Frida

Chapter 6 - He Will Not Harm You

Frida soon grew irritated by the fact that she did not understand the Norse language.

As soon as she had entered the great hall of the long wooden house, a humming murmuring had spread through the Norse crowd of men and women that stood around the fireplace at the center of the room, and she knew very well that the silent conversation regarded her presence. She immediately felt as if she was back on the boat again, with hundreds of eyes observing her every move. A sensation of being very much out-of-place had her heart beating heavily, afraid of what might happen to her.

She knew nothing of these people, their way of life, or their reaction to strangers.

That isn't really true though, she thought to herself as she let her eyes search the crowd for at least one familiar face, Their way of dealing with the Northumbrians was not necessarily open-minded.

Only just as she recognized Lagertha's white braided hair, a loud roaring broke out between the Norsemen, and Frida almost collapsed in surprise. Between the foreign words being shouted out, she recognized Ragnar's name, and she saw them all raise their drinking horns towards the back of the room where Ragnar had walked in, and she stared in wonder as he placed himself on a big wooden chair that was covered in soft furs, before too raising a drinking horn and smiling out over his people.

His people, she thought, and she frowned when she comprehended how lacking her respect towards him had been ever since they had met. However, she thought as the crowd's praising lowered, They haven't exactly treated me with much respect either.

She had been kidnapped, taken against her will, and now she found herself fearing for her future in this foreign land where she understood only a few people. Frida shyly tried to get a better look of Ragnar through the tall crowd, and she observed that on the stool next to him sat a couple of young white haired boys that were grinning at the many Norsemen before them.

She gulped down when she saw the fatherly affection in Ragnar's eyes when he looked at them, and it was not long before she recognized them to be his sons.

She felt pearls of sweat springing out on her forehead. The room was very heated, and there was very little air coming in through the narrow windows at the roof of the building. The smoke produced by the great fire in the middle of the room had her throat constricting achingly. When Ragnar finally rose to his feet to speak, the crowd silenced in respect.

Frida did unsurprisingly not understand a single word that he was saying, and her mind wandered back to the conversation that she had had not long ago with Ragnar's ex-wife Lagertha.

I wonder, she thought toherself, What reasons these Norsemen have for separating from their spouse?

Surely, any woman in the world would not want to run away from the role of being queen, and especially not with such a king at her side. He was very handsome indeed, Frida could not deny that, and she had observed how Lagertha's eyes looked to be full of pride when she cheered for her king in the crowd.

Suddenly, Lagertha's eyes met with hers, and Frida quickly tore her stare down at the ground before her. It was none of her business.

A slow male whisper sounded in her ear, and she inhaled quickly, when familiar English words reached her: "It is alright, he will not harm you."

She confusedly looked around to see an average heightened man with brown wavy hair stand behind her, his eyes smiling warmly at her, before she felt hands grab her arms and pull her forward. Frida was horrified when she understood that Ragnar had been talking about her, and she felt her blood rushing for her ears as she was pulled closer and closer to the king sitting on what probably was his throne.

A rush of excitement sounded through the crowd when Frida was pushed out in front of everybody, but when she looked up to see the many gazes on her, they were not all friendly. Actually, they all looked angered, and one man even spat on the ground before her.

She felt bewildered, incapable of moving, as fear had frozen her limbs and will to do anything. Ragnar's voice sounded right above her, and she could not help but to feel a slight pinch of relief when she felt his heavy hand on her shoulder. He continued speaking in Norse, and Frida closed her eyes, as she heard her name being pronounced several times.

He was deliberating her fate.

She made a nervous jump when he shifted to English, entertainment shining from his eyes when he asked: "Frida, I am not sure what to do about you."

He chuckled. She shivered.

"Your blood is Christian, but somehow your... soul?" Frida saw him exchanging a quick look with the English-speaking man in the crowd before continuing, "seems not like the rest of them. Like Athelstan here," he pointed at the English-speaker once more.

Frida furrowed her brows in confusion. She had no idea where Ragnar was going with this.

"Tell me, why did you mention one of our great gods back at the English church?"

She widened her eyes. She did not recall anything about pronouncing the name of any god.

She turned her head to let herself gaze into Ragnar's blue crystals that always had her feeling very warm and brave. Ragnar pulled back his hand from her shoulder, and lifted them up in the air with a wide grin on his face.

"Why!" he roared, "were you celebrating our god's work on our homecoming when you know nothing of him?"

Frida stared at her feet. A growing feeling started at the pit of her stomach.

She might have an idea of where Ragnar was going with his questions, however, she was as confused about it all as Ragnar. She remembered the warm feeling that had held up her courage in the church, and she too remembered the energetic pulse that had streamed through her blood on the boat, when the thunderous weather had roared about them. She just had no idea that the Norsemen connected these emotions to a god.

She cleared her throat before whispering: "Because I felt them..."

Ragnar sprang back to her side and leaned his ear closer to her mouth, dramatically.

The warm feeling spread through her blood once more, and she repeated her words even louder now: "Because I felt them!"

Ragnar laughed out and turned around to toast with a fellow Norseman. As he translated, Frida dared only to stare down at her feet. His Norse words sounded exhilarated and wild, and his speech had some of the villagers in the crowd shout out the word "Skål!"

Applauding and merry yelling made Frida finally turn her eyes up on the crowd before her, and she quickly felt arms wrapping around her, while Ragnar's soothing voice sounded in her ear: "Welcome to Kattegat."