Pay the price | Eydís

New ships arriving. Something that would’ve made the younger Björn all enthusiastic. But the older Björn, the one that had to make sure Kattegat did not fell into the hands of Aslaug, the one that had to take care of his four brothers who were arguing eighty percent of the time, the one that was missing his father, even after all those years. No, not that Björn. Men were yelling, guiding the boats in the right place next to the docks. Björn was pacing over the wooden bridge, his weight made the material squeak in protest. He was looking left and right, to all the new merchants that had arrived. But his eyes went more over them, to the horizon where the only thing what he could see was the sea. His passion, his love, his life. All the things he had to give up because his father never showed his face again. People stepped aside when he passed by, some greeted him with a polite nod, others just looked away out of fear. And there was no blaming them. Björn was tall, almost to be called huge, and the glance on his face was not exactly to be called friendly. But who was there to blame him? Or to tell him that he had to smile a little more often? Exactly. Nobody.

He observed the merchants, with their ships all their new goods. Slowly but certain other viking warriors started to join Björn in and arount the docks, to make sure everything went according to plan. It wouldn’t be the first time that people thought violence was the solution to lower the prices. The merchants were unloading and eventually the workmen from Kattegat started to join them. Farmers, jewellers and dressmakers helping them unload the boats to make sure they were the first to have the best quality of the goods. He was only interested in what they had with them and where it came from. Not how much it costed. Björn took a deep breath, before he turned around and bumped into a little boy. The boy was carrying a basket full of fine fabric when he stumbled. The basket fell, rolled over the wooden dock only to fall into the shallow water from the shoreline. Exotic colored fabric filled the water and slowly started to sink. Björn sighed exhausted and clammed his jaws firmly on each other. Hasty the boy crawled back on his feet and looked at Björn with a terrified look on his face. ’Forgive me, Ironside.’ he stuttered and made preparation to drop himself in the water to catch the fabric. Björn grabbed his by his upper arm before he could jump off the dock, into the water. For a moment he stared the boy straight into the eyes. ’Stop.’ he muttered from between his lips without much articulation. The boy shivered, and Björn released his arm, only to jump into the water himself. Immediately his clothes were drenched, and so was his mood. But he couldn’t let the boy pay the price for something that was his fault, even though he was the Prince of Kattegat. So he started to collect the fabric that was floating in the water and threw it back on the dock, soaking wet. The thought of how Ivar would laugh when he saw him there, standing in the water from waist down, didn’t made all that any better.

The water was cold, but not unbearable. Björn was eagerly collecting the fabric in the water, ignoring the glances from the merchants and villagers that had come to a halt on the docks. But he didn’t look up, because it would not have made any difference. He was in the water already and he didn’t wanted someone to jump in also for a mistake he made on his own. But a few seconds after he heard the soft splashing of someone who was walking into the water from the shoreline. ’Oh, no, I’m so, so sorry.’ A slim, brunette girl was making her way through the water towards him. Next to him she was like a sprig, where he was an entire oak. Björn looked up from the water and turned his head towards her. With a questioning look in his eyes he observed her. ’My brother, he-he didn’t meant to. He can be so careless.’ And then Björn understood that she probably was the sister of the little boy that he had knocked over. Björn looked at the boy, at his brown hair and his speaking eyes. ’So can I.’ He said while looking at the brunette again. He softened the look in his eyes when he saw the expression on the girl’s face. Björn knew that he was feared, in a respective way. But the fact that he made some of them cry from only looking at him, that wasn’t something he had wanted. ’Easy.’ he said to the girl with a more soften undertone in his voice, trying to calm her down. Björn reached out for the last piece of silk and handed them to the little boy also.

When the basket was again filled with the fabric -wet this time- Björn paved his way through the water towards the dock. He put both his hands on the wood and lifted himself up. His weight made the wood squeak again, this time he was even heavier because of his drenched clothes. The little boy was still standing there, looking at him with the exact frightened glance in eyes as his sister had. ’Don’t worry.’ Björn said and rubbed briefly over his head. With a little hesitation he looked over his shoulder, to the girl that was still in the water. Eventually, he turned around, hunkered down and reached his arm out to her. Only thing she had to do was grab his wrist and he would pull her out of the water. ’Let me help you.’ Björn forced a little smile on his face as he waited patiently for her to accept his offer to help.

When he was reaching out for her, he saw the scared look on her face slowly fade away. His hand offered her safety and warmth, and so she accepted the offer she never thought to get. Björn closed his fingers around her hand, making it almost disappear completely. Agile he pulled her up, supporting her lower back with his other hand as soon as it came into reach. When she stood next to him on the dock, the difference between their bodies only became more striking. ’Thank you.’ she said and nodded politely. Björn didn’t answer, the only thing he did was looking at her, trying to guess where she came from since he had never seen her before. Or at least didn’t noticed. ’Go hang these out at Signý’s, but don’t let her see you.’ In a hurry the boy took off and Björn started to repeat the name he just heard in his head. Signý. Eventually he knew who she meant, thinking about the name in combination with the fabric. She was a dressmaker. ’If I can repay you somehow, please say so.’ For the first time he saw her putting a little smile on her face, and immediately she brightened up. ’You can.’ he said and lifted the corner of his mouth. He had some questions, he wanted to ask her. ’The colors..’ he turned his head, looked at her brother who had almost gotten out of sight. ’Where do these fabrics come from?’ Björn didn’t had the time to speak with the merchants yet, and the docks had almost become empty since everyone had started to divide through the kingdom.

A soft breeze started to fill the air, and he felt his wet clothes turn into a cold cocoon. He wasn’t cold, but there was a huge difference between the two of them. He was wearing leather mostly, what didn’t let the wind go through. But she was only wearing a thin, linen dress that was sticking half to her body. When Björn noticed, he frowned his forehead. ’Walk with me.’ he ordered her in a gentle way without telling her where they were going. Slowly he started to walk off the docks, straight towards the Manor of the village.

The girl might had expected something else, when Björn answered her question whether she could do something to repay him. But the only thing he did was asking her a question. About fabric, something he had hoped she would have enough knowledge of to tell him at least where it came from. The British Isles was the only thing she was able to tell him, something that disappointed Björn a little. But he couldn’t blame her, after all she wasn just a dressmaker, not a viking warrior. It was more the frustration that he wasn’t able to go on raids anymore that came to the surface. He just couldn’t leave Kattegat in the hands of Aslaug. Not yet.

Björn kept quiet, thinking about the British Isles that the girl had mentioned. It was when the wind started to blow harder and the girl almost shivered out her boots, he looked back at her again, realising that it was way too cold for her to still be outside. So he ordered her to follow him, since he still had some questions for her left. ’Wh- Where are we going?’ she asked almost immediately when Björn started to walk forward. He looked over his shoulder, gesturing her with his finger to keep up. ’My home.’ he answered honest and kept walking forward. Björn called it his home, but it hadn't felt the same since both his father and mother weren't there anymore. Just like Kattegat wasn't the same anymore.

The wooden doors creaked open and an empty great hall greeted them. The smell of burning firewood drifted towards them, just as the warmth itself. Björn held open the door for her, closing it again when she was inside. ’Welcome.’ he then said to the brunette that was still shivering. His voice sounded more open and enthusiastic than it had done in public. Björn stood in front of the fire that was burning in the middle of the great hall, holding the palm of his hands towards it. At the same time he was looking at her, while she was still standing nearby the door, as if she had frozen. ’Come.’ he said and gestured with his head towards the fire. ’I don’t want you to get sick. Because then I would have to repay you again.’ a friendly smile cheered up his normally frowned face. Björn looked at the dress she was wearing, still drenched and sticking to her body like it had shrunken. ’Maybe..’ he said, thinking carefully about his words. ’We can let your clothes dry while we talk.’ Björn saw how anxious she was, and didn’t wanted to make her feel more uncomfortable than she already was. ’There are still some old dresses from my mother here. You can borrow one of those.’ It were dresses that Lagertha had worn for formalities, but hadn’t take with her to Hedeby. Björn couldn’t get it over his heart to throw them away, because that would be the same as throwing away the memory that his mother once sat on the throne Aslaug was now sitting on. He was still looking at the girl, trying to soften the glance in his eyes.

Björn tried to ignore the shy and uncertain glances that were to read on her face. He knew that he left a great impression to people, especially girls like her. But there wasn’t a reason to be afraid, not when you had done nothing wrong. He wasn’t like his brothers, or other Vikings, Björn lived according to a different code. There was no denying she was a pleasure to look at, and he was just a man so he wouldn’t answer for what his eyes wanted to see. But there was a difference between looking and acting. And that second part was not something that interested him. Not at that moment. So without any further explanation he guided her towards his home, knowing that she would finally realise herself that he didn’t had taken her with bad intentions.

Once inside, he saw her body language change. The warmth and the cosiness the great hall possessed made her feel more at ease. Björn stood by the fire when she told him that the surroundings were very beautiful. ’Have you never been here before?’ he asked her, frowning his forehead in a questioning way. ’The feasts?’ The girl came walking towards him, accepting his suggestion to let her clothes dry. ’I’d appreciate it.’ she answered, and with that she started to look around. ’Is there any place I could take this off?’ Björn had expected her question and pulled the corner of his mouth upwards. ’Come.’ he said her with a calm tone in his voice.

He walked with her to his own room. It was in the same style as the great hall was, only much smaller with a lower ceiling and a big bed in the middle. There was fur everywhere, from animals that he had caught and skinned. Björn stepped inside and walked to a big chest that was full of dust. With a cracking sound it opened and revealed a pile of dresses that were once Lagertha’s. Björn stared at the beautifully finished dresses, but didn’t know what to pick. ’Maybe you can pick one yourself.’ he said while looking over his shoulder to the girl in his room. Letting Björn pick a dress was the same as sending her on a raid: They both wouldn’t know what to do or where to start. He stood up again and started to walk to the door of his room, making preparation to leave. ’Meet me by the fire when you are finished.’ he said her with a little nod and gave her some privacy.

He had made it himself comfortable. Björn was sitting on a wooden seat, covered with so much fur that he didn’t felt a single hard piece from the wood. In his hand he was holding a cup of ale, brought by one of the servants. On the other side of the fire there was standing the same, fur seat as he was sitting in. On the arm hold there was already standing a second cup of ale for the girl that he didn’t even knew the name of.

It was a strange thing for Björn, hearing that she had never been quite familiar with the great hall. It was the centre of Kattegat, a place for feasts but also serious matters. For a moment it felt like he didn’t knew the villagers of Kattegat at all. ’A long time ago. My father won’t really let me go to the feasts anymore.’ The last word played with his mind. Anymore. So there had been a time? Björn observed her, saw that she obviously didn’t wanted to talk about it. Nor did he, really. So he respected her choice to stay quiet about it, and guided her towards his room to show her his mother’s dresses. ’Your mother has a great taste.’ the girl said when she almost dived into the chest with dresses from the most expensive and rare fabric. They were just lying there, waiting for moths and time to devour them. So at a certain level Björn was happy, that he was able to give the dresses a new purpose.

Björn was already drinking his ale when the girl appeared in the great hall again, this time dresses with one of his mothers dresses. He fixated his eyes on her as she entered, placing the cup to his mouth again. ’How do I look?’ she asked with a shy smile on her face. Björn didn’t knew how to respond, so stared at her for a moment with a questioning look in his eyes. Nobody had ever asked him that question before. But he didn’t wanted to offend her, because in fact she looked astonishing. ’Ready to attend a feast.’ he said with a polite nod and drank again, preventing himself from having to speak. After a few moments he stopped staring at her and gestured at the seat that was on the other side of the fire. ’Take place. Have a drink.’ he offered her and moved his shoulders from left to right to make it himself more comfortable in the pile of fur he was sitting on. Björn watched all the careful steps she was taking. She was so fragile, as if she would break in half when he even laid a finger on her. Björn raised his cup in the air, expecting her to do the same. ’Sköll.’ he said with a deep voice and took another sip. ’You might be wondering why I have brought you here?’ He said and tilted his head sideward, looking towards her from over the fire.

The girl thanked him for the hospitality he offered her. And by that, he realised that he didn’t knew her name yet. ’Not that hospitable it seems, since I still don’t know your name.’ again, he placed the cup on his lips and took another sip while waiting for her answer. The girl was warming her hands by the flames, Björn gazed one more time at how the dress of his mother gracefully fell over her body. He had never known, since they way he looked at his mother, was a lot different from the way he was looking at the girl in front of him. But the look in his eyes nor his attitude spoke evil. The way the girl settles herself in the chair and raised her cup of ale also made clear that she didn’t felt uncomfortable. Not at all, he could tell by looking at the childish amused look in her dark eyes.

’I am wondering now.’ she responded to Björn. He smiled gently, understanding that she hadn’t knew that he had took her to the mansion for another reason than warmth and dry clothes. Björn respected the people from the village, the ones that weren’t highborn as he was. But he didn’t have the compassion to take every single person he stumbled upon to the mansion and offering them the hospitality that he was offering the girl. No, he only did that when he needed something, when he had questions that needed an answer. ’I want you to enlighten me about a few things.’ Björn replaced himself in the chair and looked at the fire while talking. ’You are using imported fabrics, gained from raids or bought from merchants who visit Kattegat. But I know the raids also provide books from other villages with..’ For a moment he closed his eyes and thought about the correct word since he wasn’t familiar with it. ’..sketches, sewing.. patterns? From the clothes they are wearing there.’ He looked at the girl, waiting for confirmation about what he just had said. ’Do you have possession of such books?’ He asked curiously and looked back at the flames.

It wasn’t hard to tell that the girl, who introduced herself as Eydís, was surprised by the question Björn asked her. Her dark brown, almost blackish eyebrows frowned while she thought about a suitable answer. Björn knew that the lower ranked villagers would always try to give a correct answer, and that there were many who would rather tell a pleasing lie than the hurtful truth. But Björn hated hearing answers only to please him. He wanted the truth, didn’t care if it would please him or not. The eyes of Eydís found his, and Björn looked at her with a glance in his eyes that would make it very hard to look back away. He held her eyes captive in his, almost pulling the answer from her. But except for his eyes, there was not a single sign of impatience on his body. He was leaning backwards in his chair, with his cup of ale relaxed in the palm of his hands. But his eyes.. his eyes always told the truth. Eydís started to tell him about her mentor, the old seamstress, and that the woman may have possession of the books that Björn was looking for. ”She doesn’t just let me take them, though, but I think she would give them to you.” Björn nodded in an understanding way and took a sip from his ale. ”She also has other kinds of books, although I can’t read their writing.” With those words he frowned his eyebrows. She had caught his attention, not only by mentioning the other books, but also about the vagueness of her reading skills. ”But you can read?” He asked then rather surprised. As soon as he finished his cup of ale he placed it on the floor and pressed himself straight up. Björn stretched his back and leaned forward, warming the palm of his hands nearby the flames.