“Any one of them can leave me if she wants. And some have. They’ve found men who will marry them and I wish them well.”
“And do you think that makes them feel better, to know you felt so little for them that it didn’t bother you when they left?”
He wiped his hand over his face. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt a woman. Any woman. Had he been doing that all along? He pushed away from the wall and walked toward the table.
“Rorik, why don’t you speak to Elfwynn? Test the depths of the waters, so to speak.”
“I’m not looking for a wife. You know why.” He sat across from Eirik.
“So you’ll not risk passing on your father’s blood. But you’re not your father. If you were, it would have shown up by now.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know if you don’t see to your legacy, Vargfjell and its people will fall into another’s hand. The jarls of Lade, any number of petty kings, Halfdan, or someone worse.” Eirik poured more beer into their cups.
“Then I need someone who will be strong enough to stand at my side. And strong enough to deal with me.”
“You’re right. Not someone who is intelligent, beautiful, talented, and can be an asset to Vargfjell. Whom its people have already fallen in love with, and who can stand toe to toe with a feared Northman who has faced off against kings and pirates all over the world. A woman of strength, conviction, and pride. If everything you’ve told me about her is correct, that is. No, Rorik, you don’t need a woman like that. Like everything Elfwynn is.” He raised his cup to Rorik and took a drink.
“She despises me and I don’t blame her. All she wants from me is to take her to Hedeby.”
“So you’re not even going to speak to her about it? Just let her slip through your fingers? This is a first. I’ve never seen you give up something you wanted.”
“And you’ve never seen me go back on my word. It’s part of what earns me the respect I have. You’re right. There are two sides of leadership. It’s as hard as the iron grip, and as soft as the spoken word. To my people, my family, my warriors, I’ve always kept my promises. Just words. But they are as binding as chains and in this, I have no choice.
“For her sake, and for my own, I’m letting her go.”
* * *
“I’m going to kill him.”
Asa stood caressing her seax, a glint in her eye.
“Now, Asa.” Lifa took hold of her wrist and pulled her hand from the hilt. “Elfwynn’s a Christian and that’s not what they do. At least, not the women. Usually. She might not understand it if you slay the man she—” Lifa smiled. “The man she might be a bit fond of.”
Heat rose in Elwynn’s cheeks. Lifa projected a calmness around her. She listened, not just with her ears, but with her soul. She was a pagan priestess, and the Church would say she was damned and in league with the devil. But surely that could not be right. No one who was evil could be so kind, so understanding. Elfwynn bit her lip. She’d blurted out far more than she’d meant to when Lifa had asked her about why she was with Rorik.
“I don’t want to cause a family rift. Even if I were fond of him, as you say, I won’t be one of many.”
Asa beamed at her as she sat back down at the table. “Now you’re talking like a shieldmaiden.”
“I don’t mean to.” She ducked her head, then looked up at Asa with a slight smile. “But Kaia did show me how to use a knife to defend myself.”
“I knew I liked her,” Asa said. “She should have also taught you that if you want something, you must take it.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. Not with Rorik. I’m a Christian, and he’s . . . not.”
Asa snorted. “My mother was a Christian from Ireland and my father was a raider. He took her for ransom, as Rorik did you, but fell in love with her. Her ransom became her dowry. They lived very well together until he died while on a trading voyage, and then she returned to her homeland.”
Lifa gave her a beautiful, gentle smile. “So you see, it can happen. And it does. More often than people think.”
“Perhaps. If both of them want it. Even if I did, and I’m not saying I do, he doesn’t. All I want is to put this behind me.”
Lifa and Asa looked at each other. Lifa sighed. “You must find your own way, Elfwynn. If it is meant to be, then events will align that way.”
Asa frowned. “Lifa—”
“No, Asa. It is the way of the wyrd, the fate. Or, in Elfwynn’s case, the will of her god. Either way, it is not ours to interfere with.”
“I’d like to interfere. With a shield cracked across his foolish head.” Asa slumped back in her chair, arms crossed, her dark brown eyes flashing.
“Asa, not everything can be solved with violence.” Lifa gave her a hard look.
“No, but it helps. Fine. I won’t interfere.” She sat up. “But if we can pay the ransom—”
“No.” Elfwynn shook her head. “I don’t know how much a longship is, but it must be a great deal of gold. I won’t be beholden to you. You have a village and people to support here and I won’t have all that money wasted on me. The Church is large, wealthy. I’m one of its children. It cares for its own.”
But if she could find a way, the Church wouldn’t have to spend its money on her either.
“I hope, Elfwynn, you’ll understand him one day.” Lifa looked down, but her pain was evident. “Even with all I tried to do for them, Rorik and his sisters have much darkness still within them. Their tale is one they each must tell if they wish to. It is not for me to do so.” She rose. “Eirik and Rorik must be finished with their talk by now, and the meal we ordered prepared will be served soon. Elfwynn, I’m certain, would like some time in the sauna. There’s still a long journey ahead of her.”
Something in the way Lifa said the words made Elfwynn study the rune mistress. Was she speaking of the coming voyage to Hedeby? Or did she mean something else altogether? Lifa only held out her hand and she took it. Together, they walked out into the main hall. Eirik and Rorik were standing by the hearth, speaking with other men. They were both so fine looking, tall and powerful. There could be no doubt they were warriors.
Rorik glanced at the knife hanging below Asa’s belt and appeared uncertain. Did he suspect they’d spoken about him? Eirik and he certainly had other things to speak of besides her. She was of little importance to him except as a means to an end, as he had said.
Asa went to Eirik and drew him aside. They spoke together so low she couldn’t hear them, but Asa wasn’t happy. For some reason, Eirik didn’t appear pleased either.
Probably the talk of war had them concerned. He and Rorik, and quite likely Asa, would go to battle, and in battle people died. If Rorik fell in the coming war, she would never know it. Although the Northmen lived to fight, they still had to be concerned about those they loved.
She glanced at Rorik. In that, her people and his were very much alike.
The trading town of Hedeby
Schlei Fjord, Denmark
As they passed through the narrow strait from the fjord into the Haddeby Nor inlet, Elfwynn leaned over the side of the bow to better see the town. Rows of narrow streets ran from the shoreline into the buildings. Wooden houses lined the roads, so close their thatched roofs almost touched. It was the largest place she’d ever seen. Galinn had told her there were nearly a thousand people living there and it was one of the biggest markets in the northern lands. She couldn’t imagine so great a population.
The men had furled the sail to steer into the bay, using only the oars to bring them into the piers. They pulled them in when they glided close, and men on the dock threw them lines.
“Rorik of Vargfjell.” One of the men on the docks greeted him when Rorik jumped off. “What brings you here? Trading and not raiding, I hope.”
Rorik laughed. “With only one ship? Just honest trading, I promise you, Rothmarr. Have to stay on Horik’s good side.”
“That lover of the White Christ.” Rothmarr bared his teeth and lowe
red his voice. “They say he converted. If that’s the case, his days might be numbered.”
“Even if it’s so, he might have done it to better deal with the Christian merchants and kings. They don’t like to do business with those who have different gods than they do. His lands are very exposed to other countries and it might have been expedient, for the Christians sometimes hesitate to attack one of their own. Besides, if he does fall, his family will tear itself apart. I’m not certain that’s a good thing.”
Elfwynn listened as she stood on the bow. If the king of the Danes was a Christian, he might help her. If she could find him. Was he even here in Hedeby? She’d have to get off the ship to ask someone. Perhaps when Rorik went to the church, she could slip away.
In spite of what she’d said to Lifa about the Church paying her ransom, she didn’t want to be the cause of such an outlay of gold. If she could get away, hide, and go to a sanctuary where she’d find help, the Church wouldn’t have to pay. Then she could use her silver and the tiny bit of gold she had to buy passage back home.
As his men tied the ship to the dock, he jumped back on and came to her. “I want you to stay here. I’m going to find the church and speak to them.” He searched her eyes. “If this is what you want.”
She looked away from him, focusing on the water. “It is. You want your money and I want my freedom. This gives us both what we desire.”
He lingered for a moment. Would he ask her to stay with him? To reconsider and go back with him to Vargfjell? Instead, he left the ship, striding toward the town. She watched him until he disappeared between two buildings.
He was so much taller than the other men, so much more powerful, beautiful . . . Everything. Life blazed from him as though his gods had poured their own spirits into him. It made him desirable and completely beyond her reach. She would never be enough for him, so this was for the best. She’d not waste her life weeping for a man as her mother had.
It took some time, but eventually all the crew had gone ashore, carrying the cargo they were going to trade. Some of them stood on the beach, speaking with merchants. Others went farther into the town, no doubt to look for items they wanted. This might be her only chance.
She’d brought all the beautiful dresses and gifts Oslafa and the people of Vargfjell gave her, but such things would only weigh her down. The Church would see to her needs. After checking to see if she had her money and the knife Kaia had given her, she wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. It hid the dress she wore so she could remain less conspicuous if anyone saw her from a distance.
Lord, protect me. Keep me hidden from those who will seek me. Guide me to where I may rest in your light once again.
She climbed onto the pier. No one called out to her, so she raised the blanket over her head like a scarf, letting it drape around her. There were other ships tied to the pier, so she might have come from any of them. If she ran, it would only call attention to her, so she walked at a steady pace until she got to the shore. A raised wooden walkway ran most of its length, and beyond that stood the buildings. She made it to the walkway and turned from where Rorik’s men bartered some distance away.
Planks formed the streets and she picked the closest one. Breathing a bit easier once she got into the shelter of the buildings, she merged with a crowd of people who were moving into the town. She couldn’t speak to just anyone. Rorik was too well known and people might remember her if he asked about a foreign woman alone, looking for the church.
She wandered down more streets than she could remember, looking behind her each time she made a turn. A small waterway ran through the town, and as she crossed the bridge over it, she saw the robes of a priest. He was headed away from her. Her heart pounding, she ran the rest of the way across, then skirted merchant booths and animal pens until she caught up to him.
“Father.” She touched his shoulder and he turned. He was a portly, tonsured man, with a kind, round face. “The Northmen took me.” She panted, speaking in her own language. “They want to ransom me to the Church here, but I got away. I seek sanctuary.”
His eyes widened. “Of course, my child. Come with me. Quickly. We’re not far.”
She followed him through the streets, glancing over her shoulder, expecting to see Rorik striding after her. But the streets were clear. Perhaps God had heard her prayer.
The church stood just ahead of them. A cross rose above the staved roof and she’d never seen anything so beautiful. Sanctuary. While Northmen might pillage the churches of other lands, surely they wouldn’t invade this one, where even the king was Christian.
The priest slid to a halt and she nearly careened into him. She peered around him, her pulse pounding in her throat.
Rorik blocked the way, his sword unsheathed, six of his men flanking him. She glanced behind her. More of them blocked her escape in the narrow street. There was no place for her to go.
“Is this the Northman who took you, my child?” The priest kept his eyes on Rorik.
“Yes, Father. He’s the one.”
The priest drew himself up. “Stand aside. You’ll not have this precious lamb of God. She seeks sanctuary.”
“But she’s not at the church yet, priest. And no building will keep me from taking what is mine, no matter what symbol you put on top of it.”
“You risk the fires of hell. Let us pass.”
“Then your god will have to grapple with Odin for me when I die and ascend to Valhalla. Give the woman to me. I have no wish to harm you.”
“I cannot allow a child of God to fall into the hands of pagans.” He stood firm as Rorik advanced and placed the tip of his sword at his throat. The priest trembled, but didn’t waver. A crowd had gathered around them, murmuring and staring.
How had Rorik known she was gone so soon? She looked at him and he locked her in his gaze. His eyes were the steel of his sword blade’s edge, his color high, and he clenched his jaw. He was livid.
“What will it be, Elfwynn?” His voice was rough and deep. “Come with me, or have the death of this priest on your soul?”
The priest swallowed. “My death will be on your soul, Rorik of Vargfjell. Along with a multitude of others. So many, I think God Himself has lost count. Yes, I know who you are. And so will your King Horik.”
“He’s not my king and your God is not mine.” He pressed the tip of the blade closer.
“Father, don’t.” She grabbed his sleeve. She couldn’t let this brave man of God die for her.
Rorik backed off a step, lowering his sword, and the priest turned to her, a drop of blood at his throat. “I would give my life to see you out of their filthy hands.”
She shook her head, her eyes filling. “If he kills you, they’ll still take me. I can’t allow it. I’ll go with him. Please, Father. I couldn’t live with knowing you died for me.”
He gave her a tremulous smile. “It is no less than our Savior did. Still, I’ll honor your wishes. You are truly a child of God. I’ll go to our bishop. He’ll know what to do.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“I’ll pray for you every day.”
She tried to smile as she glanced toward the seething Northman. “I’ll need it, I fear.”
He blessed her, then faced Rorik. “May God curse you, Rorik of Vargfjell, if you harm this woman. The prayers of all of us here will follow her to your land.”
Rorik inclined his head and stepped aside to let him pass. He hurried through the crowd, toward the church. She looked at it with longing. So close. But then, nothing would have stopped Rorik. He would have destroyed the building to get what he wanted. Always, what he wanted.
He pinned her in his glare. “I had just left the church when one of my men met me and told me you were gone. Imagine my delight. I waited here, knowing it was where you would go. You’re too predictable.”
“What did the Church say?” He’d been there, spoken to them. There was still hope.
That died as he shook his head. “They don’t have the kind of money I
need. There is no ransom.”
Chapter Nine
Dearest Lord, no. Her legs gave out and she crumbled as her world reeled. He caught her around the waist with his free arm, but she shoved away from him, shaking. “Then lower your price. Damn you, Rorik, you don’t need this money! You’re so wealthy, you could build an entire fleet and never feel the expense. Why are you so obsessed with this?”
“I’m not going to discuss this with you for everyone to hear while we stand in the street.” He sheathed his sword and grabbed her wrist. “We’re going back to the ship.”
Hatred, fear, and rage, red and searing, burst in her mind like a glass of boiling water shattering. Her muscles coiled and she swung, hitting him in the side of the head. He cursed and took both her wrists, hauling her to his chest. He didn’t hurt her, but she couldn’t wrench free.
He spoke through his clenched jaw. “All I have to show for my loss is you. You’re mine now. Accept it. I can do as I please with you and no one will stop me.”
She’d never known him like this. He didn’t even seem to see her but looked through her, as though he saw another place, another time. This was what men, and even kings, feared—his legendary temper. The women of the village had whispered to her about it, warning her to never provoke it. And she just had.
“If I can’t sell you to the Church, then I’ll sell you as a slave. And likely get even more for you because of your virginity.” He put both her wrists in one hand and pulled her after him. His men split apart to let them pass, then followed him, their swords still unsheathed. She couldn’t look at them.
A sob tore from her. This wasn’t happening. Everyone swore he would never hurt a woman. Ever. But he wasn’t thinking any longer. Some said he could lose himself for days in the rage. He’d sink so deep, no one could find him until he came out of it on his own. Like a berserker. Except it came on him when something slammed into his emotions, something he cared about.
Certainly not her. This involved his burned ship and his wealth. It was all that meant anything to him.
Lord of the Seas Page 13
