All of her life, Embla had tried to fade into the background, afraid to be noticed, and subsequently teased or cast out by the Jarl’s wife. However, sometimes she wished she had dared to stand out and make a name for herself, rather than disappearing into the crowd.
No one would call herwild.
‘I will never forget you,’ said Runar gently, and she believed him.
Caught in his rich dark eyes, a cage of heat tightened around her chest. Despite only wearing her shift, she had never felt warmer. Then he smiled, and she felt as if she were the melted snow, lying in a puddle at his feet.
‘Better?’
Better?She felt alive.
‘Yes, thank you,’ she said, blushing so hard, she imagined she was as red as a beet. She pulled her hand away, afraid she would beg him to kiss her otherwise. How could she escape this strange hold he had over her?
‘Good.’ He looked absently around at the small chamber as if he were searching for something. Then he pointed at a wide wooden tub in the corner. ‘Bathe if you wish. It is no hardship to refill the water at this time of year. Help yourself to anything from my stores or the barn. I might even have some bolts of wool or linen somewhere. If you wish to make yourself some clothes, then please do. I think my mother gave me a bundle of cloth years ago that I will probably never use.’
He picked up a bag of tools from beside one of the chests. ‘I will make some repairs, and then go hunting. I milked the goat this morning, but she is an obstinate creature and I only got enough for our porridge—but if you want more then you are welcome to try again. You will probably have better patience than I.’
She blinked, her head bobbing at all the many things he was telling her. For a man who said he didn’t like people, he spoke a lot.
He paused by the door, as if a sudden thought had occurred to him. ‘Or...if you are still tired, then rest. There is nothing that cannot wait until tomorrow.’
He left the room with a cheerful smile and an odd little nod—which seemed almost like a bow. Strange, but she rather liked his odd ways, and he genuinely seemed to care for her comfort. Which was an entirely new experience for Embla.
Using a cloth to protect her hands, she opened the lid of the porridge. There was a thick skin over the top, and it had black specks in it. Sitting down, she ate cautiously around the burned oats.
‘You may be generous with your home, Runar. But you are a terrible cook,’ she said lightly, smiling to herself, and then realising she wasn’t alone when Sten came up to nudge at her leg.
‘You have it,’ she said, putting the cauldron down beside him and stroking his head.
Sten made quick work of licking it clean, apparently not as picky an eater as she was.
Piling up everything that would need cleaning, she set to work boiling water for the tub. A quick look through the stores revealed a large bar of tallow soap, which appeared to be used for everything—including Runar—she suspected. Although, his hair looked a lot tidier and his beard a little more neatly trimmed this morning, which she thought improved his appearance greatly.
When the hot water was ready, she poured in cold from the water barrel until it was to her liking and then stripped off to bathe. However, she did not relax as Gertrud always did—when she sank into her scented water and lay there until it cooled.
Embla would not waste another moment after sleeping so late. She dared not give Runar another reason to cast her out.
She washed everything.
Her body and hair, her apron dress, shift, and other underclothes. She took one of Runar’s undertunics from his chest and put that on while she pegged out her clothing to dry. Then she scrubbed every pot, spoon, knife, and piece of furniture in the entire room. Next, she swept and washed the floors, until everything gleamed.
She took particular care over cleaning his musical instruments. It had been lovely falling asleep to the sound of him playing the lyre. She hoped he would keep his word and teach her how to play at least one of the instruments.
As she worked, she heard the constant banging of Runar as he repaired the longhouse. When she was happy with her work in the living area, she got dressed in her now dry clothes, and took the waste bucket overflowing with cleaning debris out with her.
The rest of the longhouse looked a lot better than yesterday, although she suspected it would take until spring for it to reach its full potential. At least Runar had made a good start. The front door was now fixed, the floor swept clean. The animals had fresh water and food in their troughs, and seemed content.
Runar was hammering together what looked like the beginnings of a large animal pen by the entrance. Already the light was fading, but that was to be expected at this time of year, and so he had lit a torch in the wall sconce for a little extra light.
‘I thought you were going to go hunting?’
He stopped his hammering and gave her a sheepish smile. ‘I quickly realised there was far more to do than even I imagined. I set a few traps though, and will go and check them later...or we could kill a hen?’
He pointed towards one of the fat little birds roosting on a windowsill. It gave a little offended squawk as if it had heard his threat and he chuckled to himself.
Unsure if he was teasing her again, Embla said, ‘That would be a waste of a laying hen... I will go and see what I can find in your stores.’
Runar gave a sharp whistle and the dog came trotting out. ‘Take Sten with you. I don’t see bears or wolves out here much, but better to have him with you. The cesspit is a little down the hill.’
