Freya, p.20
Freya, page 20
Freya scanned the area for her brother and spotted him with his back to them as he talked to their father.
“No, he’ll make me go inside the moment he spots me. But I needed to find you. Freya, you must watch for Hakin. He will try to lose himself among his warriors when he can’t find Grímr. He will end up next to you and Erik. You must fight him. Freya, it has to be you.”
Freya looked at her sister-in-law and understood Sigrid was not making a suggestion.
“You’ve seen this.” It was a statement not a question.
“I have.”
“Sigrid!” Leif’s bellow sounded like an angry bull about to charge.
“I have to go! Remember what I said. It’s vital you fight him. Don’t let him get away. The gods showed me it was you.” Sigrid lifted her long tunic to her knees and ran as best as her belly would allow until she was inside the family’s longhouse. Freya knew she would find shelter and safety in the hidden alcove where her own mother was waiting for Sigrid.
Freya looked for Erik. She would fight alongside him, and she knew Strian would pair with Tyra just as Leif and Bjorn paired. Erik waved her over to where he stood with both Rangvald and Lorna. Freya was yet to hear the story about Lorna and Rangvald. Freya intended to ask her mother-in-law how she came to be as well trained as Freya and Tyra, more so if Freya considered her added years of experience. Lorna was the most breathtaking woman she had ever seen, and dressed for battle with her hair pulled back, leather pants and leather vest, and a belt with several knives and an ax made her look like an avenging Valkyrie. She could imagine how Rangvald could have been so taken by her.
“Fight alongside me?” Erik asked when she came to stand beside him.
“Of course. Erik, Sigrid--” Freya was cut short by the sound of the battle horn.
En masse, Freya’s tribe and those warriors Rangvald brought with him surged towards the gates of the wooden wall surrounding the homestead. They had the advantage of fighting downhill. Archers launched their arrows at the attackers who were beginning their ascent. Bodies began to litter the ground, and the enemy had to step over the fallen. Freya scanned the hoard for Grímr or Hakin, but could not find them. It was only moments later that pandemonium broke loose. The first contact was made between the combatants. Freya had only a moment to glance around and see her father fought as a trio with Leif and Bjorn, and as she suspected Strian paired with Tyra. She had a moment of panic as she realized the two most recently injured and still convalescing warriors were paired together. She pushed through the mass of fighters as she tried to make her way towards her family.
“Erik!” she called over her shoulder. “I need you this way.”
She edged around two women but could not afford to look back to see if Erik followed. She made it only a few steps before she felt a large hand on her shoulder and sensed a large frame behind her. The gentleness of the touch was the only indicator it was Erik and kept her from brandishing her sword. She plowed on, reaching Strian and Tyra as the enemy surrounded them. She could see the effort Tyra made to hold her own as the woman’s muscles flexed and strained. Strian kept up, but Freya could tell they each needed a partner who had more endurance. Paired with someone else, they would each stand the chance to defend themselves and overpower the enemies they faced.
“Bjorn! Leif! You must switch,” she pulled away from Erik to take on the man approaching Tyra. “One of you to Tyra. The other to Strian.”
Bjorn looked to her then Tyra. He saw Tyra struggle against a man a foot taller than she was, and while she was outmaneuvering him, Bjorn bellowed with rage. He slashed through two men to get to Tyra’s side.
“I’m not dying today, woman, so you had better live.” He received only a grunt in response.
Strian shifted and took Bjorn’s spot with Leif and Ivar. Strian was now leaner than Leif or Ivar, and the less bulk made him more agile. He struck with his ax and knife whenever Leif or Ivar could create an indefensible area on the opponent’s body.
“Freya!” Erik backed into her. “To my left, your right. Here come three.”
Freya and Erik battled three against two, but after training together and fighting alongside one another through several skirmishes, they had an easy rhythm as two choreographed dancers. Movement to Freya’s right signaled another warrior approaching. Her eyes shifted long enough to see it was Hakin, but he was not looking at her or Erik. He was not even looking at her family or friends. Instead he seemed to be searching for someone. Freya brought her sword down in a sharp sweep, taking the head off one opponent before thrusting forward into the other just as Erik ended the man he fought.
“Hakin’s looking for someone, and it’s not any of us.”
“My parents?”
“Maybe. This way.” Freya led the pair towards where Rangvald and Lorna fought. Freya had the briefest moment to wonder if she and Erik looked as synchronized as his parents. It was clear they knew each other’s movements and intentions with no need for words. It was as if they were one beast with two heads and four arms. They moved as one.
“Impressive, aren’t they?” Erik wiped sweat and blood from his face. “Don’t worry. We are almost there.”
Freya smirked, “Must you always read my mind?”
“Yes.”
There was no time for more. Freya saw Hakin backing away as he tried to blend in while avoiding fighting. She scanned the area, but there was no sign of Grímr, but two warriors approached Erik and her. The shieldmaiden screeched as she launched herself at Freya, and the latter heard a man grunt as Erik’s sword made impact with his opponent’s shield. Freya focused on the woman in front of her. She was broader than Freya but quick; however, she had none of Freya’s strength or agility. Freya taunted the woman as she moved out of reach or blocked the woman’s thrusts. The quick burst of energy used by Hakin’s shieldmaiden ran out, so it was only a few more swipes of her sword before Freya felled the larger woman. Freya swung around to help Erik and the two swords attacking at once was more than their opponent could defend.
“I have to find Hakin,” Freya had to yell over the din of the nearby clashing swords.
“No. We fight where we are.”
“You don’t understand. I tried to tell you earlier. Sigrid told me I had to.”
“Not yet. We can’t move anywhere, and I don’t see him.”
Freya spun in a slow circle as she scanned for Hakin. Erik was right. The man was nowhere to be seen.
“What about Grímr? Have you seen him?”
Erik pointed his sword towards the dock.
“There. He hasn’t joined the fight.”
“Is he too injured or too coward? Or is he cunning enough to let his brother get himself killed?”
“The latter for sure.”
Freya had no time to say anymore. She spotted Hakin making his way towards his brother. Hakin turned his back to Freya.
“Now,” she called to Erik but did not wait for his response. She darted to the outskirts of the battle and pointed herself towards the docks. There were still mercenaries surging up the hill, but she dodged and skirted around them. Once again, she could not look behind her to see if Erik followed. She had to assume he would. Sigrid’s prophecies came when they did for a reason. If Sigrid saw Freya slaying Hakin during this battle, Freya accepted this was fate’s decision. She would not countermand the gods’ decision.
One of Rangvald’s men was locked in battle with Hakin, so it made it easy for Freya to position herself to strike. Rangvald’s man spotted her, and she tilted her head away. The warrior backed away as Freya called out.
“I thought you were going to kill me and my brother. What about Erik Rangvaldson? You have all three of us here, yet you run away like a little girl who’s wet her tunic.”
Freya taunted Hakin knowing her words could not go unpunished. To insinuate Hakin was effeminate in any way was the gravest of insults to a Norseman. While taunting and insults were a common tactic in battle, her choice of words went beyond the norm.
“Did Inga steal your cock the last time you plowed her? She seemed in control when I saw her.”
Hakin roared with fury and charged forward. His retreat forgotten and his pride injured, he attacked like an injured boar. Freya was prepared. She blocked his first swing, and the reverberation seared through her arm all the way to her ribs, but she struck out her leg and kicked him in the abdomen. He stumbled back several feet, and Freya used it to her advantage. She brought her sword up over her left shoulder as she held it in both hands and hacked straight down. Her blade sliced through Hakin’s sword arm at the elbow. Blood erupted from the severed limb, and Hakin stood frozen looking at the stump and then the forearm and hand that lay on the ground. Freya watched the transformation as he moved from an angry warrior to a berserker. She knew what to expect. He pulled a knife from his belt and once again charged her. Despite the blood spewing from his wound, he moved like a man possessed. He thrust his knife towards her throat, but she twisted her wrist and rammed the hilt of her sword into his nose. She hoped to shove the bone straight back into his brain, but the angle of impact only broke it. More blood spurted from him, and he crumpled to the ground. She took a step forward to end Hakin’s life, but a hand grabbed a fistful of her vest and yanked her backwards taking her off her feet. She tried to twist, but she realized Erik pulled her away just as one of Hakin’s men stood poised to decapitate her.
“I will take you over my knee later, and it won’t be for either of our pleasure.” Erik was angrier than Freya had ever heard him. She knew he would be within his rights as her husband, and he was entitled to demand punishment for a partner who abandoned him during battle.
“Yes, husband.” It was the most deferential she had ever heard herself be, and it was the most deferential she ever felt.
Erik’s response was a grunt as he continued to drag her away from the fighting.
“Wait. Erik, he’s not dead.”
“And neither are you.”
“I have to make sure. I have to kill him. Sigrid said so.”
“But did Sigrid also tell you to leave me with no clue where you were running to? Did Sigrid tell you to stand there and get your head lopped off? I’m sure she didn’t.”
Freya saw Erik’s body tremble with anger. His eyes were the color of glaciers that broke off and floated through the fjords. A frozen blue and directed at her.
“Erik,” she choked.
“Don’t. Not now. We will deal with this later.”
Erik turned away, and that’s when she saw the gash that ran along the back of his ribs to just below his arm.
“Erik,” she screamed. “Dear gods, you’re injured.”
“I know,” his withering glare made the bile rise in her throat.
She could not move. Remorse, guilt, shame, and fear froze her in place.
When she did not follow him again, Erik looked back and watched as Freya’s heart broke. It was as though he could see through her to the shards splintering apart.
“It’s not that bad. More of a graze.”
“But I did that. I’m as guilty as if it were my blade. I got you injured, and I could have gotten you killed.”
The battle swirled on around them. The noise of hundreds of swords clanging, the screams of pain, and grunts of effort were deafening. The injured and dead strewn the ground. The stench of death and defecation was nauseating. But all Freya could take in was the danger she put her husband in, and the disappointment in herself for failing him.
“I’m angry, not because I got injured but because I couldn’t defend you. You did what you wanted to do never mind the risk it put you in. That’s what infuriates me. But Freya, I’m not leaving you.”
Freya swallowed but shook her head.
“You have every right to.”
“No, I don’t. You are a warrior first in battle, and my wife second. You did what we train a warrior to do. It’s me who is having a hard time not being a husband first then a warrior. I’m angry as your partner that you risked both our lives, but I won’t stop loving my wife over it. Now, can we please go?”
Erik grabbed her wrist and pulled her back up the hill. She looked over her shoulder and saw a man pulling Hakin towards their boats. She could not tell if he was alive or dead.
“Erik.” He looked back at her, and he followed her sword as she pointed out Hakin. “What if he’s not dead?”
“Then he will be soon. There is no way he could survive the amount of blood he was losing.”
“But you can’t be sure.”
“No, I can’t. But I can be sure we must continue fighting.”
As if on cue, four mercenaries materialized and surrounded them. Their conversation was over.
chapter twenty-two
They spent the remainder of the morning in battle. Hakin had more of his own tribe’s warriors than anyone expected, and then there were the mercenaries he and Grímr hired. Five boats sailed into the fjord. Three were the ones that followed them from Scotland, even after one disappeared, and the other two must have met them along the way, explaining the delay. The mercenaries might have been useless sailors, but they were all well-trained fighters. Most fought in their plaids, but none of them wore clan colors, favoring solid black or dark blue. It was still impossible to tell which clan was supporting Hakin or Grímr, or, if not supporting them, at least had plenty of men willing to fight. Freya knew the men from Orkney because they wore leather breeches like the Norse. They blended in with Hakin’s tribe, but many favored the longer Highland broadsword.
It was not a decisive victory, not with hundreds of casualties and deaths on both sides, but the enemy was forced to retreat. With Hakin too injured to fight or lead, and Grímr refusing to engage beyond the middle of the hill, they retreated once more to the boat. Erik surmised that Grímr remained positioned midway up the hill to ostensibly support those in the rear or to prevent them retreating without the signal. Everyone was sure Grímr did not engage because he did not want to endanger himself and risk not outlasting everyone else. His goal was still to be jarl of Hakin’s, Rangvald’s and Ivar’s homesteads, a goal he could not achieve if he was dead.
Freya and Erik made their way to her parents’ longhouse with all the others. They walked beside one another without speaking, but just before they entered, Erik pulled Freya aside.
“We’re going straight to our chamber. Grab clean clothes and your soap.”
Freya looked at Erik and saw none of the anger from earlier. Instead she saw the same weariness she felt. She nodded her head, and they went to their chamber. Freya hurried to gather what she needed. The last thing she wanted was to keep Erik waiting. They exited the longhouse but did not get far before they heard Sigrid call to Freya. They walked back to meet as she held her belly and hurried towards them.
“Freya, you took his sword arm, didn’t you?”
Freya nodded but looked to the ground.
Sigrid looked between the couple and stepped forward to place her hands on both Freya’s shoulders.
“Look at me, Freya. You took an enormous risk today. One I didn’t mean for you to take when I said it had to be you to slay Hakin. I should have been clearer and not put so much pressure on you.” Sigrid looked to Erik. “It’s my fault she took off on her own. I stressed the importance she not let Hakin get away. I insisted it had to be her. I saw it all. But I didn’t see the danger Freya was in until another vision came during the battle. However, I know you didn’t kill him here, but he dies before the night is through. You have rid us of one of our evils.”
Freya did not move. Erik and Sigrid watched her, but her eyes remained on the ground. The cousins looked at one another, and Sigrid’s expression made it clear she expected him to take care of his wife. Sigrid turned back to the longhouse, and Erik scooped Freya into his arms. She curled into his chest and rested her head on his shoulder.
“I told you, princess, one day you would enjoy me carrying you. Do you remember that?”
Freya nodded but said nothing.
“You didn’t like me very much back then.”
“Not true,” she whispered. “I loved you. I didn’t enjoy thinking you believed I was weak.”
Erik pulled the door to the bathhouse open as he balanced Freya. They stepped inside the warm wooden building. Erik put Freya down and moved to the bucket of water that sat near the wall. He scooped a ladle full to pour over the hot stones in the center. Steam rose and filled the air, and Erik walked over to open the hatch in the wall that would allow water from the hot spring to enter one tub. The tub would warm too once Erik lit the small fire pit below it.
Freya listlessly watched Erik move about as he prepared a bath. She felt too drained to assist him. She knew it was not battle fatigue but the emotional strain of waiting to see how Erik would punish her. She felt anxious and agitated but too worn out for her body to show it. Erik returned and undressed her. His touch was slow and gentle as he released the buttons on her fur vest and pushed it from her shoulders. He pulled her tunic loose from the waist of her breeches but paused.
“Freya, are you scared?”
She looked into eyes she recognized once again. The warmth had returned, but she was still frightened. She was his wife now, and he had the right to do as he saw fit in punishing her. She had angered him plenty of times before, perhaps not as much as she had that day, but he had never lain a hand on her. She nodded once.
“Oh, Freya.” She heard the frustration in his voice and took a step back. “Stop.”
She froze.
“Freya, I was furious with you. We both know that. I told you it was the risk you put yourself in that angered me, but it was also my inability to stop you or protect you. We failed each other today. You abandoned me to fight alone, but I failed you by not following soon enough.”
Erik released the clasp to his fur cloak and pulled his tunic over his head. He saw Freya watching him, saw the spark of desire, and then watched it fizzle as shame replaced it. He lifted her chin and tried to read the storm of emotions brewing within her eyes.
“I know you feel remorse for me getting injured, which you can see is just a scratch,” he twisted to show her. “And I know you feel shame for not being there. And I think you feel you’ve dishonored yourself. But what I don’t understand is whether you’re afraid I will punish you or if you’re afraid I will leave you. Which do you fear?”
