Part 2: Of Bondage
After leaving the Great Hall, Ragnar led me to his farm, some distance from the village. The farm rested on a hillside at the edge of a forest, as we approached we were greeted by goats and a barking dog. Once we came in sight of the house, I saw that there was a young girl doing her chores, this was Gita, Ragnar's daughter. Ragnar, after tying me a fence post, snuck up on her and began squawking playfully like a bird. At which a broad smile fell across her face and she rose and hugged her father. The two were soon joined by Bjorn, Ragnar's firstborn son, and their mother, Lagertha, Ragnar's first wife.
Despite the fact that I was now their slave, I could not help but smile at the genuine elation of this family, together again for the first time in what must have been at least a month. This was my second indication that these people, these northern heathens were not so terribly different from Christian folk like myself. This scene of a loving family man returning to his wife and children, their obvious joy at his return, was a scene which could have played out anywhere.
He introduced me to them by my name and told them that I spoke their language, they asked if I truly could and I proved it by speaking to them. The children were most curious, having never seen anyone like me before. They played with my robes and asked many questions, which I answered.
Just when I was starting to think that maybe these people were not so different at all, I was thoroughly reminded of just how different they truly were. I was given a cot and a space in a little unused corner of the house, next to the room in which Ragnar and Lagertha slept, and just as it seemed all had settled down for the night, and I had taken to reading the Bible I'd held onto since the raid, which for some reason Ragnar had allowed me to keep. I sat there, quietly reciting it to myself, trying to recapture life in the monastery, in which prayer and contemplation had been my life. It was difficult to ignore the sounds of Ragnar and Lagertha making love in the next room, but this just made me more determined to bury myself, at least for the moment, in the things on the Spirit, so that my mind would not wander and betray the vows I'd taken as a monk and priest.
Suddenly, they came out of their bedchamber, Ragnar was bearchested but wearing trousers at least, Lagertha however, was completely naked and wrapped in a blanket.
"Athelstan, we want to ask you something." Ragnar began.
"Come and join us, Priest…" Lagertha added with a wry smile.
"Come on… don't you want to?" Ragnar whispered.
I gulped but said nothing and averted my eyes.
"You'll enjoy it" Ragnar told me, goading me into accepting his offer.
"I am a monk, I have taken vows of celibacy. I cannot touch a woman, I never have."
That's when Lagertha started to show off the contours of her body to me, if I allowed my mind to drift to those places I couldn't help but admit that she was, in all honesty, a beautiful woman, with long golden hair and a strong yet distinctly feminine form, but she was a married woman and I was a monk, even with her husband's consent, I couldn't possibly.
"I can't. To do so would be a grievous sin." I told them firmly.
Obviously very confused, Ragnar knelt down beside where I was sitting and met his gaze with mine.
"Who would know?" He asked.
"God would know. I would know." I explained.
"Go to sleep then, with your God." Ragnar replied, then the two of them disappeared again behind the thin wicker wall that separated their bedchamber from my corner.
I went back to reading from the gospels, and they went back to lovemaking. That was my first night in the home of Ragnar Lothbrok. I knew then that I'd be tossed into a world surrounded by earthly temptation. For me, this was a frightening thought indeed, knowing my vows would be tested as never before.
Perhaps that is why, the next morning when I went to wash myself in the bay near Ragnar's farm, and found that in the weeks since my capture, the bald spot that marked me as a monk had started to grow back and there was a beard growing on my chin, these facts alone for the first time since, shattered by sense of calm. For the first time, I wept for the life I'd left behind.
In the coming days, I learned to carry out various chores around the farm, feeding the animals, holding yarn for Ragnar's wife and daughter to wound into balls, tending the crops, helping to prepare the meals, these were the sorts of tasks assigned me me.
In the evenings, to my surprise, I was welcome at their table, and given equal portion of food and drink as the rest of the family. Often times, Ragnar would pour me cup after cup, of ale and pepper me with questions about England, about my life before his boat attacked the monastery, and about Christianity.
After about a week of this, Ragnar brought me into the village with him. Only when we went to Kattegat, did Ragnar make use of the rope around my neck, leading me like a dog on a leash. I couldn't help but stop when I came upon the terrible sight of several of my brothers dead and hanging by their necks on ropes. What small sense of normalcy I'd regained since leaving Lindisfarne, was shattered in that instant, and replaced again by the inescapable apprehension that came from the knowledge that one was anything but safe. In that instant, I was transfixed on the awful sight in front of me, and only a few swift tugs upon the rope around my neck, could bring me back to the everyday drudgery of my new reality.
We did some trading of goods, purchased several new furs which were then tied in bundles held together by ropes and carried over my shoulders. Finally, in the late afternoon, not long before sunset, we went to see the Earl.
We found Earl Haraldson sitting in his great hall, with his wife at his side, along with several warriors. By then I had learned that despite the kindness shown to me by Ragnar and his family, in general this world viewed slaves as being lower than dogs, so I knelt before the Earl's throne hoping to not give him an excuse to kill me.
"Ragnar Lothbrok" The Earl began in greeting. "How do you find your new slave?" he asked, as though he were asking about a new goat or a bit of farmland.
"I find him very useful, as you will discover." Ragnar replied. "I have talked to my Christian slave and he has told me many things." He told the Earl.
"Such as?" He asked.
"He told me that there is a large town near the temple that we raided before, in this town there are many other temples and surely other riches."
"I was lying!" I exclaimed despite myself. "There's nothing there!" I was desperate to dissuade Ragnar from what I now understood he was about to do with the information I'd given him, and vehemently regretting answering the questions he'd posed to me during those drunken evenings.
"You see my lord?" Ragnar asked. "Surely this town is worth a visit."
"I could go there myself." Earl Haraldson replied.
"Yes you could my lord," Ragnar began, "but why put yourself in danger? Why not send someone with more experience of this journey, and someone who is…" he paused, apparently for effect, "more expendable? Give us back our boat." He pleaded. "What do you have to lose? After all, any treasure we take would be yours to do with as you please…"
I could scarcely believe what I was hearing. Ragnar was planning to go on yet another raid against my home, this time he was after the town in which I'd been born. Every fiber of my being begged me to speak out, to say and do whatever was necessary to stop this raid from happening, but I held my tongue. I knew that as a slave my word counted for very little, especially beyond the household I served. I had no power to stop this raid, I would try again before Ragnar had the chance to depart, but risking my life with an outburst in this hall was just as unlikely to do any good as it was likely to get me killed.
"Very well...I sanction this raid, on one condition, a warrior I trust must go with you." The Earl concluded, and with that, a burly, strong looking man stepped forward; but Ragnar had heard enough. As soon as he knew for sure that he had the permission he'd come for, we left.
By the time we'd finished speaking with the Earl, night had fallen upon Kattegat, the moon, large and full, gave the only light on the darkened streets.
Having suddenly been struck with my own powerlessness in the realization that my birthplace was soon to be attacked, and there was nothing I could do to stop it, I fell into despair as we made our way back toward the farm. Around the same place where I had stopped before, in the shadow of my dead brothers, I fell to my knees, unable or unwilling, perhaps both, to go any further. My legs suddenly felt almost too heavy to drag another step.
In truth, I was numb, numbness was the only way I'd kept my composure since my arrival and kept fear from taking over, but combined with the loss of my brothers and my fears for my homeland, it became paralyzingly overwhelming.
Ragnar tugged on the rope around my neck, once, twice, three times, and then he did something I didn't expect. He turned, stalked menacingly toward me, once again I felt his knife at my throat. I was sure then, that my life was over, but to my surprise, rather than killing me, he cut the rope around my neck.
"Run away if you want…" He told me, then he proceeded to cut the bundles of goods I was carrying off of my back.
For some reason I couldn't fathom and still can't quite explain, instead of running away, I ran to catch up with Ragnar and followed him back to the farm. That was the very last time he ever used the rope to lead me around.
Later that evening, when we'd returned to the farm and everyone had eaten supper, was the next time anything was said about this second raid.
"The Earl has given me permission to sail back to England, and I want to leave as soon as possible." Ragnar told Lagertha.
"And how soon is that?" she asked.
"Tomorrow." He replied. Lagertha stopped short, the cloth she'd been folding fell limp in her hands. It was clear she didn't like the idea of being left alone again so soon after the return of her husband, but she kept her displeasure to herself.
"We all wish you success, we will sacrifice to Odin." She replied at last.
"Are you not coming?" He asked, then he turned to face her with a proud, affectionate smile on his face. "I want you to come with me…"
She smiled back at him, clearly pleased, but there was still something holding her back, happy as she was, she was hesitating.
"But the farm… the children…" She reminded him. Lagertha was many things, a warrior, but also and more importantly, a wife and mother.
"Bjorn is still too young to come raiding, though big enough to help on the farm…"
"But who is to be in charge?" Bjorn asked.
I was wondering that myself.
"The priest. I will leave him with a key…"
"But Father! You can't place a slave above me, your natural son!"
"I don't regard him as a slave, he's a responsible person. If I say that he's in charge until your mother and I return then he is." Ragnar told him sternly. At that, Bjorn sat back down on the bench.
Deciding that now was my chance, perhaps my last chance, I rose to my feet. "Please Ragnar Lothbrok, don't do this…" I pleaded, but he ignored me so I sat back down before he'd had a chance to acknowledge my outburst. It had become obvious to me now, that I'd been claimed by an unusually kind master, still… I dared not test his patience too far.
"What do you think Gyda?" Ragnar asked his young daughter.
"I don't mind, I like the priest." She answered.
At that, he kissed her forehead lovingly. "Then it is decided." He replied.
With that, Ragnar led the children away. For a moment I thought Lagertha would follow behind them, but she remained where she had been, standing next to the table off to my right. Suddenly she leaned over it, put her face mere inches from mine, and stared into my eyes so hard it was as though she were examining my very soul.
"If any harm comes to my children while we're away, I shall tear the lungs from your body and spread your ribs out like the wings of a bird." She told me. There was a harsh, menacing quality to her voice as she said those words, and I was left without any doubt that she was not only capable but perfectly willing to carry through with her threat.
He and Lagertha left at sunrise the next morning, and we saw the boats carrying the raiding partly leave mid-morning, and so my month of being in charge began.
Bjorn remained obstinate, it was obvious that he didn't like me and hated the idea of my being responsible for him, but that had been what I was ordered to do. By day we tended the farm together, in the monastery I'd often heard that many hands made light work, without even Lagertha here, and with Bjorn unwilling as he was to do almost anything I asked him to do, there weren't enough hands to make any of our work light, and we often carried on until nearly dusk before our work was finished. His sister was more cooperative and seemed to accept that all of us, her included, had to do their part to get everything done. When she had finished all the tasks she'd been given, she would often come and ask me what else she could do to help.
In the evenings, we would eat together, Gyda liked me to tell stories about England and about my life before coming to Kattegat. Her brother cared nothing for these stories and tended to putter around on his own, pretending not to listen.
One night, after Ragnar and Lagertha had been gone for a little over a month, Bjorn plopped down the meat portion of our evening meal on the table and stared hard at me, as though daring me to refuse what he was about to ask.
"I want to go to Kattegat." He said bluntly. "I want to be there at the harbor when my parents return, they must be returning soon."
"I promised for Father that I would look after you both here." I reminded him.
"We look after ourselves." He told me.
He wasn't entirely incorrect, we all tended the farm and completed the chores together, and nothing had really happened to warrant me having to protect them, to be honest, I'm not sure how much use I would have been if it had.
"I cannot allow you to go on your own to Kattegat, your father would never tolerate such a thing." I replied.
"Then we should all go, the three of us." He retorted.
"And who would look after the farm?" I asked.
Apprently having no good answer to this, Bjorn gave up and sat down, thus we were free to carry on with supper.
When the ale had been poured and the food had been divided between us, I gave a small prayer of thanks. There were some habits that I simply refused to surrender even though I was well aware that no one on the farm or in Kattegat would understand. The children always gave me bewildered looks as though I grew two additional heads, when they heard me praying but I tried not to show how much this bothered me. After all, it wasn't there fault, they couldn't understand because they'd never been taught. My ways must have seemed ever bit as alien to them as theirs were to me in those days.
Later that evening, while I was once again reading the bible, which at this point was me only personal possession aside from the robes on my back, I couldn't help but see the parallels between what was happening to me, and what had happened to Job in the Old Testament. Here was a man who had done everything God had ever asked of him, who loved and served Him as faithfully as any man could do and yet, everything he'd once held dear was taken from him. There I was, lonely, miles from home, having witnessed the deaths of so many of my brothers, a slave to a family of pagans. It all seemed so...unjust… Surprised at myself for thinking such things, I immediately knelt in prayer.
"Where are you Lord? For the first time, I feel lonely, for the first time, I'm angry with you. You've allowed our beloved monastery to be burned, you've allowed my brothers to be slaughtered and sold, and now I'm here with these heathens? How does it serve you? Where are you Lord and why don't You answer me?" I asked. It was a prayer I would never forget, and one that would echo through my life for years to come until the answers to the questions I asked that night would come to fruition.