Liv shrugged her shoulders and then paused. “Wait. You mean he spanks you or he…” she held up a hand as if she was about to deliver an angry backhand.
“Oh, God's no! Not that. The first thing, but really hard, “she added ruefully.
“You have no idea how much trouble you’ve caused him, do you? You aren’t being stubborn, well, you aren't just being stubborn. You are clueless.” She spoke very slowly as you would when speaking to someone mentally infirm, “You...insulted...a Paladin in his own keep. That’s like spitting at the captain of a ship or defying general on the battlefield.”
“The Paladin insulted my husband!” Elin fired back.
“The military doesn’t work like that.”
They had reached the workshop, which thankfully was deserted. Elin wasn’t sure what she would have said to anyone loitering in it, ”Piss off I’m going to get my ass whupped,” would probably not go over well, in the world she found herself in.
Liv gave her a quick hug and made herself scarce, which Elin couldn’t blame her for. She hadn’t been there long when Gunnar stormed in. He locked the door behind him, a grim set to his jawline
She sensed that not offering up defense was in her best interest.
“I do not have time to explain this. You will recognize that I know more about this world than you do and when I tell you to stop-- you will stop!”
“Honey, he was insulting you.”
He lifted her under the arms and sat her upon the workbench. She had not expected this. Only then did she notice the bundle of switches he held in his hand. Without a word, he pressed her shoulders back onto the bench. “I do not have time to mollycoddle you, you will take your punishment, and then I will get back to work.”
She wasn’t sure what he had in mind. “I am sorry, “she stammered.
“I will show you sorry, “he growled. Suddenly his left arm swooped under her knees and lifted her legs up. Her skirts fell away leaving her bare bottom high off the bench. The first stripe of the switch made her yelp. “That was nothing, “he said in a quiet voice that did nothing but put knots into her belly. The second stripe made her shriek. She gathered up her skirt and bit down on a handful of it, not wanting the entire keep knowing what was happening. Back and forth, he moved the birch, searing lines in its wake. Tears began to pour down her face, she shimmied and twisted, anything to get her defenseless flesh out of the line of fire, it was to no avail. She managed to get one of her knees off his arm, and that helped not at all. While she flailed around, He merely held her other ankle up higher and slowly and judiciously continued the punishment. Knowing that he was watching her and choosing exactly where to lay the next slash of fire made it even worse. After a few moments of this, he firmly gripped both of her legs and brought her knees back to her chest. She couldn’t get away from the switch and Gunnar showed no signs of ever stopping. Utterly exposed and powerless, a sob broke from her chest. The lines from the switches intersected and he studiously covered every bit of bottom and thigh with the lacy, red-hot welts. He did it over and over, making sure that his bride learned to never treat a Paladin in such a fashion.
“If you do anything like this again, I will have to send you home to your parents,” he said with real grief in his voice.
She reached for his hand, and her sobs took on a whole new timbre. “I won’t, I won’t, please don't send me away.”
He nuzzled his face into her hair, “There is nothing I want to do less than that. But I have a destiny to fulfill, and you must not make it harder.”
He held her for a moment while she sobbed in pain and grief and regret. She wiped her face. She would do a better job of being aware of her duty. “I promise. I know you have to go back to work.”
He gently kissed her cheek, “I swore I wouldn’t leave you alone after I punish you.”
“I know, but this is you getting back to saving the world. It’s alright.”
He kissed her again, fully on the mouth. “You need to go find the Paladin and sincerely apologize.”
She nodded, dreading it, but knowing he was right.
Washing her face in a bucket of water that was on a shelf, helped somewhat. Every step brought a fresh wave of sparks across her scalded bottom. Leaning a shoulder against the door so that no one could come in, she reached up under her skirt and cupped her buttocks in her cool hands. She could feel the raised welts all over her skin. She could not believe that it could hurt so much and yet not be bleeding. Even the lightest pressure of her fingertips made her gasp. Every step was literally breathtaking. She held the side seams of her skirt taut so that nothing would brush against her thoroughly punished bottom.
Chapter 30
Liv was nowhere to be seen. Elin forced herself to approach the only woman she saw in the courtyard. “Excuse me, I am looking for the Paladin.”
The woman replied, “No one knows where he goes. I would guess he’s up under the rafters.”
Elin did not have time to comment on the oddness of this reply. She entered the kitchen. A few women were working, but none spoke to her. Elin figured she’d just keep moving until she got to the highest part of the keep.
She crossed the great hall and took the large staircase up. It turned around on itself so many times that she thought she might get seasick. The stairs were becoming a challenge. She had been left with a sore, achy butt after a punishment spanking before. But this was different, her muscles were not sore, but she could still feel the individual switch marks, she was intensely aware of every inch of her rump and thighs feeling as if they were on fire. She hesitated on the stairs to catch her breath and with some relief discovered that pressing back against the stone wall cooled her fiery posterior. She briefly considered slipping her skirt up and pressing her scalded flesh against the stone, but she could see nothing but trouble down that path. Soldiering on, she finally reached what she presumed to be the top floor. It appeared to be used for storage. Trunks and boxes piled high. Only the faint whisper that she could hear kept her moving forward. Why would the undisputed leader of the keep be muttering to himself alone up in a deserted attic? Growing nearer she realized that he wasn’t muttering, he was crying. Her sympathy overrode her caution, and she crept closer. This spot of the attic was not dusty. It was spotless. A dainty bed with an elaborate coverlet held a sleeping occupant. The Paladin knelt beside it, sobbing into his hands.
She must have made a sound, for he turned in fury. “How dare you follow me?”
“Wait, wait” she held out her hands, transfixed by the sleeping tomte on the bed. She was bigger than Elin had expected, she had always imagined the tomato as hummingbird sized. This was a very petite woman with a cloud of silvery white hair surrounding her unlined face. Dark circles under her eyes could be seen even through her eyelashes. She was somewhat smaller than a human woman, but nothing like the ethereal dainties that Elin had imagined.
“Is that your dairy tomte?”
He took a step back, “How do you know we have one of those?”
“Because no human made that yogurt. What’s wrong with her?”
“I don't know. She has grown weary over the last few days, and now she won’t wake up.”
Elin thought back to all the lessons her mother had conducted while they scrubbed the dairy. “Who else does the dairying?”
“No one does it as well as she does, so I have the other women doing different things.”
That explained it. “She loves you,” Elin said, meaning no judgment.
The broken Paladin nodded, “And I love her.”
“She’s exhausted herself. You must never let a tomte have all the milk. They cannot stop until it’s all finished.”
“What can we do?”
Elin knelt beside the bed. She made the mistake of resting her bottom on her heels and immediately rocketed up as if she had sat on a spark. She stroked the small women's long grey hair. “What’s her name?”
“Drucilla”
“Oh Drucilla, you poor thing, you’ve
worked yourself too hard.” Elin drummed her fingers on the side of the bed. There was a rhyme if only she could remember it. The tomte is weary, the tomte …she struggled to find the next few words. It came to her in a rush, The tomte lies fallow… the only cure is primrose and marshmallow.
“Do you have a physick here?”
Berndt remained lost in his despair. “Of course we do, but he won’t know anything about how to help her. He doesn’t even believe she is real. She has never let anyone but me see her.”
“I don’t need him to believe she is real, I need him to give me the medicaments for her.”
The gloomy Paladin looked up, “Can you really help her?”
“Perhaps, but we must hurry!” She grasped his elbow, “Take me where I need to go!” Brandt dropped a kiss on Drusilla’s forehead.
“I will be right back, my darling dove.” He did not say what Elin knew he was thinking, please don’t die while I get the things to save you…
Elin gathered up her skirts and ran after the man. There was no keeping her skirts from swishing against her welted skin with every step. It made her breathe heavily, she decided she would view it as a form of penance. Thankfully, the physics room was only one floor beneath the attic.
The Physick was busy running an alembic to make essential oils from sage and Woodruff, which lent the room a heavy scent.
Elin knew that time was of the essence. “Sir, do you have any marshmallow? Dried is fine.”
His eyebrows raised to his black cap, “Are you the brat who got switched this morning? If you think I’m going to help, you make an ointment to take away the sting you are mistaken.”
“it’s not for me! I need primrose oil too.”
Chapter 31
Only the Paladin’s firm “Give it to her,” moved the physick. Bustled to a set of small drawers and withdrew a small vial of oil and some dried marshmallow root wrapped in a piece of cloth. “Do you have a kettle on?” she asked. He did. Elin was guessing at the amounts. She snapped the dried roots into small pieces and covered it with boiling water. Elin handed the vial of oil to Berndt. She helped herself to a saucer to cover the bowl. “We need to go.”
They returned to Drusilla’s side. She seemed even more still than she had a few minutes previously. Berndt dropped to his knees beside the bed. Elin didn’t have time to strain the root out, so she swirled some primrose oil on the top of the tisane. Twisting a handkerchief tightly, she dunked it in the liquid. She used it to wet Drusilla’s lips. After waiting a moment, she tucked a corner of the handkerchief into her patient’s mouth and twisted it, hoping some drops of the medicine would drip into her mouth. She wasn’t sure how long to wait. Elin sincerely wished she had asked her mother more questions about the care of tomtes.
Nothing happened. Another dunk of the handkerchief into the tonic and then back into Drusilla’s mouth, which seemed the tiniest bit more open. Elin squeezed the medicine out and tried it again. Almost imperceptibly, Drucilla swallowed. “More,” commanded the Paladin and Elin happily complied. After five more drips using the handkerchief, Drusilla’s eyelids fluttered. While Berndt loudly thanked all father, Elin lifted the tome’s shoulders and urged her to take a sip. Drucilla took a cautious drink and then greedily swallowed all of it. Some color was coming back to her cheeks. Elin tucked the covers around her patient who was beginning to shiver.
“Do you know where any wool is, not the fabric- but the unfinished fluffy wool?” Elin hoped they wouldn’t ask her what the tomato would do with it, since she wasn’t entirely sure.
Berndt went to find someone who knew. Elin rubbed Drusilla’s hands and arms, trying to warm her up. She vaguely remembered a song her mother had sung, “May you bless this dairy forever, may you ever know you belong, you are our tomte, let me be your friend.” She continued singing quietly as rubbed the color back into the sleeping lass.
Women carrying baskets of carded but loose wool came hurrying into the small room. The first one stopped, gobsmacked. Elin took the basket from her, ignoring the chatter among the women. “Is this what he’s been hiding?” said one. “No wonder he never got us a proper dame,” said another.
“Thank you, thank you, “Elin said crisply, gathering up all the wool and pointedly dismissing them with a gesture. Elin gathered up handfuls of the wool and nestled it around Drusilla’s body, especially around her frozen feet and then tucked the covers back around her hoping desperately that somehow this would warm her up. The door clattered open Elin jerked up at the unwelcome intrusion. Berndt was flushed, “Everyone is looking for you! That giant husband of yours is convinced you ran away.”
Elin dropped her face into her hands and began to cry.
“Were you trying to run away?” the Paladin asked.
“No, of course not.”
“Then why are you crying, you silly girl.”
“Because I am going to get spanked again, and I really, really really do not…”
“No one will punish you. Come with me.”
“You can’t leave her alone.”
“Stay here with her for a moment.” Berndt left the room, Elin could hear his boots clattering on the wooden planked floor.
He called down the stairs. Elin was temporarily mortified at the idea that he was going to say something along the lines of “Do not spank the girl that everybody knows got a switching earlier.” However, that was preferable to her bottom getting any more punishment.
It already throbbed, and where the lines crossed the skin felt burnt. She couldn’t make out precisely what he said, as he turned and with powerful strides walked to the stairs.
His entire demeanor had changed. He was now a man in charge. The Physick was set to watch over Drucilla, who seemed to be becoming more alert by the minute. He organized his residents. Soon a meal was being prepared, while several men were lining up to help with the forges. Elin sidled into the smithy, fully prepared to explain herself, but found that everyone already seemed to know where she had been and was most impressed.
“How did you know what to do?” Liv asked.
Elin hesitated, not wanting to give up everyone’s admiration entirely by admitting, “I didn’t it was mostly a guess.”
“I grew up on a dairy farm, my mother knew all about tomte.”
“I thought they were a myth,” Liv admitted.
“I thought most of the wall was just an old legend,” Elin conceded. The goal was to get the swords done before they lost daylight. They feared that an enemy spy would notice the very bright fires in the dark of night. It was a frantic last push, and Gunnar finished the last stage of the final sword at the last possible moment.
He bathed as quickly as he could, and they sat down to a delicious, if hurried dinner. Berndt appeared holding hands with the petite woman with the long silver hair. Her long ornate braids hung past her waist. Elin made a mental note to ask her mother about this. Perhaps a tomte could be seen when they wanted to? Elin wasn’t sure.
The Paladin did not officially introduce her, it seemed she was too shy to enjoy that. He did, however, treat her as he would a bride. She sat next to him, and he offered her food from his own plate. She didn’t seem to eat anything, although Elin was sure she had seen the tomte swipe a drop of honey off the plate and delightedly suck her finger. Everyone seemed to believe that Elin knew everything there was to know about the magical woman. Elin tried to explain that she didn’t speak tomte, but no one seemed to believe her.
Looking around her Elin felt that the entire great hall had changed. Not only were its residents in better spirits, but it somehow had less of a neglected look. Liv leaned in close to her, “My mother was right, the state of the Paladin totally changes the state of the keep.”
The two young wives had a laugh, realizing that until very recently they would have sworn that their mothers knew nothing about anything important.
Drucilla left the high table and approached Elin carrying a piece of heavily buttered bread. Elin nodded her thanks and bewildered took a bit
e. She had forgotten what Ivan had said about butter. As its silkiness dissolved on her tongue, she could hear her mother’s voice. “We don’t know exactly what your mission is, but darling we are so proud of you both,”
Elin didn’t care that she was in a crowded dining hall, the tears rolled down her face. She felt the embrace of her father and she could practically see the twins rolling in the grass. Marti was stealing sweets and then lying about it with cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk. The son of the wheelwright, Elin thought his name was Hans, could be seen shyly talking with Dafne on the porch. She saw Carr helping her father to build a stone fence. All her senses were awash in scenes of home. She wiped her eyes and whispered thank you to Drucilla.
They were late getting on the sleds. Goodbyes were hurried. Berndt had offered two other dog sleds, by making the loads lighter, they hoped to make it to the next keep by daybreak.
Berndt reached for Elin’s hands. “I just realized never apologized to you, I meant to,” she whispered
He waved a hand as if to say, “None of that matters now” Drucilla stood silently beside the tall Paladin, but suddenly wrapped her arms around Elin. It was astonishing, Elin could suddenly understand exactly how Drucilla had fallen in love with the lonely, seemingly harsh Paladin. She had seen him as the lonely soul he was, and she had responded with warmth. Elin did not know how many tomte were in the world, or if they knew each other. hesitatingly she whispered, “Drotte.”
Drucilla sent a bolt of pure silvery light into Elin. “Your sister!” Elin cried. “She’s wonderful!!!” Drucilla held her hand and cast a questioning look. Elin tried to explain how her family treated Drotte but gave up and pressed Drusilla’s hand to her chest. She focused on the memories of her mother leaving butter and flowers and wool for Drotte, on the girls singing the songs they had been taught, on her mother always giving Drotte credit for their success. Drusilla’s eyes flooded with tears. One last tight squeeze of the hands and Gunnar was urging Elin into their wagon.
Her Gilded Firebird: Book Three in the Norse Warriors series Page 14