A Meeting with the devil
part 1

The fields were silent but for the rustle of wind through the dying stalks. Sigrid’s hands moved swiftly, the cold biting her fingers, though she barely noticed. She worked harder than anyone, her focus unbroken even as her breath clouded in the crisp air. 

Leif lingered close, his easy laughter breaking the silence. Yet no matter how kind his words, they fell hollow against the void growing inside her. Ragnar and Bjørn were gone, and with each passing day, their absence pressed harder on her heart.

When winter arrived, it blanketed the valley in an eerie stillness. The snow gleamed like silver under the pale sun, the air sharp and biting. Sigrid pulled her woolen cloak tight and ignored Thora’s amused warning. 
“It’s too cold,” Thora said. 
Sigrid smiled faintly. “Not for me.” 

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

Then, out of nowhere—a sharp impact to the back of her head. She shot up, her hand going instinctively to the spot as her gaze darted through the trees. Laughter echoed, low and familiar. 

“Ragnar,” she hissed, her heart leaping as his grinning face emerged from the shadows. Snow still clung to his hands, ready for another throw. 

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

He ran swiftly toward the woods, his steps quick and sure. When she finally reached the spot where he had been, 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, she was completely taken aback. With a sudden leap, he sprang from the shadows and caught her in his arms.

She gasped in surprise, her heart leaping 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 swiftly buried his strong and well-defined jawline in the soft, powdery snow.

"I surrender," he cried out, his voice full of defeat.

"Where have you been?" She asked, both confused and excited, 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!"

"Well, someone gossiped to father about that kiss, so he sent me away so with my uncle for a time, as punishment."

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

"Yes. No one else knew?" He looked at her intently.

"Well..." she gave him a guilty look.

"So it wasn't you? The red-haired one? Leif, or Bjørn?" He called out, almost incredulously.

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

"I know you've missed me," he teased.

"No," she said, making a face.

"I have missed you," he said suddenly, so seriously that she had to throw a snowball at his head to distract herself from the awkwardness.

"Relax," he teased.
"I spoke with someone who met your brother," he said suddenly serious.

"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?" He asked, surprised.

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

"You did what?" He burst out 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 indicate that she hadn't given Ragnar a single thought when it came to marriage.

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

She didn't answer, but gave him a teasing look.

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

She stood up. "Not that it's any of your business, but yes, it did," she replied, and rose to her feet.

He quickly rose and followed her. "I knew it!" he shouted.

She stopped and gave him a stern look.

"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! The fact that he cares for a child that isn't his own speaks more of his goodness," she said sharply, her words cutting through the cold air.

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

"You're right," he finally 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.

"The problem is, I don't trust you. Not at all. And I could never marry someone I don't trust."

Ragnar remained silent, as if he knew that no words could change how she felt now. She could hear his breath in the cold air, but he said nothing more. The silence between them was heavy, and she felt a strange mix of relief and unease.

Her thoughts turned to Sigurd, the words Ragnar had spoken weighing heavily 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 too deeply, and she couldn't let it go. Instead, she drowned herself in the work-tending to the horses and milking the cows.

But each passing day, her unease grew. Was Sigurd going to come for her? She knew what he was capable of. She knew how far he would go to get what he wanted, if it benefited him.

She had no doubt that he would stop at nothing to get his way. Whether he was trying to quiet the rumors, or if he truly 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 knew he wouldn't hesitate to make it happen if it suited his needs.

She had to face him, even though it was the last thing she wanted.

But the Christmas preparations took all her time. It was her first Christmas without her family. She had always looked forward to Christmas and the traditions.

She was going to miss her mother and Åsmund especially now. And Gudbrand. And Thorstein. Even Sigurd had behaved himself during Christmas.

As Christmas drew near, the farm was thoroughly cleaned, and nature was brought into the living room.
It was decorated with spruce, pine, and bushes, which were hung in doors and windows.

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

When Christmas Eve approached, she knew that her family would go to church as usual. It made her think of Sigurd again.

Then, one rare day when Erik, who was always busy with something, was alone with her, she finally gathered the courage to ask.

"I know it's a lot to ask. But can you help me arrange a meeting on Christmas Eve? And can you get this letter to Sigurd before the
service? She knew that if anyone had connections everywhere, it was him. And he knew the priest very well.

He looked at her with his calm gaze and tried again to read her.
"I could probably 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," she admitted. "But it has to be this way. I need an answer. 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, to her surprise.

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

She felt the tears welling up and quickly had to pull her hand away and say her thanks before the tears took over. For she knew very well that her own father would never have spoken such words.

She told no one what would happen on Christmas Eve. Not even Thora.

She wrote a note in ink:

"I know your secret. Thora told me. If you don't do as I say, everyone will find out. Meet me at the old chapel."

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

She got up in the pitch-black morning on Christmas Eve with the feeling that 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 knew she would need, she thought quietly to herself in the foggy early morning hour.

Completely 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, in an attempt to be prepared and ready.

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

Each galloping hoofbeat on the snow-covered road reminded her of what was at stake. She had never felt more alone and abandoned.

She arrived at the church just as the darkness began to give way, with the first light of sunrise peeking through. The church stood there, like a tower of stone, with an aura of silence as if it knew that something terrible was about to happen.

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. It was large and majestic, and she found a place behind it-a spot where she could conceal herself.

There she sat, nervous, her heart pounding in her chest in what felt like an eternity. With the knowledge that Sigurd would soon be standing before her, and that she would have to look him directly in those dark, bottomless, evil eyes.