I am pushed into a chair by multiple hands. I can’t stop myself from laughing with them. They are as one, sharing the goal of making me sit and relax. Each of them finds her place, on a fur, on a chair or on the bare wooden floor. It brings me back to the time I had shared the tale of Ottar and Freya, in this very room.
I raise my hands. The chatter stops. They still trust me like they did.
“Thank you for the warmest welcome,” I say, purposefully slow. “It feels like an age since I sat here last.”
“That’s because it has been,” says one of them.
“Can’t blame her,” laughs Sifrid, winking at me. “She’s been busy with our favorite poet.”
They giggle. I blush. My cheeks heat up like coals in the fire.
“Ahem… Well, I… Uh…”
“Tell us!” shouts Sifrid.
A couple ladies release low whistles at her request. Ausveig speaks up.
“She came to talk to us, let’s hear what she has to?—”
“Come on,” says Sifrid. “We’re all friends here.”
Their attention turns to me, like Sifrid’s interruption settled it. I am expected to share my intimacy with Ari. A friendly tension fills the air, like they are dying for me to give all the juicy details. They have controlled where this conversation has begun, but I can still control where it ends. A sly grin invades my face as I lean forward.
“Sifrid is hornier than Fulla!” I say in jest.
They roar in laughter, including Sifrid. I’m happy she didn’t take it as a personal insult. Our experience with Fulla has made her enjoy my joke.
“Guilty,” she responds, her face red like mine surely is. “At least I’m not as hairy!”
I snicker with them. Sifrid truly is sharp. Witty sense of humor. She would make a brilliant assistant for my Volva practice. Her eyes stay on me even through the laughs.
“Keep it down over there!” shouts one of the men, his voice muffled through the curtain. I stiffen, pulled out of the safe space created with the ladies.
Ausveig stands up immediately and sticks her head out, her tone bearing a threatening simmer.
“Watch your tongue before you find something unfortunate in your porridge tomorrow.”
It’s all too much. I’m holding my stomach and drying tears. Snorting to control my giggles. As Ausveig sits, Sifrid tugs at her dress.
“What would you put in his porridge then?”
Ausveig shakes her head and rolls her eyes.
“Goat dung, maybe. I hadn’t thought that far, but I’m sure you could produce something to mix into his bowl.”
“I would be honored, my lady,” says Sifrid. “From above or below?”
She gestures first to her nose then between her legs. I can only imagine what she is implying. I consider letting Sifrid’s intrusive questions from earlier be forgotten, but answering them will only strengthen my position. I decide to surprise them, giving them the information they have asked for.
“Above and below?” I ask, teasingly looking into the air as if pondering. “Makes me think of my night with the skald.”
The room goes silent for a second as they realize what I have said. Then they explode into another bout of giggles. Sifrid throws herself at my feet, tugging at my robe.
“Please tell, Kilda, please!”
“Well, it was?—”
“Shush,” hushes Sifrid, turning to the ladies. “Shut it, you harlots!”
