Pain is what woke me up, not just in my back, thighs, or shoulders, but my ear. My ear cartilage felt heavy and inflamed. I wanted to tell Ivar, in the apprehension of infection, but it was fear and pride that kept me quiet. How could I ask my tormenter to heal my wounds? It didn't make sense; it was as ironic as it sounded.
I would just have to suffer through it.
"There is a village three miles from here," I heard a voice say. The voice was too loud. I buried my face deeper into Ivar's back.
"Good, a mile from the village, we dismount our horses and raid," Ivar called out, his back vibrating as he spoke. I wanted to moan with discomfort, but I held myself. I didn't want another ear injured.
It seemed forever before they crossed three miles. Ivar untied my hands from about his waist and climbed off, his hands coming around my waist and with considerable gentleness, lifted me off the horse. He grabbed my arm and led me and his horse to the nearest tree.
"Sit," he commanded, and I ungracefully slumped down as he wrapped the rope around my waist and wrists, then tying his horse to the tree.
"I won't be long," he said.
As if that was supposed to comfort me, I mentally scoffed. Ivar grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. His pale blue eyes were hard, and his mouth was set into a thin line.
It was all I could do to not cry again; my chin was already trembling on dangerous territory.
"Now listen here," he said softly "I will be back and then you can do your business."
Speaking of business, I really needed to pee. How long can I hold it in for? Just as I opened my mouth to tell him so, he turned and walked away with the rest of his group. All of them stealthily disappeared into the forest, in plain daylight. I looked about; it was just me, the provisions, and the horses, and a few people, slaved, tied to posts, guarded by the warriors left behind.
In my dream, that thankfully came to me to keep my mind off my baleful situation, I was selfishly wishing that one of the other men, or Ivar, decided that they wanted another girl so that I may have some company. But I wouldn't wish my circumstances upon anyone. It was a mistake now, for me to be grateful that Ivar decided to like me. I was still smarting and the pain in my ear didn't seem to have lessened.
Twenty-five minutes into the Vikings' absence, I heard faint bells and even fainter screams, then, after a while, all else fell silent.
I must have been sitting in maddening loneliness for what felt like forever, but, it must have been three hours. They had come back then. They had new provisions, two carts of gold, food, and fresh provisions, and a third cart of tree people; one an old man and two children, both were bloody-faced, young, and with wide, glassy eyes.
My eyes unwillingly sought out Ivar, who mingled for a bit with a few of his comrades. He then turned to me and sauntered over, his face cool and blank. Ok, psycho. He squatted down; his breaths were coming hard, from the adrenaline that was fading. His hand sought out my injured ear.
"I have brought a healer for you," he announced, as though that was supposed to impress me. But he didn't seem remorseful for his actions, it would have been more impressive. It was not even a start.
"You spared the children," I noted.
"They were the only children around," he shrugged, and I stared at him, incredulously, as though he was dumb. There were children in the other village too.
"You didn't spare the children from the last village," I pointed out bravely.
"There wasn't any," Ivar shrugged. I could have sworn I have seen children.
"Why are there not many children?" I asked. The raid must have been successful because Ivar was pretty indulgent with my questions.
"All the men are preparing for war. They do not stay in the villages. They go for the capital; that is where they will be," he said, sounding cynical, as though he found my observation quite odd.
"But then you will need more men," I pointed out.
"We will meet our reinforcements there," he assured me.
"What if you don't-" I caught myself, sucking in a harsh breath, I didn't want to say anything that would offend him. I stared at him wide-eyed as his lips quirked upwards.
"If we don't meet them, then we will all go to Valhalla," he shrugged.
I didn't say anything else.
Ivar stood up and walked towards the human cargo wagon, and harshly pulled out the old man, who stumbled along as Ivar dragged him. I mourned such a sight.
"See to her," Ivar commanded, the old man cowered as he fell on trembling hands and feet and crawled towards me. He seemed to be searching for my ailment.
Ivar grabbed my chin over the man and twisted my head, more roughly than was required.
"Her ear," he spoke harshly, and the old man whimpered.
"We will need some boiled water and clean that," the man said, visibly trembling.
Ivar shouted a brief command that I didn't catch in the general direction of what looked like a young squire.
"What else?"
"We will have to put it on once every few hours to help clean it. It shouldn't take too long to heal," the man trembled.
"Good," Ivar said, picking the man up by his arm and I forced myself to hold my tongue as he dragged him back to the wagon with the two children.
Ivar walked back to me and squatted down again.
"Why can't you be gentle?" I squeaked when Ivar pushed the old man. He whirled towards me and I realized the error of my words and hurried to amend. "He is old, he isn't as strong as you, please be gentle,"
A little flattery won't do anyone harm.
"What is your name?" he asked suddenly.
"Yasmeen," I answered with some confusion. It seemed odd now that I realized he didn't know my name, but I knew his.
"Yasmeen," he repeated, leaning forward, his lips almost touching mine and it was all it took to not recoil from him. "My tender-hearted little bird; I will be gentle as you ask, what is there to lose?"
I don't know how to answer that. It was theoretical, so I didn't answer him.
"Thank you," I added, closing the distance between our lips, giving him an inexperienced kiss of gratitude. I felt him chuckle under my lips. I leaned back. What is he laughing about? He could at least be a bit more gracious. There goes my first kiss. What was I even thinking?
"That is quite the gratitude there," he teased, his lips brushing my hair before he untied my waist.
"Come, you must be full to the brim with shit," Ivar certainly has a charming way with words. It effectively ruined whatever imagined moment we might have had. So crass, this man.
The thought of my stuffed bladder hit me, and I had to squeeze my thighs getting up so as to not spill over myself. How he knew I don't know, but I was grateful, underneath all the embarrassment.
