by T S Florence
“I am very gentle,” Ragnar said, frowning.
“You are not very gentle,” Hilda laughed.
Hilda noticed Ragnar’s face lighten when she laughed, the creases in his face straightening out. She closed her eyes, savouring his smile and his scent. She allowed herself, for the first time since the day he had left her, to smile when she thought of him. She kept her face buried in his chest so he could not see her smile.
“I am the most gentle Earl in a hundred miles,” Ragnar said, holding her gently.
“You’re the only Earl in a hundred miles,” Hilda rolled her eyes.
“So you agree then?” Ragnar asked.
“I don’t think I have a choice now, do I?” Hilda giggled.
“I want you to remember this night, Hilda?” Ragnar said, quietly.
“Why?” Hilda whispered, breathing in his scent, her eyes widening slightly.
“This is the first night time I have ever beaten you with words,” He said, seriously.
“I’m going to sleep now,” Hilda rolled onto her back.
As she moved to her back, she felt Ragnar’s hand move across her body, landing softly on her bare stomach, causing goose bumps to shoot up her arms. She was suddenly intensely aware of how close his hand was to the junction between her legs. She tried to fight the feeling, but the more she fought, the more aware of it she grew, and the more aware of it she grew, the more sensation she felt, with every beat of her heart, a feeling of dull pleasure was matched between her legs.
She made the cross, and began to say a prayer to her god, asking for forgiveness, for she did not want him to be looking down on her in this moment, lying with another man, unwed, and yearning for him to touch her in places that can only be touched by a husband, for sleeping with a man out of wedlock was the greatest sin.
With her prayer, and believing that her god was watching over her, she managed to subdue her temptation to feel Ragnar’s own stomach, and imagine what was below, and instead fell into a deep sleep.
Ragnar
Ragnar woke up looking at the last fading stars, which were stubbornly refusing to leave the dawning sky. The sound of birds broke the silence, waking the sleeping forest. He did not move, he did not want to wake Hilda, whose head was resting on his chest. Her warm breath against his skin sending him close to madness.
She had started to let him get close again. He saw that he had broken her when he left her for all those years, and the only thing he could do to gain back her trust was be patient. But patience was not Ragnar’s strength.
Ragnar turned his head to his side and saw Torsten lying with Hilda’s dark-haired friend. Water droplets from the night shimmered in the grass around them, making them look as if they were in a picture from a fairy tale told to young children.
Ragnar turned back to Hilda, who moved slightly on his chest. Her hair shimmered in the morning light, her delicate features lit by the young sun. Her eyes opened, and locked with Ragnar’s, causing her to smile.
“Were you watching me sleep?” She asked.
“I was. You looked like one of the angels that your priests talk of,” Ragnar said.
“Oh stop, Ragnar. Since when did you pay any attention to priests?” Hilda giggled, as she gently lifted herself from his chest, and rubbed her eyes.
“Because I wanted to know more about your gods,” Ragnar said.
“Why?” Hilda asked.
“So, I can find a way to travel to your heavens in the afterlife,” Ragnar said.
“You will go to your Valhalla,” Hilda said, her face growing firm.
“I will go to where I want,” Ragnar said.
“You may defeat all the men in the world, but you cannot defeat God’s will, Ragnar,” Hilda said.
“I do not want to defeat, but simply negotiate,” Ragnar sighed.
“Then you should make friends with some powerful priests,” Hilda said.
“I will,” Ragnar said.
“You will go to your Valhalla and forget about me for four hundred years instead of four, I think,” Hilda said.
“Hilda not this again,” Ragnar groaned.
“What? Are you tired of me after one week already? You can leave again for another four years if I’m annoying you,” Hilda clipped.
“You will send me mad,” Ragnar growled, as he moved to his feet, feeling the cold wet grass beneath his toes.
“How will I send you mad?” Hilda asked, looking at him innocently.
“In more ways than one, Hilly,” Ragnar laughed.
“What does that mean?” Hilda asked, her face growing red.
“Nothing,” Ragnar moved away, before she could corner her with her clever words, and began warming food over the coals.
Patience Ragnar thought to himself, knowing that he was slowly gaining back her trust. Men began to wake and pack up camp. Torsten had left Brenna to continue sleeping, and started working on setting his horse up for the day of riding that they had ahead of them. Spring was beginning to come around, and the fields were looking green and lush; they sparked with dew in the morning light.
Once they had eaten a light breakfast, they commenced their journey. Hilda was riding at the very back of the group of travellers, so Ragnar slowed his horse’s pace to match hers. By the time he slowed enough to meet her, they were fifty yards from the nearest man.
“You travel slow,” Ragnar said.
“Slaves don’t usually get to ride horses, and I think my horse might be half donkey,” Hilda said.
“You’re not a slave,” Ragnar sighed.
“So, what would you do if I rode off into the forest?” Hilda asked.
“I would chase you,” Ragnar said.
“So, I’m not free,” Hilda said.
“I would chase you because it’s not safe,” Ragnar growled.
“My safety should not be your concern anymore,” Hilda pressed.
“I will care if I want to,” Ragnar said, looking at her.
“I will have nowhere to stay in Newcastle,” Hilda said.
“You will be staying in my house,” Ragnar said.
“You have a house?” Hilda asked.
“A large house, and it’s better than the poor-quality houses built by the English,” Ragnar said.
“Did you build it?” Hilda asked.
“It was built by the Romans, a long time ago. There are still pictures on the tiles,” Ragnar said.
“But don’t ghosts live in these houses?” Hilda asked.
“Not in mine,” Ragnar laughed.
“People will talk if I am living with you outside of wedlock,” Hilda sighed.
“Then we tell people you are still my slave, this is normal,” Ragnar said.
“I didn’t know you were this clever,” Hilda said, eyeing Ragnar carefully.
“Or you could marry me,” Ragnar said, his stomach tightening from the nerves of suggesting it. Ragnar, who had felt no fear charging into battle, but felt nerves from suggesting marriage with the only girl he had ever cared for in his life.
“Marry you?” Hilda said, her eyes wide.
“Well you could live with me in my house without judgment. And you wouldn’t need to pretend to be my slave,” Ragnar said.
“A wife is basically a man’s slave, anyway,” Hilda said.
“Not my wife,” Ragnar said.
“Can I have some time to think about it?” Hilda asked.
Patience, Ragnar thought to himself.
“Of course,” Ragnar said, feeling excited at the prospect of marrying Hilda. Could she end up loving him? Does she already love him, like his father said? Surely not, Ragnar thought. There was no way that the beautiful and clever Hilda would ever love him, the simple, huge man who only made his wealth by killing men and taking their gold.
He stared intently at the man behind him, enjoying the calm silence between himself and Hilda. She was actually considering living in his house, with him. No distractions; just Hilda, with him, in his house.
Hilda
Hilda was still trying to calm down the racing thoughts in her mind as the distant outline of Newcastle came into their view. The sun was beginning to set and stars were starting to peek through the sky. Ragnar had decided against travelling during the night; instead, they would camp under the stars for one more night.
“We will need to go and see Ivar and the princess, when we get into the township tomorrow,” Ragnar said.
“The princess? There’s a princess in Newcastle now?” Hilda asked.
“Yes. Though I don’t quite understand how it happened, even though Princess Isla has explained it to me many times,” Ragnar replied.
“Princess Isla?” Hilda said.
“Yes?” Ragnar replied, quizzically.
Isla. Duchess Isla. Princess Isla. It had to be the same person, Hilda thought. The same girl that she and Jack were friends with when they were children. But how was she a princess now? The thought of seeing her after all these years filled her with excitement, and she would likely know the whereabouts of Jack and her mother.
Suddenly Hilda’s stomach tightened, at the terrifying thought that Princess Isla might give her an answer that she might not want to hear. That something had happened to her mother, or Jack, or both. How could they have survived without their father, Hilda thought. Hilda realised that she was not ready to face Isla. She was sure that Isla would remember her, but the idea of seeing her the very next day almost made her fall into panic.
“Can you take me to your home to rest, while you go and visit your leader and the princess?” Hilda asked.
“You do not want to meet the princess?” Ragnar asked.
“Not right away, maybe after I’ve rested from the travel. You’ve made your home sound so lovely,” Hilda said.
“Well they aren’t going anywhere. You can meet them whenever you’re ready. I will take you to my house, first,” Ragnar said.
Ragnar set out their sleeping furs, making the bead as comfortable as he could for Hilda. She noticed that he even rolled up an extra blanket for her to rest her head on. She went and lay down and watched as Ragnar gave orders to men to stay awake on watch for the night. She enjoyed watching him walk up and down the lines of vikings, and the respect he commanded from his men. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally came and started to take off his weapons belt in front of her, but left his clothes on, in case he was required to rise quickly in the middle of the night.
Hilda tried to imagine what it would have looked like if he did not stop at just the weapons belt, but continued taking each item of clothing off, one by one. She tried to imagine his stomach muscles under his tunic, his thick thigh muscles under his pants, then the thought of what was between his thigh muscles caused her to blush and look away.
“What’s the matter?” Ragnar asked, as he settled down next to Hilda.
“Nothing,” Hilda replied, turning to face him.
Ragnar lay on his back, with his arm spread out for Hilda to rest her head on. Without thinking, Hilda found her hand resting gently on his stomach, and the hardness of his stomach muscles surprised her.
The prickly sensation of anticipation tingled on the back of her neck as she slowly moved her hand, feeling the muscles that jutted out, causing herself to grow excited. She went to move her hand away, but a low growl from Ragnar accompanied his hand as he took her hand in his, and rested it back on his stomach.
Hilda’s imagination ran wild with the possibilities of sharing a house with Ragnar, and whether or not he would continue to crawl into bed with her, until she fell asleep with her head on Ragnar’s chest, neglecting the blanket he had rolled up for her pillow.
40
Hilda
The morning went by in a blur, with Ragnar stomping about and ordering his men to get into orderly formation, and Hilda’s thoughts running in a loop of possible scenarios of when she would eventually meet Princess Isla. She had done so well at burying Rose that when the time had finally come to dig her back up, she wasn’t sure how. She wasn’t sure if she knew how to be Rose anymore. She was scared that she was irreconcilably Hilda. What if Jack and her mother, Elsbeth, were in Newcastle. Would they see Hilda, a woman from the North, or would they see Rose? Where did she truly belong, with whom?
“Are you ready to depart, Hilly?” Ragnar asked, once his men were packed for the last leg into Newcastle.
“I guess so,” Hilda replied, not even convincing herself.
“You will be with me,” Ragnar said, as he took her hand in his, and took her into his gaze.
“I know,” Hilda smiled, feeling slightly better, as she appreciated the warmth of his hands on her cold skin.
With that, Ragnar lifted Hilda onto her donkey-horse. But when they started to move, Hilda’s beast refused to follow.
“Ragnar,” Hilda called out, catching his attention, as she started to get left behind by the group.
“The stubborn half breed donkey,” Ragnar growled.
“Maybe it’s a sign to stay here one more night?” Hilda asked.
Ragnar laughed, but instead of responding, he lifted Hilda over onto his horse, nestling her snugly infant of him on his much larger destrier.
“What about my horse, we can’t just leave him here,” Hilda said, as Ragnar’s horse began to move again.
“It will follow when it starts to fear it will be left behind,” Ragnar said.
“How can you be so sure?” Hilda asked, as she relaxed backwards into Ragnar’s huge body.
“Wait and see,” he said, mildly.
Sure enough, after several minutes, Hilda turned her head to see the stubborn horse slowly following a hundred yards or so back.
“I could have stayed on him then,” Hilda said.
“I don’t want you so far from the pack, and if I stayed with you, he would have never moved,” Ragnar said.
“You think I would be in danger so close to Newcastle?” Hilda asked.
“There are opportunists and branded outlaws living in the forests that surround Newcastle. A pretty girl like you would be worth losing a limb,” Ragnar said.
“Ragnar please don’t say such things,” Hilda gripped his arm.
“It’s true, unfortunately. I told you, I’m not taking any risks with your safety,” Ragnar said.
“I can see that,” Hilda sighed, resting her head against his chest.
“So, are you going to tell me what or who is in Newcastle? If there is something a danger to you there, I want to know,” Ragnar said.
“Nothing a danger, I will tell you soon,” Hilda said, struggling to find the strength to join her two worlds together.
“When you’re ready,” Ragnar said, quietly.
“Thank you,” Hilda said.
“Thank you for what?” Ragnar asked.
“For being patient with me,” She said.
“I should be the one thanking you for forgiving me,” Ragnar replied, barely a whisper.
“Who says I’ve forgiven you,” Hilda sighed, as she felt his hand wrap around to her stomach. Suddenly she felt an unmistakable hardness poking into her backside.
“Ragnar,” Hilda gasped.
“I tried to fight it, but if there is one fight I cannot win, it is the fight against my manhood while you’re sitting on it,” Ragnar said, bashfully.
Hilda felt herself going bright red, and she was thankful that he could not see her face, but another part of her, deeper within, burned with desire. She felt herself growing warm and wet, and before she knew it, found herself wiggling against it, her curiosity wanting to know more about it.
“Hilda, I won’t be responsible for what happens if you keep wiggling your behind on me like that,” Ragnar growled.
“Ragnar,” Hilda gasped, surprised by his admission.
Hilda was thankful that the trip into Newcastle was short, for the building tension was causing her to squirm, and she could tell that her squirming did nothing to help Ragnar’s situation, either.
There was no welcoming party, for the peopl
e of Newcastle would not have expected Ragnar to arrive by horseback, since they had continued on by boat just two days before. After the guard recognised Ragnar, their party was let through the gates. Hilda recognised the streets that travelled up to the castle of Newcastle, and was relieved when Ragnar took a left turn, onto a well-kept, quiet street. The houses on this street had great pillars out the front, and were decorated with faded paintings and tiles.
