by L. E. Waters
The chieftain asks, “Tell me the status of the settlement on Iona?”
Konr begins, “We have secured the—”
A great crashing in the post interrupts the report as Orm runs out, holding his groin and bloody head. He comes out screaming toward the warriors as the she-man charges out after him. Her wrists are still tied, but she has the shop stick in her grasp, swinging it around dangerously. She chases after him, her muscular legs now free from ropes.
Orm shrieks as he runs for cover. “She bucked like a wild mare! She’s out to kill me!”
The warriors drop their sacks and raise up their swords. Her indigo eyes blaze with careless fury, and she grunts as she swings at anyone who challenges her. All villagers seek refuge in stores or houses as I find safety with Thora behind the wagon. Warriors stand to hold their positions, yet none brave going against her.
The chieftain brings his hands up in the air and says, “What thrall here is from Iona?”
The thrall who drove Thora’s wagon stands up.
The chieftain nods to him. “Translate for me.” He looks at the she-man with his jaw clenched and speaks. “I greatly misjudged you, shield-girl. You’re not destined to be a thrall. The valkyries, Goddesses of War and Choosers of the Slain, have sent you. You will fight beside me and bring us great victory!”
The thrall translates to her, and she seems surprised to hear her own tongue. She calms slightly and looks around her at the village, then says something back.
The thrall repeats, “Does she have a choice?”
“Everyone has a choice.” The chieftain smiles. “There is always death for all of us.”
The she-man rests her stick down, takes a deep breath, and the thrall translates. “She will fight, but bed no man.”
He laughs. “After nearly castrating Orm, I can promise no man will ever try.” The whole village laughs and she nods. “Tie her feet, then, and give her my small house in town for her own.”
When a few scared men hold up ropes and start to approach her, she yells, “I thought I was no slave!”
Toke replies, “No slave, but you will have to remain tied until you have shown your loyalty in battle. I cannot turn my back on you yet.”
She looks angry but allows the nervous men to approach and tie her legs. As she shuffles away to the house, Toke yells, “I will give you the name Gunhilda: shield-girl.” He points to his blacksmith and says, “Make her the finest armor and weaponry.”
Dalla seems upset and turns on Toke. “She will get her own house and the finest things and not have to share her bed?”
The chieftain chuckles. “Do not be jealous Dalla; you get to have all the pleasure.”
He dives into the space between her neck and shoulders and grunts away as her eyes stare blankly up to the sky. He pulls her back into the house with him and shuts the door.
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Next week Thora has me take the reins and bring the team into Hedeby. It’s Saturday, the day the whole village takes a bath. Thora has Erna on her lap, flapping her chubby little arms in excitement of being on the wagon for the first time. I try not to get distracted by her since I’m trying my best not to hit the side of the road and throw a wheel. Erna gurgles up a storm and makes us both laugh at the troll sounds she’s making.
Once in the village, we make our way down the large bathhouse by the shore. The thralls are already busy, coming in and out with steaming buckets of water. The noble class stands in line first, and Thora knows to wait until her class is allowed to line up. By the time Thora can go, I help her in and hold Erna. As she undresses, I stare into the murky water. I turn my eyes while she gets in and look only when her chin is sitting on top of the water.
“That is clean water?” I scrunch my nose, happy that thralls are not allowed in.
“At least it’s warm. I’m not going to drink it.” She smiles as she swims her hands through the deep water. The tub is constructed like a giant barrel and looks as if you can fit a whole family in it.
“Hand me Erna.” She puts her arms up, and I step on the last ladder rung to hand the naked, fat baby to her.
Erna squeals in delight at being submerged, and I say, “She’s going to get sick from being in there.” I’m happy with my rag baths in the morning after Hela warms up a pot of water for us. “You will need to wash off after you get home.”
I turn away as she stands up and hold the linen cloth out for her with my eyes closed.
“From now on you will take the team in on Saturdays. I don’t like the way the other thrall watches me.” Thora shivers. “Gives me goose skin just thinking of it.”
I help her and Erna up into the wagon as another warship comes in. The warriors get off with great noise. This time Toke’s first off the ship. He motions for the four men behind him to carry his things to the bathhouse. As soon as he comes up, he claps and shouts, “Empty the whole bath for your chieftain!”
Thralls go running as a huge whoosh of water comes flooding out of the raised foundation of the bathhouse. I try to think of what they must have done to empty it so quickly, and then I remember seeing that large iron cap at the bottom. The thralls immediately go shuffling about with steaming buckets again.
“Good you were not in there when he came home,” I say quietly to Thora.
A great stir comes from the jetty, and again we see four men carry Gunhilda like a roped pig. As soon as they pass Chieftain Toke, he stops them with his hand out, and they lay her on the ground.
She looks up, half-interested, as he says, “You have honored me in battle and out-killed all my other warriors. If you had returned to your chieftain’s side and not gone off, slashing your way across the countryside where my men had to hunt you down again, well then, you would not have to come like a slayed stag.”
She picks her head up. “Where’s my sack of loot?”
He motions the men to take her to her house. “You show me that you’re a Viking, and I will let you keep your riches.”
She begins kicking and squirming, causing the four men to stumble and hit the ground. One man kicks her hard, making her still again, and they carry her out of sight. Toke commands his servants to take his plunder away and begins to disrobe even before reaching the privacy of the bathhouse.
Thora turns to me, laughing slightly, and says, “Let’s get home.”
We are both happy that Rolf did not return on that ship.
Chapter 6
Two years pass without much change except for how fast Erna is growing. My days are spent running around after her, keeping her from the dangers of the farm while Thora works. Whenever Erna spins off away from me, Borga notices and brings her back to me by pecking at her gently until she runs back. Erna dances like a little nymph, twirling around in the crop fields. Thora comes to find us after her weaving is done. She holds our hands, as we make our own fairy circles in the wheat. Then we fall back with our arms out and look up at the busy clouds drifting past. On rainy days, we sit inside by the fire and throw peas into a far-away bowl, laughing when they fall out and Borga eats them up happily.
My nights are spent with Una and Hela, which are just as pleasant. Una and I help pluck or debone our supper as Hela tells us stories about her village back in Scotland. It’s a terrible day for us when the chieftain sends a servant to come and take Hela away. The oldest woman in the village has died, and now Hela is the oldest. The oldest woman in the village, freeman or not, is deemed supernatural and given the honorary position of the Angel of Death. She will now be given her own house and her own thralls to assist her in preparing all the dead for burial. Thora tells me that we should be proud of her, but Una and I miss her in our little dugout. We have to fend for ourselves now, and I make sure to stay close to Una. We build one high bed of straw, and I share my blanket with her.
One day, Erna gets away from me while I’m collecting eggs, and she stumbles upon a mother goose’s eggs. She runs out with the white goose on her head, darting this way and that with the bird peck
ing at her hair all the while. I quickly shoo her off, but Una and I roll in laughter all night and whenever we tell the story. Erna gives Borga much more respect after that, and she never eats an egg ever again.
Una and I are cooking a stew over the fire, and as she tastes the stew, the glow of the fire dances all over her perfectly structured face. A pang hits deep in my stomach; Una’s not simply a pretty girl like I’ve known, but now that she’s growing so, I notice she’s much more. She will soon attract the attention of men—men who are her masters—men who will make her into another Dalla. She’ll be sent away to the highest bidder, to sit in her house in silks and wait for her master to come knocking, just as Dalla does. I feel so sick to my stomach, I tell her I have to go to bed without eating. I pull my legs up to my chest, trying to fall asleep before she lies down, wondering if I can ever own anything in this life.
I hear Borga honking that an intruder is outside. I get out of my blanket and see her glowing purple-white in the darkness; wings flapping and her beak open as rocks are pelted at her.
I call out, “Who’s there!”
I hear only snickering and many feet shuffling off in reply. The moon is three quarters full, bright with a cloudless night, making the barley fields easy to see. Whatever is there dives into the barley, and I watch as the things disappear in the three-foot-tall plants. They leave a trail to follow as the three crisscross and zigzag through the crop.
As they begin to come back toward me, I yell, “Get out of here!” and leap into the barley to run after the closest one.
They run twice as fast with much grunting and strange panting noises and then completely disappear. I turn in a circle in the sea of barley, waiting for some movement, but none comes.
“Liam!” I hear from behind me.
I know it’s Thora’s voice immediately and run toward her. At the edge of the crop in a horse paddock, she lies there holding her round stomach and cries, “Seamus! Seamus!”
Then something comes charging out of the woods. A beast, three times the height of the tallest horse and three times as long, rumbles forth with tree trunks for legs and a snake for a nose.
Thora screams, “Mother!”
The thing stomps at Thora and blows its snake in the air, making a powerful, thundering noise—as I freeze.
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There’s a great feast for the equinox, and everyone gathers for the festival in the village. Una and I are allowed to come, but we have to follow the family behind the wagon for the long way into town. Una has been to a festival before, and she says the walk is worth it, plus there’s a bright, full moon tonight. I have to lock Borga up in the dugout, and Una and I laugh when we can still hear her from the fence of the farm. The wagon, even with Inga, her children, Thora, Erna, and Rolf, is still much faster than Una and I can keep up with. After six farms, we let it go on as we walk quickly. All of the warning fires are lit across the hilltops and over the water, with a deep red sky simmering behind, making everything seem so fantastical.
By the time we reach the towers, most of the town is already full. The guards look everyone over as they roll or stride by. I gather they’ve already started their own celebrations with the great quantity of mead I can smell from all the way down here.
As we are walking by, one of the guards sees Una and yells, “I think I need to personally check that one. Come up here, girl!”
The other one laughs as Una keeps walking through, ignoring them, but the guard pours his bowl of mead down onto both of us. We start to run as we follow the line of torches and regroup by the fire in the center of the Great Hall.
“Now if we rolled around in manure, we would smell just like the guards!” I shout over the noise and laugh, wiping the mead out of my eyes.
She smiles. “Shh! Listen to the music!”
There are a few men playing bone flutes of all different sizes, whistling together in a light, fast melody. When the song ends, everyone in the circle claps while people pass behind us, pushing us into those standing in front of us. It’s like swimming in a crashing sea, trying to keep from colliding against the rocks. The door to the Great Hall opens, and out comes Chieftain Toke with his wife and many children. Right before the door can close, Dalla emerges and stands behind his family.
He begins, “Tonight we celebrate the solstice. Now is the time for planting and renewal to begin. Thor has given us a full moon to celebrate, and our seeds will sprout in half the time!” He picks the still, white, he-goat up in the air, as its bloody neck hangs limp down toward the fire. “We must all sacrifice to Thor and thank him for all that we have and all that we wish to have!”
Everyone cheers as he passes the goat off to a thrall who places it along with the other sacrificed animals on the scaffold outside the Great Hall. Toke claps and yells out, “Bring me my valkyrie! The gods and goddess want her here!”
Some laugh as they see her brought, yet again, bound at her legs and arms, but she looks rather comfortable now. She’s placed on the ground before Toke and, with the fire behind her, still looks fierce, even bound as she is. Some step back, making it a semicircle now.
Toke looks down into her strange eyes. “The gods are telling me that tonight is the night I should trust you.”
Gunhilda smirks.
Toke squints, one eye wider than the other. “You are not going to run this time, or I will kill you myself.”
Gunhilda still keeps her smirk but pulls her arms up to cut the bindings. Everyone holds their breath as he pulls out his ornate sword, brings the sword over his head, and chops the rope. Gunhilda barely flinches. She lies back on her freed hands, brings up her bound legs, and holds them so stiff that one slice of the sword cuts the rope. The crowd moves back even more as the giant woman slowly stands.
She strides to the far edge of the circle and snatches a large horn from a small man’s grasp. Gunhilda throws the beer back in her gurgling mouth and then begins kicking up her legs in an odd way. Toke laughs immediately, relaxing the crowd, and he starts clapping as the whole circle joins in. The flutes find a rhythm to match, and her legs seem possessed as the top of her body stays straight and stiff. She twirls around in circles, and I see Erna across the way dancing to the beat. Gunhilda comes around to her, and my heart stops when she sweeps her up and spins around the circle with her giggling away, clapping. I can breathe again when she sets her down, but Erna keeps her hands in the air, hoping Gunhilda will come back to dance. The whole village seems to have gathered around to watch her. It’s the loudest clapping, whistling and cheering I’ve ever heard. I have to cover my ears to keep them from hurting, and move closer toward the chieftain’s throne, where it is slightly quieter.
Toke calls for Gunhilda and whispers to Dalla, who begrudgingly stands to give up the throne next to him. He pats for Gunhilda to come sit beside him like a favored hunting dog, then passes her a full horn, and they crash horns with a hearty laugh—Gunhilda emptying hers before Toke.
A man steps out of the circle now, and it takes some time for the clapping to die down before anyone can hear what he’s shouting. I recognize him as the holy man who saved me that terrible day, long ago. He looks greyer with the years, but since he is wearing the same robe, I remember.
He nods in respect to Toke and speaks with his hands behind his back. “Blessed festival to you and yours, Chieftain Toke.”
“It is so good of you to come out and thank our gods on this beautiful night, Ansgar.”
He smiles tightly and nervously scratches at his large mole beside his eye with a pasty white hand. “I do not come to praise your gods, Chieftain, but I do respect your festival.”
Toke laughs, allowing others to laugh along, then asks, “What will it take for you to love our gods too?”
“What will it take for you to accept only mine?” Ansgar seems to be challenging him.
Toke looks around to all of his people. “If you can prove that your one god is stronger than all of ours, then I will accept your
baptism.”
A hush comes over the packed crowd.
Ansgar seems to be prepared for this and replies, “My one God and I accept your challenge.” He looks around his setting, then puts a single finger up with an idea. “If I were to take that iron poker, red-hot from the fire, and carry it to you in my hand without any sign of damage, will you immediately convert?”
Toke nods confidently. Everyone holds their breath as the holy man bends down to lift the poker out of the fire and holds it up for everyone to see the glowing. He brings it down slowly into his open palm as the crowd stirs uncomfortably, hearing the sizzle. However, the holy man keeps his face straight and strides to Toke, who pinches his thin lips together in a smirk as he lifts the poker out of Ansgar’s hands.
The holy man spins around quickly, flinging his arms back and forth, then brings his hands up and proclaims, “A miracle of Christ!”
Toke stands up and orders Ansgar to hold them out for him to examine, front and back. Then he calls to the crowd. “See it for yourselves! No marks whatsoever!”
The crowd makes much noise as Ansgar walks around slowly for the whole crowd to witness.
However, I notice Gunhilda pointing to something on the ground and overhear her say, “He coated his hands in thick beeswax. There the molds lie on the ground.”
I look down to the shriveled-up fingers of wax and realize he has tricked the chieftain.
I ready myself for the guards to be set upon him, but Toke shushes Gunhilda. “Do you take me for a fool? Of course I knew what he had planned. But what a fantastic way for mass conversion! This will improve trade greatly.”
“But you are willing to be baptized for trade alone?”
He laughs with his head back, tries to cover his outburst with his hand but keeps snickering. “Little does he know this will be the seventh time I have been baptized. To a man with many gods, what is one more?” He keeps laughing. “Plus the Christians always give fine baptism gifts.”