by Lee Savino
“So if I tame him, you will let us go?” I asked my dark-haired captor the next day. He seemed in a playful mood, presenting my breakfast with a flourish, calling me “milady.” He even brought me flowers. As if I could be charmed by a few blooms.
“Perhaps,” he said with a wolfish grin. “Perhaps you will not want to go.”
My glare spoke my answer. He just laughed.
I rose to my feet, cheeks ruddy with anger. “You must take me to my sisters. I want to see for myself that they are safe and well cared for.”
“My men are keeping them safe. I visited them just before dawn, and I give you my word--”
“I do not care for the word of a man who’s chained me in the lair of a beast. You have no honor.”
His smile fled, leaving a cold look on his rawboned face.
“Tread lightly, little witch.”
“Do not call me that.”
He stalked forward, and the emptiness in his eyes sent me scrambling backwards, despite my vow not to be cowed so easily.
He flicked a gaze up and down my body and I clutched the robe closer. A frightening stillness came over him, a deadly predator gazing at his quarry. He waited for me to look away first.
“That is good anger, Sabine. Use it to do your work.”
When he turned away, I scrubbed useless tears from my face.
“Wait.” I made my voice desperate enough for him to heed. “I may have some skill with herbs, but what does a simple village girl know of taming monsters? What must I do?”
“If I knew what to do, don’t you think I would’ve tried it? The prophecy told of a woman who would tame the beast within.”
“I don’t know how to heal a hurt I don’t understand. At least tell me what he is.”
Seating himself across from me, he adopted the rolling tones and mannerisms of a bard. His deep voice told the tale perfectly, and I wondered if he’d spent time at court before he became a warrior.
“There once was a king called Harald Fairhair who wished to rule all of the Northern Way, now called Norway. To defeat the jarls--the earls and chieftains--he hired a witch to make his best warriors more powerful. She cursed them, and Changed them all into Berserkers--warriors who fight with mindless rage, killing everything in their path. They rush into battle wearing only animal skins, and swords and axes do not harm them. None can stand against them.” Lost in the story, Maddox’s eyes glowed with an unearthly light.
I swallowed, remembering the giant paw print. “So Ragnvald and his men are Berserkers....they can turn into wolves?
“Not just a wolf. There is a third form, between wolf and man--a true monster. In this form, Ragnvald and his warriors fought and put Harald Fairhair on the throne. But that power comes with a price. The magic eats the mind, and after a while, there is nothing but rage.”
He blinked once or twice, and came back into himself. “Ragnvald and his Berserker pack came to this island as mercenaries, where I came to meet them. For almost a century, the beast was pleased with the endless cycle of fighting for greedy kings, but when peace came, we learned the extent of the curse.” His voice turned bitter. “We can defeat armies and lay them to waste, but the beast that makes us great warriors craves bloodshed. During the Berserker rage, we do not know friend from foe.”
After a pained silence, he continued. “There is no normal life for us. The pack has strict rules to keep the rage from breaking out, but even then we have no home, no family. We cannot risk it. As our leader, Ragnvald held the pack together, but over the years his control has slipped. And when he falls...”
“The beast will take control of his mind completely, and the whole pack will lose control?”
“If you need to fear, Sabine, fear the day the beast consumes us. It will be the end of days.”
A chill swept through me at his bleak tone. If this battle hardened warrior was afraid, then what hope did I have?
“But...what can I do?”
“The prophecy only spoke of bringing you here. It did not tell what you would or wouldn’t do.”
I hit the ground. “That does not help me. You tell me we all might die? You kidnap my sisters to force me to help--and then...what? What am I to do?”
He shrugged.
I bit my tongue before I enraged him again, but as soon as he’d left for the day, I scraped a handful of sand from the floor of the cave and I flung the gravel in his direction. He wanted magic? I’d show him what Sabine, herb peddler from a small village, could do. When he saw how little power I actually had, he would have to free me and let me leave.
A part of me whispered that, even if I failed, he would never let me go.
Pushing that thought away, I marched to the large bed, took up the stinking pelts, and flung them as far as I could, towards the mouth of the cave. I dumped the water over the great flat rock that had served as a bed, to wash it clean. Maddox returned to me scrubbing it with a rag.
“I need my herbs. And hot water, lots of it.” I raised my chin at his frown. “You want me to do my work? Give me what I ask.”
After a moment’s pause he bowed his head and left, returning with my pack. I hesitated before taking it, even though I was glad to see a familiar item. Seeing my personal things in Maddox’s large hands made my captivity real again.
I ignored him as I took stock of all my herbs. Maddox busied himself, carrying away the dirty pelts. When he was done, I told him I needed a way to boil water, and he disappeared again.
While he was gone, I laid out herbs that I would burn to purify the air. The cave would be cleansed, not just of mold and vermin, but of evil spirits, lurking in the shadows. When Ragnvald came to me again, the cave would smell like a woman had been here. It would smell like a home.
Late in the day, Maddox returned with a giant iron pot. He set it directly on the fire, and filled it with several trips to the stream with two buckets hanging from a yoke. Not once did he complain about doing women’s work.
I supposed I should be grateful for that, though I’d rather be unchained. He did move the chain’s anchor closer to the fire so I could make use of the water.
By the time night fell, I’d scrubbed the dais, and Maddox had laid fresh deerskin and pelts over it. Dried sage and a few beeswax candles burned in four corners at the mouth of the cave and behind the bed. The smoke mingled with the smell of the stew Maddox made.
With all my labors, I fell asleep as soon as I’d filled my stomach.
I woke, feeling snug and warm. Maddox had bundled me in the bear rug, and laid me on the fresh bedding. Silky fur tickled my cheek. I raised my head, and went still.
At the end of the bed, a shadowy figure sat hunched facing the fire. He was long and lean, thinner than a warrior should be, but that didn’t diminish the powerful frame of his body. The low light of the fire gleamed in his blond hair.
“Ragnvald?” I whispered.
He turned hollow eyes to me, deep pits that burned gold.
I swallowed my fear. “Welcome, my lord.”
He stood and loomed over the bed, naked but for a ragged deerskin slung around his hips and falling to mid thigh. Ragnvald was the tallest man I’d ever seen, taller even than Maddox. His hair was pure gold, sunnier than mine, hanging in unwashed clumps that reached to his shoulders.
My heart tripped as his shadow cut across me. I waited in silence, but he only turned and strode back into the darkness deep in the cave. A clinking sound drew my eyes to one bare ankle, and in shock I realized he also wore a chain.
*
“You chained him.” I confronted Maddox at dawn. I’d risen and refreshed the herbs, and added wood to the dying fire. The tattooed warrior arrived soon after with more wood for the fire, and though he didn’t smile I could tell he approved of my work. “He came to me last night, wearing a shackle like me.”
“Not like you. His chain is longer, and fixed far, far back in the cave. You have a shorter leash.”
I scowled at his jesting tone.
“The meta
l binding him is also warded by a witch. When he exiled himself, we took every precaution to keep him from wandering during his fits and ravaging all he meets. It won’t hold him forever.”
Shivering, I rubbed my arms, and wondered if I would ever sleep easy in this cave again.
“Have no fear, Sabine. He grows more himself, and less dangerous, every hour you are here.”
“Who was he before the Change?” I remembered the regal poise in the way Ragnvald stood, the power in his gaze when he looked at me.
“A leader. Son of a great warrior, in a long line of lords. He would have been a fine ruler, if not for the curse.”
I paced back and forth, tracing my late night visitor’s steps as far as my chain allowed. “Tell me about the madness.”
“The wolf and man work together. But the beast is pure hunger, pure rage. And it is not easily controlled. A century or two of fighting the urge, and even the strongest man grows weary.”
“How can I help?”
“You already are. I have not seen Ragnvald in man form for several moons. Two nights, and he is sitting and eating like a man.”
He pointed and I realized the dishes I’d left clean were now dirty. Ragnvald had touched the stew.
“Do you think he can be saved?”
“I do not know. But if anyone can do it, it’s you.”
*
I prepared all day, and when evening fell, I was ready. The fire burned higher, the smoke sweeter from the mulberry branches we’d added. I’d fussed over the stew and added precious spices that made Maddox hum with pleasure he tasted them. Candles burned in the corners of a wide square around the bed, and I’d strewn the bed with lavender.
“If we treat Ragnvald like a beast, perhaps he has no reason to be more,” I told Maddox. “I will treat him like a man.”
Lying on the bed, I waited, staring at the fire. I must have dozed, for when I woke, Ragnvald sat on a rock not twenty paces from where I slept.
Slowly, I sat up. “Good evening my lord.”
As before, he did not speak, but his eyes looked less sunken and he seemed less likely to bolt. I rose, moving carefully as if the smallest tremor would disturb him. “I hope you are pleased by the changes in your home,” I murmured. I took two steps and stopped, letting the firelight caress my silhouette. I’d prepared myself as carefully as the cave.
I’d bathed earlier, using the water heated on the fire after I’d sent Maddox away. The herbs in the water left my skin and hair soft and sweetly scented. I’d left off the heavy overdress, and wore only a light shift, freshly washed and scented like my body. My feet were bare and I’d left my hair unbound.
When I faced Ragnvald again, his hungry expression told me my instincts were good. This was a man used to finer things--women and lodgings and meals with the kings he turned into conquerors. Perhaps, this night, he would remember the life he’d lost.
I lowered my gaze against his searching one.
“Allow me to welcome you properly. There is food if you want to eat, mead if you want to drink. I am happy to serve you in any way you wish.” I swallowed against the lump in my throat. Even I wasn’t sure how much I was prepared to offer this fallen warrior.
Ragnvald still said nothing, but after a moment he stood as if waiting for me to lead him.
“First, my lord, perhaps you’d like to bathe.”
A great stone tub sat next to the fire--a slab hollowed enough for a man to sit submerged to his waist. When I’d explained what I wanted,Maddox had grumbled, but he’d gone and returned with the carven stone. He didn’t tell me where he’d gotten it, and I didn’t ask. Watching him carry the giant slab, muscles rippling under the strain, had been an awesome sight.
“Vikings do not bathe,” Maddox had complained on his seventh trip bearing buckets from the stream.
“Ragnvald left his home long ago,” I had pointed out. “If he is fit to be a ruler--”
“He is, when he is well,” Maddox assured me.
“Then it is time he assumed his noble role.”
Maddox raised a brow, as if to say, “Here? In this cave?”
“I cannot bring him to court. So I will bring court to the cave,” I replied primly. That silenced Maddox, at least for a little while. Now I would discover if our work had been in vain.
Bowing, I swept my hand out to usher him forward. “After you, Lord Ragnvald.”
I hid a triumphant smile as the lean warrior went to the bath. Busying myself with the extra buckets of water, I waited until the clink of chain told me he was lowering himself into the tub. Only when he was safely submerged did I approach.
The carven stone was massive enough to fit his folded form, though one well-muscled arm lay down the side.
“If you please, I will add more hot water.” I lifted the bucket and waited for his nod. The fresh water had a few sprigs of herbs in it. After I poured, he caught one and played with it while I worked up my courage to continue.
“Soapwort.” I showed him the white blossoms before I crushed them in my hands and made a foam. “I will use them to clean your arms. May I touch you?”
I tried to keep my voice light and strong, and maybe I succeeded, but my words splintered in my mind. Ragnvald held my gaze in his overpowering one for a long moment; I gritted my teeth and forced myself not to look away. He nodded again, and I dropped my eyes. Still moving slowly, mimicking the gentle grace my older sister Brenna had always had, I moved closer, and touched his arm.
In a flash, his hand moved and captured my wrist, not hurting but firm enough to send a tremor through me.
“If you please, my lord, I can bathe you.”
He stared through me, eyes wild. I prayed then that he would see me, a simple woman clad only in a light shift, barefoot as a slave and ready to wait upon him. Innocent. Defenseless. Without guile. I had no weapons, no way to bind him, not even a thong to draw back my hair.
“Please,” I licked my lips. “I only mean to help.”
His grip tightened and he pulled me closer. I went without a fight. He could snap my neck at any point, and even if I shrank away, a two-foot chase would barely delay my death. I held my breath as Ragnvald’s fingers slid to shackle my forearm, and back down to bracelet my wrist. My own arm looked so fragile in his strong, fine-boned hand. He stroked the smooth skin over my pulse with surprising care, and for a moment I saw what this rank creature was--a man, ravaged by time, but starting to return to his senses.
When he let go to rest his arm on the rim of the bath, I took a deep breath and started to wash him. I gave myself over to the meditative movement, touching him. At my request he submerged himself, and came up dripping. Grime fell away under my bold ministrations. I tried to pretend he was a statue I’d been ordered to clean, but the subtle rise and fall of the warm chest under my hand made me tremble. The battle-hardened muscle would’ve been flawless if not for the raised ridges of old scars. I couldn’t help but trace one terrible weal on his side, and imagine the great sword that had made it. Whatever enemy Ragnvald had faced that day, he’d come out a victor, and this scar was a badge of honor, proof that this time-ravaged warrior was glorious in his prime. Even now, naked and folded into the stone bath, he lounged as if used to being bathed by a servant. But for the chain, he could be a king.
I kept my gaze lowered, but I felt his drinking me in. When I leaned over the bath to wash his chest, his fingers came to trace my collarbone, dipping under the shift to stroke that sensitive bone above my breasts. When I retreated, Ragnvald’s hand followed, drifting down my shoulder, exploring the line of my arm. As I worked around him, not once did his hand leave me. His elegant fingers played over my skin, stealing my focus, making my breath ragged.
I hadn’t been touched like that in a long time.
In a hoarse voice, I said, “If you lean forward, I can wash your back.”
He did as I asked, and as I bent, I glanced down and realized how the water had molded my clothes to my body. I’d worn only the shift to show I had
no weapons, but now I realized I might as well be naked.
When the movement of my hand slowed, Ragnvald turned. I took an automatic step back, but he only took the soapwort, and started to scrub his legs. I lathered his hair, washing it thoroughly, relieved that he didn’t make me see to all of him. This was a dangerous game I was playing with an unstable man. I must have been mad, offering myself up on a platter to a brutal warrior who hadn’t seen a woman in a long, long time. It would be nothing for him to drag me down to the sandy cave floor, take what he wanted, and snap my neck when he was done. I was still caught in the maw of a monster, and I needed to remember it, no matter how pretty he was.
The second my fingers left his soapy hair, he submerged himself. I backed away as he rinsed briskly and rose up out of the bath. Water poured off his powerful form. I couldn’t stop myself from staring at him, at all of him freshly washed and naked in his glory. My face reddened, but I reminded myself I was a bold woman. I’d lain with men, seen them bathing naked. There was no shame in this.
But my heart pounded faster as he came towards me.
“I should rinse you,” I whispered. “There’s more heated water, if you desire it.”
The cool night air made pebbles of my nipples. Ragnvald’s fingers danced at the collar of the wet drape I wore, and I stopped breathing. When he tugged apart the knot that secured the shift at my shoulders, I let the garment fall and made no move to cover myself. Heat washed through me. I was as naked as him, but he stood boldly, while I felt feminine and vulnerable.
He moved around me to take up the two cloths I’d laid out to dry him. Once he’d wrapped one drying cloth around his waist, he returned and wrapped the second around me.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Ragnvald lifted my chin and regarded me. My lips parted, waiting, wanting even, but when he bent, he angled my head so his lips only brushed my cheek.
*
Dawn’s light mottled the furs when I woke surrounded by the silky pelts. My hair was damp, proof that the night with Ragnvald wasn’t a dream. I’d washed him, he’d dried me and led me to bed. After the kiss, he’d tucked me in and watched over me, looking like the pale statue I’d pretended he was. I must have fallen asleep, because I didn’t remember him slipping away.
