The rest of the day was a chaos of activity: the ships had to be squared away, the gear stowed, sleeping quarters arranged, and a giant meal prepared to celebrate the men's return. In just a few minutes Gruntal's population had doubled, and although many of the newcomers would depart the next day for their homes in the provinces, for the moment the quiet valley had been transformed into a bustling hive.
Audgunn spent the day down at the beach, helping where she could. She worked late into the afternoon, and even after most of the men had retired for the day, she and Erik lingered on one of the Snekkes, scrubbing down the planks that formed the deck and talking about the voyage. When at last they had finished, Erik went off to join a group of his friends who were sitting on a nearby rock drinking ale and casting stones into the water. Audgunn wanted to join them, but she had been haunting the waterfront all afternoon, and although she had been teased and joked with by several of the men, no one had yet invited her to join their group.
This was a new, or relatively new development. Up until the previous summer, when the womanly changes in her body had become unignorable, she had always been invited to tag along with the men. All her life, she had followed them on errands and adventures, had been wrestled and tussled and lifted up onto shoulders, had listened for hours while they sat in a circle around the fire sharing stories and sipping ale. Then, almost overnight, that world had closed to her. She had become an outsider, someone with whom men could be friendly, could share certain jokes and stories, but in whose presence they had to be careful lest anyone should get the wrong idea. Many of the boys she had played with since infancy had suddenly become stiff and awkward in her presence; they would go silent when she was near, or she would catch them watching her, only to have them look guiltily away when she tried to meet their eyes. Only her father and brothers still treated her as they always had; they joked with her, consulted her, and did not censor themselves in front of her. But even they could not secure her entry in the wider world of male camaraderie, and so now when Erik went off to join the group on the beach, Audgunn was left to walk home alone.
She trudged slowly back toward the longhouse, trying to think if there was any task she might do or neighbor she might visit as an excuse to avoid returning to the world of cooking and babies and household chores. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she did not see Berglot, one of the kitchen women, coming up the path toward her carrying a steaming pot wrapped in a rag.
“Gunna, well met!” said Berglot. Her cheeks were pink her and breath came short from hurrying. “Take this broth up to the shed and give it to the prisoner. I just set the onions on the fire and you know how Granma complains when one leaves cooking unattended.”
Kolgrimma had been clear that none of the girls should visit the prisoner unaccompanied, but Berglot either did not care about the prohibition or had forgotten it in the frenzy of activity. Audgunn had been wishing to see the prisoner again since her first visit to the goat shed, but, having lately resolved to be a better daughter (or at least to avoid overt disobedience when she could help it), she had until now checked the urge to steal off for a visit.
However, the opportunity presented by Berglot and Kolgrimma's conflicting instructions was too good to miss, and so Audgunn accepted the errand without a word of protest. Berglot shot her a suspicious glance as she deposited the steaming pot into Audgunn's hands – she was not used to having her requests obeyed so willingly. But she had more pressing worries, and so she turned back toward the house with no more comment than a “Hurry! We need your help with the vegetables” called over her shoulder, leaving Audgunn to her task.
When Audgunn reached the goat shed, she set the pot down on a rock and proceeded to adjust her dress, run her fingers through her hair, and dust as much of the dirt from her skirt as she could. Finally, feeling a little silly for performing even this modest toilette, she threw back her shoulders, and, moving as gracefully as she knew how, picked up the pot and stepped into the warm darkness of the goat shed.
Thanks to their efforts the previous week, the shed was now quite cozy. In fact, it was almost unrecognizable: the holes in the walls had all been plugged with daub, and old tapestries – still functional, but too faded from smoke to be hung in the main house – had been strung from the wooden support beams. Hvit and Arni's fire pit was complete, and a low fire burned among the coals, giving the room a pleasant, woodsy smell. The hole in the roof had been covered by two sheets of stitched-together oilskin which could be raised at an angle to let smoke escape while keeping out the rain, or, on days like this, lifted entirely to let in the sun. The furnishings were minimal – aside from the platform on which the prisoner lay, there was only a small table where Marda prepared her medicines, a chest of supplies, and a pile of extra blankets. A stack of firewood lined the far wall, and in front of this stood three stools for the days when Agnar and his men came to observe the prisoner. No one would have called the shed lavish, but it was comfortable enough that even a prince held prisoner there could not complain. It was simple, clean, and cozy – and would be cozier still when winter came.
Audgunn stood in the doorway waiting for her eyes to adjust to the light. The sun had begun to sink low in the sky, and a single beam filtered down through the smoke flap, illuminating the prisoner's face and shoulders while leaving the rest of the room in shadow. Specs of pollen danced through the shaft of light, appearing like tiny fairies that whirled and spun down to where he lay. There was something magical in the air – something special about being alone in this silent place, with this beautiful, inscrutable man, at the enchanted hour when afternoon becomes evening.
Audgunn crossed the room, pulled out one of the stools and set the pot of broth atop it. Then she leaned over the bed and looked into the prisoner's face to see if he was awake.
He was. Once again the intensity of his gaze made her freeze. She felt as though he were looking directly into her mind, as though he could read each of her thoughts as clearly as if they were written on the air between them. They watched each other for a full minute before Audgunn looked away. She stood motionless for several seconds gathering her wits, then finally reached down and picked up the spoon.
Her hand shook as she brought the spoon, brimming with broth, to the prisoner's lips. A droplet spilled onto his cheek, and he flinched as the steaming liquid touched the skin. The powerful muscles of his neck contracted, then went still again. Audgunn took a rag and wiped away the spilled broth. As she did, her fingers accidentally brushed against his skin, sending a tiny flicker of electricity up through her arm.
She spilled the second spoonful, and the third, and although most of the broth arrived at its destination, she soon gave up wiping away the drops spilled during each attempt. When she fed him the tenth spoonful he opened his eyes again. Audgunn saw him observe her trembling hand and was embarrassed. Pink rose into her cheeks, and she saw him note this as well. He lowered his eyes, but she could tell that through his eyelashes he was still watching her with an intent, searching gaze.
It took her nearly half an hour to finish. When she had, she reached down to find the rag so that she could wipe the remaining drops from his face, but she discovered it had fallen to the floor. The sun had now sunk so low that it lit only the farthest corner of the room, and she had to grope for a moment in the shadows below the bed before she found the rag.
As she rose, she felt something brush her arm. To her shock, she saw that the prisoner had reached out his left hand and touched her. Audgunn felt a stab of fear – he could move.
Her first instinct was to run, but instead she stood frozen, uncertain what to do. He was holding his hand out to her, inviting her to take it. The arm reaching out to hers was breathtakingly strong, its muscles so taut one could see their power even at rest. All Kolgrimma's warnings came rushing back to her with new meaning. Her pulse was racing and her blood seemed to run first icy cold, then blindingly hot. She couldn't think, and so, without considering what she was doing, she put her hand in
his.
They stood like that for a long time, hand in hand, neither of them moving. His skin was cool and soft and smooth – his fingers powerful and yet surprisingly tender. It occurred to Audgunn that the hand she was holding was responsible for the deaths of who knew how many men – perhaps even men she knew and loved – yet she did not pull away.
Instead she looked into his eyes. And there in the soft brown irises she saw something she had missed before: fear. Fear and vulnerability. For the first time she thought of what it must be like to be in his position – alone, hundreds of miles from everything you had ever known, injured and helpless and surrounded by hostile strangers whose language you could not understand. No wonder his eyes seemed to be pleading with her. He was probably more afraid than she was.
And so she did an unexpected thing. There, in the dusky light of the goat shed, she leaned over and kissed the prisoner on his lips.
It was not a long kiss, but it was one that Audgunn would remember for the rest of her life. It began gently – a chaste meeting of lips, then tongues, that slowly turned to movement, gathering force and intensity until it felt to Audgunn that she had slipped out of her body and merged into a single being with the stranger on the bed.
Audgunn had kissed only two men before – excluding childhood games – and both times had been short and awkward. So now she was caught off guard by the physical sensation the kiss evoked. It was not merely a meeting of mouths, but a blossom of feeling, a burst of radiant energy that seemed to expand and stretch, spreading first through her face and then out across her body. She felt as if she were outside herself, as if everything had fallen away save for the scent of his body, the sweet, faintly salty taste of his tongue, and that indescribable sensation of being transported outside oneself by a physical act.
It was just a kiss. And yet, there are kisses that can change the course of lives, upend whole communities, even, sometimes, shift the course of history. This was such a kiss, although of course Audgunn did not know it at the time. To her it was just the impulse of a moment, a sudden urge born of her desire to join the elusive club of adulthood, and pity for this powerful man, rendered suddenly so friendless and alone. She had no idea that she was starting something, that her simple act would set off a chain of events that would forever alter not just the two people joined in the darkness of the goat shed, but everyone she had ever known.
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