I am then patted on the shoulder by Noma, and she drags me out of my own thoughts about what I want and who I am now.
She smiles warmly at me saying, “You have made the right choice, Ellie. I am glad you have turned him down. I know my son is not dead. I can feel it. We share a bond here.” She pats over her heart as she speaks about the bond her and Frey share.
I look to her giving her a half smile, and I say, not wanting to talk about marriage any longer or about Frey, since I don’t want to tell her I am probably going to turn him down too, “Yes, I brought back some food. Now let’s eat. I am hungry.”
She travels back to her seat, and as I prepare the food, I start to consider. I was seduced by their pagan ways of life and am falling off the path of God.
Is God even still here with me? No, I don’t think he is anymore.
Even God is disgusted with me for being so cozy with pagans who believe in other Gods, but Thor is real...I hear him when the skies are cloudy, and so is Loki, Odin, Freyr, and so many others I have been taught about.
I watch the smoke rise up as I consider all these thoughts at once. I believe in my God...but also theirs, and I love Noma and her people, but I also love my family in England.
Who am I and what have I become?
I know, I can tell you.
A foolish traitor to my people and to my God.
These people have tainted me...but most of all, I have corrupted myself.
Chapter 13
Broken Shackles
4 years ago
June 24th, 996 AD
I sit in the wooden bathtub with the warm water surrounding me. Noma is kind enough to take the time to heat the water using the fire. She takes a washcloth and runs it down my back, the warm water trickling down my skin.
“So, you’re a woman now,” Noma says while washing my back.
“Yeah...” I mutter, looking down at the water as I have my head resting on my knees that are drawn towards my chest.
“Frey tells me you’re worried that he will force you to marry him now that you’re a woman,” she says before reaching around and washing at my neck which was dirty from being outside.
I pull away slightly, my neck ticklish, and I don’t reply to her, thinking back to earlier that day and how I yelled at Frey and basically how I have had a breakdown.
She laughs at me saying, “I take that as a yes...Don’t worry, I won’t let him marry you unless you’re ready, though do not wait forever for marriage. I waited too long, and I only had two children with Arvid. I’m lucky they were both two healthy baby boys. I wish I could have another.”
I feel less pressured at her words about the marriage between Frey and I. And I then ask her, “Why do you have so many girl’s clothing here then? You don’t have a daughter...or did you?”
She laughs at me before she replies. “I thought for sure Leif was going to be a girl while he was still in my belly, so I got excited and during my entire pregnancy I made clothing for a little girl. I always wanted one....”
“Oh...I see,” I say, and she puts down the washcloth before taking a comb to my wet and already washed hair.
She tugs gently at the snarls and works them out before she mentions out of nowhere, “I did have a child with another man once...Though it was not willingly. It was when I was a slave. That is why I won’t let Frey touch you until you think you’re ready.”
I listen to her words, and I ask, feeling a little stunned with her being so straightforward with me and about having a child out of wedlock, “Where is your child now?”
“I don’t know,” she replies solemnly, her voice quiet. “I left him behind when he was only a young boy when I fled from my master...I couldn’t look at him. He looked like his father and smelled like his father, and he was deformed...I couldn’t bring him with me, and he was too close to that man.”
“Deformed?” I question almost hesitantly.
“Yes,” she replies. “His lip…when he was born...Something went wrong with his lip. It was pulled up, or perhaps it had never formed properly when he was in my belly.”
I get silent, and so does she, and she then stands up before she says after she finishes combing my hair, “Well, do not tell Arvid or my boys about this. They do not know.” She chuckles, and she says, “Arvid still thinks I was a virgin on our wedding night.”
I nod my head as I turn to look at her, and she says before taking her leave, “Do not stay in the bath too long or you might catch a cold...And do not forget to use the rag I gave you when dressing for bed. Bleeding gets messy...Good night Ellie.”
“Good night, Noma,” I say to her, thinking about her story she had shared so openly with me when even her husband or her sons did not even know about her secrets. I felt even closer to her than I had before.
Was I the only one who knew of her secret?
Present
December 15th, 1000 AD
I ring out my hair over the bathtub, and I have long since dressed in my clothing for the day. The morning is quiet, and I keep thinking back to Bard’s proposal, and how he mentioned I could have had the chance to go back to England, but I also think of how he once treated me.
I pick up the comb, running it through my hair quickly after getting out the remaining water it retains and back into the dirty bath water.
It was the correct thing to do, right?
I mean, I was born and raised in England, and I was kidnapped by Frey forcefully. How can I consider staying here? Yet I don’t see Noma as evil and the villagers too. They are just like normal people with a different set of values and religion.
If I were to go back to England now, I fear I would not be accepted. They would strip me of the things I earned, and I would be back to knitting, learning manners, and preparing to marry a complete stranger from another kingdom.
I would be practically sold...here I have freedom. I can choose.
Women here can even divorce if they are mistreated or lose their love for their husband... I never heard of such a thing as I was told from day one that I would be with the man father thought was good for me to marry. I was also told as a child that my marriage would benefit my kingdom and people, and not only that, my future husband would be the only man I would ever lie with.
I sigh heavily. I at least have to think about getting Margaret and my people freed from their status as slaves and get them back to England somehow. Perhaps on the next raid as I was no longer just a woman but a shield maiden with status.
Today was the same as any day.
I would start my day off by bathing if needed, then take care of the farm animals in the barn. Noma would cook breakfast, and sometimes we would get lucky and have eggs from the hen. And seeing as there were no men around, Noma and I took turns chopping firewood.
Then I was free for the rest of the day, and I would either go to the mead hall, or everyone would gather in Noma’s home to drink and talk with one another. In those cases where everyone gathered in Noma’s home, I usually went out to hunt or ice fish or practice my swordsmanship or shooting with my bow.
I come out of the room with the bath, and I already see Noma cooking the eggs I collected yesterday for today’s breakfast. The smell makes my stomach growl, and she says, “Up already? Are you getting an early start?”
“Yes,” I reply. “I have a busy schedule to see to today.”
“And that is?” she questions me.
I am quiet for a moment as she scoops out the finished scrambled eggs from the pan and places them into a bowl with a wooden spoon with some creature’s head carved on the handle. It appears to be a wolf, probably Fenrir that I have heard so much about.
“I’m going to go ice fishing today for some more fresh food like yesterday,” I reply to her sitting on the bench by the fire with my food, my hair still wet, causing my shoulders to also become damp.
She frowns for a moment as she also prepares a bowl of scrambled eggs for herself to finish off what was left in the pan.
“It�
��s cold,” she says with worry in her tone. “Even colder than yesterday. You are human, Ellie. You are not like us who can withstand hours of being in the cold. I think sometimes you forget these things.”
I frown, taking a bite of my food, and I say after chewing and swallowing, “I will be fine. I was okay yesterday.”
She sits across from me, and she says, “I will go with you then.”
“You can’t. You need to be here in case there is an attack, or something is wrong, or you’re needed. Your people need you here nearly at all times,” I state.
She frowns and glares before looking away, and she clicks her tongue, muttering, “Damn Arvid. Leaving me here alone. He is going to hear an earful when he gets home. He doesn’t know how stressful it has been these last four years. Disputes about land, stealing, murdering, rape, food, supplies, and so on. It is not easy running a village alone...”
I have been here when there are disputes about such things. A big crowd gathers inside the house, and they talk as she sits on top of what I like to call her throne with an annoyed or serious face depending on the problem the villagers are facing.
I remember one was a problem with a young teenage boy going around shifting and causing mayhem, killing one of the farmer’s livestock last year. She tried to find the boy through scent, but he was sneaky and used things that would mask his scent from Noma’s sharp nose, which only angered her further.
There were also the scary berserkers who lived like true barbarians in the woods and were closer to their wolves than the people in the village. There was a problem with one of them trying to murder a young warrior here because he had trespassed on his “territory” and Noma had to deal with that by scaring the berserkers back where he belonged.
There are also much more serious problems she has to face and give the right answers to because if she doesn’t, she will be in trouble.
It put a lot of stress on her and not only that, she is trying to maintain the upkeep of the home and barn animals to which I find myself working hard to take just that little amount of stress off of her, but there are times when I’m not here.
Bard has also been riling up the villagers, saying Frey and the rest are all dead, and the Saxons have taken back their lands. This leads to her having more weight placed upon her with concerned villagers gathering inside the house and bickering with her with the idea of “What if they are all dead? We just lost more than half of our best warriors. What will we do now if we got attacked?!”
But that was our day yesterday, not today.
She had to convince them that they were alive and well and should be back soon. But Bard could be right in a sense. There is always a chance the worst has happened, and they could have got slaughtered somehow despite the fact they were monstrous wolves. Were there other things in this world like them...something worse and beastly?
The scary thought passes through my mind, but it is long forgotten as I am brought back to the current, and I finish the last bite of my breakfast, setting the empty bowl down beside me.
Noma’s eyes settle on me, and she asks, not looking very happy, “You’re still going out?”
I nod my head, standing up, and I wander off to collect my cloak I had hung up before bed to dry. Just as I put on the cloak, I feel a tug to a strand of my hair and Noma is behind me once more, her steps quiet.
She lectures, “You’re not going out with wet hair. At least let it dry. That’s a good way to get chilled very quickly.”
I sigh, and she lets go before she says, “Sit down. Let me braid your hair and get it out of your way. You can’t work with all this hair in your face.”
I listen to her, going back to sit on the bench, and she starts to slowly braid my hair, tugging strands gently as she does so.
During this time I relax and am reminded of when my own mother used to sit me down and brush and do my hair for the day. I miss that feeling of being a stubborn young girl impatiently waiting for her hair to be done.
Now I would kill to relive a moment like that again.
She was right, it is colder than it was yesterday. My body trembles slightly as a powerful gust of wind rips right through my clothing. I am done with my current chores, having taken care of the barn animals and chopped the firewood for Noma.
Then right after I decided to continue with my journey of “ice fishing,” though that really isn’t my goal. I want to speak to Margaret and her master. I will convince him to set her free somehow. I had money I have collected over the years.
With money, you can do just about anything in this world. I’m sure the man will bite at such an offer for a lowly slave.
I grip the reigns as I force my horse to go forward into the village, and I grow closer to my destination.
Just in case things went badly, I have the sword Frey had given me on my back. I knew how Margaret’s master wasn’t kind, the littlest of things setting him off, so he could take this the wrong way and try to attack me. Somehow, I had snuck the sword past Noma’s watchful eye.
I then stare at the house with impending dread, and I force my horse to stop in her path. I dismount slowly and carefully, the snow crunching underneath my boots, and I guide my horse forward by the reigns before tying her to the wooden fence, just for what I hope will be a brief conversation.
“I will be back, I promise,” I mutter to my horse quietly, rubbing her side before turning around and facing the house.
I walk forward, my head held up high, and I do my best to think confidently. I get to the door and before I can knock it is opened swiftly.
My eyes widen slightly, and the man who is Margaret’s master is staring back at me meanly, his eyes narrowing down at me. “What do you want?” he hisses before he says, “I smelled your disgusting scent before you even made it to my doorstep. You English smell worse than any pig.”
I glare at him, ignoring his words, and I say, trying my best to ignore his comment about my smell, “I come to make you an offer about your slave.”
“My slave?” he questions. “What about her?”
“I want to buy her from you,” I reply.
The skinny man scoffs before he grins while stroking his long beard. “You want to buy her from me? Is it because she is your little English friend?”
“The reason doesn’t matter,” I say, the anger seemingly making the chill from my body vanish, or maybe I forgot about the cold I was suffering from. I then hold up the bag full of coins, taking it from within my cloak. “I am willing to pay this much for her.”
He stares at the bag full of coins with greedy eyes for a moment before he steps away from his door and he says, making me back up from him, staring sternly at me, “You don’t belong here, girl. You shouldn’t have earned that status you have. You’re adored by our current chieftain’s son when you’re nothing better than an English whore just like the slave I have inside.”
He is quiet before he spits out, “You should not bear that mark on your neck so proudly...People like you piss me off. It should have been my daughter who bore that mark upon her neck, not you!”
He snatches the bag full of silver coins from my grasp, and he says lowly after finishing his rant, “But you can have the slave. She is not worth keeping over this amount of silver, but you and I aren’t friends because of it.”
He glares at me, but I stand still, keeping my ground and he wanders back. I mutter quietly, “We would never be friends, anyway...”
“What?” he barks out.
“Nothing, I want the slave now. I gave you the silver for her,” I state.
“Yeah. Yeah,” he says, spitting on the ground before going inside, and he yells at the top of his lungs, “Girl, come here!”
Moments pass, and he screams louder, “Girl!”
After that, I hear the scrambling of feet, and I see Margaret looking at the skinny man fearfully as she mutters with uncertainty, “Yes?” Her eyes glance to me quickly before the man again.
He then says, “This woman here has bought your
freedom. Get out of here. I finally got something worthwhile from buying you.” He then gives her a harsh shove out the door and slams it shut.
She appears shocked, and she looks back towards the door again before at me, and she asks me clearly shaken, “You bought my freedom...?”
I nod my head, smiling slightly, and I reply, “Yes.”
“What for?” she questions. “I don’t have anywhere to go...this is my only home and warm place to sleep.” She clearly panics, her face whiter than any ghost.
“You can come stay with Noma and I until I can get you and the others back to England,” I say, quietly approaching her and going to grab her to guide her back to my horse.
She stares at me before she hisses, “You want to go back to England...now!? After all this time...Are you insane? They would never accept us. I have been sullied by a Northman, and you seem to have taken to their way of life, Ellie.”
“Margaret...” I mutter, sympathy in my voice after hearing that she has been defiled by one of the Northmen here, probably the one inside.
She glares, and she hisses, tears in her eyes, “You haven’t been touched by one of these men because you are a free woman. You have been accepted by them...I will never be accepted! You know you have always been lucky! You were a princess before, and now you’re a warrior here...I have always been nothing here...and when we were children.”
She continues with her rant, and she says, “And now you want me to go with you to the woman in charge of these filthy pagans and live with her?! I would rather die. I would rather—”
Before she continues any further, I grab her arm, forcing her away from the man’s door, and I say, trying to keep my emotions out of this, “Stop it. Don’t you want a chance at a better life at least? You can start anew in England. They don’t need to know you have laid with a Northman. Lie to them.”
Wolves Among Danes Page 12
