Vikings: Nordic women

Chapter 62: Sixty-two Death Notices
“I am a widow who runs a tavern in Barnia on my own. After my husband died, I inherited his estate, including this tavern.

However, life was not easy, the tavern business was always slow, and often there were few customers. In order to make a living, I had to rely on selling my own wine to make a living.

However, my life is not as simple as running a tavern. The lord seems to have taken an interest in my tavern. He often visits my tavern and his attitude is extremely bad.

Not only would he force me to provide him and his soldiers with free drinks, he would verbally and physically abuse me, and sometimes he would force his way into my tavern when I was alone and even assault me.

Although I worked hard to run the business, the lord's harassment made it impossible for me to take care of the tavern's business. Every time he came, I had to swallow my anger and dared not resist. The lord's behavior not only exhausted me physically and mentally, but also made me lose the confidence to continue running the business.

I thought about leaving here, but I didn't have enough resources and ability to start over.

I often feel helpless and desperate because women have a very low status in this society, especially widows like me who have lost their husbands' protection. I can only rely on my meager income to make ends meet, and the harassment of the lord has plunged me into a deeper predicament.

I hope that one day I can get rid of this predicament and no longer be bullied. However, in this world full of oppression and injustice, my wish seems out of reach. I can only cry alone at night and pray that one day I can change my fate. "

Margaret nodded. "What is the relationship between these people and the lord who harassed you? Why do you hate them so much?"

“Once, after the lord’s banquet, he suddenly came to the tavern and spoke obscene words to me, and asked me to go to bed with him.

I refused him because the lord even brought lords from other territories, who seemed to find it fun to mistreat me and joined in the insults and violence against me.

I felt so scared and helpless that I could only let them do whatever they wanted. I thought this would last a long time, but I was relieved when you showed up and killed him with your soldiers! Thank you again for giving me the chance to take revenge and let me kill my enemy! "

Margaret sighed, not knowing what to say. She felt that if she were the other person, she would be in great pain.

She stepped on the soft grass, walked back and forth a few steps, and thought for a moment. There was no doubt that Lisa, who had experience in tavern management, was the talent she needed.

"Since you are also a Norse, are you willing to work for me? I need to open a tavern and need someone to be in charge, but don't worry, no one will bully you anymore!"

"I am willing!"

"Okay!" Margaret took off the ring necklace from her neck, put it on her finger and held it tightly, and stretched out her hand to the other party, "This is the oath ring of the Gotland family. According to the ancient tradition, swear to it that you will become my retainer! Come, repeat after me!"

"I, Lisa, swear to be loyal to my lord, Queen Margaret Robertson Duti, and your family. I swear that your enemies are my enemies..."

At this critical moment, a soldier came hurriedly to report that Ms. Polly had arrived at the port of Barnia Town. Margaret couldn't wait to greet her.

However, looking at those people, she hesitated and stopped. She didn't dare to go over, she was afraid.

She didn't know how to face the families of the 62 warriors. Should she tell them the sad news?

She felt that she was not ready to face their questioning yet.

Margaret turned and left. She told her attendants: "Go pick some flowers, and then give me the list of the dead! Also prepare some gold..."

Her eyes were wet with tears and she could no longer speak, but she knew that she needed to give an explanation to the families of the fallen soldiers.

Sometimes she felt like she really was a monster.

Perhaps she should continue to stay on Gotland and veto expansion, but she knew that she had to conquer a large enough territory for her people, future generations, and herself.

The Chinese ancestors have long said that a bad environment is always more terrible than war.

"Your Majesty?" Old Florent noticed her hasty departure and stepped forward to greet her. However.

Margaret nodded. She had no time to care about anything else at the moment. She just said a few perfunctory words and told him to handle the matter. She then told the soldiers to take Polly to the temporary lord's hall.

At this time, the fleet slowly returned, this was just the return of the first batch of immigrants. And the names of the soldiers who died heroically have also been listed one by one.

"Are you sure?" Margaret looked at Little Sigrun with a serious look. The other party nodded silently, conveying his determination in silence.

Flowers and gold have been delivered to her, and the family of a soldier on the list of dead soldiers was also invited to the small house in front of her. This is a place of comfort she specially prepared for the families of the dead soldiers.

Margaret leaned against the wooden wall, her eyes looking up at the distant sky, but her steps seemed to be fixed by cement, making it difficult for her to move.

She finally understood why Xiang Yu, the King of Chu, was hesitant and dared not cross the river.

"Your Majesty, let me go and notify them on your behalf!" Little Sigrun suggested in a low voice, "You don't have to endure this pain."

"No!" Margaret shook her head slightly, her tone firm, "This responsibility cannot be replaced by anyone. You don't have to follow."

"Your Majesty, what if there is danger?" Little Sigrun asked with concern.

"I completely trust the families of the soldiers who gave their lives for me, just as I trust you." Margaret's face was heavy as she walked into the house step by step.

Inside the house, an old woman was wiping the table absentmindedly, apparently unaware of the coming grief.

"Mrs. Kara?" Margaret asked softly.

"You are, Her Majesty?" The old woman's face showed an expression of surprise and honor. She looked at the flowers, parchment and bag of gold in Margaret's hands.

"Why are you here in person?"

"Please sit down." Margaret gently invited her to sit down and handed the flowers to her. "This is to express my respect and gratitude."

"Thank you!" Mrs. Kara took the bouquet and smiled, "They are really beautiful."

Margaret was at a loss for words, she didn't know how to convey the sad news of her child's death to a mother.

Under Mrs. Kara's increasingly puzzled gaze, Margaret gently placed the bag of gold in front of her.

"This is your son's spoils of war, and...the pension." Margaret's voice trembled, and she felt an overwhelming sense of guilt in her heart.

"Oh..." Madam Kara stared at the bag on the table, then looked up at Margaret with deep understanding and tenderness in her eyes, "Your Majesty, in fact, when I was led to this room, I had a premonition that Olaf was here, and he was looking at me accompanied by the Valkyrie."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Kara." Margaret's voice was full of sadness.

"Don't be sad, Your Majesty. I know your decision is right. Our people need a better place to live." Mrs. Kara's rough hand gently covered Margaret's hand, conveying warmth and strength. "Olaf has gone to Valhalla to be with his father and the god Woden."

"Did he fight well?" She stared at Margaret. "Did he give you any trouble? He does have a bad temper, and sometimes he is a little impatient."

She paused, a gleam of reminiscence flashing in her eyes: "He has never met his father, but he has had the adventurous spirit of a Viking since he was a child, and always dreamed of sailing to the sea and exploring the unknown world. He inherited his father's fighting skills and his desire for bravery. He once said that he hoped that one day he could become a brave warrior like his father, go to Valhalla, and meet his father..."

Mrs. Kara kept telling Olaf's past, and every word was filled with nostalgia and pride for her son.

Margaret listened patiently, and her heart grew heavier.

What she feared was not the blame or scolding from the families of the fallen soldiers, but the deep sorrow and understanding before her.

Mrs. Kara did not blame her, but her heart seemed to be pressed by a heavy stone and breathing became difficult.

Because she knows what it feels like to lose a loved one, and she can relate to that. She dreams, a lot.

(End of this chapter)