Page 9 of Her Viking Saviour
“Freydis” Torben spoke softly, “I am home, and I have brought someone I would like you to meet.”
Wynflaed wondered if he had spoken too softly as the fair-headed figure did not move. Her hair was like spun silk, plaited with intricate detail in ropes that fell down her back. Just when she thought Torben would speak again, she started to turn and Wynflaed came face to face with the most beautiful girl she had ever seen. Her eyes differed from Torben’s, more green than blue, and her features were ethereal in their femininity. She almost did not seem real. But along the left side of her cheek was a jagged, puckered scar that ran from the corner of her eye to the tip of her chin. It was a pale red in colour, not yet healed white, and Wynflaed’s heart went out to the girl at the pain that wound must have caused her.
“Ugly, isn’t it?” she said in a melodious but hardened tone as she stared defiantly at Torben before casting her gaze on Wynflaed.
She knew the response she made now would determine whether she and Freydis would be friends or foes. Wynflaed searched her feelings and realised she felt no pity. She felt empathy that such a tragedy had occurred, but pity? Feeling sorry for Freydis would not help her. Forthright honesty would.
Chapter Ten
Torben observed his sister and Wynflaed as they took stock of each other. Freydis, his beautiful and once carefree sister, had hardened a tough outer shell he could not crack. Worst of all, most of the blame lay with him. She blamed him for not letting her choose a path she believed would lead to her happiness. Wynflaed, to her credit, had neither flinched nor shown any surprise at the scar or cold welcome. She simply returned Freydis’s greeting with a warm smile.
“I am pleased to meet you, Freydis. And no, I do not think it is ugly. It may not be sightly, but a scar is usually a sign of bravery or overcoming something that could have been more dire. And even with the scar, Freydis, you are truly the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.”
Freydis snorted in derision.
“I was. I can admit that vanity. Perhaps that is why the gods thought to punish me and take away my beauty.”
“I disagree, Freydis. God, or your gods, gives hardships to the strong, knowing they can overcome them. But it is clear I will need time to help you see what I see.” Wynflaed spoke plainly and firmly, brooking no argument.
“Why are you here?” Freydis asked, curiosity now entering her hard tone.
Torben was glad his instincts in pairing these two had been right. Wynflaed had handled the meeting exactly as he had hoped. Without any hubris, just honest words with no pity. And he knew his sister well enough to know Wynflaed had engaged her interest once he saw her posture relax.
“It would be best for Torben to explain, he only briefly shared his intentions when we arrived onshore,” Wynflaed told her, giving him a disgruntled look.
Torben’s brow lifted in surprise at her reaction, but he brushed it aside and answered the question.
“Wynflaed and three more of her people have come to make homes with us here in Klavik. If it pleases her, Wynflaed will assist you in taking care of things around here and be of company to you. I sense a kindred spirit and hope you two bring each other joy.”
Wynflaed nodded her approval and Freydis gave the slightest of nods as she continued to stare at Wynflaed with curiosity.
“I would very much like that, Freydis. I was a handmaiden back in Northumbria and have knowledge of how a manor or, in this instance, a settlement is run. I like the idea of putting things in order and I will need you to help me learn the ways of your people.”
Freydis shrugged. “I never cared for this role, and it is not like I shall ever marry.” She threw a hard pointed look at Torben. “So why not? Let us do it together.”
Torben sighed at Freydis’s petulance and gave a sad shake of his head.
“I think only of your safety and happiness, Freydis.”
Will she ever forgive me?
He turned to Wynflaed, who watched their exchange. No doubt she would have questions he was not prepared to answer.He clapped his hands loudly in an attempt to break the solemn mood.
“Come, Wynflaed. I will take you to the bathhouses.”
Torben was silent as he escorted Wynflaed to the bathhouses. It was still daylight, and he could see every emotion that flickered across her face. He knew that she had many questions for him and was surprised she held her tongue. As they approached the bathhouse, he saw her take in the sights of the settlement with wonderment and his excitement to show them to her grew. Differently sized huts, designed to fit single or multiple people, were positioned in a circle with a well in the middle. Bathing was often a social time for the men and the women.
“This is our bathing area,” he said, with a proud wave of his hand, “which is constructed atop natural hot water springs.”
He saw Wynflaed’s eyes light with pleasure at the idea of hot water.
“How wonderful, Torben,” she said, sighing with want.
“There is a stream through those trees but the structures are either bath or steam houses. If you want to bathe, go into a bathhouse where the water is kept warm by the enclosed building. The steam houses are filled with rocks that create a mist you can sit in and then you can go cool off in the stream.”
“Why are they all different sizes?” she asked, pointing to the huts.
“Some are for small groups, some women only, some men only and one room is filled with cloths and soaps. Here. I will gograb some if you want to go into that hut there.” He nudged her toward one of the smaller buildings.
