Chapter Twenty-seven

All day long, those words echoed in her mind. Little Frigga, there was no way Enid could let her life amount to that. And yet, there was something in those words that rang true, that told her Freya had thought this through and now Enid had to decide which one to protect. Each decision left her betraying someone, no answer felt right all the way down to her bones, but it was the thought of Frigga in those giants' arms, of her crying and crying and no one able to save her, that was the weight that Enid's heart couldn't lift. She would have to trust Freya, trust that this girl was right and they would all make it out of this together, so Enid sighed, drying the last of the bowls with a cloth and placing it with the others.

"Tyr…!" she found herself calling, but then her chest sank and she prayed that he would just come home, but that also wouldn't be enough.

She wanted Tyr home as himself, as the boy who smiled and the boy who was warm. She didn't want him to come back a ghost of himself, cold and hard and rigid, just like Ivar.

"Enid, want to go fishing?" Freya shouted.

"You think it's safe?" Enid asked, rounding the corner from the backroom and hanging the cloth by the fire.

"Safe enough," Freya nodded. "And we can't just sit around here until they get back."

Enid stared at her, wanting so desperately to feel that sense of ease that Freya did, wanting to smile and bounce Frigga on her hip and to not feel like she was drowning.

"I'll get my cloak," she said, and before long they were walking down the path to the river, watching as Frigga ran ahead and chased the leaves in the wind.

It was so strange to be with them, like nothing was happening and yet something was missing, something that grounded them all and kept the earth under their feet.

"Oh!" Freya yelped, when she stepped into the water. "It's so much colder already!" she gasped, and Enid laughed, watching the girl lift her skirts and hitch them around belt, but then Freya rounded on her. "You too," she said.

"No way," Enid shook her head. "I'll stay here with Frigga."

"Frigga's coming in too," Freya said, and Enid looked then, watching Frigga try to pry off her boots and follow her sister.

"No," Enid shook her head, bending down to pick Frigga up. "It's too cold, Freya, she'll get sick."

"No, down!" Frigga said, pressing on Enid's chest and trying to wriggle free.

Freya laughed, pointing her fishing spear at Enid and asking, "What are you going to do in the winter, Enid? It gets much colder than this."

"Then we won't have fish."

"What if there's nothing else to eat?" Freya asked, and Enid stared at her, not knowing what to say.

"Ivar can go hunting," she shrugged, and Freya laughed again, her hand reaching up to cover her lips.

"Sometimes I miss the old you," she said, "You used to listen a lot more when you first came here."

Enid was left staring as the girl turned around, wading out into deeper water in search of fish. Had she really changed that much since meeting them? Some part of her felt sad, almost frightened at the thought, some part of her was almost excited.

"Do you still want to be a rich wife?" Freya asked, before thrusting her spear through the water and Enid shrugged.

"I don't know."

"What did he do anyway?"

"Cormac?" Enid asked. "He was…" she paused, thinking on the word for a moment. "He made things with metal."

"Oh, then you would have been rich." Freya nodded. "I'm going to make my own money, like my Aunt Hilda."

"She makes her own money?"

"Yes, on the raids." Freya said. "My Aunt is a famous shieldmaiden, didn't Tyr tell you? She has her own farm not too far from ours."

Enid couldn't picture it, a woman living on her own out in this cold, harsh country, surviving and owning her own land. What had Enid owned in her lifetime, her clothes maybe, that wooden cross she used to wear around her neck. She owned nothing that hadn't been given to her, nothing that she'd earned in her own right or that couldn't be taken from her just as easily. She felt that burn tickling her heart, that lifted and frightened her all at once. Was such a thing truly possible? Could she really own something that was all to herself?

"What about her husband?" Enid asked.

"They lived on the farm with her, but they all left whenever they got divorced."

"They?!"

"She's had a few husbands," Freya shrugged. "But she never really kept one for long."

Enid stared at her, her eyes big and wide, something more like a chilled horror gripping her heart then. "What about their vows?" she asked.

"Vows?"

"When they got married, didn't they swear before God to live together until one of them died?" she asked, and Freya laughed.

"Why would they do that? They didn't like each other anymore and that's that. Why should they stay together? Especially because my aunt can support herself and her children on her own. Why? Do people stay together in England?"

"Yes," Enid nodded. "Of course, they do. You can't break a vow or your soul won't make it into Heaven."

"But what if he's bad? What happens if he hits his wife or drinks too much?"

Enid stared at the girl, knowing the answer but suddenly unable to speak it. That was the risk, that was always the risk and one that was never set in stone until there was no way to back out. Even with Cormac Enid hadn't known for sure. He'd been kind. He'd always been polite and warm towards her, but what could she have done if he had treated her differently in that house next to his shop? Freya laughed again, thrusting her spear into the water and spearing another fish.

"The more you talk, the less I like your Christ-god," she said.