by Ann Boelter
PILTOR ENTERED THE tent in such a rush, Nena knew he must have been shoved. He paused and readjusted his disheveled robes in a huff. She had wanted to go to the baths to avoid his unpleasant presence altogether, but Jarl had refused, not wanting her out of his sight until he knew what was going on. She sat cross-legged on Jarl’s furs, on the opposite side of the tent from the table where Jarl conducted his business, to be as far away from them as possible.
Without even acknowledging Jarl, Piltor’s gaze flew to the center pole. Confused to find it empty, the Worick brazenly continued his search of the tent, his eyes darting to every corner until he found her. He focused on the dark circle on her arm. His face fell.
“Have you seen enough?” Jarl interrupted his examination.
“What?” the slaver mumbled, his thoughts still in disorder after his recent discovery.
“Why are you here?” Jarl demanded without repeating his first question.
“I, uh, I came to make sure partial payment in rubies would be an acceptable substitution for the gold we agreed upon,” Piltor stammered.
Both men knew rubies were more valuable and lighter to carry; they would be an acceptable substitution for gold in any situation. It was clearly an excuse and not a very good one.
“Rubies will be fine. Though I am surprised you would make such an arduous journey simply to ask that. Was there something else you wanted?” Jarl asked.
“Uh, no. You are such a good customer, I only wanted to ensure that the transfer at the port went smoothly,” the Worick proceeded, relieved that Jarl seemed to have accepted his explanation. An uncomfortable pause followed. “I see you have sampled your greatest treasure.” Piltor changed the subject, then shrugged. “Though I can hardly blame you. Even with the prospect of a mountain of gold, that temptation would be too much for any man to resist for long.” He brightened visibly as a new thought came to him. “But perhaps she will be for sale now? The price will not be what it once was, of course, but it will still be substantial. Her first union would have brought nearly a king’s ransom, but only that once. She will still have great value every night for as long as she lives. As I told you before, the Teclan have made many enemies over the years—in fact, their actions continuously beget more. Their raiding will ensure her a never-ending supply of customers.” His eyes moved back to her and Nena felt them crawling over her skin, leaving the same slimy tracks as before.
Jarl was managing to hold his temper better this time, though Piltor did not press it by trying to get close to her. “She’s still not for sale,” he answered the original question.
“Pity.” The Worick paused. Then his eyes gleamed again. “But perhaps we could work out something else? In the past, you so kindly shared your previous favorite, Altene, with me.” Piltor licked his lips in anticipation as his eyes undressed her. “Perhaps…” Piltor struggled to find the best way to word his request. “I will not be leaving until the morrow, and would pay handsomely for time with her. Very handsomely indeed,” he added.
Nena saw the cords of Jarl’s neck become taut. One of his fists clenched and unclenched under the table. Using the utmost restraint, he smiled at Piltor—a dangerous smile, then spoke through gritted teeth that left no doubt of his position. “Our business is done here.” He stood and moved toward Piltor as if to toss him from the tent. The slaver recognized it and scurried for the door. “And Piltor,” Jarl added.
“Yes?”
“You are mistaken. You will be leaving tonight, and I don’t expect to see you again until we meet at the port.”
“Yes, of course,” the Worick said as he bobbed his head and backed out the doorway.
That night Nena could not sleep, and though she tried to think of anything else, her thoughts continued to be drawn back to the slaver. He was a harsh reminder of the reality of her situation in the face of her recent idyllic days. She had to escape. Now. While she could still find her way home. Before she was too far away in the cold strange lands of the North. It was only a matter of time before Jarl tired of her—before a new woman caught his eye and she was given away as Altene was.
You are not Altene. He is different with you. He keeps you with him all the time. He is careful to do things you like—to give you things you like; he gave you the mare.
And he gave Altene jewels, which was what she liked…and then he gave her to the slaver. What has happened to you? You are a Teclan warrior and the daughter of Meln. Yet you have gone from seeking any way to kill him to sharing his furs willingly every night. To taking rides, and waiting in his tent for him to return, like some woman waiting for her husband. You are his slave. And like the other women here who you used to ridicule, you have become complacent with your bondage. Remember what happened to Lenta.
All men are not like Lenta’s. Gineesh’s Northman is taking her as wife. Jarl will not hurt you. He fought the gods to save your life.
And he doesn’t think he is hurting Altene any more than he is hurting the chair when he sits upon it. That is its function in life and he is merely using it. When his infatuation with you fades, he will use you in the same manner.
Jarl is different.
Even if he is; what happens to you if he is killed? Even the greatest warriors fall in battle when the gods choose for it to be their time. What happens to you then? Do you think Tryggr will hesitate to claim the handsome price the slaver offers?
No.
No. Her stronger inner voice repeated for emphasis.
The internal debate only reinforced what Nena already knew. She had to escape, and she had to do it soon. Any longer and she might lose her resolve. She realized she was dangerously close to it now. She looked over at Jarl sleeping next to her. His face so relaxed, his hair tousled like a boy’s. She resisted the urge to touch it.
She needed a foolproof plan. She would get only one chance, and if she failed….
She could not fail.
The gift of the mare gave her the excuse she needed to fully exercise her free run of the camp without raising any suspicion. Though she was not allowed to ride without Jarl, at least twice daily she visited the mare to groom her or bring her a treat. The mare’s coat responded to the attention and glistened in the sunlight like a polished silver coin. Soon the horse guards were barely acknowledging her, and Nena knew her presence among the horses would not raise concern when it was time.
Caring for the mare brought another unexpected bonus. The horse enclosures were beyond the prisoner compound on the back side of the camp to reduce the number of flies in the main camp itself. In order to reach them, Nena had to pass directly through the prisoners. Each time, she varied her course slightly, hoping to see where the girl and her mother were kept without having to ask. She trusted no one with her secret—not even her own people. She could not risk being betrayed.
On the third day, she saw the mother and girl from a distance. She did not approach them. Instead, without slowing her stride, she scrutinized them and the area around them closely. There was no sign of a guard on the girl, as she had feared. Perhaps Jarl had rescinded the order when she chose him. Why or how didn’t matter; one by one her obstacles were crumbling in front of her.
Her only problem left to solve was the location of the camp sentries, and after the unexpected return of the slaver, the increased number of them. She knew from the maps and hearing the men talk in Jarl’s tent, the camp was set up within four circles of guards. The men were stationed closer together along the innermost circle nearest the camp, then fanned out in ever-widening circles until the outermost ring of sentries on the plains. While the distance of each circle from the camp remained relatively fixed, the location of each individual sentry within that circle was fluid. They constantly moved along the perimeter of their ring, never staying in one spot.
Not being able to predict their exact location was bad enough, but it was their warning system of whistles and horns that was Nena’s biggest concern. It was designed to alert them to any attack, and allow men to converge on a p
articular area to repel intruders. The furthermost sentries’ signals were rapidly transmitted to all the circles, and men from other areas would move swiftly to bolster the area under siege. But the same alarms could also be used in reverse, in the case of an escape attempt.
Nena was standing in the mare’s pen when a horn sounded, quite close, from somewhere inside the prisoner compound. The mare spooked and raised her head, her tiny ears pricked toward the sound. Her nostrils flared. Initially, Nena could neither see, nor hear what caused the alarm, but the quick succession of whistles and horns, and the mare’s ever-moving attention, told her which direction to look. At last, she saw a young dark-skinned man break free from the tents and sprint through the grass. Even though he was fleet of foot and had managed to evade the first row of guards, from where she stood, Nena could see he never had a chance. Sentries from the outer rings, alerted by the alarms, closed in on his location. He was quickly surrounded and recaptured.
She had to somehow account for that in her plan. If the sentries were alerted before she was clear, her plan was doomed. To outmaneuver so many in close quarters would be impossible. Her mare’s strength was in the open and going a distance—the longer the better. Once she was free; not even Jarl with his great stallion would be able to catch her. But how to get there?
Then even that problem solved itself. That evening in Jarl’s tent, she sat listening to the scout reports that were just beginning to come in from the next village. The potential fourth target from this grouping had not been worth their while, and the first scouts had returned from the next target on Jarl’s map. The last one before her aunt’s tribe. These early reports described the next village as much larger than any of the previous ones and its defense fortifications more significant. All agreed it was still well within their capabilities, but would require more men. Nena listened carefully as Jarl and his officers discussed just how many men would be needed. The number was substantial.
She could not believe her ears. When the men left for this battle, the camp would be poorly guarded, the sentries spread very thin. Jarl would be gone. She could make her escape with the girl and have at least half a day’s head start before he knew she was missing.
Jarl gave orders for the camp to break at dawn. They would move to within easy striking distance of the next target, make the final adjustments to their plan, then attack.
That night as they lay languorously entwined in the furs, with Jarl’s finger absently tracing an imaginary pattern on her stomach, Nena brought up what had been on her mind.
“Tomorrow, will I be riding the mare when the camp moves?” She knew it was a big test of her new freedom. She was not allowed to ride without him, and though he would also be riding that day, he would never permit her to ride with him. Having his slave woman riding along beside him—and that’s what she was—while he dealt with the men, was not an option. Still she had to ask. The thought of riding in the cramped wagon with Altene was unbearable.
She held her breath.
Jarl could tell she was waiting with considerable anticipation for his answer. He hadn’t given it any thought and had assumed she would ride on the wagon, but he could see why she would not want to. On the other hand, he didn’t want to have to worry about her. With the camp on the move, the sentry system dismantled, and her with the mare, there would be a lot of variables to worry about.
Jarl wondered briefly if she had intentionally waited until this moment when he was sexually sated to ask him, to manipulate him, then dismissed the thought. She did not seem to possess that particular feminine guile; her straightforwardness was another thing about her he found irresistible. He looked at her now, her thick lashes hiding her dark eyes while she waited for his verdict. Things had been so perfect between them. She did not push or ask for anything. He knew he could not deny her.
“Yes, you may ride the mare,” he acquiesced.
Her eyes flew open and she snuggled closer to him. “Gratitude, Jarl.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, and kissed the top of her head. Don’t make me regret it.
Nena had the mare saddled and ready before dawn. She led her back to the tent and waited, staying out of the way while the two men dismantled it. She watched as the younger man went in and dropped the two temporary poles, then raced out as it collapsed. She had seen it many times now, but their precision still amazed her. She soothed the mare when the horse snorted and spooked at the great gust of air that blew from the tent opening.
Jarl arrived just as the tent flattened to the ground. He spoke with the two men, verified all was proceeding according to schedule, then approached Nena.
He glanced at the mare, only briefly, but his eyes took in every detail. There was only a smaller waterskin tied to the front of the saddle. No provisions, no large waterskin, no extra clothing for inclement weather that one might take if they were expecting to travel far. He turned to Nena. She wore her usual simple warrior dress. Everything seemed in order. Still he cursed himself for his weakness the night before. What had he been thinking? Why risk it?
This was one thing he did not have to be worrying about right now. One thing he had control over—unlike every other thing that had gone wrong that morning. Since he had left the tent, he’d been confronted with one disaster after another. As he looked at Nena now, he certainly hoped that streak did not bode poorly for the rest of his day.
“Jarl. There you are.” One of his men jogged up to him out of breath. “Tryggr needs you at the front. He said it’s urgent.”
“I’ll be right there.” He dismissed the messenger and turned back to Nena. He had planned to accompany her initially, when the wagon train first got moving, but knew it wasn’t really necessary. It had been more for his own peace of mind. Perhaps it was a sign. Perhaps he should put her on the wagon after all. He knew she would be disappointed, but he could make it up to her later. He looked at her standing expectantly next to the mare and couldn’t do it. “Just stay close to the wagon,” he muttered.
“I will,” she agreed, sensing his indecision and praying he would not change his mind. “Gratitude, Jarl,” she added to further reassure him.
He shook his head, then kissed her before turning to mount his horse. “I will come and visit you during the day, as I am able.”
Nena knew it was his way of letting her know he’d be checking on her. She nodded.
Altene arrived as he was leaving. She looked with raised eyebrows at Nena’s traveling arrangements, then smiled a huge smile as she followed her bundles onto the wagon. Nena wished she could speak to her, to tell her that today would not be the day, but could not see how to do so without having the two men overhear. Nena knew her plan to escape during the next battle was so much better—so much more likely to succeed. It wasn’t like she would get a second chance if she tried today and failed. Jarl would never trust her again. At least not while they were still within her lands and escape would do her any good.
She could understand Altene’s excitement, though. She felt it, too. For the first time since her capture, escape was easily possible—if it weren’t for the girl, Exanthia. All she would have to do was peel the mare off and run. No one could catch her. Nena wondered briefly if she could find the child now in the commotion. But even if she could, it wasn’t as if she could just ride in and pick her up. She dare not be impatient. She had waited this long and had to stick to her plan. Now was not the time.
As the wagon pulled out and Nena fell in beside it, she soon realized Jarl wasn’t as trusting of her in his absence as he had seemed to be. One of the men driving the wagon turned to look at her frequently, and there were two extra foot soldiers following a few paces behind who had never traveled with them before. Each carried a curved warning horn on a tether around his neck.
Nena pretended not to notice them. This could work out for the best. If she pretended to be dutiful and content, it would further reassure Jarl that he had no cause to doubt her. After days of such trust being rewarded, when it came time for hi
m to leave for battle, he shouldn’t give it a second thought. Nena relaxed and enjoyed the comfortable stride of the horse beneath her, each step taking her closer to her escape.
True to his word, Jarl rode back to check on her multiple times during the day. Each time, she saw his stern expression soften with relief when his eyes found her riding where she was supposed to be. Each time she was careful to reinforce his faith in her, by smiling and showing she was happy to see him. That was not difficult; she was happy to see him. The slow pace and lack of conversation were boring, but even she had to admit there was more to it than that; she enjoyed being with him. After riding with her and making small talk for a short way, he would leave again to check on the rest of the caravan.
Later in the day, when he approached and his eyes rested on her, they were decidedly warmer. As he rode the stallion up next to her this time, she could see the unmistakable flecks of green within them.
“If I had my way, we would stop and camp now. I was actually ready to stop at the last watering hole, when there was still probably six hours of daylight left,” he admitted. “The journey would take ten times as long and I wouldn’t care. All I could think about was taking you to the furs.” He looked at her and shook his head. “You have bewitched me.”
“I, too, look forward to the end of the day—and to the night,” she murmured, her eyes meeting his and holding them. She saw him shift uncomfortably in his saddle.
“Your words are not helpful, woman,” he growled.
Nena laughed. “They were not meant to be,” she teased, enjoying having such an affect on him.
“You think it’s funny, do you? Tonight, I will remove that smile from your face,” he warned. “You’ll pay for your shameless teasing.” His eyes were a deep green now as he brought his stallion closer and their knees bumped, momentarily pinned together between the two horses. She thought he was going to kiss her, but he smiled and shook his head, then kicked his stallion up to a canter to check on the rest of the procession.