Page 4 of A Shield Maiden's Earl
Since receiving wordfrom Bjorn Helvig that he’d accepted my marriage proposal to his daughter, Freya, I had been eager, if not desperate, to see her again, longing to gaze upon the woman who had haunted my dreams for years.
And I could safely say I was not disappointed when I did.
Freya was as beautiful as ever, wearing her warrior paint, standing proudly with a fearless gleam in her thickly lashed, pale amber eyes. While of average height, she’d always had a way of seeming taller. Her thick, braided hair was still a warm crimson hue, reminiscent of a vivid sunset, and her delicate, flawless features were aglow, speaking to time spent in the late winter sun on the seas.
Although it had been many years since we’d last met as children, I was as drawn to her now as I had been when younger. She stood behind her father on the dock when, at one time, Bjorn would have insisted she and her sister stand beside him.
Yet, as I went through the formalities of greeting her father and noting how frail and wary Bjorn had become, undoubtedly due to his substantial wounds, it occurred to me there was more to his actions than one might realize. Something confirmed when the older man bit out his thoughts on my insistence that Freya keep her prized shield and blade when she tried to offer them to me.
“I agreed to this marriage for the strong sons my daughter will bear you and my Helvig lineage, Soren,” Bjorn made clear, speaking more callously about his daughter than he would have in the past. “Not that I might hand over one of my most precious possessions so that you could use her on the battlefield to advance your own causes.”
“Yet are my causes not the same as yours?” I reminded, having had no intention of sending Freya off to battle unless she wanted to go. “Do we not explore and fight on behalf of our king, Hákon Hákonarson? He who has brought this country to greatness and formed friendships with not just the Pope but the Holy Roman Emperor? A king who was even offered the imperial crown by the Pope, the High Kingship of Ireland by a delegation of Irish kings, and the command of the French crusader fleet by the French king?”
Clearly not pleased but still able-minded enough to counter well, Bjorn’s face grew redder as he eyed me.
“Ja, our causes are the same,” Bjorn conceded, giving Freya a sharp look when she thought to sheath her blade and resecure her shield. “Yet you defeat your own argument, do you not, Soren? Our good king has taken our beloved country far and, in turn, made diplomacy more favored and the battles of old less necessary. Our prized Norwegian women of fine bloodlines don’t need to fight our wars anymore but serve to continue our lineage so that Norway might only ever flourish, making them treasured, indeed.” He gestured at Freya. “And few are more treasured than a daughter of the fabled Helvigs and the fierce bears that watch over us.”
While I agreed it was unlikely Freya would need to battle, I knew from the fierce look in her eyes it would be a poor start to our marriage if I didn’t continue disputing this on her behalf. I also knew in that uncanny way I could sometimes, when it cameto people’s behaviors, that Bjorn spoke out of fear more than anything.
Fear of losing his daughter or seeing her suffer the pain he had suffered, of that I wasn’t as certain. Still, most could not see such as did I in the concerned, troubled glances Bjorn shot in Freya’s direction when he thought no one looked. I saw in them a man who had suffered in unimaginable ways and would be stubborn in his need not to see his daughters suffer the same. A man who once would have encouraged them to battle, mayhap even die in battle if meant embracing their shield-maiden spirits and being ushered proudly into the great halls of Valhalla.
I also saw a man who would not honor this arrangement unless he got his way. My best path forward would be to buy time and think through how best to please both Freya and her father.
“’Tis true, Freya is more treasured than most,” I agreed, beginning with what meant most to her. “To that end, Bjorn Helvig, I request that for now, you allow Freya to keep her prized weapons, so that we might share an ale by a warm fire and discuss how things should proceed.”
Bjorn’s dark gaze remained narrowed on me before he took in all with which I had traveled: my sizeable wolf, who sat at attention by my side, his thick black pelt rippling in the wind, my four well-built, impressive ships and my equally remarkable warriors tying off and lowering the sails. I would bring a lot to this marriage. Would I be worth turning away over something so trivial?
“As you wish,” Bjorn finally grunted, gesturing that Freya and I join him for the walk back to his stronghold tucked in a fog-steeped fjord and that Knud and Tove oversee my men settling in. “We will enjoy an ale in my lodge, then make our way to the celebrations if our discussions go well.”
“Should I not remain by your side, my liege?” Knud asked Bjorn, seeming unsettled he had been ordered to do otherwise.
“No,” Bjorn snapped, narrowing his eyes at his man as if he should have known better than to ask. “See after Earl Soren’s men, then await me in the great lodge.” His gaze softened on Tove despite the same warning in his voice. “Both of you.”
With that, he set off with a limp to his gait, and Freya and I fell in alongside him. Doing my best not to focus on her earthy, sweet scent or the fluid movements of her lithe body, I took in the bustling seaside village. As any thriving community would, this spoke to good leadership despite Bjorn’s scowl and curt mannerisms. Actions that I suspected were not unique to this situation.
To be expected, everyone’s attention turned our way, not only due to who I was, but because of the sizeable black wolf stalking alongside me, unwilling to leave my side. Sten, as I called him, had been a trusted companion for years, traveling with me everywhere. As tended to be his way when visiting others, he sat outside Bjorn’s lodge and kept guard once we went inside.
After accepting a horn of ale from a servant, I joined them around an inviting fire, noting the way Bjorn scowled and shook his head sharply at Freya when she tried to help him sit. Instead, he waved her away, grunting and wincing while lowering into his chair.
“You offended me by not accepting my daughter’s gifts, Soren,” Bjorn led out. His gaze narrowed on me, and he shook his head. “And in front of my people, no less. That alone gives me grounds to reject this marital pact.”
“It does,” I agreed, glancing from Freya, who sat beside her father, resting a hand possessively on her shield, and then back to Bjorn. “Yet ’twas my intention as Freya’s future husband tohonor her above all others.” I lowered my head in respect to Bjorn, then lifted my chin to meet his eyes, praying I spoke to the man I once knew. “Forgive me if I offended you, but ’tis my fondest hope Freya only ever holds me in the highest regard, as I have long held such esteem for her.” Glancing from her shield and blade back to Bjorn, I arched my eyebrows. “So, I would have it that she keeps her prized weapons, for did you not raise her to be a shield-maiden?”
“I did,” Bjorn conceded, his brow caught in a never-ending furrow of distress and perhaps disappointment. “Yet I don’t want her battling lest there’s no choice. I want her to start a new lineage that combines the power of the bear and the wolf. A lineage that will ensure a lasting kinship betwixt our people, well into the future.” He tossed back a swig of ale and gestured at Freya. “She is young and fertile, destined to lay down her shield and bear strong sons.” Shaking his head, his voice grew especially gruff. “’Tis the only way I will agree to this.”
Freya protested, “Despite raising me as a shield-maiden after my mother’s death so that I might—”
“Lay down your shield when ’tis asked of you by your father.” Bjorn cut her off, his eyes ablaze when they shot her way. “Lay down your shield so that you might wield a power far greater. One that will protect you and our kin far better than any shield ever could. Sons who will carry us forward into an ever-changing, unpredictable future.”
“Mayhap we can find some middle ground here,” I countered before Freya bit back with whatever she was about to say. “Mayhap, for the sake of what you wish all to see, we might try again during the celebrations this eve and have Freya gift her weapons to me. Then, I will return them to her at a later date, yet always do my best to keep her free of battle for I, too, want strong sons to carry on our lineage.”
Just as I wanted all it took in bed to make those sons. Yet I forced myself to set aside those thoughts for now lest the image of her body free of clothing drive me to distraction.
“Nay,” Bjorn returned, stubborn to the bone. “I would have Freya do as I asked from the beginning. Give you her weaponry for all to see, marking a new beginning betwixt our people.” He shook his head. “You willnotreturn them to her, even if there comes a time she must battle, which I would look unfavorably upon, but understand the choice is sometimes out of our hands.” He gestured loosely at his daughter without glancing her way. “In that case, you may provide her with any other weapons with which to defend herself.”
In truth, once Freya and I were married and she was mine, there was little Bjorn could do if I decided to return them to her. Yet I was a man of my word, so my stomach sank as that would not change even now. Not for her or anyone else. If I agreed to this, it would be my honor at stake, and nothing was more important. Frustratingly, it seemed that while I would have Freya in my bed, I suspected her heart might never belong to me because of this.
Yet there was no way around this. No counterargument would suffice. Bjorn refused to entertain anything but his wishes. So, I had no choice but to relent, hoping I might find another way to win her over once we were married.
