Arcanum

Attack in the Night

Two weeks had passed since her mother's death. Agnethe's days were spent much as they had been before, caring the for the sheep in the pens and weaving cloth, except that her cousins felt it was also her duty to care for their every need as well. By moving into their home, she had become their personal servant. Not wanting to make living among them any harder than necessary, she obliged mostly. Gathering wood, starting fires, fetching water from the well and even mending clothes were not tasks beneath her or she didn't care to do. In some ways, they gave her breaks in the otherwise dull regularity of her life.

It was the nights she dreaded. As Agnethe suspected the first day she'd arrived, the bed the four girls was to share was far too small. Rather than make room for her, she was given the choice to sleep across the foot of the bed or make a place for herself out in the barn where the two cart horses were stabled. The second option seriously had her considering it until she learned that was where Trond had moved when he was too old to sleep amid his sisters any longer. Once she tried to make a nest for herself on the floor, only to be stepped on several times through the night when each cousin had made random trips to the privy. Resigning herself to accept the way things would be until her father returned, she learned to sleep on the narrowest edge of the bed so as not to be kicked as often, and face the wall so as not to smell the feet that were never washed before bed.

Normally she used the privy before getting settled for the night because if she didn't she would lose any hope of space on the bed. Exhausted and thoughtless, she had forgotten one night after a long day, falling asleep within minutes of dropping across the rustling cornhusk-filled mattress. Somewhere between the darkest part of the night and the early rays of dawn, she could wait no longer. Grabbing a shawl she headed outside to take care of her business knowing she would need to use the woolen garment for warmth when she finished the night on a bench in the main room. On her way back to the house the sound of heavy breathing ahead on the worn path, woke her fully from her half sleep state.

Before she could decide what to do, Trond stepped out from the corner to face her. Agnethe swallowed hard and clenched her hands to keep the shake in them from showing. Stepping closer to her, she could see his mouth turned up into a half grin in the moonlight. Glistening eyes shone as he moved forward into her personal space. The smell of ale and pipe smoke hung in the air.

"Were you looking for me? You've taken longer to come to me than I expected, but no worry we can be together now." His voice was low and held the hint of a growl. Not the angry kind, but worse.

"I'm not looking for you, let me pass so I can go back inside," she said with more bravado than her racing heart felt.

Agnethe wrapped the shawl tighter around her shoulders as he let his eyes roam first down to her feet and then back up to her face. Lingering where she held the shawl around her and then again on her mouth, licking his bottom lip before meeting her eyes with a sinister grin. Agnethe's mouth went dry, and she searched for anything within reach she could use as a weapon to defend herself.

Quicker than a cat, Trond lunged forward and grabbed a hold of her shoulders and pulled her hard to his chest, circling his arms around her back, pinning her arms between them. Slamming his mouth onto hers. When she tried to turn away, he slid a hand up and grabbed a hold of her hair, forcing his tongue into her mouth when she tried to scream. Using every ounce of her strength, she pushed her arms against his chest and stomped as hard as she could on his foot. Breaking free she turned and ran, but within seconds he caught her and tackled her to the ground, trapping her beneath him. Mud seeped into her shift and between her toes as she fought to scramble away.

"Get off of me," she screamed.

He held her tight and leaned his face next to her ear, "You will be mine, there is no use in fighting it. Although it makes it more exciting." He chuckled and a mixture of horseradish and onions in his breath made Agnethe gag.

"You're vile," Agnethe hissed as she continued to push and tried to pull herself out from under his weight.

Finally getting a foothold against a thick clump of grass she pushed and threw her head backwards at the same time, crashing her skull into his teeth and nose. Scrambling forward on her hands and feet like a bear, she managed to get close enough to the wood pile to grab a length of a cut sapling. She turned and swung her arm without aiming or caring, landing a blow against Trond's forearm as he reached out to grab her again. The force of the blow stopped his momentum, and he grabbed his wrist, spewing a list of foul words as he did. Agnethe used the opportunity of his distraction to swing again, contacting the back of his head this time. Trond crumpled to the ground groaning. Although she'd hit him hard, it was not enough to knock him out, so she ran as fast as she could back toward the house.

When she made it inside, she slammed the door closed and brought the rarely used wooden brace into its place, ensuring her safety for the moment. As she stumbled toward the back of the house, she was grateful that there was only one other door leading to the outside, and that was in her aunt's room.

He wouldn't dare come through there and wake up Bierka. Would he?

Plopping hard onto a bench, her entire body shook violently as she wrapped her arms around her middle and huddled over her knees. The shawl had been lost in her struggle and now she was cold, wet and terrified. Wiping at her face, mud smeared into her eye rather than away from it. The stench of Trond's foul breath still stung her nose, and she leaned sideways, emptying the contents of her stomach onto the ground. Twice more she hurled until there was nothing left and she sat up, shivering and numb. A bucket of well water sat on the other side of the cold hearth fire and she didn't think she could make her legs move to go rinse her mouth out.

The memory of his tongue in her mouth made her gag, forcing her to stumble over to the bucket and swallow ladleful after ladleful of water until the front of her shift was soaked and sticking to her. Two barrels sat next to the outside wall behind the bucket, a small amount of space between them. Agnethe squeezed her back between them, pulled her legs tight to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees. Freezing and too scared to sleep she huddled there staring at the door and waited until daylight when she could hopefully feel safe again.