The sound of horses’ hooves impinged on his consciousness and he glanced up to see a large group of horsemen approaching. As they drew nearer it became clear that they were warriors, mercenaries from the look of them, led by a nobleman on a chestnut stallion. Leif frowned. The man looked vaguely familiar, though the pace made it difficult to see details. The riders barely spared a glance at the group of thralls but sped by in a cloud of dust and were eventually lost to view.
‘Trouble there,’ muttered the slave beside him.
‘Why? Who was that?’
‘Jarl Gulbrand. Nasty piece of work by all accounts.’
‘How do you know him?’
‘Seen him here before, several times. He’s to marry Jarl Einar’s niece.’
Leif’s hand clenched round the shaft of the spade. ‘They’re well suited to each other.’
‘If you ask me, she doesn’t know what she’s letting herself in for.’
‘Then she’ll find out, won’t she?’
He turned away and viciously jabbed the spade into the ground again, his mind in turmoil. The thrall was right: she had no idea what she was letting herself in for. But, by Odin, she would find out soon enough. The thought gave Leif a momentary savage pleasure. Underneath it was something rather different and much harder to define. Would you like to watch the bedding ceremony? I can arrange it. His jaw tightened. Clearly what he felt wasn’t jealousy because he no longer cared, but it might just be some residual notion of possessiveness. He’d get over it soon enough.
* * *
Astrid’s heart lurched and she regarded Dalla in mounting horror. ‘Jarl Gulbrand here already? Are you quite certain?’
Dalla nodded. ‘He rode in not half an hour ago with a large retinue of men.’
‘Merciful gods! It wasn’t supposed to be till the end of the week.’
‘He must be eager to see his new bride.’
Astrid took a deep breath to steady herself. ‘What am I going to do?’
‘Smile and speak him fair,’ replied Dalla. ‘Whatever happens, you must not incur his displeasure for any reason. If you do there will be a reckoning later, depend on it. And perhaps not for you alone either.’
‘Leif.’
‘Exactly. Hakke and his kinsman will use any excuse to humiliate him further. It might even go beyond that now Gulbrand is here. You cannot give them a reason.’
‘You’re right. I know you are. It’s just that I don’t know how far my acting abilities will stretch.’
‘Do your best. In the meantime, you need to change your clothes. You must seem to do your future husband honour.’
Astrid nodded, knowing she was right. Thus, with Dalla’s help, she donned one of her best gowns, a soft mauve, richly embroidered at the neck and sleeves. A fine girdle rode her waist. Her pale gold hair was combed and re-braided with matching ribbons.
The maidservant stepped back to admire her handiwork. ‘You look beautiful.’
‘I hope it will serve.’
‘It will serve.’
With a heavy heart, Astrid sat down to await the summons that she knew was coming.
* * *
It was perhaps an hour later when a servant came to announce that Jarl Einar desired her presence in the great hall. When she arrived she paused a moment on the threshold, regarding the gathered company with misgivings. There were at least thirty of them, currently refreshing themselves with cups of ale. Her uncle was standing by the hearth, along with Hakke and a couple of others she didn’t know. Gathering all her courage, she advanced to join them.
Seeing her approach Jarl Einar surveyed her critically and then, surprisingly, smiled faintly. He turned to the man beside him.
‘My lord, may I present my niece, Lady Astrid?’
Gulbrand’s dark gaze swept her from head to foot. Then he too smiled, revealing cruel white teeth. ‘I see that the rumours of your beauty have not been exaggerated, my lady.’
Like his cousin he was tall and powerfully made. He resembled Hakke too, in terms of the thin-lipped mouth and aquiline nose, but she saw this man was older, by at least ten years, and his waistline was beginning to thicken. Silver strands were clearly visible in the jet-black hair receding from his forehead, and in the thick black beard that adorned his chin. The small black eyes held a predatory glint.
‘I am glad now that my business was concluded early,’ he went on.
Astrid managed a smile. ‘You do me honour, my lord.’
Evidently her response found favour because her uncle smiled along with the rest. Then he turned back to his guest. ‘We are delighted to see you so soon. In truth, we were not expecting to.’
‘I was keen to see my bride.’
‘Keener still to make her your wife, I’ll wager,’ said Hakke.
Gulbrand grinned. ‘You are in the right of it, Cousin. What man would not be keen to take so fair a lady to his bed? Nor shall she find me wanting there. I mean to get heirs.’
An icy lump formed in the pit of Astrid’s stomach. Once they were married he could take her whenever he wished regardless of her inclination. He could do whatever he liked. She would be little more than a chattel. The thought filled her with rage.
‘She will give you many sons, my lord,’ replied Jarl Einar.
‘That she will.’
‘I have no doubt that she will do her utmost to please you in every way.’
‘Well, there’s no reason why you should wait another week, is there?’ said Hakke. ‘Why not bring the wedding forwards?’
Astrid’s heart leapt towards her throat and she darted an indignant look his way. He returned a malicious smile.
‘Good idea,’ replied Gulbrand. ‘I would have this knot tied as soon as possible.’
Jarl Einar beamed. ‘It shall be as you wish, my prince. Shall we say two days hence? That will give us time to make the necessary arrangements and to prepare a suitable feast.’
‘That will suit me very well.’ He threw a sideways glance at Astrid. ‘Very well indeed.’
‘Then it’s settled. In two days it shall be. My niece will hold herself in readiness.’ He laid a hand on her shoulder, an apparently affectionate gesture that only increased her apprehension. ‘In that regard, would you excuse us for a moment? There are one or two things we need to discuss.’
He led her apart until they were out of earshot then drew her round to face him. ‘Jarl Gulbrand is pleased. You have done well. Perhaps you will be able to win his affections.’
She had no wish to win his affections, always assuming he had any, but it would have been a serious error to say so. She met her uncle’s gaze steadily. ‘I will do what I must, my lord.’
‘That’s true. After all, you know the consequences of failure. Nevertheless, you will remain in the women’s bower from now on, unless it pleases his lordship to have you with him, in which case you will be informed. Do you understand?’
‘I understand.’
‘Good.’ He eyed her coolly. ‘You may go.’
Astrid returned to the bower, seething inwardly. If she were a man she would have seized a sword and run him through, and his confederates with him. As it was, there would be no escape. Two days would pass swiftly enough, and then Gulbrand would take her to wife. In her mind’s eye she could see Hakke’s taunting smile and knew he had guessed at her true feelings. Furthermore, he enjoyed the knowledge with the cruelty of a cat that toys with its prey. Anger surged afresh, all the worse for being entirely impotent. Mingled with it was cold dread. Not so long ago she had been dreaming of escape. How quickly dreams turned to ashes.
Chapter Nine
Astrid would willingly have remained secluded but it seemed her future husband had other ideas. She didn’t dare to refuse his company, but the strain of pretence increased, particularly as he lost no opportunity to touch her. In other circumstances it might have been considered a flattering degree of attention, but underneath it she sensed the keen predatory nature of the man and it repelled her. As the eve of th
eir wedding arrived her spirit sank under the weight of dread. Only the thought of Leif enabled her to bear it. She would do whatever was necessary to protect him. She owed him that. It was little enough and, very soon now, even that little would be removed. Gulbrand would take her to his own estate and she would likely never see Leif again.
She retired early that night, a request that no one tried to deny her. Gulbrand smiled. ‘Aye, go and get some rest, my lady. We’ve a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.’
‘And precious little rest at the end of it, I’ll warrant,’ replied Hakke.
‘It’s not sleep I’ll be thinking of.’
‘Nor would I.’
The men laughed. Astrid’s face grew hot with embarrassment and indignation. However, she forbore to reply and took her leave with all the grace she could muster, only too aware of the looks that followed her from the room. The bower was a sanctuary after the loud voices and raucous laughter in the hall. It was the last time she would ever sleep here. Tomorrow night she must share Gulbrand’s bed, must submit herself to his will... For a moment panic reared its head and she fought tears. They would avail her nothing now.
* * *
Leif woke with a start, knowing that something was wrong, or at least different. The inky darkness inside the shed made vision impossible so he propped himself on one elbow, listening. In the distance he could make out the sound of carousing from the direction of the hall but he knew that wasn’t what had disturbed him. From outside he heard muted voices and then the sound of scraping metal. His heartbeat quickened and he got to his feet. Was this another trick of Hakke’s? If his enemies thought to take him by surprise they were going to be disappointed.
Moments later he felt cool air against his face as the door opened and then a man spoke quietly.
‘Jarl Leif? Are you there?’
His heart missed a beat. ‘Thorvald?’
‘Aye, my lord.’ The speaker turned away and murmured to someone behind him. ‘We’ve found him.’
For a moment or two Leif was overwhelmed by a resurgence of hope so strong it hurt. Then practicality reasserted itself. ‘I’m chained, Thorvald.’
‘Don’t worry. We’ve come prepared.’
Leaving their companions on guard, three of them entered the hut, closing the door behind them. Moments later the small space was bathed in soft light from a small lantern. Leif blinked, waiting for his eyes to grow accustomed to the brightness. His men surveyed him closely. When they saw what had been done to him and saw the collar around his neck, their expressions became taut with rage. However, there was no time to waste on words and they addressed themselves to the chains instead.
‘We found this on the guard after we cut his throat,’ said Thorvald. He produced a small key.
‘It’s for the ankle lock,’ replied Leif.
His companion inserted the key and the anklet opened easily. They turned next to the shackles on his wrists but, having no key for those, used an iron bar to prise apart the links in the connecting chain.
‘We’ll strike off the bracelets later, Chief,’ said Snorri, ‘but at least you’ll have freedom to move in the meantime.’
Leif nodded, and rose to his feet, surveying the broken chain with grim satisfaction. Then they left the hut and rejoined the group outside. Thorvald handed Leif a sword belt. He buckled it on and drew the blade from the scabbard.
‘How many we?’ he asked then.
‘Not enough to save you,’ snarled a familiar voice behind them.
He whipped round to see three of Hakke’s henchmen. The prince’s guards were doing night rounds to check on the prisoner. Leif just had time to register the swords in their hands before they attacked. He smiled grimly and went for the tallest one, countering a vicious thrust on the way. He followed it with a rain of blows, all of them potentially lethal. However, his opponent was quick and able, meeting and parrying each move, his eyes alight with battle lust. Leif felt it too, a fierce, hot urge to kill fuelled by hatred and determination. He wanted to take his time, to inflict a cut for every humiliation suffered, until the ground was soaked in his enemy’s blood. Then to cripple and kill—slowly.
With an effort he controlled his anger, knowing he couldn’t afford to prolong this. They were some distance from the hall but the noise might carry that far. In spite of the carousing he’d heard earlier, there might be some light sleepers and that would mean reinforcements on the way. Setting his jaw, he laid on with a will, seizing the initiative, looking for the opening he needed. His foe met him head on, trading blow for blow. He was fit and agile, a seasoned warrior.
Leif feinted, giving ground, inviting his opponent in. Then, closing his left fist around the length of hanging chain, he swung it hard. The end smashed across the man’s face, splitting his cheek like a ripe plum. He snarled, reeling sideways, half blinded by blood. Leif came on. The wounded man threw up his arm to parry the next blow but it was too little too late and the descending blade severed his arm at the wrist. For a moment he stared in horrified disbelief at the bloody stump where his hand had been. He never saw the thrust that killed him.
Leif pulled his sword free and glanced down at the corpse with fierce and silent exultation. A few yards off lay the lifeless bodies of the other two guards. They had been slain quickly and with no attempt at finesse.
‘We need to get out of here, Chief,’ said Thorvald.
‘So we do,’ replied Leif, ‘but first there’s something I have to collect.’
* * *
Astrid didn’t know what had woken her, only that something wasn’t quite right. The quality of the darkness was less dense which meant it was the time between night and dawn, the time when sleep is deepest and the world silent. Except that it wasn’t, or not entirely. She lay still, listening. Then she heard it again, the soft sound of leather on wood, the quiet tread of footsteps across the floor. Dalla going out to the privy? No, not going out, returning, and not just Dalla either. Yet there were only the two of them in the place.
‘Dalla?’ she whispered.
A hand twitched aside the curtain that separated her sleeping place from the others and someone stepped into the room, a large dark shape silhouetted against the lighter gloom.
‘Who’s—?’
The question was abruptly cut off as a wad of cloth was shoved into her mouth. She tried to scream, but the only sound that emerged was muffled gurgling. Panicking now, she struck out, her fists connecting with hard muscle. She struck out again and landed another blow. Strong hands seized her wrists in a hold as inflexible as iron. In moments she was securely bound. In the process she caught a whiff of stale sweat and dirt, rank and feral. Then an arm of steel dragged her out of bed and carried her, kicking and struggling, down the passage to the communal room beyond. When they reached it her captor altered his grip just long enough to throw her over his shoulder. With that she was carried from the bower.
Outside several more armed men were waiting. Having accomplished their aim, the whole group melted back into the gloom. They moved swiftly and silently. Torn between fury and fright Astrid stopped struggling until it might do some good. She had no idea of direction, only of cool air and the smell of damp earth. She glimpsed tree trunks and then horses. Minutes later she was slung across the front of a saddle like a sack of meal. What followed was a confused impression of a man’s leg, galloping hooves and jolting motion that jarred every bone in her body. It seemed to go on for a long time.
* * *
Eventually the riders pulled up and her captor dismounted. He dragged Astrid off after him. She caught the sound of lapping water and made out the dark bulk of the waiting ship before he swung her into his arms and bore her up the gangplank.
‘Make for the island.’
As she heard him speak her stomach lurched and she realised then whose prisoner she was.
Leif dumped her in the stern and left her there, making no attempt to untie her or remove the gag. Since her hands had been bound in front of her, she managed the
latter herself, but the knotted cord round her wrists resisted every effort to undo it. Nor did anyone else offer to help. Indeed, beyond one or two curious looks, the men ignored her. She heard them cast off the lines and then the splash of oars. With a growing sense of apprehension she felt the ship begin to move.
Around them the sky began to lighten and black faded slowly to grey. Astrid could make out details now, both of the ship and the rowers. However, her gaze moved away from them to the tall, lean figure standing by the mast. As if sensing himself watched, he turned slowly to face her. Astrid caught her breath. The short-cropped hair revealed all the familiar planes of his face on which the bruises stood out in sharp relief. He still wore the irons on his wrists and the leather collar round his neck but, far from diminishing him as badges of slavery, they lent him an altogether different quality. It was barbaric, predatory and dangerous. As his gaze locked with hers she felt her mouth dry. There was no trace of friendliness or warmth in those blue-grey eyes, only cold anger and the silent promise of retribution.
* * *
For the duration of the journey Leif spoke no word to her and nor did any of his men. She might not have been there at all. Neither was she offered food or drink. Her body felt stiff and cramped from sitting in one position and her wrists ached from the rope. The hard light of day made her painfully aware that her sole garment was a linen shift which reached only to mid-calf leaving an indecent amount of lower leg on view. It increased the feeling of vulnerability. She had no idea where Leif was taking her—only that, wherever it was, it didn’t bode well. With every stroke of the oars her apprehension increased.
It was mid-afternoon, as far as she could guess, when the ship entered the fjord. Rugged hillsides dotted with spruce trees rose out of the dark waters. As they progressed the hillsides became sheer cliffs and she could see a few small rocky islets, deserted save for gulls and terns. The only sounds were the cries of the birds and the lapping water. They might have been at the uttermost end of the earth.
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