In Thrall to the Viking

by M. E. Sháen

  He found me as I headed toward the lake.

  “Vixen?”

  I groaned, then spit.

  He sat next to me. “Better?”

  “No.”

  “You’ve nothing more in your belly.”

  I groaned again and settled next to him. “Food makes me want to vomit.”

  I shifted to rest beneath his arm. “What of the raids this summer?”

  He let his gaze drift to the water.

  “Soon, vixen. Already, men are prepared.”

  “And Thorsson?”

  “Knows nothing.”

  I smoothed my hand down his thigh. “This king Sigfred, what of him?”

  He remained silent, one hand absently stroked me, the other remained palm down on his thigh.

  “You will no longer wear this when you are earl?” I touched the band on his wrist.

  “No. Others will wear mine.”

  “Is it what you seek, Halfdan?”

  One side of his mouth rose in a smile. “Power? Yes. I would be jarl.”

  He smiled when I kissed the edge of his mouth.

  “Then go, do what you must and return in triumph.”

  “I will.”

  We sat together while behind us the family started the day. It was easy to sit with him in silence. I let my mind wander as I looked out over the lake.

  That he had not yet asked me if the oracle’s words were truly surprised me and made me wonder if he was even aware. I was uncertain how to bring it up or even if I should, as he was leaving soon to go on a raid.

  “You should eat, wife. Bread will settle your stomach. There’s yet much work to be done this day and we are of no help so long as we sit here.”

  I put my hand on his arm to stop him from rising. “Halfdan. I would yet speak to you.”

  “Very well.” He turned his tired, though sharp-eyed, gaze on me and smiled. “Is it that now we are wed you prefer I not go on long raiding voyages?”

  “Of course not. You will go with my blessings.”

  He nibbled his nails as he studied me.

  “Then perhaps it is that you fear I will be harmed and unable to return to you?”

  “Where do you get these ideas, Hringrson?” I shook hair away from my face. “I have no such fears about you.”

  He slid one arm about me and drew me to his side. “I suppose it's nothing to do with the child in your womb?”

  I smacked him on the shoulder. “I wondered if you heard those words.”

  That only earned me the lift of his shoulders.

  “What of it, Halfdan? Are you pleased?”

  “Am I pleased you carry my child?”

  He gaped at me before lifting me onto his lap to wrap his arms around my still flat belly.

  “Any man is glad of a child got upon his wife, Nerys Elen. I am no different. You will gift me another son or daughter to carry my legacy. I am pleased, yes.”

  “Will it change you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  A little sigh escaped me, to which he responded by smoothing my hair.

  “I mean, I fear the knowledge I carry your child in me may change the way you do battle. Will it?”

  “No.” I felt his breath before he placed a gentle kiss on the back of my neck.

  “I have more to fight for now. I have a new wife and a child to come.”

  “Tell me something, Halfdan Hringrson.” I shifted so that I could trace the stitching down the front of his tunic. “If I kept a truth from you, would it anger you?”

  His gaze drifted from my mouth to my eyes and back once again. He knew I would not say such a thing without reason and he will let me come to it in my own time.

  I turned further to slip my fingers into the tie holding his tunic shut, watched it loosen as I toyed with it.

  “Nerys Elen.” He prompted me quietly.

  I met his gaze, then went back to watching as the tie continued to loosen. I felt him breathe a laugh before he put his hand over mine.

  “You know I went to the monastery only after the men of my family were slaughtered.”

  He nodded and traced a line across the top of my hand.

  “We lived in Din Eidyn. It was far north of the monastery. My sisters and I were taken far away so that our kin could not raise us up in rebellion.”

  “And why would they raise you up in rebellion?”

  He did not look at me, only watched as he continued to draw lines across my hand and arm, but I knew he listened with intense concentration.

  “The name you speak for me? Nerys Elen.”

  “Mmhm.”

  “I am called Elen after my mother. Nerys means only lady in the tongue of my youth.”

  “Lady Elen. And then why were you called so by the Saxons if it is not your name?”

  I shrugged, my eyes rising no further than the base of his throat.

  “It was not a language they spoke.”

  I shook my head. “It was not.”

  “And a lady is the wife of a lord?” He pushed.

  “Yes. The word is fruha?”

  He nodded, his own gaze still not on mine. His fingers had reached the bend of my elbow and he drew circles there.

  “Nobility.”

  Now it was my turn to nod.

  “And so, the Saxons took you from your home to the farthest place they could find to keep you from sparking rebellion among your people.”

  “Yes.”

  “I see.”

  “You are not angry?”

  “Why would I be angry that you are of noble blood?”

  I said nothing.

  He put his fingers beneath my chin and lifted so that our eyes met.

  “Elen, you did not speak this earlier. I can hold no anger at you for it. I would do the same were I among those I did not know or trust. Now,” he grinned. “You spoke me your truth and I am glad of it.”

  Relief spread through me at his words.

  He pushed the sleeve of my tunic aside and lifted my arm to his mouth to place gentle kisses along the inside.

  Wanton desire shot through me at his touch.

  “Come, let us get you fed. We will speak more of this later.”

  “Could we not remain here yet a while more?”

  “We will later, I promise it. Now, you must eat and keep well for our child. And for me.”

  27

  The first early summer raid was at the behest of Thorsson. It was strange to be alone again when Halfdan left to lead men to raid villages East of the Danes' land.

  And, when he returned, he complained bitterly about their take, and how the villages they raided had no time to recoup their losses before another raiding season came.

  Eowils too, seemed out of sorts as Thorsson ignored the richer lands of the West for those so long depleted.

  Though I spoke little to the man he was always about, and I grew used to his presence in Halfdan’s company. We had an uneasy truce with one another as we shared a love of his brother.

  When the fields had almost matured, when summer was near its end, Halfdan and Eowils took their men and their new boats and headed West.

  My belly grew round during the summer and it would not be long ere my dresses would not hide it. Halfdan made much of it proud to proclaim it to all within the village.

  So, it was no surprise when women brought me fresh bread and ripened fruit. They knew we would feel his absence in our house, and they were right.

  The bed I shared with him felt far too empty each night after I bid Orlaith and the children goodnight. They and the male thralls now slept outside each evening to escape the hot, stale air of the house, and it made the house seem even more empty than usual.

  One night, a bit more than a week after they left, I woke to the quiet sound of the door coming unlatched. At first, I assumed a child came in, but I could see no candle. The fire was nothing but embers and shed no light. I could only see by what moonlight filtered in through the smoke hole.

  The door hanging twitched a
side and the silhouette of a man came into view. I sat up and called the names of the two thralls.

  It drew the man’s attention, and he crossed the room to me in three steps to clamp his hand over my mouth.

  I struggled and tried to escape his grasp. It only gave him an incentive to thrust my head against the wall.

  I saw stars before my eyes shut with the water that ran from them.

  He slammed my head against the wall once more, then dug beneath my dress with his free hand.

  Dizzy though I was, fighting was my continued thought. I scrabbled on the ground for Halfdan’s axe. He took his hand off my mouth long enough to punch me in the face. It stopped me and I fell senseless to the bed.

  He shoved my dress up and smacked his hand over my mouth again before forcing himself on me. The single thought that stalked me throughout was how Halfdan would react when he returned home.

  When it was done, he stole through Halfdan’s weapons. He returned with a dagger and threatened me. It was then that I got a good look at his face and knew him for a man who lived in his cups in the village. A worthless man who arrived the winter past and wed a woman in town. That he had not gone raiding spoke volumes about his place in our world.

  I said nothing to his threats, and he left, satisfied nothing would come of this.

  I remained abed until I was certain he did not linger in the yard, then went to the lake and walked off the end of the pier into the water. It closed over my head and I sank to the bottom until I ran out of air and had to surface.

  I was more clear-headed after and took my time to wash before returning to the house where Orlaith was just rising to prepare the morning meal.

  I stumbled into the house, my dress a wet tangle around my legs.

  “Nerys Elen?”

  I waved her off, but she ignored me.

  “What happened?”

  She saw my face when she got close enough and gasped before insisting I remove the wet garment and allow her to tend my wounds. While she worked, the story came out in stilted words that did nothing to hide my anger and dismay.

  Orlaith was a calm-minded woman I rarely saw angry. Now though, I bore witness to another side of her as she cursed the man’s name and his family.

  Once satisfied that my wounds would heal and I was once drier, she sat me down at the table.

  “I will be quick, Nerys Elen. Danes all take what they want. Even Halfdan thinks nothing of it, should he desire something that is not his. You are married now and treated well. Do not forget that they are all capable of acts like the one you endured.”

  I stayed silent. Her words meant little to me who was once a thrall taken by the very man I now called husband. I knew, as well as any woman, how these Danes could be when they wanted something. And my attacker would pay for his transgression. I would see to it.

  She insisted that I do not travel alone, and so I took one of the male thralls with me anytime I needed to go into the village. I also carried a fighting dagger on my belt in place of the smaller one I used for work.

  I went about life like before, save those two slight changes. And another week passed before we saw the boats returning from the sea.

  Perhaps I alone saw Thorsson’s heated gaze as the men disbarred, each in a rush to find loved ones. I turned to see what made him scowl and found his murderous eyes upon Halfdan as he joked with Eowils aboard one boat.

  He turned away as the brothers hopped off the boat and headed toward me.

  I was lifted and kissed before I could say a word, and then it seemed unimportant as Halfdan’s smile dropped from his face at the sight of the faded bruises I yet carried.

  He brushed his thumb across my cheek.

  “How did this happen?”

  The story spilled out of me in as few words as possible.

  He spoke a quiet word to his brother.

  “What?” I tugged his hair. “What are you doing?”

  He set me on my feet, gaze on his brother’s back as he made his way through the crowd. “Putting a stop to it.”

  28

  His next stop was Thorsson’s home. I attended as he refused to let go of my hand and I was all but dragged along.

  “Tell Jarl Thorsson that Halfdan Hringrson has returned with wealth to ensure prosperity for Fønn.”

  The little man who answered the door bid us enter. He left us in the big main room of Thorsson’s house.

  Halfdan squeezed my fingers. “Say nothing, vixen. We will speak more later.”

  Thorsson appeared then. The anger I’d seen earlier in his eyes became a weary amusement. He crossed to where we stood.

  “What do you want, Hringrson? I have little time for a man who ignores his betters.”

  Though Halfdan didn’t change expression or speak hard words, I felt anger bubbling beneath the placid surface of his emotional control.

  “There is much plunder, jarl. Much gold and silver and many new thralls.”

  “You went West against my say so.”

  A lift of one shoulder gave all the response anyone needed. Thorsson frowned.

  “And men went willingly.”

  “For the last raid of the season? Yes, they went. And now we are returned with great wealth.”

  “Continue to ignore my wishes and find yourself out of Fønn.”

  Halfdan accepted this with an incline of his head. “I will have the men bring the chests here.”

  “Do that.”

  Without another word, Thorsson turned and left us.

  “Can we go?”

  “Come, vixen. Eowils had time to do my bidding. We are for home.”

  At home, Halfdan greeted his children with many hugs and small trinkets and coins for their purses. His generosity fell even to Orlaith, who was received a necklace of colorful beads.

  He settled into his chair with a cup of ale and bid me sit with him.

  “The raid was successful.”

  “Yes. Your map was good, Elen.”

  I didn’t get the chance to respond as Beirk arrived at our door from the village.

  My gaze went from one man to the other.

  “Beirk. Sit. Drink of my ale. We have seen little of you.”

  He sat and Halfdan nodded.

  “Good. You do well in the village? Your wife? She gives you all you need?”

  Beirk’s stare turned on me only long enough to remind me of his threat should I reveal the rape. I met that gaze with a bland expression.

  “We are good, Halfdan. And happy you returned home successful.”

  “It was a surprise you did not go, Beirk.” He poured the man a cup and offered it. “I thought you needed coin to purchase supplies for the winter.”

  Beirk took the offered cup and drank.

  “Were you able to secure funds elsewhere?”

  Beirk realized he would not get out of this, and so he shook his head. “Not yet. My wife will ask her father.”

  “You should provide for her, Beirk. The raid would have helped with that.”

  “I was not well.”

  “Mm, I did not know.” Halfdan leaned back in his chair. “We ought to help this man out of his trouble. Do you agree?”

  I shook my head.

  Beirk looked between us. “There is no need. I know the Hringrson’s are good men and would do nothing to taint their names.”

  The little parley attracted Orlaith’s attention.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her herd the children toward the back of the house.

  “And you feel better now?” Halfdan asked idly.

  “Yes. My family will come up with the money before winter.”

  “Good. I still believe we owe you a debt, Beirk.”

  The man licked his lips. “No. You owe me no debt.”

  Halfdan rose. “I say that I do. For my wife’s face is yet bruised from your attention while I was gone.”

  Beirk flushed but rose to his feet. “It is a lie, Halfdan. Your wife was far from my mind these few weeks past.”

 
“After you took what you wanted of her?”

  For each small step Halfdan took forward, Beirk took a corresponding step back.

  “No. I took nothing that was not offered me in good faith.”

  I shook my head, mouth agape. Halfdan lifted his hand toward me to silence me before I spoke.

  “You say my wife told you to come here and have her in my bed?”

  “She was lonely.”

  “It is a lie!” I spat the words.

  Halfdan shushed me as he closed the distance between him and Beirk.

  “My wife is with child. You know this?”

  Beirk shook his head. “It is not mine.”

  “No. She carries my child. You came to my house in the night and took my wife in my bed without her consent to it. Is that not true?”

  “She is a whore.”

  I stepped forward and smacked him across the mouth. “Your treachery knows no bounds.”

  Halfdan lifted his chin. “I believe the lady is correct, Beirk. Your treachery knows no bounds. You came to Fønn after being cast out by some other town. I would lay coin on it. You took a woman twice your age to wife. But that was not enough, so you came here and took my wife as well.”

  Without another word, he drove his fist into Beirk’s belly. The man doubled over, and Halfdan raised his knee into his face. Blood spurted from his nose.

  He cursed and came at Halfdan. It was the last mistake he made before my husband grabbed him by the tunic and threw him to the ground.

  29

  “Halfdan! No! You must stop!”

  My words fell on deaf ears as my husband slammed his fist into Beirk’s face, each blow that landed accompanied by a word he ground out in fury.

  “She. Is. My. Wife! No man touches her!”

  “Halfdan, please, you must stop this!” I pulled on his arm, but may as well tried to stop a river from flowing.

  He continued to pound the other man and continued to growl words Beirk could no longer understand. He lay limp in Halfdan’s grasp, unable to protect himself from the retribution heaped upon his head.

  I knew Frida and Bjorn yet huddled together in the far corner of the room to stare at the destructive force Halfdan had become. Both were far too smart to get in the way.