Chapter 42
Laughter shakes the walls, followed by giggles and chatter.
Good humor fills my new house. A brilliant idea.
My thrall friends are sitting or lying about, enjoying cups of ale and the softness of furs beneath them.
Eidunn cooked another magical stew. Our ale is flavored with meadowsweet.
Good food and drink have cast some mystical spell over the girls, making them boisterous and rowdy. At least a dozen bodies fill the space.
Repressing a chuckle of my own, I raise my hands for attention. One last line is needed to complete my raunchy story.
“And so, as he was walking out her door, still pulling up his pants, she smacked him on the ass and said, ‘Now leave my sheep alone!’”
An explosion of laughter. Drying of tears.
They gasp for breath. Perhaps we are a little drunk, but I’m sure Sigurd will forgive his new Volva.
These girls work hard. They are loyal. A night of release will only boost their morale.
Besides, I need to drown the tingling unease from my vision earlier.
“Better the sheep than us!” announces Ausveig as she holds a finger in the air.
Some girls signal agreement, but Sifrid jumps to her feet.
“A good shearing never hurt a sheep. Likewise, a good shagging never hurt a girl!”
Many women giggle. But I throw Eidunn a quick glance. She looks serious. I know why. I can only imagine the burden she carries. Is it really a secret? Has no one noticed? Not even Ausveig?
Sifrid turns to me with a wicked smile.
“Lady Kilda,” she teases, hinting at my new status. “Great party, but perhaps some male company would hit the spot?”
Eyes widen and turn to me. My response comes instantly, no reflection needed.
“Sigurd would have me whipped if half the girls here got pregnant tonight.”
The girls cheer and raise their cups at the thought.
“I meant one man,” says Sifrid, still standing. “Not every wrestler in the valley.”
“Which man would that be?” I ask.
“One who can tell a good story, one who is nice to look at. Can anyone guess?”
She looks around the room with her drunken eyes.
“Ari!” shouts one of the ladies.
“Yes! Please, Lady Kilda, surely Sigurd would find it acceptable that the skald entertained us?”
A chuckle escapes my lips. She’s right, it would be acceptable. I haven’t talked to Ari since our return. His mood must have lifted since our descent.
“Please, Kilda!” shouts one girl.
“We promise to behave!” shouts another, prompting laughter from the ladies.
“We won’t eat him, at least not alive!” shouts a third.
I look at Ausveig, who shrugs, a big grin splitting her face. She finds it acceptable.
“Very well,” I answer, pointing a finger at Sifrid. “But you will ask him yourself!”
The women cheer. Sifrid’s cheeks flush. She talks a big game, but clearly has little experience when it comes to men. I just hope Ari sees this whole setup for what it is—good fun.
I wade through the throng of chattering thrall-women. I know most of them, at least formally. Some are older, some are younger, some are short and some are tall. They are all slaves.
But they are also all smiling. This was a great idea. They will remember this. They will be loyal. We are friends.
I grab the young girl’s arm and pull her to the door, pushing her into the cool air of the night. I turn to the ladies before leaving, holding up a finger with mock sternness.
“No biting the skald!” I say. They laugh. “You pack of wolves.”
I close the door, turning with a grin to Sifrid and gesturing for her to follow.
“I didn’t mean to be rude, Kilda,” she says as she catches up.
“Don’t worry, it’s a good idea.”
It only takes a minute to arrive at Ari’s door. I knock hard and step back, pushing the girl in front of me.
“No… but…” she says.
The door opens. There he is. The situation is absurd. I snort as my eyes connect with Ari’s. He looks confused, raising an eyebrow as a couple seconds pass in awkward silence.
The girl is speechless, and so am I. Only a linen cloth covers him, tied around his waist. Broad shoulders fill the doorway.
The V shape of his body leads my eyes to his hips.
The raised floor of his house puts our heads right at the height of his…
privates, and I forcefully raise my eyes back to his face.
My cheeks blush. I shake the girl’s shoulder, giggling.
Ale has me tipsy and Ari is mercilessly bringing out the worst in me.
The girl startles awake, eyes wide at Ari’s lack of clothes.
“Oh… uh… good evening, most honored skald,” she says clumsily.
“Good evening,” he responds.
“Kilda is hosting us thrall girls, and uh… we wondered if perhaps, you could, if you wanted to, of course, tell us a story?”
His eyes turn to me as a grin grows in his beard. He fastens a dark lock of hair behind his ear.
“You would have me entertain your guests?”
A silly smile spreads on my face as I push the girl on the shoulder.
“It was her idea!” I say as my body heats up. “The ladies wouldn’t complain.”
He contemplates this for a few seconds, giving my eyes time to greedily lap up the sight of his form. His muscles have their own shadows, by Freya. Hard as rock. Built like a god. A god under the rainbow. Practically naked. A naked god under the rainbow.
Sifrid’s mouth stands agape as she gazes up at him—or rather, up and down him.
“I will come,” he says finally.
“Thank you, Ari the Skald,” says the girl without looking away. “I will find a way to repay—” I put an arm around her shoulders and yank her to myself.
“I need a minute to get dressed,” says Ari.
“Good idea,” I say as I turn the girl away. “We don’t want a riot. You know where to find us.”
We walk back to the house, giggling like children who have pulled some naughty prank. I’m happy to see Ari again. What a man. Makes me feel like a little girl. Butterflies flutter in my belly.
“Freya’s tits,” says Sifrid. “That man is built like a giant.”