Forgotten Past
“Breakfast?” Unni asked, holding up a ladle. She smiled warmly to Ailia who had just entered the smoky, fire-lit room. Unni was always in a good mood. She was steady as a flowing river, calm and deep.
Sigrid, their thrall, was busy cleaning up animal lard and cooking utensils. She hobbled around and was singing a tune.
“Of course, your breakfasts are always so tasty!” Ailia said and sat down on a beat up, old wooden stool next to the crackling, hot hearth.
Silya had stayed overnight and slept in the main room on a bench-bed next to the wall and she too, was to Ailia’s surprise, still sleeping. Ailia was glad that Silya had decided to stay another few weeks. She felt safe around her and even though she wasn’t quite certain what to make of it, it was her closest connection to Soren at the moment.
“Were you able to get any sleep last night?” Unni asked, stirring the horsemeat stew in the massive black cauldron.
“Lucia and I did stay up late and talk. Then, I had to read the letter from my—birth mother.” Unni had been the mother who raised Ailia, who had wiped away her tears, who had babied her wounds and who had taught her everything she knew up until this point. It felt strange calling anyone else by that honorable name and Ailia didn’t want to hurt Unni’s feelings. “So, maybe half a night’s sleep?” she guesstimated, her voice rising at the end. She tucked her cold hands in between her legs and the bench to warm them.
“Well, there’s so much new information.” Unni exhaled slowly. She paused and placed her hands on her hips with the ladle clasped in her right fist. “You were right, after all, about having a special purpose. I feel bad that I ever doubted you.”
“I’m not upset. Of course you didn’t know,” Ailia said. “Did you know anything about where I came from at all, any hint or clue?”
“No, Ivar is the most loyal man I have ever met. He never alluded to where you were from. I’m just as surprised as you are. When he brought you to us, he said your parents had died in a neighboring village of the smallpox and that you needed a new home and someone to raise you as their own. I never thought your parents might still be alive and I never imagined you were a princess, or something called a Great Sentinor,” Unni said, leaning in close to Ailia as she whispered. Then, she backed off and spoke normally again. “Brander and I were thrilled when he brought you to us because we were never able to have any of our own children.”
Ailia thought she remembered Ivar from her childhood. “Did you know Ivar well before he brought me to you?” she asked. She accepted a ladle from Aunt Unni filled with stew, happy to taste a sample.
“No, but we did know of him and had met him on a few occasions. He was my distant cousin’s best friend.”
“You mean Gunnar?” Ailia asked surprised.
“Yes,” Unni said. “Rather I should say, they were best friends, like family almost, before Gunnar befriended Eiess. After that, sadly, their friendship ended,” she said, shaking her head. “There was more to the story, but Ivar refuses to talk about it. I think he was too hurt and too pained by their broken friendship. I have just pieced together information to try and figure out the story.” She lifted the heavy cauldron off the hearth. Ailia stood up to help her.
“I always wondered what happened to Gunnar. He was such a happy man, kind and fun. He’d always play with me when I was a child. I remember I used to love it when he came over,” Ailia said straining, not anticipating how heavy the cauldron would be. “What a sad story.”
“Yes, it is a sad tale. He somehow disowned his wife, Ragnvei, of only a few weeks. His reason was that he didn’t approve of her new religion. She had turned to the Christian faith and he despised her for it. Then it was just as if Ragnvei couldn’t take any more of her life and she jumped off Odinseat, killing herself on the sharp cliffs.
Ailia felt shivers through her spine.
“Shortly after that Gunnar left to be with the Vikings. I personally think she was heartbroken,” Unni speculated. “Terrible man, terrible,” she said, squinting her eyes.
“What a tragic story,” Ailia said. “I feel so sad.”
“Yes, poor Ragnvei. She just married the wrong man, who joined the Vikings of all things, and had too much of pain in her life. Now tell me more about what actually happened to you.” Unni sat down on the same stool Ailia had sat on earlier.
“I found a handkerchief with a raven embroidered on it in the cave where I woke up,” Ailia said. “Let me get it.” She ran and got it. “I also found this.” She showed Unni the empty flask.
Unni took the flask. “I’m relieved to hear that you did not run away. I thought you had maybe decided to run away when we were going to marry you off to Geir. I felt so guilty for having mentioned how I almost ran away when my parents picked Brander for me,” Unni said.
“I would never have run away,” Ailia said.
“Geir is happily married again, so there is no need to worry about him any further.”
“I’m glad to hear,” Ailia said, feeling more relieved than she probably should.
Unni took the flask and smelled it. “No scent, strange, it could be anything.” She handed it back to Ailia. “There seems to be a likely connection with your disappearance and the Vikings.”
“I just hate not remembering anything about my disappearance. I could always go back to the Viking settlement and—” Ailia started.
“Do not even think those thoughts!” Unni said furiously, her eyes suddenly intense. “The memories will probably come back to you soon enough.”
“And if they do not?” Ailia asked.
“Then, good riddance! You don’t need to remember the bad to move forward in your life. Just count it as a blessing that you don’t remember. Do you really need to know?”
“No, but my curiosity is haunting my mind!” Ailia said impatiently.
Unni smiled. “Oh, Ailia.”
“I know what you’re going to say,” Ailia said.
“Well, I won’t say it then. Let’s talk about something else, shall we?” Unni suggested.
Ailia looked at her new ring.
“Lovely ring, don’t you think?” Unni noted.
“Yes. I feel it connects me to my parents in a way. It also makes me sad.” Ailia said. She studied her ring, thinking that just a little while ago, her father had been alive. “My father, oh, had I known, I would have given anything to have met him.” Ailia buried her face in her hands and cried silently. She finally looked up. “Are you sure he is—gone?”
“Yes, Ivar confirmed it yesterday.” Unni walked over to Ailia and sat next to her.
“Do you know what happened to his body?” Ailia asked, not knowing if she felt strong enough to hear the details if they were presented to her.
“Ivar said that Eiess disposed of it. Are you sure you want to know?” Unni asked.
“Yes, I need to hear how he died and how he was treated,” Ailia said, feeling stronger now.
“Eiess dismembered him and displayed his body parts all over Bergendal as a warning to anyone who would challenge her,” Unni said bluntly.
“Does Lucia know?” she said, feeling she needed to protect her sister.
“Yes, she knows,” Unni said sadly. “Brander went around with Bishop Peter and collected the remains. They gave him a proper burial right next to your mother.”
“I would like to visit them soon,” Ailia said. “The burials, I mean.”
“When you go there, just know there is no stone or anything that marks your father’s grave. This was done to protect Brander, Bishop Peter and King Olav’s grave. I can show you where it is on Sunday, if you would like.”
“I’d like to go sooner than that,” Ailia said.
“How about Brander take you early tomorrow morning?” Unni said.
“I would like that.” Ailia said, comforted her father had received somewhat of a proper burial.
“If it’s any consolation at all, remember, your father wanted to remain unknown by you. He realized the danger in meeting and knowing you. It was the only way to truly protect you. It must have been the most difficult, yet the most heroic, thing he had ever done. He sacrificed his life, so you could complete your life’s purpose. He gladly surrendered everything, so that you could have a chance to triumph.” Unni placed her arm around Ailia, tenderly stroking her back. “He made that his ultimate purpose and he succeeded.”
Ailia laid her head to rest on Unni’s shoulder. She thought about all the times she had cried on her shoulder before and how this time was so different from all those other times. “Oh, Aunt Unni, if there were any other way,” she said, letting the tears flow freely.
“I know, my love, I know,” Unni replied.