CHAPTER EIGHT

 

When Donna woke up next morning, Sigurd was gone, and the bed chilled her skin without his warmth. Yesterday she had experienced, undoubtedly, the most mind-blowing sex of her life. Her body felt sated and alive, as if every cell had been awoken after a long sleep. As she stretched, a quiet, primal rhythm beat in her very core and gave her strength and energy. She could not quite believe she had given in to Sigurd, but if she ever got back to New York, she’d think back on this as if it was a little adventure, a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Right. New York. Home. She needed to find a way back. The thought sobered her up, and she quickly dressed.

Was Sigurd still somewhere in the great hall? Donna opened the door and surveyed the giant room, but he was not there. He must be at the construction site.

Women in simple clothes did housework: cooking at the long hearth, sweeping the floors, sewing. Traditional gender roles. Donna shook her head but reminded herself this was not her battle. Thank goodness she lived in the twenty-first century.

Donna approached a woman who sliced carrots and threw them into a cauldron that smelled of stew and made Donna’s mouth water and her stomach growl.

The woman glanced at Donna. “Ah, Goddess.” She gestured at the place on the bench next to her. “You seem better. Did you want to eat?”

Donna frowned. “I’m not a goddess.”

The woman eyed her up and down. Her face was weathered, reddish and dry, wrinkles deep. Yet her eyes gave away a younger person, and her hair shone like gold. “You do seem like a mortal to me.”

Donna chuckled. “And as a mortal, I am, actually, very hungry and thirsty. Where can I find something to eat?”

The woman looked around the room. “Hilde! Bring something for our guest to eat. And don’t forget the mead.”

A young woman with a short haircut, in clothes that reminded Donna of a sack, nodded and hurried to the furthest corner of the room.

“My name is Asa.” The woman returned to her carrots. “Do you have a name?”

“Donna. Are you the Asa who saw me appear by the arch?”

“Just the one. How did you get here? Jarl thinks you came here to help us with the fortress.”

Donna swallowed. What did Sigurd want people to know about her? What would be safe to share with Asa, who seemed friendly enough? “It’s a long story.”

Asa raised her brows but did not pursue the question, and Donna was thankful. She looked around. While many women worked, some seemed to chat while doing their chores leisurely. There wasn’t a single man in the hall.

Hilde came with a bowl and a wooden cup that smelled of honey. Donna thanked her and drank the mead. It was delicious. Sweet and cold, only slightly alcoholic, it refreshed her. Her tongue tickled as tiny bubbles went down her throat. Her head buzzed a little. She began to eat, but the food—a combination of cheese and yogurt with oatmeal—was not as good. It was a bit salty and pungent. Still, it was food.

“Why isn’t there enough of a workforce?” Donna asked through a full mouth.

Asa’s knife froze for a moment, then continued its chop, chop, chop but slower. “Last year’s raid took the lives of many men—at least half. The old jarl’s, too. But the enemy retreated with their tail between their legs. And now all men are working on the fortress, every single one of them. We are in a hurry to raise it by the end of the summer so that next raiding season we have protection against our biggest enemy, even though there are fewer men.”

Chills ran down Donna’s spine. These were harsh times. While war, violence and death still tore apart countries and communities in her own time, they had, so far, been at a distance—on TV or social media. She couldn’t imagine that half of the male population of Brooklyn would suddenly die like the men had in this village. Her chest tightened.

“Let me guess. Sigurd does not employ women to work on the fortress.”

Asa’s eyes met Donna’s. “He does not.”

Donna rose to her feet, an idea lightening her mood. Oh, so Sigurd did not want women to help. But he didn’t have enough men, and some women did not seem to have important things to do.

“But he could ask you ladies to help, couldn’t he? That would give him enough workforce, right?”

Asa shot a sideways glance at her. “Yes, it would.”

Donna knew now why the Norn had sent her here. Her inner discrimination lawyer sang. She fought for women’s equal rights, and Sigurd was discriminating.

“Asa, could you please gather the women here for me?”

Asa frowned. “Why?”

“Because I am here to help with the fortress.”

Asa squinted, then a little smile put dimples in her cheeks. She nodded and put the knife on the cutting board. Then she went around the room calling for women and gesticulating towards Donna, and they began gathering around her. Soon, there were thirty or so women. Some had come in from outside; all watched her with curiosity.

Donna’s stomach quivered. What if she was wrong? Was she really assuming she could intervene in the lives of the villagers? She was an outsider, someone from a different time.

But no. If she could bring a positive change, this would be it.

She cleared her throat and imagined she was in front of a jury because the jury usually liked her. “How many of you want to see your families and neighbors alive and well?”

The women nodded and exchanged glances, murmuring approval.

“How many of you think that the men won’t be able to finish the fortress by the next raiding season?”

The women’s eyes widened with fear now, and their voices rang louder.

“Jarl Sigurd needs more hands. Is the work on defenses not more important than scrubbing that pot till it shines? Would it be so bad to let the floor stay a little dusty if it meant that your brother or husband or son would live and breathe next year?”

She looked around the room, making a point of stopping to meet the eyes of every woman. “Here is what I suggest. Every single one of you who can spare a few hours to go and build the fortress with the men, come with me.”

The women stood silent.

“Jarl Sigurd forbade us to touch the fortress,” Asa said.

“Did he say why?”

“He said, women can’t do important things right.”

Donna shook her head. “Sigurd is so wrong! Women can’t do important things? Look at you! You are doing them all day long! Cooking, taking care of children and animals, making sure everything is in order… I’d like to see the men left without your work for one day.”

They murmured.

“If we don’t help, no one will. And if no one will, there will be no one to protect.”

Asa nodded. “You are right, Donna. We have strong arms. Each of us can help much. There are more of us than all the men combined. The jarl must see that.”

The women were nodding and cheering now. Donna smiled. “Let’s go! Asa, lead the way.”

They walked through the village towards the fjord, calling for other women that they saw along the way to join them, and by the time they arrived at the construction site that bordered the beach, their numbers had doubled.

The men were busy. They carried logs, chopped branches from the trunks of the trees, dug the ditch, sharpened the logs to make stakes, and planted the stakes in the ditch. The palisade wall was then caked with mud, and from behind, supported by logs that were planted in the ground at an angle. A wooden watchtower stood a few feet to the left, but it lacked a roof.

Once the men saw them, they stopped their work and scowled.

Donna walked on. “Asa, who is the foreman?”

Asa waved to a man. “Thorsten! We are here to help with construction.”

“Did the jarl really approve of this?” he said when he approached them.

“Jarl needs help, he’s got help,” Asa said.

He hesitated, throwing glances at the palisade and back to the women. “Jarl will skin me.”

“Good. You won’t see your wife and daughters raped and killed.”

His face reddened, his eyes bulged.

Donna intervened. “Just give us the simplest tasks.”

His gaze lay heavily on her. Finally, he nodded. “Fine. If the goddess thinks so, maybe he’ll change his mind. You five, go cut the branches from those trunks. You three, sharpen the edges of those logs. Amba, take six women to bring mud and hay and mix them for the caking…”

The women nodded and rushed to do what Thorsten told them. The men watched them with stern faces.

Asa and Donna approached two men standing next to a log and got into position to lift it with them. On a count of three, they raised it, and the effort knocked the breath out of Donna. She was grateful now for the Krav Maga classes that gave her strength and resilience.

Time flew, and when Sigurd’s roar hit the air like a slap, Donna shuddered. She was in the middle of carrying another log together with three other women, and they stopped, carefully laying the log on the ground.

Donna turned around. Sigurd’s eyes circled the construction site, his eyebrows knit together and his nostrils flared. Oh, he was glorious, all danger and muscles and passion, and a thrill ran through Donna’s body. His gaze locked on her, and heat struck Donna’s cheeks. He loped towards her as if she were prey, and Donna ignored an urge to run and hide. When he stopped in front of her, he watched her as if no one and nothing else existed—just like last night when he’d been inside of her. Donna’s lips parted, desire to be taken by him spilling through her veins like lava.

“Loki, take me to Helheim, what is this?” Sigurd growled, and Donna gulped down her breath.

Why was he so tall? It was so hard to fight him when he always loomed over her. Her chin rose. “We came to build—”

He took a step closer and she took one back, but they stood half an inch apart, and the heat from his big body warmed her skin. “What did I tell you? Do not take a step out of the longhouse! Do not talk to anyone!”

“Oh, you would forbid me everything if you could! But you are convinced that I came here to help you finish the fortress in time.” She gestured around herself. “So there it is. My help.”

Sigurd grabbed her by the arm, and his touch sent a wave of desire through her. “This is no help. Women can’t construct the fortress.”

Donna snatched her arm back from his grip, and a part of her sank in disappointment from breaking the contact. But only a small part. Because he was being a stubborn ass again, one who would get them all killed. And she had to stop him. She stabbed her finger at the fortress. “Constructing. That is exactly what they are doing.”

If only he could see that! Since the female task force had joined the construction, the number of logs and stakes had tripled, the palisade had been caked with mud, and skilled builders, freed from simple tasks, had started working on the roof of the watchtower.

Sigurd bared his teeth. “Everything here needs to be checked and rechecked, and redone. You doubled the amount of work for the men.”

Donna gasped. She itched to kick him. “Are you kidding me? We did simple things—anyone can do them!”

“How many fortresses have you built, Donna? Or you, Asa? Or any of these women? None.” He turned to the construction site. “That’s it. There will be no more help from the women! If any of you even touch the fortress, you will be banned from my jarldom. Does everyone hear me? Banned!” He turned to her. “And you.” His eyes pierced her, and her stomach flipped. “Tonight, you’ll be sorry for what you did.”