Under A Viking Moon

by Tami Dee

  He knew the instant Katla was recognized because smiles turned to sneers and Kat, struggling to get to her feet, was pushed back down to the deck. Taking the warrior's own weapon from his sash, Leif slit the throat of her attacker.

  Leif kicked the dead man over and, expressionless, faced the crew.

  "No one lays a hand on her and lives," he roared. "She belongs to me and me alone."

  Davyn stepped forward. The smile he had but moments ago vanished. Now the handsome lines of his face were set and hard. Suspicion shone openly in his piercing blue gaze as he held his brother's eyes.

  "Why would you keep the wench alive, brother? Is it not enough that your search for her took you away from our shores for over a year? A year in which we thought you dead and tragedies abounded daily as a backlash to your absence? Now you would ask that we do not seek a just vengeance on her?"

  "Davyn, I am jarl. What I want, I will have. You yourself know that I have need of an heir. Regardless of this woman's devious heart and treacherous nature, she is my wife and she will thicken with my seed. In the meantime, it is a most fitting revenge to condemn the daughter of a jarl, a wench soft and used to having her every need cared for, to a life of slavery. She will be the lowest server in my house during my waking hours, and at night she will endure my bed until my seed is planted."

  David nodded his head. "Aye, it is a good plan," Davyn said. "And you are right, a life of slavery is a fitting punishment for the woman who stole you away from your people for so long."

  *****

  Kat knew that Leif just saved her life, but to what end? Although the other warriors nodded in agreement, they continued to look at her with loathing in their eyes.

  And if Leif thought that she would consent to having a child for revenge, then he really was out of his mind. And she most certainly wouldn't be spending the rest of her life as a slave. If Leif thought she would simply accept his terms, he could just think again.

  Kat would rather die than live the sort of life he had just decreed. She shivered in her soaking wet clothes, despite the brilliant sun beating down on the wooden deck.

  "Davyn, I am in need of some garments that do not bind and pinch with every breath I take," Leif said, peeling of his wet jeans and button down shirt.

  Kat was stunned when a moment later Leif stood on the deck of the ship completely naked, with at least a hundred men milling around.

  A boy not more than ten years old approached him, thrusting out clothing that looked almost identical to the clothes he had washed up in her time wearing.

  Leif pulled on a pair of long, fitted trousers that looked to be made of wool that was dyed such a dark purple that they appeared black. To her amazement, the trousers extended into foot coverings, reminding her of a pair of pajamas she wore as a child. She swallowed, and, for a moment, forgot she was soaking wet and freezing. Standing as he was, tall and proud, his broad chest bare, he didn't look anything at all like a child. In fact, despite everything, he looked incredibly sexy. She watched, fascinated, as he fumbled with the ties of his fly. It was cut into three separate pieces and Kat couldn't help but wonder if he would miss zippers.

  Next, he pulled on a knee-length, red wool under-tunic which was trimmed at the neck, wrists, and hem with complex wool tablet-weaving patterned with beasts of various descriptions in yellow, red and black. She knew from watching her Amma for hours on end while she worked with her own authentic weaving machines, that the work displayed and worn so confidently had taken considerable skill and time to make. Kat suddenly regretted that she had never mastered the art her Amma had patiently tried to teach her.

  The boy handed him another, thinner garment, and he waved it away, taking from him instead what she guessed was the equivalent of an overcoat. It, too, looked to be made of wool, a dark blue, decorated at the neck again with tablet-woven wool bands patterned with animals. A silver clasp at the neck glinted in the sunlight as he attached the ends of the coat together. His brother then handed him a sword. Its double edged blade looked deadly and unforgiving. Leif nodded his thanks, then stooped down and grabbed his wet pile of discarded clothes. Taking deliberate steps he stopped right in front her. She craned her neck, squinting against the sun which was directly behind him, silhouetting his towering form.

  Without saying a word, he tossed the wet heap of clothing onto her. She stared stupidly at the soaking wet garments for a full twenty seconds, then, to her horror, felt the sting of tears behind her eyes.

  "Leif?"

  "Silence," he pinned her with a narrow-eyed glare and his lip turned up in a cruel smirk. "You're not in Kansas any more, Dorothy."

  Then he turned and walked away, not looking back.

  Kat shivered violently. Except for a few, lingering, hate-filled glares in her direction, she was ignored. No offer of a dry change of clothing. No hot drink to warm her on the inside. She sat huddled, scraped and bruised and terrified, as if she didn't exist.

  Perhaps that wasn't a bad idea.

  When Leif gave instructions to return to shore, the men made haste to obey him, each skirting about the sleek, well built vessel, that was as long as a football field, with an air of urgency and excitement. Two men unwound and strung up a large squared sail, its bold red stripes a striking contrast against the whiteness of the canvas they were weaved into. As if by Leif's command, a stiff wind picked up and filled the sail, scooting them effortlessly through the water and toward the shore, toward her new, unasked for, future.

  Kat looked around covertly, realizing for the first time that her tote was nowhere on deck. As a matter of fact, she didn't remember having it since the wave had stolen her away from the world she knew and deposited her in this one. But it didn't really matter anymore; the pendant was a moot concern now. Because Leif was clearly in his time. But her grandmothers pearl necklace was also in the tote. The necklaces that her mother wished her to wear on her wedding day. Not that Kat would ever have a wedding day, she bitterly reminded herself, because, apparently, according to the high and mighty jarl who she had once, foolishly, considered to be her champion, she was already married, to him.

  I don't think so, Buddy.

  Kat managed to get to her feet and, thankfully, no one seemed to notice. Her choice was clear. If she didn't wish to live the rest of her life as a breeder and slave, then she needed to act now.

  At a run she headed to the edge of the deck. It seemed strange that the ship had no rails, but that suited her just fine.

  She didn't make it. Suddenly a familiar steel-banded arm snaked around her waist and imprisoned her.

  "Let me go!" she cried, kicking and clawing at his arm with numb fingers. "I won't live as a slave! I won't! And I would never have a child with a man that doesn't love me! Never! Just kill me, Leif. Just get it over with and kill me."

  The arm that held her softened for a split second. "Only a coward seeks escape through death, Kat," he whispered against her ear. "And I never guessed you to be a coward."

  And then his hold tightened, and became tighter still, until she could no longer breath and her head swam with darkness.

  He was going to kill her. He really was.

  *****

  Kat opened her eyes warily, she had no idea where she was or how she got here, but she was miraculously warm, despite being naked, laying under an animal skin. She held out a hand. The tar that had been smeared on it was gone, the splinters imbedded in her palms were also gone. She peeked under the animal skin at the rest of her body and found it bruised but clean.

  Where was she? The last thing she remembered was Leif squeezing the life out of her.

  Kat looked around in confusion and saw that she was lying in some sort of box, in what appeared to be an alcove, a long, low ceiling, windowless room lit by candlelight.

  She sniffed the stale air and sneezed, then dug her hand under the animal skin she laid upon, confirming her suspicion that straw was used as a cushion. There were two skins under her and three atop. With her movements her coverings sl
ipped down and she shivered violently with the sharp chill surrounding her. Kat hated the cold.

  Her cheeks suddenly burned with embarrassment. Who had removed her clothes in the first place? And who had bathed her? She fingered her neat, still damp braid and seriously doubted that Leif or any of the other men aboard his brother's ship would have been able to accomplish it.

  Relief filled her. It must have been a woman who had tended her.

  But why had she been tended at all? The last she had heard was that she was destined to be a slave in Leif's household, the lowest slave, if her memory served her correctly. The jerk.

  So why bathe her and see to it that she rested in comfort?

  More important still, what was she supposed to do now?

  She yawned. Her eyes felt heavy, and against her better judgment she closed them. And fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  His great hall was filled with laughter. It was a celebration fit for a jarl. Leif was back where he belonged. This felt right. This was what he knew. He drank deeply of the dark mead in his gold-rimmed horn.

  Word of his return from the dead had spread to nearby villages and now chieftains and jarls alike filled his hall with their merry-making. Leif was a wealthy jarl and in this great hall were over five hundred men celebrating and filling it with the sounds of their festivity. Iron pots boiled over cooking fires, whole pigs roasted on skewers. Skins from the last hunt were drying from the thick wooden rafters of the rectangular hall, and, most of the twenty sleeping alcoves built into the windowless, whitewashed walls were occupied with lustful warriors and their willing, or unwilling, slaves whom they had pulled in with them.

  Rain had started to fall. The drops falling through the several air holes, cut into the roof so that the smoke from the fire-pits could escape, made a hissing sound as they hit the flames.

  Leif knew he was envied by many in attendance tonight because of his rich, elaborate fortress which consisted not only of the great hall that they now drank in, but also of a separate cooking hut, a large slave hut that housed his two hundred or more slaves, large stables, work-shops, and a bower where the women worked. All these buildings were made of heavy, hewn logs, covered with tar to fill the cracks and to keep the wood from rotting. The brightly painted buildings were set close together around the four sides of a square yard. One thing that Kat's time had in common with his time was that when one had plenty of money, one could have anything one wanted, and Leif never deprived himself or his family of the luxuries he could provide them with. Not all the jarls now sitting at his table could say the same.

  During the long, drunken night, Leif had learned much about the goings on during his year away and had been troubled by the dissention between Norwegian clans in their struggle to assume power over one another.

  Before his betrayal by Katla, Leif had fought many a bloody battle to bring Denmark together under his leadership. From what he could tell tonight, his efforts -- although shaky at the moment -- showed promise of falling back into place now that he had returned.

  His brothers would be having speech with him soon, but for now it was a celebration.

  Leif could not fathom how he could have been in Kat's time so briefly, but away from here for a full year. It was September now. The light now commanded the sky, chasing away the darkness for all but a few hours a cycle. Leif stifled a yawn. He had gotten used to the equal amount of daylight and darkness of Kat's continent in a very short time.

  Several fights broke out as the night wore on and were quickly ended with another round of mead served by his ambatts, wenches who were grabbed and fondled by his guests as they dutifully made their way through the hall to refill the empty drinking horns.

  Kafli, a chieftain from a village to the East of his fortress, was seated to Leif's left drunkenly grabbed a slave girl as she passed by and slammed her, face down, onto the table. Pulling her skirt over her hips, he thrust himself into her.

  Leif averted his eyes, but did nothing to prevent Kafli from taking his pleasure. He and his household never subjected their slaves to such treatment, but he understood that not all masters were like minded.

  And he would never consider insulting his guests, the strong men he needed to keep as allies, by asking them to refrain from using his ambatts thusly.

  His blurry eyes wandered to the remaining female slaves scurrying about the hall whose faces held a mixture of hopelessness, despair, and on a few of the younger... fear. For a moment he was beset by guilt, a feeling he ruthlessly suppressed. After all, it was common practice for female slaves to serve as whores to a jarl's guests. Just because his household did not indulge in the practice, did not make it wrong.

  Kat.

  In saving her life this morn, he had unwittingly condemned her to a life such as these women. Words spoken to save her life, aye, but also words prompted by hurt and bitterness. He had sentenced her to a life of servitude, indignity, and a loss of self.

  And now there was nothing he could do about it without looking weak and indecisive in front of his people, a luxury not allowed a jarl in these troubled times.

  Having finished with his coupling, Kafli adjusted himself and slapped the slave's thigh making a red spot in the shape of his hand appear instantly upon it. Belching loudly, he called out. "Anyone else?"

  Leif grimaced as a giant warrior called Raoulfr shoved Kafli out of the way and plunged himself into the now sobbing girl.

  How old was she anyway?

  Leif pulled his thoughts away from the unfortunate slave and forced his mead-dimmed mind to form a plan.

  Until Kat carried his son in her womb, no other man would dare bed her. A host could rightfully keep a slave for himself if that slave was charged with bearing his seed. Logic decreed this so there could be no doubt as the legitimacy of the child.

  Leif sighed in drunken relief. The alcove that held Kat would be a place of safety for her. He noted with satisfaction the wooden bar across her door was set and locked. None would accidentally stumble into her chamber this night. He would not have to risk war by killing one of his guests. And as long as she did not thicken with his seed, he would not be questioned for keeping other men from using her.

  Granted, he would have to face his brothers regarding having placing her in his personal alcove. Even to his own ears the excuse he had made as he carried her inside his great hall this afternoon, that she could not slave for him if she died of exposure, had sounded weak. His brother Davyn had looked at him hard, clearly perplexed by the mercy he was showing her.

  But Davyn was not the only one perplexed. He himself could not understand why he had not simply granted Kat's wish to be put to death. He knew that things would be a far sight simpler if he had.

  He shoved a frustrated hand through his hair and belched.

  Why couldn't he stop thinking about her? He had sent his mother to tend her, she being the only one he would trust not to harm the girl in her weakened state.

  Even his sisters, two of whom lost husbands during the raid his wife was responsible for, could not be counted on to follow his command not to harm her. After all, they knew very well that he would never kill them for disobeying his orders.

  Leif propped an elbow on the table and rested his spinning head against his fisted hand.

  If only Kat had given him the pendant in the beginning, he could have returned home and left her to the life she knew. He knew that she had not wanted to return with him. She was bright enough to understand the danger that waited for her here. She had already had a taste of it this morning on Davyn's ship. And he had slain a childhood friend for having harmed her. Added to that, his own feelings of betrayal and bitterness ran deep. If he did not love her so much he could have put her to death and not regretted it.

  But he did love her. And she had betrayed him. She would go along with his plan, for whatever else Kat was, she was a survivor. Her very life depended on her obeying him and accepting the lot he dealt out to her.

&nb
sp; So why didn't he feel better about it? Why should it hurt so badly knowing she had no feelings for him? She was not worthy of his affection.

  And yet she had it.

  "Brother," Ofeig said, interrupting his troubled thoughts. He was a strong lad two years younger than Leif who was at the moment steadily looking at him through intelligent, considering green eyes.

  "Aye, brother," he said wearily. "What is it?"

  "We have much to tell you. As soon as our guests take their leave, we should meet and have private counsel. Much has happened since your disappearance, and I believe you have much you need to explain to us."

  Ofeig's somber look reminded Leif that his brothers feared for the soundness of his mind. Each of his brothers and sisters lived with the secret fear that what happened to their father, would happen to them.

  Leif had no idea what he would tell his brothers. Between his interview with them and setting Kat to her new role in his household, Leif knew that tomorrow was going to be a very long day.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Leif leaned on one elbow, watching the steady rise and fall of Kat's chest as she slept. It was time to awaken her and inform her what was expected of her in this new life she had tumbled headlong into and yet he hated the thought of the confrontation which would surely follow.

  Leif was still half drunk, and extremely tired. He had not slept at all due to his excessive merry-making, and doubted he would have a chance to slumber any time soon. His brothers and most of the guests were passed out by now, the ones still awake were so drunk they likely did not know their own names.