The fresh air does little to ease Rowan's gasping breathes and racing heart. She can almost hear it pounding in her ears as she crouches down on her haunches, head to her knees, to try and combat the wave of dizziness that hits her.
Ivar. Beinlausi. Ivar. Boneless. Ivar the Boneless. It keeps running through her head, but she can't seem to get that name to mesh with the person she knows. What can she even remember from the stories she'd heard? Had her father tried to read to her about him from The Tale of Ragnar Lothbrok? What parts of the legends were true?
The Great Heathen Army. That's right. The Vikings led a great army through England at some point. That was definite, they had historical records and archaeology to back it up. When did that happen? Would it be soon?
The sound of a throat clearing startles Rowan out of her thoughts and she looks up to see a tall, dark-haired woman in armor looking down at her.
"You are the girl who came here with Ivar Ragnarsson?" The woman asks in a curt, businesslike tone.
"Yes." Rowan replies.
"Come with me. My queen wishes to speak with you." The shieldmaiden barely waits for Rowan to stand before she sets off for the village at a brisk pace.
Rowan has to almost jog to keep up with the other woman's long strides. Even just the set of her shoulders from behind says that any attempt at conversation would be unwelcome, so Rowan remains silent and prepares herself to meet the Queen. At least it's an interesting view. The woman's hair is braided into an intricate design that looks both impressive and impressively impractical considering that she must have to redo it every day.
They approach the massive longhouse that Rowan had seen when she first arrived, but do not enter like she expects. Instead she is lead to a much smaller cabin where two fully armored shieldmaidens stand guarding the doors. They step aside as soon as they see her companion with a speed and deference that indicates that the dark-haired woman has some sort of high position among them.
Inside Rowan determines that this is some sort of living quarters. It's certainly far more decorated than the fishing cabin, but contains the same basic furniture. Looking around, she expects to see an elderly matriarch along the lines of Queen Elizabeth, only with more fur and braids.
There are two women in the room, one who appears to be another shieldmaiden with long blonde braids. The other, the queen who steps forward, is the furthest thing possible from what Rowan has imagined. Though she knows that the woman must be over forty, her face is young and her skin smooth. With her crown of golden braids, she has no need for one of common metal. Her bearing is proud and regal as she looks her over from head to toe.
"This is the girl who arrived with Prince Ivar, Astrid?" The queen asks.
The dark-haired warrior replies in the affirmative, casting a mistrustful glance at Rowan.
"I am Lagertha, Queen of Kattegat. What is your name?"
"Rowan." She says without thinking.
Lagertha raises an eyebrow. "That is an unusual name, Rowan."
True, even in her old life her name had been a little odd. "My father like a skald. I named for him."
"And who is your father?" Lagertha smiles, a sparkle of amusement in her blue eyes.
With the opportunity to ingratiate herself to this powerful woman presented to her, Rowan jumps on it like white on rice. "You meet him, before me. Botwine. My mother Hildigunn."
The name causes an instant change to come over the queen. Her face falls and she steps forward to hold Rowan's face in her hands.
"Yes, I can see you speak the truth. You favor her greatly. When I heard of the fate of the settlement, I had not dared hope that she had been spared. Where is she now? Did she send you to us?"
Rowan shakes her head. "She dead. I was little. My father too."
"You have no other family?" Lagertha looks at her with an honest sympathy that makes her feel vaguely guilty at the manipulation, but not enough to stop.
"None want me."
The older woman gives her a soft, sad smile. "Then it is good you have come to us, Rowan Hildigunsdóttir." She steps back. "We must find somewhere for you to stay here in Kattegat."
Rowan frowns and points her thumb over her shoulder towards the door. "I am with princes."
Lagertha's smile this time is icy, without a trace of good humor. "Yes, I understand that you have been staying with the sons of Ragnar. But you must understand that, until other arrangements are made, it is my responsibility to see to your wellbeing. I cannot allow a girl under my protection to remain in such a situation."
"They are kind." She replies, filled with a sudden burst of loyalty and desire to defend the boys. "They not hurt me."
"They are young men," Lagertha says as if she were explaining it to a hopelessly naïve child. "And young men do not always remember to treat pretty young women with the proper respect."
She reaches out to tip Rowan's chin up with two fingers, proudly lifting her own head to match.
"You are a Viking woman now, Rowan, and Viking women do not allow men to treat them with anything less than they deserve."
This conversation is getting a little heavy for Rowan's taste. She has to restrain herself from leaning back away from the queen's piercing gaze. Lagertha notices this and releases her, gesturing to the blond shieldmaiden to bring her a fur collar which she dons, fastening a gold chain to keep it in place.
"Come. I must handle some matters with my people. I will present you to them after."
Rowan ends up following Lagertha, Astrid, the other shieldmaiden, and a boy who looks to be a little younger than Bothild. They stride into the Great Hall amidst applause while Lagertha smiles and nods benevolently. Ubbe and Sigurd are there, and look surprised when they see Rowan tagging along behind their father's first wife.
When she ascends to stand before her throne, Lagertha's two warriors take stances at the base to her left and right. The boy steps off to one side, but Rowan hesitates, unsure of her place here. The blonde notices and gently takes her by the wrist, pulling her to stand near her.
"Today marks a new dawn for Kattegat. For all of us." Lagertha begins in a clear voice. She continues by speaking of King Ragnar's uncertain fate, and reveals her plan to build fortifications to protect Kattegat. There is a great shout of agreement to this, but all merriment dies when a lone figure forces them to part before him.
A thumping sound rings through the hall as Ivar drags himself across the ground with two spikes. If it weren't for the expression on his face Rowan would laugh at the sheer melodrama. His brothers put down a stool for him so that he can sit before Lagertha. Despite Ubbe's attempts to calm him, Ivar accuses her of murdering his mother in cold blood and challenges her to single combat.
"I refuse to fight you, Ivar Ragnarsson." Lagertha responds in a voice pitched loudly enough for all to hear.
"Why?" He demands.
"I don't want to kill you." She replies simply.
Ivar chuckles contemptuously. "Who says you would kill me?"
"I do." Replies the queen. Despite her bias toward Ivar, Rowan has to side with the lady on this one. For all his bluster, this is a woman with years of combat experience under her belt, and Ivar has had little experience in an actual fight.
Even Ivar backs down from his challenge, though he covers it with a casual dismissal. "Don't fight me, then. I don't care. Just as long as you know that one day, I will kill you, Lagertha. Your fate is fixed." He looks at Rowan for the first time since he arrived. "And she belongs to me. I ex–"
Lagertha stiffens visibly and interrupts him before he can voice his demands. "She is a freeborn child of Kattegat. She belongs to no one." She turns her gaze to the people assembled. "This is Rowan, daughter of Hildigunn Olafsdóttir, and she has been returned to us after these many years. Does anyone here know of any family that can claim her?"
The people whisper amongst themselves. One man speaks up. "My queen, I remember Olaf. He came to Kattegat from far away to fight beside Ragnar Lothbrok. He had no family other than that which went with him to England."
Lagertha nods in acknowledgment. "In that case, as there is no blood relative to take her in, I ask who amongst you will adopt this girl."
"Adopt!?" Rowan can hardly believe her ears. Once again her life is being decided in front of her very eyes with absolutely no input from herself.
"It is our way" Explains Lagertha, "That no child remains without family."
"But…" Rowan sputters half-heartedly.
"My queen." The blonde woman, who up until this point has been watching her carefully, speaks up.
"Yes, Torvi?" Lagertha smiles at her fondly.
"I would take her in with my own sons." Torvi continues to look at Rowan, gauging her reaction to the offer.
Lagertha considers this for a moment before nodding. "It would be fitting. Of course, no formal adoption may take place until my son returns from his raid, but I see no reason why Rowan may not reside with you in the meantime."
Her son. Then Torvi is her daughter-in-law? A little frantic and desperate to slow the conversation to a pace she can more reasonably follow, Rowan blurts out the first thing that comes to her. "But, I'm Christian."
The entire room quiets. The crowd looks at her like she's just confessed to being a vegan. Ivar looks like he wants to take back any previous claims to knowing her. Lagertha takes this in stride.
"Of course, you have lived among Christians your whole life. Torvi will help you to learn of our Gods."
"No." Rowan hastens to clarify any misunderstanding. "I know. I'm still Christian."
Glances are exchanged between Lagertha and Torvi while Rowan waits nervously for them to respond.
Torvi shrugs. "It does not matter to me."
Her mother-in-law nods in agreement. "We have had Christians live among us before. As long as you are respectful towards our ways, I see no reason to object to your chosen faith."
With a smile Torvi steps forward to embrace Rowan, whispering in her ear, "I have always wanted a daughter."
Shell-shocked, all Rowan can think to do is pat the other woman on the back awkwardly. Lagertha hugs her as well, and the crowd cheers again as she welcomes her into the family.
Behind her, Rowan can hear Ivar make some kind of indignant sound. By the time she's extricated herself from Lagertha's strong grasp and turned to look, Ivar has left. Sigurd and Ubbe are still in their places at the front of the group. They look almost as bewildered as she feels. Does this mean that they're going to be her uncles?
At the end of the meeting there is one last thing Rowan feels the need to address, something that she has wanted to say since Lagertha first mentioned her former husband.
"Queen?" She taps lightly on her arm to get her attention.
"Call me Lagertha, since we are to be family."
"Lagertha, I want to say I sorry for King Ragnar. He was kind to me."
Her mask of royal composure slips for a moment. She is obviously not indifferent to her ex-husband.
"You knew him?"
"Once." Rowan replies. "He ask to see me."
Lagertha regains her poise with a brilliant smile. "And now you are to join his family. It is a strange world we live in, is it not?"
Oh, if she only knew.
~…~
Torvi introduces Rowan to her first son, Guthrum, the boy who had walked with them to the Great Hall. He is the product of her first marriage, and Rowan is surprised to learn that he's a little older than her. Apparently he is just a little bit of a late bloomer.
Torvi's two children with Lagertha's son, Bjorn, are much younger. The older boy, Erik, is still a toddler, and Refil is just a baby. They are both happy, chubby little boys who are easily amused by the funny faces she starts to make at them from the first moment she sees them. Erik shows her his favorite toy, a carved wooden horse, and she encourages him to show her what adventures it goes on while Refil tries to eat her silver cross.
She's having so much fun playing with them that it's actually some time before she remembers that Torvi had wanted to show her around the home. She looks up with a baby on one hip and a toddler clinging to her back like a spider monkey to find their mother standing back and watching them with a smile.
"I see I made a good choice." Torvi says. "With so many working on the fortifications, it will be good to have an extra pair of hands to help with the children."
Rowan nods while trying to pry Erik's arms from around her neck. "I can do help. I like children."
One of Erik's little hands catches hold of her headscarf and pulls it away as he slides down her back onto the floor. Rowan doesn't have the time to react before she sees Torvi's eyes go wide with surprise. With a blush she tries to cover her scar with one hand while wrestling the scarf away from Erik with the other.
"How did this happen?" Torvi asks, gently pushing Rowan's hand away so she can examine the raised, bumpy flesh.
"I fell." Rowan winces and Torvi looks apologetic as her fingers trace the sensitive tissue. "It make me forget all before."
The older woman makes sympathetic, soothing noises like she would to one of her own children.
"Torvi, why adopt me?" Rowan asks. She's been desperate to know the answer for hours now.
Torvi seems suddenly very sad as she gently ties the scarf back over Rowan's hair, smoothing her loose brown locks over her shoulders. "My first husband died with no honor. My marriage was supposed to bring my family prestige, and they were not happy to have me return to them carrying the child of a disgraced man. So I chose to marry the first man who wanted me so I no longer felt like a burden to them. It wasn't until I met Bjorn and Lagertha that I knew what it was to have people who were willing to help me, to offer me a safe place to go no matter what."
Rowan doesn't know what to say. She can understand the sentiment, wanting to offer someone a comfort that you felt you had missed out on. It was what had drawn her to Ivar in the first place. She can't find it in her heart to tell this woman that she doesn't want to be here. Besides, she thinks, smiling at the little boy in her arms, it wouldn't be entirely the truth anymore.
~…~
Sigurd brings her things from the fishing cabin that first day, coming and going with few words spoken, but aside from that Rowan doesn't see the brothers for some time. They seemed to be avoiding the village for the time being. Rowan can't be sure, but she suspects that they are waiting for the furor after Ivar's public challenge to die down.
Torvi shakes her head in disapproval when she sees what little Rowan has brought with her, and takes her to the market in the morning to get some proper Viking clothes. Even for Rowan, who spent much of her childhood bouncing from one city to another as her parent's work demanded, it is an impressive sight. Traders from all over Europe and Asia hawk wares from silks and spices to jewelry and weaponry.
She feels truly excited for the first time in a long while as she follows Torvi through the crowds of people buying and selling. Half the time she spends just admiring the incredible variety of the women's clothes, how each one has decorated and accessorized to match their personal tastes. They're surprisingly outgoing with her as well, pleased to show off the embroidery and strips of precious silk that line their dresses.
At the cloth merchants Torvi has her pick out material for new linen underdresses as well as the apron-like overdresses that are worn by the Northern women. As she looks through the selections of brightly-colored threads, her mind buzzes with ideas for embellishments.
The next stop is the jewelry merchants. It is here that Rowan discovers that Bothild's old hairpin had actually been for a cloak. When she shows Torvi how she used to wear her hair to hide her scar, the woman insists on buying her one so that she can be more comfortable. She chooses the simplest one she can find, a simple stick of bronze. Torvi frowns at its plainness, but is insistent that, when it comes to the large, decorative brooches that will keep her new clothes in place, they must be expensive.
"It reflects on us. They show that we are of status."
So Rowan can only stand by as Torvi buys two ornate tortoise brooches of gilt bronze to hold up her apron dress and a third tri-lobed brooch to hold her underdress closed at the neck. At least she agrees not to go all out on the chain that connects the matching brooches, from which will hang things like needles, scissors, a knife, and so on.
The woman selling the brooches proudly shows off the string of glass beads that connect hers. Each one carries a story of how her husband brought it for her through some improbable feat of daring and bravery.
She teases Rowan that, soon, she will have someone to bring her such things, and that is why Torvi has only bought the simple chain. Rowan glances nervously at Torvi, trying to see if this is true, but the other woman smiles reassuringly and admonishes the merchant to mind her own business.
When they get back, Rowan lays out her newfound wealth on her little bed, tracing over the intricate designs. She touches the small silver cross that hangs around her neck and marvels that women keep giving her these precious things. At what point did all of these people become so misguided that they actually like her this much?
~…~
Lagertha's great project starts the day after she announces it. While she begins with just watching Torvi's two boys, Rowan soon finds that other children soon gravitate towards her, pulled in by the promise of new games they've never seen. While their mothers are busy working, she shows them Hopscotch and Duck, duck, goose. When they're worn out she instructs the quieter ones on the finer points of Cat's Cradle while she sews her new clothes.
One day Lagertha sees Rowan helping to stitch up a wound on one of the workers. From that point she is often called upon to tend to various injuries. Though her knowledge of the herbal remedies used by the healers is shaky at best, a dislocated shoulder is a dislocated shoulder in any century, and that she knows how to fix.
She keeps herself so busy that she barely has a single waking minute where her mind isn't occupied, and that is the way she prefers it. It is easy to stay cheerful when surrounded by dozens of shouting, laughing kids. There are a lot of them too. It seems like half the village is under the age of eighteen. The warm gratitude of their mother's for keeping them entertained and out of trouble only feeds her desire to do more.
Only in the evenings when she writes in her book does she stop to think of Wessex and Oddune, and she finds herself writing less and less. It is easy to make excuses and put it aside for 'next time' when she has Torvi and Guthrum there, always willing to talk to her and help her improve her Norse.
Every night as they sit together, Refil already sleeping and Erik bouncing on his older brother's lap, Torvi combs through Rowan's dark hair while they talk. Rowan has never liked people messing with her hair, but she is at least willing to allow this. She draws the line at letting Torvi braid her hair into some pointlessly complicated design, no matter how much the woman wants to.
Despite the closeness they develop, Rowan can't help but keep an emotional distance between herself and Torvi. She knows that the woman senses this, and is a little hurt by it, but Rowan doesn't want her to get the idea that their relationship will become something it can't. What Rowan doesn't expect is for her to openly address it. But that's exactly what she does, late one night as they lie in the large bed, Refil sleeping between them.
"You will never think of me as a mother, will you?" Torvi whispers so as not to wake the baby or the other two boys in their smaller bed across the room.
It takes a while for Rowan to recover from the surprise of the other woman's candor. When she finally does, she discovers that the main emotion she's left with is relief. It feels good to no longer feel like she's trying to hide something.
"I had a mother." She replies. "No one could replace her."
Torvi gives a soft sound of understanding. "I understand." She says after a moment of thought. "Perhaps, instead of a mother, you might think of me as an older sister instead?"
"I've never had an older sister." Rowan considers aloud. That doesn't sound so bad. She could respect an older sister the way Torvi deserves, while not feeling disloyal to her memories of her mother. "I think… I could accept that."
~…~
Before she knows it two weeks have passed. Torvi has started to cast worried glances in her direction and make 'suggestions' that she might like to take a break from helping to do something just to amuse herself. Rowan shrugs it off until one day, while sorting through a chest of clothes Guthrum has outgrown, she finds herself struck by an idea.
She finds a shirt that has worn through at the elbows and was set aside to be remade into something else. Looking it over, she thinks that it wouldn't be too difficult to remove the sleeves and add laces. Rummaging through the chest she pulls out a pair of the linen, knee-length breeches like the ones that Ubbe had lent to her before. They are meant to fit loosely, but this pair would fit her fairly snuggly. Together, she could make herself a halfway decent and comfortable swimming costume.
Torvi is puzzled as to why she would want to make such an outfit, but otherwise tells her to do what she wants with the clothes. If anything, she seems pleased that Rowan is showing signs of being more than a mindless worker bee. The family's clothes have never been in such good shape. She'd even started to catch Rowan eyeing Lagertha's clothes with a slightly demented interest that makes her slightly nervous.
It only takes Rowan a few hours one evening to make her alterations to the shirt, creating a close fitting vest that she can easily remove or adjust with the front lacing. Even better, she can wear her 'swimsuit' under her dress so she won't have to try to change out in the open.
The only thing left for Rowan to do is to find a body of water that is big enough for her to really stretch out in. At least once a week most of the women in the village gather to bathe in the river, but it's not an ideal location for swimming. Once again, she consults Torvi, who tells her that there is a large lake quite close to the village. It's not used for bathing because of its depth, it's far easier to go to the river where the little ones are safer.
With directions to the lake and her swimming clothes donned, Rowan sets off one bright day, excited at the prospect of once again diving into the water and getting her freestyle on.
*.*.*
Ivar has seriously stuck his foot in it. I can't believe I thought his stupid was somehow limited to when he's around people who don't have an entire village ready to bitch-slap him the moment he makes a wrong move. Yes, I understand that revenge is a big part of this culture. I'm still not sure why Lagertha hasn't had to at least pay a wergild for killing his mother, but since literally NO ONE else here is going to enforce it I would have thought he would be smart enough not to come right up to her and tell her TO HER FACE that he's going to kill her.
~…~
Technically speaking, I'm the theist offspring of an English atheist and a Norwegian agnostic who was baptized Anglican – because grandmother insisted on it – who has general good feelings towards the teachings of Christ, which can pretty much be summed up as "Be excellent to each other." What I specifically believed in never really mattered growing up.
Maybe I've chosen to see myself as a Christian because Oddune did. He always said that to understand the substance of faith one must look, not to the clergy or the most privileged, but to the poorest.
Living here, I can see how faith can be a necessary part of life for the average person. What else can keep you going when you're faced with a daily struggle for survival and never ending death if you don't believe that there's some kind of reward in the end?
I don't think I can really believe in nothing considering the fact that I'm here. Transmigration of the soul makes belief in some kind of a higher power sort of a given. Who or what I believe in specifically is harder to say. I've spent too much time studying science to accept the majority of the world's explanations for the existence of man.
I think, maybe, I want there to be a reason why I'm here. It would be easier to swallow if it were all part of some greater plan, rather than some Random Act of Random.
~…~
How would I act if it were my mother? Maybe it's just that I've never been a very confrontational person. Maybe it's just something that you can't understand unless it happens to you.
I haven't seen him or his brothers for days now. I mentioned that I wanted to visit them today and Astrid looked like she was going to lay an egg. Torvi was at least diplomatic about basically saying that it wouldn't look very good if people saw me being friendly with them right now.
What I wanted to say was, "Fuck all of you, Ivar's my friend and I'm not a part of this so don't try to drag me into it."
What I actually did was nod and go back to eating my chicken.
Coward.
Wow, this one took a long time. I had a hard time writing a chapter with so little Ivar, but I wanted to show Rowan forming relationships with other people, especially women.
As a historical note, adoption was common in Viking times. It was considered an excellent way to bring another member into the family who could help out, especially if a couple couldn't have children of their own. However, the person adopting the child or adult had to be the same sex as the person they were adopting. So as a female, Rowan can only be adopted by a woman. The only other restriction is that the adopter's heirs had to agree first and be part of the ceremony since they would be losing part of their inheritance.
1. What does everyone think of the new graphic? I want to go back and re-do the ones from previous chapters too.
2. How do you think Ivar is going to be when he and Rowan finally meet up again?
3. What do you think Bjorn is going to have to say about possibly adopting Rowan?