Nena by Ann Boelter (digital book reader txt) 📕

both assumed she would be a natural at it, and Jalla had been ecstatic when she had voiced her interest to try that morning. An interest that had quickly waned. It was unbelievably boring. Nena had yet to put in a half a day and could barely stand to look at the tall frame. She had no aptitude for the unbroken focus required for the monotonous job. No matter how hard she tried, soon after starting, she found her thoughts drifting, while her body continued to awkwardly go through the motions.

She envied the young girls who had the job of beating the fleece with long forked paddles to separate the fibers for spinning. Even though it was a lower status job, at least they were moving and doing something. Standing still for hours was torture in itself, but worse was that she could not control her wandering thoughts.

How could her life that had seemed so full, so complete and on track before, feel so hollow? Her warrior days were over, or practically over, and the prospect of life as a tribal woman extended out before her now as interminable monotony. She would be expected to bear children, and many of them, and while the idea of remaining in the village rearing children had never sounded exciting to her before, now, after this time with Jarl, it seemed absolutely dismal. She found herself wondering if she could find the herb. She would recognize it now if she saw it growing. Altene always had a ready supply, so it had to grow freely.

Do not dare to think such things! The gods will be furious. You should want to have children with a Teclan warrior. It is natural.

Natural or not, Nena did not feel it. Altene’s words echoed in her mind. “While you are lying with your Dor husband with club hands, I’ll be enjoying his touch.” When Altene had first said it, Nena had thought the idea ridiculous. Now when she thought of Jarl’s tenderness, of their passionate connection, then imagined herself with a stone-faced Teclan man, her stomach convulsed.

You could have such a relationship with Gentok. You do not know how he is in the privacy of his tent. Maybe he is sensitive and playful, too, after sharing furs. None of the other Northmen would have believed how Jarl was with you in private—that their strict warrior leader could have a side like that. You don’t know—Gentok could be the same.

But Nena did know. Before her capture, she had listened to the women of her village talk in the baths about their private time with their men. Not one had ever described a man like Jarl. Nena closed her eyes and tried to will herself to clear her mind of the troubling thoughts and focus back on her task.

Fast approaching pounding hooves interrupted her deliberation. An outrider slid his lathered horse to a stop in front of her father’s tent, its hooves leaving deep furrows in the soft ground. She watched the man leap from his horse, shout something through the tent opening, then hurry inside. His urgency was strange. Her father and the outrider exited together shortly thereafter and made their way to the council tent where another messenger was dispatched. Soon warriors from all over the village were joining them inside.

Nena knew she could still enter the council tent as a warrior, and though she was beyond curious, she didn’t join the others she saw on their way. She would not hold that position for long; there was no sense becoming involved in that capacity now. She would choose Gentok today—would have chosen him already if he had not been on guard duty at the gates. She reminded herself this was the natural order of things, and that she needed to concern herself with more feminine pursuits from now on. She tried to ignore the excited activity, but the mysterious events unfolding inside the council tent beckoned her with far more appeal than the tedious task in front of her.

“There are Northmen at the cliff gates.” A young man made the breathless announcement to the women in the weaving area.

“How many?” Jalla asked.

“Only a small scouting party,” he replied.

“What are they doing? Are they trying to enter?” A woman holding a newborn baby asked nervously, her face tense with worry.

“No one knows why they are there. They have not yet tried to pass. They seem to be setting up camp there, just outside.”

Nena’s heart lurched. Jarl. She felt a sudden crazy urge to find a horse and race to join the cliff guards so that maybe she could catch a glimpse of him—to know for sure if it was he who was there. But what would be the point? Nothing had changed. Even if he had tracked her here, so what? He wouldn’t be able to pursue her any further, and he would not be able to stay. Once he saw she was inside the gates, surely he would go.

Only dimly aware of the questions flying around her, Nena hung the thread shuttle on its hook on the side of the loom frame and walked toward the council tent. Feminine pursuits would have to wait. Lifting the flap to the council tent, she stepped inside. She heard her brother talking before she could see him. The excitement in his voice was unmistakable.

“What are we waiting for?” Lothor demanded. “We can easily wipe them out. I’ll gather a group of warriors and we’ll ride out right now and finish them.”

“You will do no such thing,” her father said.

“Why not? They are but few.”

“You will send out scouting parties in all directions to confirm the Northmen’s numbers, and to verify there are not more waiting somewhere else. This is not like them—more like one would expect from a trap.”

“Yes, Father,” Lothor deferred, but Nena could tell it took great effort for him to do so.

“Once we have that information, I’ll make a decision.” Her father paused, having seen her enter. “Good,