Idunn's Apples

Olaf nodded in response, then reminded himself that there was a reason he'd picked this man to be his personal bodyguard. "Let us go and find out if they mean to bar us from my new keep!" Olaf announced, summoning dangerous laughter from those around him. As they rode nearer, the Viking chieftain saw that the two women were alike in age, close to that of his own offspring. Yet the blonde in the fine blue dress had an air of confidence and command about her while the brunette positioned herself behind the blonde. Neither had any sign of a weapon upon them.

"I am Morag, daughter of Lord MacLint!" shouted the finer-dressed of the two women. She stepped forward.

A scowl twisted her face, making Olaf wonder momentarily if he'd been sent into a coven of witches. As he regarded the young woman, her face softened. Olaf stared in open surprise at the long blonde hair the young woman wore loose around her head and neck. He opened his mouth and almost whispered Brunhilde's name before he remembered that she had died bringing Ingrid into the world.

"Your father fought well, daughter of Lord MacLint!" Olaf declared. "He was a brave warrior. His only fault lay in being on the losing side." He looked the girl up and down. She was perhaps nineteen. She had a fine smooth face, although the remnants of the scowl hid some of her beauty. The other woman still cowered behind her mistress, averting her gaze from the Vikings. "I am Lord Olaf Shieldbreaker of Midgard. And you are here to welcome me to my new possessions, I take it?"

The woman shivered in fury but kept her tongue. "There was no fault in my father!"

"Peace, woman. I mean you no harm." Olaf dismounted, grunting as his leather boots struck the mud heavily. Gunderr was correct, he thought, I am getting too old for this. "Did your people take all the rocks from the earth to build your castles and keeps, girl?"

There was a clamour behind Olaf as others dismounted and jostled for space. Metal rattled and clanged, and a few men cursed as they lost their footing and fell into the mud. Laughter eased the tension, and he could see that this Morag was losing some of her spite as she realized it was only men who had come to her home and not the fairy-tale monsters that she had feared.

"Come, child! I faced your father on the field of battle. He died bravely. You have nothing to feel ashamed about." He approached the woman and looked down at her as she courageously stood her ground. "You've bravely kept the keep safe after all the men left for battle. And, you stand before me like the noblest of women. You know at a word from me you would be cut down where you stand."

"I know."

"But, I will not say the word. You impress me, girl, just as your father did on the battlefield." Olaf looked up into the grey and cloudy sky. "I'm sure he's drinking a toast in Valhalla right now, and smacking the bottom of every Valkyrie who dares to come within his reach."

He was disappointed that his words did nothing to cheer her mood. The scowl reminded him of Ingrid. "Lady Morag, will you escort me into my keep?"

Her eyes flared and her cheeks reddened. However, she put her hand on his arm and the two of them walked side by side through the open gate. Olaf noted the impressive defences as they walked. Her father had been a man after his own heart; there were few improvements to be made in defending this place. A small army such as Olaf's could hold off one twice its size for months!

"How long do you intend to stay?" asked Morag.

Olaf turned to her. Her face showed shrewd calculation and a hatred for him.

"This place and everything and everyone within it now belong to me. You would do well to remember that. And call me Lord Olaf until I tell you otherwise. I stay as long as I wish to." He turned toward the servants and workers assembled in the courtyard. "I am your new master. If you obey, you will be treated well! If you do not obey, then you will be punished! Make sure my men are comfortable. We are tired and hungry."

"Do you intend to stay forever...Lord Olaf?" Morag asked.

"Perhaps." She pulled her hand away from his arm. "Why did you stay, Lady Morag?"

As soldiers unburdened themselves and looked around, horses neighed and a light rain began to fall. The courtyard was already filled with mud.

"I have nowhere else to go, Lord Olaf," came the simple response.

When he turned to her at that moment he spied the real woman, alone and afraid and surrounded by the violent and cruel enemies of her people. "Come then, and show me around. You'll be safe enough."

Morag nodded and led him to the inner keep wall, where two massive oaken doors barred the way. A woman's scream made Olaf and Morag freeze.

"Mistress!" cried out the woman who had stood behind Morag in front of the keep.

"Winnifred!" shouted Morag, taking two quick steps toward the other woman who had been grabbed roughly by one of Olaf's men. The Viking chieftain reached out for her arm and held her in place. "My maid!" she pleaded with Olaf.

The Viking turned to the maid to see her assailant's hand grab the front of her blouse and pull, stripping the young woman. A cheer went up among the other Vikings who were watching with enjoyment.

"She's just a slave," said Olaf. "Besides, she'll not be harmed. Come! Show me the keep!"

Morag wrenched her arm from his grasp with surprising strength. "She's not a slave! She's freeborn!" As he turned he noted that a group of warriors were encircling the woman Winnifred. Her assailant, a still-drunk Thvaldi, had thrown her onto her back in the mud and was climbing atop her. Olaf watched as Morag dashed to the side, plucked an unwieldy timber from a woodpile, and ran past the watching warriors. She struck Thvaldi twice on the back as hard as she could, but it was insufficient to distract the drunken Viking.

"Snorri!" shouted Olaf.

The chieftain's son pushed others aside as he rushed to the scene. He plucked the wood from Morag's hands, then lifted Thvaldi off Winnifred and cast him away into the mud. Some warriors went to the drunken Viking to calm him down.

Snorri looked at his father. Olaf nodded quickly, then pointed at the naked girl. Snorri reached down and helped her to her feet. Morag had grabbed the remnants of Winnifred's gown and now wrapped it about the frightened girl's shoulders.

"Thank you," Morag said to Snorri, seemingly unaware that Olaf had directed his actions.

"Send the girl to her room to recover," commanded Olaf gruffly. "She'll be left untouched by my men."

Morag nodded, but her face was full of disgust. She whispered something to her friend who then rushed off through the oaken doors. Winnifred's sobs could be heard echoing from within the inner keep until the oaken doors swung shut.

Chapter 5: Reunion

The pounding upon the door of Morag's chamber was slowing but had not stopped for almost a full minute. Morag was curled up in a ball on the floor of her bedchamber, equidistant from the single window and the lone door. Despite the fact that she had set the latch and pushed her bed in front of the wooden portal, this room felt less safe than it ever had before.

She had not cried, not once. Tears were for those who were suffering worse than she was. She could imagine the raping Vikings spreading through the keep like a pestilence, seeking out women wherever they went to satisfy their unnatural lusts. They were monsters! And Olaf had been the worst of all of them, feigning respect and chivalry while allowing his men to rampage against those he was now supposed to protect. At least that one man had helped poor Winnifred, she thought.

Morag pushed herself up so that she was sitting upon the floor. "Go away!" she hissed toward the door, as if that would keep her safe from the men who were trying to break it down.

The hammering upon the door stopped. "Mistress?" called out a feminine voice.

"God preserve you!" Morag leapt to her feet and dragged the bed away from the door as fast as she could. She had to bring Winnifred into the relative safety of her bedchamber before some Viking spied her.

The maid fell into the room as soon as the door was unlatched. Morag then shut the door and made it fast again. Winnifred watched in wonder.

Collapsing beside her bed once she was finished, Morag turned to her lifelong friend. The poor girl's dress was open all down the front, and both her skin and the cloth were marred with brown mud. There seemed to be no serious injury, but Morag knew she had a duty to care for the poor maid. For some reason after returning to her room, Winnifred had tried to repair her gown and put it back on instead of changing into another dress.

Morag rose to her feet and opened her wardrobe. She pulled out a gown that would cover Winnifred from neck to foot and held it out to the girl. "This is for you. I'm so sorry one of them tried to ravage you, Winnifred."

"I'm a mess, mistress," replied her friend, examining her own mud-stained arms and legs. "I cannot wear something of yours! It's too fine!"

"Nonsense." Morag began searching for some cloths to wipe her friend clean. "Strip your clothes off. We'll clean you up, then I'll get you out of the keep." The words had come out of her mouth without her really having thought about them. Was it possible to get Winnifred away from these rapacious Vikings?

"There's no place that's safe, mistress."

Morag stopped and her shoulders drooped. "I fear you're correct, Winnie, but I don't see what else we can do."

"You shall remain here, safely hidden and out of their reach, mistress. I shall go and collect food for you when you are hungry. Their chieftain said I was not to be touched."

"And Vikings are well known for their adherence to rule of law?"

"I think they shall obey him, mistress." Her eyes welled up with tears. "Especially when that other one, the strong one, is ready to act on old Olaf's behalf."

"Old Olaf is an apt name for him isn't it, Winnie?" The two shared a brief chuckle. "I will not put you at any further risk and that is my final word on the matter."

"Yes, mistress."

Morag helped Winnifred strip, then wiped her as free from mud as she could. Then, she dressed the protesting maid in one of her gowns. It would cover her and was thick enough to offer some protection from the cool nights.

"Your father's farm is quite distant as I remember," suggested Morag.

"Yes, lady. It would not be safe to try to walk there, not with the Vikings wandering about as they are. You must stay safely here!"

"Bah!" Morag pushed the bed away from the door, then listened carefully. She unlatched the door and listened again. Opening the door, the loud creak that sounded made her cringe. The hallway was dark. "Come, Winnie. I know some ways around the castle that no-one else knows about, certainly not these intruders."

"I remember," said Winnifred.

The two women snuck out into the darkness, pausing fearfully at every noise as they made their way through deserted corridors.

Chapter 6: Accusation

Morag said farewell to her friend at the secret door, then attempted to sneak back to the dubious refuge of her bedchamber. As she was returning to her room by passages and stairs as yet, she hoped, undiscovered by the Viking marauders, her heart stopped as a strong hand grabbed her hair and cruelly yanked her backwards. She stared up into the snarling face of the dark-haired woman who had been in Olaf's company.

"Thought you could escape, did you?" her captor shouted at her. "Put on a show for my father and then thought you could run off? Embarrassing him? Striking at him in the only way that was left to you?" Morag was slapped across the face. "You disgust me!" The Viking woman pulled a dagger from her belt. "A real woman would have sunk her knife into my father's heart, right up to the hilt, before plunging it into her own!"

The woman yanked on Morag's hair again, dragging her away to an uncertain fate. Morag feared that it was now her turn to be taken by Viking warriors and suspected the first would be this woman's father, Olaf. Her status of Lady of the Keep now meant nothing. She consoled herself that at least Winnifred had escaped and, if she took Morag's commands to heart, would encourage her family to flee to lands where the Vikings had not yet been.

Morag managed to turn about so she was scuttling under her own power, but the other woman's firm grip kept her headed toward the sounds of a raucous celebration. Doors were thrown open before the two women and the great hall slowly fell silent as Olaf's daughter posed with her captive.

"What is the meaning of this, Ingrid?" demanded Olaf from across the room.

"This temptress was caught fleeing the keep!" Ingrid tightened her grip on Morag's hair, then half-dragged her across the floor, past tables of laughing Vikings. "First, she used her wiles to seduce you, Father, then once your guard was down, she struck out on her own. If I had not suspected her of bewitching you and gone in search of her she might have escaped!"

"No! Please!" begged Morag.

"I say we cast her amongst your warriors and once they finish with her she can crawl away to freedom! If she can!" Ingrid laughed, and many male voices echoed her.

"Let her stand, daughter," commanded Olaf. "I'll hear of her duplicity from her own lips before I declare a punishment!"

Ingrid released her grip upon Morag, then carefully sheathed her dagger. Morag searched the room for a friendly face. Those she knew, former servants and slaves to her father, looked away from her. The Viking warriors watched eagerly and talked quietly amongst themselves.

"I was not trying to escape, Lord Olaf," began Morag. She took in a deep breath. "Lady Ingrid may return to where she found me and see for herself that I was headed away from any escape from the keep." She turned a hateful look upon the raven-haired Viking woman.

"That is easily checked," suggested Olaf. "And if you lie, Ingrid will have permission to punish you herself." There was an evil chuckle from the woman beside Morag. "My daughter is very handy with a whip," he added, and laughter rang out amongst the crowd.

"I do not lie, Lord Olaf. And, since you have requested that I address you by your title, I would appreciate it if you returned the courtesy!"

The room went silent. Ingrid drew her dagger and readied for her father's command to slit the impudent southern woman's throat.

"Daughter!"

A dangerous look passed between father and daughter, then the dark-haired woman slowly sheathed her dagger again.

"You would make a proper wife for a hero, Lady Morag." Beside Morag, Ingrid breathed quickly and her hands opened and closed. Olaf and his son exchanged looks. "Now, what were you doing when Ingrid found you?"

"I had just set my maid free of any further torment from your men, Lord Olaf. I was returning to my room, where you had sent me earlier this very day. I meant to secret myself there and think on my fate."

"I see," replied the Viking chieftain. He rose from his chair and raised his arms. "Listen, all of you! Lady Morag is not to be harmed by anyone! By anyone!" he repeated for the benefit of the seething Ingrid. "I am overlord of these lands now. These people belong to me. They are under my protection. No-one is to harm any of them unless they desire to be oathbreakers!"

Morag searched the room for defiance from the infamously-wild Viking warriors, but saw none. There were scowling faces, but those same faces also showed resignation. Their lord's word was law, much to her surprise.

"That will be most suitable, Lord Olaf." Morag was surprised by the charity, as well. Stories of rapes and killings were abundant wherever the Vikings were known. "I thank you on behalf of my people...those who were once my people." She bowed low to her new master.

"Come, Lady Morag, join me at the table."

A spot was hastily vacated. After a quick and wary glance at Ingrid, Morag sat beside the Viking chieftain. "I thank you for your hospitality, Lord Olaf."

The chieftain merely nodded at her as he tore a piece of meat apart with his teeth. He still eats like a wolf, thought Morag.

"It is a pleasure to have such a lovely lady as yourself to dine with, Lady Morag," said a voice to her left. She turned to find that the Viking who had rescued Winnifred from the drunken warrior had just addressed her. "Surely you will join us, as part of our family?"

Morag's eyes went wide.

"You, too, are bewitched by this enchantress?" demanded Ingrid. "Will any man prove immune to her spells?" she asked of the room.

"She's no witch, daughter. Sit and eat." Olaf pointed to an empty seat.

Ingrid sat down and tore into her meal. However, she frequently cast a scathing look toward Morag.

"I am Snorri, son of Lord Olaf," offered the Viking warrior on Morag's left. "I am glad that we can at last have time to talk."

"I have little to talk to you about, Snorri, son of Olaf," replied Morag, although her tone was softer than she had intended.

"A shame. A union between the two of us might do much for the people of this land. I will inherit once my father has been taken by the Valkyrie." Morag was shocked at his bluntness, but Olaf, who must have heard his son's words, did not seem interested in the conversation. "And after I inherit this keep, my wife will rule here as Lady." Snorri examined the leg of lamb in his hands. "Not a bad fate for a woman with no family."

Morag had to admit that the prospect of becoming the wife of Snorri wasn't that bad. Many women did far worse, even women with sufficient wealth and family to find them a proper husband. And, although he was a Viking, the brief conversation he had offered her so far indicated that he could be un-Viking-like when he so wished. What could she do as wife of Snorri and lady of the keep once Olaf was dead? Wives had been known to sway their husbands. She considered Olaf briefly. Snorri's father was quite grey in his hair and beard. Vikings lived rough lives and certainly there were very few men in this group who matched Olaf's age. Would she have to wait long before she was in a position where she could better protect the people of this land?

"Not a bad fate at all, Snorri, son of Lord Olaf."

He gave her a brief smile. "We'll talk on this later, then." He turned and renewed a conversation he'd been having with some warriors sitting opposite him.

A husband, Morag thought, a protector from the other Vikings and someone who would give her a title. Any children they produced would be hers, so she would also be mother to the heir. Aside from the fact that Snorri was a barbaric Viking, this prospect was very much like what had been in her future before her father's death. That was a fate she had been resigned to long before her father had left for war.

Chapter 7: An Unwelcome Suitor

Dinner was dull, but Morag used the time to think on what she might put her mind to. Noting that no-one was required to address Lord Olaf before they departed, she simply rose from the table and slipped away during a wrestling bout between Snorri and three other Viking men.

There were no challenges as she jogged up the stairs and no accusations as she passed down empty corridors to her bedchamber. She was able to slip inside and then lean back against the latched door.

Would Olaf accept a southern woman, a non-Viking woman, as his son's wife? And exactly what authorities and duties did the wife of a Viking have? Doubtless there'd be a fair amount of coupling; Snorri was a Viking after all. She would be expected to produce a son or two. She'd heard of certain foods and charms that could ensure a baby boy, but she'd have to learn more to make sure they worked.

Morag supposed the servants would be under her power and would therefore be under her protection, but what of the farmers and their families? Perhaps a few choice words in Snorri's ear, convincing him of the loyalty of her people? And she could easily sway the tenants and landowners to ensure they kept the peace and paid Snorri the respect he was due.