Solveig arrives in Kattegat as a captive, but soon comes in close contact with the king of the Vikings as well as his sons, above all Ivar.
In the ancient lands of the northern gods she uncovers divine wisdom, old feuds and new love.
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The wooden bucket I had been holding fell to the ground and landed on the trampled grass with a soft thud. The water poured out and made its way to a ditch, seeping into the dirt and creating a pool of mud. The initial shock I had felt gradually faded and I could focus on the person in front of me. His blue eyes that had immediately caught my attention studied my face as I was watching him. His eyes held a gaze that I could not place; they held a story that I was yet to be told. I tried to remain calm, knowing that he was watching me so intently. However it felt more as if he was studying a prey before attacking it, which made me want to run away and hide, but a part of me was intrigued by him. He had dark, brown hair that matched his long lashes, and a strong nose and full lips. His upper body was well trained, and his strong physique was clearly visible even with clothing on. The man was sitting on the wall opposite me and I could feel his strength emanating from him. The movements he made were fluid and deliberate, he demanded attention with only his presence.
First I did not notice his legs, or better said, the lack of muscle in them. When he moved to sit in a more comfortable position, he used both his arms instead of his entire body. While it was such a small detail it was also impossible to not see it. It seemed that below the waist he was unable to move. Then I remembered that I had heard of him before, rumours and faint whispers in the stables among the servants. I had heard others talking about a boneless man, a cripple; he was a man with many names. I never knew the face behind those murmurs, but it was clear to me that I had the man in front of me. He noticed me studying him, and a grin, one I could not fully understand, made his mouth turn upwards in one corner.
"Never seen a cripple before?" he said in a sneering manner. A clear voice with a rough tone, young yet experienced. Looking into his eyes gave me shivers and it took all of my willpower not to avert my eyes from his. He did not expect me to respond, much like the other people in this town. Foreign servants often did not speak their language apart from the basic words and I had hidden the fact that I could until now. It seemed safer; it certainly would save me from being asked questions that I was unable or unwilling to answer. However I could not resist speaking to him, as if the words were being pulled from my mouth.
"I have-," The first two worst were stuck in my throat, and I had to cough for my voice to regain its strength. "I have seen a cripple before." The words came out of my mouth tentatively. It was an odd feeling to speak again after not having said anything for over a month. I sighed, my attempt to sound confident had failed and I didn't understand why I felt the need to prove myself to this man.
Luckily he was more interested in what I had said, than in the manner that I had said it. Now was his turn to be quiet for a moment and I knew multiple questions were floating through his head. I realised that it had been an unwise decision to speak, for now this secret had come out and I did not know if he would keep it or what the consequences would be.
"Where?" He looked at me, again with those piercing eyes that held me in their grip.
A moment of silence. I always tried to keep my memories of home as far away as possible, tucked away in a small corner of my mind. Talking or even thinking about it made my heart heavy with sorrow. "Far away, in my homeland."
I fiddled mindlessly with a loose string hanging from the edge of my dress. Images of far stretching deserts and the faces of the people I loved invaded my brain, even though I tried to distance myself from those memories. I briefly closed my eyes, trying to hold back feelings that were desperately trying to break through.
"And where is that exactly?" The man's eyes shone curiously, while he slightly tilted his head to the side. For a moment, the movement made him seem like a young animal, eagerly analysing something that he hadn't encountered before. It made him look endearing, but the moment soon faded. I hesitated to answer. It was my own fault that he was asking about it, but I still did not like telling him about about my home, because I did not want to think about the events that led me here.
"I believe you call it Africa. I lived in a small village in the north."
He furrowed his eyebrows, thinking. I knew that he wanted to know how I got to Kattegat from so far away, but I did not wish to tell him. It still was all too fresh and it hurt me more than I'd care to show him. I looked at the puddle that I had created and remembered what I had came to do. I grabbed the fallen bucket from the ground and attached it again to the hook from the well. I hoped that the stable master wouldn't notice that I was taking so long. Up to this moment I had been able to escape any punishment, however I still feared it. One night I had witnessed how a stablehand had been horrendously treated for having made a mistake. I hoped that the man who had asked the questions would take the hint and not ask any further.
When I had filled the bucket again, a man was walking towards us from the road, approaching the man I had been conversing with. The older man had a long beard and many tattoos covering his head. It was an intricate design and I took a moment to admire them. Power radiated off of him, in spite of his ragged clothing. Even from afar I could see that the two held the same gaze behind their icy blue eyes.
"Come Ivar. I have something I need to talk to you about." Ivar. So that was his name.It suited him well, as if he had been given to the name, instead of the name given to him. When the older man got closer, I got the feeling that I had seen his face before. Then I remembered. He was the man I had seen in my vision; the person hanging from the tree. However in my vision he looked older, yet also younger at the same time. Almost as if he had been ageless. It was all too confusing and I wished that I could erase the vision from my memories.
Suddenly the older man looked at me.
"Do I know you?" he asked. It seemed like he genuinely wanted to know, as if he thought had seen me before.
"I doubt it." It did not feel the right place or time to tell him about what I had seen; about my vision. I didn't even know if I should tell him. However I had this feeling in the pit of my stomach that I needed to warn him. But warn him of what? I couldn't even explain to myself what I had seen, how would I explain it to him? He'd probably call me crazy and delusional, and maybe that was true. Nonetheless, the knowledge burdened me, as though the mountains that surrounded us were resting their weight on my body.
He looked at me for a few more seconds and then turned his back and walked away. I realised he was the second person I had told my 'secret' to. If I could call it a secret anymore, as now two people knew that I was capable of speaking their tongue. I sighed. No turning back.
The man on the wall, Ivar, skilfully made his way to the ground and followed him, not giving me another glance.
