After all the preparations for the day had been made, and after she had eaten the late summer festival meal at Brandersgaard, Ailia was allowed to go to the festival. She had not told Unni how her friends had distanced themselves from her after she had become interested in the Christian religion, and even more so after she had hinted about her maredreams. Maybe they didn’t know how to treat her, thinking she was a little crazy. And she couldn’t truly blame them, since even she thought her dreams were crazy. However, she decided that these dreams were not going to prevent her from having a good time and living her life to the fullest. And if she didn’t mention her dreams anymore or her fascination with Christianity, her friends would probably forget about them and everything would be back to normal.
Excited to get out of the longhouse, she slipped on her fine hunter green wool tunic and grabbed her sheep mask on the way out.
“I shall be there shortly!” Unni hollered after her.
The first place Ailia wanted to go was to the masked dance at the Fest Hall. It was the town’s largest longhouse, and their communal place for meetings, governing assemblies, and festivities. It looked like a gigantic dome-covered longship with a straw thatched roof.
Ailia loved to attend dances, and she had not missed one since she had turned twelve, the age where all young maidens were allowed to participate in their first official festival.
When she arrived at the Fest Hall, fiddlers and musicians with falster pipes, lures, and drums were at the end of the hall warming up their instruments. To her surprise, the entire room was empty except for three other people. One of them was wearing a goat mask and the two others were wearing cow masks.
She sat down to wait on one of the benches that lined the eastern wall, hoping her friends would arrive soon. A small part of her feared they would oust her from their circle or ignore her completely, but she pushed the thought aside, telling herself she was being unreasonable. She had known these girls her entire life. Surely, they wouldn’t discard her that easily.
Noticing how the three other attendees were glancing over at her, she smiled and waved. They turned their backs without even acknowledging her.
Strange, she thought. Most Bergendalers were very warm and welcoming.
“Are you the girl who’s cursing Bergendal with all these mare demons?” a young redheaded boy, wearing a dog mask asked.
“What?” Ailia said, feeling her cheeks turn hot.
“My big sister says you are a bad omen, and she says you are cursing Bergendal by bringing all these mare demons here,” the young boy continued.
Now she recognized the boy. He was one of Ailia’s friend’s younger brothers—Siri’s brother. “I am not cursing Bergendal with anything,” she said, a knot growing in her stomach. She folded her arms across her chest and frowned.
“My father says maredreams are messages from the dark realms, and that you are attracting beings from the dark realms here to Bergendal because you are a traitor to the gods. He says you are cursed.” He pointed his finger at her. “Cursed!”
“Stop that!” Ailia said, feeling her pulse rise. “You are embarrassing yourself, and you are embarrassing me!”
“You are cursed!” he yelled, still pointing his finger at her. “Cursed!”
A few others arrived and stopped to stare. Ailia thought it strange that no one came over and reprimanded the misbehaving boy or came to stand up for her. Finally, Siri came over. Her light ash brown hair was pulled up in a braided up-do.
“Is it true? Did you tell your brother I’m a bad omen?” Ailia asked her.
“I thought you knew by now, Ailia. We all believe that,” she said, stepping next to her brother. She squinted her eyes and her lips. “You are a bad omen—and cursed.”
Ailia’s mouth dropped open, but even so, it was difficult to take a breath. Finally, she managed to say, “I cannot believe how shallow you are, holding my dreams against me,” she said. “I cannot control what I dream.”
“No, you cannot. The mare demons do,” Siri said.
Ailia stared at her in disbelief.
“My father has told me to stay away from you and your new crucified god. I should have realized you are cursed sooner. I mean, even your name is so strange,” she said.
“My name?” She knew her name was different, but what did it have to do with her being cursed?
Ailia looked around the hall, and everyone who had arrived was intently listening in on their conversation. Even the musicians had stopped warming up their instruments and glared at her across the murky room.
“Our chieftain won’t be happy to hear about any of this,” Siri said. “He’ll be here soon, and if you stay, I’ll tell him everything you told me.”
Tears burned behind her eyes, and not wanting to continue to make a scene, she turned on her heals and headed for the exit. How could Siri have ever claimed to be her friend? How could she be this cruel? They had known each other for five years, and Ailia had worked so hard to help Siri feel welcome in Bergendal when her family moved here from another town.
“Don’t think this is over, Christian!” Siri yelled after her. “You must turn from your ways, or I will make sure you will be banned from Bergendal for good!”
She ran out the door and set her course toward the Bergendal forest—the shortcut home. She swallowed her tears back again and again as the cool autumn wind streamed across her face. Arriving at the edge of the forest, she followed the thin, snaking path, winding her way between soaring pine trees, moss-covered rocks, and fallen twigs. Sprinting as fast as her legs would carry her, she whipped the branches away as she distanced herself from the festival, wanting nothing but to leave the memory behind. She didn’t care that her lungs burned. She didn’t stop when her legs tired. She had to get away. Far, far away from the humiliation and hate.
Hopping across the narrowest part of the Bergendal River, she stepped on the black and green rocks protruding above the rushing water. She ignored the people on their way to the merriments, and she didn’t even stop when she ran into Unni. She just needed to find a quiet place to think, to clear her mind and find her balance again.
When she reached Brandersgaard, she stormed inside and slammed the door shut behind her. Leaning her back against the dense oak door, she finally allowed her body the rest.
The hearth was still burning in the center of the room, and it smelled of the delicious food Unni and she had prepared earlier. Now she noticed how her hands were freezing, and the tips of her ears numb. Winter was coming, and there would only be a few more warm days left before snow and ice would blanket the land, sending nature into a deep sleep. Northlandic winters were long, cold, and brutal, and most citizens spent the dark months indoors.
Once her heart was no longer pounding viciously in her chest, she sat down in the rocking chair by the loom, and started embroidering on the tablecloth she had almost finished. Sewing usually calmed her.
“Is everything all right?” Unni asked, coming in the front door.
“I’m sick,” Ailia said sullenly, not looking up. “Please, just go to the festival. I’ll be fine.”
Unni opened her mouth to speak and it looked as if she would try to talk Ailia into going. But then she said, “Very well. Are you sure I cannot help you with anything before I go?”
“No, I just need to rest,” Ailia said. “There will be many more festivals like this one for me to attend.” She glanced up and forced her lips to curl upward into a smile. Unni turned around and left. But something told Ailia she would not be attending any festivals for a long, long time.
She stopped sewing, let the tablecloth fall to her lap, and began to sob.
4
Never love