The king and his men are in the great hall, feasting. It is a celebration of Alf’s success. The queen is there as well. But she kept true to her word; she did me the favor I asked today. Then she dressed herself beautifully, put on her hawk-plumage cloak, and left.
Thyra and Ragnhild have also done their parts: Women are gathering in the large room of the king’s home. They look at me sideways as they enter. Their skepticism is natural. I am the king and queen’s adopted child—I might well assume the right to order them around. And of late I am the girl in the tower; men died trying to win me. Who knows what evil might lurk in such a heart? And, perhaps most worrisome of all, I am the girl who has kept herself hidden away since the valiant Alf stormed the tower yesterday. What could I be thinking? My mental powers are called into question.
The women sit on the floor. Twelve of them, including Thyra and Ragnhild. Some work in this household. Others, I don’t know. They are friends of Thyra and Ragnhild.
I get to my knees. The very action catches them by surprise—their eyes shift around the room, as though spies might jump out at any moment. They expected me to walk in their midst royally, making declarations, perhaps? I open my hands to them. “Some of you are slaves.” I look around at the faces, some dark, some scarred, all thin. “Some are free women, but servants.” I nod. Only a few of them dare to nod back. “Many of you—maybe all—find few choices in daily life. Maybe you foresee marriage, maybe not. But whether or not to marry and who to marry, for many of you—maybe for all—will not be your choice.” I nod again. They stare at me, unblinking. “Choice. It is a mighty thing, choice. How to pass your day, your life. Who to bed with, or not. Choice.” They are still staring. “I want choice. I demand it. I am taking that right—by force.” I lower my voice. “And if you come with me, you will have that right too. You will choose how to pass your day, how to live your life.”
The women look at one another. They speak only with their eyes, but so many conversations are going on. One woman, the older slave Unn, shakes a hand, open-fingered, toward me. “What do you mean, come with you? Where are you going?”
“I cannot tell you.”
A small murmuring of distrust runs through the group.
Thyra gets to her knees. “Speak, Alfhild.” There is a gasp as the women realize Thyra has called me by name without saying my title first. “Tell them why you cannot say where you are going. If you don’t trust them, how can they trust you?”
I hadn’t planned on this. I would have shared with the women, once we were away. But beforehand, it’s dangerous. I don’t want those who stay behind to lead pursuers to our trail. Thyra’s reasoning makes sense, though. “I cannot say where because I do not know. I have to find my sister.” I swallow the lump of grief in my throat and force myself to say it: “She was stolen by a ship. I think a Russian slave ship. I’m sure of it.”
Their faces open. I see the sadness they carry. How many of them were stolen? But others must have been sold into slavery by their parents. That has to be worse.
“Your sister?” says one woman, a little older than me. Her face is not open; it is shrewd and hard. She is a servant to Queen Tove. Her name is Ingun. “You have lived here a long time. We never heard talk of a sister.”
“It was seven years ago.”
“Seven years?” Ingun looks at me as though I’m void of reason. “Why, anything could have happened to her by now. She could be anywhere.”
“Exactly,” I say. “So if you come with me, you may wander far.”
“How will wandering with you mean we have choice?” It is the slave Unn again. She is bold and tenacious. That’s what I need in my companions. I must win her.
“I will pay wages. Everyone gets the same pay. You can choose to leave anytime.”
“Where will you get the money to pay wages?” asks Ingun.
“I have money.” I look around, my eyes seeking and holding the eyes of each of them in turn. “It is not stolen. It belongs to no one else. This is truth. I will pay you, I swear.”
“But I’m a slave,” says Unn. “No law protects a runaway slave. If I am caught, your father, the king, can have me put to death. And he will. I have no doubt. I have lived here twenty-three years, serving both king and queen, and the king and queen before them.”
I’ve thought about this, at least, thank heavens. “We can send word back to Heiðabý about each of you. The rumor will be whatever you want. It can be that you were lost at sea. Or died of illness. Or that I forced you to come and you’ve escaped and are on your way home. It can be a secret message to the people you love who need to know you are well. It’s up to you. Think about that one thing: It’s up to you. Everything will be up to you. In a new place, with money in your pouch, what becomes of you will be your choice.”
“What do you mean, ‘lost at sea’?” asks a girl I don’t know. From her clothes and skin, she is a slave. “You said that. You said the message can be we were ‘lost at sea’.”
“Can I know your name?”
She presses her lips together, and I see her fight fear. “I want to hear about the sea.”
“I am Alfhild.” I look at her and try to radiate gentleness. “Your name. Please?”
“Jofrid.”
“Jofrid. A good Norse name. And Unn is a good Norse name. All of you go by good Norse names. As do I. But”—I fold my hands in front of my chest—“we may go by other names inside our heads. Those people, those other girls and women with those foreign names locked inside us, they need choice.”
“That may be,” says Unn. “But Jofrid is right; tell us about the sea.”
“The only way to follow the path of a Russian slave ship is by sea. Right?” I look around, appealing to them for agreement. They just look back at me. “There’s a boat waiting for us. It will be our home.”
“I know nothing about boats,” says the servant Matilda.
“You’ll learn.”
“And just who is going to teach me?”
“Me,” I say.
“You know how to manage a boat?”
“I do.”
“That’s hard to believe. But even if it’s true, what will happen to the boat at first, when none of the rest of us knows a thing about it?”
“Maybe we need some men,” says Ragnhild quickly. She’s at my side. I hear her heavy breathing. “I can think of one who might come.”
“No men.” I shake my head hard. “If women leave, they may chase us, but they will give up quickly. If men leave, they will hunt us down relentlessly.”
“Then we’re back to my question,” says Matilda. “How can we think of setting out with only one person who knows about boats?”
“I know about boats,” says Jofrid. “So we’ll be starting with two of us knowing how to do things.”
I rub my hands together as hope rises in my chest. This may really happen. “Within days all of us will learn every detail of managing a boat.”
Matilda stares. She shakes her head. “I can’t even swim.”
“You’ll learn that, too.”
“I can teach you that,” says Thyra.
“What about food?” asks Matilda. “We have to eat; we’re not like the god Óðinn.”
“Ah!” Grima, the slave of Queen Tove, slaps her hand to her chest in sudden realization. “The boat is well stocked for at least ten days.”
“How do you know this?” It is the king’s slave Osk.
“I just know.” She looks down. “Believe me.”
“And the king knows nothing about this?” asks Osk.
“Nothing,” I say.
“Just how did you get a boat?”
I look from face to face. “You don’t need to know that. None of you. And it’s better if you don’t.”
“Better for you?”
“Just better,” I say.
“And what’s supposed to happen to us once you do find your sister?”
“That’s up to you. You will be free women. You will decide.”
“Free women.” Osk shakes her head. She stands. She looks hard at Grima. She has clearly figured out that the queen had Grima stock the boat with food. She sees it all as treachery. My heart beats erratically. It was a mistake to invite all the women household slaves and servants. Of course some of them would be loyal. Of course. I stuff the back of my hand in my mouth. What an idiot I am. What will happen to Queen Tove now?
Osk looks at me at last. “What do we need to bring?”
I fall forward on hands and knees in grateful relief. “A cloak for sleeping under. It gets cold at night on water. An extra shift if you have one. A pouch. And whatever else you want. An ax if you can get your hands on one. A dirk. But don’t invite suspicion. Don’t carry anything you can’t account for should someone ask.”
“If we had men with us, they could bring axes and no one would question them,” says Ragnhild. “I know one who speaks Russian. That would help if we’re going after a Russian slave dealer. That would help us, Alfhild.”
“I can speak with Russians,” says Osk.
Ragnhild’s face crumples.
“Ragnhild.” I put my arm around her. “When we are finished, you’ll have money enough to buy a slave. Whatever slave you want. We can send someone to buy him for you, and then the two of you can go wherever you want together. We can’t risk the lives of all of us because of any one person’s needs.”
Ragnhild wipes tears away. “I know. I was just being stupid. But I know.”
“Hurry, everyone. Tell no one. Meet me by the fjord bank where they slaughtered the whales. If you don’t show up, we’ll leave without you. We have to put as much distance as possible between us and town by the end of the evening’s feast. We cannot wait.”
“With luck,” says Jofrid, “they will all fall into drunken stupors till morning, and then wake with pounding heads and be unaware of our absence till midday.”
“I’ve never counted on luck in my life,” says Ingun. “Don’t make me start now. Race, everyone. Race.”