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by Desconhecido

  Terror fed the anger burning her inside. “Get off me! Demon-spawned dog-humping boy-man!” she screamed and kicked when he reached for her again. Her foot connected with his chin. Other hands grabbed her from behind and hauled her to her knees and held her hard by her shoulders. The whole camp was watching them now. Desperation strengthened her and she fought the men holding her, but to no avail. Panic filled her but she wouldn’t give up, wouldn’t make it easy for them!

  Floki wiped blood from his lip. “You stupid sow! I’ll whip the skin from you then ride you harder than those beardless raiders!”

  He balled up his fist to hit her but suddenly flew backward onto the ground. Someone had yanked him back by his braid. Fridgeir towered over him with Arinbjorn and Giermund flanking him. Fridgeir’s hand reached for his seax.

  “She’s mine! You’ve no right to touch her. Get up and face me like a man.” He drew his knife.

  Floki jumped to his feet. “She bit me and then kicked me. I demand the right to punish her!”

  Fridgeir’s eyes narrowed. “No reason for your face to be close enough for her to bite you unless you thought you’d help yourself to my slave. Pull your blade or admit it.”

  Floki pulled his knife. “They’re slaves—we’ve the right to handle them. It’s not like you’ve made good your claim anyway, should be open to anyone! And she bit me first thing, then kicked me. I’m within my rights!”

  Men backed off into a circle, holding Eireann and a sobbing Saibh out of the way.

  “Lying man-whore! I didn’t bite you until that piece of pig dung grabbed my sister!” Eireann snarled. Then a cold shock hit her—she realized they meant to fight over her, really fight! With knives! She couldn’t miss the irony of two barbarians fighting over her battered body, again. A wicked grin flickered across her face. Once more she hoped Fridgeir would win over the other one.

  * * * *

  The two men circled. Fridgeir waited for the other to strike. He wanted to see how far Floki would push it. Floki struck with a slash meant to do more than draw first blood. Fridgeir made sure he barely missed. Floki beamed confidence. Fridgeir tried to hide his grin as they circled again. He’d seen Eirik play this game many times. Now he understood why. Way more fun then just blooding a rival. He made what looked like a half-hearted lunge at Floki and seemed to barely miss being skewered. Floki fainted a lunge, expecting Fridgeir to counter. Instead, Fridgeir knocked the blade wide and Floki got the hilt of Fridgeir’s knife in his face. Blood flowed from his broken nose. Fridgeir stepped back with a wicked grin. The crunch of bone satisfied far better than a shallow cut, and added insult to the blooding. He’d learned that from Eirik too.

  “First blood to Fridgeir and by Oden’s beard that better be the last of it, Floki!” Eirik’s angry voice ended the fight. He walked up to Saibh, still sobbing and only on her feet because someone held her there. “Let her go.”

  She collapsed in a pile.

  “Which one of you manhandled the girl?” As Fridgeir watched, Eirik’s gaze raked the group and he inhaled deeply. His stare fixed on the man responsible. The man swallowed hard and stepped forward.

  “I just kissed her is all. I didn’t mean to upset her so much.” He dropped his chin and eyes in submission. His voice was filled with regret.

  Eirik motioned him to step closer. The man drew himself up and stepped forward to take his punishment. Eirik made him wait while he surveyed the rest of them.

  “This girl is underage! Collar or not, you will treat her so. I offered her my protection.” He paused and eyed them one by one again. “My protection. Which means every one of you is oath-bound to protect her, not maul her!” His eyes narrowed dangerously. “You are new to my company but you won’t be warned again. I don’t sail with warriors who find sport in terrorizing slaves and especially not children!” With that last word he spun and hit the man in the chest so hard he flew back a foot before hitting the ground. The man lay gasping for breath.

  Knut cleared his throat. Eirik turned on him, jaw clenched and fire burning in the depths of his eyes.

  “There is still the matter of a slave kicking and biting a free man,” Knut stated with his chin raised in defiance.

  Eirik nodded. “Fridgeir, I expect you to educate your slave in proper behavior. She’s new and sought to protect another. Floki was out of line and already slapped her good, no further punishment will be meted out. This time.” He emphasized the last and stared hard at the now still redhead. “Do it again and you’ll find yourself back on that pole.” He looked around again. “Show’s over—find something else to do or you’ll find yourself scraping the Fire’s hull clean.”

  The man holding Eireann let her go and she dropped to the ground. Desperate to reach her sister she stretched as far as her chains allowed.

  Fridgeir sat on his heels and set his hand on her shoulder. “Eireann, you need to understand a few things,” he started gently.

  She pulled away and called to her sister. “Saibh, it’s all right, sister.”

  Fridgeir grabbed her chain and yanked her around to face him. Both hands now held her firmly by the shoulders. “Listen to me! You’re a slave now, my slave. Ignore me again and you’ll regret it! You do as you’re told, when you’re told.” She struggled but he held her tight. He could see the willful, stubborn expression she wore to cover her fear.

  “Eireann! You are my slave—no other man can have you. But you cannot bite anyone—no hitting, kicking or knocking anyone over. You can call for help and push them away, but only men bothering you like Floki was. He was out of line. He’d no right to touch you like that. But it’s my responsibility to take care of it, to protect you. Not yours, understand?” He hardened his tone and face hoping she would understand the seriousness of the matter.

  “If you think I’m going to just lay there and take it when some other man tries to shove his pisser in me, think again! Beat me—I don’t care, but I won’t hold still for them!” Her words hissed out through clenched jaws.

  “Is that why you bit him? You thought he would actually bed you?” It became clear why she had so many bruises. It didn’t matter that she knew she couldn’t win, she’d still fight.

  She glared at him “Yes and no—I was trying to protect my sister! I bit him so he’d let go and I could go after that goat-loving whore who grabbed and started mauling her! Look at her!” She pointed to her sister’s still form. “I couldn’t let them—”

  Fridgeir gave her a little shake. “It’s not your job any more. You asked for us to protect her and we will. In return, you promised to cooperate. That’s the deal.”

  She shook her head. “You expect me to just let them have at her, too? Not going to happen.” She glared at him with a defiant set to her jaw.

  “Eireann, you don’t understand. First, they wouldn’t have taken it that far. We aren’t like those hairless raiders.”

  She snorted rudely. “You didn’t see him! Or feel him all over you! He grabbed my throat and said he’d beat me and then ride me! What was I supposed to think?”

  “Even so, no man of Eirik’s company would dare bed a slave in front of everyone like that. And if they did try, there’ll always be others around to stop them. Floki’s new, he may not realize that yet. Do you think I just happened to show up in time? No, Sven came for me. And as for Saibh, understand this, slave or not, bedding your sister could get them whipped just because of her age. Since she’s under Eirik’s protection, they would get worse punishment.”

  Her brow drew down in confusion.

  Fridgeir continued. “Yes, there is worse than a simple whipping. And you. You have to control yourself. You hurt a freeman and Eirik won’t hang you up so anyone can relieve themselves on you. He’ll hang you face first to the pole and whip the flesh from your back and leave you hanging for days! Hurt a free man or woman seriously enough and you can be executed. You’re a slave and you can’t fight with freemen or women. And worse for your sister, it would mean you can’t honor your word, your prom
ise to cooperate. We’d have no reason to honor ours and plenty to gain by selling her.” He pointed to Saibh. “Think about what happens to her if you break your word! Call someone if you need but I don’t think any will bother her again. It’s a matter of honor now. So long as you hold up your part and behave!”

  * * * *

  Eireann stared blankly at him trying to take it all in. Whipped? Executed? That didn’t scare her as much as what they might do to Saibh. It would be hard, but for her sister, she’d find a way. She nodded acceptance and sat down, hands in her lap. “So I have to let them paw me? Kiss me?” She sighed resignedly. This was what the raiders had failed to do, to get her to give in. She felt cold inside.

  Fridgeir sighed. “Touch you, yes, and maybe a small kiss. You can push them away, call them any name you like. Just remember they can’t hurt you or do more than that. If anyone does, I’ll blood him or worse.”

  She stared at her chain and bound hands. “I don’t know if I can, just let them…let them…” she whispered, and hated herself for the way her voice shook slightly, “but I’ll try.”

  Fridgeir’s voice softened. “Eireann, I know it’s hard, especially after what those raiders did to you. But I believe you’re strong enough to handle it.”

  She nodded but said nothing. There was nothing more to say.

  “Right now, your sister needs you.” He stood and released Saibh from her ring. She lay silent on the ground. Fridgeir bent down and gently touched her, saying softly, “Saibh, go to Eireann now.”

  She fled to her waiting sister’s arms.

  Chapter 5

  Day 2, evening

  Flames shot skyward from a pyre of wood on the clifftop to the south. Anyone looking from inland would likely miss it in the sun’s glare. But to those at sea, it would be a clear beacon. As soon as the sun had set, the fire was pushed off the cliff to die upon the rocks below. They would repeat the beacon at sunset each night until it was answered.

  Men gathered around the fire pit and the cauldron of stew that had been simmering all day. Several days, actually—they just added more to it for each meal, as had the raiders before them. Fridgeir and Arinbjorn filled two bowls each. They offered food to the sisters and sat to eat.

  Eireann took a few bites, deep in thought. “Fridgeir, what did he mean when he said you hadn’t made good your claim?” she asked hesitantly, afraid she already knew the answer.

  Fridgeir smiled slyly. “To make good a claim on a slave, a woman slave, a man leaves his seed in her. Then no other can have her unless he agrees.”

  Arinbjorn spoke wryly. “It’s supposed to prevent fights like today.”

  “Or the strong from hogging all the good women to themselves. It’s one of our oldest laws and an even older custom,” Steinolf added as he joined them.

  She stared at him a moment. “Laws? Vicious Northmen have laws?” She couldn’t believe it. “Everyone seems to think the strongest run roughshod over everyone else. That as true sons of demons, killing is all you know how to do. Even among yourselves!” Her surprise sounded like a taunt.

  The men laughed. Eirik settled across from her. “We have laws and although matters of honor are settled by first blood among warriors, no one expects our women or certain other classes of men to hold by it. Law is to keep the strong from running roughshod over the weak!”

  Fridgeir grinned and glanced toward Floki’s group. “Or gutting the stupid.”

  The others guffawed and sent meaningful glances toward Floki and Knut.

  More seriously, Eirik added, “Men who fight together are family, of sorts. We depend on each other and live very close, far closer than townfolk. We had to develop ways of settling disputes that keep us together, not drive us apart. So yes, we have laws we live by. And yes, some deal with acquiring slaves and who has rights to them. You should be flattered, it’s not that often someone challenges over a slave like this.”

  She snorted. “Oh, so honored!” She mocked them by standing and offering a bow.

  Good-natured laughter filled the air around them.

  “I’m still confused. How can demon spawn here—” she tipped her head toward Fridgeir, “have a claim on me without having…” She tried to think of a politer way to say raped me.

  The men sniggered while Eirik answered, “In a fight, a man makes a verbal claim or grabs the woman and ties her up, or something like that. Normally we’re a bit too busy splitting heads to have time for sport.” In the dull light from the fire she saw the Northmen smirking and nudging each other playfully. “So law allows a time period for said man to make good his claim, and if there’s a problem with the woman, he can get an exception. More time to make good his claim.”

  She shook her head. “Amazing—you actually have rules…oh, no—laws on how to abduct and rape women.” She let her scorn show but it only got more laughs. “Northmen!” She made it sound like an insult but they still chuckled.

  Fridgeir stroked the side of her face. “We also have laws about how often.”

  “You have got to be kidding! Let me guess, no more than twice a day?”

  More laughter.

  “No, just that she can’t be neglected. If a man’s not making use of her, someone else should have the chance,” Fridgeir replied with a shrug.

  “Of course! Gods forbid a woman might get to sleep alone and unmolested!” Her sarcastic tone caused more snickering and men looking slyly between Fridgeir and her.

  Giermund waggled his brows and seemed to bite back a laugh. “So you see, Floki’s just concerned that Fridgeir might be neglecting you. Maybe he just hates the thought of you pining away for lack of bed sports.”

  The laughter at his words enraged her, and sarcasm dripped from her lips. “I had no idea he cared. I mistook him for a dog-humping man-whore. My mistake! I should apologize…” she paused, “right after I shove his undersized balls down his throat!”

  The group roared again.

  “You show you care by hitting a woman or fighting over her? Foreplay is what? Beating her first? Or just tying her up and throwing her on the ground?” Her reasonable tone belied her harsh words.

  The men laughed again. They’re really starting to piss me off! Have they no shame at all?

  Arinbjorn leaned forward. “If you’re Fridgeir, biting works better than hitting. Although I think he prefers to be the one bitten!” The scene was descending into an uproar of laughter and joking. It shocked her not only that they would say such things about another, but that he joined in.

  Eirik caught a whiff of her growing anger. “In truth, most of us prefer our sports gentler. And yes, there are laws for that too!”

  She snorted. “Let me guess—no hitting her so hard her screams wake the rest of you? No bites deep enough to take chunks out?” She sneered her contempt. Men passed the wine, shot meaningful glances at Fridgeir and sniggered. From beyond their circle she heard plenty of lewd suggestions. Each one worse than the last.

  “No,” he replied evenly. “No man can beat a slave to death without serious cause. Inflicting constant pain and suffering can be challenged. Pain like undeserved beatings.”

  “Or suffering caused by not enjoying bed sports!” Giermund quipped with a big smirk.

  She shook her head. “We have very different ideas on what suffering means. I think having an oversized hairy demon spawn relieving himself on you whenever he wants would be suffering!” The total lack of understanding on their faces fueled her rage.

  * * * *

  Eirik felt a chill—her anger smelled stronger. He needed to diffuse this conversation before it got any worse. Giermund jumped in before he had the chance.

  “Not if he does it right!” Giermund winked. “Figures out how she likes it.”

  Eirik saw Eireann’s eyes narrow as her outrage grew. He sensed her thoughts before she uttered a word.

  “How could any woman like being forced to a demon-spawned savage’s bed!”

  Cedric jumped in quickly with a lewd wink. “Doesn’t take
long for most women to want it.”

  “What woman would want to have a pack of demon spawn tie her down and shove their filthy pissers up her, grunting like the pigs they are until they’ve oozed out all their disgusting man pus!” She shook with rage, humiliation and despair.

  Eirik could see tears rising in her eyes, and the way she fought them back. He had to admire her determination not to break down in front of them.

  Eireann raged on. “…and then listen to their braying like a donkey about how much she must have enjoyed it despite her screams and curses! Filthy goat-sucking, dog-humping, half-witted demon-spawned northland beasts!” She turned away, still shaking but now from holding back tears she refused to shed. Saibh whimpered slightly and strained to reach her. For once, Eireann had no comfort to offer her little sister.

  Like many others, Fridgeir sat open-mouthed in complete shock. Eirik could see he’d thought she’d been enjoying the word play. Fridgeir looked at Eirik and Arinbjorn for advice. Eirik could do no more than offer him a sympathetic look. He gave a nod toward her, encouraging Fridgeir to offer her comfort. She needed it from Fridgeir, not him.

  Fridgeir shifted over and set a hand on her shoulder. “Eireann—”

  Eirik nodded encouragement to his soft tone.

  She shrank away from him. “Don’t touch me, you goat-humping demon-spawned beast!”

  Fridgeir pulled back and looked to Eirik again. Eirik rose and motioned the others to join him. Fridgeir started to rise but Eirik motioned him to stay, they had to work this out together. Fridgeir nodded his understanding and thanks.

  A jeering voice came out of the dark. “Oden’s beard! You boys going to let a slave insult you like that? What are you waiting for? Get it done or let someone else have a go at her.”

  Fridgeir rose with blood in his eye but Eirik again motioned him to stay.

  Eirik stalked over to Knut, Floki and their cadre of men new to Eirik’s company. He kept his voice low so she wouldn’t hear. “Any man can beat a slave into submission, although you might kill that one trying. It takes real skill to seduce one into giving it willingly. Really willing, not just resigned to her fate or broken-spirited. Takes the patience of a skilled hunter, the cunning of a great warrior and a strength of will found only deep inside to win one over, keeping their heart and soul intact. It’s a true test of a man, as much as prowess in battle and living in honor. Especially with one who’s been savaged as she has. And the reward’s far more than a moment’s satisfaction of the flesh. If you can’t understand that, you don’t belong in my company.” His no-nonsense tone shut them up.