Chapter 8

Gisla lay in her bed feigning sleep. She knew it was only a matter of time before the mysterious visitor returned again. Her tows curled back and forth in excitement and it seemed like a feat of strength for her to hold back a burst of laughter. It was almost frightening to Gisla these new feelings that were growing inside her. She had surely never felt anything like it before.

The other suitors who had made offers to her came to mind. The young ones from smaller nations with their envoys and chaperons. The elderly nobles with one foot in the grave from large countries. And fat, depraved Count Odo. Her mind flicked through all the faces of these men and how she had felt about them, but what she felt now was nothing like that. It was a very young feeling. Very fresh, very free.

The sound of foot falls echoed in her chamber and her mouth twisted up into a smile. He was back again. She nearly shook with excitement at the thought of it. She felt his weight shift on the mattress and she could not contain herself. In a mad frenzy she popped up from where she was laying and placed a kiss on his cheek where his skin met his beard.

The man let out a sound of surprise and then a laugh.

Gisla felt her heart leap to her throat from fear and embarrassment. Perhaps she should not have done that. Perhaps he did not want her kisses.

"What is all this?" He asked between laughs.

"I– Well…I– To put it simply–", She started, then blurted, "I was confused."

"Confused?" He asked.

"Yes I was…half-asleep and…startled. That is why I–"

"You missed." He interrupted.

"What?"

"You missed." He repeated. "Let me show you."

Gisla then felt a hand tangle in her hair around the base of her neck as she was slowly guided towards him. A pair of lips met her own in a kiss and a rush of energy passed through her as if she was struck by lightning.

"See? This is where your kisses go." He said to her. His mouth so close to hers she could feel his every word.

Gisla searched her mind for something clever to say back to him. Something witty that would impress him, but no words came to mind. All she knew or could feel was her heart pounding in her chest, like a thousand stallions suddenly set free.

"Oh." She finally answered back.

"Oh." He repeated. He was not mocking, only teasing.

He then gathered her to his side and leaned back so that they were both reclining on the headboard.

"Are you still confused?" He asked as he could feel her look at the arm he had placed around her.

"No. It is just that…you are not like other men."

"Is that so?" He said and Gisla could feel his other arm shift up to stroke his beard as if he was in deep thought.

"Yes that is so."

"And what is it that makes me different from other men?"

The question caught Gisla off guard, "I do not know fully. It is just you seem better to me than the others. You are certainly better than that heathen."

"And what makes me better than him? You do not know either of our thoughts, we could be quite the same."

"I do not need to know your thoughts to know you are not the same," Gisla insisted, "you are kind, and gentle, and smart. He is none of these things."

"And how do you know he is none of these things?"

Gisla drew back from resting against him in shock at his words, "Are you saying that in jest? He is a heathen. Little better than an animal. He cannot learn our language or our ways. I have seen him strike down many men with my own eyes. He is a bloodthirsty savage."

"And what is so wrong with being a fierce warrior. If he were fighting for Paris would you not be proud of him?"

Gisla's eyebrows knit together in confusion, "That is…that is not the point." It was true she had not thought of it that way before, but what did it matter. She did not know why this man could not understand what she was trying to say. He could be very frustrating at times.

"I am frightened of him." She whispered up into the darkness.

The arm around her tightened as if to form a barrier between her and the rest of the world. "What frightens you about him?" He asked in a gentle voice.

"He is strong and very fierce. I have never seen such strength in a man. I was so frightened the night they handed me over to him I had to be dragged into the room screaming."

"And what did he do to you on this night?"

"He came close to defiling me, I think. He was on top of me for a moment. Some of his clothes were on, but– Why are you laughing?"

A soft stream of laughter was bubbling forth from the man and Gisla was about to shove him out of her bed when he spoke.

"Forgive me," he said through broken laughter, "I suppose it is not your fault for not knowing how a man loves a woman."

Gisla's nose wrinkled in anger, "Do not laugh at me! I have never been so frightened of anything in my life. I was terrified."

His laughter stopped, "Were you truly?"

"Yes," Gisla said as she pulled away from him. She no longer desired to sit in his arms, "You would not know such things because you are a man. Do you not know what happened to the women of Paris that fell into the Northman's hands? The rape and abuse they suffered? Everyone I have ever known, even my own father, would have allowed him to do the same to me."

"But the Northman did not do those things to you." The man said as he tried to nudge her back into his arms.

Gisla pushed his hands away no longer wanting his attention, "I already told you he would have if I had not been able to defend myself with a knife."

"Was that how the evening was spent? He got on top of you and you spent the rest of the night keeping him away at knife point."

"I suppose there were a few other things that happened as well."

"Like what?"

"He tried to kiss me." Gisla said like it was the most awful fate a person could ever suffer.

"Oh, and what is so wrong with that?"

"He is a disgusting heathen, that is what was wrong!"

"You let me kiss you. How is it so different?"

"I– Well– That is simply not the same." Gisla said struggling to think of a better explanation. "Besides he did not only try and kiss me, he then shoved me down and got on top of me. And if it wasn't for my knife the worst surely would have happened. Then he rolled off, but left his legs still on me, which was very rude and vulgar."

"And what did he do after this?"

"He…fell asleep."

"That is not surprising, Frankish weddings are very long and tiring."

"Tiring for him! What about me? I had been threatened and berated for weeks before the marriage and then was tossed over to the dog. No one would listen to me no matter how much I begged or pleaded."

"But someone did listen to you."

"Who?"

"Someone had to have had the witnesses sent from the room."

"Yes, well the savage did. I suppose he did not want anyone else to see the tortures and miseries he wished to inflict on me."

"But he did not inflict anything on you. You said yourself he fell asleep."

"That is only because I had the foresight to arm myself!"

"Ah, but you have already told me he is a very strong man. Surely he could have taken your knife away. He must have not wished to harm you in the end."

Gisla felt her face flush with rage, "Out. Get out." She said as she tried to push him over the edge of the bed. "I will not be insulted in my own chambers."

"Where is the insult?" He laughed, putting up with her small strikes until he could find her hands in the darkness and restrain them. "He did not harm you. He only fell asleep. My question is what did you do after that?"

"I tried to leave the rooms." She said to him with scorn, "I tried to leave and they would not let me. They made me go back with him and stay with him through the night."

"And so he slept as you stood watch the whole night?"

"Why are you so curious? Because it is not you who must suffer at this animal's hands? It is not your father who torments you for not letting him defile you? It is not you who has to put up with the heathen lurking and pawing at you?"

"Pawing at you?" The voice repeated incredulously.

"Yes, pawing at me," Gisla snapped back, "did you not see him at the feast of St. Eulalie grab at me?"

"I do not think he was grabbing at you," he corrected her. "It seemed like only a touch. He also said something to you, I saw it with my own eyes."

"Yes, he said something to me," Gisla said in disgust, "He said 'my woman' the only words he knows are 'hello' and 'you're mine'. He thinks he owns me and can mistreat me as he sees fit." A slight choking feeling started rising up in Gisla. "He would abuse me if he had his way. He would take me from everything I love and hold dear." A tear escaped Gisla's eye, "And no one seems to care except for me. I have no friends or allies to protect me from such a fate." Gisla gave a loud sniff as she tried to stop more tears from coming.

She felt a hand come up to her face to brush a tear away. "Gisla," the man murmured.

She pushed his hand away, "No, do not comfort me. You are a man and do not know what it is like to struggle for every bit of freedom you have and then have everyone despise you for it. I am trapped and there is nothing that can be done." Her voice drifted into the sound of gentle sobs.

"Gisla," He repeated again. He moved towards her so that he could hold her close to himself as if she were a small child. Then he spoke again, "Gisla, I promise you again that as long as I am with you no one will harm you. Have I not already told you I am a very strong man? Let me tell you also this, if you cannot be harmed you may be free."

Gisla wiped her nose, "Truly?"

"Truly."