“I’m not a thrall. I never was. Rang brought me as a free woman.”
“Rang?” Lena picked up on the familiarity Lorna used when mentioning a man well above her station.
“We are of equal standing.” Lorna tilted her chin up and dared Lena to disagree. “Ma da was the laird of ma clan, and I was his only daughter. Rangvald offered me a home after his brother killed ma parents and left with me nothing. I am a free woman, even if I work within another woman’s home. I get to train, and it is all I had to look forward to.”
“But Ivar made it sound as though you and Rangvald were more involved than just--” Lena trailed off and shrugged.
“I’m nothing to Rangvald but an inconvenience. Someone he regrets bringing back with him.” The bitterness and pain in Lorna’s voice echoed in Lena’s ears. She would become the same thing to Ivar once he married Inga. The two women remained silent as Lorna bathed and put on a long tunic that fit her as well as it did Lena. With few words exchanged, Lena led Lorna to the jarl’s longhouse, knowing they would have to present the unexpected guest before the jarl and frú sooner rather than later.
“Come stay with me,” Ivar whispered in Lena’s ear as they ate the evening meal together. Lorna sat across from them with Brenna, the woman Eindride was courting, sitting beside him. Lena cast her gaze sideways and shook her head.
“You heard my father. He expects Lorna to stay here since she is a noble guest. She may be only a free woman here, but my father is enamored with being able to say he has a Scottish noblewoman under his roof. I don’t trust him not to seduce her at best, accost her at worst.”
“Your mother would never allow that,” Lena whispered from the side of her mouth.
“She’s never been able to stop him before. Lena, please. I’m asking for Rangvald’s sake. The man is in love with her. Anyone who was nearby realized it when he and I spoke of marriage. And I’m asking you for her sake. I fear what my father might do.”
“You think I can stop him? He’s more likely to have me fastened to theníðstöng. I have no desire for your father to shackle me to the shame-pole where the entire village can throw things are me in scorn.”
“He won’t do that.”
“Are you really that naïve?” Lena turned her head to look at Ivar for the first time since they began whispering.
“He won’t harm you because he knows I will retaliate.”
“Ivar, listen to yourself. You’re willing to fight your father, kill him even, because of me. That is not what I want, and it won’t make our lives any happier if you do. It’ll only get your killed, too.”
“That wasn’t what I meant. I may hate the man, but I won’t commit patricide. He knows I will sabotage other alliances instead.”
Lena took a deep breath. They would only go around in circles if she continued to argue with him. She nodded, and Ivar squeezed her hand under the table.
Over the next fortnight, Lena moved into the jarl’s house much to Soren’s anger and dismay. She kept herself out of sight except at meals. Living in the jarl’s home made it easier for her to complete her daily routine. In the mornings, Ivar greeted her and Lorna before walking to the main hall to break their fast together. Both women set to work in the kitchen before spending the afternoon training. Lorna had only asked for a place to stay and work. She was willing to fight–since she came with her sword and shield–in exchange for a bed at night. She and Lorna shared a chamber, and every night their barred their door against unwanted nighttime visitors. The first two nights, someone tried to enter the chamber, but was unsuccessful. Lena shook her head and held her finger against her lips the first night. It was not Ivar, because he would have announced himself. The second night, the two women sat ready with knives in their hands. The door rattled and muffled curses drifted beneath the door, but nothing more.
Lena and Lorna walked off the training field together. They had pushed one another until they were both drenched in sweat but laughing about how they had each taken turns sliding in the mud. They had offered one another a hand to stand more than once. They had been training all afternoon, and both women needed baths and fresh clothes before they would be presentable for the evening meal.
“I’m headed to bathe before the evening meal. I canna stomach the smell of that dung I stepped in earlier.” Lorna grinned at Lena as she waved before heading to the longhouse for fresh clothes.
Ivar stepped behind Lena and nuzzled the skin beneath her ear.
“I’ve missed you,” he murmured as he kissed her neck.
“Mmm. I can tell.” Lena pressed her backside against Ivar’s obvious arousal. “Let’s slip back to my home and bathe together there. My father and Jan will still be in the fields. Amma won’t say anything.”
“That sounds perfect. I’m always happy to assist you with your bath, my love.”
Neither said more before guardsmen announced approaching riders. Ivar and Lena walked towards the gates, stunned to see Rangvald ride through with a contingent of guards with him. He looked in much the same state as Lorna had when she arrived, except the stench of alcohol wafted off of him before Ivar and Lena reached his side.
“Rangvald?” Ivar grasped the man’s shoulders before he fell backwards after dismounting, or rather slithering, from his horse. “What brings you here?”
“My seester, of course. You haven’t married her yeeet.” Rangvald’s slurred speech was only further proof that he was drunk.
“I know I haven’t. Things have not been going so smoothly with the negotiations.”
“I know. It’s because of her,” Rangvald lifted a weak finger to point in Lena’s direction. When Ivar leaned in to grab Rangvald’s tunic, the other man tapped Ivar on the chest. “Lucky man that you are. At least the woman you love wants you. Miiine caaan’t stand me.”
“Do you mean Lorna?” Lena asked quietly.
Rangvald’s head jerked up from where it seemed to dangle from his neck.
