Helga plonked her arms on her hips. “The jarl gave the keys into my keeping.”
Ainslin tried to contain her fury. “I am the jarl’s wife—”
“Jarl Torsten spoke with me early this morn. He commanded that we not disturb your rest. He instructed me that you were not to lift a finger this day.” Helga made no effort to disguise her contemptuous triumph. “Thora, escort Lady Ainslin back to the jarl’s lodge so she can rest as the jarl ordered.”
For a split second Ainslin considered clawing and scoring the haughty smirk off Helga’s thin lips. Humiliation blistered her throat and face. Not willing to give Helga a complete victory, she stuck out her jaw, and swept a glance around the room. Forcing a smile, she said, her voice dulcet sweet and even, “I am happy for your company, Thora, and I thank you for your gracious welcome, Helga.”
With that, she pivoted, and forced herself to stroll slowly and with a grace she didn’t feel through the chamber. She made her way to the plump girl Helga had finger-stabbed. “And who are you, little one?”
Blue eyes popping, the girl attempted a clumsy curtsey, and nigh tipped over. She righted herself, and a ferocious blush stained her face. “Helene, my lady.”
Ainslin crouched to be eye level with the girl and spoke rapidly, “Helene, did you know there is a hot spring behind the jarl’s lodge?”
“Aye,” Helene whispered. “My Mamma told me.”
“Milady, Helene. Aye, milady.”
Ainslin glanced at the woman who corrected Helene.
A tall, striking female, who wore a navy overtunic fastened to thick black linen straps by two silver brooches. She dipped a quick curtsey. “I am Greta , milady. Helene’s mamma.”
Ainslin captured Helene’s tiny hand and stood. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance Greta. I would be pleased for your and Helene’s company while Thora and I return to the lodge. Have you seen the springs?”
“Nay, milady.” Greta ’s wary glance flickered in Helga’s direction.
“Then you both must come with us. I insist.” Ainslin firmed her grasp on Helene’s fingers, whirled around, and marched swiftly to the entrance. She ignored Helga’s outraged sputter and refused to surrender to the burning temptation to glance back, and stick out her tongue and wriggle her fingers at the horrid woman. ’Twas a childish gesture Brom and Rod oftentimes used when totally frustrated.
Helene skipped to keep pace with Ainslin.
Though she regretted making the girl uncomfortable, Ainslin did not slow down until they were well out of calling distance from the kitchens. Nor did she check for Thora and Greta though she yearned to do so.
“Why was Lady Helga quarreling with you, Helene?”
“Because I picked flowers for Mama that make Lady Helga itch all over. She made Mama burn them in the hearth. They were pretty and purple and I didn’t itch. Neither did Mama. Do you think Mama will punish me?”
The little girl looked so forlorn and weepy that Ainslin hurried to reassure her. “Nay. You didn’t know Lady Helga would itch. And you shouldn’t be punished if you didn’t know what you did was wrong.”
Not a few minutes later, the thump of wooden shoes on packed dirt reached Ainslin’s ears. She halted and swept a sidelong peek to her right. Grinning when both Thora and Greta ’s figures came into view, she waited until the women reached her side.
“Milady.” Thora near panted the one word.
“I thank you both for coming.” Unsure now whether Helga had won the day and if her rushed departure signified cowardice, she searched Greta and Thora’s countenances for any sign of censure and relaxed a bit when she found none. True concern for them prompted her to blurt, “Can Helga punish either of you? I know little of how Norse households are managed and what power Helga wields.”
Greta ’s teeth snagged her bottom lip.
Thora bent her head and studied a rock near the hem of her dress.
Ainslin groaned. She had her answer.
Why had Torsten scuttled her authority?
How dare he forbid her to lift a finger?
“I will right this wrong I have done the both of you,” Ainslin proclaimed. “Do you both work in the kitchens normally?”
“Mamma.” Helene pulled on Greta’s apron-tunic. “Can I go watch the squirrels on that tree?”
They had arrived at the base of a densely wooded mountain. Ainslin had never seen this part of Stjórardalr before. The meadow they stood in was secluded and nigh isolated from the rest of the holding. Surrounded by the steep, rocky face of the mountain on one side, and the woods on the other two sides, they would have to re-trace their steps to return to the lodge.
“You may, but you must not enter the woods. See that rock right there.” Greta stooped and pointed to a roundish boulder of varying shades of gray. “Sit on that rock and go no further. Understand what I’m saying, sweeting?”
Ainslin admired Greta’s tender treatment of her daughter. She, too, believed in explanations to children to urge them into good conduct. Though the parish priest preached his and the church’s philosophy of spare the rod and damn the child, she had refused to allow anyone to administer corporal punishment in Hadrain’s castle.
“She is a lovely child,” Ainslin commented. “Such a cheery disposition.”
“Aye, she is a lively one, but she is easily distracted and wanders off in pursuit of some bunny or puppy.” Greta cupped her hand over her mouth and yelled, “No catching butterflies, Helene. Remember what happened last time you did that?”
Helene stopped skipping and turned around to face Ainslin, Greta, and Thora. “Aye, Mamma. I recall. ’Twas naughty of me. No chasing butterflies.”
They all watched the little girl hop her way to the rock.
When Helene scrambled to the top of the boulder, sat cross-legged, and settled her tunic, Greta puffed out a sigh. “That’ll keep her occupied for a while.”
“Aye, I agree ’tis better for young ears not to hear our conversation.” Ainslin allowed. “But, I will have both of you answer my question regarding Helga’s power over you.”
Determined to wring an honest reply from each woman, she held the stare of first Thora, then Greta.
“The jarl bid me to attend to you, milady. I waited for you this morn and followed you to the hall and the kitchens.” Thora averted her eyes from Ainslin’s.
Shocked that she had not noticed Thora following her, Ainslin asked, “Why did you not walk with me? I would’ve welcomed your company.”
“I did not know what to do, milady.” Thora clasped her hands together and shot Ainslin a beseeching look. “You didn’t speak to me last night. I didn’t want to offend you.”
Ainslin recalled her fear and nervousness during what seemed like an eternal walk to the lodge. “You have my regrets for being so rude, last eve. I was too terrified to think, far less speak.”
Greta took a step closer to Thora and Ainslin. She cleared her throat. “My mother is Wilma the Wise, the healer of Stjórardalr. There is to be a feast on the morrow to celebrate your marriage. This day and the morrow, every female works in the kitchens.”
Ainslin breathed a little easier. “Then Helga cannot punish either of you?”
Thora and Greta exchanged rueful grimaces.
“All the stores are in her keeping. The soaps, the provisions, the flints. She dispenses to all and sundry.”
Understanding the implications of Greta ’s explanation, Ainslin closed her eyes. “She will short you on everything.”
“Or forget entirely. At least I am too tall to be slapped or whipped.” Greta stared at Thora. “Lady Helga wanted her daughter, Camilla, to be your maid. The jarl overruled her and picked Thora instead. Lady Helga was furious and she took a birch branch to Thora.”
Thora shook her head and twined her fingers together. “’Tis of no import, Greta.”
“Nay, milady needs to know. Lady Helga is swift to slap or whip or kick. Howbeit, she has improved the meals, the rushes are always fresh, but none dare disobey her every command. I am in favor of cleanliness, but would not paddle a toddler’s arse blue for spilling milk. Helene knows she is never to be alone with Lady Helga.” Greta folded her arms and regarded Ainslin with a wary expression as if expecting a rebuke from Ainslin.
If she could, Ainslin would’ve breathed fire. She stamped a foot. “Only a bully would beat a mere child. I will not tolerate Helga assaulting anyone, be he or she warrior, babe, old, or infirmed.”
Greta grinned. “Then let us put our heads together, the three of us, and devise a way to hasten Lady Helga’s departure.”
“Agreed,” Ainslin avowed. “Thora?”
“I will do what I can to help, but milady, I am fearful of Lady Helga.” Thora’s plump lips quivered.
Ainslin gave Thora’s arm a quick, reassuring squeeze. “Of course you are. She beat you. We will first enforce the same edict that Greta has with Helene—you are never to be alone in her presence from this moment on. Agreed?”
A rosy hue dusted Thora’s pale complexion. “Aye, milady.”
“Call me Ainslin, Thora. And you, too, Greta.” Ainslin decided ’twas not much of a risk to plead for their friendship.
“Milady, ‘twould be improper for us to do so. At least if others are around.” Greta winked. “Since no wagging ears around, I would be proud to call you my friend, Ainslin.”
Ainslin clapped her hands, surrendered to her elation, and hugged Greta and then Thora. “Shall we call Helene and hurry to the lodge? I am anxious to begin planning how to unseat horrible Helga.”
Greta chortled. “Horrible Helga, indeed, Ainslin.”
“’Twas my first thought when I first met Helga,” Ainslin explained, unable to stopper the smirk quirking her lips.
Greta raised her voice and waved to her seated daughter, “Helene! We are ready to go onto the lodge. Run to us, sweeting.”
Ainslin linked arms with Greta and Thora and they all waited for Helene to join them.
“Can I skip ahead of you, Mamma?” Helene craned her neck to see her mother.
“May I. And yes, you may, but stay where we can see you. No darting into bushes. Hie yourself off, then.” Greta tapped a finger to Helene’s nose.
Helene skipped ahead of the three women.
“I seem to recollect the jarl telling me that Helga is to remarry. Is this so?” Ainslin wondered what type of man would willingly wed the termagant Helga.
Thora’s reddish-brown eyebrows snapped up. “Lady Helga is to wed? I have never heard of any such plan.”
Greta snorted. “I can scarce believe horrible Helga has a suitor. I know naught of such an arrangement. And there has been no gossip of it.”
“I thought it might be too good to be true. To be fair, she has the shape of an overripe pumpkin, but many a man prefers a buxom woman. And she has proved herself a breeder. How did Helga come to Bear Hall?” Question after question peppered Ainslin’s mind.
Did Helga come from a renowned family?
Was she wealthy in her own right?
Or had she inherited vast lands? Wealth? And, if so, from her dead husband? Or through her family’s line?
An impoverished warrior or any man who craved wealth would not hesitate to marry an heiress.
“’Tis my understanding that Jarl Torsten’s father’s second wife birthed Helga. She came to Bear Hall last autumn. I wish I could say different, but she has transformed the holding. We are all warmer for the rushes on the floor and shutters on every window. Not one, but two hearths in the hall.”
Ainslin scrunched her nose. “These are all good and common practices. Why had you not had them before?”
“Because our men are Vikings and they disdain anything that speaks of small comforts. My Einar and the rest of the men will cut holes in the ice and play a game of who can last the longest in the freezing waters.” Greta rolled her eyes.
“Milady, the jarl awaits you yonder,” Thora warned and cast a fretful glance at the lodge.
Wondering why Thora’s voice wobbled, Ainslin shaded her eyes with her hand and glimpsed her husband standing on the landing before the lodge. She flinched at Torsten’s menacing expression.
Why was he so angry?
Had Helga spoken with him?
Had she spewed some sinister accusation about Ainslin?