Chapter 18
Last autumn’s cured meat is tough, but I enjoy it all the same.
The chewy tendons soften as they blend with saliva, releasing a salty warmth that pairs perfectly with the hint of sweetness offered by the bland oat porridge.
It’s just us women eating together. The men are already out plowing the fields.
“Eat well, girls,” says Ausveig. “Today we scrub down the entire stabbur, the throne room, and the entire hall. But first we tend the gardens.”
“Ausveig wants to fatten us up for the oven,” says Sifrid. Most women release a snort of amusement, even Eidunn. Others laugh out loud. All the ladies stay focused on their eating, including me. I’m just grateful I haven’t been summoned to the jarl’s quarters to be accused of strawberry theft. Yet.
Ausveig reaches over my back to squeeze the young girl’s arm like one would a pig before slaughter.
“Just right,” laughs Ausveig. “This one will be tasty when smothered with thyme.”
“Blessed are we,” I say, “to have such a resourceful cook among us. Ausveig knows to use what she has available.”
“You,” replies the older woman, “will be smoked. The taste of birch will cover the flavor of insolence.”
I gape at her comment as all the girls snicker. I’m not truly offended—Ausveig is my friend now—but playing the victim always seems to amuse people. Besides, I’ve been insolent on several occasions. I’m not delusional enough to think otherwise.
“You offend my honor,” I announce. “I challenge you to Holmgang!”
More laughter from the group.
“A duel?” says Sifrid. “Ausveig will eat you alive.”
“With thyme, I hope,” I say. “To mask the taste of insolence.”
We are all smiling. There’s a light mood in the air. The sun shines. We’re eating meat. The men are out. How could the morning possibly get any better? Eidunn looks up at me, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“Ausveig would eat you alive, if Thyra doesn’t butcher you first.”
“Wow,” says one girl.
“Brutal, Eidunn,” says another.
Many laugh, me included. I have to. If I display any worry over treatment from Thyra, I’m afraid I will be the prime suspect in the strawberry theft. I brush it off.
“Make sure I’m slapped into a soup, Eidunn,” I reply with a grin. I’m happy she jokes with us. She has been somber since I arrived, weighed down by some secret. I’m sure of it.
“Oh yeah, I’ve seen how much you love those, Kilda,” she replies smiling. “How many bowls did you eat last nigh—”
The door swings open violently, slamming into the wall. Women are startled, turning to the sudden intrusion. My heart sinks.
Thyra enters, an avatar of rage. Red-faced. Her power amplified by her size. Even while fearing what’s coming, I can’t help but think of a Valkyrie, charging into battle. All the ladies stand, including me, as is expected from slaves when a noble enters. We stare down at the table submissively.
“Kilda, you thief,” she screams. “Where were you last night?”
I keep my eyes on the table, not wanting to challenge her position with eye contact. The worst possible outcome. That fucking skald. Bastard.
“My lady?” I respond.
“Answer me!”
“I was sleeping, resting for today’s scrubbing of the hall,” I lie.
“Liar!” she shouts. “It wasn’t enough stealing berries in front of my daughters? You needed to eat a quarter of our strawberry fields too?”
My skin crawls at the public accusation. It’s the last thing I need. The girls around me keep their eyes low. My voice rises in pitch.
“Strawberries, my lady? I don’t—”
“You are so comfortable lying,” she growls. “I wonder what else you lie about.”
She’s right, I find it too easy to lie. Asbjorn’s warning is already forgotten.
I raise my gaze to her face, making my eyes as innocent as possible.
A trick that works on men, but on Thyra, I doubt it will have the desired effect.
The woman is frothing at the mouth, red as the strawberries I am lying about.
“Lady Thyra, I—”
“Silence, you insolent little bitch,” she hisses, raising her finger. I lower my gaze again. Insolent really is the word of the day. “I’m starting to wonder about these curses you speak of, this inscription you’ve found.”
“Please, my lad—”
“Strange how it all began when you arrived.”
The strawberries, that’s fine. Her accusation is acceptable. She is right, after all, even if I deny it. But cursing the farm? How could she possibly be pointing the finger at me for that?
“Madness, why would I—”
“Silence!” she screams at the top of her lungs. Some of the girls flinch at the escalation in volume. “Know your place, girl! You sit at the thrall table. No other slave girl has ever been so disrespectful.”
“Forgive me, Lady Thy—”
“My father is busy now, but you can expect a summons during the day. I have my eye on you, you dishonorable runt.”
She storms out, slamming the door behind her. All the girls stand for a few seconds as Thyra’s stomping becomes distant.
I glance around me. The girls are looking at me wide-eyed. One blows out a stream of air. Tension loosens.
“Odin’s ass,” says Sifrid.
I feel Ausveig’s hand on my shoulder and turn to her. She has a comforting grin on her face. My fear of being hated and humiliated dissipates somewhat. My stomach unclenches ever so slightly.
“Well,” she says. “Eidunn was right. I won’t get to eat you alive, but maybe I can smoke you with birch after Thyra has butchered you.”
All the girls laugh nervously. Me included.
I may yet receive punishment. Lucky for me, it’s up to the jarl, not his daughter.
My hands are shaking, but I manage to calm myself somewhat with a couple of deep breaths.
What would Ari say? That dishonorable bastard. As if he’d stick out his neck for me.
We sit to finish our meal. Eidunn gives me a gentle smile. Thyra hates me, but around the thralls’ table, I have allies. I have friends.