In Thrall to the Viking

by M. E. Sháen

I settled on the ground next to Eowils's right leg to speak quietly to Mathilda.

  "Halfdan, she is a thrall."

  "Wait." His hand rose to stop Eowils from intervening.

  "For what?"

  Matilda smiled at me as she leaned down to kiss my forehead. I nodded at her.

  "Be at peace," I whispered. The blade slipped between her ribs without hesittion.

  Eowils jumped up, spilling the dying woman to the floor and making me leap to my feet.

  Halfdan rose, put his arm out and I ran to his side.

  "What the fuck, Halfdan?" Eowils kicked her away. He turned on me. "You. Bitch. Give me that."

  "It is hers. I gave it to her."

  Eowils practically choked. "You what?" He roared.

  "I gave it to her. It belongs to her."

  Eowils shook his head. "You gave this bitch a knife? Have you lost your mind?"

  "She did not wish to see her friend sold into the life of a thrall. She chose to ease her friend along to her heaven."

  Eowils gaped at this explanation. "You, you," he let out a deep breath. "Halfdan, you have lost your wits. May the gods help you. You armed her, and she will surely try to end you next."

  He stormed off, leaving Halfdan and me alone.

  "Sit."

  I all but fell onto the chair Eowils vacated. He knelt before me to rub my arms.

  "Nerys Elen."

  I lifted my gaze to his.

  "You made a choice. Now you must live with it."

  "She asked to die. She asked me to kill her." I felt numb, but also angry that someone as innocent as Mathilda would prefer death to this life and these men.

  "And you chose to help her."

  I nodded and turned my gaze from him to the bloody blade, which he plucked from my fingers, wiped the blade on his leg, then handed it back.

  "You will let me keep it?"

  "Choose wisely always, Nerys Elen. You may keep it but I will turn its blade on you should you try to use it on me."

  I blinked, I was coming to understand he meant to test me at every turn. Seemingly amused, he smiled.

  "A drink?"

  I could only nod.

  6

  He gestured for another mug as he sat once more. "Tell me, vixen. How did you come to be so good with a knife?"

  I turned my gaze to him once more. Who was he to ask such questions? I took him to be the leader of these people, but he relaxed amongst them and not upon the raised chairs before the fire pit. Those remained yet empty. I wondered who among them was truly their leader for none took up the part.

  He waited, his own brooding stare on the violence that played out before us. Here a woman being raped, there was a man, a priest I barely knew, being held to hot iron. And above, in the loft, I could hear rather than see, a woman screamed as men laughed. The one who had been hanging from the rafters had been dropped at some point and now lay, a broken mess in the middle of the hall. Certainly, this served as proof of his cruelty.

  "Before they came," I looked at Mathilda's body before us. "The priests, I mean. Before they came, my father taught me to wield weapons."

  "What else did he teach you?"

  I moved closer to him, scooted to the edge of the chair. "I was to be warrior kind. I was not oldest, not yet expected to wed and bed."

  "Yes?" He glanced at me, then back to the spectacle. "Were you? Becoming a warrior?"

  "Yes." I nodded. "You do not believe me."

  "I believe you, Nerys Elen. Among my people, there are women who choose to be warriors. We call them shieldmaidens."

  "Shieldmaidens?"

  He signaled for me to go on.

  "When they came, the priests I mean, they brought destruction. They burned our crops and killed any men who would not bow to their god. They took my sisters and me to the monastery where you found me."

  "This was long ago?"

  "I had twelve years, perhaps."

  He glanced at me once more. "And you are now?" A gentle prod.

  I shook my head. "Twenty."

  "Twenty?" His brows rose. "They did not wed you off?"

  "I was not deemed worthy to be a wife." I shrugged. "I refused their god. I believe not the fairy tales they speak. They said no man would want a wanton sinner such as I."

  He laughed. "I am quite certain that is not the truth, vixen."

  The hint of a smile lifted my lips. "No. It seems some men would want a woman like me very much."

  I gestured outward at what happened around us. "Enough to spare me other than to be witness to this?"

  He turned an appraising look on me. "And you feel what about that?"

  "I still want to hurt you." I found no reason not to tell him the truth. I did want to hurt him. But I wanted to understand him, too. What sort of man armed me with a knife, bid me use it, then allowed me to keep it after I had attacked him over and over again?

  "But not kill me?"

  "Perhaps not," I allowed.

  "Mm,"

  I turned toward him. "And you, Halfdan? Why do you raid monasteries on Britain's soil?"

  "It is where the silver is."

  "It is hardly the single source of wealth upon that land."

  A lift of one eyebrow and a half-smile bid me go on with that thought.

  "There are many kingdoms ripe for taking. They war amongst themselves with little regard for any outside attack."

  "Is this a fact?"

  "It is. I saw what your men are capable of. Why have you not sought to raid among the kingdoms near the sea?"

  He narrowed his eyes at me. "Such as those slaughtered by the followers of their Christ god? Your own home would be a target of it."

  I pushed my lips, brows drawn together in a frown. "They are not my people on those shores, Halfdan. They are the ones who subjugated mine. Do not mistake me for their ilk."

  He inclined his head at that. "I shall not again."

  Satisfied with that, I settled back into the chair to once more take in our surroundings.

  The heat had become a palpable thing, full of the smell of sweat and sex, spilled ale and mead, soot, and the ever-present tinny aroma of shed blood.

  I remained impassive, face a careful blank to hide how unsure I felt. It seemed far safer than attempt to ask further questions. He was part of this world made for men. He was part of a people who thought nothing of violence. And I was too mouthy, too quick to anger, too easily swayed by emotion to survive for long should he not take to me. Eowils had the right of it, I caused trouble for myself.

  He watched me as I took in everything.

  "Why do you stare at me?"

  "You are here to be looked at, vixen. You would prefer I stop looking and take you?"

  I shook my head. "Why have you taken no other wife?"

  "There are many women to do what I need."

  "Is it all you want? The warmth of a woman's thighs?" I shot him a look full of scorn.

  He leaned back with a broad smile. "I need little more. With Eowils and the freemen who farm the distant fields of my lands, the thralls we keep, what other needs have I?"

  "You are a bewildering man."

  "I am hardly confounding, Nerys Elen. My needs are few. I find those who will satisfy them."

  I scanned the crowd. Men were now falling down drunk and those who were not yet too drunk were quite obviously engaged in other endeavors.

  "You are not like them. But they are your people," I murmured.

  "I am like them. I am a Dane."

  I shook my head, my hair brushing his arm. "You are not."

  "How so?" He propped his chin on my shoulder. "Tell me, vixen. What makes me different in your sight?"

  I shrugged him off. "You watch everything." I pointed with my mug. "They fuck and ruin the spoils they brought home. They waste coin on drink. Why bother? You have not, yet at least. Or that I yet saw."

  He nodded for me to go on, and though he did not smile, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

  "You gave me some choice in how
I am treated here."

  "Perhaps because I believe you to be worth more to me the way that you are."

  "Perhaps," I shook my head as if it didn't matter.

  He put his head on my shoulder again. "I will not hesitate to hurt you should you defy me."

  "You said."

  "You believe me now. That's good."

  I did believe him. I had seen what he was capable of. But, I had seen what I was capable of too.

  "Halfdan, why did you say to kill Mathilda?"

  He considered that a long time, long enough that I thought he would not answer the question. Finally, he merely raised his shoulders and gave me a smile.

  "I wished to see what kind of woman you are." He studied me a moment. "Why did you do it?"

  I let my gaze fall to where Mathilda still lay, as if asleep, upon the floor. Death appeared everywhere, what might one more mean to them? But to me?

  "It is as I said, this would be hell for her."

  "You said she was not your friend."

  "She was kinder than the others and innocent of the ways of men. Innocent of death. She always thought something good existed outside the walls of the monastery. She thought that her God would save those who did not yet see."

  "You sent her to her god."

  I frowned at him. "It was better that she does not experience this."

  "It seemed easy enough for you to do." He nodded as if he understood what I felt. "Killing came easier than watching her suffer?"

  Whatever feeling he gave rise to in me disappeared. I was on him instantly, knife to his throat. He leaned away from it, never taking his gaze from mine.

  "I said not to try this," he reminded in his soft voice.

  "I hate you."

  He snatched my hand tightly, squeezed it until I yelped in pain and dropped the weapon. Then he smacked me across the face.

  "Do it again and I will give you to them. See how are you treated then."

  He shoved me off himself as if I weighed nothing. I landed on my ass on the floor and stayed there to seethe in anger as he took the knife up to slip into his belt.

  7

  I remained on the floor, sullen and silent.

  "A drink, vixen?"

  I turned away, to look at the body of the dead nun. Mathilda had not been a true friend, but she had been kind to me. I believed her better off not to suffer at the hands of these heathens. I said my final goodbye to her soul.

  "As you wish it."

  A man, eyes rimmed in thick kohl that circled them darkly, rushed over. "Halfdan! Here you are, hiding!" He eyed me curiously. "You brought the thrall?"

  "I wonder to myself now why I bothered."

  I straightened at his words, though my stare stayed anywhere but on him.

  The other man sat in the vacated chair. "Jarl Thorsson is said to seek you out. What did you do?"

  Halfdan pursed his lips. "As I was tasked, no more. I've not had a word to the farm, Erick. You are certain of this?"

  "What I heard," he agreed. He leaned down to peer at me. "Does she speak?"

  "Nerys Elen,"

  If looks could kill, I thought and raised one brow. "Halfdan of the Danes."

  Erick giggled. "She hates you."

  "Mm, not enough to try to kill me,"

  I let my eyes narrow to show him that was no longer true.

  "Do you speak?" This addressed to me.

  I shot a glance at Erick. "Do you stop?"

  "Yet still you do not learn?" Halfdan leaned forward and popped me in the side of the head. "You will keep a civil tongue or I will cut it out."

  I opened my mouth to retort and thought better of that when he settled one hand on the knife he'd taken from me. I snarled instead.

  "She's not from the god house?"

  "She is," Halfdan's reply was short. I ground my teeth and it seemed that he could hear. "They could do little with her."

  Erick's unhinged laugh made me shake my head. "Will you have better luck?"

  "If her gods wish her to remain alive,"

  "Not one of the Christ gods women, then?"

  Halfdan sighed and sat back. "No. She is not. What of the one you kept?"

  Erick settled his feet on edge of the chair in which he sat to peer at me from between his canted knees. "Oh, sleeping in the hay."

  "You see, vixen?"

  My gaze met his. "Better certainly than the alternative,"

  He clucked his tongue. "What did I say about civil?"

  A deep breath was my only reply.

  "Does she pray?"

  "What?" Halfdan looked over at his friend. "To whom?"

  "Blythe prays to her god all the time. I say to her that the fish need cleaning, and she prays. I say to mend the nets, she prays."

  "Blythe is a child."

  Halfdan snapped his attention to me. "A child?"

  "Fourteen summers, an oblate yet to their god."

  "What is oblate?"

  "It is the name for the girls before they are novices."

  "And what is a novice? Be clear, vixen."

  I sighed at the demand. Halfdan, it seemed, sought and expected knowledge.

  "Girls are oblate, then a novice, then nun. That is the way," I shrugged. "Not novice until at least fourteen summers. Blythe would become a novice perhaps this year. You stole that from her."

  "It is not all we stole,"

  An almost imperceptible shake of my head greeted this. "No, it is not." I turned to Erick. "She is likely afraid. Never would she have been alone. The oblates roomed together. She prays to find solace. Her god means much."

  "More than her life?" Erick had leaned closer. "Why?"

  "Because they believe what they were taught. Do you not seek to speak with your gods?"

  "Halfdan does,"

  At this, I shifted my eyes toward him and back. "And you?" I demanded of Erick.

  "The gods do as they will. It is only for me to make offerings." He stretched out. "Halfdan, perhaps this thrall can make Blythe feel more at home here?"

  "Bring her tomorrow." He said with a shake of his head.

  Whatever else he meant to say was lost in a loud greeting.

  "You brought us a gift, Halfdan!"

  I lifted my head to find another man, much more richly dressed, standing over him. He rose slowly as Erick hopped to his feet.

  "We had much success,"

  As far as that went, it was perfectly true. They'd brought back silver, much in the manner of symbols to the Christ god stolen off the monastery altar, but silver nonetheless. A handful of women had been brought back, though this man would likely not give two coins about us. He was in it for the money and the wordfame, I knew the moment I laid eyes upon him.

  The other man frowned and confirmed my thoughts on the matter.

  "What of this one? She is yours?"

  "I need extra hands at the farm."

  "And she is worth how much?" The man's gaze upon me was full of scrutiny and not a little lust.

  Halfdan was careful not to turn to me. "Her use at the farm is worth more than silver this season, Jarl Thorsson. I assure you. The harvest looks to be good. I need the help."

  "And those children? No wife yet?"

  Impassive, he shrugged. "None yet. The woman can tend them for me as well."

  "Perhaps my house needs of a new thrall."

  I saw Halfdan dig his nails into his palms.

  Thorsson turned to him, dismissed the thought of me for the moment. "What did you bring, other than the women from your raid?"

  "There is silver and coin."

  "And yet," he moved closer to Halfdan. "You are seen as a leader. Men want to crew your ships. For silver and coin?"

  "The men always return, Jarl Thorsson."

  "Halfdan has the luck of the gods," Erick added.

  Halfdan looked as though he wished the other man had stayed quiet. He shrugged with a little smile.

  "The gods," Thorsson tasted the words. "You seek above your station?"

  "No. I wish only
to keep my farm, raise my children, and raid when the seas are warm."

  "You have land many others would want, Halfdan. Have I not been generous to you?"

  "You have, Jarl Thorsson."

  The other man frowned. "See to it that you keep it in mind." He tapped the ring that circled Halfdan's wrist.

  He moved on and Halfdan breathed a sigh.

  "He rules you?"

  He shut his eyes a moment, then met my curious ones. "He is a capable leader, owns much land, and expects fealty from those he protects."

  "A king?"

  "A jarl."

  "Sounds like a king." I turned away to watch the drinking to dismiss him utterly.

  He sat, seemingly no longer so certain of anything. Erick leaned toward him. "I think this one is trouble."

  "Hm." He drank without comment. Perhaps he too believed I was trouble for him.

  Eventually, Erick wandered off in search of someone more amenable to talk with. Halfdan studied me in silence.

  He made no effort to talk to me, gave almost monosyllabic answers to those who came to chat, and summarily refused further offers to buy me, though not without suggesting that I might be better off with another man, to which I said nothing.

  Finally, half-drunk, he yanked me to my feet.

  "We're going home."

  I blinked at him, weary and awakened from a doze, suddenly aware I had rested my head against his knee.

  With a smirk, he gave me a tug to get me moving.

  I remained silent as we walked the path that led to his home. And he said nothing to me at all.

  Once inside, he hooked my chain to the bed and without a word, went to sleep beneath the furs and left me to do whatever I wanted.

  It was, I realized, either get beneath the furs with him or sleep on the floor.

  I would take the floor. I drew as close to the fire as possible, the chain pulled as far as it would go and curled up on the raised hearth. I fell asleep shivering before the low flames.

  Sometimes later, I half woke to find the fire was mere embers now, Halfdan lifted me.

  "Come vixen, you will freeze here."

  I rolled into his chest and warmth without a sound. He carried me to bed, piled furs atop me, then got in beside me to wrap his arm around me and hold me to himself.

  I sighed and pressed to his warmth, already near asleep once more. He fell asleep with his nose in my hair.