Chapter 71
Acold wind bites at my cheeks. It whips from the west, funneled through the valleys and up the mountains to slap me in the face. A fitting reminder of my current position.
Show you belong. Prove where you stand. Easy words. Orders to be followed. Does Sigurd really think belonging can be handed out like he does meat or cheese? A cloud lingers in my mind as I approach the slave quarters.
By now the ladies will have eaten. They will have retired to their corner, seeking their own space away from the men.
Hopefully they are at peace, allowing me to speak to them without interruption or digressions.
Every step I take toward the outhouse, toward the thralls, my stomach knots tighter. I’m unsure how to proceed.
Am I lying to the thralls? Am I lying to Sigurd? Both, by Odin. I don’t know which lie will kill me first. One side requires my humanity, my being. It yearns for freedom. The other demands that I enforce the law, that I seed loyalty in girls who live in bondage. It offers me status.
Let’s be honest, I want to live. Without a doubt, Sigurd’s patience is wearing thin. How long will being a Volva protect me? The second Sigurd views me as a liability instead of an ally, I’m gone. Drowned or hanged. Discarded without a burial.
My hands shake as I prepare my entrance. To be fair, Sigurd is a good master, both to me and the girls. We eat better than most free people. But look at Eidunn. Who is happy about good food while living in chains? Only slaves.
The second I push open the door, I am hit by a wave of laughter. Thrall men drinking thin mead and joking. In the next second, deafening silence. All eyes turn to me. Smoke and sour sweat hang thick in the air. The men look grim, some look worried. A hushed whisper spreads among them.
I falter, my doubts strengthened by the men’s judgmental glares. I stand, frozen, in the doorway.
“Look away, you useless trolls!” I hear a familiar voice ring across the room.
Ausveig steps to me, laying a hand on my lower back and leading me to the women’s quarters. Her other hand strokes my arm, like a mother comforting her child. I don’t deserve her care. Her kindness is a stark contrast to my convoluted reason to visit.
Still, her warmth spreads to me. My back straightens and my chin is raised. No man shall hinder my walk. She continues.
“Look away before Freya’s mad-curse catches you in its grip!”
To my surprise, most men lower their gaze.
Laughter bubbles from the women’s corner, the sheet is still raised.
When I enter the private space shared by the girls, all I see is wide eyes and smiles.
They clap their hands over their heads. Eidunn is missing.
I haven’t seen her since she attacked me. Freya, let her be safe.
“Our lady of fate returns!” shouts Sifrid as she stands to embrace me.
The other ladies join in, all welcoming me back to the quarters where I had first slept with them.
I see them all every day, but this moment is like some destined reunion.
So many hugs—tears fill my eyes. My fears of being hated evaporate.
Yet if they knew why I was here, they would spit at my feet.
My chest tightens at the reason for my visit.
A secret I cannot share openly with them.
Sigurd’s quest. I would agree with him. The ladies seem more liberated, more boisterous.
They act more like proud horses than whipped dogs.
Am I to be the one to remind them of their place? To tighten the chain on their necks?
“Tell us a story!” shouts a young girl.
“Let her breathe!” shouts an older one in response.
I am pushed into a chair by multiple hands.
I can’t stop myself from laughing with them.
They are as one, sharing the goal of making me sit and relax.
Each of them finds her place, on a fur, on a chair or on the bare wooden floor.
It brings me back to the time I had shared the tale of Ottar and Freya, in this very room.
I raise my hands. The chatter stops. They still trust me like they did.
“Thank you for the warmest welcome,” I say, purposefully slow. “It feels like an age since I sat here last.”
“That’s because it has been,” says one of them.
“Can’t blame her,” laughs Sifrid, winking at me. “She’s been busy with our favorite poet.”
They giggle. I blush. My cheeks heat up like coals in the fire.
“Ahem… Well, I… Uh…”
“Tell us!” shouts Sifrid.
A couple ladies release low whistles at her request. Ausveig speaks up.
“She came to talk to us, let’s hear what she has to—”
“Come on,” says Sifrid. “We’re all friends here.”
Their attention turns to me, like Sifrid’s interruption settled it.
I am expected to share my intimacy with Ari.
A friendly tension fills the air, like they are dying for me to give all the juicy details.
They have controlled where this conversation has begun, but I can still control where it ends.
A sly grin invades my face as I lean forward.
“Sifrid is hornier than Fulla!” I say in jest.
They roar in laughter, including Sifrid. I’m happy she didn’t take it as a personal insult. Our experience with Fulla has made her enjoy my joke.
“Guilty,” she responds, her face red like mine surely is. “At least I’m not as hairy!”
I snicker with them. Sifrid truly is sharp. Witty sense of humor. She would make a brilliant assistant for my Volva practice. Her eyes stay on me even through the laughs.
“Keep it down over there!” shouts one of the men, his voice muffled through the curtain. I stiffen, pulled out of the safe space created with the ladies.
Ausveig stands up immediately and sticks her head out, her tone bearing a threatening simmer.
“Watch your tongue before you find something unfortunate in your porridge tomorrow.”
It’s all too much. I’m holding my stomach and drying tears. Snorting to control my giggles. As Ausveig sits, Sifrid tugs at her dress.
“What would you put in his porridge then?”
Ausveig shakes her head and rolls her eyes.
“Goat dung, maybe. I hadn’t thought that far, but I’m sure you could produce something to mix into his bowl.”
“I would be honored, my lady,” says Sifrid. “From above or below?”
She gestures first to her nose then between her legs. I can only imagine what she is implying. I consider letting Sifrid’s intrusive questions from earlier be forgotten, but answering them will only strengthen my position. I decide to surprise them, giving them the information they have asked for.
“Above and below?” I ask, teasingly looking into the air as if pondering. “Makes me think of my night with the skald.”
The room goes silent for a second as they realize what I have said. Then they explode into another bout of giggles. Sifrid throws herself at my feet, tugging at my robe.
“Please tell, Kilda, please!”
“Well, it was—”
“Shush,” hushes Sifrid, turning to the ladies. “Shut it, you harlots!”
I clear my throat.
“He was firm but soft, above and below and… In and out.”
Ausveig slaps her palm to her forehead. Sifrid grins like a hungry wolf. The other girls’ eyes widen as some clap and cheer. I raise one suggestive eyebrow.
“That all you’re getting,” I finish.
“Don’t stop!” laughs Sifrid. “How am I supposed to sleep without an ending to the story?”
“Oh, the story had a happy ending, so now you know that.”
They snicker for a few seconds before the laughter dies down. Ladies love some gossip. No doubt the information will spread like wildfire through the valley. Everyone knew already, apparently. Do the free folk know? Do the male slaves know?
Do I give a fuck?
So many ships have sailed. I care not what Vidar thinks of me anymore. Only Sigurd can protect me. He hadn’t even mentioned Ari. He only wants control. Control I can supply him. That will protect me.
“Girls,” I say. “I want to ask you something.”
“Ask away,” says Ausveig. “Before this lot burns to a crisp.”
“Or melt to a puddle,” adds Sifrid.
“How do… How do you feel about your lives here?”
“What do you mean?” asks a girl in the back.
“Are you loyal to Opdal? Are you happy?”
Sifrid snorts.
“As happy as the horse pulling the carriage can be,” she says, to murmurs of agreement from several women.
“I have been on travels with Sigurd’s wife,” says Ausveig, “when she was alive. And trust me, other places slaves are treated worse than horses.”
“At least you got to travel,” complains Sifrid. “Some of us have been stuck here since birth.”
“You have clothes, you are well fed,” states Ausveig. “You are protected from being attacked.”
“Attacked?” asks Sifrid, her sharpened eyes darting to mine. “Me, maybe, for now—but say that to Eidunn.”
“Silence, girl!” snaps Ausveig.
But Sifrid stands, refusing to obey her elder.
“Silence is what allowed this to go on,” she says, looking down at Ausveig. “That’s why if I’m loyal to anyone, it’s Kilda here.”
“Yes!” shouts a woman.
“Same!” says another.
I hold my breath. Not what I was expecting. Not what I need. Freya save me. Sifrid goes on, turning to the other slaves.
“If Sigurd won’t protect us, who will? I’ll tell you who, Kilda!”
My stomach drops as I hear Sifrid speak.
This is the opposite of what I had hoped for.
This will make me a target. I am the thorn in Sigurd’s side.
The problem in his hall. I can’t lead anyone, even if I used to think so.
Their trust is heavier than any chain. My pulse hammers in my ears as I try to speak.
“I don’t think that—”
“Kilda helped Eidunn,” says one woman as she nods.
“None of us could, but Kilda did.”
“I didn’t do anythi—”
“Yes, you did, Kilda,” says Sifrid. “Or at least, you tried. We know what you tried.”
“Please, sit, my dear,” I say, gesturing with my hand for Sifrid to sit.
She obeys. I speak.
“I wanted to help. It was a mistake. I caused trouble and sent a man to an early grave. It was a mista—”
“Mistake, we know,” says Sifrid. “Njord wasn’t the one hurting Eidunn. I would have told you that, had you asked me.”
“Eidunn asked me not to speak of it.”
Ausveig shuffles her legs, clearly ruffled after being cut off by Sifrid.
“And yet here we are, speaking of it.”
“But that’s just it,” says Sifrid, turning to Ausveig defiantly. “Victims want their honor spared. As if that’s worth a pile of shit. If none of us speak up, the ones being abused suffer in silence.”
“True!” says a young girl as Sifrid continues.
Ausveig flinches at the young girl’s reaction, as if she knows the cost of such talk. Sifrid doesn’t stop.
“All of us have been bothered by someone sometime. Alone, we are easy prey. Together, we stand strong. That’s why—”
Sifrid points right at me. My jaw drops in surprise.
“Kilda showed them. A strong man died. The wrong man, maybe, but it was punishment for bothering a slave. They will be careful. Kilda helped us all.”
Many girls nod. Others sit with their eyes lowered. Some probably fear saying the wrong thing and suffering repercussions. Look at the mess I have caused. I straighten my back.
“A man died, it wasn’t the right—”
“Just shut up,” says Sifrid. “It was right. Njord challenged Ari. Odin decided. End of story. Men will be careful now, when they want to bother us. Bother us like Eidunn.”
Sifrid is dead serious. A dangerous woman. My protection of Eidunn has clearly kindled a flame in her chest that has grown to a forest fire. I thought convincing the girls would be easy, but Sifrid is doing the opposite. She is putting my life in danger.
Should I say it to her? Say that I have given up? Remind her that we are but slaves? That we have no laws to protect us from our owners? No laws to protect Eidunn?
Fuck that. Fuck Sifrid. But fuck that.
“Where… Where is Eidunn anyway?”
I can’t believe I don’t know. Is she even alive?
“We haven’t seen her for days,” says Ausveig.
“Me neither,” I reply.
“She’s obviously at her master’s. The one who owns her flesh,” says Sifrid.
I’m puzzled by her claim.
“At Sigurd’s? I was there today. She was nowhere to be seen.”
Sifrid shakes her head and releases a haughty laugh.
“You are owned by Sigurd, I am owned by Sigurd, Ausveig is owned by Sigurd. That doesn’t mean everyone is.”
“What do you mean? Who owns Eidunn then?”
The younger girl raises a confused eyebrow, like she can’t believe how stupid and ignorant I am. She glances quickly at Ausveig, whose face looks grim, almost gray. I lean closer to Sifrid.
“Who owns Eidunn then?”
“Fuck, Kilda, you don’t even know?”
“Tell me, by Odin!”
I know who it is. I know the answer. I don’t even need Sifrid to tell me. It all makes sense now. Everything is clear. Still, I need to hear Sifrid say it.
“Vidar, of course.”
My breath catches in my throat. The world around me shatters. The walls fall away. I don’t hear the words uttered around me. I have been a fool. An ignorant fool. I haven’t even asked. I haven’t even guessed. Even if I knew, deep down.
I have been blind. A fool playing a game without knowing the rules.
I stand suddenly, tears pressing behind my eyes.
“B… Bye,” I mutter under my breath as I storm out.
Chairs scrape the floor. I hear my name, but it sounds far off, like shouting through the rain.
I ignore the men, pushing the door open without closing it behind me.
The cold wind slaps me across the face.
Wake up! It shouts in my ears.
I’ve been a foolish girl. I’ve been a child. I trusted him. His words.
Ari paid the price. Njord paid the price.
More than anyone, Eidunn has paid the price.
He tried to charm me. I considered giving in. I could have ended up his victim too.
My impulse is to storm to his house. Hammer at the door. Pull Eidunn out of his predatory grip. I could shout so the whole valley hears of his beastly ways. They probably know already.
I would be killed. A rebel slave—attacking the jarl’s son.
The scream of Njord’s bride-to-be rings through my mind. I stop, crying into my hands. My knees feel like they might buckle, like I may crash to the ground. How I have changed her life. Ruined her future. What a fool I am!
I inhale sharply. Fuck giving in. I sprint to my house. No visiting Ari.
Vidar, lying schemer. Rapist.
Vidar the fucking animal.
No more illusions. My eyes are open now.
Tomorrow. I will know. Tomorrow, I will…