Viking Tribute

Chapter 25: Learning Curve

As soon as I could walk, I was put to work. As I was still weak, Lady Disaelfr sent me to take care of the wool. A lowly slave couldn’t be given the noble tasks of spinning and weaving. Instead I got to wash greasy fleece with soapwort, a plant that did wonders in removing just enough suint to keep the wool waterproof. I had to chop the leaves and roots and boil them in a kettle. Then I filtered and poured the resulting fluid in a tub set along the small stream, below the pool. I added more water and stirred a fleece in it with a stick, before rinsing it in the stream. It wasn’t too tiring and I could sit on a stone for most of it. These were the last of the stock and it took me only a few days to clean them all.

The weather was holding and by the time I was done washing, most of the fleece had dried. I was led into a small stone house similar to the one I had been locked into, and given a couple of strange instruments. They resembled a rake, flat with many teeth and short handles. I stared at them, wondering what I was to make of them. The servant who had brought me there, a tall, middle-aged woman, threw me an annoyed look.

“I can see why Einarr Godi used you as a bedslave. You are not good for anything else. Give me these combs, I’ll show you.”

I silently handed the devices to her, her words weighing on my shoulders. I had never watched this part of wool processing, as it generated a lot of dust. It was always done in a closed, dedicated room, and anyone willing to keep their clothing and skin clean stayed away from it.

She sat on the only stool and peeled small bunches of wool that she hooked on the first comb. Holding it with one hand, she pulled the fibers with the second one until they were all on it. She switched the combs and repeated her actions, over and over, until there were two bundles left on the teeth. She slid the smaller one off the comb, giving it to me.

“This, you throw, it is the waste.”

The wool in it was knotted, irregular. It would make a terrible thread. I nodded my understanding.

She pulled on the remaining flock, gently stretching it until it came off the teeth. Wrapping the soft ribbon around her hand, she twisted it into a fluffy nest, ready for spinning.

It seemed easy enough. I took the combs confidently and imitated her. It wasn’t as simple as I thought. I got the teeth stuck a few times and broke the threads while stretching them. She corrected me until I got the hang of it. Satisfied that I wouldn’t destroy the yarn, she left me on my own.

In normal circumstances, there would have been several others with me, talking and laughing, making the repetitive task less tedious. But we were closing on the winter. Most of the fleece had been processed during the summer, and what was left wasn’t a priority. It could easily be done during the dark months. All the other slaves were out, harvesting berries and herbs, preserving meat and fish, or herding the sheep back from their highland pastures. I was the useless one, too weak to help.

There was a chill in the air, yet it wasn’t too cold. I opened the door and sat in the light, facing outside. I felt less lonely when I could see people scurrying around. My hands soon were able to work on their own, and my mind began to wander. I imagined my return home, the joy on my father’s face, my brothers’ warm welcome. I pictured the feast we would share, how we would talk about what happened to us during our separation. I might have another niece or nephew. The same reason that had made it hard for me to find a husband had made it easy for my brothers to find a wife. They had their picks of beautiful and well educated ladies, with a dowry to match. I would hear news of the village, Ailish would have given birth. Her husband wanted a boy and she wished for a girl. I used to smile at her assurance; she was so certain to be right.

But what would I tell them when my turn would come? I have been enslaved, raped and whipped, and managed to displease my owner so much that he sold me back? What would that say about me? I wasn’t deemed good enough to be a slave, let alone a wife.