by Delle Jacobs
Aye, she had lost, but she must not let him know.
Quietly, she sat up. They were still wild, these Vikings. This afternoon had shown her their threat. Elli might have been killed. Arienh had been right in offering herself.
Yet what would she do now? The other men would press their demands now, especially Egil. Somehow she still had to keep the Viking at bay.
Carefully, determined not to stir him, she slipped herself from beneath the cozy down blanket into dark, chilly air. She crept silently across the hard earth floor, gathering her garments, and pulled the kirtle over her head. Deciding not to take the time with her boots, she reached for the door.
"Where are you going?"
She didn't turn. "Home."
"Your home is with me."
The slat bed creaked as he rose, and footsteps padded on the earth. Against her will, she glanced over her shoulder. The glance became a longing stare at his massive, muscular body. She forced a hard brittleness into her voice. "I have work to do. Do not worry, Viking. I will not deny you access to my body whenever you require it."
His jaw took a hard set, and anger blazed in his eyes. "Don't waste your time. It isn't worth that much."
His angry words stung like a slap. Arienh turned quickly, so that he could not see the pain in her eyes, and rushed through the door.
***
Gloom permeated the air of the Viking cottage. No one sang, or laughed. Horns of mead were emptied in large gulps surrounded by silence.
Egil passed through the door, and quietly pulled it shut.
"Did you find Bjorn?" Ronan asked.
"Dead drunk. He made it back to his bed, and he's out cold."
Ronan wasn't doing much better. He'd had enough to lighten his head, but it hadn't done anything for his dark mood. "Well, better than up to mischief. I was afraid he might seek vengeance against the girl."
Egil folded his arms. "Something strange about that whole thing, Ronan."
"I know, but it couldn't be true."
"Are you sure you know that much about Bjorn?"
That was the bad part. He didn't know. "He was a mercenary, true, but only on the Green Isle. I suppose he does have a lot to forget, though."
"There has always been something strange about him."
"It's not strange for a man to do what he can to survive. That's the way of things. He's a good man with a sword or a forge, and I'll wager he chooses the forge whenever he can."
"Aye," Egil agreed, accepting the horn of mead his mother handed him. "Most men fight only because they must, Valhalla or no."
"The girl must have seen some other red-haired man. There are enough of them, especially those of mixed blood."
"Aye, she could have been mistaken. Seeing her father murdered could have been enough of a shock that she didn't remember things quite right."
"Aye, I've thought that. And the cut was pretty shallow, like she lost her nerve, or had no heart for it."
"He is in no danger. But it's a bad way to be rejected."
Ronan nodded. "Odd, isn't it? With all his talk about having nothing to do with women."
"Well, I'd say he's not the only one to lose his heart," Egil replied, and he almost smiled. "You're not going to give up, are you?"
Was he? What was the point?
He wanted to leave. Felt like shoving the Black Swan into the river and sailing out into the Irish Sea. Felt angry enough to become that very raider Arienh so heavily condemned and thought he was.
No, that he could never be, no matter what she thought. But he didn't know how he could continue living here, every day seeing her and knowing she would never quite let go of her hatred.
He could not leave. He had committed to this spot, brought his kin and companions and rooted them here. Gunnar needed to stay, for all his life he had roamed, yet had fixed his hopes on a future in which his family had a homeland and not just a berth in an alien port. Wynne needed to stay wherever Gunnar would be buried.
Nor were any of the men inclined to leave. Egil, Olav, Tanni, and most of the others probably couldn't be pried loose. And truth to tell, he really didn't want to go, either.
He just wanted her back. Back? He'd never had her.
He supposed he had always known it would be like this, even though he had not been willing to accept it. Saxons and Celts alike had suffered so much at the hands of raiders, and they knew so little of the world at large, that it was natural for them to assume all men from the north were vicious, violent, conscienceless. But he had just assumed she would only have to come to know him and her fears would be dispelled.
He hadn't realized how deep her hatred ran. Not hatred, exactly, but he didn't know another word to explain it. It was as if she thought he and his kind were something not quite equal to mankind. A higher sort of animal, perhaps, but not human.
"No, we aren't leaving, no matter what. But if there's a way to make all this right, I don't know what it is."
***
Night had not been so quiet since the Vikings had come. They had grown used to the raucous sounds of an evening as the men gathered together, laughing, drinking their mead, telling stories, sometimes singing. Tonight, the dark air in Arienh's cottage seemed empty, yet curiously heavy.
"He really isn't a bad man," Elli said, almost in a whisper, addressing her statement to the hearth fire.
"If he killed your father, doesn't that make him a bad man, Elli?" Birgit asked.
Elli shook her head sadly. "Perhaps he was then, but I don't think he is now. He is gruff, though. I think it is because he thinks no one will like him anyway. Especially women. He thinks a woman won't like him."
"But you do, don't you?" Arienh guessed.
Elli sighed, still studying the glowing embers. "I suppose I do. Well, I tried not to. He just wanted a chance to start over, Arienh. Could that be so bad?"
"Perhaps he didn't like the life he led if he wanted to change it. I suppose that's not so bad."
"I wish I'd never listened to Grandfather. No matter how much hatred I might have, I could never have killed him."
"I didn't think so."
"And now I've ruined it for everybody."
"Except for Birgit."
Elli looked up from the fire, her eyes almost pleading. "Arienh, they didn't kill me. If they were going to kill someone, wouldn't it have been me? Do you really think they'll hurt her?"
"Nay, I think not. But Liam belongs with us. I can't let them take him."
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't know."
***
Perhaps it meant they had to do the Beltane alone, since it was not something Vikings believed in. Perhaps, for the protection of the sheep and cattle, they would at least drive the stock between the fires, but Arienh could do little more than hope.
The women formed groups. Some stayed to prepare food, and others gathered brush for burning in the bonfires, choosing dead branches broken off in the previous winter and carrying bundles to the ancient ground within the stone circle. It would take all day to assemble enough wood to keep the fires burning through the night, from dusk to the first glimmer of dawn.
Birgit tagged along, bringing Liam on his first day out, prepared to carry him if he tired. Arienh supervised the boy as carefully as Birgit did, but Liam wasn't up to his usual bouncing around yet.
Arienh was determined they would carry on. The traditions would not die. Today the wood, tomorrow, they would begin assembling food for the feast.
If only they could have poles for dancing. They had not had poles for years.
Would there be dancing? The women would dance. She could not tell what the Vikings would do.
Maybe she couldn't see what the answers were, but that had never stopped her before. Thanks to the Viking boy who had saved her so long ago. Ronan.
Her breath caught in her lungs. With a silent sweep of her hand, Arienh summoned Elli to follow her. With the large bundles they had slung onto their backs, they trudged up the trail that led
onto the little plateau where the stone circle faced out over the restless sea. Elli busied herself in glum silence, plodding through the forest where the trees thinned and out onto the grass-covered hillside. Dappled sun filtering through leafy trees soon gave way to the brilliant light of the open plateau, and sparkles flashing off choppy waves of deepest blue.
Her place of healing, where past and present met and joined. Today she needed that sense of wholeness. On Beltane, just a few days hence, all those who had danced and died before would come back, to share their love and lives with those who still struggled. The time would come, someday, when she also would be among those who came from the hazy time past to dance with living folk, part of the living thread of time.
Arienh set down her bundle, stretched her back, and walked to the far side of the stones to gaze out over the dark and sparkling sea.
Elli screamed. Arienh swirled around as the smell of human filth assailed her nostrils.
Vikings.
Hrolgar.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
"Vikings, Mama!"
Birgit jerked at Liam's urgent whisper.
Screams pierced the quiet forest air. Terror tightened like a band about her chest.
"What do you see, Liam?"
"It's the bad one, Mama, and he's got Aunt." Liam whispered.
Birgit squinted in the direction of the stone circle, in vain. She could not even tell if a tree stood between her and the grassy plateau of the stone circle. It was like a thick, pale fog with occasional darker blotches.
"The one who is Ronan's uncle? How do you know?"
"I can see him, and his ship, too, with the striped sail, way up the coast, where the iron pits are. Come on, Mama." Liam jerked at her skirt. "Come on. They've got Aunt Selma, and Aunt Elli, and the girls. Mama, they'll get us. Hurry!"
Fear warred with guilt. Liam couldn't run. She'd have to carry him. She could not save Arienh. She could only go for help, and she was nearly worthless even for that.
But Liam could be her eyes. "Aye. Study it, so you can tell our Vikings what you see. Lead me, Liam."
Purpose filled the little boy's face. He grabbed her hand and scurried through the brush. Branches she could barely see flew in her face, scraped her body. At the narrow path, she broke into a run, Liam before her. They sped through clearings, Liam hobbling on his good leg. When he slowed, she knew there were obstacles, even before he called back to her.
Shouts and crashing, rustling brush sounded behind them. Her mind raced back to a time when a Viking seized her, threw her to the ground, tearing, ripping, forcing his hideous body into hers. Liam. She could not let them get him.
"Run, Liam. Run."
"I'm running, Mama. My leg hurts."
His breathless cries tore at her heart. But she couldn't let him stop.
He stumbled.
Nay, Liam, don't fall. Don't let them get you. Birgit dashed to him, scooped him up onto her hip, and staggered back to the trail. Rough shouts echoed through the forest. She gasped, her side aching as she sped along.
Please, God. Please don't let them get us!
"They're going back, Mama. They've turned around."
Birgit prayed as she ran. Guilt clawed at her. That could only mean the Vikings would take Arienh with them. Did God save her at the cost of her sister's life? He must not. But Liam? She must save him.
"Look out, Mama. There's rocks here."
Birgit studied her footing, and the darker smudges where rocks and their shadows lay. Her toe caught and she stumbled, caught herself, tottered to her feet.
"Put me down, Mama, I can run now."
"Nay."
"You can't see it. Just here, Mama."
How safe would he be if she fell with him in her arms?
"They're gone. We can slow down."
"Nay. We must get help. We're almost there."
Birgit's lungs burned, her gasps deep. She could see the blotches of green that told her the village sat in the sunlight just ahead. "Run ahead of me, Liam."
"Nay. Mama!" He tugged at her arm.
"I'm all right. Just run ahead and get someone to come back for me. I'm still coming, but I've got to slow down. Hurry!"
His bright blue eyes were wide and round with fear. His brassy curls bobbed as he spun around, and blurred to a wheat-colored spot while his arms flailed, until even his movement disappeared into the fuzziness.
Birgit ran on. She gasped, again, again, deep and futile gulps, and she clutched her side where a sharp pain threatened to double her up. What would they do to Arienh?
If she’s lucky, no more than they did to me.
The horror of it spurred Birgit on, suddenly heedless of her pain. She must find Egil. Ronan. He would save his wife, wouldn't he? She focused on the blotch of blurry green ahead, begging her saint for strength. With a renewed burst of speed, she rushed on.
An explosion of light, pain. She hit something... Nay. She must... Her head... Light, dark... She had to... Swirling, throbbing, pounding, her palms hit the dirt. Nay, she...
***
Screams.
Ronan dropped his adze and lunged for his sword.
"Help!" cried the breathless boy, stumbling with exhaustion as he ran. Behind him, his mother, running and clutching at her side. Birgit suddenly picked up speed, then-
Horror struck him as Birgit ran straight into a low tree limb. The branch caught her in the middle of her forehead, stopped her cold, knocked her to the ground. Clawing at formless air, she crumpled, lay still.
Ronan blew the alarm as he ran to her, caught Liam in his arms and scooped him up.
"Vikings!" the boy gasped. "They got Aunt!"
Vikings? But how? He had set up a watch. "Where?"
"The stone circle. I saw them. They sneaked up."
Egil sped to Birgit just as Ronan reached her. Both men knelt beside Birgit as she moaned. From all sides, men and women came running, weapons at hand.
"What happened?" Egil demanded, but already a darkening knot formed on Birgit's forehead. Egil folded Birgit into his arms. Mildread plopped down beside them with anxious concern.
"Hurry. You got to hurry!" Liam insisted, pulling on Ronan's arm.
"Aye, Liam," Ronan replied, but he turned to Birgit, who touched the knot gingerly as she struggled to sit up. "Birgit, tell me everything, and hurry. Where are they?"
The pale green eyes he had once found so hellishly eerie stared with fear. Birgit licked her lips. "It's like Liam said."
"Aye, but we have to know where to go to head them off. How far up the coast were they?"
Liam yanked at Ronan's sleeve again. "Mama can't tell you. She can't see."
Ronan stared. It couldn't be. "What?"
"Oh, Liam." Birgit sighed.
"You didn't say I couldn't tell him, Mama. Only Egil."
Egil muttered an ugly curse. With a sickening thud in his heart, Ronan understood his brother's thoughts Egil clasped Birgit's face between his hands, turning it to him. "What does he mean, Birgit? You ran right into that branch, didn't you?"
Mildread sighed. A secret they all knew, then.
"He means she can't see. Not much, anyway. Liam is the only one who can tell you what you want to know."
"Hel's tits," Egil said. He flung his hands to his side and stood abruptly, leaving Birgit sitting on the ground. "All right, Liam, tell us."
The boy still breathed hard. "Up there where the iron pits are, past the stone circle, that's where their boat is. I saw it. It's that bad one that's your uncle, and he's got Aunt, and Elli, and Selma and the girls. You got to stop them."
"They've got too much of a head start, Ronan," said Tanni.
Terror constricted Ronan's throat as he wracked his brain for a answer. "Nay, that's miles away, with struggling women. We'll take the Black Swan."
Wild-eyed, Bjorn shook his head. "But how? Olav's gone to the iron pits, and Solvi's gone after that holy book. Seven of us can't man a longship."
"Take us," Mildread said, suddenl
y grabbing Ronan's arm. "We can row. We're strong, you know we are."
Women? Women rowing his longship?
He frowned. "It takes training, Mildread. If the oars clash, they could shatter."
"We'll do it right, I swear."
Birgit sat up, tentatively touching the lump on her forehead. Her pale green eyes impaled him with their intensity. "Please, Ronan. They took Arienh. And Elli and Selma, and the children. I know what they will do to them."
They were Loki's Daughters. Why not? He had to do something or Arienh would die.
He had already decided. "Aye. We might all end up at the bottom of the sea, but there's no choice. Mildread, get the women and their weapons to the ship. Egil, Tanni, to the ship."
"Take me," Birgit begged. "I can't see, but I could row."
Ronan only glanced at her and the purpling knot on her head. "See to my father. Get everyone that's left to the cavern," he told her. "And try to find someone to run to Olav. We need him if he can be found."
Ronan raced down the path after the others to the Black Swan on the riverbank. The men shouldered the big craft into the shallow river as men and women scurried aboard, and poled it downstream to the junction with the estuary. The receding high tide gave them speed.
Ronan's mind raced as he barked orders to the women, and paired them with men at the oars. He swallowed down his fear. One rower out of rhythm could wreck the entire ship.
But what would happen to Arienh if they didn't? What was happening to her, right now? He dared not think it. But he would kill Hrolgar. That, he knew.
The oars slapped the water, striking the rhythm. Tanni released the rigging. The big sail caught wind. Ronan adjusted the sail, securing its tackle to hold its position steady. The longship plowed across the rolling water, sleek and swift, under both sail and oar power.
