Chapter 3
Freydis
That evening of our guests' visit, the King hosted a small feast for them. Mead and ale flowed freely, and the sound of drums echoed in the hall.
"Where are your thralls?" one of Ragnar's men asked. "Bring us more mead!"
Silence fell on the hall, and I stiffened where I sat beside my father. The Queen refused to attend the feast and instead stayed in her room.
"We no longer keep thralls," Father said.
I remembered the day the King called everyone and told us that it was a sin to keep someone against their will as a slave, so he was going to set the thralls free. Some of the thralls were very happy because they had been kidnapped from neighbouring villages during raids. But some had grown close to us and didn't want to depart—like my thrall, Siggy, who has been with me since I was fifteen; she refused to leave.
"Why?"
"Ever since we turned to Christ, the buying and selling of thralls has been forbidden in Fellur. The thralls' market has been burned to the ground. Any man caught trading people in our land would face our punishment."
Ragnar's jaw clenched. His men exchanged glances.
"By the gods, what madness do you speak? We need thralls to tend to our tasks."
"We freed them years ago. Those who wished to stay were offered shelter and coin. Now we hire servant girls and boys. They're paid for their work and free to leave anytime."
"Even some Christian men keep their slaves in the South."
"They would answer to the Lord on judgment day, but the purchase of thralls will not be allowed here in my land," the King said.
After some time, I decided to step outside. I walked out of the hall, sat down in the courtyard, and stared at the full moon.
Just then, I heard footsteps approaching, and when I turned around, I saw Ragnar with a skin of mead or ale.
He walked towards the bench and sat down next to me.
"Care for a taste?" he asked, pouring mead into the horn.
Ragnar had brought mead from the North. And though I wanted to have a taste of his mead, I shook my head. I already had enough; drinking more than this would make me drunk.
"Nay. The mead I drank is enough. Too much would be a sin."
"Sin?" he asked.
I stared at him, wondering what was so shocking in what I said.
"I would not often interrupt, but I see no sin in this. Your father held a feast to mark our coming. You should celebrate with us."
"You don't have a say in how we live our life here. Our customs are not the same."
A small frown tugged at his lips. "Do ye have no say in your own fate?"
"Why would you say such a thing? Of course we're allowed to do things, but only in the way of the Lord."
"And if you sin, what shall befall you?" he asked.
"If you sin, you'll ask for forgiveness from the Lord. You'll repent and turn away from your old ways."
"Repenting from?"
I slowly lowered my head. For a moment, I was silent, thinking about what Ragnar had just said. I remembered all the times I would visit the church every week to pray, even though I hadn't sinned—just because of what I carry.
"Sometimes the devil gets hold of us, and we do things that aren't right with the Lord."
"Only when a man insults his god does he seek his god's mercy," he said. If Ragnar were saying this to the Queen, she would have flared up and thought the Devil had a hold on him.
"You're wrong," I raised my head. "Very wrong."
"Speak then, what sin did you commit to crave your Lord's forgiveness?"
"I was born with a mark on my lower back," I said. "My mother says that mark belongs to the Devil, so I ought to fast and pray every day for God to take that mark away from me."
The day I realized the mark I carried wasn't a birthmark but was the Devil's mark, I had grown very worried. Luckily for me, it was on my back, so it was easy to hide from everyone.
"Devil's mark?"
"That's what it's called," I said. "Many have been killed because of the mark."
"A few weeks ago, a girl with the mark was possessed by the Devil, and she did some very terrible things." Though the King and Queen don't know that I bear the mark, I was shaken with cold when I realized that soon enough I would be exposed to everyone. What would happen then? Would they burn me like everyone else?
"What deeds?"
"She called upon the old gods and killed innocent people," I said. "Mother says she was a witch and she was burned in the village centre."
"I know... I know it's a sin for the thoughts I have, but I would do anything to be free from this mark. Sometimes, I'm able to heal people, and for a moment, I think it's a gift from God. Then I'm reminded that it's the Devil's mark."
"Do the King and Queen know about this?"
"Nay," she shook her head. "They would take me to the Church. Please don't tell them."
"Nay," he shook his head. "No one shall know. Your secret stays with me, Freyja."
"Why do you call me Freyja?"
He smiled. "Because you remind me of someone from the past."