Vikings: Deception (The Great Heathen Army series Book 2)

by Ceri Bladen

  Her heart swelled and her pulse quickened with excitement. He’d expressed that he loved her. By the look on his face, she knew he meant it. She finally felt her inhibitions go. She lifted her arms to welcome him to her.

  Ubba leaned on his elbow and picked a blade of straw out of Rosfrith’s black hair. He focused on it, turning it in his fingers. “I’ll be glad when you don’t have to work so hard.”

  She didn’t reply, unsure what he meant. Mayhap his bedmates get preferential treatment? She didn’t know if she felt comfortable with that arrangement. Since returning from the mountain, she’d already received unkind words from some thralls who thought her above her station, when they’d seen her with Ubba. To be seen to be treated differently by him would cause unfavourable consequences for her.

  “And I’ll thankful for when the winter arrives.” He regarded her with lazy eyes.

  “Why? It’s cold and dark.”

  He let a lethargic smile flit on his lips. “Ay, but the days are shorter, and there are fewer jobs to get done. More time spent in my bed-closet with you.”

  She laughed.

  He moved forward and planted a kiss on her nose. His speed had surprised her as he had seemed sluggish.

  “That sounds good to me, too.” She slid her hand along the side of his face, enjoying the tickling feeling of his beard. She guided him back towards her mouth.

  A chill caused goose-bumps over Rosfrith’s skin and she realised they’d spent most of the morning in the bed. “Come on, we need to get up,” she suggested. It was the last thing she wanted to do because, in bed, they were just two people - equals, not chieftain and thrall.

  “Hmmm,” Ubba mumbled, more than happy to continue to snooze in his warm bed with Rosfrith in his arms - particularly as he hadn’t slept the night before, thinking of how he was going to win her back. “Just relax,” he whispered before kissing her bare shoulder.

  Rosfrith settled for a while until she noticed an increase of noise within in the longhouse. When she detected a couple of women’s voices near the area of the loom, she began to feel nervous. They needed to move before someone came looking for Ubba. She tapped his arm, which lay over her stomach. “Come on. You have things to attend to as chieftain and I have things to attend to...”

  Ubba opened his eyes and sighed. Keeping his arm firmly over her, he used his other to prop his head on. “Don’t say as a thrall.”

  She shrugged and looked at the roof. “But, I am.”

  “Not for long.” He delicately traced the frown, which had appeared on her forehead. “I declared to you that I want you by my side, forever.”

  “As your bedmate?” She continued to look upwards, trying to control her emotions.

  He shook his head and gave a long, low sigh before he sat up. He turned around to look at her. “I told you I wanted you as the mother of my children. Didn’t you believe me?” The tear escaping from the corner of her eye disclosed to him she hadn’t. “I mean it, Rosfrith. You must learn to trust me. Ek ann þér, I love you.” He leaned forward and kissed the trailing tear away. “Why are you so insecure about how I feel?”

  She closed her eyes, partly to stem her tears, partly not to look at him. She didn’t want to explain. She heard Ubba take a deep breath.

  “Is it because of Astrid?”

  She nodded, too upset to speak.

  He twisted his body and landed on top of her, using his forearms to catch his weight. He was quiet for a while as he searched her face, which was between his hands. Her eyes were closed, her dark eyelashes, wet with tears. “Look at me, Rosfrith. Look at me.” He kissed an escaping tear and waited for her eyes to flutter open. “I’m sorry about what took place when we returned from the mountain. It shouldn’t have happened. I should have talked to you, but I didn’t know how I felt. It was a mistake I regret, but I can’t do anything about it now.”

  Her eyelids lowered, hiding the hurt.

  “Look at me, Rosfrith.” He gently grabbed her chin, so she had no choice but to face him. When she opened them, he gave her a small smile. “At the time, I didn’t dare hope you wanted a relationship, and when you walked away…” His voice hitched. He stopped to regain his composure. “I thought it was your way of telling me you didn’t.”

  “But, Astrid was there to greet you.”

  He put his finger over her lips to silence her. “She was, but it didn’t mean I wanted her to be.” He sighed heavily. “You’ve got to understand Astrid has been my bedmate for years. She wanted to be my wife, but I’ve been delaying because I never felt the same. But, saying that, it doesn’t mean I want to hurt her. She has been loyal and good to me. Do you understand?”

  Rosfrith nodded.

  “So, let’s forget this uncertainty. I want you to be my wife. And as soon as I talk to a couple of people, we will make it public.”

  “Astrid?” she whispered.

  Ubba nodded and rolled off her, taking her back into the crook of his arm. “Ay, and her brother. Then, I’ll send a missive to your father asking to marry you.”

  She stopped the small circles she was making on his chest with her fingers. “You’ll do that for me?”

  He smiled. “Of course. I can’t guarantee a reply, but once we hear back, we’ll arrange for the wedding. It will be towards the end of summer when our guests and witnesses can travel freely. On a Friday to please the goddess Frigg. We’ll have plenty of time to gather food supplies during harvest, so there will be enough to feed everyone.”

  Rosfrith could feel herself getting excited.

  “We’ll gather sufficient honey to make mead for our bridal-ale, and, of course…” He traced a finger along the exposed skin on her waist. He liked the way she automatically flinched and giggled. “For us to drink for the month after.” He smiled. “Ay, I’m looking forward to our honeymoon.” He raised his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. He lightly grabbed her hand when she playfully swatted him. Leaning over, he kissed it. “Ay, I’m looking forward to our marriage, Rosfrith.” The intensity of his gaze was piercing.

  “Me, too,” she whispered. She noticed his eyes darken with desire. Mayhap they could put off getting out of bed for a little while longer? Her eyes closed as his lips neared, and her spine arched readily towards him.

  #

  Caught up on her daily chores, Rosfrith stood outside the blacksmith’s, waiting for Ubba. She resisted the urge to pace, not wanting to draw attention to herself but she couldn’t keep still. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms instead, nervous about what was to happen. It would soon be known that she was no longer a thrall. She searched for Ubba, but he was nowhere to be seen. Most people who passed, ignored her - she was a lowly thrall, after all - but, she wasn’t naïve, it wouldn’t last. As soon as they had an inkling of what was happening between her and their chieftain, the gossip would start. She’d already experienced snide remarks and attitudes from thralls she’d previously thought of as friends and she wasn’t looking forward to experiencing that again. But, she would, for Ubba.

  She glanced up and noticed Ubba on his way. It was harder for him to go unnoticed. He was being waylaid by many. Her hands clenched and released. She was too afraid to smile at him, not wanting to get caught by any passers-by. She noticed that once he was clear, he rushed to erase the distance.

  “Have you been inside?” He flicked his gaze towards the blacksmith’s door.

  Rosfrith shook her head.

  “All right, let’s get this thrall’s collar off you.” Before she had any time to think, Ubba grabbed her hand and, with the other, nudged her inside towards Magnus, the blacksmith. When he felt her reluctance, he rubbed his hand up and down her back, conscious that they didn’t have time to discuss her hesitation - inevitably someone would be searching for him sooner or late - especially Asmund, as he’d given him the slip to come here. He wanted her collar off, now, and as the chieftain, he had to be the one to tell Magnus. “Are you all right?” he whispered into her ear.

  She nodded, but for rea
sons unclear to her, she couldn’t move her feet. She desired the collar off, after all, it was a sign of being a thrall, but, it had been so long since she’d been free, she was suddenly afraid. Unreasonable – yes - but the anxiety in her chest wouldn’t let her think properly. The tickle of Ubba’s breath near her ear brought her out of her thoughts.

  “Don’t be scared, he’s only going to take this” - he touched the metal collar - “off your neck. You aren’t my thrall, any longer.” He had to resist the urge to give her a peck on her cheek. There were people he needed to see before he could indulge in public affection. “Góðan dag, Magnus Sindrison.” He indicated towards Rosfrith. “As your chieftain, I give you permission to remove this collar.”

  The blacksmith’s gaze rested on Rosfrith briefly before returning to Ubba’s. He nodded and moved towards tools hung neatly by the fire.

  While the blacksmith’s attention was elsewhere, Ubba turned to Rosfrith. “I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you here on your own. I have things to attend to. Will you be all right?”

  She smiled. “Ay, you go and do whatever chieftains do.” She leaned towards him, not wanting Magnus to overhear. “I’ll seek you out, later.”

  “Meet me in my bed-closet.” Ubba flicked a glance at Magnus, who was returning. He was unable to say what he’d like to do to her there. “I’ll come back later, Magnus.”

  Rosfrith watched him go and closed her eyes to calm herself. She knew there would be a backlash when it was removed - from the jarls, bondi, and the other thralls.

  “Ready?”

  When she heard the blacksmith’s deep voice, she opened her eyes and nodded.

  Magnus indicated for her to step towards the fire. She glanced around uneasily, wiping her clammy hands on her apron. She wasn’t looking forward to this because she vividly recalled the intense heat that had singed her hair when it was initially put on. When the blacksmith grunted at her, she realised she’d hesitated again. She tried to ignore the rolling feeling in the pit of her stomach and told herself not to be silly - she was only getting the collar off. Rotating her tight shoulders, she moved towards the stool.

  “Lean your head forward.”

  Rosfrith did as instructed. From her awkward position, with her head lowered, her gaze followed Magnus until he disappeared out of sight. She concentrated on taking deep breaths in an effort to calm herself. She waited, the heat of the fire making her perspire. When Magnus returned, he put a finger under the collar. She clasped her hands together, ready for the pain, but to her amazement, she only felt a slight pressure before it loosened. He’d cut it off.

  “Here,” he rumbled, holding out the collar.

  She reached forward and took it with one hand, the other rubbed her exposed skin. It felt soft, having been protected for so long. “Thank you,” she mumbled to his large, sweat-streaked back. He apparently didn’t want to chat, so she quickly walked out, not sure how she would explain to others where the collar had gone. She only hoped Ubba would see both Astrid and Gunnar quickly.

  “There you are,” Asmund said, giving Ubba a peculiar look. “Where have you been? I couldn’t find you.”

  “Call of nature.” Ubba laughed in an attempt to lighten the mood - he didn’t want too many questions about his whereabouts, especially as he would have to give Asmund the slip again if he managed to catch either Gunnar or Astrid.

  Asmund nodded slowly, not at all convinced.

  Ubba moved forward. “Come on, we have the thing to go to. We have to remind my wonderful tenants about our by-laws. What am I dealing with today?” Ubba sensed Asmund would soon forget his missing hours.

  “Two farmers accusing each other of stealing stock. A land dispute. And an eye-for-an-eye argument.”

  “Fine.” Ubba grunted. The law of retaliation was the principle whereby an injured person could penalise the person who injured them to a similar degree. Luckily, early on as a chieftain, Ubba had realised greed often overtook revenge. Coin was handed over instead of violence. But the clash was often a long and tense one, with many attending the meeting baying for blood instead.

  “Why have we stopped, Sire?”

  Ubba narrowed his eyes against the spring sun. “It’s not starting yet, people are only just arriving.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You go in, Asmund, I have some things to do first.”

  “But, with respect. There are many unfamiliar faces here who have come to attend the thing. You could be in danger.”

  Ubba tapped his axe, then his dagger. “Do you think?”

  Asmund watched his sire’s hand before giving him a narrowed look. “All right. But don’t be long. I don’t want Gunnar chairing the thing. He’ll have everyone killed.”

  Ubba made a groaning sound to which Asmund laughed.

  “All right. I’ll search for you after. But, be aware. There are too many unfamiliar faces around today for my liking.”

  “I always am, Asmund. I always am.”

  Ubba watched Asmund go. He needed to seek out Gunnar and Astrid, but he had an overwhelming desire to see the Seer first. He looked for reassurance from the gods on his future. He would have sought her out before now, but she had only recently returned after wandering the country - she travelled wherever she was summoned, for a handsome price. Perhaps her return was an omen for him to see her? The woman’s predictions about the future might make him more comfortable, because, like it or not, his brother’s words of years ago, about Rosfrith being trouble, had come back to haunt him in his dreams. He had no doubt Rosfrith wouldn’t intentionally hurt him. But, what harm would it do him to verify it?

  He left the crowded market area behind, and Ubba stepped into the dark cottage of the Seer. Unfamiliar smells assaulted his nose. He hated coming to see her; he preferred to let the fates play out, but, with Rosfrith in his life, he wanted to know if she was safe.

  “Góðan dag. Lady Oracle, I need to speak to you,” he said. He stepped further into the room, batting away objects hanging from the ceiling.

  “I know,” came a gravelly voice from the corner of the room. “Sit.”

  Ubba made his way over and sat. “I need you to foresee my future.” He watched the Seer nod, most of her face covered by a hood. Not many people had seen her appearance, but those who had said her skin resembled the bark of a tree. Ubba didn’t care. Whatever her disabilities, she was strong and had a foresight no one could question.

  Whilst only a newborn, she had survived exposure to the elements when her parents rejected her due to her disabilities. When the previous soothsayer took her from the woods into her home, no one dared question the will of the gods.

  “Drink.”

  Ubba glanced at the potion she held out and shook his head. She snorted, but he didn’t change his mind. Henbane, a drug mixed with liquid, gave him violent hallucinations. The Seer used it to trigger visions, so he sat quietly while she drank. He waited patiently until her head dropped backwards and then snapped back. Her black eyes focused on him. He bent forward to get closer in order to hear her gravelly voice.

  “You must beware. Fear not what you can see; the ones behind stir the pot.”

  Ubba’s brow creased. The Seer’s warnings were never straightforward. Only when she read the runes could you ask her questions.

  “Trusts will be broken, lives lost, but love gained. There are shadows from afar blackening the future, but five eagles will soar above, finding the light.”

  Ubba listened as best he could to her, sometimes incoherent, mumblings. When the drug wore off, her actions became less erratic. She sat, head bowed, for a while before glancing back at him. She didn’t say anything, just reached for her bone runes. He watched her toss the runes a number of times, grunting or nodding periodically. He tried not to look at the extra finger she had on her right hand. His eyes flicked up when she stopped to glance at him before returning to the stones. When she sat back, her black eyes looked at him from under her hood. “What do you seek?”

  “Anything the gods choose for me t
o see. But, I will venture to ask, will I be blessed with offspring?”

  The Seer picked up the runes and cast them again. “Ay, I see five bodies –”

  Ubba smiled.

  “But, only three souls.”

  His brow creased and he scratched his cheek. “What does that mean?”

  “The gods know.” The soothsayer shrugged, sitting back and closing her eyes. “I can see three females on your life course. All will cause you great joy but also great sorrow. I cannot see who, but one will leave this world before a grey hair graces her head.”

  Ubba wrung his hands. He hoped she wasn’t referring to Rosfrith. He wanted her around forever.

  “Alas, the gods have finished allowing me to see your path. That is your destiny for now.”

  Ubba reached into the pouch on his belt and retrieved a gold trinket. The Seer was normally paid in coin, but it was the custom for the chieftain not to pay. The way he got around that was to give her a gift. As custom, the Seer ignored him when he placed it in front of her.

  “Góðan dag to you.” He stood and left the room. He wasn’t sure if his visit had alleviated his worries or just given him more to contemplate.

  #

  Astrid’s brow crinkled. She watched Ubba come out of the Seer’s cottage and make his way across the yard. She waited and checked to see if he was with anyone. He was alone and hadn’t noticed her in the shadows. When he passed, she stepped out, placing her hand on his arm, stopping him in his tracks.