Comfort in the solace of two warm arms, the thrall yawned stretching happily. She forgot a man laid beside her as she roused him from his sleep. The woman squealed before clasping a hand over her mouth realising what she had done. “I’m sorry for waking you up early master.”

The word ‘master’ beaten in her skull to be repeated to Halle by the house servants lest she yearned for punishment.

Head bowed, the thrall did not know what to do. She felt as if she gravely sinned.

“No need to apologise, l needed to wake up early anyway.” Halle opened his mouth yawning like a tired lion.

His glance caught the sight of the thrall’s cleavage, his clothing too loose on the woman’s body. It did not pique his lust, still a man though and even worse, it was morning. Crotch met with a difficult challenge.

“Remove the tunic.”

“What?” The thrall’s voice went a higher note alarmed at the request.

Halle stood up near the woman and she closed her eyes tightly shut. His footsteps grew further past her and she opened one eyelid to see him at his closet. Clothes in many colours and others patterned with beautiful designs, he threw one towards her. It appeared smaller, fitting to be tighter around her frame than the loose tunic she wore.

She could not help but blush at her mistake of thinking such a deed.

“Thank you.” Embarrassed, she barely managed to whisper the words.

Removing the donned tunic, the thrall noticed her master turn his back towards her instead of watching. Abashed by thinking such a man would commit any sin, she lost her edge of caution towards Halle.

She whimpered quietly, positioning the tunic more suited for her frame, tightening the lacing.

A quick glimpse before turning away again, at first Halle saw bruises marking her back and then accidentally focused on her womanly features.

She carried a small bust, yet no man save for Halle would deny a chance to touch.

“Do the bruises hurt?”

Jumping at hearing her master’s voice, she stared at Halle’s back wearied.

“No l promise not to inconvenience you.”

“It is more of an inconvenience for you to lie to me, I’ll ask you one last time. Do the bruises hurt?”

“...Yes.”

Halle reached for an ointment on his table encased in a wooden box. With caution, he lifted the tunic from behind leaving part of it on the thrall. Cold ointment on skin made the young woman gasp and hiss feeling the sensation of her master’s rough hands rub medicine into the bruises.

“Apologies for looking, l heard you whimper and on instinct turned.”

“l should be the one thanking you.” Crimson splashed her flushed cheeks.

“There is no need for such words, I’m only following my mother’s teachings.”

“Your mother must’ve been a kind woman.”

“Very so, sometimes l ponder if she was too generous.”

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable as yesterday. They shared a night in bed together and he witnessed almost everything to see of her body. Cat claws holding her tongue, she wanted to ask for this man’s name but worried if she pushed the boundaries between thrall and master.

Halle noticed her jaw move, twitching as if it wanted to speak.

“What do you wish to ask?”

“...May l know of your name?”

“Halle Eriksson, I realise I’ve never asked for yours.”

“It’s Jehanne Belshaw, master.”

“There is no need to be formal with me, I prefer Halle. In front of the other servants Tove and Gro or my father, it’d be best if you call me master though. Else you may be beaten further.”

“Yes master—l mean Halle...If l may ask?” Jehanne fumbled with her fingers.

“Go ahead.”

“Where did you learn to speak langue d'oïl?”

Halle boasted, “From the many captured slaves on vikings, I’ve had two years to learn it to speak fluently. Writing is a different challenge l struggle with.”

He grimaced trying to evoke memories of Francia’s letters.

Jehanne grimly nodded as she’d expected, he learned from other thralls. Impressive for the Norseman to learn it in a matter of years but at a cost of someone’s freedom.

“I had once thought Norsemen were all scary monsters.”

Halle was unshaken by the comment, it irked him though he understood the reasoning behind it.

“Your words remind me of my new friend l met, Arne. He said we were untamed beasts, I’d like to think we are not all demons as you Christians proclaim.”

“If you aren’t demons then why do Norsemen bring death to Francia and every other kingdom?” Jehanne grumbled under her breath.

She smacked her mouth scared realising what she said, Jehanne grew too accustomed to Halle’s gentle presence too fast.

“There is no need to be afraid, if you were an old man then it’d be a different story.” Halle’s eyes smiled remembering Ulfberht.

He pondered if the elder was arguing with Agneli right now.

“Which nation has not brought down another for the price of thriving with wealth, it is in our nature as people to bring others down or so I heard from my grandfather.”

Crestfallen knowing his grandfather no longer lived, Halle’s glum tone carried his next words, “Before he passed away I asked him a similar question to why we go on vikings.”

“Do Norsemen raid for wealth?” Jehanne shuffled closer to Halle to hear an answer.

“It’s because like animals, we do so to live. You cannot blame a wolf for killing a boar, the same goes for a human killing another human. We are animals, sophisticated animals at best, murdering the weak to survive.”

“Can’t the Norsemen replace vikings with trade?”

“Only if it was that simple, it’s in our blood to raid. Has been for three hundred winters and summers.”

Halle stared at his hands cleaned of blood, a couple days ago dark crimson stained his fingers and nails.

“I had heard some of the Norsemen were converted to the Christian faith?”

Halle guffawed at Jehanne’s statement, “Even if most of us were to become Christians, we would still conquer the seas. Our king Harald Sigurdsson believes in your god, but you trapped here is proof that we see sins differently."

He met Jehanne's curious eyes. “It isn’t as if we don’t trade, but to stay afloat we need more than solely trading to satisfy our desires.”

Halle stood up, his wide back in all it’s glory for Jehanne to see.

“I don’t agree with my grandfather, but he was a wise man. I instead hold the belief we are still noble if we follow Odin’s rules.”

Jehanne asked, “Are they similar to the ten commandments?”

“I’ve heard of the commandments once. I wouldn’t bet on it, since killing is honourable if done not in secrecy.” Halle grinned.

Paling at the words. Jehanne responded, “That would be the heaviest of sins to kill another person.”

“Better for everyone to see than letting one be stabbed behind their back, is that not true?”

Halle took Jehanne’s trembles and silence as a no. Trying to relieve her subtle acts of fear that remained, he changed the topic.

“It’s a fine day for work, we’ll be heading out together.”

Jehanne pointed at herself confused. “Me with you?”

“Of course, today will be your first day as a thrall.”

“What does a thrall do?”

“Helps his or her master with every need and want, but for you? You just need to stand by my side unless you wish to be with the other servants.”

Jehanne definitely did not desire to be near Tove and Gro, they’d treated her worse than an animal. Punishing her every mistake with lashes marking skin flushed red in pain. Better to be near this Norseman who had yet to harm her.

“Please take me with you,” she submissively requested.

Halle exuberant to hear the words, knowing at least another person seemed to be not leashed with fear pulling them away from him.

“I planned to take you anyways, no matter what you said.”

Jehanne could only nod at his words, desolate at heart expecting the worst of tasks to handle.

Standing in a room with three men, one laughing at the shenanigans of his friend, while the other two men bickered aiming at each other's throats with shouts. This wasn’t what Jehanne expected.

Halle coughed into his hand settling his laughing fit. “Ahem may l hear what the problem is between you two.”

“This old man with sheep brains doesn’t understand me no matter how much l shout!” Agneli screamed. On a second glance, he noticed Jehanne standing beside Halle. “I see you’ve brought a woman for me this time.”

“Your dirty hands won’t touch her or I’ll off your head,” Halle smirked pretending to act like a king.

“Enough of your harmless threats already. I will say though, she is a beauty to the eyes.” Agneli ogled Jehanne without shame.

Ulfberht yelled seeing his saviour as well as captor, “Halle how am I meant to work with this loudmouth boy who doesn’t shut up!”

Jehanne’s pupils expanded to see another Frank, someone that spoke the tongue of langue d'oïl. Ulfberht was more shocked to meet a beautiful woman.

“Halle who is this, another thrall?” Agneli asked Halle.

“Yes, she’ll be helping me with anything l need.”

“Does this include lying about and doing nothing?”

“Your words hurt me Agneli, I’m helping by watching.”

Agneli sarcastically bowed mocking the man leaning on his home’s wall. “Apologies master Halle, but I’d rather you use your mouth to translate what I’m saying.”

“Can’t do.” Halle smirked seeing Agneli’s glaring eyes. “I can’t be here with you every day to translate each word, find a way to communicate.”

“You enjoy seeing me in torment don’t you?” Eyebrows twitching, Agneli knew the answer before his friend opened his big mouth.

“I might, why does it matter?” Halle shrugged his smug shoulders.

“What are both of you saying and why is this woman here?” Ulfberht was more confused than any poor soul.

Jehanne bowed towards the angry blacksmith with growing white hair.

“No need to bow to him, he is another thrall like you,” Halle spoke in langue d'oïl.

Ulfberht reached out to Jehanne’s soft palms meeting her eyes. “You’re from Francia?"

The senior stammered remembering something vital he had to say and quickly let go of her hands, “Wait, l have to tell the warrior something first.”

He pointed at Halle declaring, “Your friend needs to assist me in making this sword.”

Ulfberht looked ready to pummel Agneli in his own home.

Agneli stepped forth interrupting, “Halle you must stop this fool from wasting all my iron. He should assist me instead of trying to make the sword himself.”

“It appears to me you both do understand each other to some degree. Your stubborn pride stands between you two. Let's have a competition to see who can make the best knife,” Halle said in both West Norse and langue d'oïl.

“It’ll be an easy victory,” Both blacksmiths chorused aloud confidently.

“Let them be,” Halle said to Jehanne as she stared at the pair of smiths rushing to forge the knife first. “They’ll be finished in a day or two.”

Agneli was reminded of something as he rushed to forge a knife. “Halle l finished polishing the amulet. Catch!”

Halle caught it with care, he smiled seeing his mother’s possession regaining its lustre of shining silver. Marching out of Agneli’s home, Halle stopped to hear his thrall speak.

“I could...never mind.” Jehanne was quick to close her mouth.

“Tell me what you were going to say.” Halle placed the amulet under his tunic, he did not ask but commanded Jehanne to answer.

Struck with shivers reaching her back, fear gripped her inside the space of her beating chest. “I could...help them understand each other's words.”

Halle questioningly raised an eyebrow. “How?”

“I’m quick to learn languages, l know how to write and read. My father used to be a trader and l would help with some of the dealings when l was young before he passed away.”

“How fast do you believe you can learn the Norse language?”

“One year.” Jehanne glanced to see Halle's quiet expression showing no emotion.

“No one year is too long,” She mumbled to herself. Scared that Halle may have been disappointed in her skill, Jehanne counted with her fingers and then answered, “Eight months.”

Slowing she shortened the time limit till it reached six months. Seeing Halle not respond at all, Jehanne apologised, “I’m sorry if I’m of no use. I won’t speak again.”

“Do not apologise, l was merely stunned with your words.” Halle scratched at his head slightly flustered. “I did not mean to drag out the silence.”

He blushed, remembering how he boasted saying he learnt langue d'oïl in two years. Jehanne proclaimed she could learn old Norse in six months.

“Why were you surprised, if l may ask?”

“It’s surprising to know there’s someone that can learn languages faster than me. My Grandfather always said there would be someone greater than you, l wonder now how many great warriors could defeat me.”

Halle gazed into the horizon posing clear skies of summer, winter yet to take it’s holding on Noreg or the Scandinavian seas.

“But you’re a warrior, lt is my trade that allows me to learn languages fast,” Jehanne said.

Halle responded, “I am still the son of a jarl, It appears to me I require more experience. Maybe another viking somewhere else in the distant seas will help me to understand my grandfather’s words more.”

“I could tell you about other places you may have never travelled to, instead of you viking out into unknown territory.” Jehanne hoped to see no more enslaved, captured or raided by Halle.

“I will take that as a promise Jehanne.”

The thrall blushed lightly hearing her name being called out, “Yes master.”

“Call me Halle, we’re alone it is fine.”

“Yes...Halle.”

Seeing this Norseman’s bright smile of white teeth. Jehanne could hear her heart beating faster not in fear, but another emotion she had yet to experience with another. Sealed far in the depths of her mind, lingering feelings blossomed slightly with the gentle rain of Halle’s kindness.

Nearly one summer and winter had passed by. Faster than you would expect in the times of Norsemen with the number of jobs they’d have to do: keeping livestock fed, trading and maintaining a stable flow of income. For the lone warrior, boredom encapsulated him in its tight hold, reigning him down with a need of excitement. Luckily Halle had his thrall to keep him company.

They practised together speaking in West Norse, as Jehanne focused to learn how to write and read, whilst in exchange Halle would hear of Jehanne’s travels to distant lands. Halle could travel only so far past the Scandinavian seas, the oceans near Francia’s borders were as distant as he raided. Jehanne of Frankish blood, on the other hand, was granted access to see Francia’s beauty from the northern region and southern areas. She’d ventured to even the Byzantine empire. Her father, a trader, worked his way up to a merchant before passing away leaving all his wealth to be inherited by his lone daughter.

Not wanting to disappoint her father’s hard work, she tried her best to maintain his relationship with clients, exchanging goods over the seas. The ocean was not kind to man or woman, luck ran low when Jehanne encountered the Dane raiders. That’s how she ended up here beside Halle, who now owned her life within his grasp.

“Tell me, were the Vangarian guards powerful?” Halle asked as they strolled to Agneli’s home full of iron and forged weapons.

Eastern remnants of the Roman Empire, known as the Byzantine empire in medieval times possessing fierce mercenary warriors. Hired Norsemen that fought for one of the most powerful lands, which influences the landscape of Russia and its capital, ‘Constantinople’ existing in Turkey today. Swedish Norsemen such as Rus served the Vangarian guards mostly, but there were some exceptions; Harald Sigurdsson served in the Byzantine empire before he became king of Noreg.

“If l was forced to choose who was scarier between you or one of the Vanguarian guard’s warriors, I’d run away instead.”

They both chuckled in good humour, even if the words struck at Halle slightly when he’d treated Jehanne without the authority of fear, but gentleness. He wanted to prove the birth of fear for Norsemen that perceived them all to be barbarians was a misconception. When in truth, they upheld honour more valiantly than any other kingdom, it was an uphill battle worthy of challenge and mere entertainment.

Halle understood there were barbarians under the name of Norsemen, but to say there were none from Francia’s guards and knights inflamed his bottled anger. The Norsemen were no crueller in execution, each nation had its personal inhumane methods of death. To die from falling down into a pit of snakes, to die from amputations of limbs and public mutilation of the body. No lands were safe from the pain of torture.

Jehanne stared at the distant sun, her feet dragged further behind Halle.

“Do you miss home?”

The question startled her, she caught herself lost in the realm of thought, reminiscing life again in Francia.

“Yes. If I’ll be honest.”

“Are the house servants still treating you bad?”

Jehanne shook her head no, she’d grown accustomed to Tove and Gro’s stares of contempt including lectures of disobedience.

Halle glanced in the same direction his thrall stared deeply to, “You’ll be able to return home when Ulfberht finishes the sword. He’ll most likely help you get back on your feet with the amount of wealth he keeps boasting on about.”

“Do you not need me master?” Jehanne jested happily in Halle’s presence.

Only alone, or when in tensed moments did the emotions akin to fear become apparent for Halle to see within her. Eyes can be deceiving though, and as perceiving as Halle could be, he’d mistaken the woman’s nervous habits of fumbling with her fingers as something else. Something he naively missed, a maiden’s heart.

They walked openly in public where couples showed their passion for each other in their longing gaze. Halle and Jehanne weren’t lovers but master and thrall, yet the boundaries had blurred for one of them over time.

“I do not wish to bind anyone to me when l may die an early death,” Halle said.

“Don’t say that master.” Jehanne frowned, showing the time between them had fostered kinship.

“It’s true for every shaman-warrior.”

“But you're the son of a jarl, not an Ulfhednar.”

“Bitter words to hear, yet nonetheless true. I may have been born with noble blood, but at heart, l breathe with lust for blood.”

“You sound as if you’re an animal.” Jehanne giggled into her fair hands.

“Well, my spirit animal is a wolf.”

Halle could not help, but notice her hands which had yet to become rough with work. Women and men in Noreg learnt labour from young helping or fighting, Jehanne’s untainted hands were bewitching art to the warrior who’d only been curious about the sword.

Losing his focus into the Jehanne’s contagious laughter. Halle was reminded of the viscount son Eudes during his viking with Arne, who had piercing pupils matching that of a hawk. His Dane comrade in raiding had taunted the man for falling in love with a servant. Not sure if he was sane, Halle had never desired such fickle emotions.

“Master?” Jehanne interrupted his thoughts spinning dusty webs.

Halle flustered at her callings, “Yes—did you say something?”

“I asked when will you be raiding again once winter is finished?”

“I do not know, why?”

Snow already passed for summer to come again where Halle’s punishment would soon be lifted.

“I just hope that no more would have to live in suffering because of it,” Jehanne stated.

“Everyone suffers from the moment we are born, it is how you perceive it and how you conquer it.” Halle continued, “Do you believe l would be barbaric if l would join another viking?”

“...Yes, that’s why l hope you would not. Don’t you wish to prove that Norsemen aren’t?”

They’d argue on the topic on many occasions.

“Vikings are a way for survival.”

Jehanne rebuked, “But at the cost of another.”

“Your clothes were at the cost of an animal's life, everything is a matter of giving and taking.” Jehanne wore clothes skinned from cattle with its fur kept intact.

Further away from the main part of the town, closing onto Agneli’s home, they dropped titles and referred to each other by name. If anyone had seen this in town, they’d be startled to see a mere thrall speak to her master in such a manner. This was allowed as Halle did not care for ranks and titles, he’d rather get to know the person he spoke to on eye-level or more accurately from below.

Sadly for Jehanne, she had to look up to argue with Halle, as he stood a head taller than her.

“A human life is of more value,” Jehanne said.

“I don’t deny that, but I wouldn't blame a hungry beast for attacking me. Would you?”

“But you always claim Norsemen aren’t beasts!”

“And yet you do and for that l will argue against your—”

Their conversation halted as once more, as usual, screaming roared in the blacksmith's home.

Jehanne sighed, “It seems my assistance is required.”

Quietly she took a sneak glance at Halle, to whom always noticed the stare.

“What is it?”

“You don’t always have to walk me to Agneli’s home,” blushed Jehanne timidly.

“What do you mean? l must check on these two fool’s progress on my blade and besides, I’m extremely bored.”

The words were half-truth and half-lie, Halle simply found his steps always beside Jehanne as of late, he never grew tired speaking with this woman. Their statuses may have been more disparate than water and fire, but they found each other growing closer with the combination of conflicting opinions.

Clouds of steam, passion sprouted from the polar opposites of elements blending to form something new, unspoken and forbidden amongst the rankings of the 11th century.

Halle banged his large hands onto the door, causing the walls to rattle upon the warrior’s fierce beating.

“Thank goodness you’re here.” Agneli smiled, opening the door but frowned seeing Halle’s face. “Oh it’s you again, where’s that thrall of yours?”

Jehanne stepped out from behind Halle’s huge frame that concealed her. “Good morning Agneli.”

“It’s always good to see you Jehanne.” The Norse blacksmith murmured under his breath, “It'd be much better if l didn’t have to see this brute here.”

“I heard that.” Halle glared.

Agneli sneered, “Of course you did, you and your Ulfhednar hearing.”

“Do Ulfhednars have good senses?” Jehanne asked, she and Halle never talked about his natural talents.

“They have the best senses, they're almost like wolves sniffing and hearing everything. Even if Halle isn’t an Ulfhednar, he might as well be.”

“You exaggerate Agneli, they can only imitate a wolf’s senses. Nothing more and nothing less,” Halle smiled hearing Agneli state he was worthy of being titled one of Noreg’s fiercest champions.

“You might as well turn into a wolf Ulfhednars can do that right?” The blacksmith bantered.

Halle wanted to smack the back of his friend’s head, he refrained from doing so in front of Jehanne. “That is a myth, legend amongst folk tales. Besides even if it were true, l am not a true Ulfhe–.”

Ulfberht shouted, “Where is Jehanne! Help me explain to this pig what he’s done wrong.”

Agneli’s eyebrows furrowed as he yelled back, “Shut up you old man!”

Jehanne giggled before stepping into the house to help the blacksmiths forge Halle’s sword.

Agenli and Halle, still standing in front of the door, watched Jehanne kindly ask what was wrong. Calming the panting man that bordered on the lines of old.

Halle’s eyes softened on the scene, he watched carefully over his thrall. Leaning his behemoth of a body against the wall peacefully. Agneli did not mistake the warmth from his friend’s glance and inquired curiously, “You’ve changed.”

“How so?” Halle’s eyes were still focused on Jehanne.

“You're not as starved to chase after battles on sea and land.”

“I've grown tired of them and besides I’m forbidden to go viking.”

“The ‘Halle’ l know wouldn’t care about his father’s words. What’s got you trapped here?”

“It is of my own will that I’m staying.”

“Is that so, or is it that thrall of yours that’s got you slithering around her finger like Loki's snakes,” Agneli whispered to Halle.

“You dare say such a thing, l should behead you where you stand,” Halle answered with the most serious face.

“Enough with your old jokes, you would’ve done so already when we were kids if you had the guts.” Agneli continued, “Are you in love with her?”

Halle paused before saying, “No, you know of my status. A thrall and the son of a jarl can never have such feelings for each other.”

“What about a freed thrall becoming a karl.”

“My father would never accept it, but it does not matter in any case. I don’t see Jehanne in that way.”

Agneli asked, “Would your mother have accepted it?”

“I do not know,” Halle touched at his mother’s amulet that laid atop his chest. “But l know for myself that l do not wish for such desires or else I would already have a woman by my side.”

‘Liar’, Agneli thought to himself. He spoke trying to rile up the warrior.

“Then offer Jehanne to me. l think I’ve fallen in love with her looks.”

“No,” Halle responded immediately, he was immensely possessive of anything that belonged to him. Whether it be a person or object he would never let them go, he’d been traumatized letting go his mother’s hands.

“Why not? You don’t love her and besides l used to be a thrall like her, we’re a perfect match, better than Thor and Sif.”

Thor and Sif were Norse gods known to be married. Their conversation was interrupted as Ulfberht screamed at Agneli to come.

“I should put a rag in that old man’s mouth to shut him up,” Agneli sighed.

The Norse blacksmith spoke with the Frankish blacksmith, and finally Jehanne translated their words before calling Halle over.

“They’ve finished your sword, but Ulfberht is saying there are still flaws within the blade,” said Jehanne.

Nodding, Halle strolled over to the crafted sword.

“I’ll be testing it.”

Ulfberht tried to stop Halle, but Agneli told the old man to let him test the blade.

“But it’s not ready yet.” Ulfberht reached for Halle’s arms to halt him in fear of damage to his third craftsmanship in Noreg that took six weeks to forge.

Too late, Halle grabbed the blade and swung it cautiously, he saw chainmail armour standing upright on the wall of Agneli’s home. He stabbed at it with all his weight transferred to the point of the sword. Hips twisting in tangent with waist, the blade flexed bending upon impact.

It stayed in the chainmail before being repelled, not piercing as Halle held the blade. “The taper of the blade needs to be thinner, there needs to be less bend, fix it.” He threw the blade to Ulfberht’s hands and the master blacksmith stumbled with the sword.

“What’s his problem?” Ulfberht asked.

“Should l go with him?” Jehanne worried.

“No, let him go. He just needs time to breathe.” Agneli’s eyes never left his friend’s back that grew smaller in the distance.

He thought that Halle was never a man of jealousy, grinning foolishly Agneli stole a glance at Jehanne. He wondered what made this thrall special in the eyes of such a man that never desired anything but his sword. That did not mean he did not see the beauty and shine of this woman’s grace, Agneli meant every word when he said he loved Jehanne.

“Let's repair the blade and improve it before Halle damages it again,” said Agneli.

Ulfberht scolded, “The sword wouldn’t have been damaged if you didn’t let Halle use it.”

Agneli looked to Jehanne and asked desperately, ”Can you tell the old man to shut his rat mouth.”