He looked puzzled. “Why are you sorry?”
“Because while I was chasing rainbows you were right in front of me and I failed to see your worth.”
“You are worth the wait,” he said.
“You are offering me everything I ever wanted,” she told him. “You were there all the time, yet I failed to see you for who you are because of your heritage. You are a better person than I. I made assumptions about you without getting to know you first. I am sorry.”
He reached out and took her hand. He turned it over, stroking her palm with a large, work-roughened finger. “We all make assumptions about others,” he said. “It is a natural thing for humans to do.”
“I am so glad I have seen you for who you are,” Frida told him, lacing her fingers through his. She looked up at him and took a deep breath. “Torsten, if you will still have me, I would like to accept your offer and become your wife.”
He jumped in the air with a yell that would terrify an enemy from miles away. Frida was startled and he laughed, then swept her up in his arms and twirled her around before setting her down.
“You have made me the happiest man on earth!” he laughed. “I love you, Frida!”
“I love you too,” she said shyly, smiling at his exuberance.
“Really?” he asked, becoming calm again as he looked deep into her eyes.
“Yes, really,” she said. “I just did not see it before now.”
He drew her close to him, his face just above hers in an intimacy that took her breath away.
“May I kiss you?” he asked softly.
She nodded and closed her eyes as his lips met hers. He was tentative at first as their lips touched but she liked the feeling of his lips on hers, warm and firm. His whiskers tickled the corner of her mouth and she almost giggled.
“What is it?’ he asked her, drawing away with concern.
“It was very good,” she told him. “But your whiskers tickled!”
“I am sorry. I have not kissed anyone before.”
“Not even Revna?”
“No. It is not the custom among our people because marriages are arranged. The bride and groom often do not meet until close to the wedding.”
“Do not be sorry about tickly whiskers,” she said. “I think I need another one.” She stood on tiptoes and planted her lips on his. He responded, kissing her on the mouth with a full, firm kiss that took her breath away.
“Who said you have no skill at kissing?” she asked as she drew away to catch her breath. “I am a fortunate woman indeed to have a man who can kiss like that!”
He blushed. “I have decided that I like kissing you,” he said. “I am looking forward to kissing you thoroughly every day.”
“We must behave with decorum around the other members of the community,” she said. “It is expected that we shall not spend long periods of time alone.”
He groaned. “How soon can we marry?”
“Do you wish to complete a house for us to move into after our marriage?”
“I do. But that will take time.”
She had a sudden thought. “I know it is not ideal, but perhaps we could fix up this barn to live in until the house is ready.”
He looked at it doubtfully. “I will inspect it later to see if that idea will work. But today, we have other matters to deal with.”
She flinched at the reminder that they would have to face Fritjof. “At least I will not be alone,” she said. “You have turned my mourning into joy!”
He smiled at her. “You know, I almost feel sorry for Fritjof,” he said. “He doesn’t realize that if only he would be kind and treat others well, he could have all the things that he wants from a wife and she would give them willingly.”
“It is only because he is selfish and cruel that he has to take what he wants by force and deceit,” Frida replied. She shuddered. “I am so glad that you found me in time. I was foolish to run away when you had a solution.”
“You did not know that and Sigrid would not allow me to speak of it.”
“I must tell her not to be so protective in the future.”
He chuckled. “She is a fierce little she-bear,” he agreed. “Are you ready?”
She nodded and took one last look at the barn, her home of the past month. “I shall not be sorry to leave the barn,” she said. “It served me well but I am ready to return to the village and face Fritjof.”
“Come, then.”
He took her hand and they started down the hillside together.
CHAPTER 12
Fritjof couldn’t sleep. Today was the day that he would finally be able to claim Frida as his bride. It had been a lonely month since the ruling by the Thing. He had stayed away from Merilant and the men of his own village had avoided him, only greeting him briefly in passing. He assumed they did not wish to become involved in his argument with Alfonso. Since the destruction of Myrkvior Fjall, the people of this village preferred to focus on rebuilding and had little time or patience with conflict or squabbles. But in this case, it was Alfonso’s fault that there was trouble. If he’d upheld his part of the agreement and handed his daughter over, there would be peace now. Instead, Fritjof had been forced to fight for what was rightfully his.
And today he would claim his bride. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t yet sundown; if they hadn’t found a husband for the stupid wench by now, they never would. She would be fortunate to have a husband since no one else wanted her. He would teach her a thing or two about what it meant to belong to a man. The uppity little cow should know better than to think herself too good for him; he would bring her down from her high perch in short order. No wife of his was going to look down on him. He smacked one fist into the other hand as he thought about what he would do if she dared to oppose him. She would learn who was the boss, so she would. He’d wanted a young wife rather than a widow because the young ones were easier to train and less likely to cause him grief. Once he’d broken her will, she would do his bidding without complaint. He couldn’t wait to start.
In fact, as soon as it was daylight, he would make his way to Merilant and stake his claim. It should not be too long before they could be married, especially if he could persuade the Christian pfaffo to marry them. A Christian wedding could be arranged in a matter of weeks and then he would have his bride. At last, his plans were about to fall into place.
Sigrid’s head snapped up as she heard someone at the front door. Who could it be at this hour of the day? The rest of the family had left the house to work in the garden or at the farm; she was alone in the house, cleaning up after furimund. She dried her hands and went to the door.
She almost jumped with fright when she opened it and found Fritjof on the doorstep.
“What do you want?” she asked coldly.
“I have come to claim my bride,” he told her.
“Well, you cannot,” she retorted.
“She is mine now. You have failed to find her a husband, have you not?”
Sigrid ignored the question. “Go away, Fritjof. You cannot have her.”
He began to get angry. “Today is the day I may claim my bride.”
“At sunset, you fool. Have you forgotten the ruling of the Thing?”
“It matters not whether it is sunset or sunrise. If she has no husband by now, there will never be one. She is mine.”
“No, she is not! You may force her body to obey you but you will never possess her heart!” Sigrid spat.
“What do I care for her heart?” he mocked. “That is nonsense that silly women carry on with. She shall serve me and carry out my wishes just as any good, obedient wife does in this land. She has no need for this ridiculous attention to her heart. That is rubbish that you Christians came up with.”
Sigrid’s eyes narrowed. “No woman on earth wants to become your wife, Fritjof,” she told him, her tone quiet and deadly. “You treat women no better than you treat slaves. You are arrogant, harsh and cruel and no one wants to live with you.”
“
It matters not what women want,” he told her, supremely confident that he was right. “They must do what they are told.”
“Or?”
“They will be beaten. Perhaps even killed. It is enough to make most women obey.”
It was all she could do to restrain herself from flying at him and scratching his eyes out. “You are a liar and a cheat and now you say you would commit murder! And you would justify it because your wife displeased you in some way. You disgust me.”
“I care not what you think of me,” he said loftily. “Once I am married to your sister, I shall not have to see your ugly face again nor listen to your whining. Frida shall not be permitted to visit. You will encourage her to rebel against my rule in my own house.”
“You seifarēr!” Sigrid spat. “How dare you presume to withhold my sister from her family? From me?”
“I shall have every right. She will belong to me. She will obey me.”
“Or what? You will kill her?”
“I will punish her until she comes to her senses.”
“You filthy swīn,” Sigrid screeched. “I will never allow it!”
“You have no choice. Now, enough of this foolishness. Where is the wench? I wish to claim her.”
“She is not here,” Sigrid said, standing firmly in the doorway.
“What do you mean, she is not here?”
“She ran away the night before the decision made by the Thing.”
“I do not believe you.”
“It is the truth. She is not here.”
“Nonsense. Someone would have informed me had the wench run away.”
“That is none of my concern, Fritjof. Now leave, for she is not here.”
“I am not leaving without her, you stupid huntinna. I shall find her myself and haul her out of here by her hair if I must!” Fritjof shoved Sigrid out of the way as if she were made of air and barged into the house.
“Frida! Frida!” he shouted as he began a rampage through the house.
Sigrid followed him. “She is not here! You are wasting your time, you fool!”
Fritjof was growing desperate. The little cow was lying to him, he was certain. He ran from room to room, looking for any possible hiding places. He was sure she was somewhere in the house. He would tear the place to pieces if he must; he would find her if it was the last thing he did.
CRASH! He knocked over a pottery vase in his search. The family’s belongings went flying all over the room as he searched every nook and cranny.
Sigrid heard the noise and came to see what he had destroyed. “You fool!” she shouted, raising the frypan she held in her hand high above her head. He was slow to react and she almost caught the top of his skull with it, grazing the back of his head and down his neck instead.
He roared with pain and fury. “That’s it, you little huora!” he thundered. “You are going to get what is coming to you! I will teach you to respect a man!”
He leapt towards Sigrid, lightning-fast. She tried to dodge out of his way but he forced her back against the wall and then threw her onto the floor, pinning her beneath him. He would teach her a lesson. And oh, it would feel so satisfying. She would never challenge his authority over her sister again.
Einar spoke softly to the oxen as they approached Merilant. He and Torsten were to help on Gerfrid’s house today. He assumed Torsten must have left early; he was gone when Einar awoke. It was still early and the road was quiet as the oxen plodded past the houses.
Suddenly an uproar erupted as he approached Alfonso’s house. A scream pierced through the early morning peace, followed by shouting and more screams.
Einar ran towards the sound. It was Alfonso’s house! Something was terribly wrong there. He reached the front door and could hear the sounds of a struggle inside. The door was open and he charged into the front room of the house. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom inside.
“Get off me, you filthy brute!” a woman shrieked, desperation in her voice.
“I will show you a thing or two!” a man replied. “You will learn to respect me and stay out of my business!”
Einar recognized the voice at the same moment his eyes registered the scene. Sigrid was pinned beneath Fritjof. His pants were down and he was sliding his hand up her skirt. She struggled and screamed again as he slapped her across the face.
White-hot rage flowed through Einar’s veins. “Fritjof!” he roared and launched a mighty kick at Fritjof’s backside.
Caught off-guard, Fritjof howled with pain and rolled off Sigrid. Einar grabbed him by the back of his clothing and jerked him to his feet. His pants tangled around his legs and he fell again, still whimpering with pain.
“You do not like it, do you?” Einar roared, his anger far from abated. “You are a filthy coward! How dare you molest this woman in her own home?” He towered over Fritjof, shouting into his face.
“She hit me with a pan!” Fritjof defended himself. “And she will not tell me where Frida is.”
“So that is reason to break into her house and attempt to rape her?”
“I came to get what I am owed.”
“So when you did not get what you wanted, you decided you would take Sigrid by force instead?”
“She deserved it,” Fritjof snarled. “She is a little huora.”
Einar balled up his fist and shoved it under Fritjof’s nose. “You will respect this woman in her own home,” he said. “That is a right that we are guaranteed under the laws of our land. A man may not enter the house of another and harm, insult or molest without consequences. Apologize!”
“Never!” Fritjof spat. “I will never apologize to that cow!”
Einar was tempted to drive his fist into Fritjof’s face but decided on a different approach. “Very well then, you will find yourself before the Thing. I caught you attempting to molest this woman and you will face the consequences. I gave you the chance to apologize and you refused.”
“Not before I get what I am owed,” Fritjof insisted. “We will see what the Thing has to say about this family withholding my bride from me.”
“No one is withholding your bride, Fritjof,” Sigrid spoke up. “It is not sundown yet. She is not yours.”
“Silence!” he spat at her.
Einar kicked him in the thigh. “You will not order this woman to be silent in her own home. She is not subject to you. You are wrong in this matter. You had no right to enter her home and attack her. What you have done is enough that the Thing may decree that you are an outlaw.”
Fritjof paled. Being an outlaw meant that he would be outside of the protection of the law and someone could kill him without consequences. He would be forced to become a fugitive.
“I will still claim my bride,” he stubbornly insisted. “It is what I am owed.”
“She is not here,” Sigrid said. “Einar, I am sure Torsten told you that she ran away.”
Einar nodded. “He did. She could not bear the thought of marrying this swīn. I do not blame her, seeing him in action today.” He stooped down and shoved his face right in front of Fritjof’s. “She is not here,” he said slowly. “She ran away.”
Fritjof turned his face away.
“You have ransacked this family’s house, harmed their daughter, and created a ruckus in the neighborhood for nothing. Have you no shame?”
“I came to get what I am owed,” Fritjof muttered.
“That is not the way to go about it,” Einar said sternly. “We shall see what Alfonso and Minna have to say about what you have done.”
CHAPTER 13
Minna was at the far end of the vegetable garden, tying peas to a trellis she’d just constructed. It was a peaceful morning; she liked to get out in the garden early and talk to God as she worked.
Her musings were cut short when she heard a scream. Her head jerked up and she stopped to listen. More screams and shouting. It seemed to be coming from her house. She broke into a run, nimbly hopping over rows of carrots and cabbages in her homeward charge.
“Where is Alfonso? Where is Minna?” a man’s voice asked.
“I am here!” she shouted, running into the house.
A scene of chaos greeted her disbelieving eyes. The interior of the house was in shambles. The family’s belongings were strewn across the room and broken pottery littered the floor. At the far end of the room, Sigrid sat on the floor with her back to the wall. She seemed to have no inclination to rise. Nearby sat Fritjof, his pants tangled around his legs and a thunderous look on his face. Einar towered over him, ready to strike him should he arise.
“What is going on?” Minna asked, fear in her voice.
Einar turned to her. “I am sorry you must see this, Minna,” he said. “I was passing by with the oxen when your daughter began to scream. I ran inside and saw this filthy pig attacking her.”
“I am fine, Mother,” Sigrid tried to reassure her. “I will arise when I am ready.”
“You have had a nasty fright,” Einar agreed.
Minna felt rage gathering somewhere deep inside. It exploded and she leapt at Fritjof, raking her fingernails across his face. “How dare you?” she yelled. “How dare you invade our house and attack Sigrid? I ought to kill you on the spot!” She followed her tirade with a fierce slap across his cheek.
Einar grinned. He could see where Sigrid’s feistiness originated. “I am sure that would be gratifying, Minna,” he said. “But we would do well to leave the Thing to deal with him.”
“The Thing?” Minna asked in disbelief. “They will let him go free.”
“Not this time,” Einar said. “I saw the incident and he is clearly in the wrong. He has entered your home and caused harm and damage. That is against the laws of our land.”
“Mother?” asked a familiar voice. “What is going on here?”
Minna jerked her head up. Frida stood in the doorway, a look of disbelief on her face as she surveyed the chaos in the room. Minna rushed towards her.
Frida: Claimed (Viking Guardians Book 3) Page 8