by Andromeda -
“Thank you, Mistress,” Rashida said, bowing.
Ingrid looked them over. “How old are you?”
“I am 13 summers, Mistress,” Rashida answered.
“Still a child then,” Ingrid remarked. “That means that your siblings and you shall have some of the same duties. Until you turn 15 summers, your labor will be light. You will clean, help in the kitchens and tend to other minor things. Other than that, I would ask that you follow the rules that the older servants have set in place. Am I understood?”
Rashida nodded and noted that her new Mistress called them ‘servants’, not ‘slaves’. This confused Rashida, as she thought they were slaves, but then she thought that maybe this woman did not care what they were called if they did their jobs.
With her siblings, Rashida bowed again before they all backed out of the room.
✯✯✯✯✯✯✯
Alrik sat in the tree, his eyes fixed upon the boats that were docked at the harbor. He had always wished to be a sailor like his father. He had always wished to go raiding and exploring like his father, but he knew that his mother wouldn’t allow it. He was too young, though he was nearing his 15th summer in this world. He was already considered a man in their culture, yet his mother wanted him under her wing for just a little bit longer, not that he complained. His mother was the highest skilled shieldmaiden in their village. He would learn a lot from her. As he sat in the tree, movement below him made him look down.
A girl was walking to the well, balancing a large jug on the top of her head with perfect ease. From this distance, he couldn’t get a good look at her, yet his curiosity made him climb down and follow. As he hid behind the trees, his eyes widened when he finally got a better look at her.
She was breathtaking. Never had he seen a girl like her in all the world. Her skin was the color of a brown bare, her hair the color of fire, and when she turned around briefly to talk to someone, he saw that her eyes were as green as emeralds. He never had seen a girl of her kind before, and he moved closer in the bushes as he wanted a better look.
Rashida looped the rope through the handles of the jug and lowered it into the well to fill it up. She sensed someone was watching her, yet when she raised her head to look around, she saw nothing. With a shrug, she went back to her work and pulled on the rope to pull the jug back up, but it was heavy. With a grunt, she tried again. Her hands gripped the rope tight as she tried to pull the jug out, but it didn’t move as much as she wanted it to. When she pulled again, the wheel at the top of the well broke, and the weight of the water-filled jug jerked her forward.
She gasped, her body jolted as her stomach slammed into the hard stone surrounding the well. A soft whimper left her lips as she teetered on the edge, half of her calling into the well and half of her fighting to not. Every jerk of the jug pulled her deeper in, and she knew that if she fell in, then there was no way to get out. Her mind worked to find a way of escape, and she decided that the jug wasn’t that important. Her life was. Slowly, she let go of the rope. She misjudged the weight.
Though she had let it go, the rope wrapped around her arm, ready to yank her in. A scream poured from her lips as she felt herself being pulled inside. Her eyes closed tightly as she waited for death to come and to feel the cold splash of water upon her face. But it never came.
Instead, strong arms wrapped around her waist. She heard a grunt and slowly, she felt herself being pulled out of the well. Her eyes opened and she looked at the person who had saved her and found herself looking into the blue eyes of a boy not much older than she was.
“Are you alright?” the boy asked. “Did you get hurt?”
“I…I am fine…” Rashida stammered, still in shock. “H-How did you…”
He grinned shyly. “I saw you almost fall in. I couldn’t let that happen.”
“You have my gratitude,” she said. She turned back to look into the well, but the jug had already disappeared. “The Mistress is going to be very angry with me.”
“I highly doubt that,” the boy said.
“What makes you think that?” she asked.
“Because she is my mother,” he said with a grin.
Rashida was shocked by this revelation, and instantly, she dropped down to her knees before him. “F…Forgive me, Master,” she stammered. “Forgive my forwardness.”
Alrik bent down and lifted her up. “I have nothing to forgive you for, as you have done no wrong.”
He looked her over and a warmth bubbled within his body at being so close. She was more beautiful than he imagined. He tried to not stammer, to not make himself seem like a fool before her.
“I am Alrik,” he said, as he dipped his head in greeting.
“Rashida,” she said back, her head bowed the same way. “Thank you, Master Alrik.”
He smiled. “Just Alrik is fine with me. And Rashida…that is an interesting name. You are one of the newer servants, am I correct?”
“Yes, Ma—” she corrected herself. “Yes, Alrik.”
“Where do you come from?” he asked. “And what did you do there?”
Rashida looked at the well. The jug was gone and she had finished all her other chores. A little free time should be alright, she figured. So, she told him of her past life in Egypt: the death of her parents, her training to become a priestess, the raiding, and the slave auction.
“How did you learn our language so quickly?” he asked as they walked in the woods.
“I have always been able to learn them quickly,” she explained. “In the temple, the other priestesses would applaud me, saying I had a gift for tongues.”
“And this goddess you worshiped,” he said, “her name was Basket?”
“Bastet,” she chuckled. “Bastet was her name. She is the goddess of cats, love, protection, music, dance and family.”
“She sounds like Freya,” Alrik said, thinking this over.
“Who?” Rashida asked with a tilt of her head.
“Our primary goddess,” he explained. “She is the one to go to for most of what you said. And she loves cats too. Her chariot is said to be pulled by two giant ones in times of battle.”
“Seems that we have similarities in our lives,” Rashida said with a smile.
“Yes,” Alrik said with a smile back. “It seems it does.”
✯✯✯✯✯✯✯
The days that followed were a series of ups and downs for Rashida and her siblings. They worked hard for their new owners and Rashida found comfort in spending time with Alrik, who equally loved to spend time with her. Whenever Rashida was finished with her chores, they would run off into the woods, lay in the soft grass and walk about their pasts.
Alrik loved to learn about Egypt, just like Rashida loved to learn about her new home. She learned that the village she was now in was called Safirinnsjø, which in their language meant Sapphire Lake because of the large lake that opened into a river. The village was perfectly placed, as it was wealthy from trade and the fertile land that wasn’t far.
He also helped her learn his language, correcting her if she pronounced something wrong, and she taught him Egyptian, though Alrik found it hard to get right. He wasn’t a quick learner like she was. An unyielding friendship rapidly formed between them. One that both knew would survive until the end of time. Yet, Rashida knew something was wrong at times.
While Ingrid tried to keep a happy face, a firm face, she couldn’t hide her inner hurt. Rashida could sense it. It wasn’t hard for her. She had always been empathic to others’ emotions and Ingrid was no different.
One night, Ingrid called for Rashida to brush her hair before she went to bed. Alone. Rashida obeyed, yet the moment she touched Ingrid’s head, she was seized by a vision. She saw a young Ingrid, surrounded by many children, with a man at her side who was smiling at her. The vision began so bright, so happy, but soon became quite dark.
The sunshine and joy quickly melted away, and pain with sorrow replaced it. She saw Ingrid surrounded by several bodies wrapped in clo
th, her belly heavy with child as she covered herself with ashes, screaming for her dead children. The man wasn’t in this part of the vision. Instead, he didn’t appear until much later in an argument with Ingrid.
“How could you do this to me?” Ingrid was yelling at him. “How could you do this to your son? You bring this whore into our home?”
“This doesn’t concern you!” the man was yelling back at her. “You do not know your place!”
“My place?” Ingrid said mockingly. “I am your wife, Henrik. I have stood by your side when others wanted to betray and abandon you. What has this whore done?”
The word ‘whore, whore, whore’ echoed in Rashida’s ears. She saw a flash, a glance of a blond-haired woman who was smiling. Then she heard the cry of a baby, the flash of a knife, Alrik covered in blood and the scream of Ingrid. Rashida finally let go of Ingrid. Her legs buckled as she dropped to her knees, panting to catch her breath.
“Rashida?” Ingrid said as she turned around to look at the girl. “What is it, child?”
“She is going to have a son,” Rashida said before she could stop herself. “Soon. You and your son are not safe.”
“Stop. Stop. Stop,” Ingrid said. “Slow down, girl, what are you talking about? Who is going to have a son?”
“Gala,” Rashida said. “She is going to have a son. You and your son aren’t safe.”
Ingrid listened carefully. “Who…Who told you about Gala?”
“I…I saw it,” Rashida explained. “My lady…I can sometimes see the future. It happened in Egypt and I thought that they had stopped…now I see they haven’t.”
“What do you normally see?” Ingrid asked.
“It depends, my lady,” Rashida answered. “I saw…the raiding of my village in Egypt and that came true. If I saw what I did about you…”
Ingrid pulled away. Her mind was trying to make sense of what Rashida had said. Most of the village knew of Gala, but this girl was new. There wasn’t any way for her to know this. And yet…
“The fate of my son,” Ingrid pressed. “And me?”
“I saw blood, a knife,” Rashida answered. “But that is only if you stay here. If you stay in this village.”
“So, if we leave…we will be safe?” Ingrid asked.
Rashida nodded. “But…I got a feeling that you would be safe in coming back later…but right now, you both are in terrible danger.”
Ingrid nodded and sighed heavily. “Thank you, Rashida, you may go now.”
She watched as the young girl left her room and Ingrid stood up, turning to the bed. It was empty again; she would be the only one in it. She knew her husband would be with Gala like he had always been ever since the girl announced that she was carrying his child.
Ingrid was no fool. She knew that Gala was power hungry and would stop at nothing to make sure she came out on top. She couldn’t take Rashida’s words for granted. She couldn’t ignore these warnings.
✯✯✯✯✯✯✯
For the next couple of weeks, the home was quiet, though everyone could sense that something was wrong. Jarl Henrik, though Rashida had seen him only twice, hardly talked to anyone, and Ingrid kept mainly to herself. As for Alrik, he looked for company with the young Egyptian and their times of laying in the grass and talking never stopped. Instead, they increased, as the young man couldn’t talk to either parent. Instead, he felt as if they were shutting him out.
Rashida was always there, always one to listen, and he always felt a powerful sense of comfort whenever she was around. One day, however, when he went to go see her, he brought something with him: a gift.
“I have something for you,” he said to her, as he held out the item.
“What is it?” Rashida asked as she looked it over.
It was a bronze armlet, simple in shape, but just the thought of him giving it to her brought tears of joy to Rashida’s eyes.
“A promise,” Alrik said. “Rashida…my mother is taking me away. But I swear to you by the god Odin, that I will be back.”
“What?” she gasped as she raised her eyes to his. “W…Why?”
“Because Gala has given birth to a son,” he said sadly. “And is pushing my father for marriage.”
“Why can’t he marry her and still be with your mother?” Rashida asked.
Being from Egypt, she knew that the wealthy sometimes had more than one wife. Or sometimes they had one main wife and several concubines. Such a thing wasn’t uncommon for her understanding, however, Alrik shook his head.
“That would be frowned upon by the gods,” he explained. “So, my mother is going to divorce my father.”
“Divorce?” Rashida repeated. Her mouth worked to understand the unfamiliar word.
“It means that they are no longer married,” Alrik said sadly. “And my mother wants to do this as soon as possible.”
“What will happen to you?” Rashida asked.
Alrik shrugged. “I do not know, but I promise you this: I am coming back. That armlet is for you to remember me by, and while I am gone, I will make you another one. I…I really like you, Rashida.”
Rashida couldn’t help but blush. “I…I really like you too…Alrik.”
Carefully, Alrik took the armlet and slid it up her arm. Then, he gripped her chin and gently gave her a chaste kiss on the lips. It wasn’t a romantic kiss at all, but it was a kiss nonetheless.
“I must go now,” he said as he stood. “But know that I always keep my promises.”
He smiled at her softly one last time before he turned around and rushed away. He didn’t look back. Alrik knew that if he looked back to the girl he had grown to care for, then he wouldn’t want to leave, but he had to leave. Yet, his promise was real. He was going to come back for her one day.
Chapter Four: A New Flash of Fate
A slim, blond-haired woman walked up the stairs of the Jarl’s house. In her arms, a gurgling baby boy lay wrapped in cloth. Gala’s grey eyes roamed over the servants that were assembled before her, her lips fighting to keep from curving into a smirk. It had finally happened; she was now the Jarl’s wife. It took some pushing, but in the end, what was rightfully hers came to be.
Rashida watched as Gala looked down the line of servants before she walked into the house, a trail of her own maids behind her. The young girl couldn’t help but frown deeply. This was the woman who had driven Ingrid away. This was the woman who had driven Alrik away.
“So, that is she, our new Mistress,” Rashida whispered to Kaya.
“Aye,” Kaya said with a nod as they all walked back into the house. “That is she.”
“I hope our lives do not change that much,” Rashida mumbled to herself.
She was wrong, as all the servants quickly learned the next month.
Gala was a demanding woman who seemed to need two things to survive: wine and sex. Her goblet was always filled, and she was always in Henrik’s bed. Though her son was less than a couple of months old, rumors had already spread that she was with child again. Gala was no fool. She knew she wasn’t a warrior like Ingrid, so she offered the only thing a woman could offer: her womb.
Life under Gala was a lot different than life under Ingrid. Every morning, Gala demanded that hot water be brought to her chambers for her to bathe. She had to be fanned always, whenever she was seated. Her hair and clothes had to be in the best condition. A speck of dirt and she would descend into a tantrum. Rashida wondered how the Jarl could handle her, but then she remembered that Gala always had her legs open for him. Still, to her, that couldn’t be worth the cost of his first wife and son.
One morning, as Rashida was pouring the hot water into the massive copper tub that Gala bathed in, her new Mistress stopped her.
“You there,” Gala said. “Girl. You were the newest addition to this house?”
“Yes, Mistress,” Rashida said solemnly, her head bowed. “I was.”
Gala looked the girl over, her eyes narrowed in clear judgment. From what she could tell, the girl had young beauty
, but it wasn’t in full bloom yet. She was no rival as of this moment.
“What was life like under Ingrid?” Gala asked.
“The Mistress treated my siblings and I well, my lady,” Rashida said, still quite solemn, though she wondered where the woman was headed with this.
“How old are you?” Gala asked.
“I will be nearing my 14th summer,” Rashida answered.
“Still young then,” Gala said as she reached for her sponge. “Tell me about your past. Where are you from?”
“A place called Egypt, my lady,” Rashida responded. “It is far away from here, and I was a priestess.”
Gala stopped, her head tilted with inquiry. “A priestess?”
“Yes, my lady,” Rashida said with a nod.
“So, that must mean that you can see into the future then,” Gala said.
Rashida nibbled on her lip. “Erm…”
Gala glanced at her. “Can you, or can’t you?”
Rashida was stuck. She didn’t want to tell this woman the truth about her gift, yet she knew that if she didn’t, then her life would be forfeit if Gala found out the truth otherwise. Just as she was about to open her mouth, another servant came in and asked Rashida for her help in something. Exhaling in relief, she whispered a silent prayer of thanks to Bastet before Rashida rushed off.
Gala watched the red-headed slave rush off with narrow eyes. She knew the girl was hiding something, but she didn’t know what. However, she had ways of finding out.
✯✯✯✯✯✯✯
Alrik grunted as he pulled on the rope. The weight of the wooden pole at the other end was heavy, but he knew that he had to get this pole set before the rain came. Not far from him, Ingrid was making arrows to go hunting. She wasn’t a master at the art of archery, but she was good enough, as she and Alrik needed food.
It had been a month since they had left Henrik’s territories, and at first, his father didn’t let them. He demanded that Ingrid stay. He said that she had a duty to their son and their people to stay. That she had made vows before the gods to always be at his side. Yet, Ingrid reminded him that he had broken his own vows, so what he said to her was very hypocritical.