Ease The Dawn

Chapter 4

Not another word was spoken between Ivar and Aethelswith for six nights.

A bed had been built in the spot she sat, tied to the wooden pole, on her first day in the heathen camp. It consisted of packed straw beneath a fur, atop a wooden pallet. A wool blanket had been provided for cover but it was far too warm for the summer heat. Hardly going to complain, she was surprised that any thought had gone into a bed for her at all. She was grateful that she was not being forced to share his.

Two large meals were brought to her each day. Sitting cross-legged at the end of her bed, she mostly picked at the food with little appetite. She would not dare sit at the table, on the one stool, while eating.

They had little contact. Ivar rose early before dawn each morning, leaving immediately, and not returning until after dark. Aethelswith forced herself to sleep facing the canvas wall so when he would enter or lay in his bed, he could only see her back. Not knowing what might trigger his attention, she avoided not only eye contact but allowing him to see her face.

The slave girl introduced herself as Brana on the second night. Aethelswith nearly jumped off the bed when Brana spoke to her in English. There was no opportunity for her to ask the young woman questions as Brana shushed her and pointed toward the tent door indicating the guard on duty.

Brana, too, seemed always on duty, day and night as Ivar's personal thrall. Her demeanor struck Aethelswith as efficient and practical and invariably thick-skinned. Tall and lean like the Vikings, she looked strong from hard work. Her hair was sheered bluntly at her shoulders and was pulled back from her face in a handkerchief bonnet. The darkness of her brown hair was similar to so many in Wessex but her blue eyes indicated her northern heritage. They were a fascinating colour, the outer rim of the iris, so dark it looked black, inside a pale, icy blue. Those eyes plus the small mole above the corner of her mouth gave her otherwise neutral face a touch of femininity.

Aethelswith looked forward to those few moments throughout the day Brana would enter the tent. She would tend to her duties in silence, always casting her a flat, pinched smile before leaving. A gesture of encouragement, Aethelswith told herself.

Each day she was both grateful to be alive and unharmed, yet anxious and impatient for something to change...for something to happen. Anything. She pictured Alfred, anguished at home, surrounded by his council, strategizing for her return. And, without question, agonizing over the possible treatment by the Northmen. Her sweet brother had a sharp, intelligent mind, a deep sense of duty yet a sensitive heart and would be tormented by the weight of her capture. She, herself, having no way to gather information about her captivity was going insane. Concluding that idleness and isolation were nearly as torturous as a scourge to the skin.

On the morning of day five, Aethelswith whispered a request to Brana who frowned and shook her head no. Aethelswith silently mouthed the word please but Brana only turned and left. That night, when the evening meal was delivered, Brana passed the plate to Aethelswith along with a hard, sooty chunk of charcoal and a stern look of warning.

Once alone, she slid her bed away from the tent wall to reach the base of the canvas which provided a concealable space to sketch with the smuggled charcoal. Conserving the limited workspace and rationing the time spent creating small birds or toadstools, she was thrilled by this new activity. It beat braiding and unbraiding her dirty hair, or, attempting to visualize the faces attached to the foreign voices beyond the tent walls.

Each day as she roughed outlines on the textured material, her mind would drift again and again to Winchester. Was her isolation here truly that different than there? At home, she was surrounded by comfort and luxury and, of course, safe from Northmen. Yet still without company, aside from her servants, attending worship or the occasional meal with her brothers. She sighed wondering at what point her husband was informed of her capture.