Chapter Forty-seven

"My sister's still very young and she has a hard time with new faces. It'd be better for her if we could keep our slave with us while we are staying here," Freya said, and Enid felt the weight of those eyes falling on her, making her breath catch in her throat and her heart race even quicker.

A princess, never before had Enid actually seen one, never before had she actually thought she could meet one, and now she had, she didn't know what to do. She could only stand there, her hands clutching at the sides of her dress and her forehead furrowing in a slight crease, but the Princess' smile grew wider, dangerously close to turning into a grin.

"Of course," she said. "Whatever you need," she added, but then she paused. "She's one of the ones from England, right? What stories has she told you?"

Freya turned her head slightly, staring at Enid from the corner of her eye before she said, "You can ask her yourself, Princess Gro."

"Really?" the Princess asked, suddenly walking through the room and taking a seat at the table. "You speak our language?"

Enid didn't know what to do then, her eyes darting to Freya, her hands still clutching her dress. So quickly Freya went over to the woman, putting a cup and pouring some mead for the Princess before stepping back.

"Sit, please, both of you," Princess Gro smiled, pointing to the seats across from her, and Enid sat so slowly, her stomach on fire, her heart hammering in her throat.

"What would you like to know, Princess?" she asked, but Princess Gro laughed, a laugh that was light, a laugh that was warm as she leaned on her elbows.

"You have a funny accent," she said. "What's your name?"

"Enid, Princess."

"Enough with the princess," Gro waved her hand. "My father was a king, that doesn't make me great as well. Tell me, what did you do before you came here?" she asked, and Enid stared at her, her eyes growing wider, her shoulders rising and rising.

"My father's a farmer," she said. "I'm sorry, we didn't live that much differently than the farmer's here so I-,"

"There's nothing wrong with that," Gro laughed, lifting her cup to take a sip, and there was something about that smile, something about that light in her eyes that eased that tension in Enid's spine.

A princess, Enid, a poor farmer's daughter was sitting across the table from a princess, and she was everything Enid could have imagined, so soft, so warm and kind.

"Tell me, Enid, is Ivar like this at home as well?" Gro asked, and Enid stared at her then, not sure what to say, a rock suddenly sitting in her stomach.

"What do you mean, Prince-?" she cut herself off, and Gro laughed again, a laugh that was so light and easy that Enid found herself smiling too.

"Helga was always so sweet," she said. "So sweet and happy. I thought she would change him a little bit, but he seems the same as he always was."

"My father is a good man," Freya said, her voice deep and low, the light in her eyes cold and sharp.

"Oh, no! I didn't mean it like that," Gro shook her head. "He just seems so sad. I just wanted to know if there was anything I could do to help. Helga… Helga would've wanted me to do that."

Enid watched her, seeing that pain in Gro's eyes, seeing that sadness and for a moment she didn't know what to say and her heart broke over the sight of this woman and how deeply she cared so she cleared her throat, shaking her head and smiling.

"Don't worry," Enid said. "He's not always sad. He loves his children and they make him happy."

"Good!" Gro sighed, leaning back and pressing her cup to her cheek. "I'm glad to hear it. I think about you all on your own out there on that farm. I'm glad you're here. Knut will keep you safe through winter, don't worry about that," she smiled. "Oh, I brought these for you when I heard you were coming, Freya."

Gro waved her hand towards the doorway, clicking her fingers and smiling as a slave appeared. The woman was carrying a large crate, filled with bundles of coloured yarn, some of them shining and shimmering with coloured beads and small golden coins.

"They're from my brother's kingdom, you won't find them anywhere else in Norway," Gro said, holding one out for Freya to take. "The other women in town meet with me almost everyday to work the looms, you should join us."

Freya stared at that bundle in Gro's hands, her eyes big and wide but her body stiff. "I'm not very good," she shook her head. "I'd only ruin-,"

"Nonsense," Gro smiled. "We'll all help you and you should come too, Enid. I know they don't teach women to weave properly in England but every woman should know how to here. Do you know how to spin yarn?"

Enid looked at that yarn, nodding her head slightly. "Yes, but not like that," she said.

"Great," Gro laughed. "We can start from the beginning. If we work fast, we can make you a new dress for my son's wedding, Freya. Would you like that?" she asked, and Freya nodded slowly, her eyes still fixed on that yarn in Gro's hands, lingering on those shining golden coins. "Still…" Gro sighed. "I have a feeling my husband won't wait until the spring anymore. We might have to buy you some new cloth instead, but don't worry, I know all the best weavers. They won't be cheap… but Ivar can afford it," she smiled.