The Escape #2
Rathnon gave Ilona the towel to drape around her, and he pulled her linen shift off over her head.
He had her sit down and gave her the water bag to drink from.
Rathnon pulled a towel around his hips, facing away from her, and tore off his tunic, leaving him bare-chested.
He drank from the water bag, and then he poured water over the hot stones, and steam hissed.
Rathnon handed the bag back to Ilona, indicating she should drink more water.
“This is a sauna, and it will clean your skin and keep you warm so you will not become ill. Our wedding is in two days. I want you to be well and enjoy our wedding festivities and our time together afterward as man and wife.” Rathnon felt the skin on her arm.
“If you get too hot, let me know and we will leave.”
“Ye still wish to wed me?” Ilona asked with luminous eyes brimming with unshed tears.
He seemed to understand her. “You will be my wife and I will be your husband,” Rathnon said, brooking nae arguments and saying “wife” and “husband” in Gaelic to help her understand his intentions. He leaned over her and tenderly kissed her lips.
Rathnon did nae show anger at me. He still wants to wed me. How is that possible? Most men would be enraged. Will he later show his anger and disappointment in me? Ilona was perplexed. Will others know I attempted to escape? Will they think less of me or of Rathnon?
Rathnon gave her more water to drink, then he drank more, and he put additional water on the stones, steam rising from them. Do they use this sauna all year round? Do men and women typically use it together? The heat permeated every inch of space, and it made her feel sleepy.
Ilona had nae slept well and had awakened very early. After half an hour, Rathnon stood up and pointed to the door, indicating they should leave. He gathered their clothes and wrapped them together in a heavy wool blanket, and they walked back to the longhouse.
Inside the house, only a few women worked, and they seemed unaware she had attempted to flee. The villagers smiled at Ilona and Rathnon together, wrapped in towels as if it were an everyday occurrence.
Rathnon laid down blankets and furs for Ilona to sleep. He hung her shift on the wall, then left to hang up their wet and sandy clothes outside, while it still rained. The rain would wash away the sand.
Dressed in a dry tunic, Rathnon returned to the longhouse after towel-drying his hair.
Inside he got warm bread, tender pieces of meat, and tea for Ilona and him.
He sat on the floor next to her and fed her slowly.
They drank the tea, and he smiled at her.
Rathnon returned the dishes to the kitchen and then sat behind Ilona, unbraiding her hair.
He used the towel to dry her hair and then used his comb to detangle it.
Rathnon pointed for her to lie down next to him.
“Sove.” (“Sleep.”) She laid down and Rathnon laid next to her and pulled her up on his chest, wrapping an arm around her.
Warmed up, with a full tummy, and resting on Rathnon’s chest, she succumbed to sleep.
He let go of his worries about Ilona, content with her in his arms where she belonged and his success at thwarting her plan to escape. But will she try again?
Wanting to protect Ilona meant keeping her safe, even from herself. With only a two days until they would wed, Rathnon focused on keeping Ilona with him. He couldn’t bear to lose her. His life would be meaningless without her, for his heart was no longer his. Rathnon’s heart belonged to Ilona.
Having slept deeply for several hours, they awakened feeling refreshed.
Ilona was shy and blushed since she was wrapped in a towel under the heavy blanket, with Rathnon clad only in a tunic.
He kissed her lips softly and smiled at her.
Has he forgiven me for trying to leave? Has he read the letter I wrote him?
Rathnon left, giving Ilona privacy to get dressed while he fully dressed. The rain had stopped for now. When he returned, Ilona had dressed and rebraided her hair.
“Come with me.” Rathnon held out his hand to her and led her to the carpentry shop.
He introduced Ilona to Ivar, the head carpenter.
“Ye can learn to use any of the tools under the carpenter’s supervision.
It is best to start small and then take on bigger projects.
” Sigrid had joined them and acted as interpreter again.
“Ye can carve designs or make furniture. It depends on the type of wood ye use, and how intricate or complicated the design ye want to use. Would ye like to start a project today?”
“Aye, takk. I’d like to carve a design on wood,” Sigrid translated to the carpenter for Ilona.
Ivar nodded and beamed at her. He used his hands to identify the size she wanted to carve, and he picked out a piece of wood for her to use.
He had her sit down and showed her how to use various tools for desired effects.
He had her use the tools and corrected how she held the instruments. Ilona shaved off the blunt ends of the wood, making it curved in an oval shape, then sanded the wood until it had a smooth finish. Sigrid returned to the longhouse. Rathnon worked with other tools and fashioned beautiful wood.
Positioned to observe Ilona’s work, he intended to keep her occupied and distracted. So she would not think about leaving again in the next two days.
Ilona enjoyed working with her hands and would relish creating artful designs in wood, clay, or metal over the winter months.
Next, Ivar showed her how to cut designs into the wood with smaller, more precise tools: chisels.
With expert technique, Ivar demonstrated multi-dimensional effects in carving.
He made it look easy. Ivar handed Ilona a practice piece of wood to try out the design first. Ilona worked on her design, and he knew immediately what she wanted to create.
He showed her an advanced craftsmanship skill as she progressed.
Ilona’s face lit up when she successfully imitated his artistry.
When she and Rathnon left, and she tucked her finished piece in her pocket. Rathnon would return to finish his work at a later date. They thanked Ivar and went back outside.
The sky remained overcast. Rathnon took her into another building, where a potter created ceramic pieces.
Finished pieces lined one shelf. Ilona inspected every item, appreciating the artistry, colors, and designs of each piece.
The potter named Rune demonstrated his technique on a potter’s wheel.
Rune spun the wheel expertly, using his feet while applying the right amount of pressure to create a lovely bowl.
He asked Ilona and Rathnon their favorite colors.
Ilona pointed to a light blue and to another item in green.
They thanked Rune, and Rathnon took her to the forge.
Ilona gazed intently as the blacksmith stuck iron into the flaming fire and then, with tongs, placed it on the anvil and pounded it into the shape of a sword.
The hot metal hissed as he dunked it into a bucket of water, reheated the item, and pounded more.
Rathnon explained using his fingers how many days it took to make one sword.
The blacksmith named Bj?rn was a huge man.
Wider and taller than Rathnon, and the muscles in his arms bulged and flexed as he hammered.
Bj?rn made jewelry in his free time. He asked Rathnon about Ilona’s favorite flower, plant, or bird, but Rathnon said, “I do not know how to ask her this question yet. I will return and tell you when I know.”
After an hour, they left and returned to the longhouse. Ilona wondered if they kent she had tried to escape or if they were too shy to ask out of respect for Rathnon.
When Sigrid joined them at the table, Rathnon asked, “Will ye ask Ilona what her favorite thing in nature is? Is it an animal, a plant, or a special flower? I wish to surprise her and have Bj?rn make her a silver pin.”
Sigrid asked Ilona. “Bj?rn wanted to ken what yer favorite symbol is to wear. Do ye like birds, flowers, plants, trees, or an animal the best?”
Ilona gazed intently at Rathnon and said, “Fenir, Ulf, I like the best. After that, I like flowers.”
Rathnon laughed heartily, not expecting her to remember what he had teased her about at the loch when they had gone swimming.
Ilona enjoyed hearing his lighthearted laugh, and warmth swallowed her heart at the sound of it. She asked about how people used the sauna, and Sigrid explained. Rathnon spoke to Sigrid again. “What would she like to do tomorrow?”
“I want to make baskets tomorrow.”
“That is what we will do, lass.”
After dinner, while the women readied for bed and readied their children, Ilona gathered the children near the firepit.
In her limited Norwegian with Sigrid’s help, she told them a fairy tale her mother had recited to her when she was a young bairn.
The children were spell-bound. Ilona promised them another story if they minded their mothers and went to bed without complaint.
The children scrambled to comply, and the women smiled at her and said, “Takk.”
The parents appreciated having a few moments to themselves in their busy days. It was a quiet time of whispers and confidences shared. Ilona had only ever had her parents and her grandparents, so she envied the villagers’ uninhibited laughter and sense of belonging and family.
The women accepted her more each day. The younger lasses engaged her in conversations, but they were limited because of their inability to understand each other’s language. When the lassies taught her an unfamiliar word in Norwegian, she taught them the word in Gaelic.
Ilona fell asleep before Rathnon laid beside her. He held her tightly to him, appreciating everything about Ilona: her kindness, soft body, beauty, and enticing fragrance of heather.