Viking, me.

Chapter 12 - Delicate balace

Stumbling backward I feet my eyes firmly rooted in the advancing mob. The buzzing of people from market is a mere humming in my ears. My pulse bounds in my veins as I watch the people walk toward me.

The men have weapons strung up to their waists. Heavily lined fur boots and corse linen clothing. These men look like deamons, angry brooding eyes, thick dense hair and a general deep ringing voice.

The most terrifying thing is some wore helmets. Metal casing with two rings that are flat hammered and they circled their eyes for protection. Women where kneeling to the ground and retrieving nature, stones and sticks - dirt clumps and throwing them my direction.
Hitting mostly my ankels I can't hold my tongue.

"I've never once done anything to you!"
I turn on my heel and skip into a light run. The dirt paths wind and bend like a maze. Long houses are closely built and these include out houses and animal pens. I push past other Norse  people earning more distasteful shouts and grunts.

I - not so soon after that stop running.
Reaching what seems to be the outskirts of the town. It's quiet and heavily wooded. Two long houses stand near the woods. A man hacking at the earth with some sort of earth axe. Clad in brown robes- once I had calmed down enough to notice- it was brother Rúan!

I reach the fence and call out his name. He looks up from his work and wipes away the sweat. I give a wave and he walks over to the fence.

"What are you doing here?" He asks.
I shake my head.
"I got lost" I say simply. I didn't want to ruin the off chance meeting. It was nice to hear naturally spoken Irish and the ascent of home.

"Bhí me sa bhaile le Sven" * my words gloss over my native tongue as always but it felt nice to talk to some one who used Irish grammar entirely correct.

He nods "An margadh"

"How have you been?" I ask. Although I saw him just the other day I just want the conversation to continue. He explains his treatment in his masters house.

He lives with his master and his wife and daughters. Is worked hard on the farm and guards the house. He returns the question and I'm stumped. How do I answer?

"I work, cook and clean- it's like I'm a maid in one of those castles at home." We both 'humm' in agreement. The gaelic chieftains in their large homes ran by maids and servants.

I left out the more personal pleasurable details- this monk a man of God wouldn't look to kindly upon those memories.

There is a loud female voice calling from the long house.

"May I speak to you again soon?" I ask he said he would love to talk soon and so we depart company and I'm lonely once again.

I head in another direction hoping I may find the square again. The more I head in this direction the more I come across more people. Walking for some time I walk up between two houses - I see a swell of people. Quickening my pace I reach the edge of the square.

I try to walk past silently but the people see me and laugh, I'm not sure if they are laughing at me of its just coincidental. I know my dress is unkept and I'm not clean to say the least but I hate their looks and sharp glares.

I wish I could stand up to them and show them I'm a force to be reckoned with, but that move got me here. 'Norge' as Sven calls it. Where would it put me whilst here? I see Sven. I stop and just look at him.

A hulking figure of brawn and power. Tousled brown hair and Nordic fashion. A strange man that confuses me to no end. A man who is victim to society. Forced to be. The earls son. He is shaking a clenched fist in the face of a smaller man not Alrik some one I haven't met yet.

Raven hair clocked in dark robes carrying a shaft of wood with intricate detailing in the carving. This man is hunched over and looks old and frail. His free hand slowly rises up and he extends a finger to me. Sven's head snaps up- presumably his company said something.

Sven not so much looks but burns me with his eyes. His fist falls loose at his side and his frown disappears. I step fully from behind crowd and I can see them watching us.

"Saoirse" he breaths. I look up into his eyes. Their water blue colour still astonishing. He envelops me in his arms. His cloak sliding down around his arms and conceals me.

"Where have you been?!" He asks.

"Were you worried ?" I question. I smile to myself when I feel the hesitation as his stops mid-breath.

"I was pulled away for one second and then your gone!" He says. I nod. The crowd of people who jeered me and advanced like a mob comes into the front of my mind. Am I that much of an oddity?

Shouldn't Sven be mad right now? Why hasn't he given out to me already? Is it because we are in public? Is anger and rage waiting for me at home.
Did I just call that place home?

My internal questions distracted me from what he had said.
"Are you alright?" He asks tilting my chin up to take a look at my face.

If I looked as tired and confused as I felt I must look like the dead.
"Can you take me home?" I ask still looking up at him. He complies, grabs his stead and nods to Alrik in what seems to be all one swift movement.

He gently presses his lips to my forehead and speaks lowly to me;
"Word of your origins has made it into the ears of the people."

'No? Really?' I think sarcastically to myself. I stroke the horses cheek and try to keep my body as far from Sven as possible. Glancing up a him every so often- he is calm and- relaxed?
He walked with he hand on the bridal path of his horse, behind and between the horses ears.

Returning to the house I never felt so... So appreciated. Sven told me to put the horse away and give him some water.

Back in the house I was surprised to see Sven standing by the fire poking it with the iron rod. There was still some ale left ad he handed me a cup.

"What is this for?" I ask cautiously. He looks at me for a long slow passing minuet. I swirl the drink in the cup and look back to him from the ale whirlpool.

"Nothing" he says lowly. He turned to the fire and pokes at it. "There's is a feast tonight at the hall of the earl"

"Your father?" I ask, I already know the answer.

"Yes- all must be in attendance" he says. Looking into the fire. Something is troubling him.

"What is the matter?" I whisper. I walk around the fire to stand on the other side. The fire flickers across his face and in his eyes the flames dance. His husky voice rich with deep tones speaks of the society we both live in.

"Get washed and dressed, we have a few hours and you are requested early to help with preparations." He replies softly starring into the fire. I step closer and with the tips of my fingers brush his clenched fist.

A queasy feeling comes over me as I step aside. I feel a swell in my chest and an overwhelming feeling of knowing. I feel something will transpire tonight that might destroy the delicate balance of the last few days.