Her Viking Saviour (Lore & Love Trilogy #1)

Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Wynflaed inhaled the scented steam of the piping hot stew before her. After Torben had clothed them, he steered them to a busier area where she could smell the aromas of both familiar and unfamiliar foods. He found them a table and chairs and, within moments, food appeared. The wooden bowl warmed her hands. The stew smelt of lamb and carrots and potatoes but with tantalising spices, unlike the pottage she was accustomed to back home. Lifting the bowl to her mouth, she unwittingly let out a sigh of pleasure and caught Torben watching her. From the half smile and twinkle in his blue eyes, she knew he had heard her sigh.

“I have not eaten this well for some time,” she reminded him, knowing it came out more defensively than she intended, but he continued to smile. For whatever reason, he seemed to find her annoyance and curt behaviour charming.

“Enjoy your meals, all of you, and seconds and thirds if necessary. No doubt you all need to rebuild your strength.”

He was so very kind. And as irrational as it seemed, she felt annoyed by it. The sight of him was pleasurable to the eyes, but his kindness was contrary to all the stories she had heard of Vikings.

“How do you come to speak our tongue so well, Chieftain Torben?” At her question, she thought she saw a slight shadow pass over his face.

“Please, just Torben. I spent much time in your land, learning the native tongue. Trading from land to land across the oceans has also allowed me to pick up many different languages. Much of my settlement can speak, or at least somewhat understand, as we once had Mercians live among us.”

“If I may be so bold, may I ask another question?”

He nodded with a smile at her polite request, and she bit her cheek knowing her behaviour in the short time she had known him had been anything but polite.

“You may, Wynflaed.”

“Why did that man Guthred keep calling you his friend?”

His face hardened and she worried she had misspoken. It was obvious there was a dark history between him and Guthred.

“While you may ask the question, the answer will be for another day.” His tone was hard, matching his expression.

She nodded and turned her attention back to her food. This was her first glimpse of his other side. He was a man, after all, and Viking, but intrinsically she knew that he could keep that side of himself in check. Wynflaed knew it would not be prudent to push and she was placated that he would share the story with her one day. A hunk of fresh brown bread had been provided with the meal and she tore off chunks to sop up the remaining stew in the bowl.

More questions raced through her mind but she kept silent, not wanting to push her luck. He seemed a tolerant man, especially for one of his rank as a Viking. She did not want to press and see more of the other side that lurked underneath. Somehow, she doubted she would, but, after what she had endured, she had learned to be on her guard.

Wynflaed found no further opportunity to examine Torben’s personality and she had to admit she was disappointed. Within days, he had finished his trading and Ragnav led them to the two great Viking ships they were to sail to Klavik upon, much larger and more impressive than the one they had arrived on with Guthred.At the keels of the longships were intricately carved figureheads of ravens, two of them joined as one, facing in opposite directions. They were so detailed she could imagine the realistic carvings detaching themselves from the ship and flying away. The carved eyes seemed to follow her gaze. It unnerved her as much as it was impossible to look away from. A giant raven that would terrify both those at sea and on land. Ragnav must have seen her staring at them, and he gestured to the figureheads proudly.

“The ravens are Odin’s symbol. And these ravens are to honour Huginn and Muninn, the ravens that sit on Odin’s shoulders. They are his eyes and ears and bring him information from the world, from Midgard. Having their presence on our ship ensures our safe passage, as their knowledge helps us navigate the seas home.”

The storytelling fascinated her, and he spoke her language as well as Torben. Being born a Christian, she knew it was unholy to be so intrigued, but this story about one of their gods touched her in a way the story of the Holy Saviour never had. Wynflaed shook her head free of religious thoughts.

Though she was not overjoyed to be at sea once again, this journey was more comfortable, at least. She barely saw Torben, just glimpses of him managing his crew. Ragnav, a charmer if there ever was one, tended to all their needs. He was jovial and always smiling, like the pups she remembered playing with back home.

Before they left, Ragnav had explained that a longship was built for speed and harsh weather conditions. It had an undercover area that stored the goods, keeping them dry. As this space was mainly empty on the return home, it was a good place for the women to keep warm and comfortable. The space, while not overly large, was still comfortable for all three of the women to sit. Cola chose to sit with the men rowing and help when he could, not having the strength to pull the oars himself for too long.

still comfortable for all three of the women to sit. Cola had chosen to sit with the men rowing and help where he could, not having the strength to pull the oars himself for too long, but he wanted to help where he could.

Ragnav had kindly sourced a chamber pot, a wash bowl, and a comb for each of the women and gave the items to them with a handsome bow. The combs were made of deer antler and the handles were inlaid with silver. They came in their own wooden boxes etched with flowers that had been prettily coloured with pigments of blue and yellow. He had explained that it was important to have your own comb and care for your hair which was a symbol of pride. Wynflaed was touched by his thoughtfulness. They were Norse-made, as he had been careful to buy them from another Northern trader, for Ragnav boasted no one took care of their hair better than his people. His own hair was, indeed, well cared for, it shone brightly and was intricately plaited.

Wynflaed felt grateful for his attentions. The women passed their time with stories and sleep, and the arrival of Ragnav and Cole with food and the emptying of their chamber pot was a welcome interruption to the monotony. Ragnav generally shared a tale or two. Her favourite stories he had shared so far were about Odin’s Valkyries, his battle maidens. The imagery of their silky golden hair and startling white skin was so vivid, she easily pictured the silver-armoured women and their snow-white steeds. The story of Brunhild, the daughter of Odin who defied him, was her favourite. It amazed and inspired her that a woman, even a brave shield-maiden, would challenge the wrath of her gods. She found it even more romantic that Sigurd, a mortal man, would face the ring of fire that Odin had cursed to surround her while she slept everlasting. Her appreciation of the tale made Ragnav laugh, and he told her she reminded him a little of Brunhild herself. These stories and learning more of the way of the Norse helped time pass quickly.

She learned more about Hilde and tried to bring Cynewin out of her shell. None of them had ever left Northumbria prior to their abduction, and they had all been born lower class. Hilde had tidied up the uneven length of Wynflaed’s hair, which now fell more nicely. Once a day, they stepped out onto the deck of the ship for air and light, but Torben kept a distance. She thought it was on purpose and she hoped he could feel the cross look she sent his way. She had counted more than a seofon nihta before she heard the deep blowing of a horn and a cheer from the men. It appeared they would soon arrive in Klavik.