Chapter Sixty-one

Enid studied him closely, her eyes unblinking as she watched him brush the sand from his palms. She wasn't sure, she still wasn't really sure about anything when it came to him, but it at least seemed fair, so she sighed, sitting up and grabbing her axe from beside her.

"Do you have to do anything before dinner?" she asked, and Erik turned to her, that smile on his lips, his eyes half-closing as he answered her.

"No."

She sighed again, hooking her axe on her belt and jerking her head towards the longhouse.

"Come on then," she said, and Erik stared at her, his head tilting to the side, that smile never wavering, but he only followed behind her without saying a word. She sighed again when they got to the doorway to their room, right before she spoke and everyone went quiet. "I brought Erik too," she said.

They all turned to stare at them, their eyes flicking between their faces before Tyr snapped, "No."

"Be nice, Tyr," Enid sighed, stepping into the room to wash her face in the pail.

"I can leave," Erik said.

"No, stay, Erik. You're teaching me to fight, it's only fair you get something out of it."

Erik walked up to the table, inching a chair out from under it and turning to grin at Enid as he sat. "I already get something out of it."

Tyr slammed his fist into the table, standing up and making to run at Erik.

"Tyr," Ivar warned.

So quickly the boy stopped, his eyes fixed on Erik's face, his hands still clenched into tight fists. So slowly he sat back down, his face scrunching up in a fierce scow and tutting as he did, and Erik laughed, his hands reaching up to cup the back of his head as he spoke.

"He has your temper, Deathless, no doubt about that. Do you want to be great, Tyr?"

"Get out-," Tyr started.

"You have to control it." Erik cut in, pointing a finger at Tyr's forehead. "You won't be great if you die in your first battle. It takes time. The gods need time to notice you, so you have to learn to control it. Make a great name for yourself and then give into your anger."

Enid watched Tyr as he glared at Erik, his chest heaving, and for a moment Enid thought he would spit something out as she watched that scowl on his face only grow deeper, but then he leaned back in his chair, his fists still clenched though he gave a quick, curt nod.

"Good," Erik smiled. "Your parents named you well. I see the god Tyr in you," Erik nodded. "But even he lost an arm in battle. Be careful you don't lose more before the time is right. You don't have an armring yet, do you?" he asked, and Tyr shook his head, those shoulders slowly sinking, that light in his eyes growing softer. "I'll talk to Knut," Erik said. "If Ivar agrees, of course."

Enid watched as Tyr turned to his father, the boy seeming to rise right out of his chair though he didn't move, but Enid didn't know what to think then. She wanted Ivar to say no, for him to let Tyr stay here and be safe with her for as long as possible, but she wanted Tyr to get what he wanted and be happy. Ivar pulled Frigga into his lap, bouncing her a few times on his leg before he nodded.

"He's too young for raids," he said.

"I agree," Erik nodded. "But I doubt there'll be raids this summer… but you've already thought of that, haven't you, Ivar?"

The two men stared at each other, neither of them blinking, neither of them saying a word for a long time.

"Why not?" Enid asked, coming to stand beside Ivar and watching Erik closely.

"We don't have the men," Erik shrugged. "We have to wait for them to grow up or make a deal with another Jarl. So… you should remind Knut of your deal when the time comes, Ivar. He won't be in a hurry to lose good men to you when we can sail west again."

"What are you doing, Erik?" Ivar asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, why are you helping me?"

"That's easy," Erik laughed, leaning forward in his chair. "I like this," he said, pointing his hand between Ivar's chest and his own. "And of course, I like Enid, but I understand you have first claim to her. Don't worry, Ivar, I'm not really trying to take her away from you. I meant what I said when I told you I wanted to be friends with you first. She's just… a friend herself."

Enid couldn't help it, she couldn't tear her eyes away from Erik as he sat there and smiled and smiled. She found herself wanting to shake her head, to laugh this away and to turn back time. She found herself believing that she'd let a snake into their home as Ivar leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on Erik's face, his fingers playing with Frigga's hands.

"I never heard anyone call a slave a friend before," Ivar said.

"We all know Enid is not just a slave," Erik answered. "Don't worry, I haven't told anyone. I figured there was a reason you've kept it a secret... and I kind of like that she can't say no when other people are around."

Enid saw how Ivar's eyes went dark and cold, how the corners of his lips twitched almost like he was fighting something back, and Erik laughed then, leaning back in his chair and dragging his palms across the table.

"I am a slave, Erik," Enid said.

"Of course, you are, Enid," Erik nodded. "That's why you call everyone master. That's why you have duties to perform and don't have your own shield and axe. You're just like all the other slaves. No…" he shook his head, pointing a finger at Ivar. "If your plan was to keep this secret, you should've seen this, Ivar, but," he flicked that finger away. "Lucky for you, everyone thinks Enid has to train with me because I want to sleep with her."

Enid felt the colour rising to her cheeks, her face going slack and that horror set in, and then she felt something else, something that burned, that stoked something hot and putrid all the way down in the pit of her stomach.

"Get out," she snapped, slamming her hand on the table, but Erik smiled, lifting his palms up in the air for only a moment before he pointed a finger at her.

"You need to hide it better," he said.

"I said get out, Erik."

"Master," Erik corrected. "That's what a slave would say and you're a slave, aren't you Enid?"

"Get-," Enid started.

"What do you want, Erik?" Ivar cut in, and Enid felt her shoulders dropping.

She found herself staring at Ivar's face as he watched Erik, the light in his eyes sharp and pointed. When she looked back at Erik she felt her heart racing and she found herself hating that smile and hating him.

"I don't want anything," Erik shook his head. "I just like things to be clear… Don't look at me like that, Enid, you can trust me, I won't tell anyone. I've helped you so far, haven't I?"

"Why, Erik?" she asked, and he smiled then, nodding and resting his elbows on the table.

"You're not from here," he said. "None of you are, not really, so," he shrugged. "You're pretty much the only ones I can trust."

Enid stared at him, not knowing what to say, not knowing what it was that she felt in that moment. Her insides were still burning. She still hated that smile on his face and she hated that she had trusted him. But still she found herself listening.

"You've been trying to figure it out, right?" he asked.