She could feel him watching her as she combed Frigga’s hair. So desperately she tried to bury her fear. So stiffly she held that comb to stop her hands from shaking. Even now, after living with them all through the summer, he still terrified her. She still felt the sharp sting of his belt against her legs and the pain of his hand gripping her wrist whenever he was close.

“Hilda is right.” he said, “No more of your Christ-god stories.”

For a moment she froze, for a moment she felt like nodding just to make sure that he would leave her alone; but then she started combing Frigga’s hair again.

“They don’t believe them anyway.” she said.

“Doesn’t matter.” he said, “I said no, so that’s it.”

She turned to him, her lips closed in a tight line, her eyes narrowing into thin slits.

“You brought me here, Ivar.” she said, “You know what I am. I can’t change that.”

For a long while he only stared at her. For a long while there was nothing but silence; but then he asked “Why not?”

She looked at him, watching him lean back against the table on his elbow and twirl his knife between his fingers.

“Can you change your gods?” she asked.

“Why would I?” he said, his head tilting to the side. “My gods are real.”

“No, your belief in them is real.” she said, “That doesn’t make what you believe in right. There is only one true God.”

She watched those sky-blue eyes, how they travelled all over her face before coming to rest on Frigga beside her. For a moment he was soft and warm, for a moment he was someone else; but then he sat up, gripping his knife tightly in his hand and pointing it at Enid.

“Enough.” he said, “I said no more.”

Enid turned away, clenching her jaw and feeling that wince spring to her face. It was only a fruit knife. Surely, he could not kill her with it. Surely, she should know by now that he could.

“Or what?” she asked, “Will you whip me again, Ivar?”

That was when she felt his fingers in her hair, gripping and pulling her back towards him. When she had to stifle that scream that she felt building inside her and those tears from spilling from her eyes.’

“Enough, Enid.” he warned. “I’ll whip you if I want to. I’ll do whatever I want to you, you are not free. My children don’t like it when you’re hurt but I can teach you lessons in other ways. I told you no more,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “Now this is when you bow your head and say yes.”

She felt it, how he was pressing down her head, how there was no way in the world she could fight him. For a second longer she held on, for a second longer she wanted to spit in his face and scratch and scream.

“Yes.” she whispered.

So quickly he let her go, giving her head one more push as he went back to his seat by the table with a grunt. She glared at him, feeling that fiery pit in her stomach reach new heights, wanting so desperately to stand up to him the way Hilda could.

But she was not free…

That was when she felt Frigga moving in front of her, felt her turning and taking the comb from Enid’s hand and then reaching up to brush Enid’s hair.

“Down.” she said, tugging on Enid’s hair. “Down, down.”

Enid sighed, leaning forward and resting her chin in the palm of her hand. She could not even say no to this child. She could not argue any more than the goats could when they were herded into the back room for the night. That thought almost killed her, for a moment it was all she could think of and all that seemed to matter. But then Frigga stood up, reaching forward to kiss Enid’s head just like Hilda had done to her when she had left. Suddenly that stiffness in Enid’s spine was gone. Suddenly there was a smile on her lips and a laugh echoing in her chest.

“Thank you, Frigga.” she whispered.