by Susan Wright
The conversations I overheard among Ejegod’s retinue mainly concerned the new immigrants who had come for the landnam, land-taking. The chieftains and magnates who ruled the western islands and vast tracts of forest were all descended from land-takers. Their ancestors had packed children, home goods, and livestock into their enormous knaar and ventured across the ocean. Yet Ejegod’s men spoke with disdain of these new fighting men in their heavy chain mail and helms. Some had brought along their women and children, rejected from settlements in Danelaw. Most were relegated to a rough-hewn encampment across the bay from Tillfallvik. Yet they had arrived in their own fleet instead of the merchant ferries, so they could in truth take the land of their choosing at any time. With so many warriors, they could surely protect their own settlements like true vikingr.
On the third day, it was nearly sunset as I crawled along the rafters of our longhouse. That’s when I heard the call of an olf. I’d rarely heard such a plaintive cry, barely at the edge of hearing. I felt a tug, and a single hair was pulled from my head. In exchange for the gift, it left a whispered word floating behind my head.
“Come!”
It had been years since I heard an order so clear from the gods’ favorite creatures, not since I had been led to a ring of trees in the deep fens as a child. I had found gifts there for me, a few glass beads and a bronze disc. I had given what little I possessed—a broken buckle and a bit of a mirror I’d found on the shore. I never went inside the ring of trees, fearing I would be drawn unwittingly into the Otherworld, but sometimes presents were left there to tempt me. I would do much for the olfs, but I would not leave my own world at their behest. It was the one geasa my mam laid on me when she first explained the sight.
But now, I couldn’t resist following the tinkling call. I crawled down the center beams to the other end of the longhouse where I had never ventured. There was a storage platform there, so I was less exposed. With a final trill, the olf ’s voice disappeared, to be replaced by ordinary voices.
Quietly at first, but quickly growing louder, a woman demanded, “Who do you think you are? Unhand me, you lout!”
Edging through the shadows in the vaulted ceiling, I tried to stay hidden as I looked down into the hallway. There was no mistaking the giant Birgir wrestling with the woman. She wore an embroidered green dress without a cloak. He locked his arm around her and clamped his hand over her mouth before she could scream. “You belong to me, Silveta! I will show you.”
With that, he dragged her across the hallway. Her feet kicked the air in desperation. In a flash I saw the heavy wooden door and knew that Birgir intended to take the chieftain’s wife inside. The leer on his face and the way his tongue licked her cheek made his intentions clear.
I acted quickly, shoving a cask from the storage platform, sending it shattering against the hard floor. The vat held a dark red wine, which splashed over both of them.
It startled Birgir, who loosed Silveta enough for her to let out a piercing scream. The outer door banged open as people came running to investigate. Birgir whirled to look up, but I ducked behind the other casks and barrels on the platform. Silveta sagged to the ground, crying out for help. Birgir cursed as he pushed past the house slaves.
Silveta explained that the cask of wine had fallen. She sent the two women to get water and rags to clean up.
I started to withdraw along the beam as quietly as I could, but Silveta called out softly, “You, up there, who saved me! Who are you?”
I remembered Lexander’s order to obey, so I climbed down the ladder of the storage platform to face her. “I am Marja of Vidaris.”
“Oh, one of those pleasure slaves.” Silveta slumped back against the wall. I dared to look at her, marveling at the ropes of tiny amber and glass beads around her neck and entwined in her hair. Her skin was like rose petals and fresh cream. It was frightening to see such a great freya brought so low.
Then Silveta looked up at me again. “You’re supposed to obey above all else, aren’t you?”
“Yes, freya.”
“Then don’t speak of what you saw here, Marja.”
That was what Lexander had ordered after I had seen the winged ship. “Surely it will be so. I give you my pledge!”
The two slaves returned and began clucking over the spreading red stain across the stones. I went to help Silveta to her feet. She was looking more composed, but her sea-foam veil had pulled loose, revealing most of her coiled honey-blond hair. Her wrists still had red marks on them. Because Birgir had been between her and the cask, her skirt had only a few dark splashes, like blood.
“Help me,” Silveta murmured, and I supported her weight on my arm as I assisted her through the wooden door. Inside, the ceiling was enclosed by wood panels, offering complete privacy. I took note of several elaborately carved chests and two bronze coffers with enameled plaques and concluded this was Silveta’s sleeping closet.
Silveta slumped onto the platform that held the bed linen, putting her hands over her face. “What shall I do? If I feign illness and refuse to take the night-meal, then he’s sure to come for me. I should have left once the ritual was done!” Her icy blue eyes focused shrewdly on me. “You swear you’ll not speak of this? I don’t need everyone to know that the chieftain’s honored guest intends to rape me.”
Her scornful words shocked me. Silveta was too refined to say such base things, but I had seen it with my own eyes. Birgir acted like a bull in rut, oblivious to anything but the cow beneath him. “But your husband must defend you!” I exclaimed in dismay.
“Ah, yes, that’s what most would say,” Silveta replied.
I waited, but she merely shook her head in agony. “Can you not ask for your own guard? ’Tis only to be expected.”
“No, any bondsman would tell my husband about Birgir. And then Ejegod’s life as well as my honor would be forfeit. That is why you cannot speak of this.”
I nodded, mesmerized by her frantic eyes. But I didn’t understand.
“Ejegod would lose face,” Silveta explained in despair. “He would have to fight Birgir, but he could not best him in a duel. Even if my husband were only injured, that would spark a feud between our bondi and Birgir’s warband that we cannot hope to win.”
I was stunned. Our chieftain protected Markland and stood as final judge for disputes between the local magnates. I felt such deep respect for my own great-uncle—he maintained the peace and was responsible for the rituals that kept Jarnby safe. I had imagined our chieftain’s powers were near to those of a god. And now, to hear that Ejegod was so weak . . .
“Surely there must be a guardian spirit you can call on?” I protested.
Silveta waved off my suggestion. “I will get no help from the Otherworld in this matter.”
I thought she was too quick to deny the power that had summoned me to her aid. But if the olfs had not revealed themselves to her, then it was not my place to tell her. I wished that I knew more about the path the olfs had set me on so I could better advise the chieftain’s wife.
“I have held him off for a week,” Silveta continued, “but it seems that Birgir Barfoot would do anything to gain his purpose. I never expected to be attacked outside my very room. He has watched Ejegod drink himself senseless every night and has timed it well indeed. He will not wait another day to take what he wants.” She glanced at her closed door. “I don’t doubt it would be easy for him to come through those boards in spite of the iron bolt.”
“I almost believe he would,” I agreed.
Silveta raised her head, brushing the loosened strands of hair from her face. “If I had my own loyal bondi, then I would be protected without involving Ejegod . . . someone who would fight unto death against Birgir for my honor alone. I must escape tonight. I’ll tell the chieftain I’ve received a missive urging me to return to Hop. I can ask my father for men who can protect me without betraying my secret to the chieftain.”
I nodded, understanding the complex ties of kinship. If the men came from her fathe
r and swore themselves to Silveta, then they would adhere to her orders alone.
But the hope fled from her face. “What if Birgir follows me? There is little time until the night-meal when he will find that I am gone. He could send his warriors to catch me. His ships are very fast. After today, I could believe he would be so bold.”
She was so despairing that I offered, “I can ask my master for help.”
Silveta turned to me as if she was considering it. She slowly stood up and reached for my shoulders, examining me closely. Her perfume smelled like an armful of flowers warmed by the sun. So close to her, I could see the delicate stitches of vines and leaf embroidery on the long panels of her dress. She came close to rivaling Helanas in her form, yet Silveta was nearly as young as I.
“Praise be the gods,” Silveta breathed. “You can take my place here tonight. If Birgir attempts nothing, you can go back to your people in the morning. But if Birgir does come, surely in the darkness there is little to tell between us. Your hair is as long and nearly as bright as mine.”
Shocked, I blurted out, “You want me to deceive Birgir?”
“Yes, you must!” Her expression was resolute. “This is my only hope to escape. I would rather kill myself than spawn his get.”
I had heard enough to know the old chieftain’s lack of issue was a delicate matter. His children did not long survive, and his wives had died in childbirth. Ejegod’s loyal subjects were pinning their hopes for an heir on young, healthy Silveta. We pleasure slaves never conceived; Helanas had given me a mug of foul-tasting tea that would keep me from quickening for the next turn of seasons.
“You must help me,” Silveta insisted.
I thought of the geasa and agreed. “Yes, I must obey you. But my master is surely missing me by now. May I go tell him what you’ve asked of me?”
“No, you’ll stay here. It’s better that nobody knows.” Her air of command was complete. I think she despised me a little for my obedience, but that was no matter as long as she got what she needed. “I’ll leave immediately. I’ll ask my husband to not speak of my departure. He can do that much for me. Lock the door and don’t let anyone in here, no matter what they say. Will you do it?”
I had to fulfill my duty, no matter how difficult it would be. If I disobeyed, I would suffer untold consequences. Vidaris itself could be destroyed by my actions.
I whispered, “Yes, my freya.”
Perhaps Silveta peered into the future as my mam often did, because it happened exactly as she predicted. Birgir returned to Silveta’s door when she didn’t appear at night-meal and pounded on it with his fist, demanding that she join them at the table.
I stayed against the wall, terrified of the shaggy giant, and called out, “I am unwell and cannot leave my bed!”
Birgir raged at my denial, but I repeated myself, growing fainter all the while. Soon enough he gave up and returned to the fire hall.
I worried about Lexander and Helanas. Would they search for me? Had the other slaves confessed that I had climbed out of our room? If so, perhaps Lexander would simply assume I had been caught by a guest and was entertaining him. Rosarin had been gone until midday every day since we arrived.
I tried to call the olf to come cheer me, but the inexplicable creature merely giggled at me from a distance, refusing to enter Silveta’s closet. I finally lay down in her bed, stroking the fine fur cover until I drifted off warm and drowsy.
A loud bang woke me. It was the door flung back with the clash of a key removed from the lock. I came awake knowing Birgir was inside. I didn’t think it could happen, but Silveta had known it would. I clutched the fur to my chest.
“I have the key, my sweetmeat!” Birgir exclaimed, slurring drunkenly. But he was sober enough to bolt the door behind him. “I’ll swear you sent it to me through that pretty maid. She would lie for me, indeed. Then all of Tillfallvik will know you for the doxy you are. But I’ll protect you from your husband. I will, my lovely! Even if I must kill him, eh?”
In the utter blackness, Birgir stumbled into the chest at the foot of the bed. I whimpered, “Please, no . . .”
“So you’re there,” Birgir chuckled. “Waiting for me in your nest. You knew I would come for you. I’ve seen how you watched me and longed for a virile man. No girl such as you should be clutched to the breast of a dried-up old cod!”
His hand clutched my ankle in a tight grip, hurting me. I kicked, but I couldn’t get away. Remembering how the servants had come running to help Silveta, I opened my mouth to scream.
I was cut off midshriek by his hand. “They’ll not help you tonight, my lovely! You’re all mine, and come morning, I’ll deal with the chieftain and we’ll prepare for a wedding. The magnates of Markland may squawk, but I’ll gain the jarls of Viinland on my side with one of their own as my wife.”
I choked in outrage. I resisted as much as I could because every touch caused pain. But there was nothing I could do to dislodge his massive bulk. Birgir pressed down so heavily on me that soon he removed his hand, content that I could hardly breathe as he spread my legs and pummeled into me. This was not pleasure, and there was nothing that could make it so. Even his silver pendant bit cruelly into my chest.
I desperately clung to only one comforting thought—I had kept my chieftain’s wife from going through such hell. Silveta and I had outwitted him, though he knew it not.
Four
I lay awake, trying to ease myself from under Birgir’s arm and leg, but the warrior slept light and clenched me more tightly to him every time I shifted. All night, I called for the olfs to help me. But I heard nothing in return for my sacrifice. When the olfs had called me to save Silveta from Birgir, they little knew it could end in my rape.
By morning, I was muzzy-headed from fatigue, thinking only of the door that lay between me and release, when Birgir finally grunted and awoke. As always, I could feel the dawn breaking even though we were in darkness. As Birgir sat up, I tried to roll out of bed away from him.
He grabbed my arm and held me in place. “Not yet, my pretty. I want to see your face this time. ’Twill make it all the more rousing.”
His threat and the way he pushed me to the bed made it all flash before me again: his sour breath in my face, his nasty tongue probing my mouth, sweat dripping onto my chest. I felt scoured by his rough, hairy body. There was a deep ache in my groin that shot sharper pains into my gut every time I moved. He had torn into me last night, not caring how I cried in protest. Only my submissive nature had saved me so that the damage was not worse.
Birgir expertly struck a spark against the floor and lit the taper. He turned to me, the light casting shadows against the paneled walls of the closet.
Terrified, I stared up at him. He smirked through his blond wooly beard. He had planned his betrayal well— with the maid’s testimony that Silveta had intended for Birgir to come to her closet, the chieftain’s wife would appear to be complicit in this deed. Ejegod would be forced to fight Birgir for his honor. Birgir was gloating as if his victory over the chieftain was assured, and he was envisioning the power and influence he would gain by taking Silveta as his wife.
It took a few moments before he truly saw me.
I braced myself for a roar at his indrawn breath. Birgir’s hands closed hard on my bare arms. “Who are you?” he breathed through gritted teeth.
“Marja,” I gasped.
Birgir hauled me up, shaking me soundly. “Who put you here?”
I knew I must speak carefully or I would violate the geasa laid on me. But it mattered not because his next words were, “It was that fox bitch, Silveta, was it not? If she thinks that she will get away with her petty tricks, she will learn another lesson.”
He dragged me out of bed, his hands clenching as if to snap my neck. Spittle flecked his beard as he snarled, “Tell me where she is hiding or I will kill you now! That would be a surprise for her, would it not? That would teach her not to leave another to take her proper place.”
I believed hi
m; his bloodshot eyes were wild with anger. He might kill me even if I told him. But Silveta had not ordered me to keep her destination a secret. Soon enough she would return with her new bondsmen and all would know she had gone to Hop. It was far too late for Birgir to follow her there, where she would be protected by her father’s kin. Clearly the geasa required I tell him the truth, even if he took his anger out on me. “Freya Silveta has gone to her father’s house in Viinland.”
“No!” Birgir growled as he shook me hard. I saw stars and thought I was facing death. My last thought was not of Vidaris, but of the fens of my youth. I wished I had died there instead, to become one with the watery land. Perhaps Lexander would take my body back to my family and my brother would insist on laying me near the olf ring I had discovered. The olfs I loved so well would carry me to the Otherworld . . .
But instead of the darkness I expected, Birgir threw me aside to the floor. The hard stones scraped my knees and palms. I lay naked in the chill air, fearing to move in front of him. He paced around the closet, muttering and grunting with anger as he covered his well-muscled legs and chest beneath layers of wool and buckled on an everyday breastplate made of reindeer hide. There was no other sound outside the walls, which meant the exalted guests were still sleeping off the merriment of the night before. A massive bearskin with a winter ruff served as his cloak, but he left that aside to glare down at me.
My legs curled in and my arms protected my bare chest, knowing how vulnerable I was lying by his stiffened leather boots. “Who else aided Silveta in this?” he demanded.