More laughter from the group.
“A duel?” says Sifrid. “Ausveig will eat you alive.”
“With thyme, I hope,” I say. “To mask the taste of insolence.”
We are all smiling. There’s a light mood in the air. The sun shines. We’re eating meat. The men are out. How could the morning possibly get any better? Eidunn looks up at me, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“Ausveig would eat you alive, if Thyra doesn’t butcher you first.”
“Wow,” says one girl.
“Brutal, Eidunn,” says another.
Many laugh, me included. I have to. If I display any worry over treatment from Thyra, I’m afraid I will be the prime suspect in the strawberry theft. I brush it off.
“Make sure I’m slapped into a soup, Eidunn,” I reply with a grin. I’m happy she jokes with us. She has been somber since I arrived, weighed down by some secret. I’m sure of it.
“Oh yeah, I’ve seen how much you love those, Kilda,” she replies smiling. “How many bowls did you eat last nigh?—”
The door swings open violently, slamming into the wall. Women are startled, turning to the sudden intrusion. My heart sinks.
Thyra enters, an avatar of rage. Red-faced. Her power amplified by her size. Even while fearing what’s coming, I can’t help but think of a Valkyrie, charging into battle. All the ladies stand, including me, as is expected from slaves when a noble enters. We stare down at the table submissively.
“Kilda, you thief,” she screams. “Where were you last night?”
I keep my eyes on the table, not wanting to challenge her position with eye contact. The worst possible outcome. That fucking skald. Bastard.
“My lady?” I respond.
“Answer me!”
“I was sleeping, resting for today’s scrubbing of the hall,” I lie.
“Liar!” she shouts. “It wasn’t enough stealing berries in front of my daughters? You needed to eat a quarter of our strawberry fields too?”
My skin crawls at the public accusation. It’s the last thing I need. The girls around me keep their eyes low. My voice rises in pitch.
“Strawberries, my lady? I don’t?—”
“You are so comfortable lying,” she growls. “I wonder what else you lie about.”
She’s right, I find it too easy to lie. Asbjorn’s warning is already forgotten. I raise my gaze to her face, making my eyes as innocent as possible. A trick that works on men, but on Thyra, I doubt it will have the desired effect. The woman is frothing at the mouth, red as the strawberries I am lying about.
“Lady Thyra, I?—”
“Silence, you insolent little bitch,” she hisses, raising her finger. I lower my gaze again. Insolent really is the word of theday. “I’m starting to wonder about these curses you speak of, this inscription you’ve found.”
“Please, my lad?—”
“Strange how it all began when you arrived.”
The strawberries, that’s fine. Her accusation is acceptable. She is right, after all, even if I deny it. But cursing the farm? How could she possibly be pointing the finger at me for that?
“Madness, why would I?—”
“Silence!” she screams at the top of her lungs. Some of the girls flinch at the escalation in volume. “Know your place, girl! You sit at the thrall table. No other slave girl has ever been so disrespectful.”
“Forgive me, Lady Thy?—”
