cooler air; the day seemed darker through the blindfold. Would we stop for the night? The probing of a man’s rough hands releasing knots that had kept me tied up for hours, answered my question. I was detached from the horse and carried into a structure with warmth. My captor set me down on a wooden bench. I could feel the splintery wood with my hands, still bound behind my back. My feet were released from the rope, so I could stand if needed.
Voices spoke in the corner, “Captured . . . forest,” were the only uttered words I heard. Perhaps they were explaining my capture and where they found me. Maybe they were giving orders to someone for my care. I hoped they would soon release me from my wrist bindings and remove my blindfold and gag. I heard footsteps coming toward me; I felt my heart pounding in my chest. What would they do?
“Who are you? Guci?” the gruff voice asked, as my gag was removed. When I heard the word, Guci, I knew they might be asking me who I was, or where I was from. I spoke for the first time all day.
“I am Gutthiuda; I live with my family on the Wisla River. I want to go there, now!” I demanded, in a voice that showed no sign of weakness.
The voice spoke a little of my language now. “You have—name?”
“Yes, it’s Ermentrude. My father is Ansgar of the Spears. Do you know my father?” I asked.
“Ne! I am friend of Dragan—you know this man?” he said, “I do not care where you from—you are otrok—slave, now. You will stay here and work—help out.” I heard this disturbing news and held my breath, apprehensive of what this meant. My mouth hung open.
“You are gift to Draga! She tell you what to do—where to sleep,” the voice said. I felt weak and almost cried. I had to remind myself that I was strong. It was Draga, who removed the binding rope around my wrist, along with my blindfold once the man was gone. She was kind and spoke to me in a soft voice.
“You are young,” she said, “You married?” Her face was youthful, but much older than mine. Her eyes seemed sad, but wise.
“Ne, I am not married,” I shook my head, “I was told to marry, but I ran away from home with my friend,” I tried to explain, using hand gestures, “Is my friend, Saskia here?”
She nodded, and my heart leaped with excitement! “May I see her? Please, let me talk to her, Draga,” I pleaded.
“Ne, you must go to sleep now,” she told me resting her hand on my shoulder. “Mir (peace),” she added.
“I will sleep for now, but please tell me I may speak to Saskia tomorrow.” I knew she understood what I was saying. She could hear my pleading voice.
“I will see,” she replied. She left the room, and I got into my bed, which was quite comfortable. It was a frame of wood, with straw filled into it, and covered with soft material, not the same as the woolen blankets I used at home. My pillow was a roll of soft fabric. I soon drifted off to sleep, tired from my journey. I dreamed of Saskia and Gerulf riding horses across the meadows, the hillocks, and up into the mountains. I missed them terribly. I wondered where Brunhilda was, too.
In the middle of the night, a man entered my room. He had a lecherous expression on his face. He came closer, and I screamed. Saskia entered my room and comforted me, after the man had left my room.
“I will never forget his face, Saskia. Is he here on the farm? Who is he?” I asked. “We‘ll find out tomorrow. I must have dreamt this. It wasn’t real—right?” Saskia did not answer.
Chapter IV Captives
The morning came. I opened my eyes to see Saskia sitting on the edge of my bed. She smiled and leaned over to hug me.
“Saskia! You are here! They let you come! I asked Draga if I could see you. I am so happy! What happened to us?”
“Ermentrude, I thought I would never speak your name again! But here you are. I was brought here a while ago by Draga. She seems rather pleasant. What a difference from those brutes who brought us here! Do you know what happened to Anselm and Gerulf? she asked. “Are they here? Do you know?”
“I’m sorry, Saskia, I don’t know what has happened to them. I wish I did. How did we become captives when we had two guards all night?” I questioned.
“I awoke early, in darkness, to see if Erwin and Alfons were still guarding us. I thought they might have fallen asleep. I saw no one guarding our horses and camp. The horses were gone! I rushed over to Anselm’s tent, and found it empty. Gerulf was not in his tent, either. I started to panic, when I thought—where is my knife, and where is my sword? My ax was also missing.” Saskia brushed a hair from my face and continued. “I decided to quietly look around, when I tripped over a rock and fell. As I got up, a strong arm grabbed me around my waist. I kicked and tried to yell, but a hand stifled the sounds from my mouth. I even tried to bite the hand . . . but I missed. As I was being carried away kicking, I did see something behind a boulder. It was a foot. I could only think that our friends were surprised and killed. That frightened me. All I could think about was you, Ermentrude. You were still sleeping in our tent when I left. I prayed that you would be overlooked,” Saskia spoke urgently.
I hugged her and asked, “Saskia, I wonder if anyone survived, besides us? Do you think . . . that Gerulf . . . or Anselm . . . are dead?” I choked down my tears.
“Ermentrude, it must have been a small band of men that took us by surprise, so quietly. Bruno was a big, strong man, and so was Gerulf. It must have taken all their strength to subdue those two brothers. We can only pray to the gods that they are safe. Maybe they left the camp to go hunting early. If so, Gerulf and Anselm, or, someone, will track us to this place. I hope this is what happened, and that they have my weapons—my mother’s ax!” Saskia seemed hopeful. She leaned over to kiss me on my cheek and hugged me for comfort.
“Oh, Saskia, I really hope you are right. Maybe Draga will help us find out what happened to Gerulf and his comrades,” I presumed. “I must ask . . . were you in my room last night? Did you hear me scream?”
“Ja, you said a man was in your room. I heard you screaming, so I ran to your room. He must have left before I came. I never saw him.”
“So, it did happen. I thought I dreamt it. I must find out who he is and avoid him.”
“We’ll keep our eyes open today,” Saskia said.
A young girl, about eight years old, the age of Ava, came to my room to call us to breakfast. We smiled at her and followed her outside to a table with benches. Other people sat there, staring at us, as they ate their meal. We bowed our heads and sat at the end of the table, across from each other. Bowls of food . . . porridge, and bread, were passed to us. We thanked them. The people, servants or slaves, seemed as hesitant to speak, as we were to speak to them. Finally, one woman spoke to a young girl sitting beside her. The others spoke in quiet voices to each other. Saskia and I remained silent. We did not know what the people were saying to each other, but they sounded serious. Maybe they knew about the evil man who had come into my room last night. Could this have happened to them, when they first arrived?
After our breakfast, we were shown what to do around the main house. It seemed to be on a farm . . . a large farm. Saskia and I were told to wash the wooden and metal bowls, utensils, and cooking pots in a kitchen that was similar to my mother’s kitchen. We were told to make bread, as well as sweep the floor of straw, lay down fresh straw, and go outside to help with whatever was needed.
We
