Taming the Barbarian

5

            It was late morning when Dax returned to camp with Tess. The fog had dispersed, and the sun cut through the clouds. The camp was alive and bustling with activity; washing and meal preparation, woodworking and darning. Dax took Tess to buy the bicep hurrying her along firmly but gentle. His large hand closed completely around her arm. He guided her toward a large tent where a group of women went about their daily duties. Tess watched as they set aside their work to straighten their short hair and skirts as Dax approached; excited smiles gracing every one of their faces. He addressed the ladies in his native tongue. His hand is gesturing to Tess then he nudged her forward.

            They answered in the same language, their accents and mastery of the language contrasting to his own. Dax reached his hand out, taking the chin of a young redhead between his thumb and forefinger tilting her smiling face to his. He spoke softly, and the young girl blushed a rosy pink, Tess noted. She had no idea what he had said but judging from the response he had received she assumed it had been promiscuous. The girl nodded, and Dax released her. His sizeable body turned to Tess blocking her view of the other ladies. “Is something wrong?” He quarried, making the language transition once more.

            He was staring down at her and Tess realized she had been scowling. For some unexplainable reason she did not understand, his favour with these ladies irritated her. “Nothing.” Tess quickly corrected her demeanour to that befitting an English noblewoman. Her shoulders squared, and her posture was commanding. “Besides my captivity, that is. However, I suppose it is a matter in which I have no control.”

            Dax chuckled nodding in agreement. “You are persistent… a quality I find both annoying and endearing. Now, these ladies are going to… how do you say?” He pulled the waist of her dress tighter to fit her better. “… Assist you in making this oversized garment,” he smirked playfully tugging at her shoulders, “more suitable to your structure. Then they will teach you your duties.”

            “My duties?” She scowled. She didn’t work.

            “Everyone pulls their weight if they wish to eat.” He informed her moving past and tapping her bottom as he walked away to join his comrades.

            Tess gasped and covered her bottom with her hands, shocked at his openly roughish behaviour. She paused and glared at him from over her shoulder, a sudden realization coming to her as he walked away. She could not speak his language; how was she to converse with these women? “Wait, how do I speak to them?” She called after him; Dax was already too far by then to hear her. “I do not understand this…”

            “Some of us do speak English.” The redhead spoke, her voice is heavy with that of the Scottish Highlands. She circled Tess eyeing the ill-fitted woollen dress with a trained tailor’s eye. “Ye a wee bonny lass are we not? This will never do. Well, then we ain't accustomed in standing ’bout? We ought to get this waistline in and the hemline up before ye takes a tumble.” She assessed lifting Tess’ skirt to judge the possible length change. “So, what is ye name love?”

            “Lady Barmen.” Tess snipped tugging her dress for the Scotsmen’s hands.

            The woman crossed her arms over her chest, grinning mockingly and chuckling with the others. “Why bless my bottom, we've got ourselves an English Lady.” They laughed only adding to Tess’ discomfort. “First thing ye gots to be learning, your Ladyship, here… ye title and breading means ’bout much as that horse pie.” She clarified, pointing to the path through the camp littered with animal droppings. “Here ye a thrall, that is what they are callin’ a slave, just like the rest of us. Sooner ye get to acceptin’ it the easier things’ll be.”

            Tess took a deep breath. She was unaccustomed to being spoken to in such a manner, but she found over the last few days it seemed to be a reoccurring phenomenon. It appeared she would have to adapt if she were to survive. “I do apologize. I did not wish to offend; I am having some difficulty adjusting to the undesirable circumstances I now find myself in.” Tess sighed, missing the security of her bedchambers, wondering if Dax had been right about there being no rescue on the way. “My Christian name is Tess.”

            “Do not fret lass; we all had trouble adjusting at first. It is perfectly natural, all though I suppose it is much harder ye bein’ nobility and all. Now what ye say we see if we cannot get this dress fittin’ ye right proper.” She smiled, taking Tess by the hand as the group of women engulfed her and led her inside the tent. “Me good name’s Susie, and these fine lasses are Gertrude, Hanna, and Marian. Gertrude’s Irish, but here I don’t hold it ‘gainst her. Hanna and Marian are English like you, but simple peasant folks they were. Hanna’s been travlin’ here with the Norsemen longer than all of us. She has been here going on fifteen years now.”

            “Maybe so but I'm still got some spunk in me.” The plump woman added. Her sausage-like digits planted firmly on her round hips. Despite their circumstances, these women seemed almost happy and good-natured.

            “That she does, that she does.” Susie giggled. “That be why she still be a favourite of old Helom.” She teased suggestively pumping her hips. The women cackled, and Tess could not believe the vulgarity. It was unfitting of a woman to discuss such depravity.

            “He likes the way I cook.” The older woman argued.

            “That and the way you squirm on your back.” Marian chuckled; she was a younger fair-haired woman. She appeared youthful, the lines around her eyes the only tell to her true age. Tall and stalky, her hair dulled and dried by the elements. A plain unnoticeable woman but her smile was bright and infectious. “Do not play dim we all gots ears. Ain’t like the tents are made of stone.”

            “You do not belong to Dax?” Tess quarried; she had assumed that when he told them to instruct her, it was because they all belonged to him.

            “I belong to the Demon, heavens no, if I had that sort of luck, I would be the bloomin’ Queen of England.” Marian snickered playfully tapping Gertrude on the shoulder. All the women are sharing knowing nods.

            “No-no dearie, you be the first one he ever brought back.” Hanna smiled a hint of envy in her tone.

            “The Demon ain't never taken breathin’ spoils before. He normally prefers the gold and jewels to flesh and blood, not like the others. It was a bloody shock to us all; it was when ye was carried into his tent.” Gertrude smirked. She was a pretty enough woman with light chestnut hair and a stout little body. She still stood a good two or three inches higher than Tess; they all did.

            Susie helped Tess to step up on a handmade stool; the women busied themselves with pinning the fabric of her waist and the hem to the proper fit. Tess stood with her arms out at her side, staring down at the busy women. “Demon?” Tess finally asked, the moniker having captured her intrigue. “Why do you call him the Demon?”

            “Ye saw him the night he came for ye,” Gertrude answered. “He comes at ye out of the dark like an evil spirit, a bloomin’ monster almost, enough to scare the life right out of ye it is. People told the stories of the demon man comin’ for them from the waters. Wielding his evil battleaxe craved by the devil himself.”

            “Just silly folktales to scare women and children. He is not the devil in the least, he always is treatin’ us all fair like; but he soon became known as the Demon Dax.” Susie added. “A fittin’ warrior’s name if ye ask me.”

            “And a fun pet name.” Giggled Marian getting a chuckle from the others ladies.

            “Ye be right ’bout that, he got astounding powers in the hay, almost a devious magic ’bout him. As I am sure our new young friend has discovered.” Susie smirked noting Tess’ blushing complexion.

            “I have not.” She snapped offended by the suggestion.

            “Well, ye will,” Susie promised.

            “Have you…” Tess began curiously, feeling improper for her interest in the matter. The whole conversation was so undignified.

            “Taken a romp in the hay with the Demon?” Susie crudely completed Tess’ hesitant thought. “Half the lasses in this here camp have had the pleasure. Thrall or maiden we all be clamouring for his favour, and that be this camp. Dax has a way ’bout him, no matter where he is, he ain’t never short on female company.”

            “He has two great loves in his life. The battlefield and the bed, if he ain’t on one, he is in the other.” Marian winked.

            “We have all had a go at him, well most of us.” Gertrude smiled apologetically at Hanna; she was far too old for his liking. “Dax himself prefers thralls and wenches, see they do not be expected commitment. He ain’t in the market for a wife.”

            “Not that they expect marriage for virtue like back home,” Hanna added waving the dirty washing she held in her hands, “but I suspect that Dax just prefers not to have to disappoint daddies.”  

            “I must admit I am envious,” Gertrude said. “He hasn’t let me in his bed in years.”

            “We all are. The man is magnificent. Such talent. Such stamina.” Marian giggled pinning up the last of Tess’ skirt. “He has lost interest in us long ago. His attention span with women is rather limited; his true love is the sea. He bores quickly of women, so enjoy your time, it will be over far too soon, and then you’ll be banished from his bed and forced to covet him from afar like the rest of the camp.”

            “Women ’round the world will weep the day he takes a bride. See Dax be considered quite the catch amongst the Norse. He excels in all they hold in high regard. He is young, and already they tell sagas of his deeds and adventures from village to village. He has built his wealth and secured his place in the afterlife. There is not a family among them that would not welcome him with their daughters.” Susie added with wishful thinking. “Oh well, no point in dwelling on what will never be. Take off the dress, and I will get the alterations underway. We will have ye fittin’ ye dress by the evening meal, for now, ye can wear one of mine, and the lasses will show ye how to wash clothing. I suspect Dax needs some washin’ after three weeks on the water. After which we will get ye cookin’. Norsemen tend to get testy if they do not eat on time.”

            They all paused when a horn sounded. One long sound and then fading away. Ignoring the interruption Susie helped Tess off the stool and out of her dress. “What was that?” Tess asked

            “They all be called to the Thing; there must be some matters to discuss.”

            “Thing?” Tess asked, lost in the conversation once more.

            “It is what they call their congregation of their best men when there are some goings-on to be discussed,” Susie explained. “Ye see in Norse society they have themselves a leader, a king of sorts and he has a council of men who earned their place on the battlefield. They discuss and vote on matters that affect the whole. A council of people for the people not like your bloody monocracy and nobility. It is real social equality for men and women alike.”

            “Except for us slaves and the ones they sell,” Tess argued.

“Well, yes, except for that.” Susie agreed. “But if you keep your head down and do as you are told, it is not that bad.” She assured Tess. “Now hop down lass and let’s get ye to work.”