Freyas Saga Ch. 09

Freya sat still, her eyes closed, listening as Sophy spoke softly into her ear.

"What I never thought would happen," said Sophy, "was what actually did happen. Because now that you've been broken, just a little bit, I can't do that to you. I may not be very moral, but I have a vocation, and you're not my lover. You're in my care."

Freya hung her head.

"It's not easy to admit, is it?" said Sophy. "It's hard to confess that you need help. But you need it, and that's why you sought me out. Do you think I put us in this room and took our clothes away because I wanted us to make with the fun?"

Freya gave the faintest smile. Sophy cackled.

"I knew it," she said. "But no. It's to make us honest with each other. I don't think it's so easy to tell lies when you're naked with someone. And god help me, Aelfrethe, ever since I met you, you've been a pain in the ass to me, but I've grown fond of you. And I can't do that to a friend."

Sophy sat back and crossed her legs at the ankle and hugged her knees and regarded Freya. Freya looked so crestfallen that Sophy had to cover her own smile with her hand.

"You don't even know me," she pointed out. "You think of me as that woman who arranged whores for your men. And I offer you my friendship, and still you think of me as just someone you might be able to fuck. So you can find out what it's like."

Freya flushed and lowered her eyes.

"Don't be ashamed," Sophy said. "I don't want you to feel ashamed. God damn it, Aelfrethe, you think I don't know my own skill? How do you think I got this job?"

Freya looked up again. She moved back and sat against the wall and made herself comfortable. Sophy smiled, stood up and went to the door. She rattled the slot, and when someone came she gave a brief order in a language Freya didn't know. Then she waited, and a moment later a bowl of fruit was pushed through the slot. Sophy took it, selected an orange, and tossed it to Freya, who caught it one-handed.

"There's no reason for us to starve," said Sophy, smiling, and she sat back down again on the stone floor, crossing her legs. She began to peel the orange.

"I was a milkmaid," she said simply. "If you can believe it. I was a milkmaid in Finnmark. Yup. That was going to be my life. I was a daisy-fresh maiden. And then the Moors came. And they slew my father and my brother, and they raped my mother, and they raped me. And one of them took me for his wife."

Freya sat opposite Sophy, slowly peeling her own orange, listening.

Sophy tossed the peel in the corner and split her orange into two. She extracted a single segment and popped it into her mouth.

"He was a bad man, Aelfrethe, my first husband" she said. "He treated me very badly. I mean, very badly. I was never safe. All day, every day. I was at his mercy. I tried to get used to it. I could not."

Freya watched Sophy, her own orange forgotten in her hands.

"And so it went very badly between us," Sophy went on. "I was not rebellious. I submitted to him, every time. I had no option, I can't fight, I'm crap at fighting, believe me. These hands were not made for punching people." She smiled and shook her head, rolling her eyes at the memory.

"And we went south," she went on, "and in due course we ended up in this city. And by this time, my husband hated me. I mean, he hated me. He hated that I could not even pretend to enjoy him. I longed to die. I saw no other escape from the life he had made for me.

"And then we came here, to this house. He came here to find a girl who would let him fuck her in whatever hole he wanted but not weep pitifully while he was doing it. I came to await his pleasure and to sit in the hall and be a good wife.

"And then a couple of the girls started talking to me. They were so kind to me, Freya! I was astonished. I'd thought they would be hard-faced and cruel, but they praised my pale skin, and my pink cheeks, and my blonde hair, and they said I had a lovely smile and a good healthy body, and they told me that I should take pleasure in my beauty, and not be ashamed of it. I listened to them, and after a while I realised that I had made friends.

"When my husband had had his fun he came and he told me to go with him, and I told him I would stay here. I would stay and work in the kitchen, if I had to. I told him I no longer wanted to be with him. He called me a godless barren cunt, but he was happy to abandon me here. The girls took me in and put me to work here, first as a servant. Then, later on, they let it be known that I had ... assets, which were valuable to the company, and I had to put them to work. But first, I had to meet the Boss."

Sophy threw Freya a meaning look.

"So, what do you think, Aelfrethe? I was shitting myself. The same way I shit myself every time I know you are coming here. The Boss was legendary. His temper was legendary. So maybe he wasn't an unstoppable killing machine like you, but I was fucking frightened."

Sophy popped another bit of orange into her mouth.

"So I went up to meet him. He was a big guy. A Moor, like my first husband. Quite chubby. He was polite, though. He knew my name. He knew where I'd come from. He knew how I'd got here. He was warm."

Sophy looked at Freya.

"He was unusual," she said, with emphasis. "He said, Sophy, what do you want to do? I said I wanted to go home to my family. He said, I'm truly sorry, but your family is dead. I said, Yes, they are. He said, Then, let us be your family. We like you and we want to look after you, but you do understand that if you want us to do that, there are things you must do in return? I said, You mean, fuck men? He said, Yes, very likely, but it doesn't have to be as bad as all that. He said, We have been doing this for a long time, and we understand how it works. We look after our own. And if you come to work with us, we will look after you. I said, What choice do I have. Because I assumed that they would tell me I had none."

Sophy took two more bits of orange and chewed them, looking at the ceiling.

"He said, Look, I don't care. I have enough girls. But the girls like you. They want you. And if they want you, that's good enough for me."

Sophy shrugged.

"So I said Yes. And the more I did it, and the more I listened to the other girls, the more I realised that if you knew what you were doing and you had a good organisation, you didn't have to worry about the things most girls doing this job worried about. I loved the girls because they had been so nice to me, so I tried to help them, and the more I tried to help them, the more they tried to help me. And Munaf, the Boss, he soon saw that I was running the place as much as he was. And he was grateful. So he got less involved, and I got more, until I was the manager and he was just the owner. And then one day he said, Sophy, you are the smartest girl here, will you marry me?"

Sophy tore apart the remaining half of the orange and put a piece in her mouth.

"I said to him, Munaf Bunafashazir, are you fucking kidding me? You are my pimp. Why the fuck would I want to marry you?"

Sophy looked at Freya, while chewing her orange.

"He said, Sophy, this is shit, but what do you want me to do? I own this place, you run this place, there will always be a need for a place like this. But if I close it all down, you and the other girls are out of a job. I'm not saying that this is wonderful, but we make a living, and if any of the girls get hurt we make sure that whoever did it gets hurt worse."

Sophy sucked on a piece of orange and looked pensive.

"I tried to think of an answer and I couldn't. He told me that if we got married, and anything happened to him, the business would pass to me, and he couldn't think of anyone better for it to go to. So I said yes. We got married. I was twenty-three. And he was lovely, Aelfrethe, in his way. He was kind and thoughtful and I was glad I had married him."

Sophy chewed the piece of orange and swallowed it.

Freya waited for her to continue, and when she didn't, Freya sucked on her own piece of orange and whispered "What happened?"

"Oh," said Sophy, "he died. He had a big heart, but it was weak. He ate too much. He was kind, though."

Freya sat and watched Sophy, who absently popped another piece of orange into her mouth.

"And I got the business," Sophy said, sitting upright again, "and I turned it around. Munaf had this dream that one day, this would be more than just a whorehouse, but he was too lazy to make it happen. So I made it happen. With the girls, of course."

Sophy swallowed the last piece of orange and stretched, luxuriously.

"People think I'm this magic lady who made this place into a house of wonder. It's all shit, Aelfrethe. I would have lived out my days here and not made a peep if the girls hadn't told me to step up and speak for them. Because I'm pretty and I can speak nice. I lend this place class. And sure, I'm not stupid. But I run this place for me and my girls. And I am beholden to no one. Which is why I can afford to spend a few hours in a stone cell with a broken little rich girl. I have made this place so it can be something more than just a place where guys fuck. But believe me, it was hard won."

Freya sat, silent. Sophy eyed her.

"If you have me here," Sophy said, "it's because I choose to be with you. I sometimes think, Aelfrethe, that you don't realise that the nice stuff in life costs money. And, I don't want to shame you. I just want you to know."

Freya sat, her hands folded in her lap. After a long pause, she looked up at Sophy.

"Your first husband," she whispered.

"Yes," said Sophy, puzzled.

"Tell me his name," Freya said, "and I will seek him."

Sophy rose to her feet and, to Freya's astonishment, reached out and smacked Freya on the forehead.

"Oh, Aelfrethe!" she exclaimed. "For fuck's sake! You are not listening!"

Freya looked up at her, hurt and confused.

"I don't want revenge on my first husband," Sophy said, exasperated. "I want you to see where you are in this chain. Do you see?"

She slapped Freya on the head once more, and then hung back, nervous and chastened. Freya, sitting on the stone floor, stared up at her.

Then Freya squinted, and thought, and then she nodded, ashamed, bowing her head.

"Yes," said Sophy quietly, "you see? It's not about that. It has to do with men and women."

Freya nodded.

"Honestly, Freya," Sophy said, "I won't say you haven't come far. But you truly have a long way to go."

Freya stared glumly at the stone floor. Sophy moved over to her and put her arms around Freya's neck.

"Don't worry," she said. "I have faith in you. But don't you see how much you need to change?"

Freya looked up at her, and held up her hands, and opened her mouth to say something, and no words came, until she helplessly let her hands drop and fought back the tears that Sophy could tell were lurking behind her eyes.

Finally, after a long moment in which she avoided Sophy's gaze, Freya rubbed her eyes and grabbed Sophy's wrists.

"I am Freya Aelfrethe," she gasped. "Why can I not be her?"

"But look where it's got you, my love," said Sophy quietly, stroking Freya's head.

Freya closed her eyes, and her expression didn't change, but the tears spilled out from her closed eyelids while she sat, motionless and silent.

Finally she opened her eyes and blinked, and Sophy hugged her, feeling for the first time the power in Freya's upper body and arms.

"I don't know what you have to do," Sophy whispered in her ear, "but I know it's something. Do you remember when you first came to me, weeks ago, what we talked about? Please, Freya, don't do what those others did. Please don't burn yourself to a cinder because you couldn't change. There has to be another way and if anyone can find it, why not you, hah?"

Sophy said it as a joke, but she found herself clutching Freya the way a drowning person clutches a helpful sailor. After a long moment, they disengaged and sat with their legs intertwined, facing each other.

"So," said Sophy, "are you in any way reassured?"

Freya paused, and shook her head no.

"Do you feel that I did my best?"

Freya nodded yes. Sophy threw up her hands.

"Then that's all I can do. Let us get dressed and get back to the world."

She stood up and went to the door.

***

Outside, it was noontime and Five's stomach was rumbling. Freya washed her hands at the crock just inside the door of the House and stood shaking the water off them.

"Can we get something to eat?" Five said. "I mean, if you're hungry, lady?"

Freya smiled, patted him on the shoulder and nodded. They set off at Freya's usual brisk pace, Five thinking.

They entered the first clean-ish inn they found, and Five ordered for them, a jug of small-beer and some sort of nameless and slightly unnerving stew which the landlord urged them to try. It was spicy and had a good flavour, but Five didn't like to think what was in there. But he was so hungry that when he found something hard in his mouth and spat it out, and it turned out to be some sort of beak of a fowl, he only hesitated for a moment before going back to eating. He was glad to see that Freya was eating too. Some days she ate very little.

At last he pushed his bowl aside and had a gulp of the thin, bitter beer. It wasn't bad for small-beer. At least you didn't have to chew it.

"Lady," he said, "can I ask you a question? I mean, I can guess answers. I don't want you talking."

Freya looked up at him and nodded.

"So you've got that girl as a friend of ours, and there's the scholar lady, and Mistress Sophy seems to think she's a friend of ours now, and there's that bloke from the place ..."

Freya nodded.

"Are you building some sort of company?"

Freya paused, then nodded.

"What for? Are we going back to Hargest? Are you minded to see Sir Ulf?"

Freya hesitated.

"I mean, surely, that's what you want, isn't it? Revenge?"

Freya stared at him blankly for a moment.

"Why wouldn't you?" he said, confused. "You've got to get something, or it's not fair."

Freya stared at the table, then looked up at him thoughtfully. His heart panged that she wouldn't confide in him.

"You can trust me, you know," he said.

She looked him in the eye for a moment, then lowered her gaze again and remained silent.

"Oh, come on," he said, hating the whiny tone creeping into his voice, but he felt affronted that once again she was showing him so little trust, giving him so little to go on. "You listen all day to that scholar lady, and I don't know what you're talking about, but you won't tell me your mind. I don't know what I'm good for. I feel like you're just carrying me along because you need someone to sweep up, and you feel loyal to me 'cause I rescued you, but other than that you think I'm nowt but a big load."

She shook her head no.

"There must be something I can do," he said. "If I knew your mind, I could speak for you. If there was some way of getting what you want to say into my head without you having to talk. Otherwise, what am I good

for?"

She shook her head no again, and closed her eyes wearily for a moment.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't mean to bother you with all these questions."

Freya opened her eyes again, looking down at his arms on the table. Then she frowned and reached across the table and poked his arm.

"What?" he said.

She extended her fingers and put them around his forearm. Her hands were large and calloused and she could touch her thumb to her fingers in a ring around his wrist without too much difficulty. He looked at his weak, toneless arm and looked at her, and she shook her head disapprovingly.

"Well, no, I'm not like you," he said. "Why? Is that something you'd want me to be good at? Fighting?"

She nodded. He thought about it for a moment.

"I've never been good at it," he said. "But I suppose I could try."

He trailed off, feeling weak and half-hearted. It was his turn to stare at the table. It was engraved with names. MESSANIA. GUNFRIED 45-7. AMLETH AND GUNRUN 4EVA. He felt her eyes on him. He urged himself to say it.

He looked up, and leaned across the table and spoke quietly, so that none else could hear, not that there was anyone else in the place.

"What's it all for, though?" he said. "Are we going to revenge you? If so, on who?"

She looked back at him, patient, her dark eyes unblinking.

"If not," he said, "what are we doing here? What d'you suppose our people think happened to you? Do you want them to know you're alive, or do you not want them to? I feel like we're just marking time. Waiting for things to happen."

She opened her mouth, coughed, swallowed and grimaced. She looked around, got up and walked over to the fire. She picked up a bit of charcoal and looked all over the inn, and then stepped outside. A moment later she came back with a bit of paper, and returned to their table. It had a picture on one side, some cartoon lambasting the town elders. She turned it over to the blank side and wrote in as small letters as she could make with the charcoal.

I AM NOT READY

"Not ready for what?" he asked. "Not ready to tell me?"

FOR ANYTHING, she added to the end of the first four words. After a moment she scratched YOU NEITHER.

"What do we need to be ready for," he said.

She looked at him, or rather looked in his direction, for her gaze wasn't on the outside world but turned inward. Finally, she focused on him, and wrote.

DO YOU KNOW YOUR DESTINY

"Of course I do," he said. "Everyone does. I'm a soldier of Hargest. I always reckoned I'd be killed in the field, or die as a prisoner. Specially since I can't fight. I'm a useless mouth to feed so I reckoned I'd die first. Why?"

She looked thoughtful.

"Don't you know yours?" he said.

She shook her head.

"But we're still soldiers of Hargest, though," he said.

She raised her eyebrows.

"Aren't we?" he said, suddenly chilled.

She covered the writing with her hand, this time, and only held it up to show him when she'd finished.

I FOLLOW NO ONE

"His lordship your father won't like that," said Five. "After all these years in his service and you reject his protection. He'll take that very ill."

She stared at him coldly and wrote just one word.

PROTECTION?

Five stared at it, and for the first time he began to feel like he understood why she hadn't just gone straight back to Hargest.

He could sense it, at last: beneath her surface calmness and quietness and friendliness, which themselves were so different from the fiery energy and authority she'd had before the worm, beneath all that, he could now see, was this huge, dark, heaving sea of rage.

It was what came to the surface when she fought, when she lost her temper, when she forgot herself.

Betrayal. It was the thing that she never forgot, never forgave. You could be as vicious as anything and she might even admire your style, as long as you stuck to your own side. But if you broke a bond around her, she was your enemy for life.

"So," he said. "No going back, then."

She wrote NOT YET.

"I see," he said. "When we're ready."

She nodded.

"When will that be? When you have a company? When you can wear your armour? When the moon turns to green cheese?"

She smiled slightly, and then the smile left her face and she looked grim once more.

"Yeah," he said. "But sooner or later, I mean ... we will have to go back. We'll have to show them that you're not dead, won't we?"

She nodded, staring past his shoulder, lost in thought.

I need to buck her up, he thought. She does it for me so I need to do it for her.

"What a look'll be on Sir Ulf's face," he said, smiling, "when he says that you've come out of that thing and you're stronger than ever."