The Viking's Hold (First 11 chapters)

Chapter 7: Night dreams

Sven couldn’t sleep. He was in the Hall, resting on a thin mattress of hay wrapped in a blanket. Around him his men were snoring. The guards’ barracks couldn’t accommodate so many people and fifty of them crowded the spacious room, glad to be dry and warm.

A maelstrom of thoughts swirled in his mind. A lot remained to be done to secure his hold on the land. Odin had favored them so far, and having met his future wife, he was certain that Freya[i] and Frigg[ii] had blessed him too. She was perfect: educated, dignified, and strong. A royal bride. The tales didn’t do justice to her beauty.

He couldn’t appreciate it fully earlier, with the thin linen veil covering her dark mane and the loose dress hiding her curves. Still, he could easily have lost himself in those bright green eyes, set in creamy white skin.

She was a true maiden, fit for maternity; the witch had confirmed it. The Lady could rage all she wanted, he didn’t care. He had to ensure that she was not carrying another man’s child.

Saxon women were reputed promiscuous; many divorces were on grounds of adultery. Their Christian religion forbade men to pleasure their wives, and taught women that enjoying their husbands’ embrace was a sin. No wonder that they looked elsewhere for satisfaction.

A slow smile stretched Sven’s mouth; he wouldn’t be so dumb.

His thoughts took a lustful turn and he reined them in. All in due time. The wedding was only two days away.

The most pressing was to eliminate the Saxon soldiers. It should be done the following night, as soon as the longships reached the fort. Then he would have to organize the funerals, for Rollo and the Duke’s men.

That was the easy part. After his wedding and Duke Ethelred’s death at Olaf’s hands, he would be the rightful lord, by conquest and succession. The ceorls could testify that both father and daughter gave their assent, without the use of force.

The unknown factor was King Athelstan’s reaction. He was famously hostile to the Danes, despite the truce between the land of the Anglish and the scraps of the Danelaw[iii]. He might not see favorably the wealthy South-Anglia fall into Dane’s hands, lawfully or not.

How much did he need lady Aelswyn for his son? She was far over the marriageable age of twelve, and at fourteen, the Aetheling was only reaching his majority. The Duke had rebuked her suitors for years, sending her to Eiriu[iv] to complete her education. Certainly it wasn’t about her healing knowledge. The match must have been arranged since childhood, although the betrothal was not made official.

Would the King still want her, once she would be Sven’s, and hopefully pregnant? Or would he accept the Viking’s pledge of allegiance and appoint him as the ruler of the shire?

Sven sighed. He would have to wait and hope. At worst, he had until Thrimilchi[v] before the King made his move, his army’s ranks being currently as depleted as the Duke’s forces.

As for now, his greatest concern was feeding his troops. He feared that the winter reserves in the fort and village would be insufficient. And the one person who could provide this information loathed him for a silly incident.

He was definitely to blame. When Olaf signaled him that lady Aelswyn had tried to cut her throat, he reacted instantly, sending the closest soldiers to search her rooms for weapons. By luck, he had forbidden his men to molest the household servants, or the mindless oafs would have raped the girl. On the morrow he would have to make amends to his fiery Lady, and show her a better side of him. Closing his eyes, he made a mental note to ask for a bath and clean clothes first thing in the morning. The Duke surely wouldn’t mind lending him some, wouldn’t he?

Aelswyn turned restlessly under the covers. Beside her, Edith moaned and whimpered in her sleep, no doubt having nightmares. Anger was still raging inside her, keeping her awake despite her exhaustion. She felt used and filthy, humiliated beyond words. She could still feel the old woman’s fingers poking painfully at her lower belly, digging inside her. It was no comfort to know that she washed them before. The hag had smiled all along, reveling in her embarrassment. Was being forced into matrimony with that animal not enough that they tried to belittle her so?

And this was nothing, compared to what she would have to endure at his hands during the wedding night… and all the other nights; the same pain and shame, only worse, with no end in sight. All women had to go through that, she was well aware of it. This was their duty to God and their husband. So how come it did not console her, when her whole body reviled the mere thought of his touch?

She considered her options, and found that she had no other.

Would the King not rescue her? Could she send him a plea for his help? But he would never be there in time. By then she would be tainted, no longer a maiden, but a Barbarian’s whore. An orphaned one, if what Edith told her was true. Not even her father would be left to protect her.

Desperate for the first time in her life, she cried herself to sleep.

[i]Norse Goddess of love and magic.

[ii]Norse Goddess of marital love, wife of Odin.

[iii]The Danelaw was the part of England under Norse control until Edward the Elder.

[iv]Ireland.

[v]May, the month of three milkings.