Thorunn was relieved to see that Ubbe appeared unharmed at dinnertime, and was, if not as effusive as usual, still seemed to be in fairly good spirits when she brought the men their food. (And he thanked her, which was a relatively new development). Bjorn she had already noticed was not in attendance, not even skulking in a corner somewhere, though she'd looked about for him. Perhaps he was just planning on coming later. But when the candles were guttering and he still hadn't made an appearance, Thorunn caught up with Ubbe. So as not to attract attention she waited until he left to make room for more alcohol, presumably, and then cornered him outside under the night sky. He cursed in surprise. "Thorunn."
"I'm sorry. I...Why is Bjorn not here tonight?"
His look, even in the moonlight, suggested she knew perfectly well why. "I mean.." she strove to clarify. "Where might he be?"
"Probably just in his rooms. Look, I really need to piss, can you—"
She backed away. No help there. But she had only just gotten indoors before Margrethe appeared, digging fingers into her shoulder painfully by her collarbone. "Where are you wandering to, terrible girl?"
Thorunn shrugged away from the pinching grasp, needing to use a bit of force to do so. She marched in the direction of the kitchens, having no other purposeful place to be. Margrethe hurried behind her and hissed when they got through the door, "You're meant to bring Bjorn dinner, you know. He sent for you long ago."
"Margrethe, you—" Thorunn didn't know many foul words and fewer still to direct towards another woman, but she longed for one in her possession now. "Why wouldn't you tell me before?"
The question was half rhetorical because the smirk on the younger girl's face was revealing enough. Thorunn fled to the kitchen and piled food from the pots on a platter. The other servants went about their business, everyone keeping to themselves.
Heart pounding, she made her way from the great hall to the connected hallway that led to the rooms of Ragnar's family. She wouldn't even necessarily have known which rooms belonged to which people, except that once months ago she had been told to leave something outside Bjorn's, so she prayed it was the same one.
Dry of mouth, she swallowed, then raised her free hand to the door to knock on it.
There were footsteps—Bjorn's footsteps, she would know them anywhere—and then he jerked it open and stared at her.
He was barechested, wearing only some kind of foreign cloth breeches. Thorunn blinked at the expanse of muscle and proffered the plate.
"Took long enough," he said, waiting for a few heartbeats before accepting it.
"I'm sorry." She would not tell on the other serving girl, that would only invite further trouble. She dipped a little curtsy, preparing to go, but he said, "Come in. Let's talk."
Thorunn hesitated, looking back down the length of hallway. She had never been inside this lush room. Well, it was lush to her, probably spare by princely standards. She lingered on the doorstep to be sure no one was peeking around a corner, or waiting by a door, before slipping in. Bjorn reached past her and closed the door with a resolute thud.
He put the plate down on a table and picked up a piece of ribs, biting into it. Thorunn gazed around the room, at all the furs, his weaponry stacked by the wall, the horns and antlers of various prize kills. Candles guttering softly, a fireplace lit low, a beautiful wolf fur on the floor near a heavy-timbered bed. She directed her eyes back on him. He chewed, thoughtfully. She couldn't tell what his mood was. Restored to equilibrium, hopefully.
She let him eat, since he seemed to want to do at least a little of that before talking. If that was indeed what they were going to do.
"You can sit," Bjorn said after a few moments, somewhat more gently than the way he'd greeted her. Since it was by no means a command this time, Thorunn allowed herself to sink to a nearby fabric-covered bench. She folded her hands in her lap and waited for him to finish eating, which he did quickly, then rinsed his hands at a corner basin. He turned back to her and let out a slow sigh.
"So."
Expectantly, Thorunn gave him her attention. He was the one who wanted to talk, he presumably had something to say.
Bjorn ran hands through his hair and cupped them over his mouth and nose for a brief moment. "I didn't like seeing that today."
"Seeing what, exactly?"
"The two of you. Fighting. We even talked about it before."
"You talked about it," Thorunn murmured. "You said...it mustn't happen."
"And I thought you understood. You were supposed to trust me with your training. Weren't you?"
"You didn't come."
"I forgot I was leaving."
"And Ubbe did not—would not—hurt me. He was careful. We were both careful. We—" She realized that she had leaned forwards, almost sprung up, and was speaking with too much enthusiasm. Bjorn looked wounded. And then tried to hide it, like it didn't matter.
Thorunn cleared her throat and looked down. More moderately, almost sedately, she said, "I think I have much improved."
Bjorn made a responding sound in his throat. "I don't know if I saw much."
"That was our first time sparring with shields," she argued, getting excited again. "But you should see my axe throw—"
His lips curved in a little reluctant smile and she was so delighted to see him back again that she couldn't help but respond with her own.
"Fine. I'm not saying you're ready for the spring raids."
"But you'll...you'll fight with me?" She clasped her hands together, unconsciously childlike with anticipation of the idea.
"Swords," he said, "—wooden swords," when she jumped up, excited.
He stared at her and then shook his head and snorted a little. "Is this all it takes to make you happy? The promise of a fight?"
Right now, yes, she felt ridiculously happy. She even, almost, forgave him for just forgetting to tell her of his planned absence. Impulsively, she flung herself at him, bumping into his chest and hugging around his shoulders.
Bjorn absorbed the impact of the semi-violent hug and after a second she felt his arms go around her, with some diffidence. He smelled good, warm and like the lavender they stuffed the pillows with. After a moment he said, somewhere near her ear, "What are you doing?"
"I'm just..." Probably she should pull away, but there was nothing she didn't like about their current proximity. "Grateful."
"Grateful," he repeated, the word a rumble in his chest against hers. He let her trace a scar, her fingers running curiously above his collarbone.
His hands found her waist. "Want to sleep here?"
Thorunn shivered, both from the suddenly intimate dropping of his voice and the mere concept of sleeping in that huge fur-piled bed, a dream all by itself. "If you want me to," she murmured.
"I want it if you do."
The morning be cursed, she really did want to. Now was everything; tomorrow was nothing.
"It's early for bed," he said, looking at the bed.
Not for her, it would not be. Although she could never remember a time when she had been allowed to sleep this early in the night. The luxury of free men and women who didn't have a mountain of tasks awaiting them, Thorunn imagined.
She watched him extinguish the candles, leaving only firelight to see by. Then he indicated the bed, which she was prompt to climb into, relishing its herbed bolsters, its soft piles of fur. She positioned herself politely on one edge and burrowed under, leaving the rest of the space for him.
"Comfortable?" he said, sitting cross-legged beside her.
Thorunn murmured an assent. She kept her eyes wakefully open, although in truth she could have surrendered to sleep within moments; she wanted to see if he had other intentions.
She wasn't ignorant of what went on between couples, but neither had she personally experienced it. Her natural reticence had, thus far, prevented any emotional attachments, and she'd been able to avoid any physical ones. Thorunn had always known that would have to change some day, and perhaps this would be the day—the night—and though she wasn't certain exactly what to expect, she couldn't imagine it would be terrible, or that Bjorn would be rough. He did have a very pleasing form.
"Are you going to sleep?" he said, and she was watchful for any anger in his voice, but he only sounded mildly amused.
"No," Thorunn murmured, not very convincingly. The lavender was heady, the bolster so soft. She let her lids drift. She felt Bjorn's knuckles on her cheek, on her hair. He gave a quiet sigh. "Sleep," he said, settling down under the furs, and she did.
The fire died at some point in the early hours of the new day, not having been intended to last long on a summer night. Bjorn stirred, kicking off furs, his skin lightly beaded with sweat. Thorunn's gentle breathing was close by.
He hadn't had the heart to turn amorous last night, not when the violet circles under her eyes had been visible even in the dim lighting, not when she was clearly fighting fatigue with each breath. That would be taking advantage in the worst way, as far as he was concerned.
Of course he'd been lying to Ubbe when his brother had asked about his feelings for her. Well, it was complicated. He didn't know himself exactly what he felt. It was more than protectiveness, though. Thorunn didn't belong in anyone else's bed but his, no matter what they might be doing in it.
Sleeping, for now.
He watched her for a time, the slight rise and fall of her shoulder exposed where the dress had gone astray. Her lashes against the still mildly discolored skin. He wondered what, if anything, she was dreaming about.
Then he told himself not to be sentimental, and quickly slid out of bed to wash and dress.
Thorunn stirred by the time he was properly clothed, suddenly sitting upright and blinking. "Is it morning?"
"Mm." He crossed back to the bed and sat down. "Sleep well?"
She sighed. "I don't think I've ever slept so well."
"Want to eat something?"
She seemed to come fully awake, and pushed off the furs. "No, I...I must go."
"You don't have to—"
She shot him her look and he shrugged, knowing better than to argue now.
"Bjorn?" Thorunn stopped by the door, her hand on the latch.
He looked at her, questioning.
"Thank you," she said, suddenly shyly, and darted out.
He rubbed a hand over his bristling jaw and looked around the room. It had been better with her still in it.
Thorunn was somewhere between racing and tiptoeing down the hallway, anxious to avoid notice though it would be something of a miracle if no one had noticed her overnight stay. At least Margrethe was nowhere to be seen. There were lights in the kitchen, and sounds of some industry, but other than a few sleepy dogs by the entrance, the great hall was otherwise quiet. Last night's dinner, thankfully, appeared to have gone late.
And she had slept blissfully through all of it. It hadn't exactly been her intention, depending on what Bjorn had had in mind, but it had turned out that way.
Which seemed like a dream in itself. And Bjorn hadn't seemed the least bit annoyed with her, or indicated that they would not meet later today for the promised swords.
She flew back to Hilde's and was met with a barrage of vitriol, called all sorts of names, and escaped with only a few smacks of the broom across her shoulders for having been gone the night. Hilde demanded to know where she had been sleeping, but Thorunn was mute on the subject, only admitting to having been wrong to stay away without notice. Hilde let her go with only a few more recriminations on her part and apologies on Thorunn's. Then she flew about the house catching up with cleaning and setting water to boil for the day's washing, all the while harboring a secret smile at the thought of her lovely night.
But back at the hall there was still cleaning and kitchen work to do and she couldn't avoid being the subject of Margrethe and some of the others' discussions. Not that what she had done had been so terribly unusual, but that she refused to entertain conversations based around it. This made her still more the object of scrutiny and suspicion. If Thorunn had simply been able to admit to sleeping with Bjorn, they might have moved on. Since she would not even talk about having been in the room at all, she clearly, from their perspectives, had something to hide. Margrethe watched her with a sour face the rest of the morning.
Afternoon's practice, at least, made up for the morning's unpleasantness. Bjorn was very matter-of-fact with the lesson as if nothing had changed between them, which she appreciated, and let her spar with the swords until she decided she wanted to stop (which was a first, he had always called the end of the training before now).
"Do you still wear the stone?" he asked abruptly, as they were kneeling side by side, washing by the stream after.
Thorunn felt a guilty shock remembering the Seer, and his extraction of a promise of some future token in the stone's place. "Of course," she said, pulling it from underneath her dress. "I do not take it off." Other than that time.
"Mm."
"You never did tell me how you got it," Thorunn said, wondering now.
"I will tell you the story, sometime. Not today, I promised Ubbe we'd go hunting after this."
"Might I come?" she dared.
He shot her a sideways look she couldn't really define, then his eyes narrowed and she glanced at herself, following the gaze. "What, what is it?"
He reached out and pulled the shoulder of her dress to the side, exposing collarbone. Thorunn flinched as his fingers grazed sore flesh, and arching her neck she could see a bruise building where they'd touched.
"This wasn't there last night," he said, his voice like doom.
"We—probably it's from just now," she tried, knowing the futility of such a protest even as the words left her lips.
"Tell me who did this. I'll find out anyway."
"Please, it doesn't matter." How could she say she'd experienced worse, that this had hardly been a beating at all.
He stood up, and she leapt to her feet too, grabbing his arm. Bjorn didn't shake her off, but his face said she had about five heartbeats to give him the information he was looking for or he would be gone.
"It was because I was with you all night—wait, Bjorn, please, by the gods—it was only that she didn't know where I was."
He was furious, and partly, she suspected, because he had no true recourse. Anyone was well within their rights to beat a slave who disobeyed or was unaccounted for without permission.
"I don't want you to go back there," he said.
"I must. I'm not afraid. She won't do anything else." Thorunn thought that the verbal pressure from Margrethe and the others was far worse to have to endure, honestly. And she could easily have gotten bruises from sparring with Ubbe, although Bjorn hadn't seen any of those. Yet. She would have to make sure her body was unmarked before she let him much closer to it, because now even if it had been innocently earned, he was going to be suspicious.
Thorunn allowed herself a tiny internal sigh. Life was difficult enough without having to defend oneself against the onslaught of male pride getting in the way. It was a new experience for her and she was fairly sure she could well do without it.
"Tell me," she said, "that for now, you will just let this be. I have not yet asked for anything from you."
"I don't like it," he said, his brows drawing together.
"There are many things I do not like, also. But I swear I am unhurt and it will not happen again." Thorunn actually wasn't sure Hilde wouldn't throw a slipper at her, or some such thing if her pique was tweaked, but the Bjorn she had come to know these past months would settle for nothing less than certainty, and she could show him nothing less.
"Will you stay with me tonight?"
"No," she resisted his grasp when he went to pull her hand, "not tonight. You must leave this with me. You must leave this—" Her hand trailed a vague path in the air between them—"here."
He understood. He didn't like it, that was evident, but he understood.
They walked back together to Kattegat, and Bjorn held her hand in his the entire way, which did make her self-conscious, especially upon encountering others on the outskirts of town, none of whom attempted to avert their gazes or feign disinterest. After being ignored one's entire life, having this kind of scrutiny was intensely disorienting. She tried to look ahead as he did, though she suspected she failed miserably at looking majestic.
Bjorn seemed very much as if he had more to say but Thorunn squeezed his hand at the last, a silent promise, or a silent extraction of a promise from him, and quickly returned to Hilde, who, narrow-eyed but minding her tongue, sent her forth to fetch water.
The remainder of the day was without event, and she went to bed in the corner of the hut as usual, though it took longer than usual to fall asleep this time, considering the comfort of the previous night's surroundings.
Mid-morning, Thorunn was down by the water's side helping some of the others pull from nets fish that had been caught earlier that day. The process of stripping and salting them would occur later, for now they were transferring the haul so that the fishers could go out again or put the boats away til evening. The sky was gray and mildly overcast, so it was cooler. She licked salt from her lips as they splashed through the shallows with the nets, bringing them to the shore.
Lagertha's was not a presence that was easily concealed and Thorunn saw her, some distance away, almost at once. She straightened, uncertain if the queen was simply gazing out over the ocean or watching her in particular. Either way, it heightened her awareness of the moment and she felt her heart beat a little faster correspondingly.
When all the fish had been transported from the boats to shore, and now were being organized and sent up in baskets, Lagertha approached, coming directly to Thorunn, who did not know what else to do other than stand riveted to her spot, nervelessly clutching a corner of net still. But the queen smiled, pleasantly, unoffensively, at her. "You are Thorunn, aren't you?"
Thorunn dipped, dropping the net at the same time, and lowering her gaze to the ground humbly.
"Come," Lagertha said, touching her arm. "I would speak with you. Let's walk."
Cognizant again of the stares of the other servants, and industry slowing as they moved away from the docks to walk along the stretch of shoreline, unoccupied except for a small boat here or there. Thorunn swallowed against a dry throat, unable to imagine any possible good reason for conversation with Kattegat's most formidable shieldmaiden (and queen in her own right, even before realigning herself with Ragnar).
Was she to be punished, openly or in private, for daring to associate with their son—their firstborn, the one said to be the blessing of all the gods? She held herself tense, ready for anything, unable to keep pace with Lagertha out of respect, staying always one or two steps behind her.
Lagertha did not speak immediately to her but once they had gotten some distance from the rest of the community, she turned and paused. "It's said you've been keeping company with my son. Is that so?"
Since one did not lie to one's regent, Thorunn could not dissemble, but bowed again, in an admission of guilt, or at least responsibility.
"I haven't spoken to Bjorn yet," Lagertha continued, "because I believe, oftentimes, that the woman has the better—perhaps the more truthful—perspective on the matter. Will you be truthful with me, Thorunn?"
"Of course, my queen," Thorunn got the words out, somehow, even if she stuttered a little.
"Are you ambitious? You don't look ambitious. But looks are deceiving. Take that Margrethe, she looks a lamb. When she's a wolf in her heart."
Well, it was good that someone wasn't fooled by Margrethe's soft eyes and sweet face, thought Thorunn. "I...I don't believe I am ambitious, my queen, except—"
"Yes?"
"I do...want better for myself than always to serve," she said, hesitating, preparing for a blast of icy anger, or withering scorn.
Lagertha regarded her with eyes that pierced, but an expression that seemed more amused than anything. "I was a farmer's wife, when I was your age. There's nothing wrong with wanting more. But for yourself, in your station, what do you see as better, precisely?"
Thorunn still hesitated, batting strands of hair that the breeze stirred out of her face. "I...I have wanted, for some while, to be a shieldmaiden. Like you yourself," she stammered, feeling suddenly ten years younger, a child holding on to the edge of a dress.
The older woman's face remained solemn. "For some while. So you have not worked towards this aspiration your whole life?"
"No, my queen, not exactly. I have not...had the time. I will say, when younger, I longed for something of more purpose, of more use than...peeling potatoes or gutting fish—"
"Many would say," Lagertha lifted a finger to gently silence her, "that the provision of food is of greatest importance to a community."
"Yes, I understand, only—" she faltered, wondering how long she would be indulged to argue. But Lagertha's face was still patient. "Go on."
"When Bjorn—" Now Thorunn could feel herself blushing at the temerity to mention this woman's son—"when he came back from the raids and told me stories of foreign lands, the things he...you, all of you, had seen and done...I was enraptured."
"You wanted to be part of it?"
She nodded, swallowing against the sudden hunger that came to her at the same time as the vision.
"I can understand that." Lagertha assessed her now from head to toe, in the way of a commander. "You certainly look strong enough. So tall. Almost as tall as Bjorn himself! How do you feel about him?"
The abruptness of this segue rendered her mute.
Lagertha's mouth quirked in amusement. "You are not sure yet, are you?"
Thorunn strove for something that would be true and noncommittal. "He has been generous to me."
"My son has the biggest of hearts, though he doesn't always show it to just anyone," Lagertha mused. "So. Thorunn. There is something that I want to do for you. I believe you have worked hard, and will continue to work hard in your new profession."
"My...my new..."
"Whatever you decide it to be." Lagertha smiled now. "I am making you a free woman."
Thorunn stared, unable to grasp the meaning of the words, as if they had been spoken in Frankish.
"I spoke with your old mistress before coming here. I have compensated her. And you should know, Thorunn, that if you want to live and continue to serve in my household—only in my household, you may still do so, but for compensation, and as the free woman that you are. "
"I..."
"You need say nothing, nor thank me. I think you can best show your gratitude by, when the time comes, serving on the field as the shieldmaiden you wish to be. But you are free to choose anything, to go anywhere, now. Kattegat itself does not have to be your home, unless you wish it."
She couldn't envision anywhere else but Kattegat being home, no matter how many foreign nations she set foot in. She bowed deeply. "My queen."
Lagertha smiled and inclined her head. "Perhaps I will see you later in the hall, Thorunn. But if I do not, that is fine as well." She touched Thorunn's forearm lightly, then turned in a swirl of summer cloak and made her way briskly back down the shore towards the docks. Thorunn was left to stand, staring after her rather like a lackwit, which was how she felt. It...Could it be so? Could it have been made so? Hilde wasn't waiting for her? She did not have to return to the fish? She could, indeed, run to the cliffs and sleep under the sky of the gods if she desired, with no one to tell her nay?
She felt a scream building up in her stomach to which she could not give voice, not here, and so she picked her way across the stones, slipping, to one of the many paths that wound up the side of the hills surrounding the village. Racing along the path until she was breathless and spent, and far enough away so as not to cause alarm to anyone, she fell down amid a pile of bushes and screamed, then, in awe of the thing that had just happened.
As the free woman that you are.
How utterly, powerfully perfect.
She had not known her body could contain such a feeling of effervescent happiness. She closed her eyes tightly shut and gave heartfelt thanks to the gods.