The Quest for Gillian’s Heart

by The Quest for Gillian’s Heart (lit)

  Andor pivoted on his heel and marched to his campsite, hoping they had returned and not yet told him. He was disappointed to find this was not so. It was enough to convince him there had to be trouble. He snatched up the reins of his horse and swung atop it. After debating with himself on whether he should go alone or take some men, Andor struck out by himself.

  No sense calling an alarm if none existed. Then he prayed that was so.

  As he entered the woods, foliage enveloped him in a green blanket. The colors looked faded as would a cloth left in the sun too long. He had forgotten how much darker the woods were than an open field during sunset.

  A panic left over from childhood lingered in the recesses of his mind. Stories of wolves that roamed in the night killing people came back in vivid detail. Tales conjured up by his older brother to frighten him as a small boy. No one wandered Northland forests alone at night. Being in a different land did not eliminate that caution. Even if packs of wolves did not roam here, other dangers of a human nature did exist.

  Andor cursed his recklessness in not guarding Gillian himself. He had no business letting her out of his sight.

  He reined his horse to a stop and squinted in the dim light. In the clearing ahead, he saw a dark form sprawled across the grass. Wary of a trap, Andor drew his sword and eased the horse forward. As he closed the gap, he recognized Seamus. Dread settled in his stomach like an iron weight. Still keeping a watchful eye around him, Andor slid down beside the fallen man.

  A gaping wound was slashed across the back of Seamus’s skull. Gillian’s spinning lay nearby. Andor snapped to his feet, sword raised high over his head. A blood-curdling roar ripped from his throat...a deadly warning to the man who had taken her...a cry of rage at his own carelessness. He reached for his horse and would have galloped off in search of Gillian if it had not been for Seamus’s groan. He could not leave the man to die, and a search would be much more effective with a party of men. Afraid that carrying Seamus on horseback would harm him more, Andor hurried back to the assembly for help.

  Heads whipped around in his direction as Andor neared. Several people stood, alarmed at his approach. Rollo and Freyda ran forward to meet him. He tried to keep the panic out of his voice, tried to be clear-headed and decisive, but all he could think of was that Gillian was gone.

  "Someone has taken my wife!" he shouted. "The man I sent as her guard has been struck down. He lies gravely injured in the forest."

  "We will use my cart to bring him in," Egil said. "Bring torches. Six of you will come with Andor and me to hunt this villain. Four of you bring the injured man back here. The rest of you stay behind, too many men will obliterate any tracks left behind."

  There was a jumble of activity as the men hurried to their horses, but they were ready in less time than it had taken Andor to travel from forest to camp. With Rollo and Egil close behind, Andor led the way. A cart for Seamus clattered along in their wake. Andor prayed they were not too late. As they reached the clearing, a torch-bearer leaped from his horse and knelt beside the injured man.

  "He breathes still. Take care in moving him, though."

  As if Seamus were a newborn, four men lifted him to the cart then carefully made their return trip.

  "There were four horses." The tracker bent over the impressions in the dirt for more thorough look. "They went north from here."

  They mounted their horses and rode in that direction, the tracker keeping ahead to lead them.

  It was obvious that the men who had taken Gillian had not intended to be followed. They left a trail even a novice hunter could have followed. Branches were broken, the horses hooves had cut divots from the earth, and every so often a piece of cloth or a few strands of Gillian’s red hair were stuck on the underbrush.

  Once they broke free of the trees, this path led across a green valley. In the torchlight it pulled them forward, giving them hope they were nearing their prey. Their horses beat a steady rhythm across the plain, echoing the anticipation in Andor’s heart. Then, as the moon inched higher, it cast a sickening glow on the landscape of rocks ahead of them.

  Andor knew before they reached it what they would find. The kidnappers hadn’t been so careless after all. Their trail was now untraceable on an expanse of rocks that stretched as far as the eye could see.

  The tracker checked several miles in each direction along the valley that abutted this barren landscape, but found nothing.

  "Sorry," he said. "There is little more I can do."

  Egil turned to Andor for his wishes.

  Andor hid his frustration. His instincts screamed at him to charge forward in his search, yet common sense pulled him in another direction.

  "We should return. Perhaps Seamus has come ‘round and can give us a clue. If not, perhaps we can start anew with the morning light."

  As they rode back to the assembly, Andor held back, hoping for some sign they might have overlooked. Nothing...and rage and depression flip-flopped with each step that took them farther from the end of their trail.

  Having taken one last look around the forest clearing, Andor was the last to reach the campsite. Rollo waited for him. "Seamus is with Freyda. He has started to come ‘round. Thora is in a state. She fears Leif will come for her next."

  Andor tossed the reins to one of the slaves. "I have no time for Thora’s worries. There is no proof Leif has taken Gillian."

  Rollo folded his arms over his chest. "Then who else would you suggest?"

  Pushing past his friend, Andor marched on to Freyda’s tent. He whipped open the flap with such force, she jumped in alarm.

  "How is he?" He knelt beside the man she tended.

  Seamus opened his eyes and answered for himself. "I feel like me skull was done split open. Sorry I could not save the lass, sire."

  Andor squeezed his shoulder. "‘Twas no fault of yours. Did you recognize the men?"

  "Aye. Me own countrymen, I’m ashamed to say. Claimed they were promised their freedom if they took her."

  "Leif?"

  "Aye. Promised ‘em safe passage home."

  "Was he there?"

  "No...only them."

  "Do you have their names?" Andor asked.

  "Aye. Shane, Dougall, McKenzie, and Brian. Ya know Shane. He be the big, ugly one."

  "Yes. I remember him well," Andor said. "You rest. Freyda will take good care of you."

  He stepped outside and found Egil waiting there with Rollo.

  "Any word?"

  "Four Gaedhil slaves took her in exchange for Leif’s promise of freedom," he said.

  "I shall pass the word," Egil said. "They will be found."

  Clutching the amulet around his neck, Andor asked that it be in time to save Gillian from whatever fate Leif planned for her.

  Gillian thought the ride would never end. Her captor cared little for her comfort - only in reaching his destination. Even when nausea overwhelmed her to the point of regurgitation, he drove on, uncaring of any mess made to himself.

  The jarring the horse gave her made it hard for Gillian to catch her breath. Pain shot spears of fire across her ribs and back. Blood swooped to her head, making her dizzy. She longed for a respite, yet refused to give Shane the pleasure of knowing how miserable she felt.

  He slowed the horse. Gillian was wondering if they had reached another rough stretch like the rock field, when he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her upright. For a moment her vision blackened. Before she could faint, he cut loose her wrists, and dumped her to the ground in front of a large tent.

  "Yer package is here," he called out.

  Gillian shook her head clear and pushed herself to her knees. Her arms were weighted from being trussed, and she rubbed life back into them. She sensed, more than heard, a presence before her. With sparks of anger dancing in her eyes, Gillian glared up at Leif.

  He gave a humorless chuckled. "Amazing...all of this and you still choose to be defiant. Put her in the tent. I will deal with her later."

  "Put the wench in yerse
lf," Shane replied. "We brung her this far. That was the deal. Now we’re free to go."

  "Not until I say so," Leif told him.

  "Ya’d best be sayin’ so quick. There be four of us agin ya, and we be well armed thanks to ya."

  "If you murder me, you would be caught and hanged," Leif said with a smirk.

  "There’d be naught a witness to say ‘twas us. The wench here would likely welcome yer death. Who’s to say she didn’t do it?...A whack on the head with a rock while yer back was turned. A knife in yer ribs while ya slept. Or...we could kill her, too."

  Leif’s smugness faded. "Go then. You can board any ship from here. No one will stop you."

  "You are fools if you do," Gillian said. "This man has no right to you. He lost it yesterday. Andor owns you now. If you take me back, I will see he frees you. This man is banished."

  Leif laughed. "Now who are you men going to believe? A woman who made the life of your friend miserable, or the man who holds the key to your freedom?"

  They looked from him to her, then turned their horses and galloped away.

  Leif laughed again and sauntered a circle around Gillian.

  "Well, just you and me. You have caused me quite a bit of trouble, young woman."

  "You brought it on yourself. ‘Twas no doing of mine."

  Leif shoved his foot against her back and pushed her down. "You will not speak unless I bid you to."

  "I have a right to know what you intend to do with me now that you have stolen me."

  "You are a witch. I intend to see that you die for all the trouble you have caused me."

  Gillian continued to glare up at him. She was sick, sore, and tired, and while it was true her lot in life was not golden, she certainly had no wish to die. She knew Andor well enough to believe he would look for her. It was up to her to stay alive to be found.

  "Killing me will not change all that." She narrowed her eyes. "It might make things worse. I might put a witch’s curse on you as I die."

  Leif’s eyes widened. He took a step back, his hand reaching for his sword as he did so.

  Gillian stretched to her feet. "Now...if you were kind to me, I might see my way to helping you a bit."

  "How so?"

  "By helping you get what you crave." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Land. Wealth. The love of a beautiful woman. The forgiveness of the people. All here in this land."

  She could tell by the faraway look in his eyes that Leif was considering this possibility. Gillian congratulated herself on her ingenuity. Then his vision focused on her. The evil intent in those dark eyes frightened her more than she cared to admit.

  "I have no time for your trickery. You die now!" He raised the sword high, ready to slash a fatal blow.

  Gillian forced herself to remain still and called to her aid a string of Latin phrases she had heard the village abbot use.

  Leif backed away. "‘Tis a trick for time ‘til Andor can save you."

  "Andor has no use for me now that he has Thora." Hearing that truth out loud hurt her more than his sword would have. For one brief moment she wished Leif would carry out his threat and run her through so that she wouldn’t have to deal with this pain.

  Just as quickly she changed her mind. Her mother had taught her to stand up to her problems, no matter how large. Running away solved nothing. Dying willingly was just another form of running away - it was the coward’s way out. Gillian jutted her chin in that defiant way she knew he hated. "Pierce my heart if you must, but the curse still stands. Sheath your sword, and I will see you get the good I spoke of."

  Leif lowered the weapon. "How can I be sure you will keep your word?"

  "Now that Andor has Thora I have need of a place to live. ‘Twould benefit me as well to give you good fortune. But you must vow to cause me no harm or I will curse you and yours for all eternity."

  Leif slipped his sword into its sheath, then clasped his hands behind his back to study her. Gillian forced herself to keep her eyes locked on his. He had to believe she was determined and confident or this scheme of hers would never work.

  "What of the curse you just spoke?" he asked.

  "It hovers over you, waiting to pounce should you harm me in any way," she replied.

  "Remove it."

  "No, ‘tis my protection from your foul temper."

  Leif pondered the situation awhile longer. Clearly she had taken him unaware, for she could see the concentration on his face as he reformed his plans and tried to find a way to take advantage of this turn of events.

  "Very well," he finally said. "I agree."

  Gillian let her breath out slowly. The game had just begun. She hoped she wouldn’t have to play it for too long before help arrived.

  A touch as subtle as a butterfly’s wings drifted across Andor’s chest and rested on his stomach. He sighed in his sleep. Arms wrapped around him and a woman’s fresh scent filtered to his nose. For two days he had not slept. Now that this glorious dream of Gillian was upon him, a deep part of his subconscious wondered why he had fought rest. If he could not be with her, what better way to ease his troubled mind than by dreaming of her? Her gentle hand moved lower to caress him more intimately. Andor sucked in a breath. His sleep was shattered.

  "I knew you would like it," Thora whispered.

  Andor scrambled to his feet. "What are you doing here? What possessed you to do such a thing?"

  "I wanted to thank you for saving me from Leif. I know why you did so, and I wanted to show you I want to be your wife as much as you want me."

  Andor was glad for the darkness, for he had no desire to see the look which matched the sultry sound in her voice.

  "I have a wife, Thora. You have misunderstood." He kept his tone firm. "My only intent was to keep you from being further abused. As soon as I am able, I shall see you are returned to your family in Northland."

  He heard the rustle of clothing as she stood, and tensed himself for her approach.

  "If Leif has her, you will not have a wife much longer. Then you shall have need of another." She pressed her palm to his chest.

  Andor snatched it away. "No one could replace Gillian. You have been through much, Thora. I can only surmise it has addled your thinking. Take care it does not happen again."

  Before she could make another move on him, Andor grabbed up his sleeping fur and hurried from his tent. If anyone should happen to be watching, he wanted there to be no doubt he had left Thora. To further protect himself from scandal, he ducked into Rollo’s tent for the remainder of the night.

  He expected a challenge from Rollo. The blacksmith was a light sleeper who hated to be snuck up on. Yet no challenge came. Rollo was not there. At first it seemed strange behavior, yet Rollo had vowed he would not rest until he had exhausted all means to find Gillian. He was probably out searching again as they had all done since Gillian’s abduction.

  Andor settled down, but sleep proved elusive. In his mind he retraced paths taken over the last two days. Paths that hid their secrets well. Twice he and the search party had traversed that huge rock field...each time, they found no clue on the other side.

  They returned to the assembly, hoping for word. Even though Egil had dispatched men to every farm, there was still no sign of Gillian, Leif, or the four Irish slaves. For all they knew, Leif could have killed them and fled to another part of Iceland to hide. He would have no need for Gillian, other than revenge. Killing her would be his first priority. Or would it?

  Andor remembered how Leif had wanted her. The very reason Andor had married her was to protect her from Leif. Now, nothing stood between her and...that.

  A knot of rage and worry lay in the pit of his stomach. He wished Rollo were around to talk out his feelings. He needed someone to confide in. His sister, of course.

  For the second time that night, Andor picked up his sleeping fur. Freyda would be a good one to talk to.

  He was surprised to see an oil lamp glowing from her tent. It was too late for her to still be awake. He wondered if so
mething was wrong with Seamus. Even though he had recovered somewhat from his injuries, the wound on his head was still fresh and he suffered from severe head pains. He refused to rest as Freyda and the physician had told him to, insisting on joining the search for Gillian. It taxed him quickly, making his head ache so that it was difficult for him to see. Perhaps the pain had driven him to Freyda for one of the powders the physician had left with her. Careful not to disturb Seamus in his pain, Andor quietly lifted the tent flap.

  It took a moment for his mind to register the naked bodies twined together in a union as ancient as time on top of the pile of furs. It took a moment longer for him to recognize the bodies were of Rollo and Freyda, lost in the ecstasy of love-making. Once all this information was absorbed, he threw his fur to the ground.

  "By the name of Thor, what is this?"

  The couple started but did not pull apart. Rollo protected Freyda from view while he drew a fur over them. Only then did he relieve her of his weight. Andor had never seen the man so angry. It was just as well, for Andor was furious.

  Freyda sighed. "Could you not have waited just a little longer before bursting in?"

  The implications of her statement set Andor’s rage loose. "How dare you?"

  "No, how dare you?" Rollo shoved a finger in his direction.

  "This is my sister," Andor said through gritted teeth.

  "And she is my woman."

  "And when did this miraculous event occur?" Andor demanded to know.

  "Will the two of you stop it?" Freyda told them. "I will not have the two men I love fight."

  Egil’s shout from outside interrupted further argument. "Andor, we have two of the slaves!"

  "We will discuss this later." He cast a final ugly glance their way, then ducked outside.

  "Andor, wait!" Freyda called.

  Rollo held her in place. "I will speak to him. I am sorry we were interrupted. I promise you ‘twill not happen again." He drew her close for a lengthy kiss, then dressed to follow Andor.