by Susan Wright
Jedvard smiled indulgently at the young man. “My son Jens will escort you to a guest chamber, freya. I must consult with my council on a matter such as this. I will summon you soon.”
Silveta clasped his hand in gratitude. “Your generosity will be well rewarded, Overlord.”
He turned and marched out with the rest of the men, leaving only Jens behind. Several of the olfs lingered with the son, obviously fascinated by him. Jens was tall but wiry, with a dusting of peach fuzz on his chin. I liked his dewy freshness; it reminded me of my fellow slaves.
Silveta was barely two summers older than we, but she replied to Jens’ innocent queries as if he were one of the children that littered the place. From their familiar tone, I could tell they had known each other for along time. Silveta had grown up not far away, and was likely accustomed to regularly visiting the bastion.
Indeed, Silveta instructed Lexander on where to go to send word of her plight to her father and call him to her side. Meanwhile Jens showed us up a spiral staircase into a round room with a low, peaked ceiling. There was a richly draped bed and the air smelled fresh like the ocean breeze that wafted through the window.
Then as casually as she ordered her own servants around, Silveta requested water to bathe and some proper clothes. Jens left, looking somewhat daunted but determined to find something that would suit Silveta’s nobility.
When he was gone, I blurted out, “Why are you treating him that way?”
Silveta turned away from the window in surprise. “What are you talking about?”
“He’s the overlord’s son.”
“Jens is a child!” She laughed.
“He could marry tomorrow, if he wished. And he certainly has his father’s fond eye. You could do worse than to cultivate his goodwill.”
Silveta blinked a few times, sitting down on the bench. “Jens was always a silly boy, getting under everyone’s feet. But I suppose he’s not so young anymore. I feel I have grown so old . . . a widow after a few scant years of marriage.”
“You are too forbidding, Silveta. I know ’tis due to need. But you can be softer to him.”
Silveta jerked her chin. “You want me to tempt that poor boy? I’m not like you, throwing myself at everyone I see. I have my dignity.”
“You’re running for your life, freya. I say bed him if you can.”
She blushed rosy red. “Never! I would not buy freedom with my body.”
Jens came back before I could ask why not. I traded what others valued in order to survive. Surely Silveta had done the same when she became the wife of the aged chieftain.
I was pleased to see that Silveta was much kinder to Jens when he returned, thanking him for the clothing he brought, even holding out her hand in gratitude as she had done with his father. Her obvious emotion, since it was so rare, was all the more touching. I remembered how she had begged me to take her place in bed to deceive Birgir. Even if I hadn’t been under Lexander’s geasa, I likely would have done as she requested.
I slipped outside to stand on the stairs, closing the door to a crack to give them privacy. Silveta narrowed her eyes after me, but I trusted in the olfs. They did not venture near those who were wicked, and they clearly adored Jens. He absently brushed them away from his head, like errant flies, as if sensing how close they were.
Silveta seemed torn, having become accustomed to holding all men at arm’s length to protect herself, and now traumatized from being raped. However, Jens was not a full-grown man, but a youth, and her early association with him must have been comforting. She gazed at Jens as if she had never really seen him before. He was a handsome lad, with his father’s auburn hair curling at his shoulders and round blue eyes.
He still held her hand. “I know my father will help you, Silveta. How could he not counter such brutality?”
“I can only hope the overlord will see how much he has to gain by supporting me.”
“He’ll meet with his council this afternoon. I just heard word has gone out to summon those who are not in the bastion.”
“It’s not likely my father will make it here in time,” Silveta said, biting her lip. “I have no one to speak for me.”
“You can speak for yourself. Surely you’ll be allowed. I’ll come to escort you to the council, myself.”
Her expression softened. “You’ve been more than kind, Jens.”
Something clearly bothered him. Hesitantly, his fingers touched the bruise on her cheek. “Is it painful?”
“Yes.” She hesitated, unused to revealing any weakness. “I fear I will be forced to endure more at that butcher’s hand.”
He gazed into her eyes, and she too seemed caught up in the moment. He bowed down to kiss her hand, and she drew in her breath. Jens kept his lips to her hand for a long time, and she did not try to pull away.
I felt a touch on my shoulder and started in surprise. It was Lexander. He looked through the crack to see Jens reverently kissing Silveta’s hand. “Good instinct,” he murmured, “but wrong man. Jedvard is not likely to send his youngest son into battle against Birgir, however toothsome a prize Markland would be.”
Lexander pushed open the door. Silveta pulled away from Jens, mortified at being caught in even this innocent act. She was flushed and breathing faster. Jens was grinning as if he would never stop. He assured Silveta several times that he would return for her. Then he finally left.
“I’ll go with him,” Lexander told Silveta. “Perhaps I can learn more to your advantage in the negotiations. They will expect trade rights in return for their support.”
“I’ll consider what concessions you can convey to the overlord,” Silveta agreed, retreating behind her dignified mask.
I slipped out after Lexander, but he waved for me to stay behind. When I tried to return, Silveta shut the door in my face.
I had nothing to do but to sit in the wooden staircase that spiraled down several floors, waiting until I was needed again.
I had plenty of time to consider my plight. I did not want to go back to Tillfallvik while Birgir was there. But surely Silveta intended to return with the overlord’s men to fight for her estate.
Lexander reappeared twice to confer privately with Silveta, then left to pass on her concessions to the overlord. He didn’t speak to me. Though I listened through the door to their discussions of trade rights, I couldn’t tell if Lexander intended to return to Tillfallvik with Silveta. Lexander owned me, and I would do whatever he ordered. The only thing I would not do was surrender myself to him. I had too great a fear of the Otherworld to risk being subsumed.
Olfs came and went all day, no doubt curious about us. They popped into the stairwell to examine me, then disappeared into the round room where Silveta bathed and prepared herself. In the mystical way of otherworldly creatures, it seemed they knew of Silveta and her importance to the northern olfs. They mocked my somber mood, and soon convinced me that our presence in the bastion was cause for celebration.
By the time Jens returned, Silveta was her elegant self once more—perfectly coiffed and wearing a dress of yellow silk that Jens had given her. Jens was stricken into awed silence at the sight of her. I watched from my hiding place on the steps huddled in the shadows.
Jens led her reverently down to the landing on the second floor. I had explored as far as I dared during the day. I could tell they were heading to the northernmost end of the bastion, where the tallest towers were gathered. I trailed after them.
After a short walk, we met up with Lexander outside a stout door. It was constructed of heavy beams bound with iron, as if meant to hold off the wind and snow even though we were deep inside the bastion. Two guards watched us from either side as we gathered in the wide hallway. A few servants loitered about, waiting to be given orders.
Half a dozen women were seated on benches at the end of the hallway, doing needlework by the sunlight slanting through two high windows. They were dressed as finely as Silveta, and their muted conversation grew more animated as they examined us
.
Jens opened the door at a nod from the guard. The narrow room beyond was so long that the flat beamed ceiling seemed low. But Lexander could not have touched it with his hand. A row of chairs ran along each wall, and at the end sat Jedvard. His massive wooden chair had an elaborate carved canopy projecting over his head. The big man rested one elbow on the polished arm.
I paused near the door, wary of all the eyes that turned to us. The dozen men who made up the overlord’s council were seated in high-backed carved chairs. Then I saw an olf sitting on the top of Jedvard’s chair, kicking its feet playfully over the edge. Surely that was a good sign.
Silveta went through the hall to stand directly in front of Jedvard. Lexander was one step behind at her right, acting as her bondi though I had not heard him give her a vow. I stayed behind them both, with my shawl tied firmly in place. I held the standing pose of submission with my head bowed and my hands clasped together, trying as hard as I could to disappear. I did not want to be a pawn in this game played by great men.
Jedvard sounded much more eager than he had earlier. “I have explained to my councilors your need, freya. And the terms your man has conveyed. But it is a weighty matter involving ourselves in civil war.”
“Though I am a daughter of Viinland,” Silveta proclaimed, “my right to Ejegod’s estate is confirmed in my marriage contract. There will be no civil war, only a battle against a brigand who murdered my husband. I am quite sure that years of cooperation between our nations are worth far more than the little help I am asking for.”
Lexander nodded slightly.
An old man seated to our right spoke up. “What if Birgir Barfoot does not surrender? If I am correct, he arrived with a hundred warriors. Surely he could prove to be the victor and remain the chieftain of Markland.”
“My people have not and never will accept Birgir as chieftain,” Silveta swore, looking straight at Jedvard. “Without their support, he has no hope of success. I can guarantee our trade agreements will be honored, and surely that is advantageous to you.”
Jens had gone to stand beside his father’s chair. His eyes were shining as he watched Silveta passionately defend her rights. But he was merely a boy in rut. I wished he had been more of a man.
The overlord considered his councilors, who had no further protests. “We accept your proposal, Silveta. Fifty of my best men will go with you to Tillfallvik and stay until your new chieftain is named. If that man is not your choice for husband, perhaps you would consider one who has direct links to the overlord?”
Silveta bowed slightly. “I am pleased to honor the overlord in any way I can. I cannot thank you enough for assisting me in my time of need . . .”
She trailed off as the door swung open and a guard hurried in. He went straight to the overlord’s chair, asking a question in a low voice. Jens looked urgently at Silveta as if silently trying to warn her.
Jedvard straightened. “It seems Birgir Barfoot has sent his own emissary. Send him in so he can speak to my council.”
A chill went through me. My hands clutched at Lexander’s cloak as several of Birgir’s bondi entered the chamber. Niall was among them. His black pointed beard made him stand out among the blond warriors.
Niall spied me immediately, and his dark eyes snapped with anger. Lexander looked down at me as I tried to hide behind him. “What did you do to this man, Marja?” he murmured.
“I escaped from him,” I admitted, “after I pleased him into oblivion.”
Niall was clearly in disfavor because one of the other men addressed the overlord. “Greetings, Overlord Jedvard! We bring a missive from Birgir, Chieftain of Markland,” he announced, holding the parchment up for all the councilors to see. “As Chieftain of Markland by right of conquest and forfeit, Birgir will swear fealty to the Overlord of the commonwealth of Viinland if Silveta, his bride-to-be, is returned to him.”
“No!” Silveta exclaimed. “That is not true! Birgir has not been confirmed as chieftain by the magnates.”
Niall stepped forward. “The magnates support Birgir. Already they are flocking to him. Markland needs a strong hand to rule.”
Silveta gasped. “Birgir slew my husband, stole my estate, and raped me! ’Tis against every common law.”
Niall sneered at her. “Your rights are forfeit because of your crimes, Silveta. You succor a sorceress, named so by Ejegod himself, who attempted twice to kill Birgir at your behest. You lie, as all women lie!”
Jens started forward, his hand on his knife as if to attack Niall.
Jedvard stopped him with one hand. He silenced the rising questions from the councilors. “There will be no brawling in my chambers!” He gestured to his son. “Take Silveta back to the tower. My councilors must consider how to deal with this matter.”
I was only too glad to get away from Niall. But Silveta dragged her feet, staring anxiously at Jedvard. “I beg you support my people, Overlord. A man who begins with treachery could not be loyal to you. You cannot trust Birgir as you can trust me. I have given you my allegiance my entire life.”
Jedvard gestured to the guards to go with us, while Birgir’s bondi smirked as they watched us leave. Lexander’s brows furrowed as two more guards joined us.
When the door closed behind us, Jens assured Silveta, “My father must deal with Birgir’s men wisely. Who knows where their sights may land next?”
I realized that Birgir’s warband could be as much a threat to Viinland as to Markland.
Silveta wrung her hands and cried, “Oh, where is my father?”
The three of us filed up the spiral stairs and into the chamber at the top of the tower. The guards would not let Jens enter with us. He called out, “I’ll return shortly! I must hear their negotiations. Never fear, Silveta.”
Lexander stood beside the door as it closed, listening. At a scraping sound, he tried to lift the latch. “They’ve locked us in. A guard is outside.”
I was shocked. “The overlord would not betray us!”
“I wish I were as confident as you,” he retorted.
“But . . . he couldn’t be evil,” I finally said, thinking of all the olfs who flocked to him. “How could he harm us?”
Silveta was pacing back and forth by the windows. “Jedvard would do whatever it took to protect the commonwealth. He would even congratulate himself on gaining the wealth of Markland for his people.”
Lexander agreed. “Birgir offers far more than Silveta, with no risk for the overlord’s bondsmen. Even if you offered to become a province of Viinland, Silveta, fighting to win your estate back would still be the greater risk for him.”
“I could never offer that,” she insisted. “I could not break the vow I made when I married Ejegod, to uphold Markland’s independence.”
“Birgir is willing to give that much,” Lexander reminded her.
“No, there’s still my father,” Silveta declared. “He would never let Birgir get away with this.”
“Then that is our last hope,” Lexander said.
Silveta stared at him, no doubt thinking as I did—Jedvard could turn us over to Birgir’s men and gain another province for Viinland. A wealthy gift, indeed, for very little effort. Then Silveta would be forced to wed Birgir and be subjected to his sadistic ways, while I would be devoured by his bondi. And the olfs . . . they would take flight from Tillfallvik as they had fled from Vidaris, while Birgir’s evil spread unfettered throughout the land.
Fourteen
“We must flee,” I whispered. I went to Lexander, grasping him by the arm. “Please, Master! We must get to our boat.”
“You think I can escape from the bastion?” he retorted in disbelief. “This place is impregnable. We will stay here until Jedvard decides what to do with us.”
I couldn’t believe it, but the resignation in his eyes was unfeigned. Yet surely a god could do whatever he willed . . . perhaps I had misunderstood him after all.
Silveta collapsed on a bench, her hands clenched against her face. Yet she seemed convi
nced that her father would rise to her aid.
With the specter of Birgir and his men before me, I could not be so sanguine. I went to the window and opened the glass panels. The window was high in the wall, so I dragged a bench underneath to stand on. I pulled the shawl from my head so I could lean out. The wall curved away from me in both directions. The roof came down at a sharp angle above us.
My hands caressed the stones. They were round and slippery from the moisture of the sea. Most were the size of my head or larger. Mortar was packed tightly between them. I would never be able to scale this wall as I had the timber buildings on Ejegod’s estate.
I pulled back inside and considered Lexander, who was listening at the door. It seemed impossible that he could suffer. Slowly, I sat down on the bench to watch him. I sank into myself, instinctively sending out a call for the olfs to come to me. I wondered why none were here.
As the long day wore on, the beam of sunlight moved up the wall. Still Lexander did nothing but listen at the door. Silveta got up to pace time and again, murmuring to herself.
When the sky shaded to twilight, an olf finally appeared. It hovered at the ceiling near the door, watching us and staying unusually still. I had hoped it would flit around happily to show me that all was well, but its wretched expression told me we had much to fear.
I went to stand directly beneath the olf, trying to calm my agitation and radiating soothing thoughts. I couldn’t think about Niall or Birgir because my dread could frighten the olf off. I breathed slowly and deeply, touching the flow of spirits in this place.
The feeling in the bastion was one of alarm. We had brought the troubles of Markland into the very heart of Viinland. The council feared what Birgir would do to their land, while the folk in the bastion thought it a neat resolution to marry Silveta to Birgir. Few people took seriously her refusal to marry him. After all, her first husband had been an old man who could seed no child. A lusty warrior was seen as a much better alternative, even if he had the presumption to bed her before he wed her.
