by T S Florence
“Yes, master,” Hilda replied.
“Do not call me master,” Ragnar said.
“Then what shall I call you, master?” Hilda asked.
“I do not care. You call father Raggie,” Ragnar said.
Hilda fought herself from laughing when she heard Ragnar use the pet name she had made for his father, and kept a straight face, “But I do not see your father like an owner,” Hilda said, knowing that her words would sting Ragnar.
He flexed his jaw, staring at her with a dark expression, as if contemplating what to say.
“Very well, slave,” he said, before turning and walking towards the great hall.
Hilda was furious that Ragnar had called her slave. He had never done it before, when they were teenagers. It was as if they were equals, but now she could tell that the dynamic of their friendship had changed. It was more serious. She could feel the stakes of their relationship being set much higher.
She knew that it was only her fault that he had resorted to calling her slave, acknowledging that he would play the game she wanted to play.
3
Ragnar
Life in Fyrkat was returning to normal, and Ragnar was filled with nostalgia every day that they spent in the small fishing village. He was still filled with a sadness at the news of his mother, but he felt that this was not something he could speak to his father or Hilda about, for he had chosen to leave Fyrkat and go raiding instead of stay on the farm, like his father had wanted.
“I guess you will be heading back, soon,” Elder Ragnar said.
“Yes, my life is in England, with my blood warriors,” Ragnar said, with a tinge of regret.
“I understand,” his father said.
“I will take Hilda,” Ragnar said.
“You think I will let you, boy?” Elder Ragnar challenged him, disregarding that Ragnar was in fact a grown man, bigger than even himself.
“You still see her as a slave?” Ragnar asked his father.
“What makes you think I would let you take her?” Elder Ragnar continued.
“If you do not see her as a slave then she should be free to make her own choices. She has always wanted to go back to her home. And she deserves that,” Ragnar said to his father.
“You’re right,” Elder Ragnar smiled, as if satisfied with his son’s answer, and he glanced over to Hilda, who was sitting on the far side of the great hall speaking with Brenna besides a fire.
“You love her,” Elder Ragnar said.
“I do not-” Ragnar began to say, but his father interrupted, “You do. You’ve loved her since you first saw her. You were just a stupid boy and you didn’t know what it was. But your mother and I could tell. I am not surprised you came back for her,” Elder Ragnar said.
“I came back for all of you,” Ragnar replied.
“Of course,” his father said, wheezing a laugh.
“I will come back more often, father. You will rule as Earl in my place,” Ragnar said.
“Do not let me distract you from your path in life, son. You must do what you need to do. If that doesn’t involve Fyrkat, then I do not want you to come back,” His father said, with intensity.
Ragnar looked away this time, fighting to keep himself from becoming emotional, and instead looked at Hilda. Her golden locks were illuminated by the flames, causing shadows to dance around her face.
“I will come back,” Ragnar said.
Hilda looked over at Ragnar, but this time he did not look away. She stopped what she was saying and kept her gaze on Ragnar, and for the first time since he had received the news of the attack on Fyrkat, he felt his anger dissipate for just a moment. He had never known a more kind or smart woman. When he was younger, he was jealous of her cleverness. But as he grew older, he understood how important it was for a woman to be smart in this world, and he was happy for her.
Hilda raised her eyebrows at him, and Brenna started to stare as well.
“Tell her,” Elder Ragnar said to him.
Ragnar stood and walked the short distance to the hearth, where Hilda and Brenna were sitting.
“Have you come to apologise?” Hilda asked.
“For what?” Ragnar asked, feeling his anger return.
“You know what for,” Hilda said, looking at him.
“I came to tell you that I am leaving tomorrow. My duty here is done,” Ragnar said.
“Oh,” Hilda said, gripping at the side of her arm uncertainly.
“You can come as well, if you want,” Ragnar said.
Hilda’s cheeks became rosy as she stared silently at him, while obviously considering her answer.
“My home is Fyrkat now,” she said.
“But-” Ragnar began, but Hilda cut him off. “But what? But you promised to take me back to England? Well you broke that promise so you have no more obligations to me. Your father has always been good to me and has never abandoned me,” Hilda said.
“That’s not fair,” Ragnar growled.
“What you did wasn’t fair. Saying goodbye to your mother without you wasn’t fair. Being taken as your slave wasn’t fair,” Hilda clipped, before taking Brenna’s hand and walking over to Elder Ragnar, where she sat down with her back to Ragnar.
Ragnar’s mind was blank with shock from the words he had just received. He always knew how Hilda felt, but he did not anticipate her to be so angry when he returned. It was becoming clear to him that merely saving her from slavery to another man was not going to earn back her affection or trust. He sat by the hearth, throwing pieces of reed that lined the floor into the fire.
Hilda
“Still haven’t forgiven him?” Elder Ragnar said to Hilda, as she sat down with Brenna.
“I will never forgive him,” Hilda said, crossing her arms.
“Still, you should go home. See if you can find your mother and brother,” Elder Ragnar said.
Hilda felt her chest tighten with anxiety as she looked up to him. “You have already spoken with Ragnar?”
“I have. And I won’t have time for you here, anymore. You will be a nuisance while I am running this village. I want you to go,” He said.
“A nuisance? You know that I would give you better counsel than any man in this village,” Hilda rolled her eyes.
“You’re a damn young woman, you don’t know the world that well,” Elder Ragnar growled.
“I’m not going,” Hilda repeated.
“You’re going, or I’ll put you to hard labour,” Elder Ragnar said.
“You wouldn’t,” Hilda gasped.
“You wouldn’t survive a day of hard labour, either” Elder Ragnar laughed, before continuing, “Never has a slave lived a better life than their owner, until you,” he said.
Hilda knew it was true. Elder Ragnar was more like a father than her owner. He had always treated her with kindness and love. Part of her did not want to leave Elder Ragnar in Fyrkat, alone, and part of her was scared to leave him to go back to her home country.
“Fyrkat is no life for you, sweet Hilda, you deserve and need something bigger. Your mind needs something more. You must go home, or you will die a bitter old woman,” he said with more affection than before.
“I don’t want to leave you,” a sob escaped Hilda, which filled her with embarrassment.
Elder Ragnar
Elder Ragnar always knew his son would come back to Hilda, and he knew that when the time came, Hilda would betray her heart because her honour would stop her from ever leaving. He knew that he would have to push her away, to allow her to follow her heart. Despite himself. Despite rendering himself alone. And he knew that Earl was the loneliest path of them all.
“Have you got your blankets?” Elder Ragnar fussed, as he loaded Hilda’s belongings onto the boat.
“Yes Raggie,” Hilda smiled, as she bounced on her toes, at the end of the jetty.
Young Ragnar was jumping from boat to boat, giving orders to his men. Everyone who was leaving Fyrkat was now on the boats except for Hilda, and the other twenty men wh
o had volunteered to stay in Fyrkat. Because of the raids, many women were left without husbands, so these men chose to fill their places. Hilda was not yet on the boat, Elder Ragnar knew, because she wanted to stay with him until her very last moment. That was her loyalty.
“I want you to send word to the next boat leaving for the North,” Elder Ragnar said.
“I will send word every week,” Hilda said.
“I don’t think boats will leave every week, especially not in this weather,” Elder Ragnar pointed to the dark clouds.
“Well I will send word with every boat that goes. I will tell them to find the Great Earl Elder Ragnar of Fyrkat and send him my love,” Hilda said, her eyes filled with excitement and happiness.
Finally, the time came to leave. The furthest boats began to slowly row out to the open sea. Hilda jumped into his arms, crying and asking him if he was sure that he wanted her to go. No. I don’t want you to go. I am losing my son for the second time, and now I will lose you too. “Of course I’m sure, get on the boat you silly girl,” Elder Ragnar playfully pushed her head, directing her towards the boat.
He lifted her over the gap and into the boat, which Young Ragnar was in charge of. Hilda had objected riding in the same boat as him at first, but Young Ragnar said he would not let her come if she did not ride in his boat. Elder Ragnar laughed at this. He knew that Hilda would come around, for she loved his boy just as much as his boy loved her, maybe even more. But Young Ragnar wouldn’t know that. He did not see the heartbreak that she went through for the next eighteen months after he was gone. She was a shell of herself. And it wasn’t because she didn’t get to go back to England, he knew that. It was because she believed his son betrayed her.
Ragnar leaped from the boat to embrace his father as his boat was being untied.
“Be patient, my son. Be patient and be smart. She will come around. She loved you just as you loved her,” Elder Ragnar pushed his inner turmoil down, and projected strength, as he had always done.
“I will return, father,” Ragnar said.
“Only return if it is necessary. I don’t need you risking your life on the rough seas just to say hello to your old father,” Elder Ragnar replied.
“I will see you again,” Ragnar said, as he jumped onto the departing boat.
Once the boats had left the harbour and made it out onto the horizon, Elder Ragnar’s shoulders slumped down, and he felt his chest sink back into his body. When he entered the privacy of the Earl’s room, he broke down. He had lost his only happiness left in this world, but he must live on. This is how life goes, I suppose. You are born surrounded by love, and then you die alone.
Ragnar
Ragnar was surprised that Brenna had decided to come with Hilda. He suspected Torsten helped her make the decision. She sat with Hilda, who was teaching her some basic English words and prayers. He was also surprised at how interested Brenna was in learning about Hilda’s strange god. The English had an unhealthy devotion to their God, which made their people fearful of doing certain things, and do strange things, like going to sit in a church on a Sunday, where they listened to smelly old priests tell their stories.
Ragnar believed their god made them weak. Ragnar knew that all Christians expected to go to heaven, and not Valhalla, and in their heaven, there was no fighting, but only clouds and singing and angels and peace. It sounded boring. Not like Valhalla, where men died and went to drink fight every night in the great halls of the gods, with Odin and Thor, only to die and be reborn every day.
Ragnar considered his father’s words. She loved you just as you loved her. Patience. He looked at his golden-haired slave, her delicate features that had captivated him since the moment he first saw her on Fyrkat’s beach as a boy. From the moment he saw her, his protective instinct had kicked in, and he would not let anyone do anything to harm her. She was his advisor. She was his best friend. She was his. She was his slave. his.
Before Ragnar’s brain had caught up with his body, he found himself moving over to them, and sitting closer, so he could hear their conversation. Years of living in England had improved his English, allowing him to speak fluent. He would not have gotten as good as he had, if Hilda hadn’t taught him when they were teenagers.
“I’m teaching Brenna some of the English language,” Hilda said to Ragnar.
“And of your gods as well,” Ragnar said.
“Just one god,” Hilda replied.
“Sure,” Ragnar said, waving his hand.
“You never did care for learning about my god,” Hilda said, rolling her eyes, before she continued, “You were always too concerned with learning about your own gods, where you would be allowed to fight and drink in Valhalla.”
“That’s right, real gods,” Ragnar smiled at Hilda.
“My god is real,” Hilda shot backs a dark expression.
“What do you intend to do when you get to England?” Ragnar asked, changing the subject.
“Well whatever you are doing, as I am your slave,” Hilda said.
“You won’t be a slave in England,” Ragnar said.
Hilda’s eyes widened at Ragnar’s response, her face a mix of confusion.
“Well, I won’t be free, either. I have nothing,” Hilda said.
“Father told me you have a mother and brother,” Ragnar replied.
“That’s none of your business,” Hilda clipped.
“All those years we spent together, telling each other everything, yet you never told me of your family. But you tell my father?” Ragnar said, feeling himself becoming heated.
“Because I told him when I was ready. I told him when you were killing my countrymen,” Hilda said, turning to face him.
“Because the six years we spent together every single day wasn’t enough for you to be ready?” Ragnar growled.
“All you thought about was going to war, you wouldn’t have cared,” Hilda said.
“That’s foolish. You’re still a foolish girl,” Ragnar growled, turning away.
“I’m foolish?” Hilda laughed her question at him, before she stood up and moved in front of him, level with his eyes, so he couldn’t avoid her.
“Remember when you wanted to trade all of the farming equipment for that stupid axe that broke after only one week? Remember how angry Elder Ragnar was?” Hilda asked. “If it wasn’t for me you would have traded everything you had, because you were so stupid and obsessed with weapons,” she continued.
“All I remember is standing up for you when the man expected you to be beaten,” Ragnar smiled back.
“Of course, you bring my slavery back into it. Because you’re stupid,” Hilda glowered.
“Maybe I won’t free you,” Ragnar turned away to avoid her gaze.
“Oh, will you tie me up and drag me around like a slave?” Hilda asked, putting her hand on his cheek and pulling his face back towards her.
“Like a slave? You are a slave,” Ragnar said.
“I hate you Ragnar. I have hated you since the day you left. You know, your name Ragnar the Destroyer suits you. Ragnar the Destroyer of Promises,” Hilda pushed his chest as she rose to her feet and moved back to Brenna.
Ragnar felt the sting of her accusation, mainly because he knew it was true. He had left her. He abandoned her. He made a promise to her and he didn’t fulfil that promise. Patience, his father had told him. Be patient, he reminded himself.
Hilda
“Are you ok?” Brenna asked Hilda.
“He drives me mad. He came and sat near us just to pick a fight. He still knows exactly what to say to make me angry,” Hilda glowered, as she looked down and noticed that her hands were shaking.
“I don’t think it was his intention. I think you two need to sit down and really talk,” Brenna said, taking Hilda’s hand.
“We were talking just then, and you saw how it went,” Hilda said.
Part of Hilda was jealous that Ragnar had grown into a successful man. Where they had once been so close that they knew almost everything ab
out each other, when Ragnar was just a boy who spent the days wandering the mountains and fields surrounding Fyrkat with Hilda. Now, he was now a leader of men, with a horrible name. Ragnar the Destroyer.
He had grown into a devastatingly handsome man, with scars on his face that told a story of men who failed to kill him. His looked intimidated her; not the scars, but his handsomeness. He was more than the boy who left Fyrkat. Dark hair that flowed to his shoulders, which framed a face that painters would kill to have the opportunity to bring to life on a piece of canvas.