“Good, now we must go and see Rolf, Leif told me that he’s not looking too good today.”
“Oh no, why didn’t you say earlier, I’d have gone to him straight away.” Sophie said, quickly washing her hands.
“From what Leif says he’s brought it on himself. Some of his friends visited him last night and he drank too much and was moving his arm, boasting that it was nothing.”
“Hmm, I told him not to move it, stupid boy, I’d better go and see him immediately.
Taking their leave of Ceolwen they hurried to Leif’s house, well Sophie hurried and the men strolled. Reaching the house well ahead of them she opened the door and recoiled at the stench that met her, sweaty men and stale beer fumes. Leaving the door wide open she went to the furs that Rolf was lying on, he was flushed, his eyes were dull and his lips were cracked and dry.
“You bloody idiot,” she swore, “what did you think you were doing, showing off like a little boy instead of behaving like a sensible adult?”
Rolf growled “Watch your tongue slave or you’ll feel my belt.”
Eirik and Leif had entered in time to hear Sophie tell him off and his reply.
“Watch your tongue boy,” Eirik growled “you don’t threaten my healer if you know what’s good for you. She’s right, you are an idiot child, a warrior would do what he could to help himself heal, ready to get back to his duties, not indulge himself showing off to other children!”
Rolf scowled and went even redder. “She is impertinent Lord, I didn’t know you were with her. If she’d healed me properly I wouldn’t still be sick, she blames me to excuse herself.”
“Silence” Eirik roared, “a child blames others, not a man. You apologise to my slave or we’ll leave you to die in agony.”
Rolf set his lips and glared at Sophie.
“Come” Eirik said to her, “leave him to heal himself if he can.”
As she hesitated he growled “Now, slave.” And she obeyed him and went to join him at the door.
Leif said “I’m not having him raving here, I’ll get a couple of his friends to take him to Ubbe’s hall.”
“No please” Rolf said “please let me stay here. I apologise to your slave, Lord. The fever has addled my mind.”
Eirik turned back “Indeed you have an addled mind, this is your last chance, you will do as the healer tells you and will treat her with respect. Understood?”
“Yes Lord.”
“Good, now Sophie if you can save this boy’s life and arm he will be grateful. Won’t you boy?”
“Yes Lord, I’m sorry Sophie. Please do what you can to help me.” Rolf pleaded finally realising what he could lose.
Taking the bandage off his arm Sophie swore under her breath, some of the stitches had torn through the skin and pus was oozing out. Instead of the edge of the wound looking pink and healthy like Eirik’s it was grey and unhealthy looking. By moving his arm, showing how tough he was to his friends he’d pulled the stitches loose and allowed the infection to start up again.
As she cleaned the wound Sophie realised that she had no idea how to stop the infection from spreading, Rolf was either going to lose his arm or his life. Taking Eirik to one side she explained as well as she could that his arm was poisoned again, and this time just cleaning it probably wouldn’t help.
Eirik nodded “Do what you can, no one will blame you if you can’t save him.”
“I think I need Ceolwen’s help, could you get her for me?”
Eirik sent the slave who’d been looking after Rolf to fetch Ceolwen and then sat by the fire with Leif. When she arrived Sophie explained what had happened to Rolf’s wound and the healer shook her head.
“Stupid boy, it’s in the hands of their gods now.”
“But there must be something we can do.” Sophie insisted, unwilling to give up.
“Well we could try a comfrey and plantain poultice. You’d have to leave the wound open where he’s pulled the stitches out so that the poultice could touch the poisoned skin. If he survives he’ll have a scar and a weak arm.”
“Anything’s worth trying, have you got comfrey and plantain?”
“Yes” Ceolwen laughed, “I brought it with me when Ubbe’s slave told me what was wrong. Right I’ll need some bread and honey to bind the poultice together.”
Sophie suddenly remembered, didn’t penicillin come from bread mould? So she sent the slave to Ubbe’s kitchen to get some stale mouldy bread and some honey.
“Let’s give him regular doses of the willow bark tea we made, it’ll ease the pain and I think it might help with the inflammation.”
“Good idea” Ceolwen said as she took a crude pestle and mortar out of her basket and started to crush the comfrey and plantain leaves. Sophie gave Rolf a dose of the willow bark tea and then set about removing any useless stitches and cleaning the pus away from the wound with the garlic and leek mixture. By the time the wound was clean the slave was back with the bread and a tiny piece of honeycomb.
“Is that all the honey you could get?” Sophie asked.
“I had to say it was for Thegn Eirik to get that!”
“Oh, alright, it’ll have to do.” She’d forgotten how precious honey was in this century, especially in the winter.
She picked over the bread taking what she thought was the right mould and putting it in Ceolwen’s pestle, then they added the tiny bit of honey and moistened it with vinegar. It bound together well with the plantain and comfrey and they were able to make a thick poultice by spreading it onto a clean piece of linen. Ceolwen suggested that they squeeze as much of the pus out of the wound as they could, so despite Rolf’s cries of pain they squeezed the wound until fresh blood flowed, allowing it to bleed for a while in the hope that the blood would push out the infection. After they’d cleaned it again they applied the poultice, Rolf crying out as it touched the raw flesh. Ceolwen kept him still as Sophie bandaged it tightly into place.
“There” Sophie said, “that’s the best we can do. Keep that arm still, do as you are told and pray to your gods.”
Rolf was now subdued at the pain in his arm, he was feeling hot, weak and sick and it had finally sunk in that he was in serious trouble.
“Thank you, Sophie, Ceolwen” he said, “I’m sorry that I was stupid, I won’t do it again.”
“That’s all right” Sophie said but Ceolwen frowned at him and said “If you die it is your own fault.”
Eirik and Leif had been watching and Leif said “We have no choice about when we die. If Skuld decides to wield her shears then you are no more. Just pray that you die in battle, boy, with your sword in your hand, not by inches on a bed of furs.”
Sophie shook her head, unable to accept death as these barbarians did. When she died she wanted to be in a clean bed with white cotton sheets and as much pain killer as possible. After she’d explained to the slave how to cool Rolf down, Eirik insisted that she leave him and return to his house to wash for the nattmal. Leaving Ceolwen sitting at the table drinking a tankard of ale with Leif they set off to Eirik’s house. She grinned at him and said “I think those two like each other.”
“Eirik laughed “I don’t know about Ceolwen but Leif lusts after her. I’ve given him permission to have her, but only if she’s willing. She hates us Danes, understandable I suppose, as we killed her husband, but it was in a fair fight; the Saxons tried to kill us but we fought better. I have been kinder to her and the boy than I suspect her husband was but she is unwilling to give up her hatred.
“She may have loved her husband very much.”
“Love! A dead love will not feed you or keep you warm at night”
Sophie thought about that, then thinking how her ‘love’ for Calum had only led to him hurting her realised that in Eirik’s world he was probably right. “Leif won’t force her if she says no, will he?”<
br />
“She’s a slave, with no right to say no” Eirik growled, “but Leif doesn’t force himself on a woman he likes. He’s like me, likes to feel a woman’s body respond to him when he humps them. Ceolwen is used to having a man between her thighs so if she likes him at all he’ll win her.”
Realising that he wasn’t being coarse, just stating what he saw as natural, she didn’t react and they reached the house in silence.
***
When they got to Ubbe’s hall the talk was all about a patrol that had gone out early that morning and still hadn’t returned. As she joined Eirik, after the tables had been cleared away, he was deep in conversation with Ubbe. Wulf-pryor and Els-wythe had eaten with Sophie, Els-wythe still with a swollen lip and bruising on her face, and Wulf-pryor had told her that it had been Ivor’s men who had gone on patrol that morning. It was unusual for them not to have returned by dark or at least sent a messenger to tell Ubbe what they were doing. When she asked how many had gone out Wulf-pryor told her that thirty warriors were in the patrol, more than enough to take care of a band of the border people. However Ubbe was worried, it was unlike Ivor not to send word and he was consulting with Eirik whether to send a large patrol out, at first light, or just send a few trackers to find Ivor and his men.
If they sent a large patrol it would leave Weorgoranceastre poorly defended, but individual trackers would be easily killed by the Myrce. Deciding that it was more important to defend the city, Ubbe was sending a messenger to his father at Conecastre asking for reinforcements, and sending ten warriors out, as soon as dawn broke, to search for the lost patrol. When this had been decided upon Ubbe called an end to the evening’s games, and Eirik took his leave and walked with Sophie back to his house. Geri wasn’t waiting for them at the house and Alta said that he’d been restless all evening. Telling Sophie to go to bed, Eirik decided to check on the sentries stationed around the city, while he searched for his dog. Aware that he was concerned about the lost patrol and his dog, she couldn’t rest, so instead of undressing, she took a tankard of ale out to Alta and they sat by the meal fire sipping the ale and peering into the darkness. The night noises around the village appeared normal, the hoot of an owl, cry of a baby and the rumble of warriors talking in Norse. In the field, sheep and cattle sounded restless and occasionally a horse, stabled in the city, neighed. All those noises could be put down to a fox or wolf passing by, upsetting the beasts. The sentries on patrol in the field were extra vigilant but couldn’t see or hear anything untoward.
Finally Eirik returned with Geri trotting by his side. Sophie leapt up to greet him “Oh good, you found him, what was he up to?”
“Nothing really, he was sitting on the little hill behind the city sniffing the air and gazing into the distance.”
“Do you think there’s something out there?”
“It’s difficult to say, there are no strange noises or smells and the sentries are vigilant. Perhaps there are wolves passing by or even a band of Myrce sneaking about. Come it’s time we were snug in the furs,” and he took her arm and led her into the house.
Inside he took her in his arms and kissed her deeply, and as her lips opened under his he stroked her tongue encouraging her to duel with him. Finally satisfied that he had her total surrender he lifted his head, loosened her belt, and grasping her tunic pulled it over her head. He kissed her again until she was limp in his arms then pulling her head back with her plait, trailed his lips down over her throat to the pulse in her neck. Satisfied that her body was responding to his kiss he carried on down to her breast. His hands cupped her firm mounds and as he squeezed and caressed them he took a pebbled nipple into his mouth and suckled. Sophie squealed and arched her breasts up for his attention, and while he suckled, his hands trailed down over her hips, and across her smooth belly, a finger trailing around her pert belly button. Grasping her trousers and loosening their ties he let them drop down to her knees. His lips followed his hands and a finger parted the curls in the valley of her thighs and sought her most sensitive nub. She was hot and wet and ready for him but he wanted her begging for him to take her, so his mouth followed his finger and as she gasped and trembled on weak legs, his tongue licked over her labia and finally found her entrance. As his tongue lanced into her Sophie screamed his name and her fingers tightened in his hair to balance herself. Holding the globes of her bottom tight Eirik laved her sex, his tongue lancing deeper and deeper, lapping up her essence, and she wondered how this man made this act so different to what she’d known before.
She was trembling so much she could hardly stand and he stood up lifting her with him and taking her to the furs, where he removed her trousers completely and opening her thighs continued to stroke her with his tongue. As an orgasm rolled through her he continued to lave her sex and she cried out unable to contain the feelings he was arousing in her. At last as she lay there like a rag doll, he shrugged off his clothes and lifting her bottom high knelt in front of her and entered her with one strong thrust. As he hit her core she screamed again, then as he withdrew she wrapped her legs around him and welcomed him in. Her body felt so right to him that he lost control and took her like the barbarian he was, taking both of them over the edge again and again.
When he collapsed beside her Sophie couldn’t find the energy to even open her eyes and fell into a deep sleep instantly. Eirik leaned on an elbow and traced the arch of her jaw with his finger, marvelling at her beauty and strength as he watched her face relax into a dreamless sleep. Then he too lay down, to sleep with one eye open.
Chapter 17
On the darkest hour of the night Eirik heard Geri give a low warning growl. The dog had been restless all night and Eirik had risen earlier, put on his clothes and opening the door had watched and listened intently. All had been calm, even the animals in the field being settled, so he had returned to the furs and lay down fully clothed next to Sophie, who was lying in a boneless heap, sated from his attentions of the night before. He had lain awake watchful for a while, but then he too had dozed and Geri’s growl had woken him instantly.
As he rose to his feet, sword grasped in his hand the dog’s warning rose to a blood curdling snarl, and his hind claws scrabbled against the door as he launched himself at whatever foe he had sensed.
With two strides Eirik was at the door, as Sophie woke with a start. “Get dressed,” was all he said before opening the door and hurtling through it, in time to see Geri on top of a man he had knocked to the ground, with his jaws around his throat. As the enemy raised his sword to club the dog, Geri bit down, the man’s shout turned to a gurgle and the dog shook his prey as if he were a rabbit. Another Myrce warrior was running to his comrade’s rescue, intent on killing the dog, when Eirik leapt out his sword swinging, taking the Myrce’s head off neatly. More Myrce appeared from the darkness and suddenly Eirik was fighting for his life. Much larger and stronger than the enemy warriors, he normally would have had no problem dealing with them, but his left arm was still not fully healed and he didn’t have a shield or his short sword. Geri was everywhere, defending his master’s back and ripping through flesh and bone, so wild and savage he barely noticed the lucky cuts that the enemy gave him.
Sophie had quickly thrown on her clothes, but hesitated to leave the house, she didn’t know what to do as she was no fighter and was worried that her presence might distract Eirik. Then she heard Alta scream and without a thought for her own safety, rushed out, in time to see a Myrce warrior, sword poised ready to strike at the cowering slave. Incensed that he should attack a helpless old woman, she picked up the nearest thing to hand, a water bucket, and hit him from behind. She’d put all her strength into it and was lucky enough to catch him on the side of his neck and jaw; he went down falling into the meal fire as Alta scrambled away and his clothes caught fire. Sophie rushed in and picked up the sword that he’d dropped as he lost consciousness, and, closing her eyes thrust it into his back. Alta had regained her cou
rage and between them they rolled him, still burning, away from the house.
Eirik and Geri were holding their own, but both were tiring and Sophie was terrified that one or both would be killed. Leaving Alta to smother the embers that had splashed out of the fire when the Myrce fell on it, she grasped the sword and darted out, intent on protecting Eirik’s back. Astonished that a woman would do that, he growled “Don’t get in my way,” as he slowly backed towards the house.
Surrounded by half a dozen Myrce, Eirik roared his battle cry and dared them to attack. Knowing that he’d already killed many of their comrades the Myrce hesitated, then Leif appeared behind them and the fight was on again. The two powerful Danes and Geri slaughtered their enemy mercilessly, fighting like two berserkers and almost terrifying them to death. Two of the Myrce turned tail and ran, only for one to be brought down by Geri and the other by Leif’s war axe. As the two Danes stood in front of the house gasping for breath, the noise of battle from the city could be heard, and Eirik turned to Leif and asked “How has the village faired?”
Leif grimaced “Many are dead, but some managed to escape. Ceolwen and Caena are hiding in the woods beyond the stream and others have joined them.”
“Mmph, the Saxons will take the opportunity to escape, but will be easy to round up when we’ve dealt with the Myrce. Thor’s beard! I forgot about Rolf.” Eirik said looking towards Leif’s house.”
“He’s dead, Ubbe’s slave too. But he died with his sword in his hand, I found him outside my house alongside two dead Myrce. He’ll be feasting in Valhalla now.”
Eirik nodded “A better death than he might have had. I gather you were at Ceolwen’s?”
Leif grinned “Yes, she’s not as cold as you told me she was.”
“Do you want to buy her?”
“I just saved your life” Leif growled, “and you’d take my gilt.”
It was Eirik’s turn to grin “War’s war, but trade is a different thing altogether.”
Goldhill's Treasure Page 20
