Frida

Chapter 2 - Your God

It seemed like everyone in the church was frozen in place. Even the priest and the churchmen were so surprised by the sudden intrusion of their church that they did not move a muscle.

The villagers slowly started to be able to get a better look at their intruders, as their eyes grew accustomed to the sunlight.

Some began to cry while others started to move around, away from the huge men standing by the door. There were approximately twenty men or more, Frida was not sure as she could not see much from where she sat. But she could see that they all were clothed very differently than the villagers. Well, differently than anyone she had ever seen, actually.

They were all covered in leather and fur, and they carried beautifully painted round shields and weapons.

Weapons?

She suddenly realized the gravity of the situation.

These men were definitely not from around here, and their heavy artillery could only mean one thing. They were not here to make friends.

Her eyes soon connected with one of the tall men in the crowd, and a great shiver ran down her spine, as he squinted his eyes at her. He looked like the Devil himself, standing there in person, the tallest of them all, darkness circling his eyes and running down his cheeks. But she could not tear her eyes away from him, even if she tried.

His face twisted, and before long she realized that he was smiling at her. Devilishly.

She felt Lady Liofrun pulling at her arm, and it was not until then that she was finally able to look away, down on her Lady who was sitting down.

All the villagers had sat down except for Frida, and she quickly got down on the floor. One of the intruders stepped forward, causing all the villagers to back away even more. His eyes were hovering over the villagers, and a small curl on his lips made him look... Almost satisfied?

This man did not look as frightening as the devilish looking man, but Frida was not sure if that was even possible to do. He moved very smoothly forward, stealthily like a beast of prey, holding out a sword that was pointed at the priest who was still standing at the altar with the Holy Book in his shaking hands.

Frida felt Lady Liofrun crossing her chest, but she could not be bothered with praying right now, as her curiosity still had her clinging her eyes to the strangers.

"What, in the name of God, is the meaning of this?" quaked the priest in a very thin voice, slicing the thick silence that prevailed among them all.

The man moving forward curled his lips even more, and he looked back on his fellow warriors, causing the devil man to snigger as he made a small nervous jump where he stood.

The heavily braided man, she supposed he was their leader or best warrior, opened his mouth and spoke peculiar words. Frida guessed that it was a foreign language, but it was not long before she realized that they were actually English.

Heavily accented English.

"You call us Norsemen," the man said as he took another step forward while eyeing the priest over his blade still pointed at him, "Are you priest?"

Frida's thoughts raged. Norsemen? From the North? We're in the North, so what does he mean?She looked questioningly at Lady Liofrun, but she provided her with no answers. She only looked terrified.

Instead of answering the intruder, the priest started praying in rushed words. The man, whose hair was twisted on top of his head into a long talelike braiding, turned his head and spoke words that Frida easily recognized to be foreign, and whatever he said made the big men laugh out hoarsely.

Another giant stepped forward, and Frida exhaled deeply when she saw him pull up a villager of the crowd, Gotfried was his name, and quickly drew an axe to his throat.

"Treasure," the braided man said, "or death."

Half of the villagers screamed out in panic as Gotfried's throat was sliced right open, blood squirting out violently. Frida looked intently back at the priest, but to her dismay, he only continued praying now with his eyes closed.

She felt anger dwell in her stomach, as another man was pulled out of the crowd of villagers by a Norse, and she felt her hands twitch in irritation.

What is he doing? She thought, still eyeing the priest as if to communicate with him. God was not going to help them right now.

"Treasure," the man repeated louder, as if the priest had not heard him, "or death." The villager fell to the ground with his throat sliced open, gurgling, and Frida stared at him as the life left his eyes.

This has to stop!

The priest fell down to his knees and held his folded hands up for God to hear him as another villager was pulled from the crowd. Frida could not help herself anymore. If the priest was not going to help his fellow men, well, then she was.

"Stop!" she screamed out as she rose to her feet, untangling herself from Lady Liofrun's hands that tried to prevent her from interfering.

As all the Norsemen's eyes fell upon her, she quickly turned to the priest so that her courage would not fail her just yet.

"Your Lord will not help you right now," she gasped at the priest, who opened his tear filled eyes to look at her, "Can't you see that these men are not afraid of Him?"

Lady Liofrun started sobbing loudly, as the braided man laughed out heartily and turned around to face Frida. The devilish man murmured something, probably questioning what she had said, and she stared at him angrily when the heavily braided man translated. Their language sounded soft but awkward, as if they all had food in their mouth.

All the Norsemen laughed when hearing what Frida had said, and the devilishly looking man spat on Gotfried's lifeless body. It had her blood boil with anger.

She felt the braided man's eyes on her, but she only faced the priest, saying: "Please, give them whatever treasure they so eagerly wants before more innocent blood is spilled."

She tried to speak fast to prevent their braided leader from understanding. She saw the priest slowly shaking his head.

"Wait," said the foreign man, "come here, girl."

Frida looked down on her feet. Now, you're going to die.

Immediately, she felt a sudden warmth spreading through her body, a calm sensation dripping upon her heart and further down to her feet, forcing her to move forward to the terrifying Norseman. She could hear the villagers murmur silently between them, and she felt tears starting to wet her cheeks.

"You say 'your God'," the foreign man breathed inquiringly, "Is it not your God too?"

Frida closed her eyes, ready for her death. She had no answer to give him, because she did not know herself. She felt a giant hand clasp around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him. A hideous smell hit her nostrils. Blood, unwashed human and dirt had her stomach turning.

"What is your name?" the Norse asked as he put his arms around her, too close for any stranger behaving in any decent respect.

The warm sensation filled her face, and she slowly opened her eyes to look at his face. A couple of icy blue eyes pierced through her, through her soul and into an even deeper layer of herself that she never knew existed. Her legs suddenly gave up on her, and she fell to her knees, her eyes still interlocked with his. Time seemed to stand still, the world seemed to have died out as she felt his intense stare, and she exhaled deeply.

She only managed to whisper a single word before her entire body collapsed: "All-father..."