Childhoods, Part II

Advent of a Hunter

Astrid turned out to be a decent hunter – the turkey was just the start. She set out snares and caught a few rabbits. One day, she managed a pair of pheasants. She even shot a deer, though she had to fetch one of the local boys to help her drag it back to the village. What was more, Sigi appreciated her efforts very much, and Astrid seemed to be putting on a little weight. She didn't consider herself to be a skilled archer, but she was competent enough to keep everyone happy.

It had started a few years ago, when she was about fifteen. It was a dry summer. Boys returning from the fields said the farmers were fretting about their crops. The Sisters worried about the well running dry. Deer, goats, and other game began moving on to better climates, making the predators bolder and more desperate. When wolves attacked sheep in the pasture, the young orphan shepherd barely escaped with his life. The Abbess decided that, although their order rejected weapons generally, children working in the fields or pastures should somehow be armed. Local farmers and nearby villagers managed to donate a few axes. Baron Rolf, the richest man around, provided funds to buy some bows and arrows. While neither the young lady called Frida nor Babyface spent much time outside the abbey, they were required to learn the bow, too.

Using a bow properly was harder than it looked! Young Frida was surprised at how much strength it took just to pull the bowstring back. After a couple of lessons from one of Lord Hakkon's men, she and Babyface began practicing on their own in the yard outside the kitchen, using a bail of straw as a target.

After a few weeks, both of them could hit the target, or near it, dependably. Babyface considered that a success, as he viewed archery as a duty, but ultimately something that interfered with baking and learning letters and numbers. Frida wasn't satisfied, though, and kept practicing. She knew she needed more strength, so she took on additional chores, like chopping firewood, to build up her muscles. From a safe distance, Babyface cheered her on. He fashioned her a fancier target from some scrap wood, complete with a picture of a snarling wolf for her to aim at. "I'll make you an apricot tart if you hit it!" he said.

She got her apricot tart.

One morning late that summer, Frida was in the kitchen preparing for her chores when she was alarmed by commotion in the chicken coop. The hens seemed more disturbed than normal, and she thought she heard sniffing and panting, as if some other animal were prowling out there. She went to the window, and peeking through the shutters, saw a wolf trying to squeeze into the henhouse! She considered calling for help, but she knew there was no time. Maybe she and Babyface could chase the wolf away, but that would put both of them at risk, and she didn't want Babyface injured. And even if they succeeded in driving the wolf off, it would only come back.

The wolf had to go.

She removed her bow and quiver from their hook on the kitchen wall. She tried to set up a shot from the window, but she couldn't get a proper angle. It was no use; she would have to go outside. She opened the door as quietly as she could, and crept out. From the door, she had a reasonable shot. If she took three steps to the right, it might be better. She nocked an arrow, and sidled slowly, praying the wolf wouldn't hear. The wolf was still pawing at the henhouse door as she began drawing the bowstring. It would have been an easy shot if the wind hadn't changed, if the wolf hadn't picked up her scent, shifted, and sprung at her all in one fluid movement.

"Frida! Frida!" She heard Babyface and the Sisters calling her name. She felt like she was being crushed and smothered. Something wet dripped down her neck. "Get it off her!" someone yelled. The weight lifted away; she could breathe easier. "Frida! Are you hurt?" Babyface seemed almost in a panic. She tried to get up. The Abbess's hand eased her back down. "The wolf is dead," she said, she said sternly. "We are very lucky you are alive." The Abbess began poking and probing the young lady's body, checking for injuries. "You are covered in blood," she said, "but it does not appear to be yours." Babyface and the Abbess helped her sit up. She glanced to her left. The wolf carcass was lying on its back. Her arrow had pierced its neck, which accounted for the blood soaking her dress. She saw her bow lying in the dust to her right, still in one piece. The Abbess directed one Sister to prepare a bath, while another went off in search of something to replace the ruined dress. Babyface helped the young lady up, and led her back inside.

It started to rain hard that afternoon.

The rest of the summer was wet, too. While the harvest wasn't great, it was far better than people had feared, and when the surrounding villages put on their autumn festivals, people had reason to celebrate. These festivals naturally featured markets as well as celebrations, so the Abbess sent Frida and Babyface to the closest one with a shopping list and a little extra money for a treat. The pair always enjoyed these journeys, though they were becoming a little bittersweet. When they were younger, most of the orphans would make the trip. Lately, though, their number was dwindling as the older orphans grew up and found positions in farms, skilled trades, and the like. At the festival, they spotted a young cobbler occupying a small booth, and recognized him as one of their former "brothers." The cobbler remembered both of them as well. "It's Frida the wolf-killer," he smiled, "your reputation rides ahead of you! What is it now? As many as ten wolves?"

The young lady blushed while Babyface tried to hide a scowl. "Only one!" she laughed, "And it nearly squashed me!" But she enjoyed the attention, and as they walked away, she turned and saw the cobbler still smiling at her. She smiled back. To repair Babyface's bruised ego, she bought him a happy yam.

It was late in the afternoon when Astrid returned to the inn. She'd snared another rabbit, and was able to get a clear shot at a goose. Sigi would be sure to appreciate the day's haul, she thought, but when she opened the door, she saw Sigi sitting at one of the tables, staring at her somberly. "Astrid, someone has come here from the south," Sigi said, "to visit you." Astrid then spotted the man rising from a seat by the fireplace. He was one of the tallest men she'd ever seen, with a dark complexion, wearing loose fitting red trousers, a grey tunic, and a cape. He raised an eyebrow when he met her gaze, as if he'd caught a child doing something naughty.

"Hello, Frida," he said.

What Happened to Baron Axel

"I am Armand," said the man. "You and I have much to discuss."

Suddenly, Astrid felt very, very cold. She could see no possible escape. The man had tracked her as far as this village; no doubt he could track her wherever she went. He was far too large to overpower, and even if he wasn't, she didn't want to fight in front of Sigi.

Sigi – that was the worst part of it. She'd drug Sigi into all this. She'd let Sigi down.

"You, you're going to kill me now?" the young woman trembled. Sigi looked equally troubled, her mouth slightly agape, tears forming in her eyes. Her husband the innkeeper came up the stairs at that moment, looked in wonderment at the tall man who seemed to occupy the entire inn by himself, and uttered not a word.

"No, at this moment, I'm going to ask you questions. I suggest you answer them." Armand's tone made that alternative seem worse, somehow. "So, Frida the Wolf-Killing Orphan, what, exactly, happened to Baron Axel?"

What happened to Baron Axel, Astrid thought, was exactly what could have happened to me.

Things were changing at the Abbey. There weren't many orphans left, and Frida and Babyface found themselves the eldest of those who remained. It was time for them to move on, the Abbess said, and find a place in the world. Babyface had continued his work as a baker, but was equally skilled with writing and numbers. Lord Hakkon's steward thought he would make a perfect court scrivener, and could start right after the harvest.

Frida's case was more difficult. The Abbess had always considered her a smart, conscientious girl, well on her way to becoming a responsible young woman. She had learned to read alongside Babyface, and while she didn't have Babyface's patience to copy page upon page of text, she helped the younger children learn. She had managed the abbey garden for several years now, but there weren't many farmsteads that needed an additional gardener. Frida was pretty, friendly, and kind, too. When she went to the village, young men smiled at her, and she smiled shyly back. The Abbess knew about all this, but thought Frida was too young for a husband.

Frida could hunt; that much was true. The wolf that sprang at her a couple seasons before wasn't the last one to fall to her bow! She'd killed at least three more since then. One fall morning, she had gone to the pasture with the shepherd boy when they were set upon by a trio of wolves. She shot the first one before it even got close. The second fell as it looked back at its slain compatriot. The third escaped, pursued by the shepherd's dog. Frida's final kill came near the village the following spring, when she spied a lone wolf trailing two children on the path to the creek. Their grateful mother made sure everyone knew about the wonderful girl from the abbey, so Frida found herself somewhat famous.

But the Abbess didn't want to send her young charge out into the world as a huntress. The trouble was, in that region there weren't many options for a young woman with no family, regardless of her talent. The only thing the Abbess could do was wait patiently for a good situation.

She certainly knew there were some bad situations. One day that summer Frida returned with Babyface from market, looking red-eyed and stricken. The Abbess sent Babyface to the kitchen and led Frida to the courtyard to listen to her story. They were at the market, Frida explained, and, having completed the shopping list, they were listening to a minstrel singing a funny, funny song. After Babyface tossed a coin at the minstrel's feet, they turned to go, but found their way blocked by an enormous man with a huge, black beard, shaggy black hair, and watery eyes. He was dressed in tight, dark green trousers, a baggy red shirt, and a black cape trimmed in wolf's fur. Behind him were two muscular, sandy-haired men wearing ordinary farmer's clothes, probably brothers.

The bearded man looked Frida up and down, grinning. Frida didn't like how he was looking at her. She liked it even less when he clasped her chin with his fat fingers. "Oho!" he said, chuckling. "You are the wolf-killer! I've heard about you! Pretty, pretty girl, but so dangerous? Oho!"

"I'm sorry, sir," Frida said. "I don't recall –"

"Oho! You don't know me, but you will! Everyone knows Baron Axel!" Baron Axel leaned over and brought his face very close to Frida's. "And some people," he leered, "learn to love him!" His breath was bad enough to make Frida cringe. "I could use a wolf-killer at my manor," he laughed. "Maybe you come work for me! Be my chambermaid!"

"I cannot –" Frida started, but Baron Axel grabbed her arm. "You think about this!" he said. "Oho! I know you will want to come!"

"Now just wait!" Babyface interjected. He tried to push between Frida and Axel, but Axel staggered him with a slap to the ear.

"Go back to your crib, baby boy," sneered Axel, "and don't waste my time!" He nodded to his bodyguards, and turned to leave. Looking back at Frida, he said, "Just think! A life in the manor with Axel! What more could a pretty girl want? Oho!"

"I've never seen that man before," Frida told the Abbess. She felt safer back at the abbey, but the fear and humiliation lingered. "Who does he think he is, acting like he owns everything and everyone he sees?"

"Baron Axel," said the Abbess. "I guess he had to return sometime." She put her arm around Frida's shoulders. "Do you remember about Baron Rolf, who bought all those bows? He was one of the richest men around here, and highly respected. His son, Axel, has none of his father's business sense, and never learned to govern his appetites. He caused many scandals at his father's estate, so Rolf sent him abroad, mostly to get him out of the way, I think. Baron Rolf died last autumn, so it appears the son has arrived to claim the estate."

"But what can I do now?" sobbed Frida. "I can't go back to the market again. Not while he's there!"

"Please don't worry," said the Abbess, holding Frida tighter. "I will speak with the village headsman. If he can't help, I will speak personally to Lord Hakkon. I'm told he's had quite enough of Axel's antics, and might want to put some fear of the Divines in him."

Frida felt slightly better after another squeeze from the Abbess. She wandered into the kitchen, and found Babyface leaning over the cutting-table, sulking. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

She took his hand. "Why? Why should you apologize to me?"

"I wanted to protect you, but I was scared. I was scared of Baron Axel, and I was scared of those bullies he had with him." He slapped the table in frustration. "I'm not strong or powerful! I never have been! You're my sister, and I'm supposed to do right by you!"

Frida stroked his hair. "And you're my brother. We look after each other, just as we've always done. But against those three? Even together we couldn't have fought them. You did stand up for me, though, and I think you embarrassed Baron Axel. That's why he left. I should thank you!" Babyface looked skeptical, but accepted Frida's hug at the end. "Just remember, you are my brother. I am your sister. Now and always, truly and forever, you are part of me and I am part of you."

Frida didn't sleep well that night. It wasn't just the day's fright; it was the anger at having to face Baron Axel in the future. Surely he'd appear next market day, Lord Hakkon or not. And even if he kept him at bay, he would still be on the periphery, leering, waiting. How long must I hide here?

She didn't need to hide long. Three mornings later, she was chopping wood outside the kitchen, the sun at her back. The morning meal was over; Babyface was off somewhere studying, while the remaining orphans had gone to their chores. She was alone, working in relative peace when a shadow loomed over her. She turned to face Baron Axel, who, even without his bully boys, seemed to blot out anything else visible. "Oho!" he laughed. "It's our little wolf-killer! Have you decided to come with me yet?"

"Where are your friends?" said Frida.

"Oh, I told the boys we needed our privacy!" He tried to stroke her cheek, but she ducked out of the way. Baron Axel's brow furrowed. "What is the matter?" he asked sweetly. "What will it take to convince you?"

"Leave me in peace, please," said Frida, as calmly as she could manage. Abbess! Babyface! Where are you?

"You don't tell a Baron what to do, girl!" Axel snarled. He tried to grab her left shoulder, but she twisted away in time, leaving him with a handful of her dress. She heard the fabric rip, and gasped. "Don't you even think of screaming, girl!" Axel's voice was now a throaty whisper. "Who would listen to you, anyway?"

Where is everybody? Can no-one see what he's doing?

Baron Axel moved in closer. "I get what I want, in the end," he said. "You'll see. And then you'll learn to love me!" Baron Axel was enjoying himself, enjoying Frida's fear. But he wasn't paying attention. Frida kicked him in the left knee as hard as she could, her wooden clog making an audible thwop! against his patella. Baron Axel howled, straightened up, and drew his right hand back for a roundhouse slap. He'd show that impudent little girl what's what!

Which gave Frida the opening she needed. She grabbed the ax and swung as hard as she could. Baron Axel couldn't bring his left hand up quickly enough, and his right was drawn back to strike Frida. The flat of the ax head caught Baron Axel just above the bridge of his nose, making a sort of hollow sound, like striking a melon. He stood there for a moment, staring at Frida in surprise, then his eyes crossed and he collapsed.

TO BE CONTINUED...