Chapter Ten

The water was so cold it hurt just to touch it. Enid could see how the tips of her fingers had gone blue. She could feel how they had gone numb, how they somehow burned both hot and cold, but she was almost done. That pile of dirty clothes beside her was now almost finished, soon she would be able to go back and hang them by that warm fire. Tyr was still talking at her, chatting away as he fished, seemingly untouched by the biting cold of the water as he waded around and Enid sighed, sitting back on her heels and tossing the last undershirt into her basket.

"Tyr," she said, as she jerked her head back towards the farm.

He said something to her, smiling and pointing his spear at the water. She studied him for a moment, knowing what he meant but not knowing if she would listen. Then she shook her head, then she pointed at the clean clothes beside her and back at his own. He stared down at his tunic, smiling and shrugging before laughing to her.

"Tyr…" she said, folding her arms across her chest and eyeing him.

"I morgen," he said.

"Tyr," she warned again, pointing at his dirty tunic. He sighed, coming close and smiling at her from the bank of the river, but she saw it then, how it was not just his clothes and he was as filthy as Frigga had been the day before. "Come," she said, nodding her head towards the farm.

He sighed again, bending down to pick up her basket, now heavy with wet clothes, and handing his own to her. A while later and she had him at that basin, his eyes staring at the warm water almost like it was a punishment, but then he looked at her, sighing and reaching to take off his tunic. Enid froze, suddenly unsure if she should leave, suddenly unsure if it was right that she should be here at all, but he only stripped and threw himself in the water with a big splash. He laughed at her, flicking his hand in the water and making her clothes wet.

"Tyr…" she sighed.

"What?" he asked, as she grabbed the pail, drenching him with water that had not quite yet warmed through.

He gasped, turning to smile and splash her with water again, but this time she laughed, and then she knelt, running a comb through his hair as she'd done with Frigga the night before. His hair was much longer than how the boys wore it in her village and it was shaved on the sides just like his father's. They both pulled it back along the tops of their heads, binding it in thin leather straps or untidy braids. That was when she realised it, that many of the men who had raided her town had long, flowing hair and thick beards and maybe one day, Tyr would grow one too.

She almost laughed, a warmth in her stomach at the thought of him growing big and strong, but then she thought on what he would be doing when he did. He would go to her town, he would steal from their church and take their women, just like his father had before him.

Her hands went still and she wondered if she was truly doing the right thing or if she was only fooling herself. Could they change? Could saving the souls of these children stop them from hurting her own people or would they do so anyway?

That was when she saw it, Tyr standing there not spearing fish and laughing but drenched in blood and stashing a cross away in a pouch with an evil, twisted grin on his face. She knew then that she had to stop him. She couldn't let him grow up, be big and strong and kill just like the others. Her hands were reaching, reaching for his neck, reaching to push his head under the water and end this all now, but then she heard it, that soft noise, that little rumble in his chest as he slept.

So peacefully he laid there, so softly and slowly he breathed with a small smile still on his lips, and she had to stifle that sob building inside, that pain that welled up and stabbed at her chest. She couldn't do it, she couldn't kill him, not when he had been so kind, not when he was still so innocent.

"I'm sorry..." she whispered, reaching again, this time to run her fingers through his hair, to braid thick braids and tie them so he would be able to fish easier. "I'm sorry," she said again.

A little while later and Freya came in, her chest heaving, her face sweaty and streaked with mud. She said something to Tyr, speaking loudly to wake him, but the boy jumped up, racing through the room and grabbing fresh clothes like he had been awake the whole time. He said something, a big smile on his face as he threw on his clothes and darted from the room and Freya sighed, shaking her head and sitting down by the fire.

"Frigga?" Enid asked.

"Far," Freya answered, but there was that stiffness about her again as she studied Enid out of the corner of her eyes, her face was cold and stern, but then she sighed, pointing at the basin and then back to herself.

"You want to wash?" Enid asked, but Freya only stared at her, her eyes narrowing, her finger pointing again.

Enid nodded, putting another pail of water by the fire and draining some from the basin. It wasn't long before Freya was combing her braids out, running her fingers through her hair and sighing. She had bruises on her. Long, thick bruises, like she had been hit with something hard, and for a moment Enid couldn't breathe, for a moment she only saw Ivar standing over the girl and whipping her with his belt, but Freya seemed happy.

Her eyes were not swollen or red with tears. She only rolled her shoulders like she was stretching out her muscles after a hard day on the farm. Freya sighed again, sinking lower in the basin until only her eyes were above the water. Suddenly she was something else, something powerful, something dark and dangerous. Those eyes were so terrible, so cold and harsh just like the ones that had glared at Enid on the boat, and then Freya jumped up, sighing again and reaching for a cloth to wrap herself with.

"Mad," she said, pointing at the vegetables on the table. "Mad," she said again, jerking her head towards Enid.

"You want me to cook?" Enid asked, but Freya waved her hand at her before disappearing up the ladder to their loft.

Enid watched her go, her eyes darting between the ladder and the roots on the table and then she sighed. This day was never ending and at this point her days on a farm should have been numbered. She should be looking forward to moving into town and helping her husband run a shop and keeping his household.

How did she end up right back where she started?