by Phoebe Conn
Leaving the sword behind, she ran to the meadow where Mylan had shot the deer. Skirting the edge of the wide field, she gathered branches for the fire she would need, bundling the dry wood with green and carrying it back to the trees close to the bear’s den. She was careful to select a spot downwind so as not to attract the bear’s notice, and began practicing with the flint to be certain she could start a fire in the dim light of dawn. She had often watched Mylan build fires and understood the process, but she rehearsed it repeatedly, too anxious to leave such an important step to chance.
It was nearly dark when she heard the bear returning to his lair, his low growls sending shivers of fright up her spine, but she remained hidden among the trees and her presence went undetected. Huddled in the shadows she waited for the night to pass, blowing on her hands for warmth while she sang softly to herself to stay awake, but most often her mind was filled with thoughts of the handsome man who had won her heart. She gripped his charm tightly, the coolness of the silver reminding her all too vividly of the differences between them.
If she did not live to reach home, then she hoped he would remember the last night they had spent together as being as beautiful as all the others, for she knew if the bear were to attack her as savagely as he had mauled Mylan there would be nothing left of her for him to recognize, let alone remember. That gruesome prospect kept her wide awake until dawn lent a faint tint of rose to the eastern sky, and, after stretching to gain confidence that her tired muscles would not fail her, she carried the wood she had gathered to the entrance of the cave and placed it just inside. Her fingers shook badly as she struck the flint, but the dry wood caught fire instantly and in a moment ignited the green branches, which burned with billows of acrid smoke. The morning breeze carried the evil-smelling fumes well into the dark recess in the hillside. She took the heavy sword and climbed up to the rocky ledge to await her prey.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears while the fire crackled and surrounded her with near blinding smoke. She feared she had outsmarted herself rather than the bear, but at last heard a low growl and then another. She braced herself carefully against the rocks, and when the enraged beast appeared at the mouth of the cave seeking relief from the dense smoke disturbing his slumber, she raised the sword. The sharp edge of the steel blade caught the beast on the side of the neck, slashing his dark fur, and a bright fountain of crimson blood spewed so high into the air it splashed her, dampening her soft suede clothing with gore.
Terrified, she shrieked more loudly than the wounded bear, but she held on to the shining weapon, ready to strike again. The bloodied animal staggered back into his smoke-filled lair and was quiet, leaving her no choice but to wait on the ledge as the sun rose. She dared not relax her pose when at any minute the beast might again come lumbering out into the open. He would now surely be able to sense her presence, the fire had died down to no more than a few wisps of smoke, and her scent would fill the air. She heard no sound at all from deep within the cave, but she still shook with the fright of her grisly deed.
Her mouth was dry, her breath coming in hoarse gasps, but she dared not leave the ledge until she was certain the bear was dead. When she had heard nothing by the time the sun was high overhead she was convinced he could not possibly have survived the vicious blow she had dealt him. She now focused upon a new problem, for even though she had slain the bear, Mylan had asked for proof, and she could not possibly skin the animal unless she were able to drag the carcass out into the sunshine so she would have room and light enough to work.
The beast had been immense, weighing far too much for her to attempt to move unassisted, so what was she to do? Her only choice would be to summon Mylan to help her, and, after waiting a short while longer simply for safety’s sake, she climbed down from the ledge and ran back through the trees, hoping she would not become as lost on her way home as she had on her journey there.
*
When Mylan had awakened to find Celiese gone he had not been greatly worried. That she had left him no breakfast was annoying, but he refused to prepare his own, and did not notice the flint was missing. When he could not find his dagger he feared it was misplaced and tried to recall if he had had it with him when he had gone out the previous evening. If he had lost it on his walk he would never be able to find it, for he had paid no attention as he had wandered through the woods and could not recall where he had been. Fortunately, he had other knives among his weapons, but hoped he had not lost his favorite. Unwilling to wait for Celiese to appear, he left the house to begin a series of troublesome chores that could no longer be ignored.
He worked all day, expecting his ambitious slave to appear at any moment with game for their supper, but when he returned to his home in the afternoon he found her bow and quiver where she had left them the day before and was angry for not noticing them earlier. It was then he began to wonder where she could have gone and what her purpose might have been if it were not to hunt. Perplexed by that mystery, he sat down to enjoy some ale while he considered what her options were.
There was honey, of course, and wild berries, which they enjoyed, but had she gone to search for those delicacies she would have returned by now. He grew increasingly anxious and got up from his chair frequently to go to the door and survey the path that led to the woods, hoping to see her approaching. Too late he realized she was not coming home, and his rage was too fierce to contain, for he had not thought the young woman would ever dare to run away again. He threw himself angrily down upon the furs and attempted to sleep, but could not. At the first light of dawn he set out to search for her.
*
Celiese had traveled no more than half a mile when she met Mylan upon the path. He was carrying his spear and scowling wickedly as she ran up to him, but she was so excited by what she had accomplished that she did not stop to consider how greatly her disappearance had angered him. “Mylan, come quickly!” She turned back in the direction from which she had come, expecting him to follow, but he reached out to take her arm and drew her around to face him with a forceful yank.
“Were you still so angry with me you’d risk running from me again? I thought the matter settled between us.” He had slept no better than she the previous night, and swore bitterly at her before he continued his hostile interrogation. “Did you think me so taken with your charms I’d not beat you as I would any slave for trying to escape me?” Before she could reply he caught a glimpse of the gleaming sword in her hand and lost his temper completely. “That you had the audacity to steal my sword is even worse! Whom did you expect to kill?”
She backed away, repelled by the menacing gleam in his amber eyes. She had been so involved in her own plans to win her freedom that she could offer no other excuse for her actions now. “Your own words tell my story, Mylan. After all we have shared you still think of me as your property, as no more than a slave, and accuse me of theft as well as running away when I’m guilty of neither crime. You gave me only one hope of winning my freedom and I took it. I have slain your bear, he lies dead in his den, and since I must drag him outside to skin him, I will need your help to take the pelt home as the proof you demanded.”
“What?” He was shocked to his very marrow by the calmness of her manner, as well as by her outrageous explanation. He had thought she had run off simply to punish him for walking out on her, but that she had had such an impossible although noble purpose stunned him. “How could you have killed that bear all by yourself? Why would you have attempted such an impossible feat?”
“It was not impossible because I did it, I tell you. Come with me and you will be able to see for yourself.” She reached out to take his hand, but he drew back as if her touch disgusted him.
Alarmed, he continued in an accusing tone, “If you have only wounded the beast, no one will be safe in this forest.”
She shook her head impatiently. “No, the bear is dead, he has to be.” She described what she had done, but the astonished Viking could only gape as he listened, too amazed to
comment upon her outlandish scheme to trick the bear from his lair and attack him before he had an opportunity to harm her. Her bloodstained garments gave proof to her words, however.
“Celiese, I was only teasing you when I told you to bring me the hide of that animal. I never expected you really to try to kill the beast single-handedly.” He was horrified to think his playful jest had led her on so perilous a path.
Straightening her shoulders defiantly, she argued her cause. “You said I would be free if I killed the bear and brought you the proof of the deed. Don’t think you can go back on your word now, because I insist you honor your promise.” Her green eyes blazed with angry sparks. She would stop at nothing to win her freedom, and her determination showed clearly in her proud posture and furious gaze.
His expression grew harsh, for no man would dare insult him as she just had. “My word is good, but I do not believe you could have killed that large an animal without help. You probably only wounded him, and he’ll be roaming the woods insane with pain and ready to kill anything he sees move. You should never have gone out to hunt that brute alone, but let us see what we can do now to rid the forest of his presence for all time. Let me lead the way while you keep your place behind me where you belong.”
He walked slowly, carefully scanning the surrounding brush for places the bear might hide. When they reached the cave he saw the remains of the fire, then the pool of blood drying in the dirt, and turned to stare at his smiling companion. Still unconvinced, he knelt down to study the tracks at the mouth of the cave, then without speaking rose to his feet and pointed, for it was clear the bear had left his den and wandered out toward the clump of bushes to their left.
Celiese shook her head in disbelief, but the tracks were unmistakable. “I was positive he was dead. I struck him before dawn, how can he still be alive?”
Her question ended in an ear-splitting shriek as the ferocious bear rose from behind the underbrush with a terrifying growl. His long, sharp claws flashed in the sunlight with the deadly gleam of highly polished steel, and his teeth gnashed wickedly, slicing through the air as he lunged for them. Mylan’s magnificent sword shook in her grasp, but Celiese raised it with both hands, pushing her fear aside as she summoned the strength to swing the weapon.
With a hoarse shout Mylan shoved the frightened woman aside, and hurled his spear with such brutal force that the blade sliced clear through the beast’s chest, instantly stilling the beat of his mighty heart. The animal was so close the Viking had to leap out of the way as the beast fell with a thunderous crash that shook the ground and sent every bird within miles soaring into the air screeching a piercing cry of alarm.
Satisfied their prey was now thoroughly deceased, Mylan placed his foot upon the bear’s chest and withdrew his spear with a contemptuous yank. He forced away the nausea filling his throat, but had he been alone he would have given in to it gladly. Sickened by the sight of the animal that had caused him so much pain, the beast’s death did not begin to even the score between them.
Celiese stared at the fallen bear, devastated to think there was now no way for her to gain her freedom. But perhaps there never had been. Turning to Mylan she said in a threatening whisper, “I thought I had done it. I thought I’d killed that horrible creature so you would set me free, but it was no more than a cruel joke to you, wasn’t it? You never meant to give me my freedom. All you thought of was how you were going to punish me for running away, when I cannot believe you would think for a moment I’d ever wish to leave you.”
Ignoring her impertinent question, he held out his hand: “That is my knife you have at your belt, and if you will give it to me I will use it. I’ll take the flint as well. You are never to touch my sword ever again for any purpose. Now cease your tiresome complaining and help me to skin this beast. It matters not which of us killed himâthe job must still be done.”
He took the dagger and worked swiftly to slit the hide down the length of the bear’s underside before he sat back to stare at the deep wound in the animal’s neck. “This would have surely killed him, Celiese, he would have bled to death before much longer. I’m certain of it.”
She disagreed angrily. “You killed the beast, he was your bear all along, and the kill is rightfully yours to claim.”
Mylan frowned as he glanced up at her, but did not argue the point as he continued to work rapidly, his task a most distasteful one. When finally he completed the messy job he rolled up the pelt and handed Celiese his spear to carry home. “We’ll leave the carcass for the scavengers of the forest to consume. I’d choke if I tried to eat one bite of that wretched animal’s flesh.” He led the way out of the woods without once becoming lost, but he remained silent as they walked toward his home, his mood no happier than hers. When they crossed the stream near his house they saw Hagen’s horse tethered outside. He dropped the bloody pelt, and he called to Celiese to hurry.
Hearing his elder brother’s approach, Hagen stepped outside to greet him. That Mylan looked so strong and fit delighted him, and he embraced him with a loud whoop of joy. They hugged and talked excitedly, for it had been many weeks since anyone had seen Mylan, and Hagen had much to relate. Having no wish to intrude upon their happiness, Celiese slipped away unnoticed.
She walked slowly back to the stream where she cleaned their bloodstained weapons, but not knowing how long the brothers would spend talking she dared not disrobe to bathe and had to be content to wash only her hands and face for the time being. She strolled slowly back to the house and waited outside; as she felt so utterly defeated and hopeless she knew she would be a poor companion for the two men.
When they at last came outdoors, Mylan drew Celiese aside, placing his hands firmly upon her shoulders as he spoke. “I am a man of my word, and you are free. I’m sending you home with my brother. Olgrethe will welcome you, and none will dare to mistreat you now that you are no longer a slave.”
Unable to comprehend his decision, her astonished gaze swept the stern set of Mylan’s features. “But I failed, Mylan, you are the one who killed the bear!”
Stepping back, he dropped his hands wearily to his sides. “I did not realize you would gladly risk death rather than remain with me. I’ve no desire to debate the question of whose blow killed that beast when all that matters is the fact that I’ve set you free.” Calling to his brother to make his point clear, he shouted, “Take her and be gone, Hagen, I want only to enjoy the solitude of the forest as I did before she came.” He stepped quickly into his house, and slammed the door shut with an angry thud to emphasize the finality of his rejection.
For a moment Celiese was too stunned to move, but when Hagen came forward, reaching for her waist to drag her away, she fought him so fiercely he could not hold her. Slipping from his grasp, she darted through the door before he could stop her. Without stopping to catch her breath she began to scream at Mylan, “I’ll not leave you, I won’t go! Why do you want to send me away, why?”
The tall man turned his back on her as he sneered, “I am sick of your lies, Celiese, now leave me be and go.”
“Do not accuse me of lying, for I have never spoken anything but the truth to you.” She had not lied to him, truly she had not; she had pretended at first to be someone other than herself, but even then she had always told him the truth. When she reached out to touch his arm he drew away, then, turning back to face her, he pulled his bloodstained tunic off over his head and threw it at her feet. He ran his thumb down the scars that crossed his lean torso and snarled, “Tell me again you find me handsome, when all along you have thought me so hideously scarred you wanted only to be free. To be free of me is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“No!” she shouted, the fury of her temper matching the fire of his. “That is not at all what I wanted! My pride is as great as yours, I know, but I cannot bear for you to believe I don’t want to be with you. To me you are the handsomest of men and always will be. Try to understand I could not stand to be any man’s slave, and I have never felt like you
rs, although you’ve spoken the word to me often enough. I wanted my freedom, so you would finally see me for the woman I am, a woman who would rather die than give birth to babies whose only future would be the degradation of slavery. That is a fate I’ll not accept for our children, not for your sons and mine!”
She heard the door open and spun around, ready to fight off Hagen again, but it was Mylan who surprised her by coming forward to gather her up into his arms.
“I told you to take this woman and be gone!” Mylan carried her through the door, waited for Hagen to mount his horse, and then thrust the disheveled young woman into his brother’s arms. “Knock her senseless if you must, but take her away!”
“No!” Celiese pounded her fists on Hagen’s hands, furious that she was being treated so meanly. “I’ll not leave you, Mylan, I won’t go!”
Mylan reached out to grip her knee tightly, inflicting a sharp pain that finally stilled her hoarse shouts. “I wanted only the company of a pretty slave, Celiese, just a young woman who would serve all my needs, but I was foolish to bring you rather than one of the others. You should thank me for being so generous as to set you free, for I’d sell you tomorrow if I hadn’t!” He turned then and walked back into his house, leaving her too shocked by the hatred in his insult to struggle or argue as Hagen tightened his hold around her waist. And seeing she had ceased to fight him, he struck his mount sharply with his heels and carried her swiftly away.
Chapter 13
As they sped toward his home, Hagen’s grasp was so confining Celiese made no effort to struggle against him. She was too shocked by Mylan’s bitter farewell to notice mere physical discomfort and did not complain at the harshness of his brother’s embrace during the long, miserable ride. But as they neared his home she recalled how he had once thrown her from his horse, rudely tossing her in the dirt at his mother’s feet. Wishing to avoid another such clumsy arrival at the Vandahl residence, she wound her fingers in his mount’s mane to prevent such a fall. But when Hagen began to laugh at that precaution she turned to look up at him, wondering what he found so amusing.
