In Thrall to the Viking

by M. E. Sháen

  “Bjorn, get Eowils! Now!”

  I heard the door slam a moment later.

  “Halfdan. Halfdan, please. He is unconscious. Can you not see?”

  For a moment, he stopped beating Beirk and shook him instead. The man groaned and spit blood. His eyes rolled open within the black bruising that had already swollen his face.

  “He yet lives, the bastard.”

  And with that, he grasped Beirk by the front of the tunic and slammed his head into the dirt once, twice, another time.

  I tried to wade into the fight again to capture his hand and only just ducked an errant punch.

  “Halfdan!”

  I think he would have beaten Beirk to death if Eowils hasn’t arrived. He took one look at Halfdan and grabbed him around the waist. In his rage, Halfdan attacked Eowils, who responded by throwing his brother halfway across the room.

  He landed in a heap and was up instantly. “Why did you do that?”

  Eowils panted out, “You have done enough. Elen sent me to stop you.”

  He scowled at us for a moment, the insanity still sparking the grey of his eyes into stormy clouds. It cleared far more slowly than I would like. He looked at his bloody fists and wiped them on his trousers before aiming a kick at the mess of a man who lay on the floor.

  Eowils took a step forward and in front of me. “Are you through?”

  I heard Halfdan grunt a curse before he flopped into a chair.

  “Get him out of my sight.”

  With a shrug, Eowils hefted Beirk and carried him out the door. It left me to stare at Halfdan.

  “You think I was wrong?” He challenged me.

  I shook my head. “He got what he deserved for what he did.”

  He nodded his satisfaction. “A drink.”

  I heard Orlaith hurry to do as he bid. Eowils came back and took me by the arm with far more care than I would have given the man credit for offering a woman.

  “Are you alright?” He said in a low voice, his gaze stern on mine.

  “I am.”

  He turned to his brother. “What happened?”

  Halfdan spit on the floor. “He took my wife while we were at sea. Raped her.”

  Eowils glanced at me for confirmation and getting it nodded. “Very well then.”

  The set of Halfdan’s jaw relaxed, though his eyes remained icy beneath lowered brows. “Come, have a drink with me.”

  Eowils took a seat with his brother as I turned to Frida and Bjorn.

  “Go to bed now. It is over.”

  Bjorn looked from me to Halfdan and back. Frida took him by the arm with her own glance at her father. I wondered if they’d ever seen him so angry.

  They did as I bid. Only once they left did Orlaith approach me.

  “Are you alright?”

  I offered her a tired smile. “I am. It is over.”

  She nodded as her gaze drifted to my belly. “And the child?”

  “Fine.”

  “I will remain awake a while yet, should you need me.”

  “Eowils is here. I will be fine, Orlaith. Get your rest.”

  I knew she didn’t want to leave me with them. I knew she feared Halfdan would turn his fury upon me. But she drifted toward her pallet near the back wall.

  “Nerys Elen.”

  I turned to find Halfdan’s gaze on me. “Yes?”

  “Sit with me.”

  I took a seat by his side. He pushed his cup to me.

  “Drink.”

  Eowils blinked. “Halfdan.”

  “She is my wife, brother. She can drink from my cup, can she not?”

  “Of course but,”

  “Is it your concern?” Halfdan cut across Eowils’ words.

  The bigger man snorted, but fell silent.

  “Drink, wife.”

  I lifted the cup and sipped the weak ale.

  He smiled. “There. Do you see? It is not such a bad thing.”

  Whether he meant the words for me or Eowils, I did not know. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

  “The child is well?”

  “Yes, Halfdan.”

  He nodded and pushed the cup to me once more. “Drink.”

  “I am not thirsty.”

  He tipped the cup over so that the liquid ran from the table to splatter the fresh straw.

  “I will get you more.”

  He pushed me down when I would rise. “Why will you not drink from my cup, wife?”

  I turned on him, my anger rising before I could stop it. “Do you think to accuse me of leading Beirk to do what he did?”

  “Did you?”

  He said it lightly, as if it were a joke, but his eyes held no mirth, only the swirl of stormy fury.

  I felt Eowils shift his weight forward and realized he meant to stop Halfdan if I became the next target.

  “How can you accuse me, Halfdan Hringrson? I did nothing to bring him to me.”

  “Mayhap you grew lonely in my absence.”

  The danger in him was real. He would judge me by what I said, and I knew my anger would lead him to think the worst. Yet, I could not stop myself.

  I spit on him as I jerked to my feet. “You will apologize for your false words.” I leaned forward and smacked him across the face.

  His head went back as if he’d not expected it. He grabbed me when I tried to back away, even as Eowils came to his feet across from us.

  “Halfdan.”

  He spared not one glance at his brother but yanked me off my feet and onto his lap, where he held my hands in one of his.

  “If you are true, prove it.”

  “I am your wife. How dare you think to question me? Do you believe you were not enough to keep me in your bed? Is that it? You see, I carry your child. I grow huge with your seed and you dare to ask me if I brought some other man’s attention to myself?”

  My voice had risen until I was shouting in his face.

  He didn’t reply, only continued to look at me and hold me still. I knew Orlaith had risen and watched and Eowils was yet on his feet. Perhaps I went too far in accusing him in return. I never got the hang of not mouthing off to him.

  His lips compressed, then his brows went up. I saw the anger drain from him the moment before he caught my mouth with his own. I expected a hard kiss full of emotion, but it was need I tasted on his tongue and felt beneath me as the kiss deepened.

  He let go of my hands to slip his around me once more. One traveled up my back and beneath the hank of my braid to hold me until my breath all but stopped.

  He rose with me in his arms then. “Goodnight, Eowils.”

  He settled me on our bed and, without another glance at the others, joined me, his tunic already on its way to the floor.

  30

  Busy with the harvest, the episode with Beirk became a memory that dwindled with each day. Though he spoke no more of it, I knew Halfdan took measures to ensure the safety of his house. I saw the knives he gave the thralls. I noted the new lock at the door.

  We worked most days from before the sun rose until shadows filled the yard to get the rye in before snow fell. Evenings, we listened to Halfdan tell wildly exaggerated tales of raids.

  The children laughed at or questioned the truth of each one and learned a bit more about life. I kept my hands ever busy with repairs to heavy winter clothing we needed more and more.

  The day the first light snow drifted from the grey sky, Thorsson came to the door. Halfdan was already in the barn with Bjorn and the thralls. They worked to bale the rye while Frida, Orlaith, and I went about making ale.

  It was Frida who let Thorsson into the house.

  “Nerys Elen, where is Halfdan?”

  “He is working in the barn, jarl Thorsson. What is it you need?”

  Though his mouth smiled, his eyes were as cold and dead as the belly of a fish.

  “What knowledge do you have of the attack on Beirk?”

  “Beirk?” The laughter died behind my lips. This was no joke. “You know he did not raid with
the others?”

  Thorsson’s brow furrowed. “I am aware he remained in Fønn when others took to the seas without their jarl’s approval.”

  So this was to be Halfdan’s punishment for disobedience. I inclined my head toward the door.

  “You can find him in the barn, jarl Thorsson.”

  As if we women were beneath further attention, he left the house in stony silence.

  “Elen.”

  I shushed Orlaith. “Continue with the ale. I will return.”

  “Stay out of it. This business is with the men.”

  “I must witness.”

  To that, Orlaith said nothing.

  I followed Thorsson’s path to the barn, where he already spoke to Halfdan.

  “By your hand?”

  “Did he forget to mention the rape of my wife in his retelling?”

  “Beirk called for the right of holmgang. I agreed to this.”

  Halfdan spit. His features closed upon themselves, eyes narrowed, mouth tight.

  “Very well.”

  “You have a grievance against him?”

  By the tone of voice, I knew Thorsson enjoyed this. He wanted to see Halfdan taken down and intended to use Beirk to do the dirty work for him.

  “He raped my wife.”

  “You left her unprotected? While you were away without my permission.”

  For a moment, he was silent as he appraised the jarl.

  “You share in the wealth of that raid, jarl Thorsson. I brought you far more riches than all the raids together upon our neighbors to the east.”

  “Rightly. It is mine to have. Do not forget that, Hringrson. Do you accept this holmgang?”

  “I do.”

  “Tomorrow then.”

  He nodded. “Tomorrow.”

  Thorsson turned and saw that I stood just outside the barn door. His upper lip rose as he brushed past me.

  “Halfdan?”

  “Go inside, Elen. We will discuss this later. I’ve work to finish.”

  Dismissed, I could only return to the house and take up my chores.

  I woke before dawn to find Halfdan watched me sleep. With a smile, he drew me close to kiss.

  “You must fight Beirk?”

  “Yes.”

  “What will happen?”

  “Thorsson did not say if we are to fight to the death. I suppose we must.”

  He stretched and nibbled beneath my ear.

  “He wants to see you gone.”

  “Mm. True. I have been thinking, Elen. You had land? Your family-owned land?”

  “Yes. My father held much land that was stolen.”

  “Would you have it back one day?”

  I slid my arms around his shoulders and pressed my forehead to his. “You are the man to retake it. My sister’s husbands are all Saxons. They were not given our homeland. You could take it back, Halfdan.”

  “Is it what you wish?”

  “I am happiest wherever you are, husband. If you hope to remain in Fønn, it would please me. If you would have the lands of my people, I will help you take them back.”

  “You are a good woman, vixen. I knew it of you the moment I first laid eyes on you. And, you are a good wife. Tell me, what ought I do first? One day, Thorsson will be too old to remain jarl. I could defeat him.”

  “If you were jarl, you would have the men to retake my home.”

  “I ought to do both, then? Is that what you say?”

  I came to rest atop him. “Yes. Merge power under your command. You could then lead your men to new lands, far more land than is available to them here. They would accept land in payment for their services to you, Halfdan. Do not all men want land of their own?”

  “I like the way you think, vixen. Yes. Men want land of their own.”

  He kissed me and then rose. “You will insist upon watching this?”

  “Of course.”

  He snorted. “Very well.”

  The holmgang was entertainment to the villagers. We arrived to find that the town center was already crowded.

  There were many cheers for Halfdan, which he acknowledged with a distracted wave. Eowils and Erick were there already. Eowils had stout axes and a new shield with him.

  I made my way to the porch of the longhouse. I hoped to be out of the way of the crowd. Jarl Thorsson approached me as I stood waiting for the fight to begin.

  “Your husband made an accusation against Beirk.”

  “It is no idle accusation, jarl. Beirk took while Halfdan was away.”

  “Had he remained, the man would not have done so.”

  I turned to look up at him. “No? And Halfdan is never away from the house then? I suppose Beirk was too fearful to try it if Halfdan were not a sea away. He is a coward and a fool. And now, he will be a dead fool.”

  Thorsson’s smile narrowed beneath his mustache. “Tell me, Nerys Elen, does Halfdan believe he will win?”

  I shrugged. “He said nothing like it. I believe it, however. Halfdan is twice the man Beirk has ever been.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “The gods will decide which man’s story has more truth to it.”

  I thought, hoped, he would leave me, but he remained by my side.

  Beirk appeared at the edge of the crowd and was let through. I heard much good-natured laughing and some jeering. He was not as well-liked as Halfdan. Then again, he was an outsider and something of a layabout. He was not what the Danes would believe a good and honorable man should be.

  Halfdan’s gaze flicked to mine before he turned to face his opponent. Beirk looked drawn and nervous. He stood with his wife and two other men on the far side of the muddy, near-frozen ground. Halfdan gave him a nod, then turned his attention to jarl Thorsson.

  “These men are here for holmgang. Beirk Sigurdsson brought to me a complaint against Halfdan Hringrson. His claim is that Halfdan beat him with no cause.”

  A general murmur greeted this. Thorsson raised his hands for quiet.

  “Halfdan countered with a claim of his own. He tells the story of how Beirk came to his house and had his way with his woman.”

  The jeering rose along with more babble as first one told another. We were all there, we could hear it.

  Yet the villagers took delight in repeating it to one another. Halfdan’s expression never changed as he waited the interruption out.

  Thorsson lifted his hands again and quiet fell.

  “As Beirk brought the challenge, he may choose the weapons.”

  Even from where I stood, I saw his Adam’s apple bob when he tried to swallow. He was scared, and rightly so.

  “Swords!” He proclaimed after a pause in which he must have been figuring his odds.

  Halfdan said nothing, only held his hand out for his sword.

  “And shields.”

  The brothers grinned at each other as Eowils handed off a shield.

  “Lawspeaker! What say you to this holmgang? Is this first blood or death?”

  The law speaker, a careful man I’d seen many times, took a long moment to walk around both men. He gave a nod as he passed Halfdan.

  “As both men make a claim against the other, the gods would see death as the outcome. For, if Beirk’s claim is true, then Halfdan has no honor among the gods. If Halfdan’s claim is true, then the gods seek retribution in blood for the insult at Beirk’s hand.”

  “More like at his dick,” someone in the crowd said.

  There was much laughter at that, though not from either man who waited to begin the fight. They both maintained in stony silence.

  Thorsson gave the signal, and Beirk struck first. He was good with a sword, better than I expected. But Halfdan was better and far angrier.

  He parried the first attack, then caught the other man’s tunic with the end of his sword. I heard the rip and then the onlookers went wild.

  Beirk sensed the general mood was for blood. I could tell by the way he went after Halfdan again.

  This time, his sword crashed against the shield in my hu
sband’s hand. The crack rebounded off the buildings, and the wood split in two. He discarded the useless shield just as Beirk made another attack.

  Halfdan met him. I heard when the swords came in contact with one another, heard the whine as the blades sang out in protest, one against the other. And heard, in the deadly silence that followed, the gasp of a man.

  I could not see which one took the injury and I could see neither sword between them. Then one clattered to the half-frozen mud. Halfdan took a step back.

  For a moment, Beirk jerked into motion, almost followed Halfdan’s step. Then, he fell to his knees and I saw the blood dripping from the tips of his fingers, where they were clasped against his belly.

  Halfdan stood where he was until Beirk toppled to his face. He dropped his sword and strode to the porch to glare up at Thorsson.

  “The gods have shown us who is a coward and a thief. This man was never a part of us. He is dead for the dishonor he heaped upon me and my family.”

  Thorsson raised his hands to quell the commotion.

  “Halfdan Hringrson has defeated Beirk Sigurdsson in the holmgang! Let it be known that the gods found Halfdan worthy this day. His victory is a victory for Fønn!” The law speaker yelled above the babble of the village.

  I heard Thorsson grunt a laugh. To his credit, he said nothing further on the subject. Had this been a ploy to destroy Halfdan in the eyes of the town? If so, the failure only left him looking stronger in the eyes of those around us.

  I made my way to where Halfdan was with Eowils and Erick.

  It was only when I was close did I see the line of blood that trailed along his collarbone and into his tunic.

  He gave me a smirk. “I will live yet another day, vixen.”

  “And the wound?”

  He shrugged and placed one arm over my shoulders. “Nothing. There is much we must discuss. Will you allow me to take you home now or should we remain a while?”

  “I would see what Thorsson does in the mead hall.”

  The brothers exchanged a glance.

  “It is a good idea,” Eowils agreed.

  31

  I found myself once more seated among these men. Where once I wished harm and death upon them all, now I felt protective of them. I felt a part of them.