At least his destrier had proven to be more manageable than its owner. Ildfast responded well to her firm hand on his reins, carrying her swiftly down into the vale and across a rolling meadow. The wind caught at her braid and her skirts as she rode, the air thick with the scents of foliage and flowers in bloom. All around her, the sun blazed over tall grasses that danced in the wind.
The village that lay ahead had been built on a green, fertile plain, between the ocean on one side and a small range of mountains on the other. She could just discern the outline of the craggy peaks in the distance.
She might have called this place beautiful, Avril thought grudgingly, were she a willing visitor.
She slowed the destrier to a trot as she drew near the town, which was much larger than it had seemed from a distance last night. From here she could see scores of rooftops, large and small, of wood or thatch or stone. One odd fact made her brow furrow in puzzlement: There were no walls around this village. No towers, no gates, no defensive barriers of any kind. Not so much as a single sentry on patrol.
Her heart thudded. These people would not leave their homes so vulnerable to attack—unless they trusted that the cliffs and the rocky coast and the fog truly made it impossible for anyone to invade their island.
Or for anyone to escape.
The destrier’s hooves clattered on flat, smooth cobbles that paved a wide street as she entered the town’s outskirts. People bustled about their daily tasks—men, women, children. The air buzzed with dozens of conversations in that incomprehensible Norse tongue. Two boys of about fifteen walked by with fishing poles over their shoulders. Housewives leaned on windowsills, chatting with friends. A blacksmith’s hammer rang out on an anvil. A dog yapped at a squawking gaggle of geese.
Glancing around, Avril felt astonished. After being surrounded by a brawny sea of muscular Vikings last night, she had not expected to find the town so peaceful, so... normal. One by one, every head turned her way, and people slowly set aside their baskets and bundles and tools and pitchforks and stared at her.
Avril’s pounding heart seemed to fill her throat. For an instant, she regretted leaving behind the brooch Hauk had pinned to her last night. She refused to wear a badge of ownership that marked her as his.
But how would these people receive a strange woman in their midst? Especially when she looked a sight, as Avril knew she must, with her hair all askew and her gown stained with perspiration and dirt from her long ride. Might they be unpleasant, even hostile?
Several in the crowd started animated conversations with their fellows, gesturing at her and speaking quickly. Everyone gazed up at her with expressions of amazement and avid curiosity.
Then a few began to smile. Some called out what sounded like greetings.
And they all quickly left their work behind to gather around her, bowing or inclining their heads. Avril’s hand tightened on the reins and she drew the stallion up short, startled by the gestures of respect.
Ildfast tossed his head and she abruptly remembered that she was riding Hauk’s stallion. And from what little he had told her, he held a position of some importance among these people.
Apparently his wife—or rather, the woman they believed to be his wife—was due a certain amount of honor.
“Good... good day to you,” she said uncertainly, wishing more than ever that she knew a word or two of their tongue. Her whole life, she had been enamored of languages. Words in all their vivid colors fascinated her the way that spices in a kitchen fascinated other women. But now when she needed the skill most, it availed her naught. “Do any of you speak French?”
She doubted they could even hear her over the din. Her arrival was creating quite a commotion. Dozens more people came out of their dwellings to take a look at her. Before she knew what was happening, someone thrust a bouquet of flowers into her hands. Then a basket full of fruit.
“Wait... nay... I do not want any gifts. I need to find my friend. I—”
Ildfast snorted and reared skittishly. One of the men took hold of the reins to calm him. Someone else tucked a flower into his bridle. Before Avril or her horse could protest further, they were being led through the town in a festive procession. Someone started to sing a song.
“Wait, wait,” Avril cried, baffled at the way these people seemed so overjoyed to meet her. “I do not have time for this. Please, I must find my friend Josette—”
“Avril!”
Avril turned to see Josette pushing her way through the throng. “Oh, thank God!” She slipped from Ildfast’s back, thrust her armful of goods toward the nearest happy villager, and rushed into her friend’s embrace.
Josette wrapped her in a fierce hug. “Avril—”
“Josette, sweet mercy, are you all right?” Avril stepped back to hold her at arm’s length, breathless with relief to find her safe. “Hauk told me that you would not be harmed, but I was not certain I could believe—”
“Do not worry over me, Avril. I am fine. It was you I was concerned about. After breakfast this morn, Keldan and I stopped by your vaningshus—”
“Who? My what?”
“Vaningshus. That is their word for these odd dwellings of theirs.” She indicated the homes along the street, most built in the same style as Hauk’s: long structures made of stone, with roofs covered in thatch or overlapping squares of tree bark.
“And who is Keldan?”
“That is his name.” She indicated the tall, dark-haired man who elbowed his way through the crowd until he stood at her side—the man who had “married” her in last night’s ceremony.
“He speaks only a few words of French,” Josette continued, hooking an arm through Avril’s and leading her down the street. Some of the festive crowd followed along, one of them bringing Ildfast. “I cannot understand most of what he says, but he has been quite kind.”
“Josette, he abducted you.” Avril bestowed a frown upon her friend’s grinning captor. “That is hardly kind.”
“Aye, of course, you are right,” Josette corrected herself, a hint of color in her cheeks. “But... he has been most chivalrous. And today Keldan has been showing me the town.”
“Keldan has been showing you the town,” Avril echoed, surprised and a little concerned at the way her friend seemed so charmed by her handsome companion.
“Aye, and when we stopped by your vaningshus—he has also been teaching me a few words—you were not there.”
“I was out riding.”
Josette nodded. “I thought you might be exploring.” She glanced at the man beside her, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “Have you found a way for us to escape?”
Avril hesitated. She had worried about frightening her friend with this news—but Josette seemed anything but frightened. And she needed to understand the situation. “Josette, from what I saw of the island, I do not think Gaston and his men will be able to help us. I think... I think we must depend on ourselves.”
“Well, you will think of something. I know you will.”
Before Avril could explain about Asgard’s lack of boats, Keldan interrupted.
“Come see,” he said in heavily accented French, taking Josette’s elbow and gesturing down a side street. “Good place. Come see.”
“He wants to show us something.” Avril regarded him warily.
“Aye.” Josette exchanged a look with her, then shrugged. “I do not think any harm will come of it, do you? This truly is the prettiest town I have ever seen. It rather reminds me of some of the villages in Brittany.”
“It does that,” Avril admitted reluctantly, thinking of the rugged coast and lush, green land dotted with sleepy villages. “Except that Brittany is not this warm.”
“True.” Josette turned her face up to the sun, closing her eyes and sighing in a way that made Avril feel decidedly uneasy. “Nor is it this wealthy.”
Avril kept a firm hold on her friend’s arm as Keldan led them down the side street. She noted that this was indeed a most prosperous hamlet—the cobble
d streets neatly swept, the people dressed in fine, embroidered garments with gold and silver fastenings. Some of the dwellings had their shutters open to the ocean breeze, and she could see families at work and play within, amid polished furnishings and vivid tapestries.
The merry revelers following at their heels attracted a great deal of attention, and at every turn, more inhabitants came out to greet them with what seemed like genuine warmth, their eyes curious and their gifts plentiful—especially those they presented to Avril.
She finally gave up trying to decline. What had started with a bouquet of flowers and some fruit soon turned into a flood of foodstuffs, necklaces of sparkling beads, clothing, perfumes, lace, jewelry. When it all became too much for poor Ildfast to carry, someone fetched a cart.
As they walked on, Avril noted that hunger did not seem to be any problem here. They passed by many animals in pens: flocks of chickens and ducks, shaggy-looking brown sheep that sported huge, curling horns, and a herd of... She blinked as they walked by that particular pen, staring at the creatures with placid faces and broad, felted horns. “Josette, is the sun playing tricks on my eyes, or are those—”
“Reindeer.” Josette nodded. “Apparently they raise them for both meat and milk. I had some of the milk at breakfast, and it is very sweet—”
“But reindeer are usually found only in the North.” Avril’s heart thudded. “Judging by the weather, I thought this island was located in the South or East.”
“Mayhap you guessed wrong.”
“Oh, Josette,” Avril said mournfully. “I do not have the first idea where we are.”
“Do not despair. After walking about today, I have guessed something that might be useful to us.” Josette lowered her voice again. “I think these people may be Vikings.”
“Aye.” Avril tried to keep the frustration from her voice. “Indeed they are. Hauk admitted it to me last night. They have been living here for centuries in hiding—and they are determined to keep this place secret. That is why they will not let us leave.”
“Oh.”
They fell silent as they followed Keldan into another part of town, one that played host to many flourishing craftsmen. As they walked along the rows of shops, Avril could recognize some from the implements hanging outside or the goods displayed in windows fitted with glass: jewelers, goldsmiths, a baker, a weaver, a tanner.
Keldan opened the door to one of the shops, and they left their flock of jolly followers behind. One of the townspeople tied Ildfast’s reins to a tall post carved in the shape of some sort of mythical wood sprite.
“Like here?” Keldan asked in mangled French as he ushered them both inside and closed the door. “People nice here,” he said with an enthusiastic, hopeful smile.
“Aye, they are,” Avril admitted, plucking a stray flower from her hair. She sneezed on sawdust. Keldan had found them refuge in an unoccupied carpenter’s shop.
The scents of oil and fresh-cut pine stacked along the walls filled the air. Pieces of furniture in various stages of completion sat on counters and tabletops, and woodworking tools hung from the ceiling, glinting in the afternoon sun that poured through the glass windows.
“Indeed, your people seem very nice,” Josette said politely. “But you must let us go home. We cannot stay here. Do you understand? We must return to France.”
“France, France, France.” He sighed as if tired of hearing that word, nodded to indicate he understood what she meant when she said it. “Why?”
Josette frowned. “What an odd question. Because it is our home, of course—”
“Because you cannot simply go about kidnapping people and expect them to be happy about it,” Avril grumbled.
“And because Avril has a daughter at home,” Josette continued, “and as I told your friend last night, the poor child will be an orphan if—”
“What?” Avril sputtered. “What did you say to Hauk?”
“I...” Josette coughed nervously and glanced away. “I was going to mention this to you. But I was not sure whether you—”
“What did you tell him?”
“Oh, Avril, you must forgive me. I was only trying to help! I told him the truth about Gerard. I thought if he knew that Giselle’s father was dead, it might soften his heart and persuade him to set you free—”
“Josette, how could you?” Avril cried. “Now he knows that I was lying to him. I already tried to soften his heart and I failed.”
“I am sorry.” Josette dusted off a chair and sank down on it.
“Saints’ breath, Josette, we have to help each other, not...” Avril lifted both hands and let them drop back to her sides, feeling even more frustrated and helpless than before. Turning away, she stared out the window. “I do not suppose it matters now. I had hoped he might trust me enough to set me free, but he will never trust me.” She shut her eyes. “And these men have no intention of setting us free.”
An uncomfortable silence descended. Keldan disappeared into the back of the shop and came back a moment later. Avril turned just in time to watch him place a delicate, beautifully carved chair in front of Josette, with obvious pride. Josette gasped.
“What?” Avril muttered in confusion. “What is it?”
“Did you make this?” Josette asked him. “You are a carpenter?”
He pointed from himself, to the shop, and then to the chair, nodding.
“Oh, my oath.” Josette glanced at Avril. “This matches a chair he gave me last night. I... I smashed it against the wall.”
“You smashed a chair against a wall?”
“I was very angry. And I had no idea he had made it for me. Oh, now I feel terrible.”
“You have no reason to feel terrible,” Avril pointed out. “This man abducted you. He brought you here against your will. He is your captor. He is...”
Her friend was not listening. She was looking up at Keldan, smiling shyly. “Thank you.”
“Josette,” Avril said in exasperation. “Do you hear what you are saying? You cannot accept that. We do not want gifts from these people. We want our freedom. We want to escape.”
Josette glanced from her to Keldan and back again. “I am sorry. You are right. It is just... it is rather hard for me to remember to be angry with people who are so kind.” She dropped her gaze to the sawdust-covered floor. “And this place is so lovely. The weather is perfect, the food abundant. And it seems so peaceful. Have you noticed?”
“Aye.” Avril turned to look out the window again, studying the people gathered in the street. “Everyone seems happy and healthy—” Another quality they all seemed to have in common caught her attention. “And young. Josette, I do not see anyone beyond... two score years, at the most. Even the elders we saw last night did not look especially old.” She turned to study Keldan.
He stood watching them with that hopeful, warm expression, his attention on Josette.
Avril guessed him to be about thirty. The same age as Hauk.
“Something is not right here,” she said uneasily, glancing out at the street again. She could see people of her own age, and younger, and a few women who seemed to be in their middle years, with wrinkles etched by time and gray in their hair. But most of Asgard’s inhabitants were surprisingly youthful. “What do they do with all their older people? And if everyone is so healthy and happy on this island, why abduct us? Why have they brought us here?”
Josette shrugged. “Mayhap they simply want to share this lovely place with others.”
Avril gave her a pained look. “Josette, that is a most charitable thought. But if that were true, kidnapping would not be necessary. An invitation would suffice. And no matter how ‘nice’ this place is, I will never accept being held captive.” Facing the window, she folded her arms. “I must return home to Giselle. I will not let anyone or anything keep me from her.”
“I am sorry, Avril. Of course, you are right.” Josette rose to stand beside her. “But how are we to escape? We are in the middle of the ocean somewhere. We do not even know
in which direction home lies—”
“We are not going to let that stop us. We grew up in Brittany, after all. On the seashore. We know a brace from a bowline and a cog from a clinker. We might even...” Avril hesitated, looking over at Keldan, but he clearly could not follow what they were saying. “We might even be able to build some kind of seaworthy craft, somewhere in secret.” She glanced at the ceiling. “With the right tools.”
“Mayhap some of the other captives will want to join us,” Josette said uncertainly.
“Aye. That is a good idea. If we all work together, we can succeed.” She touched Josette’s arm. “I will need your help, Josette.”
Josette looked from her to Keldan and back again before she said, softly, “Of course I will help.”
“Thank you.” Avril hugged her. “I believe I have an ideal task for you. We will need information about where this island is located. How far it is back to the continent, and in which direction we must sail to get home. Since you and he”— she gave Keldan a smile—”are on somewhat cordial terms, you may have the best chance of finding out what we need to know.”
“I will try.”
“Good. I know you can do it, Josette.” Avril felt her spirits lift for the first time all day. “Now, I think I will go and try to find some of the other captives. You stay here with your carpenter and seek information. Try to be subtle.”
“That should be easy, since we each hardly understand a word the other is saying.”
“Just be careful, Josette.” Avril waved farewell to Keldan and headed for the door, leaving her friend to consort with the enemy.
Hoping Josette would not forget that he was, in fact, the enemy.
Chapter 8
Rain pattered against the shutters of Hauk’s keep, a steady downpour that had started before daybreak and only strengthened as the hours slipped past. Sighing in frustration, Avril stood at an open window, gazing up at the gray clouds that blotted out the afternoon sun. Thunder rumbled overhead. Another slash of lightning stabbed at the roiling sea. The storm showed no sign of abating.
His Captive Bride Page 10
