“She Was My Enemy. Now She Shares My Fire and My Bed.”

ENTWINED MAGAZINE Every Love Has a Story. CHANCE ENCOUNTER — CHRONICLES OF LOVE ACROSS THE AGES Two peoples. Two languages. Two hearts that refused to remain enemies. A Forgotten Account from the Year 1246 The following story is presented as a modern English translation of a fictional medieval manuscript attributed to Matthias of Lübeck, a German chronicler traveling through the eastern lands in the middle of the thirteenth century. According to the imagined manuscript's history, the account survived among fragments of travel journals, diplomatic observations, and accounts of unfamiliar peoples, eventually finding its way into a monastic collection in northern Europe. There it remained for centuries, its unusual subject attracting little attention until the manuscript was rediscovered and studied by modern scholars. What makes the account extraordinary is not merely that it describes affection between two women, but that those women came from peoples who had fought one another, spoke almost entirely different languages, and lived in a world where their chosen relationship brought them considerable hardship. The original account is imagined as having been written in Latin, with passages translated from Norse, Mongolian, and the languages of the eastern trading settlements. This English edition renders the exchanges in natural modern language while preserving the chronicler's observations, the interruptions of the interpreters, and the women's distinctly unrefined expressions wherever their meaning can be reconstructed. The woman called Astrid was a northern shieldwoman of thirty-four years, descended from the fighting and trading families of Scandinavia. Her companion, Altani, was a Mongol horsewoman of thirty-one years, an accomplished archer and scout. They first encountered one another during the violence that swept through the lands of the Rus in 1240. Six years later, in a camp near the Volga River, the German chronicler Matthias of Lübeck was permitted to question them. His account follows. FROM THE WRITINGS OF MATTHIAS OF LÜBECK In the Year of Our Lord 1246, during the warmer part of the year, I came upon two women of remarkable bearing who were said to share one dwelling, one fire, and one sleeping place, though they were born among peoples whose languages, customs, and allegiances were greatly opposed. The elder was called Astrid, daughter of Thorstein, a woman of northern blood, tall and fair, with arms made strong by labor and fighting. She carried an axe at her belt, and the shield beside her dwelling bore marks of many blows. The younger was called Altani, a woman of the Mongols, smaller in stature but no less formidable, whose dark hair was bound in two long braids, and whose skill with bow and horse was spoken of with admiration even by men who did not willingly praise a woman. When I entered their dwelling, I found them seated together upon a carpet beside the hearth. Astrid was mending a leather strap, while Altani cleaned the fittings of a bow. Between them lay a little dog-eared leather purse containing coins, needles, and several small treasures that appeared to belong to both. With me came two interpreters, Pavel, a man acquainted with the speech of the northern traders and the Rus, and Qutluq, who understood the Mongol tongue and could speak with Pavel. I had been warned that the northern woman was quick to anger and the Mongol woman quicker still to laugh. Both warnings proved true. HOW THEY FIRST MET MATTHIAS: I am told that you once belonged to opposing peoples, yet now live together as companions. Will you tell me how such a thing came to pass? The interpreters confer, and the women listen patiently until the question reaches them. ASTRID: She found me dying and made the mistake of keeping me alive. ALTANI: (Laughing.) A mistake I have regretted every morning since. ASTRID: You regret nothing, little horse thief. ALTANI: I regret teaching you that expression. MATTHIAS: Were you enemies when first you met? ASTRID: Every Mongol was my enemy then. Their riders had burned settlements, slaughtered men I knew, and scattered my traveling companions across half the countryside. My family had traded eastward for generations. We traveled with merchants, guarded wagons, carried iron, furs, cloth, and whatever else brought a fair price. I could fight, and so I earned my share with shield and axe. When the armies came, trade meant little. A wagon could burn as easily as a village, and an axe was of little use against twenty mounted archers. MATTHIAS: You were wounded? ASTRID: In the shoulder and thigh. I remember a horse falling, men shouting, and somebody striking me from behind. When I awoke, I was lying among broken timber and dead animals. Then this creature appeared. ALTANI: This creature had food, water, and a horse. You had nothing but a broken shield and a foul temper. ASTRID: I had a knife. ALTANI: Yes. You tried to put it through my hand. MATTHIAS: You attacked the woman who was helping you? ASTRID: I did not know she was helping me! She wore the clothes of the people who had attacked us. What would you have done? ALTANI: Probably thanked the beautiful woman who was saving her life. ASTRID: (Snorting.) You were covered in mud and horse sweat. There was nothing beautiful about you. ALTANI: You told me yesterday that I was the most beautiful woman beneath the sky. ASTRID: That was yesterday. Today you are being a nuisance. At this point both interpreters begin laughing, and the Mongol woman strikes her companion lightly upon the knee. MATTHIAS: Why did you spare her? ALTANI: Because she was alive, and I had the means to help her. MATTHIAS: Yet she belonged to a hostile people. ALTANI: A wounded woman lying beneath a wagon does not threaten an army. She needed water and care, not another enemy. Also, she had fine hair. ASTRID: You never told me that. ALTANI: You were trying to stab me. A PRISONER WHO WOULD NOT BEHAVE MATTHIAS: What happened after you carried her away? ALTANI: I arranged for a healer to see her. He cleaned the wounds and said she might live if she did not move too much. ASTRID: He spoke like a crow with a stone in its throat. I understood nothing. ALTANI: He told you to remain still. ASTRID: Then he should have learned to speak properly. ALTANI: You rose from your bed twice, insulted three women, struck a guard with a wooden bowl, and tried to escape before you could stand without falling. ASTRID: I wanted to go home. The northern woman's voice grows quieter. ASTRID: I did not know whether my brother lived. I did not know what had become of the men and women who had traveled with us. I was surrounded by strangers who belonged to the army that had destroyed everything I knew. I thought the little horsewoman had saved me so that somebody else might kill me later. MATTHIAS: Did you trust her? ASTRID: No. ALTANI: Not even slightly. MATTHIAS: Yet she cared for you? ALTANI: Somebody had to. She was too stubborn to die and too injured to walk away. ASTRID: She brought water. Sometimes food. She showed me how to hold the bowl so I would not spill it with my injured hand. She taught me the words for water, bread, horse, and sleep. ALTANI: And she taught me a northern curse that I foolishly repeated to my uncle. MATTHIAS: What did the curse mean? Pavel begins translating, then stops and looks embarrassed. PAVEL: My lord, I believe it would be improper to repeat it. ASTRID: (Laughing.) Tell him! ALTANI: Yes, tell the writer what she called me. PAVEL: It concerned a goat, a person's mother, and an act that would offend the Church. I instructed Pavel to omit the expression. THE FIRST WORDS OF FRIENDSHIP MATTHIAS: How did you come to travel together? ALTANI: The northern woman had nowhere to go. Most of her companions were dead or scattered, and her people were far away. I spoke with a merchant who needed armed guards for his caravan. He would employ her if she could walk, fight, and keep her temper under control. ASTRID: I could do two of those things. ALTANI: She never learned the third. MATTHIAS: And you joined the same caravan? ALTANI: Yes. I knew the roads and could negotiate with riders who stopped us. She knew how to frighten thieves who thought a merchant's wagons would make easy plunder. ASTRID: We learned quickly that two women could keep a good number of fools away from the goods. MATTHIAS: What language did you speak to one another? ASTRID: At first? None worth speaking. ALTANI: We pointed. ASTRID: She pointed at food. I ate it. I pointed at water. She fetched it. She pointed at a horse. I told her the animal looked sick. ALTANI: I thought you were saying the horse was beautiful. ASTRID: It was an ugly horse. ALTANI: It was my horse! ASTRID: Then you should have fed it better. The women laugh so heartily that I am obliged to wait before continuing. MATTHIAS: How did you learn to understand one another? ALTANI: Every day brought new words. We learned to speak about food, danger, horses, weapons, roads, and weather. ASTRID: And insults. ALTANI: Many insults. ASTRID: After a time, she knew when I was angry before I opened my mouth. ALTANI: That was not difficult. You throw things. ASTRID: Only small things. ALTANI: Once a cooking pot. ASTRID: It was empty. WHEN FRIENDSHIP BECAME SOMETHING ELSE MATTHIAS: When did your regard for one another change? The Mongol woman looks toward Astrid, who immediately lowers her eyes to the leather strap she is mending. ALTANI: I knew before she did. ASTRID: You always say that. ALTANI: Because it is true. MATTHIAS: What made you certain? ALTANI: She was hurt again. A small wound, nothing that would have killed her, but it troubled her badly. We had made camp during heavy rain, and she could not sleep for the pain. I sat beside her and warmed a cloth near the fire. When I placed it against her shoulder, she caught my hand. Then she put my hand against her cheek. ASTRID: I was grateful. ALTANI: You did not let go. ASTRID: You had warm hands. ALTANI: (Laughing.) Of course, beloved. MATTHIAS: And later? ASTRID: Later I learned that I disliked seeing men speak to her as though they hoped to make her a wife. ALTANI: She became very unpleasant whenever a man offered me a gift. ASTRID: Most of them were fools. ALTANI: One had seventy horses. ASTRID: A fool with seventy horses. ALTANI: Another had a fine tent and considerable wealth. ASTRID: An old fool with a fine tent. MATTHIAS: Were you jealous? ASTRID: I was concerned that she might make a poor choice. ALTANI: She was jealous. ASTRID: I was not! ALTANI: She threatened a man who brought me a silver bracelet. ASTRID: He was looking at you like a hungry wolf looks at a lamb! ALTANI: I was not frightened of him. ASTRID: I know that now. Altani places her hand over Astrid's, and for the first time the northern woman falls silent. THE NIGHT WITHOUT AN INTERPRETER MATTHIAS: I must ask how you came to regard one another not merely as companions in arms, but as companions in life. ASTRID: She kissed me. ALTANI: (Laughing.) Listen to the liar! ASTRID: You did! ALTANI: You kissed me first. ASTRID: I was helping you remove your wet cloak! ALTANI: With your mouth? Pavel begins translating, but Qutluq bursts into laughter before he finishes. MATTHIAS: What has been said? PAVEL: The Mongol woman disputes the circumstances under which the kiss occurred. MATTHIAS: In what manner? PAVEL: My lord, it is difficult to explain without causing offense. ASTRID: Tell him, you frightened little sparrow! ALTANI: She kissed me while we were taking off our wet clothes beside the fire. ASTRID: I kissed your cheek. ALTANI: Then my mouth. ASTRID: That was your fault. ALTANI: Then again. ASTRID: You kept standing there! MATTHIAS: And thus your affection began? ALTANI: Thus our kisses began. Our affection had already been growing for many moons. MATTHIAS: But how did you speak of love when you knew so little of each other's language? ALTANI: We did not need many words. We knew how to be gentle. We knew when the other was cold or frightened. We knew how to hold one another. And when we lay together beneath the sleeping furs, there was time enough to teach each other the words we wanted to hear. ASTRID: Much time. ALTANI: (Laughing.) Very much time. MATTHIAS: Did you learn the languages more quickly thereafter? ASTRID: Considerably. ALTANI: She became particularly eager to learn the words for beautiful, beloved, closer, again, and— ASTRID: Altani! ALTANI: What? I am explaining our lessons. ASTRID: You are explaining too much! MATTHIAS: And did the language become easier between you? ALTANI: Oh, yes. When a woman has spent an entire evening teaching her companion the proper way to pronounce a particular word, she becomes very determined to make herself understood. ASTRID: (Grinning.) Especially if the lesson is pleasant. Here the two women laugh and speak rapidly in a mixture of their languages. The interpreters exchange uneasy looks. MATTHIAS: What have they said? PAVEL: That the northern woman was an unusually devoted student. QUTLUQ: And that the Mongol woman was a very demanding teacher. MATTHIAS: Is that the whole meaning? PAVEL: It is all that ought to be written, my lord. THE FAMILIES WHO TURNED AWAY MATTHIAS: Did your families accept the life you had chosen? For the first time since the questioning began, neither woman answers immediately. ASTRID: No. ALTANI: Mine did not. MATTHIAS: Why? ASTRID: My surviving kin had already lost much during the wars. When word reached them that I had taken a Mongol woman into my household, they believed I had abandoned my people. A cousin who once called me sister sent word that I would find no welcome beneath his roof while she remained beside me. MATTHIAS: Did he know that you loved one another? ASTRID: He knew enough. He told me I had dishonored our dead by sharing my bread and bed with one of the people who had brought the armies west. MATTHIAS: What did you answer? ASTRID: That Altani had saved my life when others would have left me beneath the wagon. That she had fed me when I could not feed myself, defended me when I had no friends, and remained beside me when there was nothing to gain from doing so. He said I should send her away. So I told him to go to the devil. ALTANI: (Laughing.) She used a much worse expression. ASTRID: He deserved a worse one. MATTHIAS: And your family, Altani? ALTANI: My mother wanted grandchildren. My brothers wanted a marriage that would strengthen our family's position. They could accept that I fought and rode, though they often complained. They could not accept that I had chosen a foreign woman instead of a husband. MATTHIAS: What did they say of Astrid? ALTANI: That she was too tall, too loud, too angry, ate too much, drank too much, and knew nothing of proper manners. ASTRID: Some of that was true. ALTANI: (Smiling.) Quite a lot of it. MATTHIAS: Did you attempt to persuade them? ALTANI: For a long while. Then I grew tired of asking permission to be happy. MATTHIAS: Do you regret losing their favor? ALTANI: Of course. I love my family. I still hope that one day my mother will sit beside our fire, eat the food we offer, and see what I see when I look at Astrid. But I will not turn her out of my bed to please anyone. At these words, the northern woman sets down her leather strap and reaches for Altani's hand. THEIR HOUSEHOLD MATTHIAS: Tell me of your daily life. How do two women from such different peoples maintain a household? ASTRID: With great difficulty when one of them insists on keeping horses everywhere. ALTANI: We have four horses. ASTRID: Five. ALTANI: The young mare does not belong to us. ASTRID: She eats our grain and sleeps beside our animals. She belongs to us. ALTANI: We shall discuss that later. MATTHIAS: Who performs the household labor? ASTRID: Whoever is present. ALTANI: And whoever makes the mess. ASTRID: That is a rule she invented after I broke a cooking vessel. ALTANI: You broke three. ASTRID: Two. The third was already cracked. MATTHIAS: And your livelihood? ALTANI: We escort trading caravans, care for horses, and sometimes receive payment to guide merchants through dangerous country. Astrid is skilled with ironwork and the repair of shields and weapons. I bargain, negotiate, scout routes, and tend the animals. ASTRID: She is a better trader than I am. ALTANI: Because you threaten people who offer too little. ASTRID: It often works. ALTANI: It works until they run away. MATTHIAS: Do you own your dwelling? ALTANI: The felt covering and furnishings are ours, as are the carts and animals we have purchased. We carry our home when the caravan moves. ASTRID: And when we stop, we make our fire together. MATTHIAS: Do you sleep beneath the same covering? ASTRID: Of course. MATTHIAS: Even in the warmer months? ASTRID: Is there something wrong with your ears, writer? ALTANI: (Laughing.) She is asking whether you would prefer the sleeping furs of a strange man. ASTRID: Not while you still draw breath! THE DIFFERENCES THAT REMAIN MATTHIAS: Have you adopted one another's customs? ALTANI: Some. ASTRID: Not all. MATTHIAS: Such as? ASTRID: She has taught me to ride with a bow, though I still prefer a shield and axe when fighting close. ALTANI: And she has taught me northern songs that seem to consist entirely of men killing one another, drinking too much, and boasting about it afterward. ASTRID: Good songs. ALTANI: Very long songs. MATTHIAS: What of your food? ASTRID: She eats things that ought to be given back to the horse. ALTANI: She drinks ale that tastes like wet bread. ASTRID: Better than sour mare's milk! ALTANI: You have learned to enjoy it. ASTRID: Only because you make me drink it. MATTHIAS: And your faith? Another silence follows. ASTRID: I was baptized as a child, as were my parents. My family keeps the Christian feasts, though the old stories of our ancestors are still told beside the winter fire. ALTANI: I was raised to honor the Eternal Blue Sky and the spirits remembered by my family. MATTHIAS: Have you tried to turn one another from these beliefs? ASTRID: No. ALTANI: Never. MATTHIAS: Why? ASTRID: Because I love her, not because I wish to make her into another version of myself. ALTANI: And because I would rather argue with the real Astrid than agree with a woman who merely pretends to think as I do. ASTRID: We do argue. ALTANI: Often. MATTHIAS: About religion? ASTRID: Sometimes. ALTANI: More often about horses. ASTRID: Those damned horses. WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THEY QUARREL MATTHIAS: You speak much of arguing. Are such disagreements ever serious? ASTRID: Of course. ALTANI: She can be very frightening when she shouts. ASTRID: And she can be very frightening when she becomes quiet. MATTHIAS: Which is worse? ASTRID: The quiet. ALTANI: (Laughing.) She has learned. MATTHIAS: How do you resolve these disputes? ASTRID: We speak. ALTANI: Eventually. ASTRID: Sometimes we need the help of others when the words become difficult. ALTANI: But most quarrels concern little things. When they do, I wait until the northern woman has finished roaring like a wounded bear. ASTRID: I do not roar. ALTANI: Then I kiss her. ASTRID: That usually helps. MATTHIAS: And when the matter is more serious? ALTANI: Then kissing is not enough. We must understand what has caused the hurt. ASTRID: There are wounds even a kiss cannot mend. MATTHIAS: You have learned this together? ASTRID: Aye. ALTANI: And we are still learning. THE WRITER ASKS AN IMPROPER QUESTION MATTHIAS: Forgive me, but there is a matter I must understand. In the lands from which I come, a man and woman marry and are expected to establish a household together. How do you describe your bond when there is neither husband nor wife? ALTANI: We are companions. ASTRID: Lovers. ALTANI: Family. ASTRID: And if anyone dislikes it, they may keep their opinions outside our tent. MATTHIAS: But one of you must surely occupy the place ordinarily held by a husband? Both women stare at me. Then Altani begins laughing so violently that she nearly spills her drink. ASTRID: Which of us looks like a husband to you? MATTHIAS: I meant no insult. ALTANI: We know what you meant. ASTRID: We have no husband. That is the point. MATTHIAS: Then who makes the decisions? ASTRID: We both do. ALTANI: Though I generally make the better ones. ASTRID: You purchased a horse with three good legs! ALTANI: The fourth was merely stiff! ASTRID: The beast could scarcely stand! ALTANI: And now she runs perfectly well. ASTRID: After I spent a month tending her. ALTANI: Which proves that we make an excellent household. I concede that the question has not been well received. THE WORDS LEARNED BENEATH THE FURS MATTHIAS: You have said that you first learned one another's language through common labor. Yet I observe that you now understand each other even when the interpreters struggle. How did you gain such knowledge? ALTANI: We had many long nights. ASTRID: There she goes again. ALTANI: We learned by repetition. MATTHIAS: Repetition? ALTANI: I would speak a word, and Astrid would repeat it. If she spoke it badly, I would make her say it again. ASTRID: And if she liked what I said, she would kiss me. ALTANI: A very good method of teaching. MATTHIAS: Were these words of daily use? ASTRID: Some. ALTANI: Others were more useful at night. Pavel turns pale and pretends to examine a mark on the manuscript. MATTHIAS: Such as? ASTRID: Beloved. Beautiful. My heart. Come closer. ALTANI: Again. ASTRID: Quiet, woman. ALTANI: You said that one often. ASTRID: Because you never stopped talking! ALTANI: She also learned a particularly difficult phrase meaning— ASTRID: ALTANI! Here the Mongol woman speaks several words rapidly, after which both interpreters refuse to repeat what she has said. MATTHIAS: I insist upon knowing the meaning. QUTLUQ: My lord, it concerns the northern woman's skill as a lover. MATTHIAS: Is that all? PAVEL: The remainder is unsuitable for a written account. ASTRID: (Laughing.) Aye, keep that part to yourselves! ALTANI: I was merely praising her. ASTRID: Praise me when the writer has gone. ALTANI: Gladly. It is my judgment that certain matters are better left between the two women. THE QUESTION OF THE FUTURE MATTHIAS: You have suffered rejection from your families, hardship in travel, and the disapproval of those around you. Have you ever considered separating? ASTRID: No. ALTANI: No. MATTHIAS: Not even to regain the favor of your kin? ASTRID: My kin did not sit beside me when I was wounded. They did not teach me to walk again. They did not hold me through the nights when I dreamed of burning wagons and dead companions. She did. ALTANI: (Quietly.) Astrid. ASTRID: When I had no people left, she became my people. MATTHIAS: And you, Altani? ALTANI: My mother once told me that a good marriage makes a household strong because each person carries what the other cannot. I think she imagined I would marry a wealthy rider with many horses. Instead, I chose this loud northern woman who breaks cooking pots and frightens merchants. But when I am weary, she takes the work from my hands. When I am frightened, she sits beside me. And when I am sad, she holds me until I can breathe easily again. If that does not make a good household, I do not know what does. At this point, the northern woman takes Altani into her arms and kisses her forehead. THE LAST QUESTION MATTHIAS: One final matter. If you could return to the day upon which you first met, knowing what would follow, would you choose differently? ASTRID: I would not attempt to stab her. ALTANI: That would be a pleasant change. MATTHIAS: And you, Altani? ALTANI: I would still stop beside the broken wagon. I would still give her water and bind her wounds. And when she woke and threatened me with that ridiculous little knife, I would still tell her she was an ungrateful fool. ASTRID: You did tell me that. ALTANI: Yes, but next time I would kiss her sooner. ASTRID: (Laughing.) You would have lost your nose. ALTANI: Perhaps. But I would have found my happiness six years earlier. MATTHIAS: Do you then consider yourselves fortunate? ASTRID: We have food, horses, weapons, shelter, and work. We have survived battles, winters, sickness, and the foolishness of other people. And when the fire grows low, I have this woman beside me. What more should I ask? ALTANI: Better cooking pots. ASTRID: By all the saints, woman! THE CHRONICLER'S FINAL OBSERVATION When my questions were finished, the northern woman rose and added wood to the fire, while her companion prepared a meal of meat and bread. They moved around one another with the ease of people accustomed to sharing a small space, sometimes speaking in the northern tongue, sometimes in Mongolian, and sometimes in a strange mixture of words that neither interpreter could entirely explain. It seemed to me that this was perhaps the truest language they possessed. Before departing, I asked whether I might return on the following day to observe their manner of work. Astrid agreed, provided I did not interfere with her weapons. Altani agreed, provided I brought better wine. As I stepped outside, I heard Astrid ask a question in Mongolian, followed by laughter and the sound of a kiss. I requested that Qutluq translate what had been said. He informed me that the northern woman had asked whether the writer had finally gone, and the Mongol woman had answered that he had. What followed was not intended for my hearing. I therefore closed my book and departed. Thus ends the account of Astrid the northern shieldwoman and Altani the Mongol horsewoman, recorded beside the Volga in the Year of Our Lord 1246. A Note from the Modern Editors The manuscript tradition presented here is a work of historical fiction, but it asks a question that remains remarkably familiar: how can two people build a life together when their families, cultures, beliefs, and languages appear to place them on opposing sides of the world? Astrid and Altani offer an answer that requires no elaborate translation. They learned to trust one another through what they did, not merely what they said. They worked together, suffered together, argued together, and discovered that the woman once regarded as an enemy could become the one person neither wished to live without. Eight centuries may separate their imagined world from ours, but some love stories need very little translation.