by T S Florence
Not only was he the biggest and most charismatic, and most notorious man, but he was also the most handsome. And for some reason, this annoyed Hilda to no end. An inner part of her felt that he had outgrown her. That he still saw her as a girl. She had never been given an opportunity to grow up with him, or even on her own. He had left her behind.
“That wasn’t a proper talk, you should try and hear his story. There might be more to it than you think,” Brenna said.
“He called me a foolish girl and a slave,” Hilda said to Brenna, “You are free now. You were freed when you were rescued, but I am still a slave,” Hilda said.
“You know that Ragnar doesn’t see you as a slave. He sees you very, very differently from that,” Brenna smirked.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Hilda asked, being so inexperienced with men.
“You’ll find out eventually,” Brenna laughed.
“Oh, you spend two nights with Torsten and now you are so experienced in the world?” Hilda asked, feeling annoyed.
“I guess so,” Brenna giggled, resting her head on Hilda’s shoulder.
Hilda rolled her eyes, but felt some embarrassment at Brenna’s comments. Hilda knew that she meant Ragnar saw her as someone he would want to lay with, but she did not understand why he would. She was a slave. She had been a slave to his family her entire life. And Ragnar was the warrior that all the girls wanted to be with, and who all men either feared or respected. He had never paid attention to the advances of other girls, and had treated Hilda like a friend.
Friend. Because that’s how he saw her, Hilda thought. He didn’t see her as more than that. Brenna simply didn’t know their relationship. She didn’t know their history. She didn’t know of the nights that Ragnar would spend lying next to her in her bed, telling her stories of adventure across the seas, where there were seas of sand that stretched as far as the eye could see - so far, in fact, that no man could cross them before dying of thirst.
Hilda found herself smiling at the memories of lying with Ragnar, falling asleep next to him, feeling protected from the outside world, with images of faraway adventures. I will take you with me, he told her. We will go on adventures together. Hilda believed him. She believed his promises of adventure and protection.
“Why are you smiling?” Ragnar had approached Hilda again, without her noticing, for she had been so immersed in her memories of her younger years with Ragnar.
Hilda noticed that Brenna was now preoccupied with Torsten, playing with the beads in his hair, giggling at the words he whispered into her ears. She felt able to speak more freely.
“I was thinking of when we were younger,” Hilda said.
Ragnar sat down next to her, careful not to step on her or squish her. There was not a lot of space on the boats with all of the men and cargo.
“Which memories were you thinking of?” Ragnar asked, frowning.
“When you would tell me stories of adventures and seas of sand,” Hilda replied.
“I remember. We would lie together and I would tell you stories until you would fall asleep,” Ragnar said.
Hilda rolled her eyes, “You fell asleep before me almost every night,” she replied.
“That’s not how I remember it,” Ragnar scratched at his beard.
“Obviously you’ve received too many blows to the head in battle,” Hilda said, looking at his head as if inspecting for evidence.
“You had trouble sleeping, so I would wait for you to sleep. I remember it clearly,” he said, frowning at her.
“Maybe I pretended to fall asleep to let you think you were doing a good job,” Hilda said.
“Never,” Ragnar put a hand on his chest, as if insulted.
“Your stories did help me sleep,” Hilda said, patting his arm.
She noticed a smile on his face as he patted his arm, and felt his eyes lock onto hers, like a wolf on its prey.
She turned away, only to notice Brenna and Torsten both smirking at them. They started laughing when Hilda looked at them.
“Mind your own business,” Ragnar said, throwing an apple at Torsten’s head.
“Sorry I can’t hear you through all of this tension,” Torsten replied.
Ragnar kicked Torsten’s leg, causing him to yelp and slide back, out of his reach.
“Stop it Ragnar,” Hilda said, though she was still embarrassed.
“Just looking out for you,” Ragnar said.
“I appreciate you taking me back from those vikings, but I do not need your constant protection. I did just fine without you for the past four years,” Hilda clipped.
“I am growing tired of this,” Ragnar said in a low voice, with a hard jaw.
“Oh, you’ve had a tiring few days have you?” Hilda asked, sarcastically.
Ragnar stood to his feet, and made his way back to the front of the boat, where he sat, watching the waves roll by.
Hilda felt a tinge of guilt for attacking him again, but the pain that she thought she had healed over the years had returned. Her wounds of Ragnar’s abandonment were beginning to reopen.
Ragnar
Patience, Ragnar thought to himself, knowing that Hilda was saying these things from a place of pain. He knew that no matter the words she said, or the things she did, she did not mean them. He looked at her. Her folded arms and sad expression told him that she disliked the confrontation as much as he did. He thought back to the times they were teenagers, before he had ruined everything. Before he had left for her home country without her.
He was 18 years old then, and he was stupid. He did not ask questions, he simply got on the boat and left with a band of vikings, with hopes of taking the world for their own. And that is exactly what they did. He remembered the words he said silently to himself, as he looked at Hilda, as she walked away from him, before he boarded the boat that took him away from her.
Four years earlier
Hilda had not spoken to Ragnar for the entire week, ever since she had found out he was intending to leave. He had known for months before, but had been too afraid to tell her. It was Elder Ragnar who finally told Hilda, forcing him to confront the issue.
When Hilda found out, she had chased him though a field, throwing rocks at him, and swung his wooden training sword at him when she got close enough. Finally, Ragnar stopped running, and let her hit him with the wooden sword.
“What are you doing, Hilda, what did I do this time?” Ragnar had asked, blocking the sword with his forearm from hitting his head. There was always something Ragnar was doing that made Hilda angry. This time, however, he could tell it was something serious.
“Elder Ragnar told me,” Hilda cried, dropping the sword to the ground.
Ragnar’s stomach tightened into a ball. “Told you what?”
“You’re leaving me,” tears streamed down her cheeks.
“He had no right,” Ragnar had growled.
“How long have you known?” Hilda asked, ignoring him.
“Not long,” Ragnar lied.
“How long?” Hilda stepped towards him, with balled fists.
“A little while,” Ragnar said.
Hilda hit him in the chest, causing a light thud.
“Three months. Since the beginning of winter,” Ragnar said.
“If you go I will never forgive you,” Hilda said, looking at him.
“I will come back, Hilda,” Ragnar pleaded.
Hilda shook her head, and ran into the forest, yelling at Ragnar to leave her alone. Eventually, he did. For even with all of his stubbornness, he knew that he would not create anything but more pain. He never had the right words to say with Hilda.
The rest of the week she stayed silent, speaking only occasionally to Ragnar’s parents.
“You can’t let me go without saying a single word,” Ragnar said to Hilda, on the day that he was leaving, as they stood in front of the great fleet of boats,
Hilda looked him in his eyes, her face red. She stayed silent.
He wrapped his arms around her,
hugging her tight, yet she did not respond. He dipped his head down, smelling her hair, and kissed her crown. Hilda kept her arms at her side.
“I will come back,” Ragnar said.
He stepped back to look at her, but she did not say a word. She turned and walked towards the pathway that led back to his home. Their home.
Ragnar gripped his axe and stepped onto the boat.
Present day
“What town did you grow up in?” Ragnar asked Hilda, as the sun began to peek over the horizon.
“Why do you want to know?” Hilda asked, looking at him.
“We will go there first,” he said.
“What if I don’t want to?” Hilda replied, playing with the hem of her dress, nervously.
“We can see if your family is there. Your English family,” Ragnar said, quietly.
“I wouldn’t even know what they look like,” Hilda replied quietly, looking at Ragnar uncertainly.
“Well… you have their names, don’t you?” Ragnar asked.
“I suppose,” Hilda said.
“So, what is your English name?” Ragnar asked.
“I don’t want to tell you. Not yet. I want to get to England before I get ahead of myself,” Hilda replied.
“Tell me where you are from, at least,” Ragnar said.
“Kingston,” Hilda replied.
“We will go to Kingston,” Ragnar looked at the English coast line that was now in clear view. They would soon pass the English boarder from Scotland, and would pass the kingdom of Newcastle before dark. That night, the rest of the boats turned and headed for Newcastle. This left Ragnar with one boat and thirty men, and Hilda and Brenna. Ragnar had instructed his men to tell Ivar of his whereabouts, but did not give them further detail on his reason why.
“Do you remember where your house was?” Ragnar asked Hilda, as they lay in the boat, watching the stars.
“Yes. We owned an estate outside of the main castle,” Hilda replied.
“Your family was wealthy?” Ragnar asked, his eyebrows raised.
“Does that surprise you?” Hilda asked, frowning.
“No, actually,” Ragnar responded.
“My father was a wool merchant. And my mother would make clothes out of the wool. They made good money,” Hilda said.
“That explains it,” Ragnar said.
“Explains what?” Hilda asked.
“The clothing you wore on the day you arrived in Fyrkat,” Ragnar said, more to himself.
“You remember that?” Hilda asked.
“Of course. Like it was yesterday,” he said mildly.
Ragnar enjoyed the warmth of Hilda’s body as he lay next to her, happy that she had accepted his offer to lay on his great bear skin with him. He could still feel that her body was stiff, probably from discomfort at being so close to him after all of this time.
“Do I make you uncomfortable?” Ragnar asked.
“Uncomfortable? No. But being near you is strange,” Hilda said quietly.
Ragnar flinched at her words, feeling a rawness in her words. Hilda had never hesitated to tell him how she felt, even if it meant causing arguments. Eventually, she fell asleep, and the sound of her steady breathing caused Ragnar to fall asleep as well.
4
Hilda
Hilda woke with her head on Ragnar’s chest, and jumped when she realised how close they had gotten in the night. Nostalgic memories from their teenage years filled her sleepy head of when he would sleep next to her. His arms wrapped around her, his body protecting her from the wind. Despite the cold air, Ragnar’s body was still warm, like the coals from a fire in the early morning. She sat upright and moved herself away, scared of allowing herself to get too close.
She looked at his face. His long hair fell across his face, reaching down to his shoulder. She looked at his slightly crooked nose, from being broken during a training session before he had left her in Fyrkat. He was not scowling in his sleep, she noticed.
He was not the same Ragnar that left all those years ago. The smiling, laughing, and playful Ragnar was not there. Instead, there was a cold, hard man, who expected men and women alike to take his order without question. She wondered if it was years of battle and killing that caused him to become distant and calloused. She looked out to the ocean and was shocked to see how close they were to land. The castle of Kingston was so close that she could see people moving about on the ramparts.
Hilda gently shook Ragnar’s shoulder, causing him to stir. “Who the f- oh,” Ragnar grumbled, but stopped himself, as he realised who was waking him “Hilda, what is it?” Ragnar, rubbed his eyes.
“We’re very close to land,” Hilda said.
Ragnar jumped up from his bear fur and began to kick men awake.
“Who is supposed to be on lookout?” He growled to his men, as he walked along the sleeping bodies, kicking them awake, one by one.
“Get on the oars and steer us into the harbour,” he continued, as he made his way to the front of the boat.
The men grumbled and argued with each other, as they pushed each other out the way, fighting for the closest oar. Not a word was argued back to Ragnar, however.
The wharf of Kingston was bustling with people loading great sacks on and off boats. Cats chased mice and rats amongst barrels and boxes and sacks, while children played games, and men sold fish from stands.
A young boy ran to the edge of the wharf, raising his hands to signal that he would catch their rope and tie them in against the wharf. Ragnar threw the boy the rope, who pulled hard, and wound it around a heavy iron block.
“Good lad,” Ragnar said, throwing the boy a thin bracelet, worth far more than the work he had just done.
“This is too much, sir,” the boy said.
“Keep it,” Ragnar said.
“Are you a viking?” The boy asked, with wide eyes.
“I am just a man,” Ragnar growled, ruffling the boys hair.
Ragnar took Hilda’s hands, and helped her onto the wharf. Torsten did the same for Brenna.
“This is your home?” Brenna said, looking at Hilda.
“It was,” Hilda said to Brenna.
They went into the town, which was far different from what Hilda remembered. When Ragnar was arguing with a man over the price of some weapons he had on display, Hilda went to an old priest that was standing out the front of the church.
“Hello father,” Hilda said, enjoying speaking in English.
“Hello my child,” The priest said.
“I have come to you hoping that you can answer a question for me,” Hilda said.
“I will do my best,” the priest replied.
“Have you been in Kingston for long?” Hilda asked.
“All of my life,” The priest replied.
Hilda did not recognise the man, but she was sure she would not recognise many people, for she was only eleven years old when she was taken, ten years earlier.
“Do you remember a family by the last name Draper?” Hilda asked.
“The wealthy wool merchants? Husband and wife…” the priest said.
“Yes,” Hilda said excitedly, fighting to contain her emotion.
“Yes, a sad story. The family was never seen again after the viking raids,” the priest said.
“What about the wife and son?” Hilda asked.
“Not since the night of the great raids,” The priest replied. “Why do you ask?” He said.
“Their daughter was a childhood friend,” Hilda replied defeatedly.
“Ah. Well, vikings being vikings, she would have been sold into slavery. I doubt she is alive today. I’m sorry girl,” the priest said.
A cold sweat broke out across Hilda’s neck at his words. “Thank you, father,” she said.
“Did you have any luck?” Ragnar asked.
“No, but I would like to see if my house still stands,” Hilda replied quietly.
Ragnar rented some horses from the stables, and left the rest of the crew by the ship, along with Torsten and
Brenna. They rode a short way to where Hilda’s house once stood. Now, there was a wheat field. Her childhood home was gone.