Was he truly so terrible a prospect for her?
Embla had seemed genuinely horrified by the realisation she would spend all winter with him. But it would only be for a season, and winter at that. When he did very little but eat up his stores. It wasn’t his favourite time of year. Nature slept, and the world waited for rebirth, so it was cold and dull. But she would not suffer any hardship in his care; he would make certain of it.
Yes, he was a little rough and untidy looking. Unfamiliar to Norse society and its manners. But he was a good hunter, and had already proved he could keep her warm, safe, and well fed.
By the sounds of it, she feared for her reputation the most.
Did she fear one of her many suitors would return from raiding and think ill of her?
Surely they would prefer she was returned to them alive and well? But perhaps not. Reputation seemed very important to Norse women, and even kind ones, like Embla, worried about ruining them. He had given up his own easily to protect another’s, but then he had no need of it anyway.
However, Embla had also made it very clear that she thought Runar an unworthy companion for her, andthat, he had minded.
It must be because she did not like him, which was disappointing, but beyond his control...or hers. Yet she would need him to survive, and so they would just have to learn to live with one another. Still, it was strange, because he had thought she liked him... She had cuddled up to him while she slept and had seemed happy enough to talk with him. He had hoped she liked him,desiredhim even.
It didn’t make sense.
But then, he had never understood women. Their hearts bloomed and wilted like mountain flowers.
When he had been a child, he had picked blossoms as a gift for his mother, but after holding them for so long in his hot and muddy hands, their flower heads had begun to droop, and their bruised petals had fallen in a trail behind him. His mother had smiled sadly when he offered her the pitiful bunch, and she had explained that some things were best left alone in the place where they were happiest.
He should have learned his lesson then, that love and affection could be harmful in the wrong hands.
No wonder Embla was still not married. He did not know what it was like to be a woman, but he imagined she was well regarded. She probably had all the best warriors competing for her hand, and it must be difficult for her to choose her future husband with so many options available to her.
She was beautiful, an excellent cook, and good with children. An ideal woman in his mind. No doubt, the men went raiding to bring her back all kinds of treasures to tempt her into their beds, and maybe that was why no one had come searching for her.
Perhaps Gertrud was jealous of her? He had wondered over the years if part of the reason why Gertrud had left with him was because he had been the only man to desire her openly. Thorin was old and reserved in comparison, and maybe Runar’s youthful exuberance had flattered her?
Whatever it was, her affection for him had faded just as quickly as the bloom on those flowers had.
‘Is it your parents’ cabin?’ asked Embla suddenly, breaking him out of his disheartening thoughts. ‘I know you said you lived alone...but if your mother is Sami and your father Norse, then did they live out here together at one time? Perhaps when you were growing up?’
It was the first time she had spoken to him since their argument.
If that was what it was?He wasn’t the best at speaking with people, and had a tendency to offend them easily. Silence was his best defence.
They had not been ignoring each other exactly, just not speaking with the same easy familiarity they’d recently enjoyed. They had built the fire, dried their cloaks, prepared the hare stew together, eaten, and packed up some supplies for the journey. The talk had been light and focused solely on the tasks ahead of them. This was the first time she had asked him anything personal, and he took his time answering her, afraid to disturb the uneasy truce between them.
‘Yes...it was my parents’ cabin. But when my father died, my mother decided to return to hersiida—that’s what we call our tribes. So, I live in the cabin alone now.’
‘I am sorry about your father.’ She placed a hand on the back of his shoulder, and the kind gesture was almost a relief. He might not be rich enough to be one of her suitors, but he could at least be her friend.
‘Thank you,’ he said, and the hand slipped away. It had been a friendly gesture, nothing more.
Were they raiders, the men she admired?
They must be if she was waiting for them to return before she made her choice.
Was that the kind of men she liked? Warriors?
‘It was a good death,’ he added. ‘My father took me raiding with him and died in battle.’
‘You were a raider?’ Her voice was startled, but his satisfaction at her surprise quickly dimmed when he realised he would have to explain his failings.
‘I went in my youth for a couple of years. My father wanted me to be a Viking. But it was not the life I wanted.’ Worried she might think less of him, he added, ‘I was good at fighting, and enjoyed using the skills my father had taught me, but the stealing, the slaves... It did not feelhonourable.’
He cringed inwardly at his word choice, but it was how he felt, and he could not lie about it. He had been sickened by some of the things he had seen. People could become much worse than beasts, and he preferred to keep his distance.
