Jilliand Page 12

  “They will stay together and will return to where they belong. Just like people.” He watched the horses for a moment, adding, “Your horse will go with the others.” Jilliand prayed Rurik was right.

  When the Viking ship finally sailed to the shore, everyone boarded with a great deal of bantering among the men. Jilliand did not understand them but guessed they teased Rurik because of her. He didn’t seem to mind. Jilliand felt comfortable with herself and these men. Her short time away from them, however, reassured her. Jilliand knew she could take care of herself, if need be. She was learning that her strength came from within. I am not certain where life will take me, but I know I can manage. She walked the starboard of the ship, watching the oars dip to push the water aside while the vessel moved away from the shore and out to sea. An English lady and Viking warriors …

  On the second morning, excitement pervaded the crew as the warship sailed ever closer to home. Standing near the ship’s bow, Jilliand watched the distant shoreline expand. Great snowcapped peaks rose in the background. Smaller ones huddled close to the base of the mountains seeking shelter beneath those towering above them. Evergreen trees crowded the mountainsides, while leafy varieties spilled over onto the valleys and plateaus at the mountain bases. Still dressed in the restful greens of summer, vegetation had begun to try on warm fall colors, casting speckles of color about.

  Several Viking ships were tethered to the shore, swaying gracefully with the rolling waves. Structures along the seaboard grew as Rurik’s ship sailed closer. The settlement appeared more orderly than anything Jilliand had seen in England. Smoke curled up from chimneys, animals grazed, and people moved about. While not surrounded by thick wooden walls like her father’s burg, the Viking buildings appeared more permanent. There were smaller buildings made of timber, and many were covered with grasses growing on the sides, on the roofs, and around the structures. At one edge of the common grounds, other larger rectangular buildings sat. They had large doors facing the common grounds. From two of these, men could be seen leaving. A figure standing near the water was the first to spot the returning ship. One shout brought women and children, followed by men, running to the land’s edge, calling out to the vessel’s crew. With growing anxiety, Jilliand hung back.

  Rurik and his men got off the ship and were immediately surrounded by a crowd that was laughing, hugging, and talking. Jilliand moved near the stern of the ship out of the way, watching the women. Nothing looked like she imagined, not the land, not the homes, and certainly not the women. Most of the women in the pitiful settlements Jilliand had seen in England were dirty, their clothes worn to rags and defeat displayed on their tired faces. Clearly, these women were different. Many were short with darker hair, maybe captives like Jilliand. They wore plain loose shifts with sleeves that reached their forearms. Over the shifts they wore colored panels of cloth that reached from the neckline to nearly the hem of the shift. The panels were held in place at the shoulders with thick braided material. Their hair was tucked under simple head coverings. Other women wore similar clothes, but much richer in detail. The panels worn over their shifts were deeper in color, displayed detailed designs sewn along the neckline and hem, and were attached at the shoulders with a jeweled bar pin. Their hair was worn up, but uncovered, and they wore an abundance of jewelry, rings, bracelets, and neck chains. These women were tall and light skinned, just like Rurik and his crew. Though the clothing and hairstyle spoke to a higher station, all the women worked equally hard side by side. When Jilliand finally stepped off the boat, the modestly dressed women greeted her. Animated, speaking in both English and French, the women confirmed they were indeed all servants or slaves. From the way they behaved, Jilliand surmised they must have been treated well, for none were frightened. They spoke excitedly to each other and to Jilliand, as she was herded along with them.

  “We’ll show you where you can sleep. Come. Do not be afraid. We are treated well here—some of us better than by our husbands at home. ’Tis not a bad place,” a matronly woman said, as she kindly took Jilliand’s hand. From a distance, Rurik looked around for Jilliand. He stood alone, watching her being led away. Nearby, Greida watched both the Sea King Rurik and Jilliand. Her eyes narrowed with jealousy.

  Details of his raids were expected, so Rurik resisted the impulse to go after Jilliand. Instead, he dropped by another home. The home of the old woman, his mother, Olga. After a short greeting, he left Olga inside. As Rurik walked away, Olga came to the door of her home and watched the chattering cluster with Jilliand. Her eyes scanned the people milling around, until she found Greida, who was clearly angry, watching Jilliand. Rurik had not spoken to Greida, nor had he acknowledged her. He had forgotten about her. Bad times come, I fear, Olga thought as she stepped back into her home.

  The womenfolk led Jilliand to one of the larger huts. Inside was an open space, housing looms, basket workings, and several children. An iron frame held a kettle over a large fire pit just inside the door. Built all along the sides, were sleeping platforms covered with mats and blankets. Just as Jilliand was shown an available platform, a child came to the door and spoke, but Jilliand could not understand what was said. However, she could tell the mood changed at his announcement. A hush fell over the room.

  “Is it bad? What does he say?” Jilliand asked, her eyes on the young lad. The women exchanged glances.

  “You are to go with him. It will be fine. Just go with him.” One of the older women walked with her to the door.

  “Where does he take me?” Jilliand hesitated, looking at the faces regarding her.

  “You belong to someone,” the woman said softly. Closing the door after Jilliand, the women felt sorry for her. Jilliand’s time in this settlement could end very badly. Several of the ladies spoke of one woman’s reaction—Greida’s.

  Looking back at the door as it closed behind her, Jilliand’s heart fell. I think on this day, I become what he intended—a slave. The child led Jilliand to a different house. It was much smaller, housing a place for sleeping, a great fire pit that provided the only light, a chair, and little else. Jilliand walked around looking for signs that other women might live there. Nothing indicated that anyone lived there. Sighing, she set her few belongings on the sleeping slat, folded her cloaks, and began to carry wood pieces from near the door to the fire.

  Rurik entered without a sound as she sat near the fire. She only heard his steps when he stood right behind her. “Are you sad, Jilliand?” he asked softly.

  “No. Just alone. What am I to do now? It would seem this place is not used often.” She turned to him. He could see her beautiful eyes in the light from the fire. Those eyes haunted him every night. Soon, he thought. He took her hand. “Come. We visit my brother, Olav, and his family this night. You will like Astrid, his wife.”

  She hesitated a moment. Perhaps not a slave after all.

  To Jilliand’s surprise, she did like his sister-in-law—a great deal. Olav’s home was a long structure with a great fire pit near the front end. The pit itself was surrounded by large, flat rocks set on end. Over the pit, suspended by a chain from a huge center beam in the ceiling, hung a large pot. The pot’s contents boiled, sending an aroma into the home that made Jilliand’s mouth water. In the middle of the space were several chairs, a table, and a rack from which hung other cooking utensils and different kinds of meat. Beyond the rack, Jilliand could see shelves with plates, bowls, cups, and eating utensils. The far end of the space was dark, but Jilliand could make out several sleeping platforms. The room and its contents made the area feel like a home. Jilliand felt an unexpected wave of relief. Astrid motioned to Jilliand to join her near the fire while she kept an eye on the pot. She handed Jilliand a cup of warm mead. It was apparent everyone was happy to see Rurik, and she felt like the conversation most certainly included her, as several times Olav looked her way and nodded or laughed. Jilliand could not speak the language, but with hand motions and nods, they communicated nonetheless. When it was time to leave, Jilliand wa
s handed a stack of thick, soft blankets. Rurik walked with her back to the house. He stepped inside, added wood to the fire, stood for a moment looking at her, and then walked out without speaking. He knew their time would come but not on this night. It was enough that she was with his people and was welcome. When she could no longer hear his footsteps, Jilliand pulled at the door. It swung into the room easily and was unguarded outside. For the first time, she was in a room alone but not restrained or locked up. Jilliand was grateful to be left alone, though she was haunted by her ill-defined relationship with Rurik.

  When the morning sun blessed the village with warmth, Jilliand left her house in search of the women she met when she had arrived. She could hear the sounds of a stream behind her house, and several women walked past her carrying cauldrons of water. Others carried children. Still others walked, laughing and talking, across the compound toward pens where cattle and sheep stood expectantly. She saw men in small groups leaving the settlement carrying axes and other tools. The sound of cattle, sheep, and horses mixed with the laughter of children. People paid her little mind. She obviously belonged to Rurik. He had not restricted her, nor would they. Jilliand smiled to herself. So unlike father’s home, this place.

  Jilliand quickly fell into a routine. Each day she joined the women, where she began learning to weave, cook, dry hides, and make ceramic pots. The women were kind, and with much laughter and jesting, they passed their days. The life was hard, but not harsh. None of these women were afraid. Children ran in and out, taunting, teasing, and playing. Jilliand had never spent time in such an environment. She began to feel more at ease.

  From the way some of the women watched Rurik when he walked through the settlement, Jilliand knew they had spent time with him. One woman in particular repeatedly tried to engage the sea king in coy conversation, but he would not respond. He brushed the woman aside. Jilliand soon learned the woman’s name was Greida. Though none spoke of it, Jilliand could tell that Greida hated her. Jilliand felt that Greida’s loathing was because of Rurik. That knowledge made Jilliand’s heart ache if she allowed herself to think about it. Jilliand resolved to push Rurik from her thinking and concentrated on staying busy learning the things these women knew. She would not come between Rurik and Greida. After all, Greida belonged here, Jilliand did not.

  One morning, an old woman came to walk with Jilliand as Jilliand carried a cauldron of water to the communal house. Jilliand had often seen her around the compound speaking to everyone, walking slowly, hunched over, usually clutching a basket with her twisted arthritic fingers. Walking in step with Jilliand, she talked nonstop. Unable to understand a word the woman said, Jilliand still felt at ease with her. The woman did not appear to belong to anyone in particular. She lived alone in a house near the edge of the settlement. When she was around, every woman in the village, both Viking and slave, treated her with reverence. Jilliand’s morning walks with her became a daily ritual because the old woman sought her out every day. Jilliand did not realize the old woman was Olga, Rurik’s mother. In the beginning, Greida had only watched Jilliand, but twice Jilliand had met her within the common area, and both times, Greida bumped Jilliand viciously, nearly knocking her to the ground, and then smiled cruelly as she walked past. To Jilliand’s relief, when the old woman was with her, Greida kept her distance.

  In the early hours of the morning one day, the old woman came to Jilliand’s home, knocking urgently on her door. The words were foreign; the urgency in her voice was not. Jilliand threw on a cloak and ran after the old woman. They scurried across the grounds to one of the family houses. Jilliand could feel the relief in the room when the old woman entered the home. I think this woman is a healer.

  Jilliand was relieved to see Greida was not present. Children had been herded out to other homes while the husband stood near watching a pregnant woman who squatted, grasping the edges of a sleeping pallet. The mother’s moans became louder as the women around her seemed to be encouraging her. Suddenly, water gushed from the moaning woman, and her labor intensified. Jilliand stood out of the way, eyes fixed on the scene. When the baby’s head protruded, the old woman knelt, holding a soft blanket to catch the newborn. The mother and babe were cleaned. One of the women handed the babe to the husband. He laid the child on his knee and sprinkled the infant boy with water, showing he accepted and acknowledged the child. The child was put to the mother’s breast as the final act of taking the child into the family and giving him all inherited rights. Jilliand remembered Gouldon’s attack on her. If he had been successful, she could have been heavy with his child. I cannot even bear to think on it, she shuddered.

  The people of the settlement were not what Jilliand would have imagined a Viking people to be. Many of those captured had become free members by the second generation. Children were frequently adopted and raised as Viking, without prejudice. Captives were expected to learn the language and customs, as well as adopt the religion. Jilliand could understand and talk with the captive women, but the Viking language was difficult. Still, she tried to learn and was careful to keep her conversations clear of religion. As yet, only Greida had challenged her, and Greida’s behavior was rapidly becoming bolder.

  Greida made it her business to denigrate Jilliand whenever she could, while keeping a wary eye out for the old woman and the men. Greida’s actions and verbal abuse made Jilliand’s life increasingly unpleasant. Greida insisted Jilliand carry water and wood to her house, and clean it, while trying to keep Jilliand away from the house Rurik kept for Jilliand. Greida was never pleased with Jilliand’s work and made certain the other women knew Jilliand’s failures. Rurik seemed unaware of Greida’s treatment of Jilliand, and Jilliand was loath to tell him, since she was still unable to understand her relationship with him. For his part, Rurik carefully watched the friendship growing between Jilliand and Olga. Rurik was gone most of the time until evening, when he made it a point to come see Jilliand. She looked forward to his coming and felt a pang of sadness each time he left her. Rurik slept someplace else, and in her heart, Jilliand believed he went to Greida.

  During his evening visits to Jilliand, Rurik sat watching her as she learned to work the loom. Sometimes he talked of the traditions of his people, how travelers were to be cared for in the winter, because of winter’s deadly harshness. He spoke of the importance of children, explaining how children would ensure the lives of his people long after he and the others were dead. He spoke of their gods and talked about the honor and privilege that came to any Viking who died fighting. He explained that most of the men in the settlement were cousins, brothers, or best friends, all bound by love and a deep sense of loyalty to Rurik and each other. As Jilliand listened, she studied this strange man—this man who did not try to hurt her, was never harsh with her, and who seemed comfortable with her. He seemed so different from the man she had watched kill women, children, and men with equal ease. She observed the reaction of the people to each other, to Rurik, and to her. They were all bound together. One evening, during his visit, she observed aloud, “Maybe we, your people and mine, are not so different.”

  Rurik studied her for a long moment. “There are differences, Jilliand,” he replied, quietly. She was not certain how to respond, so she did not. He sat with her longer that evening—seldom speaking, only watching her and dozing by the fire. Jilliand felt comfortable and at peace with him near.

  Jilliand proved a quick study at sewing, cooking, and tanning hides. She took her turn feeding the animals and caring for children. Through it all, though, she could feel a growing distance between her and the other captured women. Not a hard one but still a distance. As long as Rurik continued to visit her each evening, she thought little about her station in this place. It was enough that she was made to feel welcome by most of the people.

  As for Greida, Jilliand dealt with every confrontation calmly, while avoiding the woman as much as possible. Greida could not have known that cruelty was not new to Jilliand. At some point, I will be forced to carry a weapon a
round Greida. I pray I am not forced to use it. Although none of the women spoke aloud about Greida’s behavior, Jilliand could feel they were uncomfortable watching Greida. Jilliand prayed Greida would not make her live as an outcast in the settlement.

  CHAPTER 15

  THE CHILDREN BECAME JILLIAND’S BEST teachers. Timidly, she tried out the Norse language with the small ones. Each day, Jilliand slipped away to be with them. They explored the entire area, sat on the banks of the river running nearby, and watched the sea. She listened to their stories, laughed at their pranks, and encouraged them as they happily enjoyed each day. For their part, they took great pride in her increasing vocabulary, trying to teach her new words each time they were together. Except for Greida, Jilliand’s days were passing easily.

  One evening, as Jilliand was weaving alone in her house, a slave came to her. “You are to come,” he said. Frowning, Jilliand hesitated, praying it was not Greida who sent him. When Jilliand did not immediately answer, the young man assumed she did not understand him and gestured urgently.

  Jilliand set aside her loom, pulled her hair back, donned her cloak, and followed him. Dressed in a simple black shift that reached the ground, she wore no jewelry except the one hair comb she had found tucked within the gowns Rurik had taken for her, the locket Rurik had taken from the old captain, and the amulet Rurik had insisted she wear hidden underneath her shift.

  Jilliand was led to the great hall reserved for men. Jilliand had never been inside the hall before and hesitated now. The slave opened the door and stood expectantly. Jilliand stepped through the doorway. A quick survey proved Jilliand was the only woman inside, and there were visitors. She stood still, not sure what was expected of her. Greida watched Jilliand walk into the men’s building with jealousy near the erupting point.