Beware of Jezebel

6. Gods and goddesses

            In the cold shed, Mary continued her work, the scent of fragrant seeds lingering in the air as she pressed oil. The entrance creaked open, and she turned to find Freydis entering, her usual smile conspicuously absent.

"You're Mary, right? The King's slave?" Freydis inquired sharply. Mary nodded in acknowledgment but didn't bow, like a thrall should.

Freydis cleared her throat impatiently. "I must know, what is exactly your role in this household?"

Mary, unfazed by this attempt at intimidation, picked up a rag to wipe her arms before responding evenly, "I look after his household and his health. And I also work as a healer for  citizens, soldiers, and thralls."

Freydis studied Mary with a disdainful expression but chose not to engage further. Instead, she abruptly flipped her blond hair in Mary's face and walked out briskly, leaving Mary with an unsettling feeling in her gut.

Mary's gaze lingered on the doorway, her worry surfacing. While Freydis's intentions with Ivar were evident, Mary couldn't decipher what plans Freydis might have for her. It was clear that the girl aimed to become Ivar's lover, perhaps even a concubine or wife, and Mary had no qualms about that. However, she knew that Freydis perceived her as a threat—a competitor for Ivar's heart.

Soon her thoughts were pushed to the back of her head, since Mary spotted Hvitserk leaving a  hut that wasn't his. He stepped through the door, looked around and darted away, looking to his sides as he rushed across the street. However, he forgot to look ahead of himself and slammed into Mary, who didn't move, just stood with her arms crossed and smirk on her face. Startled by the collision, Hvitserk stumbled back, but recognising Mary straightened and tried to step around, only to have his way blocked again.

"I don't like it when you visit one girl too frequently. What if she'll have to come to me for herbs?" said Mary.

Hvitserk held his eyes on his shoes. "None of your business," he said and tried to pass Mary again. 

"Or perhaps you don't want to visit other girls anymore?" she said to his back and Hvitserk stopped. "I didn't mean to offend. Just curious, that's all. Inquisitivity wasn't a virtue in the monastery."

Reluctantly, Hvitserk walked back to Mary. He looked around uneasily.

"Her name's Thora," he said. "And you better keep your mouth shut, because Ivar is completely out of his mind at this point."

Mary furrowed her brows. "What do you mean?"

"A lot has changed since you don't visit the longhouse as often anymore."

"I will tell no one, that's your business, not mine. And I should probably see Ivar soon, am I right?"

"If it's not too late," said Hvitserk, then nodded to Mary and hurried away.

***

            Mary hated the situation she was in. She was taught not to hate, but oh, how she hated everything at the moment. She seemed to be at odds with everybody in the household: vikings hated going against their own family, but by being focused on avenging his mother, Ivar forced Ubbe and Hvitserk to do exactly that. In the battle, King Harald killed his brother, and Bjorn Ironside swore to protect his mother, thus it meant that in order for Ivar to take revenge, Bjorn must die.

Then there was also the overall situation of Kattegat: Mary couldn't know if it had always been this rowdy, drunk and disorganised, but being so close to people she had heard often enough that Lagertha's rule was more favoured than Ivar's bloodlust. She knew enough about royals to see that this was one of the worst states for a young king to find himself in.