by Fiona Faris
“It belonged to me. Is that not enough?”
“Under the circumstances, nay.” He shook his head, his green eyes watching her closely. The sudden scrutiny urged her to straighten her spine. She would not wilt under his glare.
“It was more to me than just a weapon. I hope you will not melt down the metal to be re-used.” The thought of her mother’s sword being destroyed in such a fashion filled her with rage. She clamped her fingers together, imagining she was holding her anger within her grasp, keeping it at bay and preventing it from being released.
“That is nae the weapon’s fate,” Gavin moved on, imploring her to follow at his side.
“Then what is its fate?”
“It cannae matter to ye anymore. It is nay longer yer weapon. Ye are nae permitted to have one.”
“I am not asking for it to be returned. I am not such a fool to think you would do me that kindness.” Her insult caused him to flinch, but she pressed on. “I merely want to be assured that it will not be destroyed. Has not all of my hard work earned that much? Tell me where it is?”
“I willnae tell ye where it is.” He adjusted his hold on the bucket, in some discomfort with the conversation. “If it means so much to ye, then I can do this. I give ye me word that it willnae be destroyed.”
“Hmm.” She did not like his answer. “Without me knowing where it is, you may have destroyed it and may just be choosing not to tell me the truth.”
“Why would I do that? I would gain no advantage from the deception.” Gavin placed the bucket by one of the doors to the castle. It was where all the leeches were delivered to the physician, Maldouen. “Besides, I have nay likin’ for lies.”
“You do not like lies?” The note of surprise in Idunn’s voice called him to a stop. She watched him for a minute, analyzing the sudden sternness of his handsome features. “Are lies not a necessary part of life?”
“Nae mine, laoch.” He walked away.
The term he so often used for her almost hummed in his voice, having a reaction within Idunn that was unwelcome. She watched him walk across the grounds, yearning to ask him what the word meant.
The night before had been a sleepless one, peppered with dreams of Gavin and ways in which she wanted to explore her fascination with the man. The word laoch had appeared throughout the dream. She had imagined him whispering it to her as their bodies moved together.
She shook herself as she stood by the leech bucket, shaking away any thoughts of dreams and desires, and turning her focus back to the leeches with disgust; all amorous thoughts suddenly vanished.
I have to leave this place. Before I am tempted to stay.
Idunn had taken great care in selecting the night for her escape. She had watched the boats every day for weeks, making a note of what ships left for the continent on which days. As she gathered a store of food together in a bag and swung it over her shoulder, she knew that a ship would leave Banff early the next morning for the continent. She would have to be on it.
Hurrying outside, she hid in the shadows of the castle’s inner curtain wall and surveyed her surroundings. All was quiet. Not a soul was wandering the yard, and the grass was lit by the full moon high overhead. Some windows of the keep were bathed orange from candlelight. Others were cast in darkness. She did not want to risk being seen by anyone, and moved along the curtain wall, keeping her back to the cold hard stone.
It was a night when most soldiers had left the castle grounds. Some were down in Banff itself; others were out in the hills, camping for the night. They would wake early for more training before returning to the castle. Gavin’s willingness to sing his men’s praises had revealed a lot concerning the soldiers’ calendar.
The castle less populated than usual afforded Idunn the perfect opportunity.
Being careful to stay hidden in the shadows, she crept around the estate, staying close to the wall until she reached the tents that would normally house the sleeping soldiers. In the center of these smaller tents stood the great white armoury tent, full of weapons and shields.
She picked her way carefully between the tents, listening for the sound of any soldiers that might have been left behind. When a twig snapped nearby, she dived for cover by a nearby tent. She waited, breathing slowly for many minutes, listening for further sounds, but nothing came. Peering beyond the tents, she searched the moonlit ground with restless eyes – no one was there. All she could see were the grey castle walls that appeared silver in the moonlight and the dark night sky speckled with white stars.
She stood slowly again, constantly looking around as she made her way into the armoury tent. Slipping into the darkness, she felt her way past the racks of weapons toward the array of swords.
Idunn had cleaned the soldier's armour enough times to have observed that her sword did not lay with the rest. Wherever Gavin had hidden it, it was not in the armoury. The thought of having to leave something behind that was so cherished made her stomach hurt.
She let her hands pass over the blades, feeling past the knightly swords, all with wide blades and rounded tips. She opted for a blade that was lighter to carry – bearing a rounded pommel to the handle, with a tapered, double-edge, it would be significantly easier for her to use.
She pulled the blade from its resting place, wincing as it chinked against the swords beside it in the silence. She paused, holding the sword aloft, listening for any other sounds. After a minute, she lowered the blade again and placed it within her thin leather belt. She had considered taking some of the armour as well, but the risk of making more noise was too great.
Slowly creeping from the tent, she took care to peer beyond the white flaps for any sign of a watchman, but no one was there. Certain she was alone, she hurried from the tent and darted back into the safety of the shadows against the wall.
She followed the path - down the hill towards an escape path she had scouted a few days earlier. Her careful watching of the castle had shown that the gates and portcullis were closed at night and guarded in case of approach.
The exit she had chosen was tucked away at the bottom of one of the towers at the lower end of the castle. Peppered with small windows, no bigger than the breadth of a crossbow, one possible window afforded her an escape. A larger window, just wide enough for someone to creep through, could be found at the bottom of the staircase, just before the cellar below. Though the window was blocked with bars, Idunn had discovered one of the bars was broken and could be easily removed. Once beyond the window, she would have to face a rather high drop to the earth below, but it was not an impossible feat. It was one she was certainly willing to risk.
As she reached the tower, she hesitated in the doorway, pressing herself into the shadow of the curved archway and turning her gaze back to the yard. No one had seen her. No guard had been alerted to her presence.
Smiling, feeling as though she was finally on the verge of returning home, she twisted the iron handle of the wicket door and slipped inside. Closing it behind her, she was completely cast in darkness.
She waited for a few moments, blinking desperately as her eyes struggled to adapt to the darkness. Before her, the spiral staircase offered a path downward. Every few steps, a shaft of white moonlight filtered through the arrowslit windows, affording the smallest glimpse of her way.
The tower would be empty at night. Bearing nothing but antechambers and rooms for storage, Idunn grew in confidence as she descended the stairs, keeping one hand on the wall beside her at all times to guide her path downwards.
As the designated window came into view, her footsteps slowed, and the smallest smile began to tweak at her lips.
This is it. I will soon be free.
She leapt out from the stairs, diving towards the window, when a sound startled her, forcing her to rear round with her back against the bars to find the source of the noise. It was a sharp crack of flint.
A spark of light jumped into action, setting a torch alight. The spiral staircase came into view, revealing the bearer who was
holding the torch.
“Evenin’, laoch.”
Chapter Twelve
Idunn’s body froze as she looked at Gavin’s face, flickering in the light of the amber torch. He slowly reached up and placed the torch within an iron bracket on the wall. It cast the space where they stood in dancing flames and shadows, revealing Gavin leaning against a far wall, a sword at his belt. Beside him, the spiral staircase continued downwards towards the cellar.
“Did ye really think I wouldnae realize?” Gavin’s countenance was dark, staring her down through the orange light. The color made his auburn hair even redder.
Idunn clutched one of the bars in the window behind her, trying to bend the metal free while keeping her actions hidden.
“I gave nei thought to it.” She swallowed, wary of the fact he had brought a sword to prevent her escape. “How did you know?”
“Yer questions. Though ye thought ye were sly, they betrayed yer intentions. And I followed ye here a couple of times, so I ken the place was of interest to ye.” Gavin gestured up the stairs. “Now, return to yer bed, and we will talk nay more of this.”
“Nei, I cannot.” She turned to the barred window – the sharpness of her movement made him stand and move to her side, placing his hand on the bars beside her.
“I cannae allow a captured Vikin’ to run. Ye ken I cannae. It is me duty.”
“If it comes to it, I will fight my way free.” She strained against the bar, but he held it in place.
“Say ye hurt me now. Ye ken yer escape is pointless. Me faither would order men to follow ye. Ye would be captured within hours and be placed back in the dungeon. Do ye really want that?”
“If I am swift on my feet, they will not catch me.”
“Stay,” he ordered, grasping the bar tighter as she strained with the two of hers.
“Nei!” She tried one last heave of the bars but could not move them. She looked up to Gavin, amazed at how close they stood together, with true anger thumping through her. She leaned away from him, astonished by the temptation he caused. His lips were so near, inviting her in a kiss. She pushed the temptation away, holding tightly to her fury. “Allow me my freedom. You have had your victory. You defeated my kin; you have seen my humiliation day after day as your castle’s slave. What more could you want from me? You have taken everything. Release me.” She turned back and heaved at the bars again. This time he pressed with both of his, holding them in place on either side of her head. She hung her head down, aware of how near he was behind her with his arms on either side of her.
“Idunn, do nae be foolish!” he snapped above her, “Is it logical to return to yer people? They abandoned ye. They left ye for dead on the beach. Perhaps ye would be safer here.”
“They thought I was dead!”
“Did they? I am nae so sure. I saw Vikin’s lookin’ between the fallen men. If we saw that ye were alive, why wouldnae they? They have eyes too.”
“They did not abandon me.”
“They did – they left ye to die. Ye mattered nay more to them than an enemy’s slain body.” His words made the rage flare within her, as though a ball of fire, larger than the torch he was holding, had erupted inside her chest.
She caught sight of the sword in her belt and resolved to take action.
Striking backward with her foot, Idumm aimed a direct kick between Gavin’s legs. He appeared to be prepared for it – her foot made contact with his leg, and he jumped away. She turned to face him and pulled the sword from her belt, stepping forward, ready for battle.
“How dare you talk of my kin so!” It was not something she wanted to hear. It was bringing to the front of her mind something she had tried to ignore for so long. She had not allowed herself to think on it – the reality too horrible to consider.
My people betrayed me. Einarr… my betrothed, he should have been protecting me. Why did he not come looking for me?
She struck at Gavin with her sword, but he dived out of the way, leaving her weapon to clatter on the wall with a spark against the stone. She turned round to see Gavin bent before her with his hands outstretched, attempting to placate her.
“Daenae do this, laoch.”
The word haunted her.
What does it mean? Why does he always call me this ‘laoch?’
She dived forward again, but his skill was too great. He batted her hand to the side, dodging the sword blow completely, allowing him enough time to pull out his own. It glinted in the light from the torch, as though the whole blade was on fire. Idunn’s gaze landed on the blade, seeing the familiar Viking compass motif across the surface.
She hesitated before her next attack and pointed at his sword with her own.
“That is my sword. You took it from me on the beach.”
“I did,” he held up the blade, as though displaying it in grandeur, “It is quite a blade, indeed. Did ye want it back?” He smirked, knowing how much he was taunting her.
She leapt out to attack him. For a minute, she could have been back on the beach, parrying with a Scottish soldier – their technique was so different from the Vikings. Yet there was something familiar in Gavin’s movements, as though they had done this before.
Cramped in the small landing between the two sets of spiral staircases, Idunn repeatedly struck forward, knocking Gavin further and further back until he nearly tipped down the steps. At the final moment, clearly sensing his heel wobbling over the edge of the step, he dodged to the side and struck her sword backward. The force was so great, it nearly tore the sword from her hand. She stumbled back a second, regaining her footing as he did.
I cannot believe I am fighting against my own sword. This should never have happened.
“They left ye, Idunn. Why would ye try so hard to go back to them?” His words only inflamed her anger more, she struck out at him, yet the blocks and defensive blows felt too familiar.
He caught their swords together, then drew them around in a circle, urging her to stagger forward if she wanted to hold onto the blade. It was a move she had only seen once before – down on the beach in Banff. He completed the circle, drawing her to the point where both cross guards of the swords were within his grasp - both tips directing upward. They were standing so close, nothing but the sword blades parting their faces.
Idunn strained against his grasp on her sword, growling into the back of her throat as she remembered the soldier who had made the same move. He had worn a great helmet, almost bucket-shaped, so covered that she had been unable to see his face.
“You were the soldier on the beach,” her words came out in a flurried whisper, a rush to escape her, “Were you not?”
He did not answer but breathed heavily, staring down at her. His green eyes darted between hers. His face no longer bore anger – there was something else there, something she did not recognize.
“You had the chance to harm me on the beach, but you did not take it. Why not?”
“Why do ye think?” He pushed her away, allowing them to resume their parrying with vigor once again.
“I thought you were too weak to harm me. Pitied me for being a woman in battle.”
“I have never pitied ye.” He struck back with his sword. “Perhaps ye were too skillful in the battle for me to destroy? Have ye considered that? Even now when constricted by yer dress. I can see ye have talent.”
She pushed him away again until he had to take a couple of steps down the stairs and grasp onto the wall for balance.
“Nei. You are too ruthless to be swayed in such a way.” She aimed for his shoulder, but he blocked it by pushing her sword against the wall and shoving her away with the hilt. She lurched back, hurrying to stand straight again.
“I can appreciate another fighter’s skill. Ye mean ye have nae admiration for me own skill with a sword?” He stood straight and bared his arms to the side, as though demonstrating his prowess. The move made Idunn’s gaze rest on his body. He was sweating with the heat and exertion of their bodies, moving to tussle with one anot
her. Idunn felt a conflicting war in her stomach. One of rage, but one of longing.
“You think I could admire you in any way?” She threw the insult at him, desperate to persuade her own mind, yet she did. Her thoughts created a world where they moved together - not in battle but something much more exciting. Something that made them both as breathless and as clammy as they were now.
“Then ye still despise me?”
“Já.” She hit his sword with hers again, urging him to jump back a single step.
“There is nae a single thing ye like about me, laoch?”
There was something she liked very much. Her lack of an answer and renewal with the sword resounded clearly. Taking hold of her sword, he brought it to the point where she had stumbled against him, one hand on his chest while the other tried to retrieve the sword from his grasp.
