Chapter Eighty-three

Enid turned, watching Erik round the corner beside her and lean against the wall. "About Knut?" she asked.

"No," he shook his head. "Knut will be happy… My mother will worry, especially if she has a son."

"I'll talk to Hilda…" Enid whispered, turning to stare at the door.

"You can try," Erik sighed. "But I don't think it'll do much," he reached up, unfastening his cloak and handing it to Enid. "Have you heard anything?"

Enid shook her head, wrapping that cloak around her shoulders and sighing. "It's too loud."

"It is…" Erik sighed too, leaning against the wall and squeezing the bridge of his nose, and then he slid down the wall, sitting on a nearby barrel and rubbing his temples, his skin pale as he winced and his forehead lined in a deep crease.

"Are you alright, Erik?"

"Yes…" he sighed again, leaning against the wall and then he looked up at her. "It's just not easy for me around a lot of people. They're loud," he said, closing his eyes and tapping at the side of his head.

Enid looked around, seeing all those strange faces scattered throughout the village and hearing them laughing and shouting in the hall, and then she sat down beside him, wrapping her arms around her ankles and resting her head on her knees.

"What's it like?" she asked, and he looked at her, his eyes sharpening for a moment before he seemed to stare straight through her.

"It comes and goes," he said finally, "The longer I spend with someone the less I see. That's why it's hard with so many new people…" he sighed. "I don't see much, nothing like The Seer's prophecies or anything…

"With you," he said, lifting his finger and circling her face. "I see the sea, something deep and endless, like when you've been in a boat for a week and have almost forgotten what land looks like. It's the kind of sea that calls to me and my people," he said. "But it's also the type you get lost in and one that will drown you if you don't know how to find your way back," that hand dropped then, slapping against his leg as he stared back towards the door. "With Ivar I see Odin's ravens, Huginn and Muninn, on his shoulders. They're always speaking to him, always shaping his thoughts and his memories. That's why he sees so much and why he's always looking back…" he rested his head against the wall, tapping it a few times against the wood as he closed his eyes. "Freya shines like the god Baldur," he whispered. "Or like the sun… The sun that comes out in spring and brings life to the crops… but get too close and it will burn you like the strongest fire.

"That's why I know where she is," he said, tilting his head to look at Enid. "I always know where she is even if I close my eyes. That's why I can't look at her for too long…" he laughed then, a short, curt laugh that was more like a grunt. "Or maybe I should just to go blind and not have to deal with this anymore."

Enid stared at him a moment, something in her chest snapping, something like a sharp ache tearing through her heart. "What do you think it means?" she whispered.

"I don't know," Erik shook his head. "Nothing good…"

Enid lifted her head, her eyes narrowing into thin slits as she studied Erik. "In England we believe God's angels glow," she said. "They have halos of light around their heads that always shine."

Erik grunted, something like a wince, something like a frown creeping into his face. "What do you want me to say, Enid?" he whispered. "I don't know what it means and I don't want to. She's just a child. It'll be six, seven years before she grows up and… I don't have that much time."

"It sounds like you know what it means."

"I don't!" Erik snapped, his eyes suddenly flicking to her face, then sharp and dark. "I can't, Enid…" he whispered, his cheeks going slack and pale. "I have to marry Bodil. I know that here," he tapped at his head. "I can see that that's what the gods have planned for me… I just don't understand why they brought Freya to me now. Maybe it's just a joke and they're all laughing at me."

"I can't believe that, Erik," Enid shook her head. "That's too cruel."

"The gods can be cruel. They're like us. They get angry and play tricks on people they don't like… I have to marry Bodil," he nodded, his eyes closing as he rested his head against the wall. "And I have to wait to see what my fate is."

"Sounds like you're trying to find a way out already, Erik," said a voice, and both of them turned then, seeing Bodil standing there, her bright white cape almost shining in the darkness, a small smile curling at her lips.

"Not at all," Erik shook his head. "I believe fate has brought us together, Bodil."

Bodil stepped closer, her boots crunching in the snow, her eyes fixed on Erik's face. "Fate or my father?" she asked.

"They're the same thing," Erik shrugged. "We're all just doing what the gods have already decided we would."

Enid heard Bodil laugh then, a curt, quick laugh as she stared at Erik.

"I thought you'd given up on this slave."

Erik raised his eyebrows, his head tilting to the side before he sighed, standing and holding Bodil's hand in his own. "If you're going to marry me," he said. "Then you should know that sometimes the gods show me things. I don't always understand them and sometimes they're troubling. It helps me to talk about them," he nodded. "But I'm sorry. I should've come to you and I will from now on."

Bodil smiled then, a soft, warm smile as she nodded to Erik and Enid watched him wrap an arm around Bodil's shoulders, pulling her in closer and kissing her forehead. They were perfect together, the two of them so beautiful and looking more and more like their gods the longer they stood together, but Enid couldn't help it. Some part of her wanted to tear her eyes away from them. Some part of her wanted to hate them, to find them disgusting or even a reason to rip Erik away and a bigger part of her broke at the thought of Freya having to watch them get married.