Frida felt like the whole world was watching her as she made her way across the stone paved floor of the long-hall. Her heartbeat was fast and strong, her face flushed with heat as she soon stepped up on the raised wooden platform on which the two large wooden chairs stood, and where Ragnar already was seated, as the king he was on his throne.
Ragnar did not look at her, however, as she sat down next to him, but his eyes hovered the crowd before them while he absentmindedly stroked the head of a small white lamb that laid curled up in his lap.
Frida heard the low murmuring and whispers that spread through the crowd of Norsemen when she entered the room, and she quickly scanned the crowd to have her eyes connect with Lagertha's, suddenly not feeling the sensation of bravery in her chest that Ragnar's earlier wife had just had her feel.
Lagertha smiled at her and nodded her head.
Frida exhaled deeply, and finally found the courage to look at the faces of the men before her.
They were all so very tall and broad, their beards reaching down over their bulky chests and their hard eyes following her every movement. She noticed that especially Rollo was eyeing her intently, his eyes focused on the necklace that hung down over her chest.
Frida reached her hand up to let her fingers close around it, wishing that the same feeling of calmness that the horse had had her feel in the forest would shine upon her in this moment.
A man that she had not yet laid her eyes upon stepped forward, and he proudly strode onward to stand before Ragnar and Frida, his eyes glaring at her face. He cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together, while the sound of the murmuring crowd died down.
"I wish," he grumbled in a deep voice, "to report a thief."
Frida looked at Ragnar out of the corner of her eye, and she saw him curling his lips at the man, his eyes narrowing down at him slightly.
"Yes?" Ragnar hummed, still stroking the lamb in his lap gently.
It bleated softly between his hands, while the man explained how every morning, when he went out to do his daily chores, he would find the eggs of his chickens to be gone and the his cow to have been already emptied for its milk. His gardens would already have been plucked, the berries of his bushes already picked.
"However," he hummed, "The foliage around my house is never treaded down, and the traps I have set forth have not been touched. I…"
The man's growling voice broke, and he looked down upon his feet, resignedly. Frida looked at the man with soft eyes as she could tell that he was not angry about this theft. He was just desperate for it to stop.
"Hm," Ragnar voiced beside her, "And who do you think is responsible for this?"
Frida saw the men standing around him eyeing each other, some sort of exchange of words going on between them without their lips moving. The man in front of them shrugged his shoulders, his head falling down on his chest in resignation.
"Someone who has no shame. I cannot feed my family, my king. We are starving."
Frida turned her head to look at Ragnar, and she saw that he was eyeing her too, his lips curled. She widened her eyes when she saw him lifting his eyebrows at her, as if urging her to speak. Frida shook her head in quick movements at him.
She was not ready yet.
Ragnar sighed out and put down the lamb, rising to his feet. He was very dramatic in his movements as he stepped down to put an arm over the shoulders of the robbed man, eyeing him closely.
"So your thief is someone who cleverly has outsmarted your traps, and someone who can apparently hover the land, yes?"
A chuckling sound was heard from several parts of the crowd in the long-hall, and Frida furrowed her brows as Ragnar turned for the two of them to face the crowd. She was intrigued to see how Ragnar would solve this mystery, and she leaned forward in her seat, following the two men with her eyes as they made their way further down closer to the fire.
"We are not savages in this village," Ragnar's voice howled over the many Viking hairs, "We steal not from our fellow men. If the thief does not show himself before me and…" Ragnar turned his head to lay his eyes upon Frida for mere seconds, "your coming queen before the end of this day, you will all go to this man's house and serve him a fair part of your food supply. Be it hens, goats, crops or fruits."
She saw Ragnar whisper something to the man that thankfully had fallen to his knees before his king, and Ragnar turned to curl his lips at Frida, making his way back to his throne.
Frida had in the meantime frozen in her spot, her limbs stunned from Ragnar's words.
Your coming queen?
Her eyes started to prickle when she did not blink. Her breath was stuck in her throat.
"But what if it is the gods who are punishing him?" a voice rang out from the crowd.
Ragnar froze in his spot, his smile fading slowly, as he turned around. The men of the crowd were all turning their heads to catch a glimpse of whoever had uttered the accusation.
Ragnar exhaled deeply.
Frida stretched her neck too, trying to see who the voice belonged to. A red haired man stepped forward with his arms crossed over his chest, a questioning smile parting his lips. "Like the story of Kolbein, the farmer who burned his neighbor's food stock so he would gain wealth by selling crops to him, who was punished by Freyja and Frigg by having all of his own supply struck by lightning and burned to ashes."
While the robbed man rose to his feet, Ragnar put his thumb to his mouth, weighing the words in his head. Frida furrowed her brows at the red haired man.
She did not like his air.
"But what has our dear Bjarni done to anger the gods?" asked Ragnar, nodding his head towards the robbed man.
Yet another man stepped forward from the crowd, raising his hand in which he carried an ax. "His prices of weaponry have increased greatly," he said in rushed words, "Which is convenient now that the elder blacksmith has fallen ill."
A rush of whispers spread through the crowd, and Frida felt her stomach hardening, a bad sensation growing inside of her. Her eyes connected with Ragnar's, and she felt herself slowly shaking her head while clenching her fists around the arms of her chair.
She did not believe Bjarni to have angered the gods merely by raising his prices. He had raised them to be able to provide for his family, and the gods would never punish such a deed.
At least, that was her feeling about it.
Ragnar chuckled raptly.
"What say you, Frida?" his voice called out over the crowd, and he vividly sprang up to stand on the longtable, his stare on her very intense.
Frida closed her eyes when she felt everyone's attention turning to her, and she shifted nervously in her seat, her blood racing inside her veins.
This was it.
Now was the time she had to stand up and face the Viking villagers, to show them who she was, and show them that she was just in her actions.
She rose to her feet with trembling knees, and her hand reached up to grab at her golden necklace, the pink stone cooling her fingers mildly.
The stories that Athelstan had told her about the two goddesses Freyja and Frigg did not chime well with this situation. They had nothing to do with this.
Her head was shaking lightly, when she finally spoke out in a stronger voice than she had expected, and with her eyes closed: "Freyja and Frigg would never punish a husband and a father for trying to provide for his family. I say that someone in here is the guilty one, and I wish to speak to him before sundown."
She opened her eyes only to connect them with Ragnar's.
She saw his lips curling into a twisted smile, his blue crystals shining wildly with excitement. He let a breathy chuckle escape his lips as he walked across the longtable with his arms in the air before he jumped down to join her.
"Well, there you have it," Ragnar concluded and his head turned slightly to look at the crowd behind him, "The gathering is over."
Frida sensed the red haired man's eyes on her face, and she glared at him, noticing a vein pulsating under the skin of his forehead. He seemed to snarl at her before he turned around to leave the long-hall.
Frida inhaled deeply, closing her eyes, when she felt Ragnar's hand upon hers as he sat down beside her. She felt her blood pump rapidly inside her body, both excitement and apprehension racing along her limbs.
She felt Ragnar plant a kiss on her forehead, his musky smell reaching her nostrils and calming her down a little.
"You were very good just now, very fair," he breathed in a raspy voice, "You will marry me, will you not?"
Frida opened her eyes in surprise.