The Outlaw Viking

by Sandra Hill

  Two well-dressed men were approaching from off to the left. One of them, a tall, dark-haired man in his early twenties, walked briskly, arguing loudly with his companion. His fur-lined mantle swished open to reveal a beautiful blue tunic with a silver linked belt, worn over dark braies and fine leather boots. As he turned his face, Rain gasped. Oh, my God! He looked just like her brother Eddie, who had died in Lebanon.

  The fine hairs stood up all over Rain’s body as her eyes riveted on the dragon brooch holding his shoulder mantle in place. Quickly, Rain lifted her two tunics and burrowed beneath the waistband of her braies. Thank God, the soldiers hadn’t yet discovered her waist pack. She pulled out the brooch, then looked back at the man, who drew closer. The two brooches matched exactly.

  He must be Eirik, Rain realized immediately. Her half brother from the past. Tykir’s brother.

  “Eirik,” she called out hopefully, but he didn’t hear her. “Eirik!”

  Still he ignored her. In a moment, he would have passed and all Rain’s prospects for release with him.

  Okay, God, how about a little help here? Rain prayed frantically.

  She shouted, “Eirik!” at the top of her kings. Just then a slight wind came up, carrying her scream, and Eirik turned toward the window, his dark brows furrowing in confusion.

  “Eirik, over here!” she yelled.

  He came closer, ignoring the complaints of his companion, who wanted to return to the castle hall. Hunkering down, he peered into the little window.

  “Eirik, thank God you finally heard me. Hurry. You’ve got to get me out of here. I’m your sister—Oh, I know you’ve never heard of me, but I’ll explain everything later. Just have the guards release me. We have to help Selik—hurry!”

  “I have no sister,” Eirik snapped and was about to stand.

  “Yes, you do. I’m Rain—Thoraine Jordan. Ruby’s daughter. See,” she said, holding the brooch up for him to see.

  “Let me see that,” he snarled, trying to grab the pin, but she pulled it out of his reach. Once she gave up the brooch, she might not have any proof of her identity. Funny, she’d never thought of the priceless heirloom as evidence before. She almost giggled hysterically.

  Eirik squinted, trying to peer at her features through the window. “Bloody hell!” he said finally, then stood and walked away.

  Stunned, she just stared after his departing back. He hadn’t believed her after all. She sank down to the bench and let the tears run down her cheeks in endless streams. She didn’t care so much about herself. It was Selik. She feared desperately for his life and what the damn Saxons had been doing to torture him the past week.

  A grating of the door hinge jarred Rain to attention, and the huge door swung outward, allowing Eirik to enter.

  Eirik ducked his head and entered the tiny room, dwarfing it by his size and magnificent clothing. He scrutinized her coldly. “Talk,” he finally ordered.

  “Have a seat,” Rain offered, wiping at the wetness on her cheeks and waving to the bench on which she still sat. “Would you like some refreshments?” she asked with mock politeness.

  “Your sarcasm is misplaced, wench,” Eirik snapped. “I know not who you are, but one thing is certain—you are not my sister.”

  Rain stood and walked up to him, pushed beyond her endurance. She glared at him, hands on hips.

  Eirik looked her over disdainfully, then had the nerve to say, “You are big…for a woman, that is.”

  “Tall.”

  “What?”

  “Tall. I’m tall, not big, you Dark Age jerk.”

  His lips twitched with a smile. “Jerk—that is a word I know. I learned it onct from—” He stopped abruptly, his eyes widening with understanding. Then he took her by the arm and pulled her toward the door. “Come. We will talk in my room.”

  With little protest, the guard allowed Eirik to lead her from the prison. Apparently, Eirik held a position of some importance in King Athelstan’s court. In fact, she remembered Tykir saying something to that effect. Maybe he would be able to help Selik.

  Eirik’s small but opulent room was in a far corridor of Winchester Castle, a favorite residence of the king. Now that they were alone, Rain couldn’t help herself. She launched herself against Eirik’s chest, hugging him tightly. “Oh, God, you have no idea how much you resemble my brother Eddie. I didn’t know how much I missed Eddie until I saw you. You could be his twin.”

  “And where is this Eddie now?” Eirik asked hesitantly, putting Rain away from him.

  “Dead,” Rain said, sniffing loudly. “Killed in Lebanon more than ten years ago. He served in the Marines and…” Her words trailed off as she realized that Eirik didn’t understand most of what she’d said and that he was staring at her with suspicion.

  Rain bent her head, trying to gather strength, and noticed her fisted hand. She opened it and saw the dragon brooch—the precious pin her mother claimed was given to her by her husband Thork. Unable to think of anything to say that would convince Eirik, she merely handed him the brooch.

  He motioned Rain to sit in the only chair while he sank down onto the bed, stretching out his long legs. He undid the brooch on his shoulder, letting the fur-lined mantle fall behind him on the mattress. For a long time, he just stared at the two pins in his large palms. Rain thought she saw flickers of pain and tightly held emotion in his pale blue eyes.

  Finally, his eyes lifted and locked with hers. “Tell me,” he demanded hoarsely.

  When she finished her unbelievable story, he said, “I ne’er believed Ruby’s story of coming from the future; nor do I accept it from you.”

  Rain waved a hand in the air dismissively. “Ruby is my mother. Whether you think we came from another time or another country isn’t important now. The most important thing is getting Selik free. Can you help me? Have you seen him?”

  “I just came from his prison,” he said, rubbing the nape of his neck wearily. “And, nay, I cannot help him. I have already tried. Selik has pushed Athelstan too far. The king will not bend this time.”

  Rain couldn’t stop the low, mewling sound of distress deep in her throat. She shivered with the cold fear that swept over her and wished she could crawl under the furs on Eirik’s bed and sleep and sleep. And when she awakened, this whole nightmare would have ended, and she would be back in Selik’s arms.

  “Perhaps if I talked to the king, I could convince him.”

  Eirik slanted her a look of disbelief. “Not bloody likely.”

  “But I’ve heard that Athelstan has a need for good healers. I’m a surgeon—a good one, Eirik. There are medical marvels he’s never dreamed of that I could tell him about, services I can provide—”

  “You are a physician? Truly?” Eirik’s mouth slackened with amazement.

  Rain nodded. “I graduated from college when I was twenty and went through medical school in a record four years. I have a rather high I.Q.,” she said with an embarrassed shrug of her shoulders. “Then I served a two-year internship in an army hospital to pay off some college loans before becoming a surgeon. I’ve been helping at the hospitium in Jorvik, but believe me, I know much more than those primitive healers.”

  “Boastful, are you?” Eirik said, grinning.

  “No, desperate.”

  “In your desperation, wouldst you, perchance, lie?”

  “I’m not lying,” she said with a groan. “What can I say to prove what I tell you? Let me think. In my time, we can artificially inseminate a woman who had previously been unable to conceive. We can reattach a limb that has been severed totally, and even regain some of the bodily functions. There are heart and kidney transplants. All children are vaccinated against smallpox, and—”

  “Enough!” he said, holding up two hands as if in surrender. “The king may be interested in your tales of such a strange world, even if they are not true. Whether he will consider a reprieve is a totally different story, however. Do not get your hopes up needlessly.”

  “Just get me in to see the king,�
�� she said. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

  Eirik nodded, then shook his head in wonder. “A sister? That will take some getting used to.” He stood, seemed to hesitate, then held out his arms for her, enclosing her in a huge bear hug. “Later you will have to tell me about this Eddie person, my twin. No doubt he was fiercely handsome and very brave.” He deliberately puffed his chest out.

  Rain sniffled and looked up at him. “Yes, and extremely arrogant.” Suddenly, she thought of something else. In a soft shaky voice, she asked, “Can I see Selik?”

  Eirik shrugged uncertainly. “I will see what I can do, but Rain…I am not sure Selik would want you to come.”

  “Why not?”

  He grimaced and tried to joke. “He is no longer as comely as he once was.”

  She put a hand to her chest and closed her eyes for a moment to fortify her courage. Then she looked directly at him. “For God’s Sake, Eirik, I’m a doctor. How badly hurt is he?”

  “No mortal wounds, as far as I could tell. But—well, there is not a part of his body that has not been battered or broken.”

  “Broken?” she gasped out.

  He nodded. “A broken arm, cracked ribs—oh, Rain, I do not know. I just got back today from Normandy and only saw him for a short time.”

  Rain lifted her chin defiantly. Someone would have to pay for Selik’s torture. She began to think there was nothing more deadly than a former pacifist. But for now, she had to get Selik free.

  “Go and arrange for my audience with the king. There’s no time to waste. And see if you can find some medical supplies—linen strips, ointment, anything.”

  “First you had best bathe and change your garments. The king will not see you in such attire, stinking up his noble air.” He grinned as she jabbed him in the arm with mock annoyance.

  A short time later, Rain had bathed and washed her hair and donned the clothing Eirik had provided for her—a beautiful belted tunic of deep amber silk over a soft, cream-colored wool chemise. She sat anxiously wringing her hands as she listened to Eirik speak of his meeting with King Athelstan.

  “The king will grant you an audience on the morrow, but a short one only. Know this—Athelstan can barely speak over his fury at the deaths Selik has caused and his glee at finally having caught The Outlaw. ’Twill be nigh impossible to convince him to soften his attitude.”

  Rain swallowed hard. I’ll be talking to You about this later, God. Depend on it. “And can I see Selik?”

  He nodded.

  “When?”

  He held out a hand to her. “Best we get it over with now.”

  They walked outside the castle, across the bailey, and then entered an underground room under the soldiers’ barracks that held the prison. Rain assumed it was the same dank dungeon she’d been held in earlier. It didn’t look any better at night in the morbid shadows of their torchlight. Nor did it smell any better. And the screams and moans seemed to have increased.

  Despite Eirik’s warnings, despite Rain’s medical experience in a city hospital, nothing could have prepared her for the horror of Selik’s tortured body.

  He lay on a hard bench with his arm thrown over his face. His clothing lay in shreds, and he shivered in the cool dampness. Rain eyed Eirik’s fur-lined mantle, vowing that it would cover Selik when they left.

  “Selik,” she said softly and saw his body stiffen. Slowly, he lowered his arm and turned, as if afraid of what he might see.

  “Rain!” He sat up and groaned with pain. Then he shot an angry glare at Eirik. “How could you have brought her here to such a hellhole?”

  “I was in the same prison, just down the hall, until a few hours ago,” she remarked and heard Selik curse under his breath, something about stubborn wenches.

  She moved the torchlight closer and cried out at her first look at his face. Both eyes were black-and-blue and swollen almost completely shut. His nose appeared to have been broken again. And his hair—oh, sweet Jesus—his beautiful blond hair had been cut off completely, chopped so close to the scalp that bloody gouges showed through in some places.

  “Your hair,” she moaned. “Oh, Selik, they cut your beautiful hair.”

  Selik tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a grunt. “Christ, my body feels like a chopping block, and the wench worries about such vanities as hair.”

  Rain knelt in the rushes beside the pallet and put her arms around his waist, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  Absently, he ran a palm over her hair, crooning, “Hush, sweetling, hush. Ye should not have come.”

  Rain knew she didn’t have unlimited time with Selik and quickly regained her composure. She made him lie down so she could examine his wounds. Clucking, she cleansed and bandaged the numerous cuts and bruises on his totally battered body. She sent Eirik for a straight stick which she used to set and bandage his broken arm. She stitched gashes on his thigh, forearm, and abdomen, much to Selik’s dismay at the first sight of her needle. With the linen strips, she tightly wrapped his cracked ribs, as well as a swollen knee. She had to repeatedly send Eirik to dump the pail of bloody water and get fresh water to clean his wounds.

  Finally, Selik looked much better, dressed in a clean tunic and braies Eirik had brought for him. They set food, some coins, and other items in a basket at his feet.

  Selik sat on the bench and pulled her into the crook of his good arm, kissing the top of her hair gently. He touched the swelling at her jaw and shook his head sadly. Then he forced himself to brighten. “So, Eirik, what do you think of my angel?”

  Eirik arched a brow. “Angel? I do not know about that. Methinks she has the gentleness of a battering ram.” Rain reached out a foot to give Eirik a playful kick, but he jumped out of the way. Then Eirik added, more seriously, “But after the way she just cared for you, I must believe her claim of being a physician.”

  Selik smiled at her as best he could with his cracked and swollen lips. “You should have seen her deliver a babe in Jorvik. She outshines all the culdees at the hospitium. Truly, your sister is a fine healer. And she saved Tykir’s leg from the healer’s knife.”

  Rain looked at Selik with surprise. She hadn’t realized that he was so proud of her medical skills. He winked at her, and her heart did flip-flops of sweet love for him.

  Eirik questioned Rain about his brother’s injuries and thanked her for her help.

  “Where is Ubbi?” Selik asked then.

  “Back at the farmstead, caring for the children. He wanted to come, but his arthritis is paining him terribly.”

  “Rain, I want you to go back to Northumbria. You should not be here,” Selik said urgently.

  “I told you I would come after you,” she teased, nuzzling his neck, clucking over his butchered hair.

  “I find no humor in your words, wench. And stop fretting over my bloody hair. It will grow back,” he said, rubbing his chin against the top of her head. “The important thing is that you must go back to Jorvik.”

  “I can’t, Selik. I have to meet with the king tomorrow.”

  He removed his arm from her shoulders and turned her so he could study her face. “Why?” he asked in a suddenly cold voice.

  Rain felt her face flush. “I just want to meet him,” she said lamely.

  “You would not dare try to ransom yourself for me,” he said evenly. “Would you?”

  “No, of course not—I mean, I never thought of that. Now, Selik, don’t go getting stubborn on me. What I was thinking is that maybe if I offered the king some phenomenal medical remedy, he might be willing to release you.”

  “It would have to be mighty phenomenal,” Eirik commented dryly.

  “And what remedy, pray tell, did you plan to offer?” Selik asked cynically.

  “I don’t know,” Rain said on a groan. “I haven’t thought that far, but there are many, many medical wonders that I could pick from.” She smiled then. “I remember my mother telling me that King Athelstan was a celibate, that he deliberately abstained from—you know, so that he
wouldn’t have children. He wants the throne to pass to the true blood heirs, his young nephews.”

  “And?” Selik and Eirik both asked dubiously.

  “I could give the king a vasectomy.”

  Selik choked and burst out laughing, obviously remembering the time Rain had explained the procedure to him and Ubbi. “Lord, I would love to be a fly on the wall if you performed such an operation on him. Sticking a needle in that bastard’s cock would give me a lifetime of pleasure.”

  “Needle? Cock? Are you two going to share the jest?” Eirik finally asked with exasperation.

  Rain explained, and Eirik grimaced painfully. “We are all laughing, but he just might be interested. Being celibate has been sore hard on him.” He grinned at his pun.

  Selik gave Eirik a look of disgust and turned back to Rain. “I am serious, Rain. I want you to leave Winchester.”

  Fortunately, she had no chance to respond because a guard knocked on the door and told her and Eirik they had to leave.

  Selik stood painfully and took her face between both his palms. With the tenderest care, he placed his lips gently against hers and whispered, “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Selik. More than I ever dreamed possible.”

  Then Selik pushed her toward the door, adding, “Next time you are talking to that God of yours, tell Him to stay out of my bloody head.”

  Rain swiveled around. “God has been talking to you?”

  “Like a blathering lackwit. Day and night. He offers more advice than a shrewish woman.”

  Thank You, God, Rain whispered silently. Somehow, she knew that God would not be speaking in Selik’s head without a reason.

  There was hope, after all.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Rain didn’t speak to King Athelstan the next day. Nor the next. Each time her appointed interview came due, he suddenly had other, more pressing engagements—a portrait sitting, an audience with a representative of the Prankish king, a chess match.