Pain is what woke me up, not just in my back, thighs, or shoulders, but my ear. My ear cartilage felt heavy and inflamed. I wanted to tell Ivar, in the apprehension of infection, but it was fear and pride that kept me quiet. How could I ask my tormenter to heal my wounds? It didn't make sense; it was as ironic as it sounded.
I would just have to suffer through it.
"There is a village three miles from here," I heard a voice say. The voice was too loud. I buried my face deeper into Ivar's back.
"Good, a mile from the village, we dismount our horses and raid," Ivar called out, his back vibrating as he spoke. I wanted to moan with discomfort, but I held myself. I didn't want another ear injured.
It seemed forever before they crossed three miles. Ivar untied my hands from about his waist and climbed off, his hands coming around my waist and with considerable gentleness, lifted me off the horse. He grabbed my arm and led me and his horse to the nearest tree.
"Sit," he commanded, and I ungracefully slumped down as he wrapped the rope around my waist and wrists, then tying his horse to the tree.
"I won't be long," he said.
As if that was supposed to comfort me, I mentally scoffed. Ivar grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. His pale blue eyes were hard, and his mouth was set into a thin line.
It was all I could do to not cry again; my chin was already trembling on dangerous territory.
"Now listen here," he said softly "I will be back and then you can do your business."
Speaking of business, I really needed to pee. How long can I hold it in for? Just as I opened my mouth to tell him so, he turned and walked away with the rest of his group. All of them stealthily disappeared into the forest, in plain daylight. I looked about; it was just me, the provisions, and the horses, and a few people, slaved, tied to posts, guarded by the warriors left behind.
In my dream, that thankfully came to me to keep my mind off my baleful situation, I was selfishly wishing that one of the other men, or Ivar, decided that they wanted another girl so that I may have some company. But I wouldn't wish my circumstances upon anyone. It was a mistake now, for me to be grateful that Ivar decided to like me. I was still smarting and the pain in my ear didn't seem to have lessened.
Twenty-five minutes into the Vikings' absence, I heard faint bells and even fainter screams, then, after a while, all else fell silent.
I must have been sitting in maddening loneliness for what felt like forever, but, it must have been three hours. They had come back then. They had new provisions, two carts of gold, food, and fresh provisions, and a third cart of tree people; one an old man and two children, both were bloody-faced, young, and with wide, glassy eyes.
My eyes unwillingly sought out Ivar, who mingled for a bit with a few of his comrades. He then turned to me and sauntered over, his face cool and blank. Ok, psycho. He squatted down; his breaths were coming hard, from the adrenaline that was fading. His hand sought out my injured ear.
"I have brought a healer for you," he announced, as though that was supposed to impress me. But he didn't seem remorseful for his actions, it would have been more impressive. It was not even a start.
"You spared the children," I noted.
"They were the only children around," he shrugged, and I stared at him, incredulously, as though he was dumb. There were children in the other village too.
"You didn't spare the children from the last village," I pointed out bravely.
"There wasn't any," Ivar shrugged. I could have sworn I have seen children.
"Why are there not many children?" I asked. The raid must have been successful because Ivar was pretty indulgent with my questions.
"All the men are preparing for war. They do not stay in the villages. They go for the capital; that is where they will be," he said, sounding cynical, as though he found my observation quite odd.
"But then you will need more men," I pointed out.
"We will meet our reinforcements there," he assured me.
"What if you don't-" I caught myself, sucking in a harsh breath, I didn't want to say anything that would offend him. I stared at him wide-eyed as his lips quirked upwards.
"If we don't meet them, then we will all go to Valhalla," he shrugged.
I didn't say anything else.
Ivar stood up and walked towards the human cargo wagon, and harshly pulled out the old man, who stumbled along as Ivar dragged him. I mourned such a sight.
"See to her," Ivar commanded, the old man cowered as he fell on trembling hands and feet and crawled towards me. He seemed to be searching for my ailment.
Ivar grabbed my chin over the man and twisted my head, more roughly than was required.
"Her ear," he spoke harshly, and the old man whimpered.
"We will need some boiled water and clean that," the man said, visibly trembling.
Ivar shouted a brief command that I didn't catch in the general direction of what looked like a young squire.
"What else?"
"We will have to put it on once every few hours to help clean it. It shouldn't take too long to heal," the man trembled.
"Good," Ivar said, picking the man up by his arm and I forced myself to hold my tongue as he dragged him back to the wagon with the two children.
Ivar walked back to me and squatted down again.
"Why can't you be gentle?" I squeaked when Ivar pushed the old man. He whirled towards me and I realized the error of my words and hurried to amend. "He is old, he isn't as strong as you, please be gentle,"
A little flattery won't do anyone harm.
"What is your name?" he asked suddenly.
"Yasmeen," I answered with some confusion. It seemed odd now that I realized he didn't know my name, but I knew his.
"Yasmeen," he repeated, leaning forward, his lips almost touching mine and it was all it took to not recoil from him. "My tender-hearted little bird; I will be gentle as you ask, what is there to lose?"
I don't know how to answer that. It was theoretical, so I didn't answer him.
"Thank you," I added, closing the distance between our lips, giving him an inexperienced kiss of gratitude. I felt him chuckle under my lips. I leaned back. What is he laughing about? He could at least be a bit more gracious. There goes my first kiss. What was I even thinking?
"That is quite the gratitude there," he teased, his lips brushing my hair before he untied my waist.
"Come, you must be full to the brim with shit," Ivar certainly has a charming way with words. It effectively ruined whatever imagined moment we might have had. So crass, this man.
The thought of my stuffed bladder hit me, and I had to squeeze my thighs getting up so as to not spill over myself. How he knew I don't know, but I was grateful, underneath all the embarrassment.
He walked me over a considerable distance from the camp.
"Do your business, woman," he said "Don't misuse the privacy I allow you and run away. I will hunt you down and spill your entrails for our game."
Well if it weren't a threat, I wouldn't know what it was, I thought sarcastically.
He turned and walked a few trees away, unbuckling his belt. I quickly dug up a hole and squatted down, lifting my skirts. I only prayed it didn't dribble down my legs.
Nasty business aside, I was finished in a trice; I began shoving the dirt back over the leaves and unmentionables with my foot. After I had cleaned myself and set myself right, I put my under-small-clothes back on and walked over to Ivar who was patiently waiting from a surprisingly respectable distance away. The horrible feeling that I have just been tested set my teeth on edge but I wisely ignored it.
I tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around.
"You are done, good. There are hot springs nearby, we will bathe there." He shoved my little make-shift sack in my arms. I had forgotten he still had that.
He led me through a maze of trees over to the pools. There were three pools, the larger of the two occupied by a great horde of men and the smallest on was occupied by only a handful of women and the two children from the raid.
"You will go with the women," Ivar informed me.
"I strip naked here?" I asked, horrified. Ivar looked down at me and smirked, but it seemed as though he were perturbed by my question.
"Would you rather your clothes are wet?" he asked me sardonically, a vicious glint in his eyes. "That can be arranged. Die early and spare me your questions."
I pouted, quickly shaking my head at his darkened expression, murmuring a quick 'nevermind, stupid question' . I walked straight to the pool and hid behind a tree. I stripped out of my clothes and neatly folded them, stuffing them inside the sack as I took out the linen sheets and the bar of soap. I wrapped the sheet around my body and my soap bravely clutched in my hand. I walked over to the women's side of the clearing, to the pool, and as I got in, I took off the sheet.
The warm water was so inviting that when I sat down, I moaned with delight. I looked at the two children who huddled themselves away from the rest. I waddled over to them, my bar of soap in hand.
"Hello," I greeted them, suddenly feeling shy. "Would you like to share?" I offered them my soap and the youngest, who must have been three, shyly looked at me, and he smiled, nodding. I looked at the older one, who was five, the girl nodded at me too. I let them scrub up first, occasionally helping them while I scrubbed myself with my hands.
Soon, all three of us were squeaky clean. I helped them get out, wrapping them along with myself in my sizable linen sheet. With their clothes in hand, I led them to the forest and helped them dry up and get dressed.
I dried myself up too and just as I was putting my small clothes on, I felt a hand going to my backside pinching me sharply. I yelped, my hand raised ready to strike, and I did.
"Jaevel--what is wrong with you woman?" Ivar hissed, holding my fist with one hand, squeezing with terrifying strength. I whimpered in alarm and in pain.
"Sorry!" I squeaked, trying to yank my hand away from the awful pain. I felt my bones would pop if he squeezed any harder. Ivar studied me for a second with his unnervingly blue gaze before he threw down my hand, almost dislocating my shoulder.
"Don't think to raise your hand to me again," he finally said but I imagined there were more unspoken words, threats.
"Sorry," I repeated dumbly. Ivar glanced down and smirked. I was naked.
The embarrassment that heated my cheeks was as painful as the injury on my ear. I suppressed an indignant shriek and yanked the linen towards my chest, trying to keep my modesty while literally folding into myself.
"What a strange body you have," Ivar mused, as though I was a bug on which he was experimenting.
"Look away," I snapped. He looked up at me and rolled his eyes.
"Your body is not that enticing," Ivar rolled his eyes. As if I couldn't see his dilated pupils.
"Well then that means you don't have to keep looking at it," I told him saucily.
"For such a young woman, you are strangely voluptuous, is that common where you are from?" He asked me, still looking at me.
"I don't know, I never bothered to look," I hissed, my back cramping from my awkward position. Still, the man wouldn't yield.
In an instant, his hand was at my linen and he ripped the sheet from me, I cried indignantly and squatted to the ground, glaring up at him helplessly. He had a knife attached to his belt. I really valued my life.
"Your feet," he observed mildly, squatting down next to me and grabbing an ankle, yanking it towards him with alarming force, making me topple on my bum. It gave me an opportunity to grab the linen sheet and cover my body.
"What are you doing?" I hissed frantically, trying to yank my foot back when he tugged on my big toe.
"What a strange body you have," Ivar repeated uselessly, his gaze non too conspicuously at the centre of my thighs which I covered, in futility, with my hands. Fucking perv. Finally, he got up with the gracefulness of a cat and looked down at me from his almost godly height.
"Get dressed," He snapped.
*~*~*
"Sit down," Ivar grouched as he led me away to the large bonfire. It was particularly chilly that night. The men circled around, their laughter loud, lively, and raucous. The women joined in too. All of them were holding horns of ale and bowls of food.
Ivar was handed a bowl. He sat me down in front of the bench on the soggy ground and I had to grit my teeth as the cold seeped in through my clothes.
Ivar certainly took his time eating, I couldn't see him, but I knew he was eating. Occasionally, his hand would come out and pet my hair. I was in the dawn of man, where women were cattle to be herded and shipped, where there were barely any rights. I barely counted as a human now, I was a slave. I was aware that I was treated better than most slaves with the Vikings. Maybe they had a moral code with their Norse Gods that I was not aware of.
My strange encounter with Ivar left me shaking. Has he never seen a woman like me before? Sure, there are women around camp, but everyone is fit. Even the priest seemed fit. It is rare to see heavy people walking around. Everyone was built from toil, no one was truly unfit. Bigger and heavier, but clearly built to manage labor. I was soft and marshmallow-y in comparison. It shouldn't be surprising that he never saw someone like me before.
What was with him and my feet anyways? I couldn't understand it, when I looked at other women's feet around camp, they seemed perfectly normal. I didn't think my feet were the strangest thing about me. I could understand my breasts been a more controversial topic than my feet. The women here were flat as pancakes. Ivar notices the things that people wouldn't usually notice. I wouldn't put it past Ivar. I didn't get many opportunities to see how his mind works but it wasn't hard to gather the general observations. I looked at my feet once more, realizing that there were some fading henna designs from my sister's wedding. That must explain his foot fetish. But it was so faint, I am surprised he caught it.
Back in Norway, if I was deluding myself, I would give my physical appeal a solid 6/10. I go to Morocco for the ego boost once every few summers so the number fluctuates. A while back some leaked group chat texts had leaked into the class group chat. Some of the more affluent boys in class, my then-crush cheif among them, had created a group chat where they rated the girls based on their attractiveness, fitness, and wife-y qualities. Myself and a few other immigrant girls ranked in the 1-3/10 section. Obviously, I was devastated. The memory still hurt my feelings sometimes but I learned to take it in good stride, I think. But now, with Ivar, presumed ancestor to the affluent Norwegian boys in class, was majorly attracted to me, and he was trying to downplay it (if he was even trying). Ivar, objectively speaking, is one of the fittest and most attractive men around these bleak, medieval parts and even more attracted to the joys who used hair gel and skin creams. That counted for something
Still, I couldn't help but commend his tastes. A 6/10 is perfectly balanced. Still, it was kind of a funny thought, if not bewildering.
He is crazy, my inner, more logical voice pointed out. I don't think you should be flattered by his attraction or commending it.
Yea, he is crazy. Eugh.
"Here," Ivar said. I wanted to open my mouth and accept the food, but I didn't want to presume. I knew he liked to poke fun. He might never do it openly, but he was always mocking me. I just know it, from the way the dimples on his face appear without him smiling, to the way his eyebrows raise with challenge whenever I say something. Anything.
Something hot was put against my injured ear. I squeaked in shock.
"What?" I began, trying to move away but his hand held my head in place.
"Stupid girl, I am helping you," Ivar said dryly, dabbing my injury soundly. He began stroking my curls.
"I confess, I have never seen hair as... villous as yours. I have known curls, but now they seem like waves compared to yours," he commented casually, his hand never lifting from my head.
If he would just stop commenting on my physical appearance, that would be dandy. I didn't know what to say so I didn't say anything.
"Should you not be speaking with your men?" I finally settled on, aloud. His hand froze.
"What do you mean?" he asked casually, I had no choice but to answer.
"I only meant that it is not good to isolate yourself from your comrades--" Ivar cut me off, resuming the stroking motions of his hands.
"They are not comrades; we do not have those terms. They are my brothers-in-arms. I do not isolate myself from them. I have been with them for so long, I get bored easily. Now shut up and eat," Ivar shoved something against my lips. I opened my mouth and I almost choked at the force of his hand.
"Eat," he said sharply, removing his hand from my hair.
I obediently chewed; trying to ignore the bubbling annoyance that I dearly hoped was not rage. When I am angry, I get impulsive. That is the one thing I did not need right now. My ear still hurt from my last 'lesson'.
It was amazing how quickly the raucous died down. Soon, everyone was on their sleeping mats and Ivar was tying my wrists together.
"I won't sleep at the tree today?" I asked hopefully, wiggling my discomfited wrists.
"No," Ivar said, "It is too cold"
He wasn't wrong, already the were flurries falling.
I appreciated that he answered my questions, even if he was not obliged to do so. His answers were enough to sate my curiosity, his brevity speaking louder than words.
He left me for a moment, to go to his horse. Soon he came back with a roll under his arm and a quilt in the other. He unrolled the sleeping bag.
"Come," he called sharply. I stumbled to my feet and walked over to him, "Get in."
It was a struggle with tied wrists, but I managed.
Ivar slipped in shortly, with all his disgusting grace and elegance, despite his leg braces, which didn't seem to hinder any progress.
I shifted to get comfortable; trying to pull my dress down, it was bundled underneath me.
"Are there laws?" I asked him, my voice hushed "Regarding the treatment of slaves?" I was quick to elaborate when he was silent. I didn't want to sound dumb.
Ivar was quiet for a moment "I suppose. Only to keep you fed and clothed, and healthy is all. For a slave to die within the servitude of its master shows incompetency on the master's part."
That is why he can be so kind, I thought with newfound understanding. It was not from the goodness of his heart but from legal obligation.
"Now sleep," Ivar commanded and I shifted. I felt a bruising grip on my arm.
"Ai," I squeaked, this man did not know the extent of his strength, I swear.
"Stop moving, sleep."
"My dress is uncomfortable," I whimpered, trying to wiggle out of his grip. He let go and I felt his hand yank down at my dress, I swear I heard a rip. I must admit, it did the job.
"Good?" he growled low in my ear. Blood was rushing in my head and my heart was pounding in my ears, fear making it race.
"Yes, thank you."
"Good, now sleep or it will be the tree, wench."
I gathered enough about him to know his threats were not empty. I obeyed.