The Pagan's Prize (Captive Brides Collection)

by Miriam Minger

  “It is not for you that I do this!” the concubine cut her off in a bitter rush. “Until you are gone, Lord Rurik will have eyes for no other woman, desire for no other woman—” She stopped abruptly as if she had said too much and shoved Zora from their dark corner. “Go now before your guards grow anxious!”

  Zora wondered about the concubine’s explanation as she hurried to the entrance, for it had made little sense. Since Rurik had admitted that the lovely Khazarian had spent last night in his bed, how could Semirah say that he had no desire for her?

  Zora pretended to straighten her tunic as she stepped outside to find a half-dozen men and a few women waiting to use the privy. It was clear her escorts had refused to let anyone else in. As she smiled an apology, she was immediately flanked by her guards and from the way in which they hustled her toward the hall, one of them even going so far as to grip her elbow, she could tell that the two warriors had grown impatient to get her back to Rurik.

  Yet it seemed that they need not have rushed. Rurik’s attention was focused upon the laughing, mahogany-haired woman ensconced upon his lap who had one arm settled atop his shoulder, her fingers caressing the back of his neck. Other than to cast a brief glance in their direction as Zora and her escorts approached the high seat, he paid them no heed.

  Watching Rurik bring his goblet to the woman’s lips, his answering laughter husky and deep, Zora felt a strange tightness in her breast. She almost screamed in outrage, but she caught herself. She was the princess! She would not be treated lightly.

  Aware that every eye was upon her even though the noisy carousing in the hall had not abated, she stopped in front of the head table and stubbornly waited for Rurik to acknowledge her. She’d be damned if she was going to announce her presence. He knew that she was standing there.

  It wasn’t Rurik who spoke first but Arne, whose light blue eyes surprisingly held the barest glimmer of sympathy.

  “If you’d like, my lady, you may have my seat—”

  “Thank you, Arne, but I’ve had enough revelry for one night. With my husband’s permission, I would like to retire.”

  “Granted.” Rurik’s gruff answer came so swiftly that she started, meeting his eyes. For a man who had just appeared to be having such a pleasant time, why then did his voice have that strange edge to it and his expression seem almost…haunted? “Sleep well, wife.”

  She knew then that she would not be the one sharing his bed that night, and she turned away without saying a word. Now that her chance for escape was so close at hand, she would have to be careful not to rile him. Even though she longed to fling curses at him and sarcastically bid him to sleep well, too, if and when he slept at all.

  At the huge carved doors she met Semirah returning, and the concubine haughtily refused to look at her. How Zora wanted to tell her that she was wrong about Rurik not having eyes for other women! Against her better judgment, she decided to glance over her shoulder. Why, just look at him sitting there like some god with women at his beck and

  “What? Where did she…?” To Zora’s astonishment, Rurik was alone in the high seat and watching her from across the smoky room as a slave poured him another goblet of wine. Feeling a shiver of apprehension mixed with some emotion she could not name, she could not leave fast enough with her guards, praying that Semirah would come for her tonight. Holy Mother Mary, she could hope!

  ***

  But Semirah didn’t come either that night or the next, and thankfully, neither did Rurik.

  Nor did Zora see him during the day whenever she ventured outside to enjoy the sunny June weather and take a break from Nellwyn’s good-humored attempts to teach her how to use a loom, an activity Zora had originally planned to avoid. Yet she found that the lessons helped take her mind from her troubles. She imagined that Rurik must be on the training field with his men for the air was always ringing with the ominous sound of swordplay punctuated by loud thwacks as weapons struck violently against wooden shields.

  Preferring to avoid him, Zora never walked to that side of the compound. The following afternoon, when she did spy him riding toward the main gate with twenty odd warriors, she moved swiftly behind a wagon so he wouldn’t see her despite her guards standing in full view.

  Attributing her thundering pulse to nerves, she did not resume her stroll until she was sure that Rurik and his men had left the compound, a settling cloud of dust the only evidence of their passing.

  “Do you know where my husband is bound?” she asked one of her guards, a lean, lanky warrior who seemed surprised that she had addressed him.

  “Novgorod, my lady, to meet with the grand prince.”

  “But it’s so late in the day. Surely he will not return before dark.”

  The warrior shrugged, his eyes suddenly wary. “I cannot say, my lady.”

  Deciding it was best not to press him further, Zora wondered if Semirah knew that Rurik might be gone for hours. She wished that she could somehow contact her, but that, too, would be unwise. Instead she returned to her longhouse, resigning herself to another long sleepless night of agonizing over whether the concubine would ever come for her.

  “Nellwyn?” she called out when she found the main room empty, the standing loom where the slave woman had been working to unravel the mess Zora had made of her last lesson abandoned. She had gotten so used to having Nellwyn around, enjoying her company and her quips about her husband Vasili, a caretaker in Rurik’s stables, that it felt strange not to see her busy at some task. “Nellwyn?”

  “Aye, in here, my lady.”

  Following the familiar voice into her bedchamber, Zora was surprised to find the slave woman laying out a shimmering white garment on the mattress that was far too sheer for a tunic.

  “One of the seamstresses just brought this for you. Isn’t it lovely? I’ve never seen a sleeping gown so fine.” As Nellwyn straightened, she lifted a delicate sleeve and rubbed it between her fingers. “Hmmm, so silky soft. And just look at how the fabric catches the light! I know Lord Rurik will be pleased when he sees you wearing it tonight.”

  “Tonight?” Zora croaked, her voice gone hoarse.

  Nellwyn turned, her eyes lit with sudden understanding. “Your husband’s summons came while you were out, my lady. You’ll be sharing supper with him when he returns from Novgorod. I’m to see that you are bathed and dressed, then your guards will escort you to Lord Rurik’s longhouse where you will await him.”

  “No…” Zora murmured, barely able to comprehend what Nellwyn had just told her. “He has other women to please him…beautiful, willing women—”

  “From what I have heard, my lady,” Nellwyn interrupted, lowering her voice as if to share a secret, “though it’s only the talk of slaves, Lord Rurik has found no pleasure in his concubines and is sending them untouched and unhappy from his bed. Even that haughty desert witch, Semirah, has failed to please him. If you ask me, I believe he thinks only of you.”

  “No, he thinks only of himself!” Zora countered, even as Semirah’s bitter words of two nights ago came flying back at her to echo what Nellwyn had just said. Dear God, could it be true? Was it possible that Rurik hadn’t made love to any of his women because of her? Didn’t desire his other women because of her?

  Swept by sudden elation, Zora was just as quickly shocked at herself. She could care less about why Rurik might be spurning his concubines! This news changed nothing, but it might explain why Semirah was willing to risk everything to be rid of her. No wonder the concubine resented her.

  Yet if all this was so, why had Rurik gone out of his way to flaunt his women in front of her since she had arrived? He had made it very clear that she meant nothing to him

  A sharp knock sounding upon the outer door caused Zora to start.

  “Easy now, my lady. It’s only the hot water for your bath,” said Nellwyn, taking a moment to pat Zora’s arm reassuringly before hurrying past her. “I’ll have them set the tub near the hearth where it will be nice and warm.”

  Struck ane
w by what such preparations portended, Zora could only nod numbly. Walking over to the bed, she sank down upon it, her fingers brushing against the sleeping gown.

  As if the gossamer fabric had burned her, she snatched her hand away, remembering all too well how miserable she had felt when another garment prepared especially for her had been settled over her head. Her wedding gown, compliments of Lady Ingigerd, who had tried to convince her that Rurik had accepted her for his bride for no other reason than that he wanted her…

  “Princess Zora, come quickly!”

  “Semirah?” Zora vaulted from the bed and after shutting the door against the commotion of slaves preparing her bath in the next room, she rushed to the window and yanked aside the fur covering to find the concubine gripping the sill. “What are you doing? Where’s the guard?”

  “Talking with the others! Now hear me! I will come for you at dusk. Be ready!”

  Semirah was gone before Zora could reply and she whirled from the window, her heart in her throat, as Nellwyn rapped upon the door.

  “Shall I help you disrobe, my lady? Your bath is waiting.”

  Zora had to fight to keep her voice calm. “No, thank you, Nellwyn, I can manage. I’ll be out in a moment.” Her hands were icy as she brought them to her burning face, her legs weak with relief. Rurik wouldn’t see her in that damnable sleeping gown after all!

  Suddenly she gasped in horror. Oh, no! Nellwyn had said she was to be escorted to Rurik’s longhouse after she was bathed and dressed, which would be long before Semirah came for her at dusk. What was she going to do? Would the concubine know where to find her? Mother of Christ, why hadn’t she thought to say something before Semirah had fled?

  Caught up in her quandary and pacing the room, Zora didn’t hear the second rap at her door. She only looked up when Nellwyn entered, the slave woman’s eyes filled with concern.

  “Are you all right, my lady? Your cheeks are so flushed.”

  “I’m fine,” Zora began, then she heaved a ragged sigh as an idea suddenly came to her. “No, Nellwyn, I’m not fine. I feel terrible…dizzy. I think I should lie down before–”

  “Now don’t be fainting on the floor!” cried the slave woman, rushing forward to take her arm. She swept aside the filmy gown as Zora sank upon the bed. “You’re just overanxious about tonight, aye, I’d swear to it. I was like that myself when I first went to my Vasili’s bed, a quaking virgin if ever there was one. He’s a good man, but so big that he struck the fear of God in me. Yet he couldn’t have been more gentle, and so Lord Rurik will surely be with you.”

  Rurik, gentle? Willing away all too compelling memories of his steely embrace, Zora said shakily, “Perhaps you’re right, Nellwyn.” She disliked that she must deceive someone who had been so kind to her, but she had no choice. “Perhaps I’ll feel better if I rest for a while. I’m sorry about the bath.”

  “Don’t trouble yourself, my lady. We can heat up the water quick enough when you’re ready. Now close your eyes and if you need anything, I’ll be right outside.”

  Zora waited until the door thudded shut behind Nellwyn before she allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief. It was no more than a few hours before dusk. Surely she could feign her malady at least that long. She must!

  “You’re going to find a cold empty bed when you return tonight, my lord husband,” she whispered, imagining the look on Rurik’s face when he realized that she was gone. It was not hard to do. The image she conjured was so grave and menacing, she shuddered and quickly chased it from her mind.

  Chapter 17

  Zora had to be shaken awake, and when she opened her eyes to find Nellwyn leaning over her, she could not believe that she had actually fallen asleep when there was so much at stake. Yet after two sleepless nights, she was not surprised that exhaustion had overcome her.

  “You look to be feeling better, my lady. I let you rest a good long time, but it’s growing dark—”

  “Yes, yes, I feel much better.” Zora raised herself on one elbow, trying to shake the cobwebs from her brain. “You said it’s dusk?”

  “Aye, and according to Lord Rurik’s summons, he said he’d be back not long after sunset. We’ll have to hurry if you’re to be ready in time—”

  “Then prepare my bath, Nellwyn.”

  “I already have, my lady. The water’s steaming and I’ve poured in an extra measure of rose oil just to please you.”

  Seized by desperation, Zora had to think of some way to get the slave woman to leave her chamber. If it was almost night, Semirah would arrive soon. Zora didn’t even want to consider that she might have missed her. “Please, Nellwyn, I need a few more moments alone…so I can gather my thoughts. Surely you understand.”

  Sighing, Nellwyn nodded. “Very well, my lady, but no longer than that. Lord Rurik’s not one to have his orders disobeyed.” She began to close the door, then paused. “If you think it would help, I could fetch you some wine. A half goblet or so might relax you and I’m sure Lord Rurik wouldn’t mind.”

  “Thank you, Nellwyn, that sounds lovely. But there’s no need to bring it in here. I’ll enjoy it with my bath.”

  Finally alone, Zora waited an interminable moment just to make sure that the slave woman wouldn’t return. Then she rose and flew to the chest that held her new clothes.

  Throwing back the lid, she pulled out a cloak and whisked it around her shoulders, then she snatched up a small embroidered bag that held the gold circlet she had worn at her wedding. Now all she had to do was watch for Semirah. She was barely to the window when she heard men shouting outside and a woman screaming shrilly, then frantic shouts of “Fire! Fire!” split the air.

  “Holy Mother, protect us,” Zora prayed aloud, wondering if the compound might be under attack. As she flung aside the fur covering she got her first acrid whiff of smoke, carried to her on a strong breeze that whipped her hair about her face. Fearing that her own longhouse might be aflame, she was tempted to jump out the window right then and there.

  To her relief, she saw that it wasn’t her dwelling but the roof of a distant longhouse that had become a bright orange inferno, thick black smoke boiling into the darkening sky. As warriors began to run toward the building from all directions with buckets of water, she realized at the same moment that she spied a cloaked figure hurrying toward her window that her guards had joined the fray.

  “Come! Now!”

  Semirah’s urgent voice shocked Zora into action. With a racing heart she climbed onto the sill and jumped to the ground, and after covering her head with the hood of her cloak, she clasped the concubine’s outstretched hand and dashed with her alongside the building. Men, women, and children seemed to be running everywhere, the confusion and noise like a swirl of chaos around them. Then Zora saw that another roof was burning, the gusty wind having swept the soaring flames onto a neighboring longhouse that was ominously close to the assembly hall.

  “You…you started the fire, didn’t you?” Zora rasped as she and Semirah darted between buildings, keeping close to the walls and well into the shadows.

  “How else could I come for you without anyone noticing? Faster now, we’re almost there!”

  Zora was gasping for breath by the time they ducked into a small storehouse. The musty-smelling interior, its walls lined with barrels, would have been pitch-black if Semirah had not kept the door slightly ajar.

  “Over here.” Dropping to her hands and knees, the concubine began to claw at the dry rushes strewn upon the planked floor until she had uncovered three heavy-looking iron bolts. One by one she drew them back, grunting with exertion as she then pulled up a trapdoor. “Go! It will be dark, so you must feel your way. You will find a horse and guide waiting for you when you leave the tunnel.”

  Zora looked from the gaping black hole to Semirah. “How will I get out?”

  “When you reach the other side, feel for a latch, then push up hard.” The concubine thrust a small, heavy bag into her hand. “Here is the gold! Go! By now the flames may have gone
out!”

  Only too eager to oblige her, Zora plopped down at the edge of the opening. She had barely swung her legs into the hole when Semirah shoved her from behind.

  “Farewell, Princess.”

  “Oh…!”

  Zora had never known such a terrible fright as plunging feet first into blackness, the wind knocked from her body when she landed hard on her backside. It hadn’t been a long drop, perhaps only five feet, and she realized as Semirah slammed the trapdoor shut above her and secured the three bolts that she would have to crouch when she stood or risk bumping her head. Yet the walls were farther apart than her outstretched arms, which made sense if the tunnel had been built to accommodate men the size of Rurik.

  “Farewell to you, too, Semirah, but you didn’t have to push me,” Zora muttered. She could just imagine the bruises she would bear from her fall.

  All alone now, she took a moment to catch her breath. She tried not to dwell upon the fact that there were probably rats down here and spiders and God only knew what else, telling herself to think instead about how she was finally going to be free of Rurik. She would never see him again!

  Zora was stunned that her excitement could suddenly be dampened by regret. Furious with herself, she focused on getting out of the tunnel. Grimacing as she groped around the clammy dirt floor for the bags holding her circlet and the gold, she was glad when she found them quickly. She rose to her feet, remembering to keep her head low as she made her way down the passage.

  It was strange to keep walking forward when she couldn’t see where she was headed, the tunnel eerily silent but for the sound of her breathing. Yet she could tell that she was moving in a winding direction and not a straight line, the air growing more stuffy as she moved along. Soon her neck began to ache from hunching over.

  As the moments dragged on, she walked faster, one hand extended in front of her so that she wouldn’t go slamming into a wall. When was this damned tunnel going to end? She would never have guessed that it could be so long, but then again, the shaft was an escape route.