The knight

Her heart sank further when she saw he wasn't alone. Two others stood beside him, their faces unfamiliar but their presence no less threatening.

Her first instinct was to duck behind the jagged rocks jutting out of the water, to make herself invisible. But she quickly realized it was pointless. His sharp, knowing gaze was locked onto her, and the smug grin curling his lips made it clear-he had been waiting for this.

He stood there smugly, holding her nightgown.

"I knew I'd get my revenge one day," he called out proudly.

"Ragnar! This isn't honorable. If your father saw you now-"

"My father's not here. So why don't you come get your nightgown? You don't have a choice." They all laughed.

She understood she had two options: stay in the water or go ashore.

"No, I shall remain here—for eternity, if it must be so."

"We've got time!" Ragnar sat down on the rocks.

She swam farther away, feeling a deep anger bubble inside her. How dare he risk her honor like this? He was no honorable man, and now she understood with certainty-he was no man for her. At least she had learned that much.

They called her name mockingly from the shore.

She realized there was only one way out: Through the water. The inner part of the lake was surrounded by steep cliffs, impossible to climb. She was trapped in the small cove.

Her only hope lay in swimming beyond the forest’s edge, though the open plain beyond offered little promise of escape.

She could also try to hide in the woods, hoping to find a spot where they couldn't see her. The risk was high either way.

"I can't wait any longer!" Ragnar suddenly yelled from the shore. "My patience is gone! I'm coming to get you!"

She had an idea.

She saw Ragnar beginning to undress. She slowly moved toward the direction of the forest.

"Oh, just try it! I'm much faster than you in the water!" She taunted.

Sigrid’s pulse thundered in her ears as she glanced toward the shoreline. Ragnar stood there, stripping off his tunic, his laughter echoing mockingly across the water. Her breath caught in her throat; she had no time to waste.

Without a second thought, she took a deep breath and dove beneath the surface. The water was icy, biting against her skin, but she welcomed the cold—it sharpened her senses.

The world above vanished, replaced by the muted sounds of the lake: the distant ripple of water and her own heartbeat pounding like a drum.

She swam with powerful strokes, her arms slicing through the darkness. The reeds brushed against her fingertips, eerie and unfamiliar, as if trying to hold her back. Her lungs began to burn, but she pushed forward, unwilling to surface and risk being seen.

Above her, Ragnar’s voice shouted, “Where did she go?” The panic in his tone was a small triumph, but it was fleeting. Sigrid knew they would not give up so easily.

Her chest ached as the need for air clawed at her resolve. She broke the surface for a split second, gasping quietly before slipping back under. Her movements grew more frantic as she swam toward the shelter of the forested shoreline.

A sudden splash behind her sent a jolt of terror through her. He was in the water. The sound of him thrashing and the laughter of his companions reached her ears, but she didn’t dare turn to look. She kicked harder, her legs churning the water like a frightened doe fleeing the hunter.

The shadows of the trees grew closer, and she spotted a thick cluster of reeds up ahead. With a final burst of strength, she reached them, plunging into their safety. She clung to the stems, her chest heaving as she struggled to silence her breaths.

She ducked beneath the water again, her hair tangling in the reeds as she listened. The shoreline was still far too exposed, and her mind raced with desperation. How could she escape unseen?

When she dared to lift her head once more, she spotted Ragnar wading deeper into the lake, his arms flailing as he cursed. He was searching for her, but he had no idea where she was. The darkness of the water and her quick thinking had bought her precious moments.

Now hidden among the reeds, she felt a surge of determination. If Ragnar wanted a game, she would make him regret it.

She swam deeper into the forested area, adrenaline still rushing through her.

Sigrid crept from the water, her limbs trembling from cold and exhaustion. Every sound—the rustling of leaves, the snap of a distant branch—set her nerves on edge. She pressed her back against the rough bark of a gnarled tree, desperately trying to shield herself.

Her breath hitched as a figure emerged from the shadows. A tall man, cloaked in the gloom of the forest, stepped forward. The moonlight caught the gleam of chainmail beneath his tunic, and his steady gaze fell on her. 

The man knelt, his movements slow and deliberate, as though not to startle her. “Hush,” he said, his voice deep but calm. He placed a bundle of soft fabric over her. 

"Hide. They’re coming. I’ll lead them away.” 

His words were firm, and though her instincts screamed caution, she obeyed without question. She crouched low behind the bushes, her breath shallow as she watched him stride into the open. 

Ragnar’s voice rang out, harsh and impatient. “Where is she?” 

The man stepped into the clearing, his presence commanding. “Who wanders the forest at this hour?” He called, his tone sharp and unyielding.

"Bjørn?" Ragnar replied, clearly surprised. "What are you doing here so early? I thought you weren't expected until tomorrow."

So, they knew each other. Her heart sank, fearing she had been foolish to trust the stranger.

“I came early,” Bjørn replied smoothly. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, and his eyes bore into Ragnar with quiet authority. “Why are you out here, disturbing the woods?”  

Ragnar hesitated, glancing back at his companions. “We… thought we saw someone near the lake.”  

Bjørn arched a brow. “The lake? I passed by there not long ago and saw no one. But I heard a commotion farther down the meadow. Should I assist you?”  

“No need,” Ragnar said quickly, though unease crept into his voice. “We’ll handle it.”  

“Very well.” Bjørn’s voice was measured, but there was steel beneath it. “I’ll leave you to your search, then.”  

Sigrid held her breath as Ragnar and his men retreated, their footsteps fading into the distance. When all was silent, Bjørn returned, kneeling before her hiding place.

You’re safe now,” he said softly. 

Sigrid clutched the cloak tighter around her, her voice barely a whisper. “Why… why did you help me?” 

His dark eyes softened as he studied her. “Because what they were doing was shameful. And because no one should face such humiliation.” 

For the first time, she noticed the emblem on his cloak—the king’s crest. Her heart twisted with both relief and unease. This man was not just any knight; he was of royal standing. 

"Are you alright?" He asked. His otherwise perfect face bore a small scar above his upper lip. She thought it made him even more handsome."

"Yes," she sobbed quietly, clutching the black cloak he had given her.

"My cousin can be shameless," he sighed.

"Cousin?" Sigrid realized now who he was. This was the knight the girls had spoken about at the market.

When he helped her to her feet, she saw his dark, curly hair falling to his shoulders. He looked tall and strong. Even Erik Gustavson would have seemed ordinary standing next to this man.

"Don't be afraid," he said softly. "I'm not like him."

"I believe you," she replied.

"I'll see you home. Where do you live?"

"For now, I reside in your cousin's household," she admitted, her gaze dropping in shame.

"Ah, I see. Are you sure you want to return?" He asked, hesitating.

"Yes, I have nowhere else to go. I was just stupid and restless, so I went for a swim in the night."

"I must say, you are quite the swimmer! I was impressed."

"So... you saw everything?" She spoke shyly.

"I heard the clamor as I arrived and saw Ragnar and his companions, along with a figure in the water. It took me some time to realize it was a maiden. Fear not; I shall remain until Erik arrives and will tell him everything."

"You cannot! No one must know. It sounds ill in any case. Those lads will spread word far and wide that I lay exposed in the water. It will not be long before my father learns where I am."

"I shall beg Ragnar for mercy," she said sorrowfully.

"I have a better plan," he said.

He fetched more clothes from his sack and turned away. Cold as ice and still wet, she at last managed to dress and wrapped the cloak tightly around herself once more.

He mounted his horse and stretched down a hand.
"Now," he said, "it is best that you close your eyes."

She did, and he drove the horse into a full gallop, holding her in his arms as if she were but a child.

When they arrived, he leapt down from the horse with her in his arms, as though she weighed nothing, and nearly kicked the door open.

"Help!" He cried. "I have found a drowned maiden in the sea!"

She heard the voices of the servants and, soon after, Ragnar from somewhere behind. And Leif as well.

"Let me see!" Ragnar shouted.

"'Sigrid!" Leif cried out.

"We must lay her down somewhere," Bjørn said.

"Is she dead?" Ragnar yelled.

"I believe she will live, but she must be warmed. Bring blankets!"

A great many blankets were brought forth and laid upon her.

She made soft, whimpering sounds and twisted in discomfort.

"What happened?" Leif demanded angrily.

"I found her in the water."

Ragnar stood silent.

She stirred, disoriented, and cautiously opened her eyes.

"Everyone out! Except for Leif, she needs some peace now." Bjørn commanded sternly.

"What happened?" Leif asked.

She slowly rose to a sitting position.
Leif gently brushed the damp hair from her brow.

"What were you doing in the water, Sigrid?"

"In the water? I must have walked in my sleep." She caught sight of Ragnar standing at the far end of the hall.

"I am weary," she murmured.

"Show me the room, Leif." Said Bjørn, lifting her effortlessly.

Thora nearly leapt from her bed as Bjørn threw open the door to the chamber, sending a clay jar shattering to the floor.

"What has happened?" She cried, her eyes wide as they landed upon Sigrid.

"Bjørn found her in the water," Leif explained.

"Bjørn?" Thora's voice faltered as she glanced up at him, confusion clouding her face. Sigrid could have sworn she saw Thora blush.

"Well played," Bjørn whispered softly to Sigrid as he laid her gently upon the bed.

"She was sleepwalking," said Leif, "and nearly drowned in the water. But she needs rest now."

"Sigrid clutched Thora's hand and mumbled, 'I will tell you everything tomorrow."

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