by Susan Wright
I shuddered at that. "We’ll have to take the slaves with us. They would be lost before they knew they were free."
Lexander nodded, adding, "Saaladet will try to establish another pleasure house here, but they will find it more difficult than they anticipated after our hard work. At worst, I can return in a few seasons to clean them out again."
He felt me trembling, and with a light kiss, he rolled out of bed. We talked about it all except the one thing that silenced me—his ruthlessness. I could not speak of it because I was not blameless. I was helping to incite the wrath of the bishop and the conqueror against Becksbury. How many more deaths would I have to bring about before the olfs kept their distance from me as they did with Lexander?
Though no olfs would come inside his chamber unless we were rutting, by day we were accompanied by a revolving troupe of mischievous creatures. They lived in the moment, never thinking of what would come, so they enjoyed the clerics’ confusion and heightened emotions. I’m sure they filched small items from the various sanctuaries we visited.
Since I would have to face Ukerald and Drucelli, I dressed that morning in my bulky slave tunic. I actually welcomed its warmth after so many chill, damp days. We arrived in the main hall with a few curious olfs right after the master and mistress sat down to the morning meal.
"Another trencher," Ukerald ordered Rimbert when we came in. "We thought you had left for Stanbulin."
I knelt behind Lexander as he sat down at the table. Olvid was chained to the pillar as usual. The olfs went over to coo at the poor girl to try to cheer her up.
Rimbert returned with the porridge and a trencher of bread and set it down. Lexander tossed me a hunk of bread without a break in his expression.
Drucelli’s exquisite face was petulant. "You couldn’t have avoided us more if we were lepers."
Last night, after our lovemaking, Lexander had finally confessed that he had succumbed to her seductions. He claimed he had taken her to irk Ukerald, but I could tell he had been truly tempted by Drucelli.
Now he barely glanced at Drucelli as he accepted a goblet of wine from Rimbert. "I must reach Stanbulin in all haste so I can return to Vidaris with reinforcements. Trying to get around this blockade is nothing but a cursed nuisance."
Ukerald’s pale brown eyes flashed. "Apparently Becksbury is not secure enough for you."
Lexander laughed out loud. "Don’t be as simpleminded as these yokels, Ukerald. It doesn’t become you."
Drucelli raised her brows in surprise. "Do you dare insult your host, Lexander?"
"He insults my intelligence by making such a claim."
Ukerald narrowed his eyes. "I’m waiting for an explanation of why you interfere in my affairs."
Lexander picked up a knife and cut the smoked sausage. "To ensure that the blockade is removed, I have incited panic among the Kristna sanctuaries, knowing the new bishop has the ear of the conqueror. If the bishop puts pressure on the conqueror to end this useless stalemate, then I will be free to leave."
Ukerald leaned forward, uncomfortably close to Lexander. "This is my territory. You have no right to stir up trouble."
Lexander shot Drucelli a glance. "Your territory, Ukerald? It seems to me you’ve done little to protect Becksbury during these upheavals."
"You’ve brought this house to the attention of the Kristna clerics. You know we’re an anathema to them."
"That is why I went to them and not the merchants," Lexander responded coolly. "Becksbury has nothing to do with Kristna, so I haven’t infringed on any of your prior agreements. And frankly, I think your lack of cultivating the clerics is unwise. Kristna followers must be placated and flattered from time to time."
"That is not for you to decide!" Ukerald was finally getting heated, pounding one fist on the table. He was so accustomed to making everyone quake before him that Lexander’s casual dismissal was infuriating. "You are a guest in this house and I forbid you to interact with the people here."
The dogs rose slowly and began to growl, responding to their master’s fury.
"You forget yourself, Ukerald." His amusement was clear. "You have no power over me."
Drucelli grew shrill. "We can deny you our table and the bed you sleep in at night!"
I was ready to leap to my feet at Lexander’s signal. But I was not sure Ukerald would let us go so easily.
The dogs began to bark, running toward the door to the courtyard. The huscarl appeared, ushering in a young boy. I recognized him as one of Lexander’s messengers. The boy hesitantly started forward, nodding to Lexander. "A warband, sirà."
Ukerald shoved his bench back with a harsh scrape. "Come here!"
Lexander leaped to his feet, demanding, "Which way do they march, boy? To the ships or the sanctuary?"
"The sanctuary," the boy stammered, keeping a wary eye on Ukerald.
The dogs were making such a din that I silently begged the olfs to descend on them. We were all at risk as long as Ukerald could order his dogs to attack. I promised the olfs the first bites of my meals for the rest of the season. They darted over to cloud the dogs’ eyes, driving them out the door.
Ukerald ordered, "Fetch them, Rimbert!"
Rimbert hurried toward the door as if glad to escape. I silently begged the olfs to goad the dogs across the compound, taking the slave with them.
Meanwhile, Lexander tossed the boy a coin, which he caught in midair. "Begone, quickly."
Ukerald roared out, "Stop! You’ll go nowhere until this is explained."
The huscarl blocked the boy from leaving. His eyes were wide, and I feared he would spill everything he knew. I could barely remain on my knees.
Lexander turned to Ukerald, his voice deadly serious. "You’ve mismanaged everything, Ukerald. There’s a growing sentiment against this house amongst the Kristna followers. I tried to create a rapport with them, but it was too late. Now we must escape before they arrive."
Ukerald’s face contorted. "What have you done?"
"This boy has brought warning that a warband under the bishop is marching on Becksbury." Lexander gestured to the messenger boy to go. The huscarl was retreating in horror.
"Go, bar the gates!" Ukerald ordered. At his sharp gesture the huscarl fled.
"You’ve been caught unawares," Lexander insisted. "I’ve got a way out, but we must hurry."
Drucelli had her hand to her mouth. "It can’t be true! We’ve done nothing to these people."
"You’ve created no alliances," Lexander said. "No bonds with any of the local jarls or gentry of Londinium. You left yourselves exposed."
"The situation has been unstable for decades," Ukerald insisted. "The conqueror could be ousted tomorrow, and a Noroking placed here instead."
"Today you are being attacked," Lexander said flatly.
"What do we do?" Drucelli cried out.
Lexander turned to her. "Go get your valuables and put them in a bag. Don’t bring anything heavy. We have to go over the town wall."
"What about the slaves?" Drucelli asked. My eyes went to Olvid chained to the post.
"We’ll take them with us," Lexander declared. "Get your things, then fetch them here."
Drucelli looked over at Ukerald for a moment. He didn’t believe Lexander, but he didn’t protest. She saw his indecision, rare for Ukerald, and that made up her mind. She hurried to her chamber in a rustle of skirts.
Lexander turned away as if to follow her. That’s when I saw the knife he had kept hidden in his hand the entire time.
Ukerald reached out to stop him. "You did this! How did you provoke them?"
Lexander shifted as if to tell him, leaning in confidentially. But instead he thrust his knife into Ukerald’s side. He pushed hard, driving the point deep into his chest.
Ukerald cried out, and his feet kicked, sending the bench tumbling across the ground. Lexander pulled out his knife and Ukerald gasped, trying to draw another breath. The godling’s strength was prodigious; a man would have been crushed. Lexander wrestled wi
th him for a moment, then slashed the edge of the knife across his throat.
It was done too quickly, too expertly, as if Lexander was killing a bird for our evening meal.
He dropped Ukerald, who was left to writhe in his death throes right before me. The few olfs who remained bolted away.
Lexander hurried to the chambers in back. "No," I breathed, knowing what he intended.
I scrambled away from Ukerald, who was growing still. His eyes stared past me as the blood covered his neck and mouth, even flowing from his nose.
The door opened behind me and the sounds of a struggle followed. I tore my eyes away from Ukerald as Drucelli screamed. It didn’t last long. Lexander reappeared in the doorway, his knife hand bloody to the elbow and a wild light in his eyes. There was a bag slung over his back.
"Is this what you planned?" I cried.
"What else?" he countered. "Hurry, Marja, the hall is starting to burn."
Olvid was crouching in terror by the pillar. I was surprised she hadn’t fallen into a fit. "We have to take Olvid."
Lexander called, "Marja, don’t!" but I ran to her. The chain was held closed by a peg. I hit it against the post to force it out. The girl was so simpleminded she had never realized escape was within her grasp.
"You’ll be fine, Olvid," I tried to assure her. But she was staring at Ukerald sprawled on the ground. The air was growing hot and the pillars were smoldering.
I tried to guide her away, but she saw Lexander coming and jerked from my hands. She ran to the front, where the door was ajar to the courtyard. I started to follow, but Lexander shouted, "Marja, come here!"
Flames crackled up the walls, setting the tapestries on fire. We needed to leave from the back to reach the town wall. Olvid slipped out the front, so she was safe.
Lexander had the door open and was waiting for me when I dashed up. The thatch overhead sucked up the fire and burst into a smoky mass.
Hand in hand we ran toward the rear of the manor. We hadn’t gone far when the ground shook with a low rumble, and the hall began to collapse. I went down into the grass, but Lexander pulled me back up. Somehow we kept going as the flames gained strength, shooting up from the collapsing timbers. People were rushing away in the forecourt to avoid the burning building.
"The slaves—" I started to say.
"They’ll be all right," Lexander interrupted. "See, the servants let them out."
The pleasure slaves huddled together as the huscarl drove them away from the burning hall.
"We have to take them with us," I insisted.
Lexander was gazing through the smoke toward the gate. "It’s too late. The bishop is here already."
Lexander pulled me across the open yard to the towering wall that surrounded Londinium. He was able to scramble to the top where the wall was broken down on the innermost layer. He reached down a hand for me, stretching as far as he could. I didn’t think I could make it, but I willed myself to climb the near vertical side until he could grab me. Then he easily hauled me up, rolling me over him.
The top was uneven and layered with broken bits of gravel. Lexander motioned for me to stay down so we wouldn’t be noticed from below. With the hall fallen in, we could see the gate, where a mass of men were entering. They met with no resistance.
"Look," Lexander pointed. "There’s the bishop."
The imposing cleric was in the lead, his head shaved in a white circle fringed with dark hair. He and a few other tonsured men were the only ones wearing long robes instead of armor. But the bishop carried a broadsword. He hefted it as if accustomed to the feel of a weapon in his hand. I could imagine him on the battlefield with the conqueror, blessing his troops and praying over the martyred dead.
The flames flickered between us as the warriors fanned through the manor. The slave hall caught fire, but I was reassured by the sight of the pleasure slaves, nearly indistinguishable from the servants in their bulky garments.
"What’s going to happen to them, Lexander?"
"They’ll be fine. They’re certainly better off than under Ukerald." Lexander was retrieving a coil of rope from a crack in the top of the wall. "I stored this here in case we needed to escape."
He began to tie one end to a projecting stone. Outside the wall spread a marsh that was fogged in. The sounds of frogs and trickling water were comfortingly familiar.
Smoke shifted to briefly block my view of the manor beyond the hall. It also gave us a temporary reprieve, keeping the warriors from seeing us.
But through the swirling vapors, Olvid was dragged forward. Naked, she squatted down in front of the clerics. The bishop silenced everyone, shouting something that was lost in the crackle of the fire.
"You go first," Lexander urged.
"But Olvid—" I started to say.
The girl jerked and fell heavily to the ground. The warriors pulled back in trepidation. Several made the horned sign, warding off the demon that infested her. It wasn’t her fault that Ukerald had cracked her skull so the evil could get in.
"Marja, we have to get away," Lexander insisted.
The bishop held his sword in both hands, pointing downward, as he raised his arms. Olvid was beneath him. He plunged the sword into Olvid’s chest, pinning her to the ground. With a final heave, her writhing abruptly stopped.
"He . . . he . . ." I gasped.
Lexander pulled on my arm. "Come, Marja. Or we’ll face the same fate."
I felt as if I were choking. Olvid had been spitted in cold blood. Just like Lexander had slain Ukerald and Drucelli. I went numb, unable to feel it all at once.
Lexander dragged me to the outer edge of the wall. There, I grabbed on to the rope, noting there were knots along its length. I swung my leg over the side, reaching for the knots with my feet. The rope was rough, and my knuckles scraped against the stones.
I could think of nothing but Olvid—I had left her behind. I should have brought her with us. I should have made sure all of the slaves were freed before the bishop arrived. Would they be killed like Olvid?
I wasn’t paying enough attention because my feet slid off the rope, and before I could regain my footing, my hands slipped, too. I fell the rest of the way, slamming along the mortared stones until I landed with a soggy splat in the icy marsh.
9
The next thing I felt was a slight swaying. My head was spinning and my stomach lurched from its moorings.
"Marja!" Lexander murmured close to my ear."Thank the gods you’re awake. . . ."
I was being held against his chest, his arms around me. I moaned, trying to form words to beg him to stop rocking me. But as I swam to consciousness, I realized we were both moving. We were in a small boat.
"Hush, now, Marja. There are people nearby. We mustn’t be seen."
I relaxed, realizing it would sicken me if I fought the motion. I was far too groggy to reach out to the sea spirits, but simply knowing I was supported by their embrace eased me.
There was a tangle of bare branches around us. We were deep in a thicket along the shore, lying on the floor of the boat, where nobody could see us. The water was just on the other side of the wooden plank beneath my hip.
At first I thought it was early morning. Then I remembered that Londinium was bathed in haze through much of the day. That reminded me of Becksbury and scenes too bloody to bear.
I shuddered, and Lexander stroked my hair, murmuring, "We’re safe now, Marja. When you fell so hard and didn’t wake up, I feared . . . but I couldn’t take you to a healer. All they would do is bleed you, weakening you further."
There was a pleading edge to his voice, as if he needed to believe that I wasn’t badly hurt. But I felt pain in far too many places.
"I carried you through that godforsaken swamp. I thought we’d never get out. The ships are still in dock, and we cannot wait any longer for the conqueror to clear the river. Only a rowboat can get through the Noromenn blockade, so that’s what I bought. We’ll make it through, Marja, I swear it."
Sometime lat
er, Lexander began rowing, using his uncanny vision to see through the darkness. There was not an olf in sight to help light the way. After Becksbury, I wasn’t sure if the olfs would ever come near Lexander again.
"Where are we?" I murmured.
Lexander shushed my questions, and the pounding in my head drowned out everything else.
It was wet, cold, and dark for too long. Then the boat shifted abruptly, shaken by waves from the encroaching sea. Lexander was riding the outgoing tide. The fog grew so heavy that it turned into cold needles of rain against my skin.
A huge beast reared out of the blackness. It took a few wild moments for me to realize it was a ship lit by a lantern. The prow was carved in the shape of a dragon leaping into the air, its wings spreading behind it. The square sail meant there were Noromenn onboard.
I choked back my instinctive cry of welcome. These were not the Noromenn of my homeland but Birgir’s kin from the cold north.
Lexander strained to silently pull us away from the circle of light cast by the lantern. I held my breath, fearing the worst.
But we slipped into the darkness again. The splash of waves beat against their hull, and the voices of men echoed over the water. Sentries must have been posted to watch for movement upriver. Somehow, Lexander had evaded them.
The rocking finally ceased. I wakened slowly, lying in the water in the bottom of the boat and staring up at the brightening sky. I was alone.
I struggled to sit up, my head throbbing painfully with every heartbeat. The boat was beached on a crescent curve of white sand backed by low dunes. The ground rose higher into a rugged bluff beyond, but the drifting fog partly obscured it.
"Danelaw," I murmured, realizing we had not gotten far in our escape. Then again, perhaps the entire length and breadth of the Auldland was blanketed in clouds.
I collapsed back, wrapping the sodden cloak around me. I was chilled through despite my wool tunic and leggings.
A shadowy form approached out of the fog. I thought it was Lexander at first, but this man had a heavier step. I hunched down in the boat.
