"You believed her?" Inwardly shaken by the slave woman's emphatic pronouncement, Rurik nonetheless hardened his heart. It seemed that he and Arne hadn't been the only ones tricked by Zora's guile. "She deceived you once before, Nellwyn, the night of the fire. Now she's deceived you again."
"No, she hasn't, my lord, and I would swear to it! If she didn't care about you, she would have slept through the night like a babe, knowing that in the morning she would escape from you. But she didn't sleep at all because she was waiting up for you, waiting and worrying about the coming battle and what might happen to you. Aye, if she did anything today, maybe in her mind it was to help you."
"What are you saying, Nellwyn? That my wife fled the city because she thought by doing so she could somehow protect me? She's gone to Chernigov, while the battle most likely will be fought to the north. What good can she do me?"
"Perhaps more than she could have done here in Novgorod—"
"Enough!" As Rurik's harsh command echoed around them, Nellwyn's green eyes widened with alarm. "Leave me, woman, and take your fanciful theories of my wife's actions with you! You've already overstepped your bounds."
He turned from her and took a draft of wine, expecting to hear the door close behind her. But when he looked over his shoulder, Nellwyn was still there, standing her ground, her hands propped at her thickened waist and her chin raised stubbornly in a manner that reminded him all too much of Zora.
"You may punish me for this, my lord, but I will have my say! Your lady confided much in me and from what I have heard, I believe you love her as she loves you. Yet you're so willing to think the worst of her, to let your past rule your heart instead of what you can see and feel, that perhaps you don't deserve her love! Why dare to trust, why dare to put faith in another when it is so much easier not to?"
The room went silent for a long moment, Nellwyn's outburst striking Rurik more deeply than he would ever admit. Yet as deeply felt was his hurt and when he finally faced her, his voice was low with warning.
"Are you finished?"
"Aye."
"Then you hear me. What I see is that my wife is not with me and what I feel is that I am a fool. Now leave me, woman!"
Nellwyn did this time, hastening from the room while Rurik stood there, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. As the door shut with a thud, he hurled the jug with all his might at the wall, dashing it to splinters.
Chapter 27
Zora had never known a more miserable five days in her life, her heartsickness growing. Already they had passed one portage and were nearing the second, their rapid progress due to favorable winds and that Ivan and his men never seemed to rest, rowing like demons whenever the sails slackened.
The boat was longer, too, and not as wide as the one Rurik had commanded, which to Zora now seemed like months ago; it cut through the water like a serpent. The only good thing was that Ivan had left her alone, she sensed as much because she disgusted him in her present state as his concentration was fixed upon getting them to Chernigov as quickly as possible.
She had overheard him talking with his men about the scores of warships they had seen in Novgorod docked north of the bridge, and the flurry of preparations that meant that Grand Prince Yaroslav's forces would soon be setting sail. She hoped with all her heart that they had left by now, and that those fearsome ships that she had also glimpsed from the market might overtake this smaller boat. She imagined that was Ivan's fear since he spent much of his time in the stern, scanning the distance for any sign of approaching sails.
"All right, men, let's waste no time!" came Ivan's impatient command outside the tent, telling Zora that they had reached the second portage. Yet she didn't move from her pallet, staring at the bucket that was never far from her side.
At the first portage she had ventured outside to watch them hoist the vessel onto the log rollers, but seeing the woods again where Kjell had lost his life had been so painful that she had quickly retreated to the tent. She had been frightened, too, wondering if another band of marauders might be lurking nearby, looking to prey on passing ships.
That was reason enough why she had made no escape attempts. She had no wish to relive that harrowing experience. Nor had she considered jumping overboard. Her single swimming lesson had hardly left her with the skills to tackle a river's powerful currents, and the thought that the water would be many times over her head—
Zora shuddered. As she felt the boat being lifted from the water followed by a jarring thunk as it was settled upon the logs, her mind raced ahead to when they would leave the river behind to cross overland to Chernigov.
Then she would attempt to escape, for she had no intention of returning to her father's city with Ivan. She would take refuge at a church or with a peasant family and wait for Grand Prince Yaroslav's forces to march past, then find Rurik. He would probably want to send her back to Novgorod, but maybe he might keep her with him. She could hope . . .
"That's it, men, we're almost there, now ease her back into the— By God, men, draw your arms! Behind you! Look behind you!"
Zora sat bolt upright, her hand flying to her breast as a horrifying shriek split the air, then another. It sounded as if the hounds of hell had been loosed upon them. She had never heard such a terrible wolfish howling, which almost drowned out the telltale clashing of swords.
Holy Mother protect them, they were under attack! Yet the boat was still moving and she realized it must have already been shoved back into the water. Had Ivan or any of his men made it aboard?
She screamed when an arrow suddenly came splicing through the tent wall to embed in the bucket, and she hesitated no more. Dashing outside, she somehow retained the presence of mind to keep her head down, and peering over the railing, she thought she was going to be sick all over herself.
Ivan and what was left of his men were surrounded by a horde of yowling attackers, outnumbered by more than four to one. As swords and battleaxes flashed in the waning sunlight, another of his warriors falling in a spray of blood, Zora saw Ivan glance toward the drifting boat as if he was searching for her. Then he suddenly collapsed to his knees, an axe blow felling him from behind. Zora closed her eyes, unable to watch anymore.
"Oh, God . . ." she breathed, having no idea what she should do. "Oh, God, please help me. . ."
Wild, triumphant shouts caused her to lift her head and she gazed in horror at the grisly dance upon the shore. Dismembered arms and legs were being paraded upon spears like trophies, then a severed head was tossed from one sword onto another . . . a head with dark brown hair just like Ivan's—
"No . . . oh, no," she murmured, fear tightening like cold fingers around her throat. She watched in disbelief as ten or twelve marauders broke away from the group and began to run along the riverbank . . . running hard as if they wanted to catch up with the boat that Zora realized to her mounting horror was drifting back toward their side of the shore.
It was the shock she needed. Scrambling on hands and knees to the other side of the boat, Zora ripped her tunic from hem to thigh with hands shaking so badly that she could barely use them. Then, taking care to use the tent as cover, she climbed over the railing at a point where she hoped they couldn't see her and eased herself into the water.
It was so cold and deep, her fear almost overwhelmed her, but hearing the attackers' raucous shouts growing louder and their splashing as they rushed into the river, she willed herself to let go. As the boat floated away from her, she drew as much air into her lungs as she could hold and then dived beneath the surface, using her arms and legs as Rurik had taught her to propel herself downstream.
Fortunately, the currents were strong and that aided her efforts, and swimming until she was sure her lungs were going to burst, she finally came up for air. To her relief, the marauders looked like little figures upon the distant shoreline, they were that far away. Filling her lungs again, she lowered her head beneath the surface and let the currents carry her farther away.
Dusk had fallen by the time
Zora dared to consider stopping but she pushed herself onward, sometimes floating on her back to save her strength. She didn't head for the opposite shoreline until it was pitch-dark. With her exhaustion so intense that she feared she might drown before she got there, only by sheer force of will was she able to keep herself calm and her arms and legs moving.
When her feet touched bottom she began to weep with relief, and pulling herself from the water, she crawled into the deep grass and collapsed. She was so weak that her sobs were no more than whimpers, and soon even these grew silent as she closed her eyes against the starry sky.
***
"The princess, my lord?"
"Aye, I met her only once but you never forget such a face. No wonder my son was willing to risk his life for her, and Rurik Sigurdson to give up his vow and marry her. It's a good thing she didn't crawl so far into the grass that we would have missed her."
"A good thing, too, that we found her before whoever it was that slaughtered those poor bastards upstream."
"Aye, wandering thieves, most likely. Stripped the dead and the boat, right down to the sails. It's a miracle the wench escaped . . . though she might wish otherwise when she's back with her husband. I've never seen Rurik in so foul a mood as when we sailed from Novgorod."
"That's true enough, my lord, but look, she's waking up."
Zora moaned softly, lifting her hand to shade her eyes from the bright sunlight. Still half in her dream, she could have sworn she had heard someone say Rurik's name, but that couldn't be possible
"Lady Zora?"
She froze, scarcely breathing. Alert now and remembering all too suddenly where she was, the next thing she thought was how absurd that in the middle of nowhere, someone would know her name.
Slowly lowering her hand, she squinted against the light, making out two men who were staring down at her. One she didn't know, but the other . . .
"Oh . . . !" She was swept up into Thordar the Strong's massive arms at almost the same instant she recognized him, her head spinning from the sudden movement. As he turned around, she gaped at the seventy-foot warship moored along the shoreline, fifty armed warriors staring back at her.
"One of my sharp-eyed men spied you lying in the grass," Thordar explained, anticipating her question as he waded into the water. "You're a fortunate young woman to have lived to tell what happened to your friends."
Before Zora could reply, she was lifted into waiting arms and deposited on deck, then Thordar and his companion heaved themselves aboard. As orders were given to lower all oars and push off from the bank, Thordar led her to a rowing bench where he gestured for her to sit. But she remained rooted where she stood, noticing for the first time that farther out in the river another warship was passing them, a long line of ships following as far as she could see.
Grand Prince Yaroslav's army! Surely it couldn't be any later than midmorning, which meant that they had been less than a day's journey behind Ivan's boat, probably advancing upon them with each mile. If only they had come faster, Ivan and his men might still be alive—
So he could then fight Rurik to the death? Zora remembered, shivering. She would never have wished such a violent end upon anyone, yet she couldn't deny that she was relieved Rurik had one less enemy to face.
She sank upon the bench. Simply recalling the events of the past day made her knees feel weak. Or was it because she knew that she would soon see Rurik again?
"Where is my husband?" she asked.
Thordar watched her closely. "Probably not to the second portage. There are many ships, Lady Zora. I'm only glad that we came upon the trail first and buried what was left of the dead. It wouldn't have been a welcome sight for a man anxious about his wife. What happened?"
"We were attacked." Zora shuddered, finding it difficult even to speak about it. "When they were pushing the boat back into the water. If I hadn't been on board . . ."
She couldn't finish, her memories still horribly vivid of what had almost happened to her during that first attack when Kjell was killed and Rurik had saved her just in time. And here she was talking with Kjell's father! Yet Thordar didn't seem half so forbidding now, despite his shaved scalp and the topknot that lent him the fierce look of a steppe nomad.
"Forgive me," he said, clearly sensing her disquiet. "You owe me no explanations. We'll be stopping in Smolensk within a few hours for food and supplies. You'll have to wait for your husband's ship, but you'll be reunited with him there."
Mere hours! Zora could hardly believe it. Yet she felt a sudden surge of nervousness. She could imagine too well what Rurik must think of her, and there was only one thing she could do to remedy it. Surely he would believe her. He had to!
"You have my thanks, Lord Thordar," Zora said softly, his eyes at this moment reminding her so much of Kjell's. "I speak also for my husband."
"For your sake, I hope that is true," the warrior answered. Heaving a sigh, he walked away.
***
"She awaits you in that storehouse, Rurik. And now since my ships are loaded, my forces must sail. We'll meet again in Liubech."
Rurik nodded at Thordar, his throat so tight that he could scarcely bring himself to speak. He had never known such a moment as when the warrior had met his ship to tell him that Zora was found, and what had happened to the men who had helped her escape. He knew, too, that they hadn't been monks but fighting men, giving rise to more questions for which he would soon demand answers.
"She wanted to wait for you on the wharf," added Thordar as he turned to go, "but I thought it better this way . . ."
"So you were right," Rurik gritted out, looking from the nearby door to the warrior's somber face. "My thanks, friend." They clasped wrists and then Thordar was gone, striding back to the docks where at least fifty warships were moored.
Still more vessels were arriving at the crowded wharf while others, loaded with fresh cooked meat and supplies, were heading downriver on the second leg of their journey, no longer in single formation but four or five abreast upon the great Dnieper River. Soon Rurik's six ships would be loaded and ready to sail, but first he must attend to Zora. With his jaw clenched so hard that it hurt, he opened the door to the storehouse and stepped inside, grimacing at the acrid smell of pickling brine.
It took him an instant to adjust to the hazy lamplight. He spied her sitting upon a barrel, her eyes as wide as he had ever seen them, her hands clasped nervously in her lap. His relief was stabbing and immediate, yet he forced himself to think not of how close he had come to losing her but of how she had betrayed him.
"Thordar told me what little you shared with him, wife," he said tersely, wasting no time on a greeting. "Now I want your explanation."
Zora shivered, Rurik's tone as cold and forbidding as his gaze. It was just as bad as she had feared, maybe worse. She rose, her legs half asleep from sitting so long, and nervously smoothed the linen tunic Thordar had bought for her.
"I—I know what you must be thinking, Rurik . . . that I purposely deceived you, but it's not as it may seem. If it hadn't been for the lies Ivan told me—"
"Ivan? Your betrothed?"
Rurik had interrupted her so harshly that Zora felt as if her heart had leapt to pound in her throat.
"Y-yes. He and eight of his men came disguised as monks to rescue me. He found me in the market and convinced me to leave with him—"
"Convinced you?" Rurik cut in again, his fury boiling all the hotter. How quickly and expertly she was spinning her tale, no doubt fearing his wrath as well she should! "I imagine that you rejoiced at the chance, Princess."
"No, that's not true!" she blurted, taking a few steps toward him. "I told Ivan that I wanted to stay with you, but he said that if I went with him I would be able to plead for your life if you were captured in battle. I was so worried about you, Rurik, and . . . and it made sense. I couldn't have done anything to help you if I had stayed in Novgorod! It was only later when Ivan admitted he had lied to me, that he planned to kill you . . ." She stopped, her
expression stricken. "You don't believe me, do you?"
"That it was Ivan, yes, for Thordar told me the dead men had not been clergy, but warriors," Rurik replied, steeling his heart against her no matter that her words echoed what Nellwyn had told him days ago. There could be an explanation easily enough for that. Leave it to his cunning wife to fill her slave woman's head with the same lies just to add credence to her tale!
"But what of the rest?" she asked plaintively. "I swear on my life that it is true."
"You also swore to me once that you wouldn't stop trying to escape until you were free of me." Rurik's bitterness almost choked him.
"That was weeks ago!" she countered, her eyes pleading with him. "How could I have said anything different? I didn't know you for the man that you are. I didn't love you then, but I love you now, Rurik! I love you!"
Rurik suddenly felt as if everything had gone very still inside him, what he had yearned for so long to hear ringing in his ears. By Odin, he wanted to believe her, yet how could he? She had left him!
"I was going to tell you in the market," Zora rushed on, hope flaring that she might have finally reached him. "I thought you might come there to meet me. I wanted so much to prove to you that you could trust me, Rurik, and then Ivan—"
"Persuaded you within a moment's time to leave your beloved home and husband," he interrupted sarcastically, his expression as hard as granite. "Spare me your woman's ploy, Zora. If you love anything, it was only the thought of freedom. And don't tell me next that you're not grieving for Ivan, because I don't want to hear it."
"I'm not grieving!" Desperation seized Zora as she moved closer. "How could I mourn someone who wanted to kill the man I love? Who threatened to drown my baby at the moment of its birth?"
Stunned, Rurik stared at her. "A babe?"
"Yes. I didn't realize it until I became sick on the river. I was miserable."
"I imagine you were," Rurik muttered though deeply shaken. Days ago, such news might have completed his happiness, but now it only heightened his pain. "You must have been wretched knowing you carried my child, not only for your sake but for Ivan's."
The Pagan's Prize Page 27
