A/N: Thank you all so much for the support on this story :)
Getting feedback is a huge part of why I publish on here, so thanks. I'm keeping the chapter lengths (fairly) brief so I can hopefully stick to posting pretty regularly. Hope you enjoy!
Chapter Three: Freyr
As soon as we were back in the village I headed off on my own to Randolph's hut to find my family. I think it had been the most difficult day of my life, and I longed for the familiar voices of my relatives. Even if we were arguing it would be a reassuring presence.
The hut, however, was deserted, and I had no idea where else to look. It shouldn't have taken all day just to pick out a horse, I thought, and so naturally I was plagued with the worry that perhaps Randolph had been planning to rob them all along – to take them into the woods under the guise of finding a horse and murder them in cold blood. He would surely have expected me to have gone with them, and when he returned he would come looking for me as well. I shivered at the thought, but tried to push it back in my mind. There was no way of knowing what these people thought of us, I just had to trust in their kindness, as ridiculous as trusting in the kindness of violent pagans was.
I tried to relax and lie down – telling myself there was nothing I could do anyway, but still my mind spiralled. I went through great spasms of fear followed by periods of telling myself I was overreacting, but I have always been naturally anxious, and the side of my brain that concocted vivid images of their deaths seemed to win every time. It was hard to say how much time passed like this, but the gentle noise of laughter and the crackling of the fire outside was all I heard, not the Frankish voices I was so desperate for.
It was only when I heard footsteps approaching the hut that I realised I had no plan for the worst case scenario, I had just been sitting in a dark room feeling sorry for myself. As the door creaked open I quickly pretended to be asleep, squinting to see who had arrived.
It was just Stanley, holding a flame which he used to light a few candles in the corners of the room. I made a show of pretending to wake up, stretching and yawning loudly.
"Sorry to wake you." He muttered, blowing out the original flame once the last candle was lit. He had his back to me, and I noticed then that he just had a cloth wrapped around his waist, and his hair was tousled and wet, having clearly come from washing in the stream.
"It's fine." I replied. The flickering candlelight shimmered on the beads of water that rolled gently down his back. He lifted his arm to shake more water out of his hair, the muscles in his shoulder moving with grace and ease.
Then, without warning, he dropped the cloth. I quickly covered my eyes with my hand, feeling shocked and intruding to be in the room at such a moment. The pagans clearly didn't care as much about these things as we did.
I heard him snort with amusement at my reaction, and I glanced through my fingers to see that his undergarments were now on.
"Where are my parents?" I asked eventually, managing to regain my calm and push the words out.
"Most likely they are in Gotha. That's where the most horses round these parts are." He paused as he pulled a shirt over his head. "Takes 'bout half a day to walk to."
I nodded. That meant they could still just be on their way home, though the forest tracks at night couldn't be safe, even with a pagan guide. At least tonight looked like a full moon would provide some more light.
The candles were giving off a horrible stench now, like burning fat. In fact, perhaps they were actually made from animal lard. In Frankia we used wax, which has no odour, but these brown, blotchy candles gave off a smell that clawed at the back of your throat.
"We are eating now." He said, moving to the door. "You want some?"
I nodded and jumped up, my stomach giving me a jolt of energy now someone had mentioned food. We went and sat out on one of the logs around the fire, and he introduced me to the other boys: the overweight one was Eric, the brunette was Clyde, the other dark haired boy was Craig, and the smaller blond boy was Leopold, or Leo.
On the fire was a hog, its ankles bound to a stick, being turned above the flames. I cringed, dreading having to explain why I couldn't possibly eat any of this and hoping it wouldn't offend anyone.
Once it was removed from the spit and began being chopped up, all the women and the older men gathered around to be served. It seemed customary that the man who managed to kill the beast would be served first, and an enormous, hulking man went forward to collect a large portion of the meat. After that, wooden plates were loaded with the stuff, along with a hunk of bread, and were passed around the circle.
After Stanley passed me a plate I waited until everyone else was busy eating or talking amongst themselves before tapping his shoulder.
"Do you want this?" I asked, gesturing to the pork. "We Jews can't eat pigs."
"You don't want…any?" He asked, looking at me like I had lost my mind.
I shook my head, and he held out his plate for me to place the food on it. He grinned happily at me after that, and began wolfing the meat down.
"Here." He said, tearing a piece of his bread off and putting it on my plate once he saw how quickly it had become empty. "You eat bread, at least?" He asked, laughing.
I nodded. The bench opposite ours was occupied by a group of young girls about our age, and I couldn't help noticing how one of them was staring intently at Stanley as he ate, but he seemed oblivious to the attention.
"You don't look like a Frank." He said, turning to examine me. "I have sure ne'r seen so many sun-dots on a man before." He added, his stare continuing as if he intended to now count every freckle to make sure of the fact.
"I…well, I suppose that's because I'm Jewish. I don't have a Frankish name either…" I muttered. It struck me then how few connections I really had that tied me to the land of my birth. In a bizarre way I almost had more in common now with the barbarians, cast out and hated by the Franks.
"What is it?" He asked.
"Broflovski." I replied, trying to speak slowly and clearly.
"Brov-lo-ki" Stanley tried to repeat. I figured it was close enough. "What's it mean?"
"Well," I began, a little stumped. Truth be told I had no idea. "I don't know, originally. It's from a faraway land though, in the East, and it means that my ancestors were Jews, so they had to travel many miles to find a new home – it shows we aren't Christians." I was aware of how bad an answer it was, but I wasn't sure how else to explain it.
"Huh." Was all he said. An ember from the fire shot up in between us, and I watched it hit the dark soil and instantly perish.
"What's your family name?" I asked eventually.
"Marsh." He replied simply. "Because we're from the marsh."
We fell into silence after that.
It was late in the evening before my family returned, arriving in Randolph's hut where I was resting while the other boys were drinking mead outside.
"Did you manage to get a horse?" I asked as they trooped in.
"No, I'm afraid not." My father replied. "It's not that there weren't any on sale, but we met the warlord of this area - he lives in Gotha - and he has given us permission to stay here until a trade caravan comes through that we can join. Apparently they come every month or so, headed for Constantinople. It would be a much safer way to travel."
As much as I could see the logic in what he was saying, it was difficult to accept. A month of living here seemed intolerable, and I was sure that a full week of back-breaking work like today would kill me. Constantinople and the Eastern Roman Empire would be more like home, where at least some people could read and write, and there would be some civilization and culture.
"I'm sorry Kyle." Father added, seeing the disappointment on my face. "These people have been surprisingly good to us though, and I can't risk travelling alone through the forests again if we can possibly avoid it."
"At least say I don't have to labour with the other pagan boys every day?" I pleaded.
"Kyle, don't be so selfish." Mother interjected, giving me her sternest look. "We all have to help out. Your father is going to make shoes and clothes, like he did before he was a moneylender, and Ike will help me wash and cook."
As if that was fair. A bit of washing and cooking compared with spending all day out in the woods building stupid over-sized fences. At least father wasn't going to be a moneylender here, as doing that always angered people eventually. I figured we probably didn't have any money to lend these days anyway.
"It may not be so bad." Father said, patting my head. "Randolph seemed impressed that you can read and write, so I suggested that maybe one day a week you help teach some of the boys here. How does that sound?"
"Even worse!" I groaned. Labour might kill me, but the idea of having to help someone like Eric learn the alphabet was a fate worse than death. "Father, I can't teach them, they're too old to learn now, and besides, they're pagans! Their thick skulls are only good for fighting, not learning!" It was only when I finished speaking that I noticed the creaking noise as the door opened, and Stanley walked in.
I was hit by a vast wave of awkwardness and fear, but if he'd heard me he didn't acknowledge it, instead just taking his shirt off and lying down in the corner of the room. My mother gave me a disapproving look, and the words 'now see what you've done' might as well have been etched across her forehead.
"Anyway," Father said eventually. "It has been a long day, I suggest we get some shuteye."
I was in a bleaker mood as we got ready for bed, knowing that this temporary stay wasn't going to be as temporary as I'd have liked. I longed to have my books now more than ever, so I could disappear away into some other world, of science or myth, and concern myself with problems that weren't my own.
We had barely all gotten under a blanket though before there was a frantic knock at the door, and the boy named Clyde burst in.
"Stanley!" He shouted, startling everyone in the room a little. "Wake up, a new moon is coming!"
I couldn't for a moment fathom what he meant by that, but I propped up on my elbows, watching as Stanley scrambled up and put his clothes and shoes back on. As they ran out we all followed, and found that the whole village was outside, staring up the sky.
I looked up, and saw the full moon begin, very slowly, to creep into darkness. On one side a crescent shadow began to emerge and grow slowly, and the people became increasingly agitated, shouting repeatedly.
It was just a lunar eclipse. I had learnt all about them, and how when the sun, earth and moon are all aligned, the moon is cast in shadow, but to them it seemed like the moon was under attack somehow.
"Freyr! Triumph Freyr!" They kept shouting, presumably reaching out to some pagan god. Some were ringing bells and others were bashing sticks against bowls or metal pans, creating as much noise as possible. As the eclipse continued, so did the racket, and the shouts of 'Freyr!' seemed to grow ever louder. In a way, it was amusing to watch.
At the moment of total eclipse there was a pause, and the town fell silent again, as if waiting to see if it had worked. Of course, the moon began to reappear, and cheers rang out. I supposed this ritual seemed to them to be working every time.
In many ways these people were like children, remarkably unaware about the world they lived in. I felt a little better about all the times I'd been afraid of them for their size and strength, now I saw how they could be terrified of something as harmless as an eclipse.
As the villagers started to head back inside, joyous that a 'new moon' had been born, I approached Stanley, who was still staring up at the sky.
"You know," I said, still amused by the bizarre events, "that was just an eclipse. There's no 'new moon' or anything like that. How it works is that when the earth and the sun-"
"Enough!" Stanley interrupted, turning now to face me.
"I only meant…"
"Just hold your tongue!" He shouted, the moonlight illuminating the blue hue of his large, angry eyes.
We were the only ones still outside now, and the cold wind attacked every bit of skin that my thin nightshirt failed to protect.
"I'd hazard you know all about it!" He continued, stepping closer to me now and bringing with him that uncomfortable, defenceless feeling I hated so much. "Everyman's much smarter in Frankia, right? And we're all fools?"
I tried to gulp but my throat was too tight to swallow back liquid. I tried to take a step backwards but he grabbed my shirt and pulled me back forwards with a jolt.
"Well, not here." He said, speaking softly now. "You can't hunt, you can't build, you can't fight. Your Pa, he's gonna make clothes for us now isn't he, doing women's work since he's not fit for ought else?" Stanley let go of my shirt as he spoke, and I started to edge away.
"So long as you're here," he said, smiling, "you and your little family are the fools."