Athelstan watched as his masters and their fellow raiders disembarked from their boat, gloating to those in the community of the plundering and riches that they had gathered on their most recent journey to the West. He had become used to this part of the Vikings; it was their way of life, their nature. But as he continued to stand at the end of the dock with Bjorn and Gyda, his attention was brought to the several new faces that continued to sit in the boat.

They were all women, young and middle aged, different stages of beauty apparent on their faces. It was their looks of fear mixed with disgust that was what equaled them out. Athelstan could only imagine that was what he and his brothers looked like when they had arrived to this foreign land how many moons ago.

"More slaves," mumbled Bjorn.

"Why do they bring them here? They do not look strong enough for hard labor," said Gyda. Athelstan knew the answer to that question but decided to leave the young girl in the dark for as long as he could manage.

The women were dragged from the boat and the people gawked at the appearance of them. When they had left the shores of their homeland, the ladies had been dressed in fine clothes; after some time at sea their garments were worn and tattered from the salt air. Athelstan felt warmth at his neck when he caught Rollo tugging at the ropes that kept the group together.

"They are available for sale as soon as we hit town. Follow us and you can have yourselves a pretty little slave." Rollo's voice is boisterous over the crowd, and his mocking laughter sent a chill down Athelstan's spine. "Except for this one. This one is mine."

The young woman looked to be around Athelstan's age if he was to guess. Her hair seemed to be brown in color but at the same time the sun created glints of auburn and golden tresses. He could see her green eyes sparkle with indignation. Her spirit would be broken soon enough, he found himself thinking, and was angered by it. If Athelstan could rid the world for the betterment of it, he would choose Rollo in an instant. His commandments said that 'thou shall not kill' but Athelstan was betting that Rollo was purely evil and damned to Hell anyway.

As the group of women was pulled roughly towards them, the young woman he had noticed almost ran into Gyda but Athelstan caught her before she could fall. Gyda gasped but he barely heard her as he was busy staring at the woman, and she at him.

"Come along lasses," Rollo growled, pulling them once more.

As they walked off to town Athelstan absently touched his arm, a burning feeling left after the woman's departure.

"Thank you, priest, for tending to the children and farm for us. Everything looks well in place," greeted Lagertha. "How has the yielding been?"

"All is going as planned. How was your journey?"

Ragnar smirked. "How did it look like it went?"

Athelstan played with his hands as the parents admired their ever-growing children. Instead of replying to his master, he decided to go back to his place in the fields. When he was first put to work it deemed itself too hard to him, but over time and with practice Athelstan's body gained muscle and endurance. Now if he missed a day of tending to the harvest, his body would whisper its displeasure to him.

He worked until his body could take no more and the early summer sun set behind the hills. Wiping his brow, he walked up to the house once more. His tunic was soaked with sweat and, shortly after passing through the entryway, he stripped it off and took some leftover water from the morning to splash over his chest to cool down.

"Will you be joining us for dinner, or are you going to continue on your own?" Lagertha questioned, eyeing her slave in appreciation. It always annoyed her when she and Ragnar would invite him to bed and he would continually fend them off. He was so different from her dear husband that she knew he would make an interesting addition to their bed.

Athelstan, who was now used to at least his chest being exposed to the people around him, put on his extra tunic. "Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I?"

She shrugged, turning around to join her family at the table. He followed her and sat at his designated spot. The children and parents exchanged stories of the days that had passed since they had last seen one another but Athelstan, who had plenty to add to the conversation, kept quiet. Instead he took in the dynamic of these people that he would never truly feel a part of. He had been lucky to be brought into the home of Ragnar and Lagertha because he could have fared quite worse, but he would never be fully integrated. Maybe it was for this reason that he could not, no matter how hard he tried, get the face of that young woman out of his mind; she was fairing worse, he knew it, and yet they had something in common—foreigners put into slavery.

"Priest, is something the matter?" spoke Ragnar.

Athelstan was brought back to reality and noted that the children had been motioned to bed and it was just he and the man of the home. "No. I'm sorry; I guess I'm just tired."

Ragnar looked at the man across from him as if he was trying to read his mind. "I know you, Athelstan. I know you are lying. Why are you not telling me what is troubling you?"

"It's not important."

"It is important to you, so therefore it is important to me."

Athelstan shook his head. He knew that the brothers had previous problems but had closure and since then had been joined at the hip. "I do not wish to speak ill of those you find dear, Ragnar Lothbrok."

His master's eyes widened slightly, pondering the slave's words. "My brother. What has he done this time?"
Athelstan fought internally on what to do; if he should say anything. But the man had insisted and so he would tell him. "The women you brought back as slaves; there was one who was to go to Rollo." He paused. "I am concerned for her safety."

"Why?"
Athelstan cleared his throat. "I do not pretend that I am unaware as to what purpose these women will serve. But Rollo…he's brutal, forceful, unyielding. If I—"

"If you what?"

He let out a rush of breathe in frustration. "I will also not pretend that I am unaware of where I stand in society. But Ragnar Lothbrok, if I had the means I would pay any price he asked for her just so that I could have peace of mind. I fear that I will not have rest from now until I hear…"

"Hear what?"

"Of her death."

Ragnar choked on the words that were passed to him. "You think so ill of my brother?"

"I know so."

"I see." The older man rubbed his calloused hands along his beard, deep in thought. "I am sorry to hear of your worry." He got up from his place at the table and went to his bedroom to celebrate the journey's victory with his wife.

Athelstan felt even more helpless than he already had.

As the dawn broke, the household stirred, eager to see a new day and all the possibilities that it brought. Athelstan's dry and tired eyes said otherwise, and his lack of rest made his bones weary and slow to movement. He wished with every part of him that he would not have seen that woman yesterday, or learned of her fate. He wished that he would stop caring.

Breakfast came and went. Athelstan taught the children their lessons in the morning and then turned his attention to the farm in the afternoon. He gathered relief from his thoughts in the day's work and in joking with Ragnar. It was shortly before dusk when Lagertha and Gyda returned from fishing; their dinner for the evening. But it was who joined them that caught his attention.

"Gather some rags and water, and build up the fire. She's barely with us," Lagertha ordered her men. She was supporting the weight of the young woman that Athelstan had feared for.

The woman's face was battered and beaten, and she had no energy to walk. Ragnar went over to help his wife, taking the human load onto his broad shoulders. Athelstan broke out of his shock and ran to the house to follow his orders. He placed his mat in front of the fire and added more wood to the hearth. Taking water and pouring it into a bowl, he gathered rags to place next to the bowl so that Lagertha had easy access.

Ragnar laid the small woman down onto the mat as gently as he could before backing off so that his wife could tend to her. Athelstan watched as Lagertha made amends of the stranger, praying to God that she would pull through and find her life in a better place.

"What happened?" Ragnar asked, terrified of the sight before him after the discussion he and his slave had just had the night before.

"We were fishing when we heard a strange noise coming from the shore. This woman appeared and told us that she had run from her master after he had raped and beaten her. Then she passed out."

Both men took this information and let it lay heavily on their chests and shoulders. Ragnar cursed his brother's name under his breath while Athelstan did so in his mind.

"Do you think she will survive?"

Lagertha looked up slowly at the holy man and said, "I don't know yet."

Athelstan decided that he would take night watch over the woman so that Lagertha could take a break and get some rest. As she lay unconscious on the floor, he imagined that her facial expressions were due to dreaming and not the pain she was sure to be in. Her features were delicate, and he couldn't imagine what would possibly bring anyone to harm such a creature. Then again, he couldn't wrap his mind around anything that Rollo did.

Just as he was on the brink of sleep himself, the woman gasped and sat straight up. Athelstan did his best to calm her and get her to lie back down, but her screams and will to fight back woke everyone up.

"Please, we won't hurt you," he said, trying to help Ragnar. "Just calm down and we can explain where you are at."

His efforts were futile and seemed to only make it worse. Thinking as quickly as he could, Athelstan turned to Lagertha and said, "Where did you get her from?"

"England, of course." Her expression was that of confusion.

Taking note that she probably did not understand a word he was saying, Athelstan changed back to his native tongue. "We are trying to help you. Please, what is your name?"

The woman's thrashing came to a halt and she stared at the male slave. "Helena. How do you—"

Athelstan shook his head. "I, too, come from the West. We mean you no harm. We only wish to help you and make you feel better."

The Viking family watched on in fascination as Helena's body relaxed and she laid back down, turning into herself. Athelstan placed a hesitant hand on her arm, backing off slightly when she jumped.

"My name is Athelstan. I was a monk and captured by these people several moons ago. I lived in Northumbria. Where are you from?"

"Canterbury."

Athelstan's eyebrows rose up and he turned to Ragnar. "You landed in a completely different part of England."

Ragnar and Lagertha exchanged dumbfounded looks.

"You landed in the southern tip on the east side of the country. You weren't even close to Northumbria, or anywhere that you've been landing."

The couple looked joyous at the news of a new discovery but the idea made Athelstan sick with worry. Helena looked as frightened as a newborn calf, and he pitied her because he completely understood.

"Don't worry," he whispered to her. "I'll keep you safe."