Chapter 14
RASHA
“We all saw it. I’ve talked to the women who read their runes in any form of divination last night, and a reindeer was present in each of their readings,” Joanna shares.
We are having breakfast together in their longhouse.
Many woke up early, like I did, itching to get out of our beds and busy our worried minds with a task.
“We cannot get ahead of ourselves. It is going to snow, and we must take part in the Wild Hunt. The gods must be watching for all the women to have similar readings,” I answer.
Gathering empty bowls and cups to put in a wash basin gives me a moment to weigh what it means that our runes were all similar.
“Ingrid and Katrine never came back last night,” Enora says, coming out of the longhouse to where we set up tables to finish sewing our dresses for the Wild Hunt.
“Does Ingrid stay out all night? Katrine maybe.” I look to Enora and find nothing but worry across her rosy cheekbones.
“Katrine stayed dancing with Bjorn because we wanted to give you a chance to slip away,” Joanna admits, the edge of frustration on her tongue.
“I appreciate everything you’ve both done for me.” I take her cup and fill it with hot tea, passing her the warm mug carved from a solid piece of wood. Bjorn does not treat women kindly. I let Katrine put herself in harm’s way by going to bed instead of staying till the last fire died.
“Ingrid has already taken a beating from her father, so it is not like her to spend all night in a man’s bed. She knows her father will throw her out of the clan,” Enora says.
“Don’t accuse anyone of anything until we have proof that something happened. For all we know, both women will traipse back here with marriage proposals by noon.” Joanna tries her best to lighten the mood, but Enora doesn’t budge. I don’t blame her.
“Are you thinking about Shaw?” Joanna changes the subject with a little, mischievous grin.
“No, I was thinking of looking for our friends.”
“Maybe when you go back to the stronghold you can ask around? Did you and the blacksmith exchange more than glances last night?” Enora’s tune quickly changes.
“We haven’t kissed,” I confess, and all the women look at me, their mouths slightly parted as if I am withholding the truth.
I should be looking for Ingrid and Katrine instead of gossiping about my feelings.
Enora and Joanna lay out the dresses on the tables, securing needles and pins where the next rows of stitches need to be placed.
“But you want to.” A younger girl who wasn’t at the feast giggles, and a smile breeches my cheeks. Yes, yes I do want to kiss him.
“He has many talents, that’s all.” I try to make it sound less romantic, which makes them laugh more.
“No one will blame you, but Harald will kill him, so make a wise choice,” Enora says from across the table where she adds white fox fur to the trim of her dress. We will all be hidden behind animal masks, which are being decorated at the next table.
“Rasha, I wanted to ask you something?” Joanna whispers, laying out her dress next to mine. Katrine did the embroidery on both our dresses because I have no sewing capabilities. The front bodices are open, and for the Hunt, we will tie them loosely, so if we are caught, the hunter has access.
“That sounds ominous, but go on.” I find a collection of dull needles and start sharpening them on a whet stone. Keeping tools sharp is more my forte.
“Would you be angry with me if I slept with Jorvik?” she asks, and I pause to look at my best friend with the thin needle between my fingers.
“No, but is that what you really want?” I ask.
Avoiding my gaze, Joanna looks down at the long loop of green and red thread she’s rolling out to have enough for the bottom section of her dress.
“He’s my brother, and I would love nothing more than for us to be family in blood. But I know how he can be.”
“I don’t have anyone else who can protect me besides Jorvik,” she admits.
“Oh, Joanna.” I stop sharpening needles and wrap my arms around her neck. “You have me. I’d place a wager on Shaw stepping up if I asked.”
“I’m sure you would fight till the death to keep me and all the women safe, but you need to live and be happy too. That’s why I wanted your blessing for me to be with Jorvik during the Hunt. Maybe we can move on from this Yule with less bloodshed,” she murmurs against my cheek, and I nod.
“Of course, you’ll always have my support.”
“Thank you.” She squeezes my forearm. Her hand takes mine, and the bracelet falls down my wrist.
“Who gave this to you?” Her brown eyes narrow on the glinting silver and gold.
“He did,” I point to Shaw walking up the field to greet us. Joanna drops my hand in honest surprise and buries her head in the rest of her embroidery.
“Good morning, care for a walk?” Shaw asks, and I hear soft giggles from the women coming in and out of the longhouse.
“Let’s go before they enact their own ritual on us.” I throw my most motherly scowl back at the group and leave with Shaw.
“I haven’t been around such a large group of Viking women in a long time. Are they always rooting for a Maiden to be swept off her feet?”
“Is that what you think you’re doing?” I question his boldness, and the first smile of the day breaks across his face, which I hate that I am about to change. “Apparently, all the women’s runes depicted reindeer at one point last night.”
“Are they sure?” Shaw’s tone clips.
“Yes,” I say on his heels as we hurry through the back end of the village.
Shaw glances over at me. “Sometimes we see what we want to see.”
“That’s not how the Seidr works.” I am quick to defend the women, even though I am not sure what the runes mean.
“Think, Rasha. Maybe they saw the reindeer because they are counting on you to find the bow and save them from a life of servitude to Harald.”
“Skadi taught Vikings how to hunt. We only see her depicted with reindeer and her bow. Doesn’t that mean she didn’t have a family or a partner?
I always thought it meant we could survive like the ancients did, living side by side with the reindeer herd and the seasons.
” I am talking more to myself than Shaw, raising my face to his and waiting for him to dash all my thoughts like my brother would.
“Maybe Skadi isn’t the only god at play here.” He keeps our conversation open to possibilities. I am ready to ask another question, but by the way his brow furrows, I am not sure what he’s thinking.
“So where do you think Bjorn hides out during the day?” I change the topic.
“First, you need to cover that gorgeous hair of yours.” The compliment gets a rise in me as Shaw ducks in between the wooden houses and huts and takes a short, deep brown cloak from a line hanging in between the windows.
“We will return it later,” he says when I raise my eyebrows at his thievery. “Bjorn has a room in the stronghold. I found out late last night when I joined the men for a drink.”
“How are they feeling about Harald?”
Shaw shrugs, coming around the side where huge snow drifts have collected against the houses.
“They fear the King, and they question whether Harald can really keep him placated.”
The idea of the King is so foreign to me that I have put the threat of another man coming to take from our land at the bottom of my long list of worries. As Shaw and I draw closer to the stronghold, I pull the hood over my hair and pray that we aren’t caught.
“You are assuming he’s not in his room?” My voice is a gargled hush. We wait for two men to wheel a wagon, carrying tapestries that will hang on the partitions for the Hunt, into the courtyard, and walk easily next to them.
“He’s in the tavern with the men,” Shaw explains, and I stay flush to his side so we look like one big group.
“How do you know?”
“Because we passed them when you were trying to work out the reindeer and the runes.”
“Oh.” feeling foolish, I try to remember the path we took to get here.
“Do you know what Harald does during the day?” Shaw asks as we walk through the dark hallways that outline the stronghold.
“He naps when he isn’t mucking up every ritual and stomping around like an insolent child.”
Shaw laughs at my description and takes my hand as we walk deeper into the dark hallway. At the end is a staircase and hallway that mirror where my room is on the other side. I assume Harald is the last room which takes up the shorter back wall over the Feast Hall.
“What if he keeps the map on his person?” I ask, tugging on Shaw’s hand for no reason other than knowing this is a bad idea.
“One problem at a time.” Shaw moves down the second level hallway, and sure enough, there are two doors to two bedrooms. Taking out a roll of leather from the inside of his vest, he lays it on the floor, then finds skinny tools and sizes them against the lock.
“Is this how you broke into my room?”
“I made the locks, so yes. Does that alarm or excite you?”
It excites me, but this is not the time to feel warmth between my legs. Meanwhile, Shaw kneels at the lock, putting his head at the level of my thighs. After a few short taps and the sound of the gear grinding, the lock pops, and we give the door an easy push to open it.
This room might not be Bjorn’s, but it is certainly a man’s room. Clothes are everywhere, as well as weapons and half drunk cups of ale. A woman’s under things are scrunched up on the bed, and the sheets are twisted in a used way.
“Rasha?” I hear my name croak from a weak voice, and I freeze. My eyes refuse to register what I see while blood drains from my face.
On the other side of the room, Katrine and Ingrid are chained to the corner post. The post is flush with the wall and connected to the roof, so they would never be able to get out on their own.
“Katrine, who did this to you?” I muster every available ounce of courage to walk across the room without disturbing anything. Shaw turns to the wall to give us a moment of privacy.