“How is your furry bedmate?” she asks, the wisps of her brown hair tickling my neck.
“She left last night. There was an opportunity for her to escape, and it was best to let nature take its course.”
“I am sorry she didn’t lead you to the bow. But the women had another idea,” Joanna replies and turns to the crowd that has doubled in size as we were speaking. “Rasha, the women have brought you, and you alone, an offering.”
“I don’t know what to say.” My tender voice rattles over the words. Many women have come now, slipping through the ranks of men to fill in the empty places around the Yule log.
Stepping down, I am eye level to so many women who wear proud smiles across their faces. Many of whom have been quiet during the nightly feasts and held back at the afternoon games. Katrine blends in with Joanna to my right, and Enora steps forward.
“We made this for you,” she says. My jaw opens at what is in Enora’s arms. It’s a long bow, cut from a yew tree and sized for a female. Carvings begin at the iron nocks and continue over the hand rest all the way down.
Taking it in my arms, I look closer to see the faces of Freya, Frigg, and Skadi depicted in the narrow wood. Enora wipes her hands on her dress, and I pull her into a tight hug.
“Thank you. You don’t know what this means to me.” My whispers are muffled in her fur hood.
“We want you to know we are with you,” she replies, leaning back to give me a smile.
“Thank you,” I repeat to everyone who is watching. The energy in the ceremonial circle is thick with unease.
“In the name of Skadi, I accept this gracious gift. May all the women prosper in their bellies, in their homes, and in their hunts,” I say quietly, raising the bow above my head. The fire crackles over the massive log, spitting sparks and embers over the snow covered ground. Several people begin to whisper, and others cheer. The names of the goddesses fall from the women’s lips in a chant.
“Skadi, Freya, Frigg. Hear our prayers. Accept our Maiden who’ll lead us into the new year.” It starts from the huntresses, withEnora leading the chant, and it grows into a loud song, traveling into the next group of quieter women until even the husbands begin to repeat the words. Fearing the wrath of a goddess is something no man wishes upon himself when he has a child bearing wife to care for.
Clutching the bow, my heart stutters in the overwhelming love pouring out from the women who chose to honor the goddesses. Through the many unfamiliar faces, I see Shaw with his black hood over his head, golden hazel eyes staring across the expanse and into my soul.
“Rasha, what is happening?” Harald’s hard voice snakes around my neck, and his hand is suddenly against my spine. Straightening, I start to walk away, but his heavy hand finds my shoulder, squeezing roughly, so I stay planted next to him.
Leaning back into his ear, I keep the bow tight to my chest. “They made me a bow to honor the goddesses during Yule.”
“The goddesses and not the gods?” he asks, pinching my shoulder while I quake at the knees to leave.
“There were many offerings to the gods while you were asleep.”
“You should have woken me,” he snarls and lets go. Shaking out my shoulders, I don’t see Shaw across from me, and my hunting instincts prick up my spine. Women and men take notice of our exchange and find other places to be, taking their wagons and blankets with them. The ceremonial circle becomes a congested collection of people.
Harald takes me by the elbow, and I have to move with him. Walking fast back toward the stronghold, I notice Harald’s men collecting all the offerings and following behind us.
“I can walk,” I snarl and yank my arm away.
“What did you say to them to rile them up like this?” he asks, kicking mud and snow around as he stomps in through the tall double doors.
“I am a huntress, Harald!” I scream in blind rage.
“You will be my wife,” he yells back. The men bringing the offerings keep rolling by with the wagons, trying to avoid our argument.
“I am a Viking woman, and our laws state I need to accept you. You cannot force me.” I say the truth I’ve been holding on to since Jorvik first told me of his plan.
Harald’s temper simmers between the never ending cups of wine and my stubbornness. He paces around me like a rabid fox, not big enough to make the kill, but desperate enough he doesn’t care.
“Rasha, come with me.” His arms go lax at his sides, and I back up until I am standing on the second and third step. At this height, I can see the women who fled the ceremonial circle now gather at the open gate doors. His face relaxes as he realizes we are being watched.
“Where?” I ask, cradling the bow against my chest.
Harald lets out a frustrated sigh and runs his ringed fingers through his hair. Coming closer so I can hear, he speaks softly, trying to appease me. “I haven’t made you an offering.”
The crowd outside the stronghold pretends to sort the bread from the meat, but women who are taught to protect themselves are always listening. Joanna and Katrine are arm in arm with Jorvik and walk past us, but I wave them over.
“Would you put this in my room?” I ask the group, flashing a desperate glance to the women. Katrine loosens her arm and takes the bow, giving me a quick nod.
