Caged
Ailia woke up in a small wooden cage, which was propped up against the wall of a large longhouse, how large she couldn’t tell. The box prison was too squat to stand up in, but wide enough that she could almost stretch her legs all the way out in one direction when she lay down. The floor was covered with hay and old frayed fabric and the heavens were quickly turning dark. Feeling at he back of her head as she sat up, she felt a tender lump.
It was difficult to see out between the tightly assembled planks, but slits between the construction allowed her to make out that the longhouse she was backed up against was one of five large ones built in a circle. Beyond the narrow passageways between the buildings she saw many other longhouses, shacks, and barns.
She assumed she was at the Viking settlement Soren and she had passed by on their way back to Bergendal many months ago. And she remembered Hanna mentioning that she, too, was imprisoned in a crate similar to this one.
Right next to her, there were a few more cages propped up against the wall and she thought there might be one other person inside the cage furthest away from her.
“Hello?” she called.
Movement came from the other cage. “Hello?” a woman’s voice beckoned in return.
“Where are we?” Ailia asked.
“Where are we?” the answer came. The woman’s accent revealed that she was not from here.
She grimaced. Why is she playing games? “Do you understand me?”
“Do you understand me?” the answer came.
Ailia huffed. She must not understand me.
Before she had lost consciousness, Gunnar had dragged her out of the church. He had thrown her into an enclosed sleigh with her overcoat, but without her mittens, and she had watched with great dread as they set the stave church on fire. Ivar had still been inside the chapel, trying to fend off the Vikings, but she hadn’t seen what happened to him before one of the brutes had hopped into her sleigh and knocked her on the head so hard she had lost consciousness.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had cried, but now, with her body being cold and tired, and being all alone, she had a hard time holding back the tears.
Now I shall never defeat Eiess. The scrolls have been burned, and the Aesira jewel is gone. Will I ever see Soren again? She hated being so vulnerable in the grasp of such a savage as Gunnar. What did he want with her? Why hadn’t he just killed her like the Vikings had the others?
Loud, unencumbered laughter came from inside the larger of the five longhouses. The Vikings were in a happy, highly-tipsy mood, probably from drinking all the mead they had stolen in Bergendal and the surrounding villages. Most likely, they were proud of their conquests, reveling in their victory and congratulating themselves on such a successful night.
Suddenly, the door to the largest longhouse burst open, causing Ailia to cower to the back of her cage. Several Vikings staggered out into the central area as they clung onto each other. They were halfway undressed, their round, pale bellies hanging out to meet the cold. Snow fell onto their beards and bodies and they bellowed a song.
We, the sons of Thor the strong
Mightier than any throng
Fiercely feared by all the land,
From the seas until the sands.
We have lost some brethren dear,
do not shed a tear
For they are in paradise today
Drinking mead and eating steak.
We will take whate‘er we see
Vikings, we are tough and free
Live today for present cares
Take your prize and spoil your shares.
Freemen we will always be
We live as Kings and royalty
When we are dead, we want to hear
Songs ‘bout us, a thousand years
They were awful singers—couldn’t even carry a tune—and their bigheaded lyrics repulsed Ailia. One of the men fell headfirst into the snow, causing the others to hoot and laugh, slapping their knees and nudging each other. She thought the unconscious man might be Gunnar, and she hoped it would so she would be safe for the night. Two men picked him up and dragged him inside the longhouse across from her cage. They shut the door behind them and it grew quiet again, only their muffled voices escaping to the outside.
She was shivering now, and in a matter of hours, night would fall. How would she stay warm? Is this how I’m going to die: alone, freezing and never having known my love in this life?
A couple came out arm in arm from another one of the longhouses. The man roughly pressed the woman up against the outside wall and kissed her passionately. She laughed and cooed in approval, while knitting her fingers into his hair. Ailia averted her eyes when she saw that he lifted up the woman’s skirt, groping between her legs. The woman moaned just as he grunted, and not wanting to hear or see what was about to transpire, Ailia stuffed her fingers in her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. Even then, she could hear the unrelenting thumping, and the woman as she called out in pleasure again and again. Soon the noises stopped, but Ailia dared not look until long after the sounds had died down.
Finally opening her eyes, she saw to her great relief that the couple was gone. Only one man stood guard in the small tower by the main opening, and it looked as if he had fallen asleep. Perhaps she should try to escape. With at the Vikings drunk, and the guard passed out, she might have a chance. The cage looked rather poorly constructed, being built only from planks and nails, so it couldn’t be too difficult to break and exit.
She pressed her feet against one wall, and lodged her back onto the opposite side, pushing off as hard as she could. Nothing happened. Trying a different approach, she repeatedly kicked the planks as forcefully as she could, trying to loose a board—any board—but none of them budged.
Suddenly, from between two of the longhouses, she saw four men approaching. She immediately stopped kicking and curled up into a ball in the corner. As they came closer, she could see that three Vikings held one man. The prisoner’s hands were tied behind his back and a sackcloth was pulled over his head. The Vikings pushed and kicked him to move forward, laughing when he tripped over something in his path. Once they had arrived on front of Ailia’s cage, two Vikings restrained the prisoner, and the third unlocked the empty cage next to her.
“Get in, dead man,” one of the Vikings said. He opened the top-hinged cage door and pushed the prisoner into the crate. The man groaned as he fell to the ground, taking a hard hit. The Vikings locked the crate by enclosing its exterior with a larger iron cage.
No wonder I couldn’t get out. Its exterior is reinforced with iron, Ailia thought. After the Vikings had left, she scooted closer to her new neighbor. “Are you all right, sir?”
The stranger sat up awkwardly, with his hands still tied behind his back and the sackcloth over his head. “Ailia?” the voice replied. “Is that you?”
“Soren?” She was shocked, concerned and excited all at the same time, not knowing whether she should jump for joy or cry in the small confinements of her pen. “How did you get here?” Her eyes burst with tears of joy, mingled with sorrow, bitter tears of fear and hope welling simultaneously from the windows of her soul. “Soren, I…how…? I don’t know what to say. I’m so glad, but also sad that you’re here,” she finally said, her words not even coming remotely close to expressing her feelings. She tried to get a glimpse of him through the slivers of space. “How did you get here? Are you hurt?”
He struggled for a brief moment to get the sackcloth off his head and was able to untie the ropes that bound his arms behind his back. “Ailia, Lucia told me the truth,” he said, reaching his fingers through an opening in his cage. Their eyes met in the darkness.
She slid her fingers through the cage and they touched his as the cold air blew through their grasp. It was too cold to hold for long, but she endured the pain.
“You came for me,” she said.
His eyes rested in her gaze. “I wish I would have known sooner. I should never have left you.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before; I thought it was for the best. I wanted it to be a special moment between us,” she said, stretching her fingers longer to be closer to him. “Now, I wish I would have told you the moment I saw you again,” she said, hoping he would meet her heart where it burned.
“I knew in my heart that you were—are—you are my one. How long have you known?” he asked.
“I found out the day I arrived in Bergendal. I wanted to tell you then, but you were still traveling,” she said.
“I thought I was doing us both a favor by leaving, so I would not…” He turned quiet as if he struggled with whether to share something or not.
She looked back into his eyes again, encouraging him without words.
“I had a dream about you the night before I left you in the care of Silya and when I woke up, I realized you were a threat to Lucia and I. I felt a deep, unexplainable love for you even then,” he confessed.
She smiled as he spoke to her, of her, and of the love he had for her. His words felt so right, as if they fit perfectly into every groove and every corner of her heart. Yet how could this be when she hardly knew Soren? Did her soul remember? Her heart? Just like her dream on the mountain, she had forgotten how wonderful the sun felt on her skin, and how beautiful summer was. Now, she had forgotten their previous lives together. But just like the sun had felt on her face, his words warmed and nurtured her heart.
“In my dream, you were so beautiful, Ailia, and I could not ever remember wanting anyone the way I wanted you. My love for you grows stronger over time, with every life you live,” he said.
Ailia’s smile widened. “I thought you left because I had done something wrong,” she admitted, slightly embarrassed. She pulled her fingers away for a moment to warm them underneath her overcoat. The chilly wind had frozen them stiff and her fingers stung as they thawed close to her body. She really wished she had her wool mittens, but they were probably burned to ashes with the church. “I recognized you too, from the moment we met—again,” she said, her heart and soul agreeing in unison as her fingers reached for his again.
“You are cold,” he said. “We need to escape before they kill us, or do anything else to harm us.”
“I’ve tried to kick my way out of here, but the entire wooden crate is enclosed by an iron cage,” she said.
“Ivar came with me,” he said.
“Ivar escaped the Vikings in Bergendal?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Relief set in. “How did the Vikings capture you?”
“Well,” he said, “I walked over to their camp and I let them seize me.” He nearly let out a laugh and a smirk lightened his face.
“It was your plan to be captured?” she asked, trying to decipher his strategy.
“Yes. It was the only way to get close to you,” he said.
Of course, it would be impossible for Soren to be captured and taken. He was the master of all hunting, tracking and waylaying methods, having been alive for centuries now. No Viking, no matter how skilled, could compare to him. I would do the same for him, she realized. Now she didn’t feel as bad that he was here imprisoned with her. If anyone could get them out safely, it was him.
He turned more serious. “I would do anything to be with you, Ailia. I will never leave you again for as long as I live. I would even sit right here for the rest of my life, if it were my only option.”
“I would do that, too,” she said. She gazed into his eyes, and it was as if she could see to the very bottom of them, to that place where there was nothing but the love he had for her. And it was so pure and so overwhelming that it took her breath away.
“Before I left Ivar, I told him to ride back to Bergendal and round up as many able men as possible so they could attack the Vikings on their own territory and take back what was stolen from them. I just hope he makes it back soon and that the chaos in Bergendal is not too maddening. It took me a good day’s trip to get here, so I would imagine we can be expecting them the day after tomorrow.”
Loud laughter came from the larges longhouse again, and Ailia and Soren looked up.
“They’re drunk,” she said. “I doubt they’ll disturb us tonight.” Her body ached in so many places, and she was becoming sleepy, but she didn’t want to sleep a minute as long as she was with Soren. She had longed for time with him, to be open with him and for them to get to know each other…again. She looked back at him, and saw he was already watching her. If these walls hadn’t been here, she would have leapt into his arms and held him tight. Had she truly lived before she met him?