Finally she lay down and turned her back to the two stone-faced Varangians posted just inside the entrance, having grown weary of looking at them and no doubt they of her. There were also a half dozen or so warriors pacing outside the tent. She had watched their shadows moving across the canvas walls all afternoon. She couldn’t see them anymore but she could hear the low drone of their voices, an occasional laugh surprising her considering the gravity of their presence here.
These men of the north seemed so confident, so fearless. She already knew they believed that God and right was on their side, victory assured over a foul usurper. To her, the imminent future was too uncertain to even contemplate. She closed her eyes, willing herself to try to get some rest despite the hungry rumbling of her empty stomach.
“You could rouse the dead with that growling.”
Rolling over, Zora stared up at Rurik in surprise. In the oil lamp’s flickering light he appeared as much a giant as the first time she had seen him, his head grazing the ceiling, his formidable size dwarfing the tent.
Her heart pounding, she noticed then that her guards were gone and she no longer heard men’s voices right outside. She realized Rurik must have sent them to help themselves to food for he carried a round loaf of bread under one arm, a wineskin under the other, and in his hands a steaming bowl of something that smelled wonderfully of lamb stew.
“I thought you might be hungry, Princess, but if I’d known how much I would have brought more food.” He went down on his haunches and set everything in front of her, then he sat upon the ground and rested an arm on one raised knee. “Go on. While it’s still hot.”
“Aren’t you going to have any?” Zora’s face grew warm under his scrutiny. She broke off a piece of bread and dipped it into the stew.
“Not tonight. I never eat before a battle.”
Her eyes widening, Zora suddenly didn’t feel very hungry. But if Rurik had noticed her reaction he made no comment, reaching instead for the wineskin. She thought he was going to drink but he simply removed the stopper and then handed her the leather bag. She didn’t ask if he wanted any, sensing his answer would be the same.
“Eat, Zora. For strength.”
She did, understanding his unspoken reference to their child, which for the past days had been the only thing to sustain her spirits.
Whether Rurik loved her or not, she knew in her heart that she wouldn’t want to live if anything happened to him, but she must for she no longer had just herself to consider. Yet right now, that didn’t make it any easier to swallow the food and she had to wash it down with wine for fear she might choke.
“The guards told me you never strayed from this corner,” he said, glancing at the straw pallet on which she was sitting.
“Where else could I have gone?” she asked, wondering at his sudden frown. Then it dawned upon her that he must still think she was going to try to escape and she gave a sad laugh. “I’m no match for your Varangian warriors, Rurik, even if they lacked an ounce of sense. Those two stared at me all afternoon as if they were afraid I might disappear right from under them.”
“You have a history of doing just that, wife.” Rurik’s jaw tightened visibly.
“So I do,” she admitted softly. This seemed to startle him. He had obviously expected her to hurl some retort.
Silence reigned for long moments as Zora ate her meal, but she drank little wine. She wanted to have her wits about her for whatever the next hours might bring. At last when she could eat no more, she pushed the remainder aside and met his eyes.
“Thank you for thinking of me. I feel much better now.”
“Good. I suggest you eat the rest when you’re able for I cannot say when hot food will be prepared again.”
Feeling a chill at the import behind his words, Zora sighed heavily. She was so worried about him. If only he could give her some reassurance. “Are you and your men so confident that you will win?”
“If a man hopes to live, he doesn’t go into battle expecting defeat,” Rurik replied, wondering why she had asked him such a question. Irritation gripped him as he imagined it was because she feared for her father and his men. By Thor, even with his child growing in her belly, her loyalty to her countrymen had not wavered! “Your father’s forces and ours are well matched, Zora, if that gives you any comfort. They have enough men that they will not fall like spring lambs to the slaughter.”
“That’s not what I meant!” she said heatedly. Then she shook her head, her shoulders slumping. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. You would twist whatever I have to say anyway. I learned that well enough the other day.” She rose as if she didn’t want to be near him and went to stand at an opposite wall, her back to him. “I’m tired, Rurik. If you don’t mind, I wish you would leave—”
“So you dismiss me, Princess?”
Hearing the restrained anger in his voice, Zora glanced nervously over her shoulder to see that Rurik had risen to his feet, his eyes black as coals in the hazy light.
“I—I didn’t mean it as it sounded…” she began lamely, then her own indignation was pricked as much at herself as at him. Why shouldn’t she ask him to leave since he thought the worst of everything she had to say? She had had enough of his callous treatment!
“Yes, I did mean it,” she continued, lifting her chin as she turned to face him. “You brought my meal and I have thanked you for it, but I’m sure you have other things to do.”
“Nothing that cannot wait, wife.” Rurik glared at her as he came closer. “Or have you forgotten that you still bear that title? Perhaps you’re already thinking ahead to your father’s victory, for surely that is the outcome you hope for in your heart—”
“That’s right!” Zora shouted, losing all control in light of his preposterous statement. “That’s exactly what I want! Why hide it any longer? You’ve read me so well, Rurik Sigurdson, I see no reason to keep my true feelings from you. Yes, I hope my father wins and I hope you soon find yourself without a wife!”
He grabbed her so suddenly that she gasped, his fingers tunneling in her hair to yank her head back.
“So this is how I will remember you as I go into battle,” he breathed, his gaze ablaze with fury. “Treason like venom upon your lips.”
Tears springing to her eyes, Zora could barely answer for the emotion threatening to choke her. “You have made it so, Rurik. You can only blame your—”
She didn’t finish, Rurik’s mouth coming down so brutally upon hers that it hurt…and she knew he wanted to hurt her. His embrace was so crushing that she could hardly breathe and her neck felt ready to snap, her scalp stinging.
But she would not let him hurt her, no, she wouldn’t let him! She returned his kiss with a fury that equaled his, determined that he would remember not the lies she had just hurled at him but the blinding truth of her passion.
I love you, Rurik! she cried in her heart as she threw her arms around his neck to hold him tightly, to hold him like she would never let him go.
As if she had surprised him, his embrace eased and became not cruel but wildly possessive, and with a ragged groan he deepened his kiss to ravage her mouth while his hands grew frantic in their caress. She clung to him even as she felt him wrench her tunic over her hips and tear away her undergarment, then lift her and wrap her legs around his waist.
His breathing was hot and desperate against her lips as he yanked at his trousers and she pressed eagerly against him, knowing his intent and wanting it as much as he. She felt his hardness poised for an instant against her moist flesh, then she was riding upon it, his hands gripping her bottom as he thrust inside her like a man possessed, fast, hard, relentlessly, until she was shaking with her need.
She locked her ankles behind him, not caring that the iron mesh of his mail-shirt was biting into her thighs or the insides of her arms as she clutched wildly at his back. All conscious thought was centered upon that wet, throbbing place where they were joined, upon the incredible heat, the friction, the rapture rising up to co
nsume her…
“Rurik!” she cried at the dizzying height of her ecstasy, but she heard not a sound, his kiss silencing her as he thrust deeply once, twice…then the third time with such ferocity that his whole body shuddered.
“Zora…” came his hoarse whisper, his mouth tearing from hers so he could stare into her eyes as his seed burst hot and pulsing from his flesh. And at that heart-stopping moment she knew…though she might never hear it from his lips. She could see it shining like truth in his eyes. The pain, the torment…the yearning.
He loved her. Holy Mother Mary, if life ended for her now she would need nothing more.
It was that thought she drew on for courage when he suddenly closed his eyes as if to shut her out, his expression growing as hard and angry as before. Then she was standing upon the ground, her crumpled tunic falling around her ankles as Rurik fastened his trousers and strode from the tent.
He was gone without a final word, yet she heard him giving terse orders outside to the men who must have returned. Certain that her guards were soon to rejoin her, Zora walked shakily to the lamp and doused it, then moved through the dark to her pallet where she lay down and drew the blanket over her.
She wanted no one to see her tears.
Chapter 29
Zora awoke to the distant sound of drums and she was seized with such panic, she vaulted from the pallet and ran stumbling in the predawn light for the entrance.
“Hold there! Where do you think you’re bound?” demanded the guard who jumped up and caught her around the waist while the other man lunged to his feet to block her way.
“The drums…” she said distractedly, thinking of Rurik, wanting to go to him. “It’s started, hasn’t it?”
“Not until they fall still, my lady.”
“Aye, and when they do, we should be fighting that usurper alongside our lord instead of left behind in this camp with the slaves and a disobedient wife,” the taller Varangian muttered before he was silenced with a sharp gesture from his grim-faced companion.
“Go and sit down, Lady Zora,” continued the red-bearded guard who held her, his voice firm. “There is nothing to do but wait.” Sighing when Zora refused to budge, he picked her up and carried her back to the pallet and set her down upon it. “Try to sleep if you can. Word will be brought to us—”
“Sleep?” Zora tossed aside the blanket he had dropped in her lap. “How can I when my husband…?” Realizing from the man’s frown that she was getting nowhere, Zora willed herself to be calm. “Where are they?”
“Two miles south. Prince Mstislav’s army advanced during the night to a village called Listven and Grand Prince Yaroslav’s forces have gone to meet them.”
No wonder they could hear the drums, Zora thought, rubbing her temples that had begun to pound as insistently. Rurik wasn’t so far away, but with these warriors guarding her, she might as well be in Novgorod.
“Your friend said he wanted to be fighting with my husband,” she said, trying a desperate tack. “Go if you wish! Both of you! I can wait here alone—”
“Our orders are to stay here with you, Lady Zora, no matter what was said.”
As the guard went back to his companion, the two men now watching her warily, Zora knew from their somber faces that she would not sway them. All around her becoming a nightmare, she covered her ears with her hands…hating the drums’ ominous sound but dreading even more the moment when they would stop.
***
Standing at the head of his men, Rurik grimly scanned the valley before him.
He had not seen so many thousands of warriors facing each other since the grand prince had defeated his murderous brother Sviatopolk on the plain of the Alta River five years ago. That day the ground had flowed red with blood and today would be no different. Once again, the kingdom of all Rus was at stake.
With the fierce cadence of the drums thundering in his ears, Rurik looked to his right along a hundred-deep line of men that stretched to the distant hills. Then he glanced to his left, the sun’s dawning rays streaking the cloudless blue sky with gold fire. Fleetingly, it reminded him of the tawny glory of Zora’s hair until the drums abruptly stopped and he thought of her no more.
As a thunderous battle cry tore from ten thousand throats, Rurik yanked out his sword and held it up to the sun. “Branch-of-Odin, honor me! Defend me!”
Whipping his shield from his shoulder, he began to run with his men toward the enemy…the ground made black with their numbers, the air thick with their arrows and spears.
***
Zora had never known time could pass so horribly slow, each hour dragging into the next and still they had heard no news.
She imagined that she was making the guards dizzy with her incessant pacing, but she couldn’t help herself. It was better than sitting and staring at them or the tent walls. Now it was nearing sunset, the sunlight already thinning. She was certain if they didn’t hear something soon she would explode.
“Do you think they will go on fighting into the night?” she asked her guards for the tenth time that hour, but before either man could answer, shouts were heard outside the tent accompanied by the pounding of hooves and then horses snorting and whinnying. Zora rushed frantically toward the entrance only to be warned away with a sharp glance.
“Wait here, my lady,” came a terse command as both warriors ducked outside, leaving her alone.
“No, I won’t stay in here any longer!” Dashing after them, Zora ran straight into a burly warrior who was just about to enter the tent. She would have fallen backward if he hadn’t caught her and it was then she recognized him, although the grimness of his expression and those of the guards behind him made her heart lurch painfully.
“Arne!” Her gaze swept him, his clothing stained with sweat and blood, a deep gash on his upper right arm that appeared to have only recently stopped bleeding. “Where’s Rurik? Tell me!”
“He is missing, my lady.”
“Missing?” Horrified, Zora gaped at him. “How…?”
“This day’s battle has been won by your father but by the narrowest of victories. Great losses have been suffered on both sides. I have never seen such terrible slaughter. The dead and the wounded are still being counted.”
The dead and the wounded. Holy Mother of God, please not Rurik! Feeling as if she might be sick, Zora forced herself to think rationally.
“Then we must go and look for him, Arne!” She glanced past him to the four men on horseback who appeared to be waiting for them and then back to his dirt-smudged face. “You have horses—”
“Aye, but not to take you to search the battlefield. Grand Prince Yaroslav sent us to fetch you, for he wants you at his side when he meets with your father in Chernigov. He has decided to seek a compromise rather than suffer more bloodshed. If we go on fighting, many more will die for there is still much strength left in both armies.”
“But what of my husband?” she cried, helpless tears welling in her eyes. “My husband, Arne! He might be hurt…he might need me!”
Although his gaze held pity, the grizzled warrior’s voice was resolute.
“Many are looking for him, my lady, and there is always the chance he could have been taken prisoner. Knowing Lord Rurik as I do, he probably ignored the order for retreat and fought on until the last moment, only to become overpowered and captured by your father’s advancing forces. We must hope that is what happened, but for now you must come with me. The grand prince is waiting. He believes your presence may help ease the way for talk of peace.”
“No!” Backing away, Zora shook her head. “My uncle and my father be damned! If I go anywhere, it will be to search for my husband—”
“Forgive me, my lady,” said Arne as he lunged for her and grabbed her arm, pulling her toward him. The Varangian who had so resented being left out of the battle caught her other arm, the two men half dragging her to the horses as she twisted and struggled between them.
“No…please! Let me go!” she demanded desperately, bu
t it did nothing but make her voice hoarse. She was lifted into a saddle, one of the men who had accompanied Arne now her steely armed captor.
Arne mounted, then they were galloping past silent, blood-splattered troops just beginning to return to the camp, many shouldering makeshift litters that held wounded men whose agonized moans cut like knives into Zora. Seeing Rurik in each warrior’s pain-wracked face, she finally had to shut her eyes against them.
***
Zora could imagine what a bitter moment it was for Grand Prince Yaroslav as he and his phalanx of warriors were ushered into the great hall of a palace that had once belonged to his viceroy, only to find his brother waiting for them upon a gilt throne. As for herself, any joy she might have felt in seeing her father again was tempered by the horror of the battlefield they had skirted on their way to Chernigov, grisly images she could not shake even as they approached the raised dais.
She now understood why it might be difficult to find someone in such carnage. In places where the fighting had been fiercest, the living had waged battle on top of the fallen until bodies were heaped upon bodies six or seven deep. Yet if she began to believe for an instant that Rurik might be lying at the bottom of one of those lifeless piles, she would go mad—
“Zora!”
She started as her father left his throne and rushed toward her, his thick arms outstretched. Then she was smothered within his bearish embrace until she feared she might faint. Finally he pulled away to look into her eyes, and in his ruddy face she could see his overwhelming relief.
The Pagan's Prize (Captive Brides Collection) Page 29
