The Viking's Hold II: Emma

"You are very beautiful today Emma! Are you sure you are going to the field? One could wonder, seeing you in this dress..."

Lowering her head, Emma brushed off the young warrior blocking her path. He had been courting her all summer, and it was beginning to annoy her. At seventeen, she was a widow of four years, and found it quite pleasant. She had a small dowry, a house left by her dead husband, and a few coins saved on her wages. Her experience of marriage had been bad enough to deter her from seeking another.

He was right though, the dress was pretty. It was a gift from Lady Aelswyn, who had to renew her wardrobe. After carrying two children, her mistress was still a beautiful woman, albeit with more curves. Her old clothing had been offered to the female servants, and Emma's light frame fitted perfectly in this garb.

Her hand caressed the rich fabric, fine wool, delicately embroidered at the neck. The color had faded from a deep to a lighter blue, making it more appropriate for someone of her station. She felt silly wearing it today; it was too rich for the occasion, a trip to the field near the river with her charge, little Gunnar. Yet she had been unable to resist.

She smiled fondly; the three year old had inherited his mother's stunning green eyes and dark hair, but boasted the frame and energy of his father. The rain had been relentless for a week, and Gunnar had pestered the whole Fort while stuck inside. He wanted to try his new wooden sword, and there was no stopping him.

Emma lifted her head, exposing her face to the sun, still warm in this end of August. Her escort was waiting with the excited child and she rolled her eyes upon noticing the frowns of the two guards. Accompanying them was a chore they wished they could avoid. She could easily imagine all the things they would rather do on a nice day like this. The field was in plain sight of the village, surely it was safe enough. She doubted that anyone would want to confront Lord Sven's army.

Shrugging, she hurried after them as they headed for the gates.

Bjorn bent on his oar, together with the thirty men on the boat. Squinting, he scoured the coast for the mouth of a river. His eyesight wasn't so good from afar, yet he deemed himself lucky. The jagged scar that cut through the left cheek had missed his eye, destroying his once handsome face. At least he could see well enough in battle.

He was only going Vikingr for the silver that would give his sister a good dowry. For his own needs, his farm was enough. With their parents gone, it was his duty to provide Inge with a suitable husband. This last raiding party had been a success so far; he had collected nearly enough. Soon, they would be returning home.

The small village they had found earlier had been spoken for. Beached longships sat on the sand at the end of the bay, far larger than theirs. They would take their chance inland, as their smaller ship could navigate in shallow waters. Villagers wouldn't expect them there.

Shifting his buttocks on his sea chest, Bjorn pulled harder, smiling at the prospect of easy bounty.