“You’ve never been with a woman? Why?”
Something flared in his eyes before he lay back down on the furs. Annoyance? Shame? Anger? “Do I need a reason?”
She hadn’t meant to make him feel bad, but he sounded too dejected for her not to suspect something was not as it should be. “No. But I think you have one,” she said more gently.
For the longest moment he didn’t talk, just stared at the ceiling, arms crossed behind his head. Aife wondered if he was going to give her an answer. Then finally, he spoke.
“You’re right. I haven’t been with a woman because I…can’t. My body will not let me.”
Now this was the last thing she had expected to hear, even more shocking than what he had revealed earlier. “What do you mean?” Surely there was nothing wrong with him? She’d seen only a moment ago how magnificent his body was.
Heart in her throat, Aife waited for Torsten to carry on.
“When I turned seventeen summers, one of the fishermen’s sons, Njal, declared it was time he became a man, in his own words. To give himself courage, I imagine, he talked someone into going to town with him. Why he chose me of all people, I have no idea. We had never really been friends. But perhaps that was the reason he took me, because he didn’t want to look ridiculous in front of a friend.”
“Perhaps,” Aife agreed. “I remember Njal. A rather unpleasant boy.”
“Mm. That’s the least you could say. But I will admit that when he suggested we find a willing woman, the idea tempted me. Part of me agreed it was time I knew what transpired between men and women. Steinar had just gotten married to Astrid and I was only three years younger than him, plenty old enough in my opinion.” He scoffed as if he had since come to change his mind about that. “Anyway, the point is that I agreed to go with Njal. He took me to town that very night, to visit aSaxon widow who, he assured me, had agreed to welcome us both in her bed.”
“Had he lied?” Aife whispered when Torsten twisted his mouth in what she interpreted as disgust. Was that what the problem was? Had he been forced to watch while the fisherman’s son raped an innocent woman, then been made to do it also? Please, let it not be the case. She could not imagine the horror of it.
“Oh no, he hadn’t lied. The widow was more than eager to be bedded by the two ‘strapping warriors,’ as she called us. She was also well into her fifth decade and the dirtiest woman I had seen at the time, or have seen since. Njal started to rut with her as soon as we arrived, clearly too desperate for release to care about what I thought. As for me, what little desire I’d felt vanished at the sight of the two of them kissing. I should have run there and then, but I was rooted to the spot.” Aife waited while he ran a hand over his short beard. “The whole thing didn’t last long enough for me to make any decision or gather up the courage to leave. Moments after having tumbled the widow on the pallet, Njal was roaring in pleasure. He rolled off her, panting, telling me it was my turn. I had better make it quick because he fully intended to have another go at her. Again, his own words.”
This was not what Aife had dreaded to hear, but horrid nonetheless.
Torsten swallowed, reliving the awful moment when the widow had laughed at his friend’s eagerness and told him she hoped for more stamina on his part.
What had possessed him to confide his moment of shame in Aife? Would she be disgusted? He wouldn’t blame her if she was. Everything about that evening had been grim. From the moment the Saxon had opened her door, he’d known he wouldn’t be able to bed her, or even touch her. He was not ready to “become a man” if it had to happen with that woman. Being forced to watchas she’d undressed had been bad. Watching her kneel at Njal’s feet to put his already erect shaft into her mouth had been worse. Seeing him tumble her to the pallet and plunge inside her had been the worst of all.
And then, as if all that had not been enough, she’d smiled at him through rotten teeth and gestured at her spread legs in clear invitation. Torsten could see Njal’s seed dripping out of her, coating her hairy thighs. To this day, he had no idea how he had not retched.
“When the widow asked me to join her in bed, I could not. I was petrified. It was all so…”
Horrifying.
Though he didn’t finish the sentence, he saw in Aife’s eyes that she understood.
“I fled the house, not looking back once. The following day Njal came to see me, boasting that he’d spent the whole night rutting away, mocking me for my lack of virility, but I didn’t care. I’ve never once regretted not bedding the woman. He left the village shortly after, and I tried to put the whole ordeal behind me. It was not easy, and it took me years to even attempt anything. Then one evening I accompanied my father on one of his missions to another of the Norsemen villages. There, while he met with the men, I started talking to one of his friend’s nieces. Soon it became obvious that she liked me and might welcome my advances. It seemed to be the perfect opportunity to see if I had finally overcome my disgust of lovemaking.”
He swallowed. Would Aife not think less of him for going to someone he didn’t have any feelings toward just to see if he could perform? To his relief, she didn’t seem to.
“It was the ideal solution,” she said, nodding.
“I thought so at the time. Away from the village, no one would know what happened either way.”
Of course it hadn’t quite worked that way, as the girl happened to be a good friend of Sigrid’s, the miller’s daughter. And apparently, after months of silence, she had finally shared what had happened that night in the meadow. In turn, Sigrid had delighted in spreading the word through the village. Gudrun, the baker’s wife, had winked at him only the other day, when he’d bought his bread, and given him an extra flat cake for free, telling him he needed to build his strength. The woman behind him had smirked, as if she knew exactly what they were talking about. Torsten found that he was not strong enough to not care. Because it was not malice but the painful truth.
Hewasa failure of a man—and soon everyone would know it.
Bera had delighted in proving it and would no doubt relish telling anyone who would listen that he had been unable to get hard for her.
“It didn’t work, then,” Aife said, drawing him back to the conversation. She had made it sound as if no one, himself included, should have expected a different outcome, and he was grateful. This lack of judgment gave him the strength to carry on, even if what he was about to reveal was humiliating.
“No. We went to the meadow together and at first everything was as it should be. But as soon as she lay down and offered herself up, legs spread, like that woman, I… My body refused to obey. Even though I had felt desire for her during the evening and had enjoyed our kissing, at the crucial moment, I could not get hard, I could not do what was expected of a man. That was more than a year ago. I haven’t dared try to renew the experience.”
What would be the point, except more humiliation? Torsten shook his head, utterly disgusted with himself.
“So you see. It is even worse for me. You haven’t known a man’s touch, but you at least know that when the time comes,you will be able to act on your desire and behave like any other woman. Your body will welcome your lover as it’s supposed to.”
