Nena

by Ann Boelter

  Nena was still smiling at the encounter when she turned and found Altene’s eyes boring holes in her. Her smile faded. She didn’t think Altene had been able to overhear them, but their body language had probably been clear enough. She knew Altene was upset there had been no escape attempt today. But she also knew Altene was even more upset by the fact that, since Nena had chosen him, Jarl had not once accepted any of Altene’s repeated offers to pleasure him. Her prediction that Jarl’s lust for Nena would fade had not proven true. Jarl and Nena had spent every night together, and the passion they continued to share was evident.

  That night in the makeshift trail camp was no different. When Nena was with him and they were alone, his sensitive, intimate side that no one else saw, made it easy to forget her circumstances and lose all sense of urgency to escape. But every morning when she stepped outside the tent, the reality was a slap in the face. She was a slave. Whether Jarl treated her like one or not, the fact remained.

  She longed to reach the next full campsite—longed for the day of the battle to be here so she could escape. To finally put an end to the push and pull of her contradicting feelings. Before something happened and the opportunity was lost. Before Jarl’s tender acts chipped away further at what remained of her slowly eroding resolve.

  It was the middle of the fifth day of travel when Jarl rode up beside her and announced, “We will be stopping up ahead in about an hour.”

  “For the night?” Nena asked.

  “No, to set up the next full camp. We’re close enough now.”

  Nena nodded as she digested the information. The next full camp—for her, the last full camp.

  Like Jarl’s tent, the camp was set up almost identically every time, varying only slightly with the differences in the terrain. Over the next few days, Nena verified that was the case this time as well. The horse enclosures were in the same place in the rear of the camp. The prisoner compound was laid out in the same rows of temporary shelters. It made it easy for Nena to locate the mother and Exanthia. She confirmed with relief there was still no guard on the child. With so many men needed for the upcoming attack, Nena did not anticipate that changing before the raid.

  Jarl made time to ride with her every day. Most days they stayed close to camp, as his time was limited, but a few times they rode further—always to the south, away from the next target so as not to accidentally alert them. Daily she sucked the bitter leaf. The second branch she had received from Altene was almost bare. With her escape near, it appeared she would have just enough, depending on when Jarl gave the order to attack. Nena knew it would be soon.

  She listened as each of the last detailed scouting reports came in. The men were excited at the prospect of a larger score and a tougher opponent. Jarl gave the order. They would attack the following day. When the men left and Nena was alone, she pulled out the branch. There was one leaf left. It would cover her for today, but she would need one more for tomorrow. She set out to find Altene.

  “I need more herb,” Nena said when she finally discovered Altene leaving the baths.

  “I don’t have any more,” Altene said, her voice cold.

  “But I need it,” Nena said, shocked at the other woman’s obvious lie.

  “And I need you to be gone, yet here you remain. You swore to escape, but you do not—do not even make attempt. Days with the camp on the move and you with a horse. No Jarl. No guard. Yet you rode so close to the wagon you might as well have been chained to it. I should have known. You’ll never leave him. You plan to take my place at his side in the North.”

  “He was having me watched when we moved, and besides I could not have found the girl.”

  “Then you should have left without her. Watched or not, you could have made it easily. I don’t care a piss pot about some stupid little girl’s fate; certainly not more than I care about my own!” Altene hissed.

  “I only need one more leaf. I’m going to escape during tomorrow’s battle. Everything is set.” Nena confessed the plan she had shared with no one, fearful even now, that Altene would betray her.

  “Good, then I hope for your sake his last night of seed within you does not take.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Nena asked.

  “You’ve given me no choice. I risked everything for this plan, but once you felt his touch, you changed your mind.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it?” Altene was openly hostile now. “I have waited and waited for you to either fulfill our deal, or for him to tire of you, but neither has happened. You say you will escape, but you spend your days on joy rides and your nights in his arms. Meanwhile, I am running out of time. We shall make the port soon. Not having the herb will give you a little more incentive to follow through with your word. And if you fail—or change your mind and stay, we’ll see how he likes your bloated stretched body after you are with child. Even married men stray when their wives are pregnant. And you are nowhere close to being his wife. You are still just his slave. Either way, he will soon call me back to his bed.”

  That night as they ate their last meal, Nena forced herself to engage in conversation with him and to eat normally, though every bite sat in her stomach like a stone. Every minute seemed an eternity. When he took her to the furs, it was easier. Easy to get lost in his embrace and forget what the dawn meant for her. She was sure as he held her in the crook of his arm, still warm from the afterglow of their lovemaking, that she would not sleep that night. But the next thing she was aware of was being awakened by his kiss.

  It was dark, but she could hear the activity outside the tent as the other men prepared for battle. She knew he would rise right away and get dressed; he was always the first to be ready. She reached for him, returning his kiss, then lifted her leg over his, holding him down and pressing her body against him. She felt his hardness.

  He groaned under his breath at her unexpected initiation. “You will make me late,” he murmured.

  She did not answer, but moved her pelvis tighter against his. He pulled her hips to him and entered her as he rolled onto his back with her on top of him. Nena sat up astride him, his hands tight on her buttocks, holding her to him as he moved inside her. She leaned forward and kissed him, pressing her breasts against the hard muscles of his chest. She shifted her body sideways, indicating she wanted back on the bottom. Jarl obliged. Nena enjoyed being on top, but this last time she did not want any space between them. She wanted to feel the full weight of his body pressing down on her—to have full contact with the entire length of him—to better commit the feel of every inch of him to her memory.

  As they lay side by side catching their breath, Nena couldn’t help but wonder. With no more herb, would she get with child from this last joining? Why did the thought of it not distress her? Why was she only concerned with the fact that this was the last time she would caress his sculptured shoulders or look into his multicolored eyes. The last time she would feel his touch. The last time she would feel the strength of their connection.

  You must not waver now. Everything has come together. You will not get another chance. Escape this place. Do not allow Jarl’s affections to make you weak.

  The pang of sadness felt like a large hole in her stomach.

  Jarl mistook her melancholic distraction for concern for his safety in the upcoming battle. “Do not worry, my princess.” He kissed her forehead and tenderly stroked a long section of her hair away from the side of her face. “I will return safe. And knowing you are here waiting, I will make this the quickest victory of the raids.”

  Nena did not want him to leave. Did not want this to be the last time she saw him. She kissed him softly on the lips. “Keep your guard up today. Do not let haste leave you open to needless danger,” she murmured.

  Jarl kissed her back, the effect of her unusual gesture evident on his face. His voice was husky with emotion. “When I am with you, I feel…you make me feel as if nothing else matters. Things that were so important to me before, now mean little, and
I could forsake them easily. It is in many ways disturbing to me.”

  The boards rattled, breaking the mood.

  “Jarl? Are you ready?” It was Tryggr.

  “I’ll be out in a moment,” Jarl answered. He grinned at her. “See what you have done. Now I am very late.” He stepped from the bed and dressed quickly. Nena watched as he strapped on his hardened leather armor plate.

  “Jarl? Will you be joining us today?” Tryggr called out again.

  “Be right there.” Jarl returned to the furs and bent over to kiss her one last time. “The men are waiting. I must go.”

  “As must I,” she whispered as the tent flap fell closed behind him.

  AFTER THE LAST of the men had filed from camp, Nena gathered her things for the bath, then waited. She could not afford to arouse suspicion now by acting hastily. She must go about her normal daily activities as if nothing were amiss. The single guard outside the tent acknowledged her as she exited, noted the bath supplies, and nodded. Nena breathed a sigh of relief. Normally the guards paid her little heed, though she was sure they took notice of her comings and goings, but she’d been worried that Jarl might have given some special instruction to watch her more closely in his absence today.

  She returned from the bath and stalled again. Though she was anxious to get as big a lead as possible, she had to make sure that Jarl and the men were far enough away not to hear or respond to the sentry call—if there was one, when she escaped. She went over every step of her plan one last time in her mind. Her biggest unknown, and therefore her biggest concern was, of all things, the reaction of the mother and child to her sudden arrival and ultimatum. What if the girl refused to leave? Or the mother refused to let her go?

  Nena knew it was going to be a shock for them. She prayed the woman would do what was best for the child. She was sure she would, if she had time to think it through, but Nena hadn’t dared forewarn them. She had even tried to think of a way to include the mother in the escape, but had come to the same conclusion as Altene; the mother would be too much. Taking her would require a second horse and that would not only slow her down, it would also double the chances of them being seen. The girl she could take behind her on the mare.

  Finally it was time. Tucking a small waterskin, a pouch of dried meat and a coil of thin rope under her dress, she exited the tent with the normal bread treat she would take to the mare. She didn’t look to the guard for permission, but made sure the treat was clearly visible in her grasp. Nena held her breath, and counted off each step in her mind. One, two, three, four...

  She feared any second to hear the guard’s voice hailing her to return or be accompanied. There was nothing.

  Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen...

  She was almost to the closest row of tents that would block his sight of her. Nineteen, twenty...

  With the tents between them, Nena’s stride lengthened with determination. She was committed now. There would be no going back.

  Nena went straight to the prisoner compound. She was relieved to see very few guards here also, and no one questioned her as she made her way among the captives. The mother and Exanthia were squatted near the remains of a tiny fire in front of a small tent when Nena approached. The mother looked up, shocked and then hopeful as she read the resoluteness on Nena’s face.

  “Apologies,” Nena answered her unspoken question. “I cannot take you both. I only have one horse.”

  Fear, denial, then resignation flitted across the mother’s face as she quickly processed Nena’s words and what they meant for her.

  “I will see that she is well cared for and raised a Teclan. You have my word,” Nena promised. It was an elevation in status far beyond anything the girl could have ever hoped for. Not only would her future be secure, but it would also be far above her humble beginnings. Nena hoped that knowledge would provide some comfort to this mother’s wound.

  The mother nodded and turned to the girl, taking her by the shoulders. “You must not cry, and you must be strong. You will be Teclan now. You must do as Nena tells you, as if she were I. The gods have chosen to spare you.”

  Exanthia’s lower lip began to tremble. Nena looked around nervously to see if their meeting was drawing any attention. No one seemed to be paying them any mind. She was sure that wouldn’t last if the girl began to cry. “We must go,” she urged.

  “My spirit will always be with you, here.” The mother touched Exanthia’s chest with the flat palm of her hand. “That is what you must remember. Not this.” She waved her hand at the camp around them. “You must be brave, as I know you are. And you must live.” The mother reached for Nena’s hand and placed the girl’s hand within it, clasping them together. “Go now,” she said, then turned and disappeared inside their small tent.

  Nena felt the girl stiffen to rebel and gave her hand a gentle but firm reassuring squeeze. She was careful to not squeeze so hard as to feel constricting. Everything hinged on the child’s actions in those next seconds. Both of their lives and futures hung in the balance. Nena took a step and pulled, praying the girl would follow.

  Exanthia choked back a sob, but did not move. Nena waited and held her breath. If the girl refused now or sounded an alarm, her escape would be over before it started. Then, without making another sound, the girl turned and obediently followed her as if in a trance.

  One more hurdle overcome.

  Nena led the way to the horse enclosures. As they approached the pen where her mare was kept, Nena was shocked to find a guard. His back was to them and he was walking away, down the row of mostly empty pens. Her warrior senses evaluated him quickly. Stiff movements indicated an unseen injury, which probably explained his being left behind. His sword was sheathed sloppily at his side, and a dagger was slung haphazardly from his belt. He was clearly not expecting to have need of them this day. Nena hoped he was right.

  He turned around and stopped when he saw them. His hand moved to the hilt of his sword. He made no move in their direction, but eyed her suspiciously, then glanced at the girl. Nena realized his initial reaction had been one of instinct and defense; they had taken him by surprise. Now he seemed more irritated than anything. Nena breathed a small sigh of relief. He was not guarding the mare. Tucked away here, out of sight from the other guards, Nena guessed he’d been looking for a place to take a nap when they had startled him. She acted totally unconcerned with his presence and turned to the mare who had come to greet them.

  “Here she is—the mare Jarl gave to me. Isn’t she as beautiful as I said?” Nena spoke loudly to Exanthia in the Northmen’s tongue, though she doubted the child understood a word. She didn’t need to. The words were not for her. “And here are her brushes. You can help me groom her today,” Nena continued, as she bent over to pick up the two brushes that were on the ground outside the pen.

  Though she pretended to pay him no mind, Nena carefully gauged the guard’s response to her words from the corner of her eye. Every fiber in her body tingled. She did not want to kill him, but if he moved against them now, she would have no choice—and it would have to be quick. He must not be allowed to cry out. Her fingers and palm already itched for the hilt of his dagger. Her shoulder already imagined making the upward sweeping arch to draw the blade across his throat.

  Nena untied the gate to the mare’s pen and pulled it open, but remained in the entryway, balanced lightly on the balls of her feet. The guard muttered something unintelligible under his breath and limped away. Soon he was around the corner and out of sight.

  Nena closed her eyes and exhaled. Thank the gods. That could have been disastrous. She continued to make small talk with the girl under the subterfuge of a grooming demonstration, in case the guard was still close enough to hear, but Nena was moving quickly now. She removed the small coil of rope from under her dress and rigged a slip knot loop on the mare’s lower jaw. Then she ran the long end of the rope over the horse’s head behind her ears and back down through the jaw loop on the other side, forming a makeshift rope bridle. It on
ly gave her one rein, but Nena could not risk trying to retrieve the mare’s real bridle and saddle. And one rein would be enough; the mare was so sensitive to Nena’s commands, she probably could have been guided with no bridle at all.

  Taking one last glance in the direction the guard had disappeared, Nena grabbed a handful of mane and swung onto the mare’s bare back. She reached down and quickly pulled the girl up behind her. “Lean down against me and hang on tight,” she whispered as she leaned forward and pressed her own face into the horse’s mane. “And no matter what happens, do not make a sound.”

  Lying flat against the mare’s neck with the young girl plastered to her back, Nena wrapped one hand tightly in a section of the horse’s thick dark gray mane. Using her legs, she guided the mare out of the pen and into the herd of spare horses that had not been taken to battle. A few of the animals raised their heads and eyed the newcomers with mild interest before returning to grazing.

  Nena felt as if she would explode. Every nerve in her body was taut as a bowstring. She wanted desperately to gallop, but kept the mare to a slow walk as they quietly moved among the other horses. Any second she expected to hear a warning horn followed by multiple coordinating whistles. She lay poised to dig her heels into the mare’s flanks and ask her for top speed when the alarms came, but the only sound continued to be their muffled hoof-beats in the soft soil.

  Nena pointed the mare south for two reasons. The battle was going on somewhere to the north, so the remaining sentries should naturally have more of their attention focused in that direction. She also knew from her rides with Jarl that the river to the south cut a notch in the hillside. Once she made it past that ridge, she would be out of sight of even the most outlying sentries.

  Nena held her breath, knowing each step was critical progress toward their success. The slow moving horse in the group of horses had yet to attract any attention, even with the slouched riders on its back. Soon they were approaching the southernmost edge of the picket line fence that kept the spare horses corralled—the single last obstacle to their freedom.