by Susan Wright
When I was finally released by Lexander to begin speaking again, it hardly sent a ripple through the haushold. In truth, it was the happiest winter of my life, especially since Lexander began to regularly call me to his bed. I was able to savor his strong body and feel him delight in me during the night. Under cover of darkness, he stroked me and murmured words of tenderness that I had never heard from him. I knew that when he entered me, moving together with me like the sea I had come to understand, we were both fulfilled. He reveled in my shameless response, pitched to great heights because of the silent seasons. I was glad my modesty had been burned out so that I could serve him in the way he liked best. When we awoke, I enjoyed his suffused expression in the light slanting through the window. The mornings that he did not make love to me were a disappointment, but were rare for all that.
Because of Lexander’s attentions, Helanas treated me more harshly. When one of the Skraeling sisters spilled a full bucket of water, Helanas descended on the poor girl in wrath. She was the weaker of the two and I feared her spirit would break as Kinirniq’s had, so I claimed it was my fault, though both Helanas and Lexander knew that it wasn’t.
Helanas eagerly dragged me to the fire hall, where there was a ring mounted high in the wall. It was intended for lifting up barrels and crates to the storage platform. But it was also Helanas’ favorite form of punishment. She tightened the ropes around my wrists and hauled me up into the air. My feet couldn’t get purchase against the bricks, so I dangled. It grew harder to breathe and my arms felt as if they were being pulled from my shoulders. Helanas poked at me, laughing as I cried out from the pain of twisting away.
She toyed with me for a long time, and when she finally let me down, none of the other slaves returned to help me. So I lay there on the floor trying to summon the strength to crawl back to the slave hall.
But Lexander found me. Kneeling beside me, he asked, “Did you want to be hurt, Marja?”
“No.” I winced as I tried to sit up. “But better me than the Skraeling girl. I can accept it.”
His eyes were shining in the darkness as he put his arms around me, lifting me up. He carried me through the courtyard to his chamber, murmuring, “I saw your selflessness first in Tillfallvik, when you helped Silveta at the cost of your own flesh. I knew then you were special, that you give everything of yourself.”
It nearly made me swoon with pleasure to hear his praise.
Yet as close as we grew, I didn’t feel that he cared for me more than the other slaves until one cold winter morning. We had slept late, and it was peaceful on the estate, with everyone avoiding the lightly falling snow. I couldn’t even hear the sounds of dogs barking or the freemen feeding the cattle in the snug barn. I lay in bed watching the fat white flakes float down past the window, thinking it was magical to be able to see the snow from our snug nest.
Lexander slid out from under the warm furs and padded softly across the room. I could tell he thought I was asleep. He went to the window and sat on the cushioned seat, gazing out at the snow-covered hills. Though he was naked, he didn’t seem to notice the chill air.
I watched him in the pearly light for a long time, wondering what he was thinking, staring out on his estate. He had everything a man could desire, yet he seemed dissatisfied. His hand kept clenching into a fist, as if he longed to fight, but he could not bring himself to do it.
Finally I got up and went to him, putting my arms around him from behind. When we were alone he encouraged me to be assertive. The other slaves were conditioned by Helanas to be always timid and meek. She tried to break me as well. But after I learned that Lexander enjoyed my boldness, I expressed my affection for him whenever I could.
Standing behind him, I caressed his neck and shoulders, feeling his muscles beneath his skin. It seemed I could never get enough of him. As I leaned forward, I saw the mirror on the table. It was angled in such a way that it caught his reflection. His expression, normally so reserved, shifted before my eyes. As I kissed him lightly, letting my lips tell him of my love, his face seemed to crumple as a tear slipped down his cheek. The hardened mask he always wore fell away and his inua shone through. I saw his deep misery and confusion, and it pierced my heart. But before I could speak, his tension eased and his eyes shone brighter. My simple touch was soothing him, as if he felt an immense relief just from being in my arms.
He grasped my hand, and without turning, kissed it. Tears rose in my eyes. He needed me. I had never imagined such a thing before. This great man with everything in the world lacked the one thing I alone could give him—true and pure devotion from a fervent heart.
When he finally turned, his face was back to normal. But now I could see his pain, and it made me ache inside to know my love was in torment.
He took me in his arms and kissed me deep, as if clinging to a rope in a stormy sea. We made love, and it was something beyond passion. It was soft yet urgent, wordless. I knew it was the first time we had come together as equals rather than master and slave.
We had many such mornings, treasures I stashed away to examine in the privacy of my own thoughts. I never told the other slaves.
With the simplicity of youth, I didn’t question my prosperous life until early spring when I returned home to my village for a visit. Lexander had promised my da that I would see my family when the ice broke, and as soon as Nauga Sea was open, Lexander was true to his word. I thought it was an innocent indulgence, a fulfillment of his agreement with my da. Then I remembered that Vidaris used slaves as bait, letting us testify to the luxury of the estate and the sophistication of our lives. Our stories undoubtedly spread to inspire other young people to leave their homes in his care. Whatever his reason, Lexander announced that his word to my da held prior claim over Ejegod’s proclamation of exile.
As we sailed across the Nauga Sea, I communed with the sea spirits the entire way, telling them everything that had happened to me in Vidaris. When I finally saw the familiar purple line of the highlands beyond Jarnby, my heart leaped in joy. The fens were a shade of green that I remembered best, as were the hummocks of the longhouses.
I saw my mam from far way, as she stood on the shore waving her shawl. She was usually so reserved and serene that I wept when I saw the tears streaming from the outer corners of her eyes.
I was one of the first to leap from the boat, forgetting even Lexander in my haste to reach my mam. Her arms enfolded me, but I was surprised to find I had grown while I was away, and now towered over her. But she smelled the same: of sinew and peat smoke and moss.
“I’m home, Mam,” I murmured brokenly.
“I never knew,” she whispered, her arms tight around me. “My own mam must have felt this way when I left her. I never knew it was this difficult or I would not have done it . . .”
My tears near blinded me as Lexander called to my da, and my master was openly smiling and proud of me. He tossed my bag over the side and lifted down a basket full of gifts for my family. “I’ll return five days hence. How is the passage through the strait?”
“Open to Helluland,” my da replied. “An early warming, praise be the gods.”
Lexander gestured down to his feet. “You notice I do not set foot on your land. But you would do well to not speak of our visit here.”
My da growled, startling me. “You’ll not find us blathering to those sons of death! We know how to protect our own.” With that he clasped a hand on my shoulder, telling me, “You’ve turned fair as a flower, my girl. I never thought it of ye.”
“Is there trouble?” I asked, finally looking around at my siblings, cousins, and aunts. They were a dirty, draggle haired lot, and I realized with a start that this was how Bjorn had viewed me when I first arrived at Vidaris. It was a wonder that Lexander had picked me out from amongst them.
“Aye, there’s enough heartache to spare,” my da agreed. But my mam ended the discussion by pulling me away from the longship, glancing back uneasily at Lexander. I waved to my master, but he was already ordering his
oarsmen to launch the ship.
In reality, I was unnerved by my return. I was back in my familiar home, every face and every sod-house worn like a groove in my mind. But they watched me with an eagerness I couldn’t understand. My kin kept touching me, stroking my cheeks and hands, which glowed with a vitality missing from their own wan, tired faces. I was used to thinking of home as a place where I belonged, but now that had changed.
I hardly recognized my brother with his gawky limbs and fuzz on his chin, teetering on the edge of manhood. He stayed far away, while my younger sister walked close beside me, stroking the embroidery on the edge of my cloak. I was glad Lexander had packed gifts for everyone. What I now regarded as an ordinary suede tunic and leggings, along with my spring cloak, were considered splendid by my kin. I knew that the other pretty clothes in my bag would never be worn here. Tonight I would sleep among my sisters on the mossy mound covering the ledge.
My da set the basket on the chopping block, and I dug into it. There were jars of exotic food—date preserves and spices from the southern lands, along with grains to make thick, nourishing porridges. Their excitement grew for we were in the lean season, and I remembered well the feeling of ribs hard beneath my skin. My mam and aunts opened and sniffed everything, while I distributed silk ribbons, hand mirrors, and clasps among my siblings and cousins.
“Where is Deidre?” I asked, holding up a green ribbon that would match her eyes. “This one is for her.”
The silence and downcast gazes told me there was a tragedy. The men looked ready to kill, their hands going to the axes on their belts. Even my brother seemed fierce and older than his years when he put his hand to his knife.
“What has happened?” I asked softly. Deidre had been one of my playmates when I was younger.
My mam hushed me and helped me take the last of the gifts from the basket to hand out. I knew better than to dwell on sadness while my family was creating a celebration to welcome me home.
The next day, before I went into the fens, I asked my brother about Deidre.
“She was killed,” my brother said shortly. “Killed by the men who follow that berserker Birgir Barfoot.”
“Birgir? He was here?” I asked, horrified.
“Aye, you must have heard of him. His warriors came, but they scorned our land. Some settled on the long lake south of here. They’ve taken women to be their wives, Skraeling and Noromenn both, but Deidre was killed because she fought them. Right there on the shore. We found her body, but the knaar was already out to sea. You should have seen our uncle. He was furious and claimed he would go to seek justice, but the word is they claim land with the blessing of our chieftain.”
My brother spat at the word, and I could not blame him. My own opinion of Ejegod was less than good, and I wondered not for the first time how Silveta had avoided Birgir’s bed through a full turn of seasons. Perhaps she had triumphed with her own bondi, fetched at the cost of Vidaris’ good name. But it was not my place to speak of what had happened in Tillfallvik. I was grateful that my own name had not been linked to the tale of the exile of Vidaris.
“Deidre was promised to Gorm,” my brother ventured. “I saw him watching when you arrived.”
I hadn’t noticed Gorm, a big blond man who was destined for the forge like my da. But I remembered him well. He was one of the boys I had innocently rutted with in the fens. I had enjoyed his simple lust and allowed him to take me anytime he followed me away from the village. But he had never spoken of it to anyone, and he left me without a word when we were done. That was how all the boys were, ashamed of dallying with a maid who was known to be half addled by the olfs.
“He might consider you for his wife,” my brother added. “Then you could stay here where you belong.”
Startled, I protested. “I belong to Lexander. I can’t marry Gorm.”
“But you’re here now,” my brother pointed out. “We could hide you when he returns. Vidaris can’t protest or they would risk the wrath of Ejegod. You don’t have to go away.”
“But ... I want to go.” It seemed as if I were being sucked under by sticky mud when I tried to imagine myself as Gorm’s wife.
“You made a mistake,” my brother insisted. “You belong here on the fens. I know how you are and how you must feel to lose everything you love.”
I was so accustomed to subservience that I almost agreed. But my heart knew better. I could no sooner return to Jarnby than I could return to being a babe in my mam’s arms. I shook my head wordlessly.
“Faraway eyes . . .” my brother murmured. That was how Lexander had described me the first day he met me. Then my brother went back to his work in the fields, the care of the sheep now given to our younger sibling.
I spent most of my days on the fens, as I always did. I could once again hear the olfs. Their voices had been silent for so long, and I had almost thought that part of my life was over. But now I heard their singing, drawing me from place to place, gleefully showing me a black pool where I could bathe or a dry hillock to nap on. I danced again in their praise, my feet hardly touching the ground. The olfs were the purest embodiment of the land, and their lure went deep in me.
It was during my time on the fens that I finally realized the olfs avoided Vidaris because of Helanas’ viciousness, which was powerful enough to keep all good things at bay. It was not a failure of mine that kept me from sensing the otherworldly creatures in Vidaris, but the presence of oppressive spirits smothering the land.
I also thought long on my kin in Jarnby, seeing all the more clearly now that I had gone away. There were too many children inside the narrow, cramped duns, and no privacy for contemplation or pleasure. Only hard work and more work to survive. After my mam’s first burst of emotion, she retreated to silent movement at her loom, forever spinning, weaving, and sewing to keep her brood in clothes. She was never one to tell me what she thought unless she was in the grip of a seeing. It seemed she already knew my future, one far away from her, and had accepted it as I did. My poor da drank himself into a stupor at night, until his great body lay snoring on the sleeping ledge. It was something I barely remembered from before, but now I felt a great sorrow for him and my mam, forced to labor so hard.
I missed Lexander desperately as the days passed. I felt adrift despite the love that poured from the olfs. It was only in part because Lexander had trained me so exquisitely to respond to his every mood. He had devoted himself to me over the winter, and I missed waking up beside him and feeling him touch me. Part of me wished I had sailed with him to the northern straits, past the great bergs and icy land. Everything here in Jarnby was constrained, as familiar as an old moldering sack. At times I broke out in song or chattered on about Vidaris until my family’s eyes glazed over with incomprehension, and I knew I no longer fit into their world.
So I was ready when the red-striped sail came into view. I ran to meet the longship in my haste to greet my master.
Lexander stood in the prow, exactly as I had seen him that first day. I smiled and waved to him. But when the boat reached the shore I noticed there was a woman close by him. She was Skraeling, with long dark hair and black eyes. She seemed defiantly proud, holding her head high, and was wearing sumptuous white furs.
“Marja! Come aboard quickly,” Lexander called. “We must catch the turning tide.”
I remembered to hug my mam and my da pulled on my braids that held my hair neatly. My brother scowled with his arms crossed defiantly, but I shook my head at him. I couldn’t stay. Indeed, the envy in my sister’s eyes reassured me.
But when I was lifted into the boat, my throat closed. The Skraeling was beautiful. Her expression was haughty, reminding me of Bjorn although she was as dark as he was fair. I covertly tried to brush away the mud of the fens that stained my leggings. I had forgotten until this moment that I had braided some wool into my hair, and her eyes were scornful as she stroked her own glossy hair that fell below her hips.
Lexander gestured to the young woman. “Marja, this is Q
amaniq, my new slave.”
Six
When we returned to Vidaris, everything was different. Not long after my visit home, I found myself kneeling in the fire hall watching Lexander teach the four new slaves the art of fotternoje. The two newest slaves, blond brothers from Fylkeran in Hop, were mesmerized. I don’t think any of us had ever eroticized feet until our master taught us how. The new Skraeling male, Torngasoak licked Helanas’ toes while Qamaniq bent her shapely body over Lexander.
Jealousy burned inside of me. I hated every moment that Lexander spent with Qamaniq and the other new slaves. It had ruined our increasingly complex rapport, so subtle that the others hadn’t noticed, but as challenging as the daily games of hneftaf I played with Lexander. But now it was gone, the constant interchange of feints and parries, and my ultimate release. Now he was busy and had no time for me.
He glanced up and knew exactly what I was thinking. There was no resentment on my face, only perfect obedience. But he knew nonetheless. We were so in tune with each other that I had only to stand before him for him to know how I felt.
I chastised myself for my own jealousy of Qamaniq. Had I learned nothing of acceptance at my master’s knee? I sank into myself again and again to find the peace in submission, only to have it vanish at her next coquettish laugh or when Lexander tenderly stroked her head. It was my most trying test to date and I sometimes raged at the fates that had made me fall in love with Lexander.
Qamaniq’s striking figure, made for passion, and her bold, expressive face were far more beautiful than I could ever be. I had an earthy presence, while Qamaniq was a goddess incarnate. Everyone watched her, lingering on the curve of her bosom and the poised tilt of her head. I wanted to be the Skraeling beauty so I could compel the same admiration I saw in Lexander’s eyes.
Suddenly Helanas pushed Torngasoak aside. “You encourage her infatuation!” She took two strides to grab me by the shoulders to shake me. “You will stop acting like a lovesick girl!”
