Viking Tribute

Chapter 18: Punishment

I awoke to an empty bed and a pounding head. It took me a while to find my bearings; then I remembered the previous night and felt sick. I jolted up and rushed clumsily to the water basin. My head was better after emptying my stomach.

I was freshening up when Svana bolted in, hugging a bundle of fabric. She seemed ill at ease. I greeted her but she avoided my gaze.

“You must put this on and come with me, Einarr Godi’s orders.” She unfolded the rag; it was a smock, old and torn beyond repair. The treads mending it were all that kept it together. I stared at the thing in disbelief.

“Hurry, he’s waiting!” She still wouldn’t look at me. Did I offend her somehow? I had no recollection of it.

Confused and ashamed at my drunken behavior, I didn’t bother arguing. I had far more pressing matters to consider, such as why I had been so attracted to my captor while under the mead’s influence. I wanted to act like I was, but it wasn’t supposed to be real. I had to be careful not to fall for my own deceit.

With infinite precautions I donned the fragile shift. It was see through in places, and I was deeply embarrassed when we stepped outside. I reached back for a cloak and Svana shook her head. Why wouldn’t she let me cover myself? Were we going to the pool again? I crossed my arms on my chest to protect my breasts from wandering eyes. I could do little for the rest of my body.

The sun was already high in the sky. I had overslept. She led me to a vast space directly in front of the mead hall. Yesterday, it had been empty. That morn, it was crowded. I recognized the household servants and many warriors, some I knew, most I didn’t. I reddened, head hung low, indecently exposed. They parted for us and we progressed slowly until we reached the foot of a high post in the center.

With a sad smile Svana left me. A tall man grabbed my shoulders, pushing me flush against the rough wood. I pushed back and glared at him. Why was he manhandling me? He had no right!

Unimpressed, he seized my wrists and jerked them up. I struggled against him but he didn’t let go.

“What are you doing? Lord Einarr won’t be pleased!”

“He is acting on my orders,” a stern voice said behind me.

My arms were now solidly secured to the post with a thick rope, but I managed to turn my head towards him. “Why?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he bowed to his mother and addressed his kinsmen.

“You are here to witness the punishment of this woman. She insulted me publicly when I was a guest in her father’s hall. She was given to me as a slave in compensation, and she will receive fifty lashes to improve her manners.”

I gasped together with the crowd. I had hoped that he would have forgotten. How could I survive this? Fifty lashes were a huge number, and I never had to endure pain. The picture of slaves’ bleeding backs after a flailing flashed into my mind. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Some were cut to the bones, others died from blood loss. If I survived, I would be scarred for life. Should I beg him for mercy? I mulled over it and discarded the idea. He wouldn’t budge, and I would lose what little honor I had left.

I heard him stride to me. Grabbing the smock at the base of my neck, he tore it open. I shrieked in surprise as the tired fabric broke in his hands. Then I shivered, my whole back exposed to the chill. My tormentor walked away. Terrified, I braced for the first hit.

It came with a wheezing sound as the leather strands cut through the air, but it wasn’t as awful as I feared. It stung strongly, yet it was bearable. I could do this. I relaxed a little, and wasn’t quite ready for the second, slightly worse as it partly covered the former. Still, I could bear it.