Her Viking Saviour (Lore & Love Trilogy #1)

Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Wynflaed sat with crossed legs under a birch tree that gave her a good view of the settlement. She bit into a ripe red apple with contentment. She had managed to avoid Torben the last three nights and had spent her days learning things about Freydis and the running of the Klavik settlement. Torben had stirred such a myriad of emotions in her when she last stood alone with him that any thought of him pushed her into a state of indecision. She licked a streak of apple juice from her hand that had dripped from the sweet flesh.

“You do not act like a high-born lady,” Freydis commented. She sat opposite Wynflaed and observed her manner.

Wynflaed shrugged.

“I am not high-born, I was a handmaiden to a high-born lady,” she reminded Freydis, and then nibbled the rest of the apple to the core before she tossed it in a basket of scraps for pig feed.

“Still, you are most unusual and I like it. Especially how outspoken you are.”

Wynflaed grinned in return, knowing she referred to her high-handed approach the last few days. While the people of Klavik respected and obeyed Torben, it was clear when he was away Freydis and Sven were not treated with the same regard. This problem mainly affected Freydis, since Sven spent his days ensuring the perimeter was safe and seeing to the manly tasks like hunting. Freydis was charged with the upkeep of the main longhouses, cleanliness, meal preparation, and keeping the stores well stocked. Freydis usually spent her time alone, withdrawn in her misery, and the settlement either took advantage of it or could not function without direction.

Wynflaed was unsure which it was–perhaps a little of both–but she had made it clear everyone needed to play their part. Her attitude had also rubbed off on Freydis who had slowly started to engage with her people again. The pair had stopped to assist the villagers while they made sure everything ran smoothly.

Wynflaed had to admit the Norse (she tried not to use the term Viking, for that conjured thoughts of men like Guthred) were very clean people, more so than the back home. Back home, bathing was a chore done every so often, and not by everyone. She had used rags and water to wipe herself clean between baths or, in warmer weather, the river. But some of her countrymen could go for an age without a proper wash–especially the lower class–and Wynflaed had always been grateful she spent most of her time with the upper class. The Norse, however, bathed almost every day in the bathhouses or a nearby river where another hot spring tempered the water.

Winter was coming, and she knew it would be colder than winters back home. She was soaking up all the sunshine she could now as she followed the rays throughout the day.

She and Freydis had just finished checking the grain stores and she debated whether they should check the salted fish stores or check in with Hilde and the other washer women. They generally had an amusing titbit for her, as she had come to learn since her arrival.

“Wynflaed, do you mind sharing with me how you came to be here in Klavik? Or is the memory still too raw?” Freydis asked, interrupting her own thoughts of her path to Klavik.

“I can share it with you. It is not raw, nor will I forget. It is something that happened and I cannot change it, no matter how I feel. All I can do is look to the future,” she said with emphasis. She never let an opportunity go to remind Freydis about acceptance, Wynflaed had caught her in sullen moods over the last few days, usually in the presence of Torben.

I can relate , Wynflaed said silently to herself.

Wynflaed began her story with the message from her ailing father and described the events through arriving in Kyivan Rus. Freydis’s beautiful eyes widened with horror at their brutal capture, she smiled at Hilde’s ingenuity, and was aghast at the events in Kyivan Rus right before Torben had appeared.

“Your brother was not a man to be trifled with. Even when the leader of this band of wretchedness came forward as a friend, Torben remained unmoved. I did find it curious that the man called him friend and referred to him as Torben ‘Hel-Bringer’. All he said contrasted with the man–the saviour–that stood before us. But this leader, this Guthred, was intent on poking Torben’s hard shell.”

“Did you say Guthred?” Freydis cut her off sharply.

“Yes, Guthred. I do not know son of who or anything. He was almost as large as Torben and I remember he had small, evil eyes,” Wynflaed said with a shiver. Freydis’s eyes darkened to the shade of a stormy sea, deep blue and muddled, and Wynflaed began to feel uneasy.

“What is it, Freydis? Do you know of this Guthred?” she asked, even though the answer seemed clear.

“I do. I was to marry him until Torben forbade it.” Her voice was both hard and sad, as if she could not decide which emotion was stronger.

Taken aback by the knowledge, Wynflaed said the first words that sprung to her mind.

“You wanted to marry that brute?”

“He is not a brute!” Freydis shot back angrily.

“He planned on selling us, of course he is a brute!” Wynflaed declared. She stood her ground, shocked by the sudden change in Freydis’s behaviour.

“I know it is wrong, but you do not understand. That is still a way of life for many.” A pleading tone had now entered Freydis’s voice. “Guthred is strong and sweet, he saw past my scars. He loved me for me.”

Wynflaed said nothing for a few moments. They just stared at each other while they reeled from the revelations that had just sprung forth between them.

“And this is why you are mad at your brother?” Wynflaed asked softly, as understanding dawned upon her.

Freydis nodded and tears pooled in her eyes.

“He would rather keep me miserable here in Klavik than let me be with the man I love, and he never told me why. Only that he was Chieftain and that was his final word. And he sent Guthred away. He never even let me say farewell.”

Freydis seemed so upset that Wynflaed bit her tongue. Freydis was not thinking straight. There was more to this story, and it was obvious nothing she said could convince Freydis that Guthred was evil. Only Torben could explain the truth to her.

“Come Freydis, do not fret so. Let me take you to your room so you can rest.”