by Alia Bess
She hitched up her skirts around her belted waist and used her bare toes to grip the grass and straw as she crawled and scrambled over the rounded peak, avoiding the smoke hole, and to the other side where she lay on her belly over the place where Torgal was chained.
His head drooped over his chest. Victoria knew he had been beaten very badly. Danica knew as well. Her brothers had backhanded her a few times and her lip was still swollen. It was cold, and the mist would turn to rain. Victoria wondered about hypothermia and Danica worried about frostbite. There was no easy way to get down from the roof without a rope. The mist made the grass on the roof slick. Once she started to slide, Danica would go to the ground, a fall of about twenty feet, maybe fifteen if she tried to drop from the eaves. If she landed on soft ground she might not break her ankles, but it would hurt. Victoria did the figuring for her and suggested she slide around to the end of the house near the middens. If she was going to fall, she should fall in the trash mound.
Danica scrambled like a monkey and before Victoria had time to think about it further, hung for a few seconds from the eaves, her strong hands in the turf as her feet and wet dress swung in the air, then dropped to a hard fall that knocked the wind out of her for a few painful moments. An ankle hurt and Victoria felt it for moving bones. Just a sprain. She was about to tell Danica to go slowly and find a crutch when she found herself running with little hops and skips toward the man in chains. No crutches for this woman.
“Torgal,” she breathed. He lifted his head to look at her and he was no longer beautiful. Victoria wanted to cry, but the sight of his puffed eye and split lip and bent nose threw Danica into a rage instead of tears. She dug at his manacle and followed the chain to the ring set in the thick log. Blood dripped onto his embroidered tunic from his broken nose and his hair was no longer neatly braided, but hung limp and twisted in snarls over his neck and chest.
Victoria touched his cheek gently with her ghost hand and felt bones move. She ran her hands over his ribs and he winced. She touched his right side where his liver was. Danica continued to dig at the ring and the chain. She searched the ground for a thin hard stick and poked at the lock. Torgal was too weak and broken to protest these fruitless ministrations and Victoria put her mind to work.
He had escaped once. But he had been chained in another house. Sigrid’s house. And chained to boards instead of a great log. That must be where he was taken in the morning. She must free him tonight before the second fatal beating. This is how she must change history. Danica was crying tears of frustration and anxiety, not grief. Her nimble fingers had miraculously unlocked one of the manacles and she was fervently picking the other. She knew there would be little time before someone checked on her in the attic or came outside to punch Torgal again for good measure.
While Danica worked on the lock, Victoria felt for Torgal. Not the young man who sealed his fate with his cock, but Torgal the demon who visited her in the night and seared her heart and body with his love. She saw him raise his head again and the one blue eye, the one not swollen shut, looked at her and knew her.
Torgal, she called to him, knowing he heard her with his heart and not his ears, tell me how to help you.
I am here to help you, my love, to…the blue eye blinked. He tried to smile with his broken mouth…help yourself. She heard this as clearly as if his mouth had uttered the words. This is not about me, Victoria, it is about you.
She felt Danica’s victory as the manacle fell away in her hands. She let it drop and tried to lift Torgal under the arms. The girl said, “Come, Brute. On your feet. Let’s go. We make for the woods and then the shore. We leave.”
Victoria was swept to the side now that Danica had control. The young woman half dragged Torgal into the shelter of the pines. She propped him against a tree to get her breath for a moment, then grabbed his arm over her shoulder and tugged him after her. Victoria felt her swollen ankle and was amazed. Danica had no thought for herself or her injury. In her mind was Torgal and nothing else. Both of them left unmistakable tracks in the leaves and the mud. Victoria could see the futility of this flight, though nothing she could think at this stubborn girl got through her thick head.
That is when she really understood that she was Danica. The traits of all three women were hers. Alana’s compassion, Maggie’s devotion, and Danica’s tenacity. And what about Victoria? She sighed, trying to think what she might be bringing to the table. Nothing but self-pity and grief. She was the weak link in this chain of history.
They reached a fork in the footpath. Danica swung to the right but was brought up short by Torgal who weaved to the left. “This way,” he said.
“No, this way.” Danica leaned hard to the right, pulling his arm.
They might have stood there glaring at each other until Gotterdammerung but for the sound of nickering to their left. Danica’s eyes grew big and Torgal grunted a painful laugh. “This way,” he insisted. I have horses for us. Did you hide horses in the woods, woman? Are they to the right?”
Danica immediately swung to the left, half carrying her man and half dragging him. Soon Victoria could see the waving tails of two huge draft horses and a third piled high with leather bags and wicker baskets.
“You planned to come for me tonight?” Danica had dropped his arm and was now examining the escape vehicles in the dappled moonlight that came through the trees. Torgal dropped to his knees when she released him. Victoria tried to get the girl to see that he was in serious pain and needed to rest, but Danica could not be turned. She put her hands over the horses’ faces and noses, felt the saddles and fingered the baggage. “You were going to come for me,” she whispered. “You were.”
Torgal nodded. “But some wench grabbed me by my cock and threw me down in the straw.”
Danica laughed. “You should have told me the day before.”
“Woman. I had to make a scene out of abducting you so everyone would save their honor. I needed to stride into the house, grab you and run for the woods with you screaming over my shoulder. I was going to plan it all out with you in the shed. Instead…” He breathed in and out painfully.
“Right.” Danica tightened the girths of both animals. The folly of her actions was now painfully obvious. Victoria wanted to slap her for the thoughtlessness that killed her lover and ruined her life, but she could not. I am suffering for her impetuous act. She looked at Torgal panting on the forest floor, one arm across his abdomen. And he is.
Torgal looked up as though he could hear her thoughts. His blue eyes were yellow.
Chapter Nineteen
“Oh God,” Victoria lay back on her pillows. She felt as drained as if she had climbed over the roof of a longhouse and dragged a two hundred pound man through the chilly night woods on a swollen ankle.
Mr. Magnus smiled. He sat in her bedroom chair reading a book. He didn’t look up but turned a page instead. “Now go rescue Jack, Victoria. We can wait.”
She swallowed. Her last glimpse of Jack was of him hanging from a gibbet.
“Don’t go there, Victoria. I think there is a point before that where you might be more effective.” He lowered the book and looked at her over the rims of his reading glasses. “You are the one with the smarts.” Magnus turned a page and leaned back, making himself more comfortable in her chair. His eyes twinkled. “That’s what you bring to the table, Victoria. You are the smart one.”
She opened her eyes as Maggie. She was in the cottage putting away the breakfast. Outside she heard galloping hoof beats. Instead of running to the door to see who it could be, she deliberately walked across the floor, knelt by the bed and rolled under and behind the chest that held a glittering sword. She would stay there until more hoof beats assured her that Brigayne and his men were gone. Before, she had killed her husband by walking to the door. Now she would save him by hiding under the bed. So simple.
Mr. Magnus closed the book and smiled at her. “Do you feel better?”
Victoria sat up and felt her head with one hand an
d her chest with the other.
Mr. Magnus laughed. “I meant inside.”
She laughed with him. “I knew what you meant, but I have no pain here either.” She took a deep breath. “And my head feels clear.” She looked around her bedroom. “Where is Jasper?”
Mr. Magnus set the book down and came over to sit on her bed. “He has gone back home. You don’t need him anymore.”
“Are you going to go home?” Victoria felt a twinge of loneliness with this thought. Albert Magnus was the only person on the planet she could talk to about these adventures. If he left her she would be alone with her thoughts and memories. If he left there would be no one to explain what had just happened to her. If he left and took all his books, there might never be an explanation. And without Jasper she would not be able to travel to Marcus or Jack or Torgal. She frowned and reached for his hand. “Don’t. Not yet. I am not ready to be alone, forever.”
His eyes glowed yellow for a brief moment before deepening to a chocolate brown. She watched as the gray hair darkened and the wrinkles disappeared. He grew taller and younger and filled out with muscle. He was Jack, but with Marcus’s expressive eyes and Torgal’s handsome face.
He smiled as he cupped her cheek. “No. Not yet,” he agreed, and he leaned forward. “You will never be alone. Forever.”
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
