Midsummer, Part 1

Only Leif was present at breakfast. He explained that his father was busy reprimanding his brother, who had sneaked back from the mountain pasture while Erik was hunting the wolf that plagued the land.

When she had eaten, she fetched Fenris and rode across the plains, letting him bathe in the cool waters.

"So, you are the famed horse tamer?"
Startled, she turned to see Bjorn seated nearby, watching her.

"Are you the former owner?" She asked.

He rose and stepped closer. "I was deceived into buying him. By then, it was too late-he was utterly untamable."

"He was merely frightened. He is much better now."

"I can see that. He is the finest steed I have ever beheld," he said, his gaze steady upon her.

"I sought you, actually," she admitted, feeling warmth rise to her cheeks.

"And I sought you," he replied.

"I wished to thank you-for yesterday, and for holding your silence," she said shyly.

"There is no need for thanks," he replied, his eyes kind. "I merely wished to see that you were well."

"I am. So, you are kin to Erik Gustavson?"

"To his late wife. She was my aunt."

Her breath caught-she had never heard her mentioned nor dared ask.

"How long has it been since she passed?" She asked cautiously.

"She died when Leif was but a child, claimed by the wasting disease-he, too, carries it."

She was startled. "I did not know."

"Few do. But the medicines keep him strong. I am here to fetch more, by order of the king."

"Does Erik make them?" Her eyes widened in surprise.

He took her hand, his grip firm. "Come, I will show you."

Deeper into the forest, he knelt and plucked a small plant. "Do you know this?"

She shook her head.

"Bog mint. It grows in few places. Nearby are crowberry, cloudberry, heartflower, and birch bark. Together, they form a remedy for the wasting disease."

She had heard of the illness-terrible and unyielding."Is this why Erik guards the forest so fiercely?"

"Indeed. Many think him mad, but he is wiser than most." He responded with a laugh.

A harsh voice interrupted them. "So, you are well acquainted now!"
It was Ragnar.

She ignored him, her gaze still on Bjorn. "I had to thank the one who saved my life."

"May I speak to the lady in private?" Ragnar interjected, his voice sharp.

Bjørn stepped closer, blocking him. "I'm not sure she'll want to."

Ragnar sneered. "And why wouldn't she?"

Sigrid finally turned to face Ragnar, her voice cool. "It's fine. I can handle it." She grasped Bjørn's hand. "I don't know how to thank you."

Bjørn glanced down at her. "You owe me nothing."

Sigrid noticed Ragnar's jaw tighten, his anger growing as he watched them. When Bjørn turned to leave, Ragnar quickly moved toward her.

"Stop," she snapped. "Stay right there. After yesterday, you'll keep your distance from me."

"But it was just a joke, dear Sigrid," Ragnar protested, laughing nervously.

"A joke? It nearly cost me my life!"

"You're exaggerating," Ragnar muttered dismissively.

Sigrid's voice rose with frustration. "You could have ruined my reputation, Ragnar! Do you think my father-or my brothers-wouldn't have heard?"

Ragnar's expression faltered. "I had too much ale. Can you not forgive me?"

"No," she said flatly, turning to leave. But Ragnar stepped into her path, blocking her way.

"Do you know who I saw today?" Ragnar's voice lowered, a sly grin forming.

Sigrid stopped, uneasy.

"Your eldest brother," Ragnar said, his grin widening. "They're looking for you, Sigrid. Growing worried, I think. And perhaps they'd like to hear about that kiss." He made exaggerated kissing sounds.

Sigrid froze, anger rising. "You-" she stammered. "You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I?" Ragnar's grin became more dangerous. "Then stay clear of Bjørn."

They stared each other down for a tense moment, before Sigrid spoke, her voice calm but firm. "You're only making this worse."

She turned on her heel and stormed down the hillside to where Erik stood, holding Fenrir's reins.

"Sigrid! There you are."

"Sorry. I completely forgot about him."

"He hadn't wandered far.
I heard they found you in the water yesterday, Sigrid. What happened?"

"I'm afraid I don't remember," she lied.
"I think I was sleepwalking and possessed by the water spirit. It happened once before, when I was a little girl. Had it not been for my father, I would have drowned." The last part was true.

"Indeed," he replied, a suspicious look crossing his face-a clear sign that he did not have faith in her at all.
Even though most people believed in and respected the water spirit in these parts.

He was known for luring people in with beautiful music. Those who were captivated by the music were pulled underwater and never returned. At times, she had even caught herself wishing it would happen. To live beneath the water for all eternity didn't seem all that terrible.

"At least it was good that Bjørn was there," he added.

"Yes," she agreed.

"He is a fine man," he continued, "and... well, I hope Ragnar has behaved honorably in my absence."

"Exemplary," she replied, a bit loudly, turning to meet Ragnar's gaze, watching them from a distance.

"I must apologize for his behavior," Erik said, his discomfort evident, which made her uneasy as well. "He has carried much anger since his mother passed. They were very close."

"It's all right," she replied, taking the reins from him.

"One more thing, Sigrid. There shall be a Midsummer celebration here tomorrow. Perhaps it would be wise for you to remain hidden... in case anyone recognizes you, I mean."

Still seething with anger after her conversation with Ragnar, she was filled with a fearless resolve.
"No," she replied firmly. "I think it is time I faced my fears. They will find out I'm here one day, regardless. Unless... unless you mind, of course."

"I do not mind. I'll keep watch, and we'll know if anyone draws near to my lands. Indeed, it would be quite foolish to strike when the king's knight is here. I'll ask him to stay close by a little longer, until things settle."

"And what of the king?" She asked.

"The king owes me a few favors," he said with a grin.

●●●

She dressed in the finest gown she had brought with her-a red silk dress. She intended to be noticed. Thora braided her hair back from her face.

The smoke from the bonfire hung thick in the air, a dark, spiced blend of wood, earth, and a faintly sweet hint of fat. The old, stubborn logs creaked in the flames that glistened over the black water.

She held tightly to Thora's arm as they made their way down, where drunken revelers had already gathered around the fire towering over the plain. Music from lutes and flutes echoed across the high mountains.

"All eyes are on you," whispered Thora before she recognized the girls standing near the fire. "Come," she said, pulling Sigrid along with her.

"What are you doing here?" Asked one of the girls, her long, dark hair woven into a single braid. Sigrid recognized her from that day in the market. It was the girl who had braided her hair.

"There are rumors that you're both in a convent!"

"We've been here," Thora replied. "Sigrid is in hiding."

"With the enemy?" The girl burst out, sounding more impressed than shocked.

Sigrid caught Ragnar, standing just across from them. He looked utterly stunned at the sight of her, as though he were staring at someone who had returned from the dead. She smiled and gave him a polite curtsy.

"Are you flirting with Ragnar Erikson?" The same girl asked, surprised.

"No." She scoffed, as though she'd tasted something bitter. "I'm simply gloating a bit," she said, her eyes fixed on Ragnar. The sun-kissed skin he had stood in stark contrast to the loose white linen shirt he wore.

"Gloating?" Thora laughed.

"I'll fetch us something to drink," she said abruptly, catching sight of Ragnar heading straight for them. The realization sent a jolt through her, though she masked it with a swift, practiced smile.

Before Thora or anyone else could respond, she melted into the crowd, her heart racing with every step. Turning back for just a moment, she caught sight of Ragnar standing alone, as he scanned the throng, searching for her.

In her haste to disappear, she didn't watch where she was going and turned straight into a tall, well-dressed man. The collision sent her stumbling backward, and she landed on the ground with a thud.

"My apologies," the man said, smiling as he bent down to help her to her feet. "Are you all right? And, if I may ask, who are you?"

"Sigrid," she replied, flustered as she brushed herself off. "I'm sorry, but I must hurry."

She glanced over her shoulder at Ragnar, who was now talking to Thora and the other girls while fanatically searching the masses.

Without giving the man a chance to say more, she darted away, vanishing further down the meadow.

Bjørn sat upon a flat stone at the water's edge, his broad frame hunched slightly forward, one hand resting atop Balder's head as the dog lay contentedly in his lap. His gaze was fixed upon the horizon, lost in thought.

She approached quietly, her footsteps muffled by the damp earth.
"You've won him over, it seems," she remarked at last, her voice soft.

Bjørn turned his head, startled out of his reverie. His gray eyes met hers, their depths shadowed by something unspoken.

"He came to me," he replied, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Perhaps he senses that I mean him no harm."

She tilted her head, studying him for a moment. "He is not so easily impressed, and he does not take kindly to strangers."

"Then I am honored," he said simply, his hand absently stroking the dog's fur.

Sigrid moved closer and lowered herself to sit beside him, the hem of her gown brushing against the damp stones. "You've a way with creatures," she observed. "It is a rare gift."

Bjørn shrugged slightly. "I prefer their company to most men. Dogs do not judge, nor do they deceive."

"And people?" She asked, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "Do you truly think everyone is so terrible?"

He hesitated, as though weighing his words. "Not all," he admitted. "But many."

Her gaze drifted to the water, where faint ripples marred the surface. "Perhaps I am one of them, then."

Bjørn glanced at her sharply, his brow furrowed. "Why would you say such a thing?"

"I've been running, hiding, and deceiving those I love. What does that make me, if not a coward?"It felt good to say it out loud, the guilt that had weighed so heavily on her shoulders.

"A survivor," he said, his voice low but firm.

She turned to look at him, startled by the conviction in his tone. "My brother would have called me weak and selfish."

"You've your reasons," he continued. "Reasons that I am certain weigh heavily upon you. That does not make you weak, Sigrid. It makes you strong."

She turned away, her gaze falling to Balder, who shifted and rested his head against Bjørn's arm.

"And what of you?" She asked, changing the subject. "Do you not grow tired of your duties, serving the king?"

"It is not an easy life," he admitted, his expression darkening slightly.

Sigrid fell silent, pondering his words. She rose to her feet, wobbling slightly as the stones shifted beneath her. "Do you think I could escape you, were I to try?" She asked suddenly, a playful glint in her eyes.

Bjørn looked up at her, caught off guard by the change in her demeanor. He rose as well, towering over her. "I think not," he said with a faint smile.

She stepped closer, her gaze locked with his. "We shall see."

Before he could respond, she darted to the side, slipping beneath his arm and running with all the speed her legs could muster. Her laughter echoed across the lake as she glanced over her shoulder, only to find him in swift pursuit.

It was not long before his arms encircled her, lifting her effortlessly off the ground. She shrieked, struggling in vain against his grasp.

"Caught you," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "There is no escape now."

"Unhand me!" she demanded, though the laughter in her voice betrayed her.

"As you wish," he replied, setting her down gently.

She shot him a mock glare. "You fight unfairly."

"I fight to win," he countered, his grin widening.

"What are you two doing here!" Ragnar's voice thundered through the mountains.

●●●