"There had been talk throughout the village," I said to Jón as I placed his night-meal on the table in front of him. I had cooked the last amount of fresh vegetables we possessed and boiled the sheep Jón had butchered for us in the fall. Winter had crept up on our village, surprising us with a layer of snow when we woke that morning. With the winds now chilling the bones of all, the men would soon go hunting in the forests for big game to keep their families fed, not daring to be out in their boats. "I am surprised you have yet to hear it."

Jón picked through his meal, studying his meal to avoid meeting my eyes. Rarely did he ever look at me, not even the handful of times we had joined. I knew I had regained the way I had looked before my village had been raided – my hair was now long and thick, my body no longer bony – I was lovely. Men in the village watched me from afar, but my husband still only had eyes for another.

"I had been visiting with Lára and the children today. Oddi is growing to be a wonderful boy." Jón did not acknowledge my talk of the babe. "Upon leaving, I heard two men speaking with their wives – they spoke of our marriage." I sat down across from my husband, shaking my head as I remembered their words. They had quieted when I drew near, but I had heard all that I needed to.

At the mention of our marriage, Jón looked up sharply, his jaw clenched in mid-chew. He swallowed before motioning with his hand for me to continue.

"They spoke of how I have yet to quicken." My voice dropped to barely a whisper as I looked into Jón's blue eyes.

"It is none of their concern of what happens in our bed," Jón replied, his voice gruff with anger.

"There is nothing that happens in our bed," I muttered, suddenly losing my appetite. "They spoke ill of me for not yet being with child. How do they know it is my fault? You could be the reason we have yet to be expecting a babe." I gave a small sigh and bit into a piece of sheep despite my lack of hunger.

I startled at the sound of the chair scrapping against the wooden planks of the floor as Jón abruptly stood. His goblet upset by the jolt, spilling the ale across the table. "I can assure you nothing in this situation is my fault." Giving me a withering look, Jón came around the table to stand next to me.

From this view, looking up at him, yet being so close, I could see a few grey hairs weaving through his beard. This surprised me, making him seem older than he truly was. Although he had begun to grow it after we were wed, he kept it trimmed short, not letting it grow longer than the base of his neck.

"I only need a son and I do not need a wife to give me him." Jón's voice was low, aiming to hurt me.

I pushed my seat away from the table and stood to my full height, looking my husband in the eye and placing a hand on my flat stomach. "I wish to have a child!" I cried, my anger slowly boiling over.

"It does not matter what you want." Jón's face now in front of mine and I could feel his warm breath on my cheek.

"I wonder if you can truly sire a child on a woman," I hissed, bringing my hand from my stomach, and raising it in the air.

Jón grabbed my wrist in a bruising grip before my palm could make contact with his cheek, causing me to cry out. He pulled my body to his suddenly and I lost my balance, falling into him. Jón took this moment of weakness to let go of my wrist and move his hands to the small of my back and the back of my head before laying his lips on mine in a forceful kiss.

Pushing my hands against his chest I was away from him long enough to inhale a deep, shocked breath; never had my husband kissed me. Jón took this moment to again press his lips to mine, this time also slipping his tongue into my mouth.

I dug my fingers into Jón's chest, intent on pushing him away before he let a moan rumble from deep in his chest and to my mouth. Breaking away from the kiss, I took the opportunity to bite down hard on Jón's bottom lip. Letting out a guttural growl, he gripped my upper arm and pulled me towards out bed.

Standing next to it, Jón pulled the brooches from my apron before ripping the top of my smock and pushing both garments down to my waist. For a brief moment I mourned the lovely yellow smock I had received as a morning gift before realizing that my breast were bared.

I brought my arm up to my chest, covering it from my husband's view. Even having been wed for a whole season, Jón had never seen my naked top half. Every time we had joined together, he would push up the bottom of my shift and if he did not, he would close his eyes against the darkness as he took his pleasure.

Just pushed away my arm and cupped one of my breasts in a large hand, giving it a surprisingly gentle squeeze. I let out a small, shocked mew, something I never expected my husband to draw from my lips. Jón brought his lips back to mine in a punishing, yet pleasurable, kiss. Something burned deep in my stomach, something my husband had never cause, but Pétur had.

Pushing me down on the straw stuffed bed, I looked up at Jón, knowing what was to come. Jón would enter me and within a few moments would take his pleasure and fall asleep. I watched through lowered lids as Jón pushed down his breeches, heat raging through me. I did not love Jón or even truly care for him, but he was a handsome man and I was a woman. Crawling on top of me, my husband quickly entered me, both of our moans joining as one.

My hands found Jón's shoulders, my fingers digging harder into his flesh with every thrust. Jón dipped his head, his breath coming in short hot bursts on my neck. My breast pressed against the rough material of Jón's shirt, intensifying the feeling inside of me.

Jón's lips brushed against the sensitive skin joining my shoulder and neck, causing me to shudder and cry out, my hands grasping at his skin. The large body on top of mine tensed before Jón let out a low animalistic groan as he spilled his seed deep in my womb.

Pushing himself up, Jón removed himself from my now slackening grip. Tiredness seeped through me as I vaguely felt the air on the exposed skin my husband has just warmed. My eyesight blurred as I watched Jón pick up his breeches from the floor, wondering when he would climb in the bed so we could sleep. My eyes drifted shut and I could her Jón say something as my mind wandered and I fell into a short, yet deep, sleep.

When my eyes opened, I was met with an empty room and the wind blowing strong outside of the house. Pulling up what remained of the top of my smock to cover my breasts, I was filled with shame. I had acted like a wanton and willingly gave myself to Jón. I pulled the thick quilt over my used body and allowed my tears fall from my eyes. Was the child I so desperately wanted worth all of the pain its father had caused me? I buried my head in the pillow and let out a scream as I recalled the words Jón had said before he left with nausea. I will use you as I please.

oOo

I woke in the morning to an empty house. Pushing myself into a sitting position, my bones popped and cracked and I groaned loudly. The spot next to me in the bed, Jón's spot, was untouched, showing that he had not returned during the night. The thought of him not being near me since our joining comforted me.

I rubbed my eyes which were still sore from the tears which had fallen the night before. Pushing away the quilt I slid from the bed and thought of the shame which had consumed me all through the night. The tattered smock still hung from my body the yellow looking waned and ugly. Standing I slipped the smock and my other garments from my body until I stood nude in the chilly room. Glancing over my shoulder I noticed the fire had gone out during the middle of the room.

I walked to the mirror and studied myself, disgusted by what I saw. Leaning close to it I could not decide if I looked worse or better than when I had first arrived. My hair was tangled and down from the crown style I had worn it in the night before. The dark circles under my puffy eyes made me grimace. I startled at the reflection of my arm. Looking away from the mirror and bringing my arm closer to my face, I examined the bruise from where Jón had grabbed me before bringing me to bed. It was already dark purple and you could clearly see where his fingers had gripped me.

Feeling helpless I placed my hands on either side of the washbasin and dunked my face into the cold water. The coldness of the water reminded me of the stream Magnús and I used to play in as children and almost had me gasping. The water bit at my skin, but felt refreshing and opened my mind from the groggy state of sleep. I kept my head submersed until my lungs burned for air then I finally came up for a breath.

The hair that had fallen into the basin stuck to my face and small droplets of water ran down my chin, falling into my chest. Pushing the hair from my face, I padded across the room to my clothing chests and threw the colourful smocks onto the floor until I found a smock at the very bottom that Lára had given me upon my arrival. I had trouble pulling it over my body as I had gone back to the weight I had held before I escaped the raid. Despite the tight fit of the smock, it was much more appealing to me than the smocks my husband had given me.

With my smock in place and my hair pinned into a braided crown, I grabbed the steel and flint from my pouch and crouched down next to the hearth. Striking the tools together I watched the kindle catch flame and soon the flames were leaping high. I stood and grabbed the yellow smock from the ground before tossing it into the flames. The wool fabric smouldered and blackened around the edges, slowly losing its lively colour. When the smell of the burning wool reached my nostrils, my stomach rolled, recalling the smell of burning hair when the village was burned. With a grimace on my face I wrapped my cloak around my shoulders and left the house.

The snow was now piled up next to the door, reminding me much of the day I had first arrived. A new layer of snow was already falling from the sky, bathing the world in bright white. I kept my head down to block out the snow and to keep my eyes from Jón's if he were to pass. Although there were no people in the streets footprints riddled the road. Looking up the road I could see the heavy smoke rising from the roof of Stefán's longhouse.

As I drew closer to the house, I could hear the children screaming wildly. My steps quickened as did my heart as my mind drew up the worst conclusion of what I would find behind the door. Pushing it open I sighed in relief at the sight that met my eyes.

Oddi lay in his basket, his small face red and a heartbreaking cry coming from his small lungs. Ingrid hugged Margrét's doll while the smallest girl sat on the floor, her face also red and tears rolling down her face. The two other girls, Analía and Birta, chased each other around the room screaming like the most fearsome of warriors. Lára stood at the hearth, stirring the pot of porridge, her jaw set and eyes staring straight ahead. Never had I seen the chieftain's house in such disarray.

When the door closed Lára looked up seeming to finally realize the chaos in her house. A fierce look came over the mother's face as she dropped her spoon and turned towards her children. Not knowing what was to come next, I walked further into the house and picked up Oddi, bouncing him on my hip.

Lára took her oldest daughter by the arm and tore the doll from her hands, giving her a swift smack on her bottom before telling her to leave the house. Then she gave the doll to her youngest girl and ushered her to the bed she and her husband shared, tucking her in tight and kissing her forehead. Next she took both of the other girls by the shoulders and pushed them towards the door, telling them that they would not be getting any food until they learned how to behave.

With Oddi now calm and the house void of any shrieking children, Lára took a deep breath and pressed a hand to her forehead. "They would never act this way if their father was present."

"Where did he go?" I asked, sitting Oddi back in his basket.

"He and Jón left early this morning to hunt. There is a rumour the forest is heavy with game." Lára's eyes were narrow as she looked at me. "Jón spent the night here. When we questioned him about it, he would not answer. Why?"

Shame once again filled me. "I suppose he took what he needed and left." I lifted my chin and tried to say the words as though they did not bother me, but my voice wavered at the end.

"Valdís, tell me what has happened."

A tear ran down my face causing me to clench my fists and silently curse myself. A hiccup escaped from me followed by a loud sob. Taking a step forward I threw myself into Lára's arms, clinging to her like one would their mother.

The other woman allowed me to comfort myself for a moment longer before holding me at arm's length. "You can confide in me."

"I allowed Jón to have me," I whispered. "I was no better than a concubine."

Lára gave a small laugh as I explained to her what had taken place the night before. "You had me believe something was truly wrong. Valdís, you responded as any wife would!"

"Should a wife feel so much shame after joining with her husband?" I roughly wiped away my tears and stood tall. "I do not love that man."

Again Lára let out a small laugh. "Not all wives love or even care for their husbands."

Tilting my head to the side, I wondered at the question brewing inside of me. "Do you feel any love for Stefán?"

The smile slipped from her face and was replaced by a sad look. "Stefán has always loved me. He is a good husband and good man. It is difficult not to return the love of someone who looks after you so." Shaking her head she picked up her youngest child and cuddled him to her thin body. "Yes, I do love him – him and all of our children." Never had I seen Lára look so vulnerable and motherly. "You will learn – not to love him – but to live with him."

"He told me he did not need a wife to get his son."

Shifting Oddi, Lára glanced at my stomach. "He will not be saying that when you quicken – and with what you have just told me, is should not be long."