With the last possession boarded, I was escorted from the old castle. My stepmother and siblings were crying painfully, and Mary had disappeared the previous day. Baron Ainsley was glowering his accomplishments. He had a new trading partner, and had gotten rid of me in the way he had always wanted.
I shed no tears and my farewells were mute. I had not spoken since Yngvarr Bodmordrson had tried to strangle me, three days ago. My throat was too damaged.
I instinctively knew that to cry would give my sire a final victory over me and I preferred death over letting him get any more satisfaction at my expense. I was made to walk near my master's horse, for slaves had no rights to ride unless permitted, and I had not been so. I was wearing my 3 chemises, several tunics, several skirts, stockings, and carried three more pairs of shoes hidden under my skirts. It had to be so, because my father had forbidden me of carrying clothes or shoes except whatever fit onto my person. When I would board the Knarr, I'd take out the extra items on my person, and fold it in a cloth. I knew, in a part that was myself, yet not myself, that I would never come back to this land.
I felt it deep within that however much he had thought to buy the vikings, my sire had made a terrible mistake. Flashes of the future revealed themselves to me as I walked. In one of them the sun glimmered off my master's sword as he cut off my sire's neck and I clenched my fist hard enough for my nails to puncture skin, trying not to cry.
Yngvarr had kept his promise. He had not spoken Saxon for the last two months, except when he almost killed me and the moment he had stepped outside the keep's walls, he no longer spoke the Norman tongue to anyone, not just me. He spoke his rough northern speak, and I understood about half of it because of his lessons. I always knew when he was talking about me even if he used different words. I felt it in my bones. Every time he spoke about me, I also heard the same words, min smukke pige. I wondered what they meant, but I could not ask. My voice was gone.
After half an hour of walking, we arrived at the river. His ship was big, with white and red sails, it had a strange animal on the front of it, but I did not know what it was I suddenly recognized it as a design similar to the one my brothers had boarded in the dream. Yet again I could not ask, but I was curious to know what that animal was.
There was a ramp of wood connecting the river and the ship, and my master dismounted his grey stallion. He gave the reins to another man, and he took the horse aboard. Then my master grabbed my arm, and led me towards the boat. I knew he was trying to prevent me from escaping, but where I could I escape to?
I boarded the ship at last and behind us the last men were entering the ship as well. The last one dragged the wood inside and we set off. I looked all around me, and noticed the noise of chicken. I walked slowly towards an opening in the ship, not wanting them to think I was trying to escape, and I saw several hens and goose. I also saw many men and women. They appeared to be in good condition, and none of them were shackled though it was obvious they were prisoners. They had been servants or slaves for a long time, so they knew how to behave and held no hope of escaping.
The sound of weeping from the front of the ship caught my attention. I walked towards it and saw another group of women there. They were all weeping and I knew these were the sold daughters of noblemen as heartless as my father. I wanted to calm them, to say everything was going to be ok. Indeed, I tried, but the only thing that came out of my mouth was whispers so low the wind snatched them away. One of them noticed me.
A small girl, 11 years at most, had red hair and green eyes. I sat beneath the strange animal, and motioned her over. She came, hobbling uncertainty on the balancing ship. I mentioned her to sit down and she did, looking at me strangely.
"Can't you talk, my lady?" I nodded my head in the negative and after looking at my bruised neck she wondered. "Because of your injuries?" I smiled at her cleverness and again answered by gestures.
From then on, the little magpie did not quieten, asking me all sorts of questions I had to invent new gestures to respond with. Several times, I felt eyes upon me, but I ignored them, feeling I had to make the best of my new life, not rehash and lose myself in the past, which had not been that good before anyway. Eventually, she remembered to tell me her name. Margery, but liked to be called Marge. She was the daughter of our closest neighbour, Lord Aen. It broke my heart to know he sold his own daughter too. He had always seemed like a good man.
"Who are you?" she wondered, and since this one I could not gesture, I traced my fingers in the wood, forming shapes.
"Great Lady! You're Ailith of Ainsley." I shook my head and made a gesture she guessed very easily.
"Used to be? Why? Did you renounce your family?" I snorted silently, making a gesture of tied hands. I was getting the way of gesturing meaningfully now, and after several hours our conversation was smooth and uninterrupted.
"Kidnapped?" She said scandalized. I gestured pretending to have monies in my hand and exchanging them. "Oh, OH, you were sold. Who would be so cruel?" I pointed to the only thing my father had let me keep from my rightful inheritance, a ring with our crest.
"Your FAMILY?" Her face was white, and shocked. I grimaced and gestured, didn't your family sell you too? She laughed without humor.
"Yes, I suppose you are right. Who am I to judge." She started crying again and hugged me. Her voice reached me through the dim of wind and my hair, muffling her voice.
"What is going to happen to us now?" Does it matter? We were sold, we are slaves. I wondered how she understood my gestures, but she did and it was enough. She hugged me again, for she had leaned back to understand my gestures. I felt eyes on me again, and this time I looked back, finding a pair of striking, viking eyes gazing back at me. They smoldered at me, I gazed back until Yngvarr had to continue his work and a small thrill of victory ran towards me. It amounted to nothing, but it was a start. The weeping women, I disregarded completely for I had no patience for foolishness and they were being fools. Crying would not solve their issues. The vikings valued strong women, and they were showing themselves rather weak. When the sun reached its peak, the viking came towards us with two wood plates of food and two wooden goblets filled with watered wine. I gestured my thanks and I could see my master's surprise. I wondered why having good manners surprised him. Suddenly his face darkened with anger and he disappeared towards his men. I looked down into our fare and saw smoked meat with greens, boiled fish with braised leeks and peas. I wondered how he had managed such a delicious meal but then remembered father had ordered the cook to make food for the men.
Even though it was cold, I ate it all and washed it down with the delicious watered wine. Marge was still with me and I understood that she had now affixed herself to me and distanced herself from the weeping women. When I asked her why, she answered simply.
"Even though you are a slave, the vikings respect you Lady. After wondering why, it dawned on me that you are the only woman who is acting courageous, strong and brave. These men live in a harsh land, they are harsh men. By showing your strength they respect you. Look at the weepers lady, they have not been fed yet even though they must be as hungry as we were. No. I have a better chance allying myself to you." I was surprised, but then again, I had noticed how smart this lass is.
You are correct lassie. They despise weakness and you will be better served in being strong. I have been coveted among them since I defied my sire and earned a spanking so severe I was bedridden for 3 weeks. Master told me they respected me for enduring my punishment in silence. I was unwilling to say more. But she had to know this.
"You are certainly not humble, are you lady?"
I am a survivor. What served me the dutiful woman I was? I am a slave. I sneered. She agreed with me and then we lapsed in silence. We hugged each other for warmth and looked about us. All the men followed what Lord Yngvarr ordered, and they all ignored the weepers. They went about their duties, controlling the great ship, steering it through the deep river taking us away from Blythburgh, the port the Vikings had first captured. When the canal ended, we would sail the North Sea towards the Viking's Northern Land.
The men were alert, always watching the cost. When the sun had dipped to the treetops, Master Yngvarr gave orders and the Knarr's fleet was moored. The men left the ship in groups, with my viking master staying behind to protect the ship while they disappeared into the forest.
The men came back a short while later with rabbits, birds and a deer. They did not board the ship however, and made fires in the bank instead. They cooked the food and brought it to us. Finally, the weeping women were fed as well, and they quieted down. If I could have spoken, I would have demanded their silence long ago. Marge whispered to me how much they glowered at us, who seemed to be treated better than them. I gestured her to tell them if they wanted to be similarly treated they should behave like women not spineless twits. She laughed but did indeed say that to them. They gasped in offense and Marge and I laughed, truly laughed, for the first time since we had entered the ship.
While I had been observing the men today, I had picked out several new words from their northern tongue. Each day I learned more, thanks to the lessons Yngvarr had given me.
During the four weeks of voyage that followed, I had started to understand even more fluently. Marge learned with me, but she could not pronounce it, only understand it.
Every night, Lord Yngvarr gave us furs to sleep on. I knew he wanted to lay on the furs with me but he had no chance, for Marge never left me alone and would not stop hugging me at night. Rather than face ridicule by making confusion, he let us be. I was glad, but my fear escalated. I knew he wanted to lay with me to possess my body and break my maidenhead but he did not, and that worried me for I preferred it to be done and over with than to wonder incessantly on it and about it.
I had vivid examples every night however. The women who wept most loudly during the day were sought at night, and I saw the big, burly men using them vigorously, their cries were first of pain and then of pleasure. They varied positions, sometimes the women were on top, sometimes the men. The women tried to cover their bodies, but it was useless and they were ravished in front of everybody. By the voyage's end, the women were silent and stayed in their places without fussing. I wondered if there was any virgin left among them, or they had learned their lesson before that. More, I wondered if there was any without a child in her belly.
They hated Marge and me, but were powerless of trying to provoke us harm, although if they were in their homes, I doubt I'd still be alive so large was their hatred for us. They wondered continuously why we were better treated than them, and I had lost the patience of explaining to them that norse men did not respect weak men or women. They wanted to be foolish, let them be, and let them pay the consequences of it.
One night, I heard the men say we were arriving in mid afternoon the next day, and I gestured Marge, for she could understand but only a few words. Dread swallowed me whole, though I tried to control it as much as I could.
"Yes! I'm glad for this ride to be over, my backside is so sore I can barely move." I laughed silently.
During the voyage I had kept trying to get my voice back, but I could only say two, mayhap four words before my throat seized and I could do it no longer. I knew which herbs could aid me, but I had no access to them in a ship, and who knew if they grew in the northern lands.
That night I slept dreadfully.
Lady Ainsley was in the birthing chair, screaming in pain. Elvia was there, kneeling despite the pain it caused her.
"You can do it, Lady. Just a little bit longer. The head is almost out."
She screamed mightily, but the babe was stuck sideways and unable to move. Each time a little more of the babe came out blood dotted the floor.
"Help me Elvia!" She pushed, screaming out, and her eyes suddenly went blank. Her breathing and heart stopped. Blood started pouring out. At the same time, I saw something moving through her veins, something like a ball. It moved through her body following a strange path until it arrived at her chest. Her scream cut mid through and she started choking. Her face turned blue. Elvia and the woman laid her down on the bed, careful with the babe still stuck inside her, but the lady wasn't breathing any longer.
"She's dead!" Elvia wailed and the women started tearing at their hair, forgetting the child for a second. Elvia didn't, and settled between the deceased's legs.
The babe's head came out and it screamed in pure outrage. All together, the women cracked the lady's bones to set the child free.
A tiny girl finally emerged, blonde and blue eyed. She was big for a newborn, and looked everywhere attentively. A tiny voice whispered in the back of my head. She has a touch of destiny, for she has been borne from death's embrace. My ghostly self shivered and I could swear the child looked straight at me and smiled.
I woke up with the sun in my eyes and my face wet with tears. Marge still slept, so I left our furs carefully, trying not to awaken her. I walked back and forth on the ship, trying to clear my head and the remnants of the dream. After walking several times, I leaned on the railing, staring at the North Sea, thinking about my poor stepmother Annelise. I felt an arm come about my waist pulling me towards a strong chest. I knew who the arm belonged to.
"You may not be fair, but you are certainly beautiful. My beautiful girl." Oh, so that's what min smukke pige meant, my beautiful girl.
"I am glad you do not yet understand our tongue for I would not say it to your face, but it pains me I have to deliver you to my brother. He is a most respected man, Throst Ardwynsson, kind and loyal. He is my eldest brother. I have the utmost respect for him. You will make a most delightful slave and I would take your maidenhead for myself, except I think you are more precious to me as a gift." He laughed but there was something in his laugh that made ice run down my scarred back.
"After receiving you he would be owing me a gift and as passionate as I suspect you will be, he will feel most grateful to me." I pretended not to understand him, although my blood boiled. Once again treated as chattel. As nothing more than a pretty necklace. I kept my body loose and relaxed although I wished, more than anything, to hit him.
"I miss home. And my children. I can barely wait to be between my wife's thighs again." Did he? Then why had he lain with Mary? I seethed in angry silence.
"I hope you will understand our Norse soon. Your maidservant Mary is coming with us, in another ship. By Thor's hammer you made me feel so guilty I lost my temper. I regret to hurt you, I should not have done so for several reasons. You are more valuable to me well, and my brother will not be as satisfied with you now." That... SWINE!! I fumed. I wanted to slap him so badly that I started to shake. But he, mistaking my shiver of anger for a shiver of cold, gave me the spare cloak he had draped on his arm and I had not noticed until now.
"For you." He mumbled, and wrapped me in it. I didn't know what to do so as to not alert him to the fact I understood him, so I just wrapped the cloak around me tighter and came back to Marge's side. I laid down, and the young girl immediately held me again. Yngvarr kept looking at me, but I ignored him, pretending to fall back asleep again. I had not stretched enough, but I would rather stay in the furs than to be followed by the big viking.
I also kept hoping me he would not use me before sending me wherever he was going to send me.
When I was certain nobody was looking at me, I buried my head in the furs and cried for my stepmother and the little girl newly born. Annelise was such a good, kind woman. She didn't deserve such a death. Who would my father marry next? Marge's eldest sister, a young girl of 14? I was suddenly glad his death was marked to next summer, before his mourning year was done. May he be cast into the deepest hell.