Viking Tribute

Chapter 30: A Slave's Life

For two more days I was assigned to milking. I had made some progress, but it wasn't enough. I was too slow. Furious, the servant in charge sent me back to the overseer.

I found him in the smoking house, inspecting the last catch of fish. He was a middle aged man, with grey streaks in his hair and beard, and a disfigured face from a wound that had cost him his left eye. At the best of times, he was scary.

That day was worse though, as he wasn't happy with me.

"What can I do with a useless thrall like you? I should punish you for your laziness!"

Ashamed I cast my eyes down. A cold shiver ran down my spine as they fell on the whip hanging from his belt. It was a thing of nightmare: thick, knotted strings ending with metal beads. They were the cause of the long scars on Mildred's back. They frightened me into begging for mercy. "Pray forgive me! I'm sorry, I had never done this before. I'll try harder, I promise."

He looked down at me, his mouth twisted in contempt. "You are lucky that Einarr Godi protects you. I don't know what he sees in you; you are quite ordinary, but he is the master here."

My brows shot up. Did Lord Einarr really forbade him to hit me or did he just forget to withdraw his previous instructions? Anyway, I wouldn't complain. I did my best to appear humble. "I can do the laundry..."

"Then that's what you will do, but only for the slaves' clothes. I wouldn't let you touch more valuable ones. And you will work in the kitchen. Can you at least manage this?"

"Aye, I can. Thank you!"

I bowed and ran towards the longhouse, stopping abruptly at the door. Wouldn't that bring me too close to my captor? For the last couple of nights I had resumed sleeping on my bench, waiting until he had retired in his room to lie down. The weather had become too cold for me to stay away from the fire, with the frost closing in. I was worried that being inside during the day would cause me to meet him.

As I walked in I could tell that my fears were unfounded. There was no sign of him. He must be training or touring his lands. The cook seems happy to get help and I was handed a basket of muddy neeps to wash. When I came back from the stream I offered to peel and dice them for the stew but he shook his head. "The maidservants will do this. Slaves cannot touch knives."

I nodded; I had forgotten my station. Aidan had been kind enough to extend his privilege to me, but here it was different. I had betrayed their master's trust. In their eyes, I was dangerous. The next basket was dropped into my hands and I went to work.

Days go fast when you are busy. From morning to evening I did nothing but walking to and from the river, my hands raw from brushing and wringing, my arms and back sore from carrying vegetables and soaked fabric. The water was warm but the cold air bit my damp skin, causing painful cuts in my knuckles. During the storms, I got drenched and battered by the wind. Then came the snow and I slipped a few times, falling on my bottom and bruising it.

Surprisingly I didn't catch ill again. Within a few weeks, the nausea receded. Yet I was exhausted. Many times during the day I felt an irresistible need to sleep, and I got into the habit of napping whenever I could.

With the frost I couldn't hang the clothes to dry in an open shed; they would have broken like glass. So I did what I had done before; I brought them to the steam room.

The laundry was usually done on Saturday, and it was a joyful moment where the women joked and laughed with the men who were bathing upstream. Which is precisely what I wanted to avoid. I tried to have everything done during the week, so that I could stay away from them, and him.