went to a chest, unlocked it and pulled a plain linen tunic and apron-dress out. She shoved them into Annis’s hands. ‘Change.’
A lump formed in Annis’s throat. She had always had help dressing and undressing. No longer. She looked about for a screen to change behind, but there was nothing. Her fingers fumbled with the catch on Haakon’s brooch, and Tove made a clicking noise in the back of her throat. She came over, undid the brooch with impatient fingers and nearly snatched the cloak off Annis’s shoulders.
Tove clicked her fingers. ‘The rest. And no head covering. You are a captive.’
The silver cross tumbled to the floor, and Tove bent to retrieve it.
‘Not yours any more,’ she said and put it on top of the cloak.
Annis’s hand reached out for the cross, quick words sprung to her lips, but then she saw the carved wooden animals on the chest. This was not home. She cursed her bad luck, and forced her hand back down by her side.
Tove slammed the lid down, locked it with a click and pocketed the key. The cross had gone. Annis stared at the carved chest. She no longer had anything to remind herself of home, except for her memories.
Annis shivered slightly. But she rapidly changed the rest of her clothes. The linen scratched against her skin.
Tove led the way to the small kitchen area where a fire burnt in the middle of the room. A kettle filled with soup bubbled on the fire, and several maids were engaged in kneading bread. Two of the largest cats she had ever seen lounged in front of the fire, looking far more like dogs or half-tamed mountain cats. Rather than being chased away as they would be back home, the serving girls seemed to welcome the cats, pausing to give them strokes as they went about their business. Three other women were busy with spinning and weaving. Tove called out and several of the women snickered.
Tove gave Annis’s shoulder a shove and pointed to a sack of barley and then to the large quern and mimicked grinding barley. Annis’s heart sank. She had never had to do such a thing before—such things were done by the meanest servants. Annis clenched her teeth. She took a handful from the sack and placed it on the grinding stone.
After several passes with the stone, Annis saw the grain turn into a coarse flour. This wasn’t as hard as she first feared. She gave a triumphant smile and placed the stone down.
Tove said something else. The entire room burst out laughing. Tove pointed to the sack. Annis’s mouth dropped open. She was expected to grind the entire sack.
She put in some more barley and started to grind, faster this time. Her shoulders protested at the unaccustomed exercise. She would do this! She would grind the sack of barley.
She ground faster and faster, forcing the pace, and then suddenly the quern tipped over, spilling the flour everywhere, much to the intense amusement of Tove and her friends. Annis wanted to sink down on her knees and cry, but instead she forced herself to try to pick the flour up with her hands. It flowed everywhere. A cat jumped into the middle of the dust and began washing its whiskers as the roars grew louder.
A young woman with long teeth said something in rapid Norse, waving her hands and shaking her head.
‘I can do it myself. I made the mess,’ Annis said in Latin and then in Northumbrian.
‘Let me help.’
The woman removed the cat, took a brush and rapidly swept the flour into a pile. She scooped it up into another dish. Annis bit her lip and nodded her thanks.
‘Empty the quern often or else…’ The woman gestured with her hands, mimicking what could happen. ‘This has happened to me before—several times.’
Annis felt a lump grow in her throat. She touched the woman’s hand. ‘Thank you.’
‘Ingrid.’ The woman held up a finger and then said something in very rapid Norse.
Annis put her hand to her chest and took time with her words. ‘Annis. I am called Annis. If you speak slowly, I can understand.’
‘I am Ingrid,’ the woman said, a smile breaking over her face and making it pretty and less like a startled hare. ‘Tove makes mischief. She seeks to share a Jaarl’s bed and perhaps have his child as that would make her future.’
‘What does that have to do with me?’
‘They are wondering if you share Lord Haakon’s bed where you come from, and is this why he brought you here? The Jaarl has never brought a woman here before.’
Annis felt her face flame. ‘No. I am a captive, not a concubine.’
‘They wondered. Many would like to share his bed. He is reputed to be a kind and considerate lover.’
Annis felt her cheeks burn even more as she remembered the kiss they had shared. She should have known that he was an expert in these matters. Perhaps he was like Selwyn with many mistresses, changing them as often as he changed his cloaks. ‘He is more interested in the ransom that he expects to get.’
‘If that is true, then Tove will be very happy.’ Ingrid leant closer. ‘But you will admit—he does have strong arms, and a pleasing face.’
‘Yes, I will give him that.’
The entire room burst out laughing.
Ingrid came over to Annis and took the grinding stone from her again. She poured some barley into the bottom bowl and showed Annis how to do the grinding properly. ‘Like so, yes? Tove always makes the new serving girls grind the barley. Never teaches, but I help.’
A wave of relief washed over as tears pricked Annis’s eyes. She had not expected kindness. Somehow it made her feel less alone. She had made a friend. It had been before Selwyn died that she had had a friend.
‘Can you tell me why cats are allowed in the hall?’
‘Do you not have cats in the kitchen back where you come from?’
Annis shook her head.
Ingrid reached down and picked the black-and-white one up, cradling it in her arms. ‘This is Kisa, and the grey is Fress. They are beloved of the goddess Freya, and help to keep the mice down.’
Annis tried the unfamiliar names out and tentatively reached out a finger. Kisa responded immediately by purring and lifting her head backwards. ‘They are the largest cats I have ever seen.’
‘Kisa likes you. She is very picky about the people she lets stroke her. Cats can tell about people, you know.’ Ingrid gave a decisive nod. ‘I will like you as well, I think.’
Annis started to grind the barley again this time, following Ingrid’s instructions as Kisa settled at her feet.
Annis wiped the sweat from her brow. The sack, which had been full, sagged with only a few handfuls of grain left at the bottom. Two days of grinding barley had been hard work, but she was nearing the end. The only compensation was that she was exhausted at the end of the day and fell asleep next to Ingrid as soon as her eyes closed. No dreams of burning buildings or strong warriors, only blessed oblivion.
She lifted the grinding stone and started to work again.
‘Ow.’
