The tensions were high- Mary could feel it in the air around the village. Ivar became very secluded, and altough the agreement with King Harald was reached quickly, they still spent a lot of time mouling over battle plans. Nobody told Mary anything about Kattegat, or even the basics of the battle that was about to unfold. She assumed it was because nobody trusted her as a christian slave. Even if I wanted to, how it would be possible to betray any of you? She thought often.
Lack of trust was why she wasn't allowed in the longhouse while the meetings went on. That wasn't too concerning to Mary: she had a lot of free time, but listened to Ivar's warning and didn't venture anywhere far, opting to do housework and prepare supplies for the battle instead. Although the situation was worrying: Tamdrup was a secluded place, and it was winter, which meant there was no way to restock her supplies.
One day Mary spotted a woman, queen Astrid, leaving the longhouse and not long after, the men left too. That evening she asked Ivar if they included women in their battle plans too. Ivar chuckled before responding.
"Of course. Usually they are soldiers, but Astrid is Harald's wife, so she wanted to be part of strategy as well."
"Why did they marry? Is she a princess of another kingdom?"
Ivar laughed out loud this time and shook his head.
"No, no, nothing like that. Harald had been kidnapped by Lagertha not so long ago, and he met Astrid there. She was Lagertha's lover. Harald fell in love with her and as he escaped, he took Astrid along, married her and made her his queen."
Mary thought for a moment. "So... she's a lover of an enemy of the King?"
"Harald married her. She loves him now," Ivar said patronisingly, as if arguing with a child.
"She was abducted by Harald, and now, she's creating battle plans against Lagertha?"
"Yes."
Mary looked Ivar in the eyes for a few moments, debating wether she should point out the obvious flaw in their plans, but in the end decided to hold her tongue. Her mother's words rang through her head They are grown men. They should figure this out on their own.
Looking back, perhaps she was ought to warn Ivar. But then again, Mary found it hard to feel guilty. She saw queen Astrid walk around faceless, turned into a nervous wreck, and was sure the woman had managed to warn Queen Lagertha. The peace negotiation failed, Ivar's army was obliterated and bishop Heahmund switched sides (not a big surprise as well). Ivar had been too confident, and now was busy licking his wounds and already on the edge. She saw his brothers and even the King starting to doubt him. The subcontious insecurity might have been the reason why Mary was suddenly allowed to attend the war meetings, as they were planning for the second battle of Kattegat.
However, the salvation came when duke Rollo of Normandy arrived. Mary had heard about the Father of the Normans, the brave defender of Paris, the heathen-turned-christian, but it was still difficult to believe that the old man in expensive clothes standing in the middle of the longhouse was, in fact, as much of a viking as Ivar.
After a rather forced, but regardless collected greeting from Ivar the men moved to a more private sudy and Mary used the chance to brief Ivar on news about his soldiers: she had just visited the injured and had to report back. As Rollo was picking the softest fur to sit upon and Ivar had already settled on a chair, Mary quickly ran up to him and courtsied briefly.
"Ivar, most of your soldiers are recovering well and there are no signs of any disease spreading. Thus far no one has died from injuries, except for those who perished immediatly after the battle. Also, thralls seem to have caught upon the basic principles of care and are performing their duties well. However," she leaned closer and lowered her voice, "they are worried about following battles."
Ivar's face darkened- she already knew that look: it said that he felt betrayed. "BUT- there are no signs of uprising. The people are merely upset. Yet, you must redeem yourself, and soon."
She once again courtsied and turned to walk away, but Rollo was studying her curiously. He was surprised, so Mary assumed he hadn't spotted her earlier. She courtsied to him, "Majesty."
"Now that's unexpected. Ivar, how did you get yourself a nun?" Said Rollo and leaned sideways to look at Ivar over Mary's shoulder.
"In York. She's a thrall," Ivar replied coldly.
Mary wondered how should she talk to Rollo. Christians didn't have slaves, thus for him she should not simply be a free woman, but even more important- a nun. On the other hand, he was a viking and was in the Viking land. He was brother of the famous Ragnar Lothbrok, and now joined his heathen son.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, duke Rollo. Many kind words had reached us from Paris," she said. When Rollo smiled, she added, "I hope you find your stay here pleasing. I will ensure that needs of you and your men are met."
Without waiting for a reply, even fearing to receive one, Mary stepped away, courtsied to both men and darted out of the room.
"So, you've found yourself your Athelstan," said Rollo. Him and Ivar were sitting on a bench outside the longhouse and observed the people running around with their duties. The sun was already setting, and further away thralls were rushing to finish with loundry. Basked in orange sun, Mary stood there as well: her face was serious and she looked very focused on her task. Ivar watched as she shook a crumpled piece of fabric high in the air, and closed his eyes in embarrassment as it detangled itself into his underpants. He heard Rollo chuckle through his nose. Ivar thought back, that for quite some time now, his laundry came back not simply washed, but also smelling pleasantly. Even his socks were being sorted and put in matching pairs- he had never noticed that they all were slightly different and simply wore them at random.
The mention of his father's monk friend/ rumoured lover angered him. Ragnar's legacy should be his battles, not messy christian affairs.
"What are her duties anyway?" Rollo spoke again. Ivar didn't turn to him.
"Does my laundry. Serves me food. Gives me baths. Looks over soldiers."
"So she's your Dame de compagnie," when Ivar looked at him confused, Rollo explained. "That's what they call these women in French court."
Soon Mary found herself attending another council meeting, quietly mending Ivar's tunic as the men spoke among themselves. Ivar had begun to raise his voice once again.
"In order to win, we must overwhelm them, Ubbe," he said. "But, may I remind you again, dear brother, our armies are EVEN!"
That phrase had been said many times by Ivar, and even Mary couldn't hold back any longer.
"But that is not the question, is it?" She suddenly exclaimed, her voice frustrated, but still kind.
Her sudden interjection startled everyone in the room and the men turned to her, their faces a mixture of outrage and surprise.
"What do you mean?" he asked, surprisingly calmly. Mary stopped fidgeting with her work and took a deep breath.
"You're looking for a way to overwhelm the enemy, but instead you're focusing on the army size. That is unrelated- solders never fight at exactly the same moment, right? It's impossible. Thus, the army size is always changing, therefore, unimportant. Now, how do you overwhelm the enemy, when total number of your men doesn't matter? Think, Ivar, you know the answer! Think!"
Ivar's eyes slid away from Mary, but suddenly, a thoughtful look crossed his face.
"The fighting soldiers are what matter," he muttered to himself and turned back to the map. The men looked between him and Mary in confusion. "If only fighting soldiers are on the battlefield, the fight is continuous. And if..." he looked up at his men, his eyes alight and Mary now completely forgotten. "These soldiers never stop coming, Lagertha will have to fight without stopping, along the soldiers who are not engaged at the moment. We will release smaller, faster groups to charge. This way, we will have more control on the battlefield, seeing which parts need reinforcement, and at the same time we will always have back up soldiers."
***
The battle was a sight to behold. Ivar and Harald emerged victorious, claiming Kattegat as their own. The aftermath was bittersweet – queen Astrid died, slain by Lagertha herself, and she, Bjorn and Heahmund fled. Ivar finaly had the world under his feet: he was the king of Kattegat.
The hall was filled with loud voices of warriors and and common people of Kattegat as Ivar hosted a grand feast in his newly reclaimed city. He was casually talking to Harald, but his eyes were focused on the one person who stood out in the room - Sister Mary. Clad in her black habit and veil, as usual, she stood in the shadows, ready to approach Ivar immediately if needed.
Ivar was confused and that made him angry. He hated christians, but had tried numerous times to seduce her, yet each attempt had been met with rejection. He was telling himself he only did this to ruin her life, to make her 'sin', even if he was aware of his capabilities with women.
In a sudden turn of attention, Ivar gestured toward Sister Mary. "Sister Mary," he called out, his voice ringing above the chatter of the hall. "Come forward. Come here," he beconed with his finger.
All eyes turned toward her, and she approached Ivar with grace, though she knew this was not going to be a pleasant encounter. "How may I serve you, my lord?" she asked.
Ivar grinned maliciously. "I want you to entertain us. Play a love song, and make it... intriguing," he said, his eyes narrowing with a cruel glint.
Mary, calm and composed as ever, nodded. She walked to where a lute rested, sat down comfortably, and began to sing:
"What you're looking for won't be found easily
It grows upon the mountain, in a sacred place
Up beyond the clouds an ancient ground, so they say
And many men have died trekking up that way
Once he's gazed upon her, a man is forever changed
The bravest men return with darkened hearts and phantom pain"
The hall fell silent, captivated by her voice and the melancholy of the song. Even Ivar, caught off guard, sat in stunned silence, his eyes following her fingers on the lute.
But he quickly composed himself and decided to mock her further. He straightened up in his throne and tore his eyes away from Mary. "Won't your God punish you?" he taunted, sneering at her. "How does a nun know such things?"
Mary arched an eyebrow, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Well, I wasn't born a nun, was I?"
A ripple of laughter spread through the hall, and Ivar's attempt at humiliation backfired. He felt his heart twist within him, a mix of anger and something else he couldn't quite pinpoint. Sister Mary lightly patted the lute with her palm and went back to her spot by the wall, satisfied at leaving Ivar frustrated. Yet, she immediatly observed his eyes shifting from her to the blonde slave girl, Freydis. She looked him in the eyes, and walked to him self-assuredly. There was a certain intensity in his gaze, a fondness that hadn't been present before. Mary couldn't hear their exchange, but the subtle body language spoke volumes. Ivar was captivated, and Freydis, with a bravery of her own, engaged him in conversation. Mary had rarely seen Ivar's eyes sparkle with such intense emotions- usualy they burned, or froze, but this time he was elated. He hugged girl's waist, and she caressed his shoulders. It wasn't Ivar's regular display of power, and the girl wasn't acting like a common thrall either.
The hall's atmosphere shifted, and Mary couldn't pinpoint the exact emotion welling up inside her. It wasn't jealousy, for she had no claim on Ivar's affections- she was married to Jesus himself. Instead, it was a gnawing worry. Ivar, usually so composed, now was under the sway of something very powerful, and unaware of where he was stepping.
As Ivar declared Freydis free with an exuberant proclamation, Mary's gaze followed the young woman as she gracefully left the hall, a soft smile playing on her lips. Ivar locks his heart, but then loses the key.
***
Duke Rollo grew from a mystery to a headache, especially for Mary. She was sitting behind a desk in the main hall, a quill in her hand and a wide page of parchment in front of her as she recorded the details of the meeting between Ivar, Rollo, King Harald, Ubbe and Hvitserk. Rollo placed a steep price for his support and to add to the insult, claimed he will search for Lagertha. He was an ally, but not fully committed, and Mary couldn't figure out his reasoning. Ivar, meanwhile, realised he was backed into a corner and was growing more restless by each minute. Mary knew, that he knew he had to agree. The question was how smoothly this will proceed.
"His majesty agrees to your demands," said Mary as she scribbled the last word without looking up at the men. When she did, she saw Ivar's eyes blazing with anger and Rollo watching her with curiosity. "We will seal this with your signature and stamps of Ivar and witnesses."
At that very moment, Ivar didn't start an argument, but when he and Mary were left alone, he remained seated on his throne, gripping the armrests tightly.
"Do you know what 'thrall' means?" he hissed. "I have spoiled you. You seem to have forgotten your place- you are supposed to sit, write and stay quiet."
Mary looked at Ivar. He looked like he was about to explode from anger.
"I know you are furious because I spoke for you. But everybody in the room knew you had to agree with Rollo. We have a year to pay the demands, and I will postpone it until the last day. Now, however, I want to know why Rollo is so demanding in the first place," Mary said rolling up the parchment and added, "I... know some people in the Frankish court. If you have people, who can deliver letters securely and confidentially, I might figure things out."
Ivar exhaled sharply, but didn't argue. Mary took that as a good sign.
"You're young and smart, that's why you're a great military tactitian. But politically, you're cluelless. That's why you should take advice from those, who know better. The earlier you realise that, the more mistakes you will avoid."
She guessed these last words will not sit well with Ivar, but she could not care less. She had to find Hvitserk as soon as possible.
Mary spotted the young man leaving one of the huts, a young woman seeing him out. At the moment, however, she had to focus on other issues.
"Prince Hvitserk," Mary walked up to him quickly and spoke without bowing first. "I will need you to send few of your most trusted men on a short mission."
Hvitserk looked her up and down and furrowed his brows. "Why?" he asked. Mary motioned him to follow her a little further from eyes of the passersby.
"Duke Rollo is an unstable ally, and Ivar's position is already wobbly," she said. "I must figure out why he's here, why he supports Ivar and yet- why he seems resentful and has demands that would cripple the very man he supports."
Mary made a pause for Hvitserk to answer, but when he didn't say anything, and instead looked at the sea, rubbing his chin, she continued, "Rollo is going to look for Lagertha tonight. And I want to know what he finds."
Hvitserk finally looked at her. "Spy on my uncle?" he asked.
"Spy for your brother," Mary countered.
AN
1) "Rex", triptych by M. K. Čiurlionis
2) Illumination from Revelationes, XIV century in Himmelska Uppenbarelser, Tryggve Lunden, Alhems Forlag, Malmö, 1958
lyrics for the song that Mary sings were borrowed from "La Belle Fleur Sauvage" from Lord Huron.
AN
If Mary's manner of speaking seems familiar, you're not mistaken- her character is loosely based on a nun from 2020 BBC's adaptation of "Dracula". Sister Agatha was the one who roused my fascination with nuns. If you're interested, I have a short work "Blanche's blood" based on that show.