“One set and there’s a side door, so we don’t have to go in the front.”
“Finally, you’ve said something that makes sense. I thought you were planning on unrolling our furry friend here, right in front of Harald, as a wedding present.” Joanna chuckles under her breath and shifts the cloak to her other shoulder. A growl emits from inside the rolled fabric.
“What we do in this world comes back to us, so if the goddess wants me to heal this cat, I will,” I say. My knees slip out of the long tears in my dress, and freezing winter air raises goosebumps along my thighs. My fur boots go up to my calves and make walking around in the snow bearable, but they aren’t as tightly sealed as my hunting boots. My toes are starting to lose feeling from the cold.
“Rasha, the Maiden of Yule has come for a drink!” I hear my name when we are closer to the outer wall of the large stone structure of Harald’s stronghold. My red hair and white dress must have given me away, even without the antler crown. A group of rowdy Vikings smash their cups together, letting foamy ale spill over. One knocks his cup back, draining the liquid and throwing it into a snow drift.
“Rasha, they say you are the best huntress. Come, show us how good you are with a bow,” a tall, skinny man demands. I notice his tunic and vest are splattered in blood as he swings his axe around. Joanna keeps walking, urging me forward. My hands sweat as my grip slips, and I switch shoulders.
“In the daylight, if you ask the Jarl first,” I answer and keep walking.
“What are you carrying? Let us take up whatever you need,” the man’s comrade offers, causing us to walk to the other side of the narrow pathway in between the forge and stronghold. Both men seem less inebriated than their friends who have already moved on from the conversation.
“Extra blankets, the Jarl’s fortress is drafty,” I say, skating around a sloshy puddle of ice. The side door of the stronghold is a few feet ahead. Both men look at us with lax curiosity, and I can’t decide if they were part of the scuffle in the woods or if the blood staining their tunics is from another time and place.
“Oh, you must forgive me. My name is Bjorn,” the thin man says, coming much too close to me. I can’t back up or else I’ll squish the lynx, and we will be caught. He continues to stand in my way, taking his time to look at the torn section of my dress.
“I don’t think you’ve given cause for forgiveness yet,” I say. Maybe it will make him think twice before attempting to hurt us if he thinks the Jarl has already claimed me?
“I forget that you really are a maiden and haven’t known what it’s like to share a man’s warmth. But I can let the Jarl know your bed is cold.”
“He’ll be happy to set fire to your sheets,” his friend sneers. I force my feet forward, and Joanna follows. We don’t look back or stop until I reach for the curved handle of the door. Yanking it open, I gently put my side of the cloak down and peer in between the layers of fur.
The lynx’s massive, round eyes stare back at me as if to say,where am I?
“I hate the men here,” Joanna exhales, rubbing her sore hands down the front of her long coat.
“Did you see the blood all over them?”
“I did. But that doesn’t mean anything when it seems they are ready for a fight.”
I mull over Joanna’s words and pick up the edge of the cloak again. It is easier to make it up the stone steps and into my roomnow that we are alone. The fortress, as I’ve been calling this stronghold, is actually not as drafty as I pretended it was. The sealed stone walls hold in the heat nicely from the many hearths. Regardless, the fires I left going in my bedroom have died down, so the room feels like we submerged ourselves in a frozen lake.
We put the lynx down on the side of the bed farthest from the door. In case I have any visitors over night, I’ll be able to hide her.
“She must know she’s safe. Look,” Joanna whispers. I unfold the cloak to see the lynx’s eyes are closed.
“See, she’s just like a barn cat.” I smile at Joanna, replacing the fear from our walk up here. The lynx’s breathing is peaceful, and the bandages have held tight. Going to the hearth, I add logs and allow for air to circulate through the embers, making the fire reignite.
“I should go back to the longhouse with the other women. Your secret is safe with me, Rasha.” Joanna slips out of my room. Kneeling alone at the hearth, I sigh, wishing I asked her to stay. We’ve slept side by side many times on hunting trips, and it would have been a comfort to not be alone.
Peeling out of my wet dress and boots, I crawl into bed and cocoon myself in blankets. Between the heavy purring of the lynx and my weary bones, sleep takes me instantly.
3
SHAW
The last thing I told Aslaug still rings in my ears as I regain consciousness and realize where I am. Forcing my eyes open, I take in my surroundings. The feast for the first night of the solstice is in full swing. Warming spices and the pungent smell of roasting meat make my mouth water, but my jaw throbs on the exhale. Blood clogging my nose makes it too hard to breathe without leaving my lips parted.
“Who did this Shaw?” Harald’s voice echoes, and my hazy vision makes him slide in and out of focus.
“Someone who didn’t know I am unarmed,” I reply. The two men holding me up let go, and my knees give out. Vikings around us briefly halt their drinking and dancing to survey the damage to my body while Harald and I exchange words.
Some stop to listen when I say my sled was attacked on the way to the village. I carefully provide limited details. The last thing I need is to make an enemy of the Jarl. It is most likely he ordered the attack on my wagon to begin with and is trying to manipulate my allegiance.
Through my swollen eyelids, I see several people murmuring to themselves, trying to hide their growing tension. Harald thinks he isabove the needs of his fellow Vikings, ever since he aligned with the King. A King whom I hope to never meet.
When Harald ordered me to travel here, I fought with the decision to tell him no. Treating me like a subject is beneath both of us when I have made weapons and goods for all the clans without discrimination for years. I haven’t spent all twelve nights of Yule with anyone since the time I spent with my own family.
