Fljótdís- Daughter of the North

by Sanita Trumpika

  He let out a long, slow breath. “I understand very well, Fljótdís. Aside from service, the life we lead is a dangerous one. But it is our way. I would not wish to leave a child an orphan in this cruel world.” He laid his hand over hers on his sword. “In all honesty, I do not know the answer to this problem. It will not be possible for me to lie beside you each night and not touch you as a man touches a woman. So, if it is the only answer, I will sleep in the town. I cannot guarantee that I won’t end up a drunkard or a madman, but I will comply with whatever you feel will keep you safe from this problem.”

  She was speechless. He was a proud warrior, a man of strong passions and desires. What he was proposing was beyond anything she could have expected, and if it was possible, it made her love him even more. She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his battle-scarred palm.

  “That won’t be necessary, my love. I have herbs that will keep us safe from any unwanted complications. I could never marry you only to banish you from my bed. We would both go mad. But I did not want to rob you of something so important if your heart was set on children between us.”

  He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, his expression one of huge relief. “My heart is set on nothing but a life together with you. So, I ask you again. Will you marry me?”

  She hesitated just long enough to make him wonder, then grabbed his face between her hands and kissed him deeply. “Yes.”

  He wrapped his arms around her waist possessively. “Alright, my goddess. You’re in my nets now.”

  She gave him a mischievous look. “Maybe I have caught you in my nets.”

  He grinned. “That is very possible. And I am a most willing captive.”

  “I do look silly.” Fljótdís frowned as she gazed down at her formal appearance.

  “You look wonderful, my lady, perfect for the feast.” Ingrid straightened the laces on the dress.

  “Like a goddess,” Queen Astrid added with a wistful smile.

  The gown was made of fine light green silk with exquisite hand-embroidered knotted designs. The style was uncomplicated, but it made her look like a true queen. Her dark hair fell loose over her shoulders, in some places arranged in small, intricate braids. She lifted up the hem of the immaculate dress and hid a couple of daggers in her boot.

  Astrid gave her a reproachful look, but Fljótdís was firm. “I won’t go out there without a weapon. Now, I think I am ready.”

  The sounds of the Midsummer feast could be heard even where they were in the Queen’s rooms. It was a time of unbridled celebration and merriment, often to excess, and King Harald’s Midsummer feasts were infamous for their extravagance. Many important people lived in hope of attending. It was a good time to feast and talk about future plans, about preparations for the upcoming winter and raids in the following spring.

  Astrid started for the door. “Time to go.”

  Fljótdís followed, her thoughts on the fact that by autumn, she would be a married woman. It was still hard to believe, and she had to wonder if she could truly be the kind of wife Erik expected her to be. But more than that, she had to wonder how she would endure it if he was ever lost to her. He had already done so much to change her, for the better, she hoped. But there was a sense that she needed him in her life now. She had needed her father and Ari and they had both been taken from her. This love went deeper still and that made it even more of a risk.

  As they entered the Hall, they were greeted with cheers of welcome. Fljótdís was quick to see Erik among the crowd. One look at him and all of her doubts stepped back into the shadows. His expression of total love and pride when he saw her was a gift beyond price, and it was all she could do not to motion to him to meet her outside right now and be done with all of this celebration nonsense. Better to have a private celebration of their own. But that couldn’t happen. There were obligations to be met. She smiled and joined him at the table.

  The King’s attention was on her from his table. He looked her up and down and raised his wine goblet. “You look stunning for our pleasure tonight, Fljótdís.”

  Hakon sighed, looking over at her a bit wistfully. “Like a goddess.”

  Erik laid his hand over Fljótdís’ hand. “This goddess is mine.” Even though he said it looking at Hakon, the words were clearly meant for the King. Hakon raised his hands in submission to show that the message had been received.

  Tonight, Fljótdís wanted to sit among her most loyal friends. The King’s table was full of important outsiders, mostly Earls who sent their hungry looks toward her. These men were used to getting everything they wanted by any means they chose. But she was not available. She was a great warrior who had earned her status through combat, as her father had, and soon she would be a wife, a wife like no other because she would be in true partnership with her husband, a loving alliance based on trust and honesty and equality.

  Agnes, Helgi’s wife, smiled at her from the other side of the table. “Truly, you look magnificent tonight. No one can compete with you.”

  Fljótdís gave her a warm smile in return. “You look wonderful, too, Agnes. You bring honour to Helgi and to yourself tonight.”

  Agnes and Helgi were a handsome pair dressed in dark blue. Although they didn’t hold each other’s hands at the table and had different conversations, it was clear how strong the bond was between them. They exchanged small smiles and looks, some secret words. Fljótdís just hoped that her future with Erik would be the same.

  Erik poured her some mead and surveyed the crowd. “I don’t see the Earl.”

  She much preferred to look at Erik than the crowd. “Did he say he was coming?”

  He returned his attention to her. “Yes, but to Hel with the Earl. I have an enchantress sitting next to me.”

  Fljótdís raised her eyebrow teasingly and glanced around. “An enchantress, where is she? Should I be jealous?”

  He shrugged. “Probably.”

  She kicked him under the table.

  “Gods, woman!” He rubbed his leg in genuine discomfort.

  Helgi leaned closer to them both, his eyes full of mischief as he spoke softly.

  “Listen carefully to my sage warning, Erik. You have signed your own death sentence with this one, my friend.” He inclined his head toward Fljótdís with a wink of conspiracy.

  “Helgi!” She gave him a stern look.

  But Helgi was determined to impart his wisdom. “Believe me, I know, boy. Nothing is more dangerous than an angry woman who knows how to use knives. Your peaceful life is over.”

  “And what is that supposed to mean, eh?” Agnes interrupted Helgi’s jabbering, trying to look stern. “You don’t have a peaceful life, husband?”

  Helgi kissed his wife dutifully. “My life with you is Valhalla, my dear. You know that.”

  Agnes gave him an indulgent smile. “Liar.”

  Helgi gave Erik a look of satisfaction. “There. You see what I mean? Women.”

  Fljótdís loved that the most important people in her life had accepted Erik as a part of their family. She glanced around the Hall, seeing the smiling and celebrating people and for the first time in her life, she felt truly happy. She noticed Ingrid and Olaf at the end of the table, engrossed in each other’s company.

  “It looks like we will have another wedding soon,” she said loudly.

  Ingrid blushed crimson and stared down at the table, but Olaf winked and raised his drinking horn to her. “From your mouth to Frigg’s ear, Commander.”

  Ingrid slapped him on the arm. “Olaf! Sorry, my lady. He is drunk and does not know what he’s talking about.”

  Fljótdís smiled knowingly. “Of course. Poor man. Take good care of him tonight, Ingrid.”

  Ingrid blushed even more if it was possible, but Olaf smiled into his horn of mead.

  Taking inspiration, Erik leaned close to Fljótdís and whispered in her ear.“You can trust that I’m going to take good care of you tonight, my love.” She gave him a challenging look and slid her hand under the table, care
ssing him boldly.

  He choked on his mead, but she smiled at him innocently.

  “Slow down, warrior. You have all evening to drink.”

  “Thank you for caring about me so much.” He gathered himself and wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her closer as he went about tempting explorations of her under the table with his other hand.

  His touch on her thigh instantly aroused her and she caught herself wanting to sneak away from the table with him and spend the rest of evening in seclusion at the river house. Sadly, that couldn’t happen, especially since she spied one of the guards enter the Hall and head straight for her.

  “Your pardon, Commander.” He bowed his head respectfully.

  Her festive mood melted away. To interrupt these celebrations meant this was no casual message. She rose from the table and took the messenger aside, away from the crowds but still in earshot of Erik and Helgi.

  “What is it, Meili?”

  Meili spoke guardedly, his eyes ever watchful. “We just caught a man, Commander, an outsider. He tried to enter the Hall in secret. We found this hidden in his clothes. Have a care not to touch it directly.”

  He handed her a large dagger wrapped in cloth. The blade was wet. To coat a dagger with poison was to make very sure someone was not going to survive an attack. It was the kind of tool one would use against a king.

  Meili eyed the dagger with loathing. “Should I report this to the King, Commander?”

  Fljótdís glanced over her shoulder to where the King was already drunk and busy seducing slave girls. Useless again.

  “Let’s not spoil the King’s evening. I’ll take care of it.”

  Erik came to her side. “I’ll come with you.”

  Helgi threw the last of his drink down his throat. “Me too. I want to see this bastard.”

  They followed the guard outside. The fresh air after the Hall’s madness was a welcome relief, but there was no relief from her concern as she examined the knife again in the torchlight. It was no ordinary weapon but made by a masterful metalsmith for a deadly and specific purpose.

  The King’s prison was located in deep caves underground. The stone walls dripped with moisture and the heavy wooden doors muffled the screams of tortured prisoners. It stank of rot, human waste and death. This was a place feared by all and it had a reputation throughout the Kingdom for its unspeakable cruelties. The King saw enemies everywhere, real or imagined, and the cells were never empty.

  The suspect wasn’t locked in chains yet. He was on his knees in one of the prison guard’s rooms. She noticed that Ulrik was there as well. One quick glance at the prisoner and she knew this man is not a simple warrior. He was an assassin who killed not in service to a lord or for glory, but for money. Such men were extremely well trained in murder and they had been very fortunate to catch him before he completed his mission. She stood in front of him with the poisoned knife in her hand and gave him a look of disgust. There was no honour about such individuals.

  One of the man’s eyes was swollen and his lip had been split during his capture, but he still managed a leering grin.

  “Ah, you must be the great Valkyrie.” He spat at her feet.

  She twirled the dagger in her hand. “And you must be brainless to think you could get through the King’s Guard.”

  His smile was sly. “You just got lucky, bitch.”

  Erik kicked the man in the face so hard that the murderer fell over sideways on the floor.

  The man spat out blood and a couple of broken teeth. “I see you’re here too.”

  Fljótdís gave Erik a questioning look. “Do you know this son-of-a-bitch?”

  The man struggled back to his knees. “Of course he knows me. We fought side by side.”

  She looked at Erik, her expression one of confusion. Now was not the time to let her mind go down dark paths of doubt. She grabbed the man’s hair and pulled back his head, pushing the poisoned dagger to his neck.

  “Tell me who sent you here to kill the King!”

  He kept his attention focused on Erik. “Who said I was here to kill the King?”

  Fljótdís followed the path of the man’s gaze back to Erik. She bit out a curse and hit him so hard he passed out.

  “Lock him in chains. I’ll interrogate him tomorrow.”

  She hurried through the dark corridors of the King’s prison with blinding anger in her eyes. That man was here to kill Erik. Erik had been keeping things from her, perhaps telling her lies about everything. What was he hiding from her? Did he have a wife and children somewhere as well?

  She stopped outside the Great Hall, breathing hard. People still feasted inside, but she was in no mood for any of it now. Midsummer. It had turned into a nightmare.

  Erik emerged from the darkness. She gave him a stormy look and he ran his hand through his hair, looking concerned that she might never speak to him again.

  “Tell me what’s going on in your mind, Fljótdís. Say it.”

  She looked into his eyes, feeling betrayed because he was not telling her the truth of all that was going on.

  “What are you hiding from me, Erik? Why was that man sent to kill you? And this time, I want an honest answer. You owe me that much.”

  He looked like a man sentenced to hang. “It’s nothing, Fljótdís. Nothing.”

  She exclaimed in frustration and started to leave, but he grabbed her hand.

  “Don’t go, Fljótdís. This isn’t right. None of this is right.”

  She would not allow herself tears. “How can I ever trust you, how can I be your wife if you dishonour me this way, Erik? What’s the point of our marriage if it’s made of nothing but lies and secrets?”

  Even in the poor light of the torches, his haunted expression tore through her defences. She could see that he wanted to tell her everything, but he was being held back. There had never been a hint of fear from him, but she saw fear in his eyes now and she was determined to help him defeat whatever he was battling in his heart.

  She touched his arm. “You have to tell me, Erik, or we are lost to each other.”

  He watched the people come and go through the doors of the Hall, some known to him, some strangers. “Will you come for a walk with me? There are too many ears here.”

  They walked away from the town with only the moon illuminating the old road that led through the forest. It was all Fljótdís could do to remain patient and not rail against him for not telling her that something was going on, something that was a danger to him and that might put all of them in jeopardy. This was too important to let anger rule her, but it was hard, very hard.

  When the town was far behind them, he drew her into a grove of trees, away from the road. The way things stood right now, she had no idea what to expect from him. He tore a bit of bark from one of the trees and turned it over in his hands absently.

  “I didn’t tell you this because I knew you wouldn’t be able to leave it alone, Fljótdís. I knew you would want to do something about it and I can’t have you jeopardize yourself over this.”

  “Over what?”

  He looked at her squarely. “Earl Einarr doesn’t fear me only because I could lead his people against him. There’s more. He’s my uncle.”

  “Your uncle?” She had not expected this and it hit her hard. But she needed to remain calm so that he would continue and she could learn everything.

  Erik tossed the scrap of bark into the trees. “Yes, he suspects that I will try to take my rightful place.”

  She laid her hand on his. “Your rightful place. Are you telling me that by rights you are the one who should be the Earl?”

  Erik nodded solemnly, the cruelty of remembrance weighing on him.

  “I was thirteen when my family fell in an attack to our village. I was captured and taken away as a captive. The only one who survived the attack from my family was Einarr. He took my father’s place.”

  She kept her eyes focused on the road a short distance away. “How long were you in captivity?”

>   “Five years. I escaped, and when I returned, Einarr was Earl. He was the only one who recognized me after so long. I was taken as a child but returned as a young man. As far as everyone else knew, I was long since dead. I wanted nothing of Einarr’s power and wealth, so I served him as a simple warrior, asking for nothing but a loyal warrior’s due. It was wrong and unjust, but there was nothing I could do about it. The secret was safe. Till now.”

  She stopped him. “You should have told me all of this, Erik. Am I not worthy of your trust?”

  He gave her a smile that spoke only of sorrow. “Of course you are, Fljótdís. You are my life. But I promised Einarr to keep this secret. And I wanted to forget who I am.”

  She walked a few paces away and turned to him. “You are who you were born to be, Erik, just as I am. I’m not the only one who sees that you are far more than a common warrior. You were born to lead and to inherit your role in life. You may choose not to make anything of it, but Einarr sees your strength. You are a threat to his rule, whether you choose to be or not. And if he has chosen to challenge you with efforts at assassination, he has chosen to do battle with me as well. There was never any way to keep me out of this. And now that Einarr has struck the first blow, there is no safety for him. Do you understand this? We will take care of this together. You are to be my husband. That means your battles are my battles.”

  He shook his head. “I never wanted this for either of us, Fljótdís. I never should have gone back to my village. But it was my home, even though I could never claim it.”

  She walked up to him and placed a light kiss on his lips. “I know what it means to need a home and I know what it means to lose one. You never have to keep things from me, Erik. It’s the only thing that could ever destroy us.”

  He smiled down at her and kissed her tenderly. “Nothing will ever destroy us, Fljótdís. And may the fires of Muspelheim swallow up any who might try.”

  She was there again, standing in front of the burning barn. The screams of the children suffering inside were like the lashes of a whip. She couldn’t move, couldn’t help them. All she could do was watch as the inferno consumed the old building. The flames were so high they almost reached the heavens, roaring like a dragon, tearing, destroying, turning everything into ashes. Tears streamed down her face now as she could not permit them to do before.