“I have not seen you for a long time,” Erik replied. “I am here for a few days before my next journey so I decided I would find you.”
“Well, it is good to see you,” said Torsten. “Have you spoken with Einar? He will be here later today, working on his house.”
“Yes, I arrived last night and we spoke before I went to bed. I am always glad to return home.”
“Soon it will be your home,” Torsten said with a grin.
“Yes, soon I will buy it from Einar and it will be mine. It will be an easy matter to take a wife if I have a home for her to live in.”
“Einar’s wedding is not far away,” Torsten said. “Then you will be the last one of us that has no wife. Have you been seeking one?”
“I have not,” Erik replied. “My focus has been on building up my trade. But lately, the thought has been on my mind.”
“There will be many children born over the next few years and yours should be among them.”
Erik looked serious. “It is an important matter,” he said. “I am doing well with my trading now and once I own a house, there is no reason why I cannot support a wife and pay the bride-price. I will give the matter some consideration.”
“Where will you seek a wife?”
“I know not. But perhaps I will find an eligible girl who is still available when I am on my journeys.”
Torsten rolled his eyes. “The rich men snap them up far too quickly,” he said. “I am fortunate that the Christians do not follow the same practices or Frida would have been betrothed long before I arrived here.”
“How is it working out? You are a follower of the old ways and Frida is a Christian. There are big differences.”
“It is working well,” Torsten replied with a smile. “Frida would not agree to marry me unless I promised that she would be free to practice her faith as she chooses. I even worship with her sometimes. She likes that and I do not mind.”
“You are fortunate it has worked well,” Erik said. “I will keep my mind open to the possibilities. A Christian wife might be one of them.”
“It is a pity that our parents died in the raid on Myrkvior Fjall,” Torsten said. “They would enjoy seeing grandchildren now.”
The mention of their former village triggered a memory in Erik’s mind. “I saw Taft on my last trading journey,” he said.
Torsten stood up straight and looked fierce. “I hope he was suffering for killing so many from our village,” he muttered.
“No, he was alive and well. I did not have the opportunity to accost him. It was at a marketplace and he disappeared among the crowd before I got near him.”
“He deserves to pay for what he did,” growled Torsten. “He is a murderer and should not get away with it.”
“He disappeared and we were too busy trying to survive to seek vengeance,” Erik remembered. “But now, if I should happen to see him again, I would try to bring him to justice.”
“It needs to go before the Thing so that we are not accused of murder,” Torsten said. “Even though it would be tempting to take revenge before he could escape.”
“You are right,” muttered Erik. “I will do my best if I see him again.”
“Where was he?”
“He was in jarl Jerrik’s lands.”
“Jarl Jerrik would be sympathetic to our cause,” Torsten said. “He is married to Halvar’s sister, after all. And he knows what Taft did to our village; Halvar has visited them and told him. But he probably does not know that Taft is in his lands.”
“I will go there again on my trading journeys,” Erik said. “I will make it my business to find the jarl and ask him to get his men to keep watch for Taft. We were friends in our youth.”
“He is a just man and a good ruler,” Torsten replied. “I am certain he will hear your request.”
“I have been taking some of my longer journeys by boat,” Erik said. “It is faster and easier than travelling by land. It means that I can visit many of the faraway marketplaces and buy lots of new goods to sell during the year.”
“That is a good idea,” Torsten replied. “Travel by land is often difficult and slow.”
“I am planning to go to the markets at Fram Hváll soon but I will be taking my wagon. Jerrik’s lands are not far beyond its borders. I will simply extend my journey to go and see him.”
“I am certain you will not be disappointed. He is a good man; he will listen to what you have to say.”
“Taft must be brought to justice. The blood of our people is crying out for us to take action.”
“You are right. But be careful; he is likely to have men with him.”
“I will,” Erik promised. “I am not foolish. I would prefer to ask for Jerrik’s help than to deal with the matter alone.”
“That is wise,” Torsten replied.
Erik looked at the sky. “I must allow you to finish your work,” he said. “I will go to see what Einar is doing at his new house.”
Torsten watched him go thoughtfully. Erik was right; Taft should not go unpunished for the destruction of their village and the murder of so many of their people. But would anyone be able to find him?
CHAPTER 3
Tara stumbled as she stepped onto land. One of the men yanked her upright but her legs still felt wobbly after the long boat journey. She wondered if this was the Norowegr place that Red Beard had spoken of, but she did not dare to ask him. She had started to learn some of the finngail language during the voyage and she had gathered that she and the other girls would be prized as slaves and would fetch a good price at the market. She pushed the thought aside, trying hard to breathe steadily even as fear and horror rose, threatening to choke her.
“Come!” Red Beard barked in their language and the girls followed him onto the dock, where two men were waiting for them.
The men came close, looking them over carefully. They felt Tara’s arms and opened her mouth to look at her teeth. Finally, they nodded, satisfied, and handed Red Beard a pile of money. He turned to Tara.
“You will be going with these men,” he told her. “You will become the concubine of a chieftain who wants a woman with red hair. You are fortunate. Good luck.” He turned and walked away, taking the other women with him.
Tara stood staring after them. Even though he was her captor, he had treated them well enough during the journey; Tara gathered that he wanted the girls to be in full health so that they would be more appealing to potential buyers. Now he was gone and with him, the only other people she knew. She was alone in a strange land, unable to speak the language, and destined for a life of slavery, whether or not she was married to a chieftain. Even as a concubine, she would have no choices and she would certainly never have the freedom to return to her homeland. The thought brought tears to her eyes but she determinedly fought them back. There was no way she was going to cry in front of the ruffians who had just bought her.
One of the men stepped up and tied a rope to her wrist. Then he tied the other end around his own wrist.
“Come!” he commanded.
Tara found herself being led to another boat; the men were careful to help her in; she assumed that they wanted her to look perfect for her new owner. Wounds and bruises might harm their chances of selling her.
The boat skirted the coastline and Tara realized what a mountainous place she now lived in. Forbidding rocky peaks towered over peaceful inlets; soaring pinnacles dwarfed tiny villages nestled into the landscape below. From time to time, the boat stopped at settlements along the coast, taking on passengers, goods, and slaves as they made their way north. Several other slave traders boarded with their slaves; most disembarked a short distance up the coast.
Finally, the boat stopped at a village and the men ordered Tara to get out. A woman was waiting at the dock for them. The men spoke to her and she took Tara by the arm.
“Come with me,” she said in Gaelic.
Tara gaped at her in surprise. “You speak my language?” she asked in shock.
“Yes. I am also from your land. I came here a long time ago as a slave and was able to earn my freedom. My name is Meara.”
“Then why do you not return?”
The woman shrugged. “There is nothing to return to. My village was destroyed and my family killed in the raid when I was captured. I am happy enough here. I have a husband who is away much of the time and he provides what I need.”
“Where are we going?” Tara asked as Meara led her towards a row of houses set back from the shore.
“You will spend a few days with me,” Meara said. “I will help you to dress and look like the people of our land. I will teach you some of the common words you should know to be able to converse. Then you will be presented to the chieftain. It is said that he wants a wife with red hair and you certainly have that!” She shook her head at Tara’s wild red mop. “It will take some work to clean you up and make you look presentable. You are one of the lucky ones; most women that come here are taken as bed-slaves and they do not receive the treatment that you will. I was a bed-slave when I first came here.”
Tara shuddered. “That must have been awful,” she said.
The woman got a faraway look in her eyes. “I try not to think about it,” she said. “I was able to buy my freedom after many years but my children remained in my master’s household.”
“How did you buy your freedom?” Tara wanted to know.
“I am good at embroidery and needlework. One of the wives in my master’s house took pity on me and gave me two scraps of cloth, a needle, and some thread. I think she just wanted me to have something to do that made me feel good. But I made something pretty, which I sold at the markets. With the money I earned, I bought more materials and I spent every spare moment working on my needlecraft. Eventually, I had enough money to buy my freedom.”
“And then what happened?” asked Tara.
“I supported myself by selling my work at the markets and by offering my services as domestic labor. Not everyone owns slaves and I got work here and there helping the karls with household or farm work. While doing that, I received an offer of marriage from a karl who travelled up and down the coast as a trader. I accepted.”
Tara was interested; it seemed that perhaps there was a way out of her situation. “Can I be free also?” she asked.
“Perhaps,” Meara replied. “It is not easy. Are you able to make something that you can sell?”
“I am also good at needlework,” Tara replied. “And I can make special cheese.”
“I cannot help you with milk for the cheese,” Meara said. “But I can give you some cloth and thread. I am grateful that someone helped me and I would like to repay the debt by helping someone else.”
“Thank you!” Tara exclaimed. “I will do my best to earn my freedom. When I do, I will repay you.”
Meara shook her head. “No. I do not need a repayment. I have enough. But if you find an opportunity to do the same for someone else, take it.”
“I will,” Tara promised.
Tara wished that she could stay with Meara forever. The woman helped her to understand some of the language and customs of her new home and it was wonderful to converse with someone who spoke her language. Meara provided her with a change of clothes and a bag to put them in. But the most important thing of all was the precious cloth, with the needle and thread. Tara wrapped the clothing carefully around them so that they did not get lost. She hoped that she would be able to do as Meara had and earn her freedom. The gift was more than just cloth; it was a gift of hope.
Three days after arriving at Meara’s house, the men who’d brought her to the village came back.
“Is she ready?” one of them asked.
Meara nodded. “She will do well,” she said.
The men handed over some money. Meara counted it and nodded, satisfied. She turned to Tara.
“God bless you, my dear,” she said. “I hope we shall meet again. But if not, I wish you well.”
“Thank you for your kindness,” Tara replied. “You were an answer to my prayers.”
“I hope that the future is kind to you,” Meara replied.
The men started to look impatient. “Come!” one of them barked.
“She looks healthy,” the chieftain said, peering closely at Tara’s face and skin. “And she has the red hair I requested. It is plentiful and very red.”
The men said nothing, allowing the chieftain to examine Tara at his leisure. She realized that the men were not assured of a sale and that their investment might not pay off if the chieftain refused to buy her.
“She is young,” the chieftain muttered, even though no one was answering him. “She will bear many children. My other wives have not yet given me enough.”
“She is strong and fit,” one of the men ventured.
The chieftain looked at him but said nothing and the man shut his mouth.
“Where did you get her?” the chieftain asked.
“I bought her from traders,” the man answered.
“And where did she come from before that?”
“From Dubh Linn, Sir.”
The chieftain frowned. “She is a foreigner,” he said. “Does she speak our language?”
“Enough.”
The chieftain turned to Tara. “Speak!” he barked.
She looked stricken. “Heill,” she finally managed to squeak, unsure of what the chieftain wanted. Was she really to be a wife? Or did he intend to buy her for a bed-slave? Her heart hammered with terror as he closely examined her, squeezing her slim arms and small breasts.
“She is skinny,” he muttered, then glared at the traders. “Could you not find me a woman with more meat on her bones?”
They said nothing and kept their heads lowered. They had done business with this chieftain before and knew it was best to say nothing while he examined a potential purchase.
At length, the chieftain was done. “Bring the other woman in,” he ordered a servant. “I wish to compare them side-by-side.
A moment later, another red-haired woman entered the room, escorted by two men. Tara’s owners looked at each other in dismay. Surely, the chieftain would not have two women to choose from! Their investment could end up being costly if they could not sell her.
“Stand there!” the chieftain ordered, pointing to a place beside Tara.
The woman obeyed, fear and misery on her face. Tara felt sorry for her, even though they were both in the same predicament.
“Oh, God,” Tara silently prayed. “Save me from this awful fate.”
The chieftain walked up and down in front of the two women, examining each one closely.
“The native one has more meat on her bones,” he said to no one in particular. “The foreign one is skinny. The native one is taller. She will bear many tall, strong sons. But her hair is not as thick or as red and she is not as pretty.”
Tara cringed, recognizing enough of the language to realize that she was being described in impersonal, degrading terms. These savage finngail didn’t recognize slaves as anything but property. Certainly not as people. It was a sickening shock to be reminded yet again that she was now worth only what her owners had paid for her. Somewhere during that transaction, her humanity had been stripped away, leaving nothing but the monetary value of her purchase.
“I will take the native one,” the chieftain announced. “It is more important that she is big and strong and able to bear many children. The foreign one is too skinny.”
The men with the other woman looked pleased and the chieftain ordered his steward to pay them. He took the woman by the arm and led her out of the room.
Tara’s owners looked at each other in dismay. They had taken a gamble and lost and it had cost them dearly. They had paid for the voyage up the coast and now they had to return. They had also paid Meara to care for her.
“Now we must return,” one of them said wearily.
“Let us hope the slave markets are kind to us,” said the other.
Tara shuddered. What would h
appen to her now?
CHAPTER 4
Erik got out the slim wooden tablet he’d used to take orders from his customers. He’d carved the runes into its surface to record the orders they’d placed. Now, as he reviewed it, he knew he would have to leave his home village within a few days to ensure that he would be at the marketplace in Fram Hváll at the right time. It was important to catch the traders from foreign lands before they sold all of their goods and departed. He had orders for cloth, leather goods, metal goods and other sundry items. Quite apart from the orders, he also wished to purchase goods that he would have available for display when he visited the villages in his journeys along the coast. He smiled with satisfaction; he had earned good money over the past few months and it was a far more satisfying way to make a living than farming. His trading business had increased to the point where he would be able to support a wife and family and his conversations with his friends over the past few days had highlighted what was missing in his life. It was time he became serious about finding himself a wife. He had enough to pay a good bride-price now.
He headed out to his trader’s wagon and started to unload the remaining goods that hadn’t sold from his last journey. They would sell in the future, but for now, he needed the space to bring home new goods from the markets. This was one occasion where a servant or slave might be helpful but he preferred to do most of the work himself. The servant that worked around the longhouse was busy preparing food, so he was left to do the job on his own. Not that he minded; it gave him time to think. What would life be like if he had a wife and family? Would he be able to find a suitable wife?
Later that evening, he went inside for the evening meal, sniffing appreciatively at the delicious smells wafting from the cooking pot; Alvilda was a good cook. She was a widow that had come to their village seeking work. Einar had hired her in exchange for lodging and a small wage. She worked hard and cooked delicious meals; Erik found himself wondering what would happen to her once Einar married. Would Alvilda go to live with him once he was married to Sigrid? Or did Einar expect Erik to continue to pay her? He resolved to ask.
Tara: Taken (Viking Guardians Book 5) Page 2
