Beware of Jezebel

2. Exaudi nos, Domine

            And that was how her life went for few following days- she became sort of Ivar's personal maid/nurse. Mary didn't even see him all that often- Ivar settled in the church, so she would clean his quarters, wash his clothes and prepare him baths, while sleeping on a stack of hay in the hall, right by the entry. Ivar also resorted to calling her Mary. Surprisingly (and blissfuly so), he never asked her to take off her veil, cross or change into thrall's clothes. It was most likely done to make her easily recognisable to other men and to further mock her, because while they were warned against touching her, abusing, mocking and making each task significantly harder wasn't forbiden.

As the days passed in the Viking camp in York, a tense coexistence developed between them: when Ivar wasn't busy with military strategies, he took every opportunity to belittle Christian faith and mock her dedication to the Christian God. Yet, despite the harsh treatment and relentless insults, Sister Mary was determined to remain unconditionally kind. Recently, she begun to think that perhaps he even sees her as a form of intellectual entertainment- he was delighted when he found out she could play chess. For some reason, however, he took exceptional pleasure in trying to rile her up when Mary explained that being a nun meant that she married Jesus. 

She had just cleared off the plates from the table and was on her way to carry them to wash when Ivar grabbed her by the arm, intent to continue the unpleasant conversation he had begun before the meal.

"Won't your husband get angry that his wife is serving another man?"

"The Lord is forgiving," said Mary coolly and tried to pull away, but his fingers were like iron vices.

Unsuccessfully, he tried to catch Mary's eyes. Slowly, he turned her arm around and stroked inside of her wrist with his thumb. He won't let me go, I'll have to talk myself out of this.

"In the monastery, I had acquired a great collection of  books and medical supplies. I would like to return briefly and pick them up."

Ivar let her go and shifted on the bench to see her better. He raised an eyebrow, eyes glinting mischievously. "Books, really? Or are you trying to escape our delightful company?"

Mary sighed inwardly, already familiar with Ivar's teasing. "No, Master. It's crucial for my work. I have valuable medical knowledge and texts there that could be of great use."

He waved a man over to escort her and said, "Very well, Mary. And stick to 'Ivar', alright?"

The sight that greeted her as they entered the monastery was disturbing. Passing through the abandoned library, Mary stopped dead in her tracks. All books lay strewn on the floor, their gilded covers torn off and their pages scattered around. Mary did not dare to even think about the monetary loss of this carnage. The guard, however, wasn't affected and merely nudged her to go on.

Reluctantly tearing her gaze away, Mary continued toward her storage room. Thankfully, as she pushed open the creaking door, the room appeared untouched- her medical supplies and a small collection of cherished books remained in place.

***

Ivar sat in a bustling alcove, his bare torso exposed as he gripped the table's edge. An artist swiftly hammered on a nail, etching a tattoo across his back, the rhythmic pounding of the tool filling the air, while his usual threatening demeanor remained unchanged as he endured the painful process.

Hvitserk and Ubbe went to talk to Ivar, both looking discontent, and grew even angrier when guards wouldn't let them pass to their brother.

That was when Mary spotted Ivar arguing with two other men, who she now knew were his brothers. Soon, he was arguing only with blonde-haired brother, Ubbe, while Hvitserk stood nearby with his arms crossed.