Meet the Devil, Part 1

When winter arrived, it blanketed the valley in an eerie stillness. The snow gleamed like silver under the pale sun. Sigrid pulled her woolen cloak tight.

"It's too cold," Thora said.

Sigrid smiled. "Not for me."

The snow crunched beneath her boots as she strode into the forest, and the wind stung her cheeks. She let herself fall into the snow, the cold seeping through her cloak as she stared up at the sky.

While she lay there deep in thought, a blow struck the back of her head. She shot up, her gaze darting through the trees.

"Ragnar," she said, a little too excited. Her heart jumped as his grinning face emerged from the shadows. A new snowball was already in his hand.

"Come here!" She started rolling a snowball, but he was already far off, heading toward the woods. She had to hurry to catch up.

He ran toward the woods. When she reached his spot, she found no trace of him. A sudden chill ran through her as she hurried down the hill, the snow crunching beneath her feet.

But as she turned back toward the dark woods, his leap from the shadows completely surprised her. He sprang from the shadows and caught her in his arms.

She gasped in surprise, her heart high in her chest. Before she could react, they tumbled, rolling together down the hill, laughing and grappling in the snow.

She landed atop him, breathless, and without hesitation, she buried his strong and well-defined jawline in the soft, powdery snow.

"I surrender," he said while laughing.

"Why were you gone?" Her lips curving into a smile that she could not hide.

"Do you pretend you know nothing of it?" He asked, grinning. The deep-set and intense ice-blue eyes radiated playfulness.

"No. By my honor!"

"The kiss we shared came to Father's ears, so he sent me away to dwell with my uncle for a while as punishment."

"Wait! You think it was me who told?"

"Yes. No one else knew?" He stared at her.

"Well..." she gave him a grin.

"So it wasn't you? The red-haired one? Leif, or Bjørn?"

"I won't say." She shook her head, though she was certain it had been Leif. She annoyed herself for trusting him.

"Well, I bet you've missed me."

"I haven't," she grimaced.

"I have missed you." He said, meeting her gaze intensely.

"Well, I admit I have given you some thought."

"I knew it."

"Relax," she said, and buried his face in the snow again before he stopped her from leaving.

"I actually spoke with someone who met your brother."

"Sigurd? Oh, I see."

"He doesn't give up. He's going around telling people you're still going to marry Knut. I'm afraid he's planning something."

"What? After what I told my father? How dare he!"

"What did you tell your father?"

"That I was going to tell everyone I had been with every man on this farm if they tried anything."

"You did what?" He said, laughing. "But I think you only have one choice."

"And that is?"

"To marry someone else, of course. Then you will be free of him."

"And who would that be to? Bjørn?" She made a silly face to show that she hadn't given Ragnar a single thought for marriage.

"Why do you say his name? I thought you said there was nothing between you?"

She didn't answer but gave him a teasing glance.

"Can you be honest with me? Did something happen between you and Bjørn while I was gone?"

She stood up. "It's none of your concern, however, yes," she declared, standing.

He rose and followed her. "I had a feeling about it!"

She paused and gave him a stern expression.

"Your cousin is by far the safest choice, Ragnar."

"I promise, I'm a changed man now." He straightened and brushed some snow off her cloak.

She pulled back. "You told lies, by the way!"

"Did Bjørn say that? No, I've never heard such nonsense!"

"You told me he had a woman with child, but it was his brother! His dead brother! That he cares for a child that isn't his own speaks more of his goodness."

Ragnar fell silent, and she turned her back to him again.

"You're right," he said, his voice softening. "Bjørn is a good man. But he is not perfect. He has flaws, like all of us."

She stopped, her feet sinking into the snow, and for a moment, she considered his words.

"And Sigrid, just so you know-because someone spoke of the kiss, my father now demands that I marry without delay. So do not take too long before you decide."

"The problem is, I do not trust you, Ragnar. Not in the least. And I could never wed a man I do not trust."

Ragnar remained silent; she could hear his breath in the cold air, but he said nothing more as she turned to leave.

Her thoughts turned to Sigurd, the words Ragnar had spoken weighing on her. She had to admit, a part of her found them unsettling.

She avoided Leif, even though she missed their talks. But the betrayal stung, and she couldn't let it go. Instead, she drowned herself in the work-tending to the horses and milking the cows.

But with each passing day, her unease grew. Was Sigurd going to come for her? She knew what he was capable of. He would stop at nothing to get his way. Whether he was trying to quiet the rumors or if he had a plan to marry her off to Knut, she couldn't say, but the suspicion gnawed at her.

The fear that Sigurd might come to claim her was very real. She feared the worst-and deep down, she sensed he wouldn't hesitate to make it happen if it suited his needs.

Christmas preparations took all her time, and it was her first Christmas without her family.

She'd miss her family; even Sigurd behaved during Christmas.

As it drew near, they cleansed the farm and brought nature into the living room.

The farm was decorated with spruce, pine, and bushes hung in the doors and windows.

The wonderful smell of the forest, spices, and pine filled the rooms, and she felt the Christmas spirit.

She was aware that her family would attend church as always. It made her think of Sigurd again.

A rare moment alone with Erik, usually busy, gave her courage. "I know it's a lot to ask. But can you help me arrange a meeting on Christmas Eve and get a letter to Sigurd before the service?"

She understood that if anyone had connections everywhere, it was him.

He looked at her with his calm gaze and tried again to read her.

"I could manage it if I wanted to. But are you sure you want this? I've noticed how you shrink like a shadow at the sound of his name."

"You've noticed correctly, but it has to be this way. I know I'm just a burden to you, and I'm sorry for that," she said, clenching her fists.

He examined her face one last time. "As you wish. Write the note, and I'll make sure the rest goes as you want."

She was about to leave, but he took hold of her hand.

"You're not a burden to anyone here. If you were my daughter, you would inherit the farm," he said, fixing his gaze into her eyes. "I see you, Sigrid; don't think otherwise. No one else works and toils like you."

Overcome with emotion, she thanked him, pulling her hand away to avoid crying. Her father would never say that.

She told no one what would happen on Christmas Eve. Not even Thora, and she wrote a note in ink:

Thora told me what you almost did.
Meet me alone at the old chapel.
Sigrid.

She sealed the letter with a trembling hand. Erik would make sure it reached him when he entered the church. That way, surprise would catch him, and the contents would lead him there alone.

Rising in the pitch-black morning on Christmas Eve, she felt like she was on her way to her own funeral.

She put on the old woolen cloak with a hood and the gold brooch she had inherited from her grandmother. Perhaps this would give her some of the strength she would need.

Alone, she went out to the stable and prepared the horse. The silence in the empty hallways was almost overwhelming. She had to leave before the others, to be prepared and ready.

The biting winter air cut through her skin, but she was determined to go through with meeting Sigurd, despite the fear that lay like a heavy lump in her stomach.

She reached the church at dawn's first light.

Sigrid took a deep breath before pulling the heavy, black cloak closer around herself, as if it might offer her some protection.

Inside the church, it was silent except for the soft sounds of her footsteps. She entered the side chapel. There, in the dark corner, stood the altar. Its size and majesty offered her concealment.

She sat nervously, knowing that Sigurd would soon stand before her, and she would have to look at him in those dark, bottomless, evil eyes.

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