I pass a group of laborers heading to the field. All three go quiet, turning away. I’m being actively ignored. I have crossed a boundary. People noticed me entering behind Ari when he accused Njord. This is the price for bringing the truth to light, for breaking the code of silence. Men of honor with no honor—let them wallow in their shit like pigs.
There is Ausveig, standing alone and preparing vegetables for the evening meal, as always. Advice from an experienced woman, a fellow thrall who surely has seen the worst—it’s just what I need.
“Blessings, Ausveig,” I say as I approach.
“Kilda,” she replies with a quick glance before resuming her expert chopping.
“How are you doing?” I tweet.
She snorts.
“I should be asking you,” she says, turning to me and wiping her brow with her knife hand.
“I’m fine, but… I… I need your advice.”
“A thrall like me giving advice to a touched woman?”
“Please, Ausveig, stop.”
“Go on then.”
“I have noticed that since the duel, people have… they don’t… They avoid me.”
Ausveig tosses the knife on the chopping board and folds her arms, leaning her hip on the table.
“What were you expecting? Glory?” she asks.
I falter. Her words are like a punch to the gut. Surely Ausveig the thrall-woman isn’t against helping Eidunn? A sudden gust of wind threatens to throw me off balance.
“No, but… Eidunn was being hurt. I just wanted to?—”
“I know what you wanted, Kilda.” She rubs my shoulder. “But people here have known Njord since he was a boy.”
“That doesn’t help Eidunn. Where is she anyway?”
“No clue. And no, it doesn’t. I’m not defending abuse—I’m telling you why people avoid you.”
“Go on. I’m sorry.”
“We are slaves, my dear. I know it’s new to you, but that is your status, even with Sigurd offering you privileges.”
My shoulders sag as she continues. The smell of freshly chopped roots makes my stomach growl, but I repress my hunger.
“A free man is dead. Folk noticed you behind the skald, in the hall, before the poem. They talk. People see that you told Ari about Eidunn’s situation.”
“So then what? I should have?—”
“Stop defending yourself, girl. You came to me for advice.”
I breathe deep and close my eyes, quenching the kindling flame in my chest. To temper the cinders that might grow to a wildfire.
“Forgive me.”
“Forgiven. So in people’s eyes, especially free people, a free man—a renowned one at that—is dead because a thrall girl spread rumors about another thrall girl’s treatment.”
“But—”
She holds up her hand as she closes her eyes.
