“Yea, I admit that. Were it not for my love for Garrick, I would have perished.”
“I will agree that love can give added strength. It can conquer impossible obstacles,” Heloise said, then added thoughtfully, “Yea, I believe you, Brenna. But others will not.”
“I do not care what others think. Only your husband must believe me. I could not bear for all I endured to be for naught. I must have my freedom.”
“I will tell him your story, Brenna, but ’twill not matter if he accepts it or not. You are already a freewoman. You were from the day my son relinquished his hold on you.”
The enormity of Heloise’s words and the seriousness of Brenna’s position did not affect Brenna until she was fully recovered. She was free, yet here she was in Anselm Haardrad’s care, eating his food, sleeping in his home. This dependency began to gnaw at her insides. She did not like feeling indebted to this man any more than she already was.
It was two months into the new year and spring was nearing when Brenna approached Heloise. She found her in the main hall, supervising her many servants while she skillfully worked a standing loom weighted with soap-stone, on which a beautiful bedcover was almost finished.
It galled Brenna that she must ask to work in order to feel less burdensome, but she had nowhere to go in this foreign land, and so was forced to stay here. Yet she could no longer do so without paying for her keep.
“Milady,” Brenna began reluctantly, “I cannot continue to accept your hospitality without some payment.”
“’Tis unnecessary, Brenna.”
“Nay, I feel ’tis most necessary. I am a burden in your house.”
“You are a freewoman and a guest, Brenna. Taking payment from a guest is unheard of.”
“Then I must leave here,” Brenna said adamantly, knowing her foolish pride was leading her on a course she could not alter.
Heloise frowned, shaking her head. “My husband said ’twould come to this.”
Brenna was momentarily taken aback. “How could he know that?”
“He prides himself on being able to predict your actions. He thinks of you as a Viking maid, where courage and pride reign uppermost.”
Brenna was nettled that she was so accurately speculated over, and more so that Anselm would relate her traits to his own people.
“So he knew I could not stay here long?”
“This is what he told me,” Heloise admitted, “though I could not believe you would be so rash as to leave here with nowhere to go.”
Her words stung Brenna. “I cannot help the way I am, milady. ’Tis my lot in life to be controlled by pride.”
“I know, Brenna, and I am sorry I criticized you. I once had pride like you, but I learned to temper it, as I hope you will one day.”
“I will leave on the morrow, and I thank you for my stay here.”
Heloise shook her head and smiled weakly. “If you are determined to do this, there is a house on our land where you may live until spring.”
Brenna was relieved and crushed at the same time. “Only until spring?”
“Nay, as long as you wish, Brenna. But my husband has bid me tell you that come spring, he will return you to your land if that is your desire.”
Brenna took this news with mixed feelings. To leave this cold land had long been her only wish, then she had lost her heart to Garrick. And now? What would it matter if she put the distance of their respective lands between them? There was an ocean between them now as deep as any, filled with hatred and distrust.
“Brenna, is that what you want?”
“Yea.” Her answer came as a whisper.
“But there is no one for you to return to—is there?” Heloise asked sadly.
“Nay,” Brenna replied and lowered her eyes. “Yet there is no one for me here either.”
“Your aunt is here—and your sister. And I have come to love and worry over you myself, because my son—”
