Garth

by Sassa Daniels

  Forcing herself into action, Ytha put on her coarse linen tunic and went to wash with the last of the water in the bucket by the door. She splashed a few icy droplets on her face, and it seemed to bring her to life. She dried her hands and face with a linen cloth and went to finish dressing. To get to her clothes, she had to remove Garth’s things from the top of the trunk. As she did so, she spotted a beautifully carved wooden box. It was wrong to open it without her husband’s permission, of course it was, but she did it all the same.

  Several exquisite pieces of jewellery lay inside, some gold bracelets and brooches a man might wear to fasten his cloak. There were also some pretty, feminine necklaces fashioned from silver and gold, brooches inlaid with fine stones, and a couple of ornate rings. She also found a beautiful ornament to be worn in the hair, carved out of whalebone. Her husband, it seemed, had amassed quite a hoard of treasure in his time. She snapped shut the lid of the box, feeling guilty about having intruded. If he had wanted her to see these pretty objects, he would surely have shown them to her. Pulling a dress from the trunk, she put it on and quickly replaced Garth’s things on top of the box. Then she picked up the bucket from beside the door and stepped outside.

  She was surprised to find a man standing there, as though waiting for something.

  “I am Alarik,” he told her, “friend to Garth.”

  “I am pleased to meet you, Alarik, friend of Garth.”

  The man grinned at her, and she found tension she hadn’t realised was there, releasing from her shoulders.

  “Garth boasted of your ability to speak our language, but I must confess I did not believe him.”

  “He boasted of it?”

  “Amongst other things.” Alarik’s eyes glinted mischievously as he spoke. “Tell me, you are sister to Thorolf’s bride, are you not?”

  “I am.”

  “Why does she not speak Norse?”

  “We did not grow up together,” Ytha said, hoping the involuntary grimace forming on her face would convince the man to pursue that topic no further.

  “Ah, but why are you not teaching her now?” Alarik asked. “Thorolf has had to enlist me for the task.”

  “It is not easy to teach things to people you love. Tempers fray, and things are said but not meant. Strangers are not wounded so gravely by a few harsh words.”

  Alarik nodded approvingly.

  “You are as wise as you are beautiful, my lady. My friend is a lucky man.”

  “Indeed I am.”

  Blushing at Alarik’s words, Ytha turned to Garth who had managed to come up behind her without her hearing. He bent and placed a tender kiss on her cheek, as though nothing bad had passed between them last night.

  “Good morning, wife.”

  “I am going to get some water,” Ytha blurted out, her eyebrows knitting in consternation at his unexpected good humour. “From the well.”

  Quickly walking away, she left him to speak to his friend. She couldn’t help but wonder if he had arranged to meet Alarik so he would not have to talk to her about last night. He would not wish to air their problems before an audience. When she looked back over her shoulder, the two men were deep in conversation. She shook her head despairingly and hurried on towards the village.

  “I cannot believe you preferred to sleep on the beach last night rather than with that little beauty,” Alarik commented.

  “It was a nice night,” Garth said defensively. “The stars were out.”

  “Stars!” Alarik almost doubled over with laughter. “By Thor’s mighty prick, that is the funniest thing I have heard in a while.”

  “Leave Thor out if it,” Garth growled, but he, too, laughed at the pathetic excuse with which he’d attempted to fob off his friend.

  “You fought?” Alarik guessed.

  “We did, but it is over now.”

  He had walked away last night and given them both the time they needed to cool off.

  “For you, perhaps.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It is never over for a woman until you have talked about it. At the very least, she will make you grovel like a dog before she lets you into her bed again.”

  Garth scoffed at that. Perhaps that was how things were between Alarik and the wife he had left back home, but it was not how he would be with Ytha. As far as he was concerned, the matter was over with. There would be no pointless dissection of what had happened between them, and he would make no grovelling apologies. If she did not like the type of man he was, she could go to Brandr and ask to be divorced from him. If she made a strong enough case, Brandr might allow it, but the church she had made her vows before would never agree. They were stuck with each other until death came for one of them and they would both have to make the best out of the situation. For his part, he was not unhappy with how things were going so far. Some problems were to be expected early on, but he would show her who was boss, and things would settle down.

  “It is to discuss beds that I asked you here.”

  Alarik quirked a curious eyebrow at him.

  “I need to build something more suitable. I would not let a pig sleep on the bed she has in there.”

  “Nor would she, if last night is anything to go by,” Alarik quipped.

  Garth narrowed his eyes as the other man laughed. He clenched his fists by his sides, took a deep breath, and let go of his anger. Alarik was a friend, but another man would find himself knocked flat on his arse for a similar comment.

  “Anyway,” he said, shrugging it off, “I need you to help me build a new bed.”

  “Of course,” Alarik said. “What is it you want me to do?”

  Ytha took her time fetching the water from the well and purposely took a longer route than was necessary to get back to the cottage. Feeling awkward about how things had gone last night, she was in no hurry to be alone with Garth. However, when she returned, she discovered it would not be an issue, as Alarik was still there. Bent over the earth, drawing something with a stick, the two men were clearly up to something, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what. She took the bucket of water into the house and set it down. There were things she could do indoors, but it was a fine day, so she fetched a wicker basket and went outside, heading towards the trees.

  “Where are you going?” Garth asked, not even bothering to look up at her.

  “To gather some berries.”

  “Stay where I can see you,” he commanded.

  “Yes, husband,” she replied through gritted teeth.

  There were plenty of berries in the bushes close to the house, but it irritated her that he was telling her where she could and couldn’t go. She picked some plump red berries and placed them in her bucket, but the thought of obeying Garth’s decree niggled at her. She looked back just as he and Alarik walked off together, towards the village. So much for staying where he could see her!

  Just thinking about the man, her blood boiled, and she knew she had to speak to someone about him before she went mad. Ailsa was an obvious choice, but Ytha knew her sister would try to be the voice of reason and see things from both sides. Ytha needed to vent her frustrations with someone who would be wholly on her side. Whether Garth liked it or not, she was going to go and speak with Nessa.

  Throwing the basket down on the ground so the berries spilled everywhere, she picked up her skirts and ran, deeper into the forest. After a mile or so, she slowed to a walk. There was a rustling in the trees, and she froze. It was foolish to have come so far into the woods without even a dagger for protection. She spun on her heel and found a wolf sitting a few feet away, regarding her with curiosity.

  “Shadow,” she said with a sigh, recognising the wolf that had developed a fondness for her sister, “you startled me.”

  The animal cocked his head as though he understood every word she said. Ailsa swore the beast was more intelligent than most men. That would not be difficult. Ytha held her hand out in a gesture of friendship, and the wolf came and sniffed it before giving it a lick.
>
  Ytha wiped her hand on her dress and shook her head reproachfully at the creature.

  “It’s Ailsa who loves you, not me,” she said when the beast looked mournfully at her, “and I have no treats to give you.”

  If she didn’t know better, she would have sworn that Shadow shrugged as though it was of no consequence that she had nothing to give. She walked once more, and Shadow padded along behind her. She smiled to herself. Who needed a dagger when they had such an intimidating protector?

  As they neared Nessa’s hut, Shadow suddenly leapt in front of her, his hackles raised, and his teeth bared. Ytha’s heart pounded when she, too, sensed danger.

  “What is it, Shadow?”

  A man emerged from the trees ahead of them, and Shadow snarled viciously. It was not until he got a little closer that Ytha realised it was Giric, the man who’d been her only lover before Garth. He came from a village several days’ walk away, where she and Nessa had often gone to trade her handmade charms for food. He was a nice lad, but a little cautious for Ytha’s liking. It was unlike him to venture so far from home.

  “It’s all right, Shadow.” She laid a soothing hand on the wolf’s head. “He’s a friend.”

  At least, she thought he was. She had not seen him since the last harvest.

  “Ytha,” Giric greeted, staring nervously at Shadow who growled at his approach. “It’s been too long.”

  “It has. What brings you here?”

  “I’ve come to warn you that there have been strangers sighted in these parts. Already, they’ve burned villages, slaughtered women and children without mercy.”

  Ytha’s brow furrowed. She wondered if he was talking about the Vikings her people had made the pact with. She thought hard for a minute. No, it could not possibly be them. They might be strangers, but they had committed no slaughter of women and children.

  “They come from the west.”

  “Scots?” Ytha guessed. They had overrun much of the country already. In fact, it was three generations since they had struck out from their power base in Dal Riata and proclaimed their leader King of all Picts. They had not yet conquered the far north, so it might be them. Of course, it might also be Vikings from the Hebrides.

  “Perhaps,” Giric agreed, “or it may be the Nechtain.”

  Clearly Giric did not know that the Vikings had already dealt with the threat from the Nechtain. It must be someone else who encroached upon their borders. Sometimes, Ytha felt overwhelmed by the sheer number of enemy forces who might slit their throats while they slept. She scrunched her nose up as she thought about it. If a new threat existed, it was odd she had not sensed it. Perhaps her marriage to that oaf, Garth, had dulled her senses.

  “You need someone to take care of you, Ytha.”

  Giric laid a hand on her arm. She looked up into his eyes and realised he was offering to be the one to protect her. It would be cruel to laugh since he was being so sincere, but she almost couldn’t help herself. Compared with Garth, he was a mere boy. There was scarcely an ounce of muscle on Giric, and a stiff breeze would probably knock him off his feet.

  “I have someone to take care of me.”

  “Indeed she does.”

  Ytha turned. She really wished Garth would stop sneaking up on her like this. A man of his size should not be able to move so quietly. His arrival had not even been detected by Shadow. Either that, or the wolf had not perceived him as a threat.

  “Garth, this is my friend, Giric,” Ytha said nervously. “Giric, this is my husband, Garth.”

  “Husband?” Giric said in dismay.

  She could not work out why he sounded so distraught, since he had been the one to reject her after they had lain together.

  “You have whored yourself out to a Viking?”

  Ytha gasped at the insult, but Garth lunged. Before she knew what was happening, her husband had Giric pinned up against a tree, his hand wrapped around his throat. Shadow growled, but Ytha put her hand on his back, and he settled.

  “My wife is no whore.”

  Garth squeezed his throat, turning Giric’s face a startling shade of red. Ytha had to put a stop to this. If he killed him, it would be cold-blooded murder. She wasn’t sure what the Viking penalty for that might be, but she knew if he committed such a crime, she would never forgive him.

  “Garth, please, let him go. He’s of no consequence.”

  Ytha approached him carefully and put her hand on his arm.

  “Please, he’s nobody.”

  Her legs almost crumpled beneath her in relief when Garth let Giric go.

  “Run, boy,” Garth growled. “I will not show mercy twice.”

  As Giric disappeared into the trees, Garth rounded on Ytha. She had never seen such anger. She held her hands up in appeal for lenience. He looked as though he might thrash her to within an inch of her life. Before either of them could move, Shadow growled viciously and stalked towards them. Garth drew a knife from his belt. It seemed that he had not come unarmed.

  “No!” Ytha screamed, distracting him. “Run, Shadow, run!”

  The wolf cocked his head at her as though trying to decide.

  “Run,” she pleaded, “please, Shadow, run.”

  Thankfully, the wolf chose to heed her. He turned tail and disappeared into the trees. Garth stared at her in amazement.

  “You are a witch.”

  Ytha shook her head in denial. “He understands basic commands. He is Ailsa’s wolf.”

  That was not strictly true. Shadow was very much his own wolf, coming and going as he pleased, but he had formed a strong attachment to her sister.

  “Does Thorolf know of this?”

  Ytha shrugged. She had no idea if Ailsa had told her husband that she was some sort of wolf whisperer.

  “I want you to stay away from that creature. They cannot be trusted.” He reached out and took her by the chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Nor, it seems, can you. Not only do I find you cannot obey a simple instruction to stay put, but I then discover you deep in the woods with another man. Tell me, when did you arrange this meeting?”

  “I didn’t. I was on my way to see Nessa when I met Giric.”

  “He is not from your village,” Garth said suspiciously. “How do you know him?”

  “We were friends, once.”

  “He is the man you gave your virginity to.”

  Ytha almost flinched at the disgust on Garth’s face.

  “Yes, he is,” she said defensively, “but he is nothing to me now, just as Maud is nothing to you.”

  Having made it impossible for him to say any more on the subject without wandering down a dangerous path, she tossed her head defiantly.

  “Now, I would like to go and see Nessa. Giric warned me of danger, and I want to tell her to seek somewhere safer to stay.”

  To her surprise, Garth did not argue. It was a measure of the type of man he was, that he would put her friend’s safety above his anger.

  “Where can she go?”

  “I would ask her to come to the village, but she has sworn not to stay there as long as Feidelm lives.” Seeing the question on Garth’s face, Ytha shrugged. “I don’t know why, but they hate each other. I will have to tell her to seek refuge in the abandoned broch. It’s secure enough for a few days. People tend to avoid it since they fear it as a place of the dead.”

  “Very well, we will go to your friend and deliver the warning,” Garth said. “But then you will submit to punishment. You have a thrashing coming to you and you will take it without complaint, do you hear me?”

  “Yes,” Ytha said resignedly. “I hear you, husband.”

  As they walked towards the village, Ytha was quiet. She had persuaded the old woman to head for safety, and Garth had to admit he felt better knowing Nessa would at least try to avoid suffering a violent death. He could tell she meant a lot to his wife and that her loss would be devastating, and so he, too, would worry about what happened to her.

  The closer they got to their cottage, the mo
re nervous his wife became. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her wringing her hands. He did not intend to wait until they reached home to administer her punishment. His gaze scanned the forest up ahead for a suitable place and, when he found it, he ordered her to stop.

  “Take your clothes off.”

  She halted abruptly, startled by his command.

  “What? Here?”

  “Here,” Garth confirmed. “Now. I would have you bare for this punishment.”

  “But someone might see.”

  “I dislike that thought as much as you do, but you have brought this upon yourself. Perhaps a little humiliation will teach you to do as you’re told.”

  Ytha’s hands shook, but she followed his command, removing her clothes and placing them neatly on a nearby tree stump. When she had taken off her dress, she turned to him, her eyes widening as she saw he held a length of rope. Clearly, she had not seen that he had it looped in his belt. He had planned to tie it around a large log to drag it back to the house for his bed-building project, but this was a much better use.

  “Hands.”

  Obediently, she held her hands out in front of her. He pushed her wrists together and tied a length of rope around them, knotting it tightly enough that she would not wriggle free, but not so tightly as to damage her delicate skin. Satisfied with the way she was bound, he stood back and examined her.

  “Spread your legs wide.”

  She did as he’d asked, and he walked around her, inspecting her closely. Her nipples were hard, and despite the fear in her eyes, there was also arousal. With her legs spread wide, he could see glistening on her inner thighs, evidence that her cunt dripped with desire. She knew that pain was coming and, it seemed, her body craved it.

  He gave her a look that told her to stay exactly where she was and he went to cut a switch from the branch of a nearby hazel tree. Taking his time, he stripped down the bark and then cut another and another until he had six sticks to bundle together. A long piece of rope hung free from Ytha’s bound wrists, so he cut some away and wrapped it around one end of the bundle of sticks to create a handle.