Chapter Seventy-one

"More, 'Nig!" Frigga leaned closer, her little mouth open as she waited for another spoon of stew.

"Enid," Enid corrected.

"'Nig!" Frigga smiled, and Enid laughed, wiping the girl's chin with a cloth and feeding her another spoonful, but then she heard a shuffling of feet and she turned to see Princess Gro stepping out from behind the throne, her cheeks bright red and tears in her eyes.

"Gro…?" Enid whispered, but Little Frigga jumped from the table, catching Enid suddenly by the arm and grabbing onto the front of Enid's dress. "Careful, Frigga," Enid gasped, reaching for that bowl of stew and making sure it didn't follow in Frigga's footsteps.

"She's sweet…" Gro whispered, and Enid turned back to her, watching her wipe the tears from her cheeks and shake her head.

"Are you-?"

"I'm fine," Gro smiled. "Don't worry about me, Enid, you have enough troubles with this little one here."

Enid rubbed Frigga's back, staring at the woman and wanting so desperately to help her, and then Gro laughed, coming to cup Enid's cheek and smiling softly.

"I hope my son didn't hurt you," she said.

"He didn't!" Enid shouted. "Erik is always kind to me… in his own way," she said a little softer.

"I'm glad," Gro sighed, sitting beside Enid and holding her hand. "For the both of you. Erik doesn't always get along with people. He…" she cut herself off, almost like she wasn't sure if she should continue, almost like she was afraid to. "Boys need their fathers," she said then, her eyes dropping as she squeezed Enid's hand. "I don't think he ever forgave me for taking him away from his."

Enid shook her head then, wanting so desperately to wash that pain from the Princess' face. "He has Knut," she whispered.

"Knut is not his father," Gro snapped, but then she sighed. "Thank the gods… Men are not like us, Enid. Their love has conditions and those conditions are always changing. Knut loves Erik like a son, that's true, but… Erik is useful to him. I don't know what would happen if he wasn't…"

Enid felt it then, that burning pit in her stomach, that one that told her to drive a knife through Knut's heart the next time she saw him. If he did something to Erik, Gro would lose her son, Freya's heart would be broken and Enid… Enid would lose the only friend she had outside of the family. She shook her head, trying to fight back those tears, trying to uncurl her fists and breathe.

"You have to leave him, Gro," Enid whispered, and Gro smiled again, a smile that was soft, a small that was heavy and sad.

"I will," she said. "When my children are grown and they don't need me anymore," she pulled away then, staring off towards the firepit with eyes that didn't see. "Then I'll go to the interior," she whispered. "I'll have a farm and live by myself and my children can come and visit me with their own families and we'll all be happy."

Those tears that fell from Gro's eyes then stayed with Enid, lingering on her mind still many days later, when the air was crisp and the sea had begun to turn to ice. Enid stared at it, watching the men hack their boats free with big pickaxes and laughing and talking like there was nothing strange about it.

"What about this one?" Freya asked, pulling on Enid's sleeve to grab her attention and Enid smiled, lifting Frigga higher on her hip and holding the fabric up to Freya's shoulder.

"It's lovely, Freya," she said.

"Do you think Erik would like it?" Freya asked, and Enid's smile wavered, her insides shivering in a quick jolt before she shook her head and smiled again.

"I think it's important that you like it," Enid answered. "You'll be the one wearing it and besides," she said, putting the cloth back down on the stall. "It won't work unless you're happy in it. Men like happiness more than they like dresses."

Freya grinned then, her hand going out to point at a different fabric, her eyes bright and light as she said, "Then I want that one."

Enid looked at it, her eyes lingering on the cream coloured layers and the rows of tiny, golden coins laced throughout it.

"That one is more expensive," the stall owner said, his eyebrows furrowing together as he studied the girl.

"Ivar can afford it," Freya beamed, and the man looked at her one last time, his eyes following Freya's hand wriggling under her cloak until she pulled out a large, gold coin.

Enid stared at it, something like a shiver, something like a bolt of lightning jolting down her spine, all because that coin had the portrait of her king on it.

"Where did you get that?" Enid asked.

"Ivar," Freya shrugged, handing the coin over to the stall owner and watching him as he wrapped her cloth up in another. "Where's my change?"

The man eyed her for a moment, tutting as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver coin and Freya caught it when he tossed it, a bright smile springing to her lips, her eyes closing as she said, "May the gods keep you."

Enid reached for the bundle of Freya's cloth, grabbing it by the twine he had tied it with and chasing after the girl. "Freya!" she shouted, her chest heaving when she'd finally caught up. "That was an English coin."

"Of course, it was," Freya laughed. "What? You didn't think that you were the only thing my father brought back from England, did you?" she laughed again. "Ivar is a good warrior, Enid, and we don't really have many expenses back on the farm… Actually, sometimes I wonder how much gold he has stashed in his hoard… Anyway, we should get you a cloak while we're at it, that one is falling apart."

"I don't need a new cloak," Enid shook her head, but Freya stopped, that smile slipping from her lips as she stared Enid straight in the eyes.

"It's only going to get colder," she said, and Enid looked at her a moment, not knowing what to say, not sure that she could spend Ivar's money as easily as Freya could.

A gold coin, Enid had only ever seen a few of them at church when the priests had been collecting for worship. Her father had only ever had coppers, maybe a few silver if they'd had a good harvest and Freya said that Ivar had more. Enid didn't know what to think then, not understanding why they lived out in that small farm, with dirt flooring and the animals bundled in with them at night, and then she laughed, a quick, airy laugh that was more like a sigh.

They lived like that because of Ivar.

"Will you help me choose?" Enid asked.

Freya smiled then, a big, fat smile like they had just decided to play a trick on her brother.