Ragnar said.

  Hilda rolled her eyes, “You fell asleep before me almost every night,” she replied.

  “That’s not how I remember it,” Ragnar scratched at his beard.

  “Obviously you’ve received too many blows to the head in battle,” Hilda said, looking at his head as if inspecting for evidence.

  “You had trouble sleeping, so I would wait for you to sleep. I remember it clearly,” he said, frowning at her.

  “Maybe I pretended to fall asleep to let you think you were doing a good job,” Hilda said.

  “Never,” Ragnar put a hand on his chest, as if insulted.

  “Your stories did help me sleep,” Hilda said, patting his arm.

  She noticed a smile on his face as he patted his arm, and felt his eyes lock onto hers, like a wolf on its prey.

  She turned away, only to notice Brenna and Torsten both smirking at them. They started laughing when Hilda looked at them.

  “Mind your own business,” Ragnar said, throwing an apple at Torsten’s head.

  “Sorry I can’t hear you through all of this tension,” Torsten replied.

  Ragnar kicked Torsten’s leg, causing him to yelp and slide back, out of his reach.

  “Stop it Ragnar,” Hilda said, though she was still embarrassed.

  “Just looking out for you,” Ragnar said.

  “I appreciate you taking me back from those vikings, but I do not need your constant protection. I did just fine without you for the past four years,” Hilda clipped.

  “I am growing tired of this,” Ragnar said in a low voice, with a hard jaw.

  “Oh, you’ve had a tiring few days have you?” Hilda asked, sarcastically.

  Ragnar stood to his feet, and made his way back to the front of the boat, where he sat, watching the waves roll by.

  Hilda felt a tinge of guilt for attacking him again, but the pain that she thought she had healed over the years had returned. Her wounds of Ragnar’s abandonment were beginning to reopen.

  Ragnar

  Patience, Ragnar thought to himself, knowing that Hilda was saying these things from a place of pain. He knew that no matter the words she said, or the things she did, she did not mean them. He looked at her. Her folded arms and sad expression told him that she disliked the confrontation as much as he did. He thought back to the times they were teenagers, before he had ruined everything. Before he had left for her home country without her.

  He was 18 years old then, and he was stupid. He did not ask questions, he simply got on the boat and left with a band of vikings, with hopes of taking the world for their own. And that is exactly what they did. He remembered the words he said silently to himself, as he looked at Hilda, as she walked away from him, before he boarded the boat that took him away from her.

  Four years earlier

  Hilda had not spoken to Ragnar for the entire week, ever since she had found out he was intending to leave. He had known for months before, but had been too afraid to tell her. It was Elder Ragnar who finally told Hilda, forcing him to confront the issue.

  When Hilda found out, she had
chased him though a field, throwing rocks at him, and swung his wooden training sword at him when she got close enough. Finally, Ragnar stopped running, and let her hit him with the wooden sword.

  “What are you doing, Hilda, what did I do this time?” Ragnar had asked, blocking the sword with his forearm from hitting his head. There was always something Ragnar was doing that made Hilda angry. This time, however, he could tell it was something serious.

  “Elder Ragnar told me,” Hilda cried, dropping the sword to the ground.