Chapter Fifty-eight

Enid's yarn twisted on the spindle, turning and knotting until it was a big clump and Enid sighed. She should have been watching, she knew that, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the Princess, not after what Ivar had said. Most of Enid's days were spent here at this table, with these women and Princess Gro, and yet, she knew nothing about her. The woman only smiled, listening to the others talking or stepping in to teach when it was needed, she didn't even spin or weave herself.

Enid leaned back in her chair, digging her fingers through the yarn and pulling the clump free. How could she ask everything she wanted to? How could she get this woman to open up and say something that actually mattered?

"Is it true that Erik will get married after Jul?" Freya asked, her voice so soft, her fingers trailing her work on the loom.

"Yes," Gro nodded, grabbing her cup from the table and taking a sip. "Knut wants to have the wedding sooner rather than later."

"Erik doesn't?" Freya asked, turning to study Gro out of the corner of her eye, and Enid saw it then, how much Freya looked like Ivar, how much those little eyes saw though she was still so young.

Gro laughed lightly, her cup tap, tap, tapping at her lips as she stared at the girl. "Why are you asking me, Freya? You can ask him yourself."

Enid watched that colour rise to Freya's cheeks, watched her jerk her head and stare at her work in front of her with eyes that didn't see.

"I didn't mean it like that," Freya whispered, "It's just…" she turned back then, suddenly so small, suddenly so young. "Do you think he loves her?"

Gro laughed again, putting down her cup and holding her hands out for Freya to take, and then Freya stood in front of her, her head bowed, her cheeks pink and her shoulders only growing stiffer and stiffer.

"I understand why you're asking that," Gro smiled. "Everyone knows how much your parents loved each other, but it's not the same for every marriage."

"It's not?" Freya asked, her head rising, a sadness springing to her eyes.

"No, sometimes you have to think about other things in life," Gro nodded. "My son is doing what's best for Knut and for everyone here at Bergen."

"But doesn't that make him sad?"

Enid saw what Freya was doing then, how she made herself seem even younger, even smaller, how she stared out with eyes that shone so brightly in the dim candlelight. Enid had to bow her own head then, fighting that grin that wanted to break out on her lips and give Freya away.

"No," Gro shook her head. "My son loves us. Our happiness is his happiness."

"But don't you want him to have a wife that he loves?"

Enid's eyes flicked so carefully, lingering on the woman's face as she fiddled with the yarn on her spindle.

"Of course, I do," Gro smiled, squeezing Freya's hands in her own. "And I think that they'll grow to love each other in time. I did with Knut. And love isn't everything, Freya, especially when you have people you are responsible for. My son understands that and he knows what he has to do. Don't worry," she squeezed Freya's hands again. "Erik will take good care of all of you. Bergen is his home and you are all his family and he loves you just as much as I do."

Enid watched that heat rise to Freya's cheeks, watched her shoulders rise and rise and this time she knew it was for real. Gro laughed, a laugh that was light, a laugh that was warm, and then she let Freya's hands go.

"Erik is too old for you, Freya," Gro said.

"I know that," Freya snapped, but Gro laughed again, grabbing her cup from the table and tapping it to her lips.

"But that's only because you're still so young," she said then. "Men are slow, Freya. Most of them stay children until they get married and some of them don't even become men then. My son is smart but he's not wise. Maybe he will be by the time you become a woman." she shrugged. "Things change. They're changing all the time. Who knows what the gods have in store for any of us."