Chapter Nine #2
“’Tis a possibility,” Brynhild confirmed. “’Twill depend on several factors, I imagine.”
“Ja,” I murmured, looking to the south. “This stronghold is positioned well for a swift journey past the Hebrides and advantageous approach from the north to the western shores of Scotland.”
“’Tis,” Brynhild concurred, her voice gentler than it had been moments before, without doubt because I wore my troubled emotions on my face, but my soul stirred in warning at this news.
If the crack in my boat was not alarming enough, Soren wasn’t just renowned for his battle skills, but also for ships built to withstand any storm, making him and his tribe a good choice to call upon.
Now, having seen them and knowing their overseer and builder firsthand, I agreed.
Yet some weather was sent by the gods, and some ships were meant to sink, no matter how well built. I could only pray they were not our ships and my husband was not at the helm.
“And what word of the Norse still in Scotland?” I asked. “Those like my sister sent to garner good relations and mayhap make an advantageous marriage to keep things amicable betwixt the people.”
“I have heard nothing of them.” She looked at me with the tenderness a mother might. “Yet if I do, I will tell you straight away, even though I’m sure Soren will before it even reaches my ears.”
“Despite not telling me any of this to begin with,” I murmured. “No, I’m not sure he will.”
“If you ask, ja, he will,” she said. “If you have learned anything else since arriving, ’tis surely how much he cares about you. How much he longs for you to find peace and happiness by his side.”
Our conversation ended after that because Brynhild was called away, leaving me to my own thoughts, and every one of them only saw an unpredictable future on mine and Soren’s horizon.
A fate that was indeed full of change, leading to fear not just for my new husband but also for my sister in Scotland.
So I was grateful for the distraction when I came upon warriors practicing their skills in the large clearing outside the main lodge. Slick with mud from rain the night before, the ground was more challenging for fighting, much to my pleasure, even if I could only observe for now.
Assessing the men and women alike who fought in individual battles, I could admit to being impressed if not envious, and it seemed Soren saw that as he joined me.
“Would you like to practice as well, shield-maiden?” he wondered, yet again surprising me, considering my father would have forbidden it, and I said so. While tempted for a moment not to, I had come to respect Soren a great deal, and I would not have him break his word.
“My word was to accept your shield and blade and not let you travel to distant lands and battle.” The corner of his mouth inched up, and he seemed to dare me.
“Nothing was said about you fighting here within this tribe.” He shrugged.
“Besides, as a warrior in your own right who might someday need to protect your people, I would see you practice regularly.”
My heart leapt with excitement at the thought of wielding a blade against someone again after all these years. “Yet, I’m not dressed properly, nor do I have my shield and blade in hand.”
“Then go get them,” he urged. “You know where the weapons I gifted you are, and if you look in the trunk toward the back of our lodge, you might find clothing that suits you.”
When I cocked my head and offered a questioning smile, wondering if he was serious, he met my smile and gestured that I hurry along and return so that our people might see what I was capable of.
“It’s been years since Father allowed me to fight,” I warned. “Do you truly want to risk my breaking their belief that I’m so fierce in battle?”
“Nay,” he said, growing serious, clearly confident in my abilities. “I want to remind them just how fierce you are. That your Helvig Viking ancestors are very much alive in you, so go, wife, and return swiftly.”
Bolstered by his faith in me, I headed for our lodge, not for the first time, feeling a sense of well-being upon entering that I had never felt elsewhere. A sense of finally finding my own home, often hoping Soren might be here when I dropped in through the day after going our separate ways.
In the evenings, we would sit together in front of the fire, enjoy an ale or two, and share our day.
Then, we would often share more than that, as we covered all the years we had missed in between.
While life had grown dull after I could no longer battle, I often spoke of those short years beforehand, and he was as enraptured by my retellings as I was by his.
We might be among the last of our kind in this ever-changing Norway, but we had both fought well and were part of something that made us proud.
Sometimes we laughed, and at other times grew serious, but we always went to bed in good spirits.
He kept his word, never touching me unless I allowed it.
And thus far, that had only been his hand in mine.
One morn, I woke to find his big, strong body curled around me, his front to my back, keeping me warm, and I liked it more than I admitted.
He never took it further, though, and we rose together to watch the sunrise.
“’Tis perfect,” I murmured upon opening the trunk toward the back of our lodge, grinning at several pairs of trousers suited to my size. It had been too long since I wore such, and I was beyond grateful when I put them on, followed by one of a few tunics.
After braiding my hair back more securely and shouldering into my white bear fur, I grabbed my new shield and blade, yet again pleased by them, and returned to Soren’s side.
Standing tall, I felt more like myself than I had in a while, pleased by the murmurs of awe rippling through my new people at my appearance.
It better portrayed who I was at heart and the tales they had heard of me.
Rather than sit in the chair designated for him, Soren seemed to prefer standing with his arms crossed over his chest, assessing his warriors as they battled. He often called out moves that could use improvement and those he was pleased with.
“’Tis a good method of training,” I said at one point, watching the fighting just as closely. “Giving them the good with the bad to keep their confidence up.”
“As do you, it seems,” he said, amused when he glanced at me. “Or mayhap you don’t hear yourself, wife? For you seem to mutter under your breath all the same things I see and say.”
“Do I?” I asked innocently, grinning because I suspected I did without even realizing it.
“Ja, and so I would ask something of you.”
Curious at the challenging look in his gaze, I perked an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”
As it happened, his response more than surprised me.