Estimated to be born at approximately 798 AD, Saint Benedicta of Scandinavia remains a controversial figure up to this day. Throughout the centuries she was considered a traitor, inspiration to Christians, an overrated political figure and a strong...
The break of dawn painted the sky in delicate shades of pink and orange, casting a soft glow over the camp. In the early light, Mary moved silently among the tents. She was making her way out of the camp, the dirt path beneath her feet gradually leading her away from the vikings.
Mary thought that her departure had gone unnoticed, but Ivar was standing alone on a small hill, his eyes fixed on her retreating silhouette.
As Mary's form grew smaller and smaller in the distance, the crushing sensation began to take hold in his chest. The pain constricted his throat and he felt as if he could not breathe anymore, and the only sound was that of blood rushing in his ears.
Ivar watched helplessly as Mary's figure finally disappeared over a distant hill. As he stood alone on his watchpoint, observing his soldiers waking up and leaving their tents, emptiness settled in his abdomen, eating his insides.
***
Mary rapped heavy metal knocker on familiar wooden doors. She watched with bated breath as the doors creaked open and revealed the abess herself. Mary dropped to her knees in joy and grasped abbess's arms, while the woman looked at her confused.
"Mother Wulfhild-" Mary stuttered "I came back! The heathens let me go!"
Mary watched with tears of joy blurring her vision, as old woman's eyes slowly cleared with recognition. The abbess remembered her!
"I knew Lord will bring me back to you, mother!" Mary continued, standing up. "I withstood the trial- Oh, how I missed my sisters!"
Beaming with joy, Mary then tried to step pass the abbess to enter the monastery, but her hand shot in front of Mary and blocked her way. Confused, Mary looked at the older woman.
"You want me to believe that you were kept alive by Lord's will, and not by devil's doing?" The abbess said, and only then Mary noticed that woman's face was far from kind.
"But mother Wulfhild, I held to my faith, no matter what heathens did. Never even once did I doubt our Lord." Mother Wulfhild didn't budge. "I must talk to father Cynebert, then," said Mary.
"Father is away. Upon hearing that the heathen army is coming back, and the one that had King's daughter, he immediately went to your father," the abbess paused, then grabbed the door handle and added, "We all saw you with an infant, while heathens were passing through."
Mary shook her head viciously. "No, mother Wulfhild, that's King's-"
"Of course it's from that Satan-"
"No, I mean, child's not mine-"
"Not only you produced Satan's spawn, but abandoned your offspring as well," the older nun said sharply. "Go back to your heathens. And pray for Lord's forgiveness." With these words, Mother Wulfhild firmly shut the heavy doors, leaving Mary staring dumbfounded at the tall walls of the monastery.
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