Norse Hearts

by Robynn Gabel

  20

  A Broken Vow

  “Never swear false oaths; great and grim is the reward for the breaking of troth.”

  Einar turned from Seraphina, attacking the man who came up on his right. Holding the sword, she scrambled back against the rigging ropes on the portside and waited. She watched the giant Ragnvald swing his axe. It chopped into the throat of one of Einar’s men, the blood spraying over the deck. Seraphina felt her stomach lurch. Stepping back, the blonde giant glanced around the ship; then, much to her surprise, he dove off the starboard side. She heard a few more splashes, and suddenly, the fight was over.

  Einar shouted at his men to pull in the anchor. Seraphina dropped the sword and moved to the gunwale. She could see another warship drifting away, the men on the deck just shadows scurrying by the light of oil lamps. Squeaking pulleys signaled that they were raising the sails. Einar bellowed again behind her, and several men grabbed the sculls. She felt the ship under her begin to swing. He moved into the bow; his wrathful eyes and fury-filled grimace made her flee as far away to the portside as she could get.

  His attention focused on the ship pulling away from them. Like a madman, he roared orders again. It was evident, even to Seraphina, that the other ship had the lead on them and would quickly be gone. Einar’s fist crashed down on the gunwale, and he turned away. Seraphina chewed on a nail, watching his fury. A few men lay groaning where they had fallen. Einar knelt beside one, his arm scooping under the dying man’s shoulders. Looking into the dimming eyes, he spoke forcefully.

  “This day you feast in the hall of Valhalla and drink with Thor and Odin! The Valkyrie come for you!”

  The man’s eyes widened, and the word “Odin” gargled forth. Then his body went slack, and Einar gently laid him down, pulling the man’s eyelids over his sightless eyes. Watching the man die, and Einar’s compassion toward him, brought the threat of tears to Seraphina’s eyes.

  Dagfinn moved up beside Einar, holding out his hand. Grasping it, Einar rose to his feet. He looked over at Seraphina and said harshly, “Bind her.”

  Even though it was the early hours of the morning, the smoky hall was filled with murmurs while everyone waited for Jarl Roald. Seraphina knelt, her hands throbbing from the tight bonds. The grip of Einar’s hand on the nape of her neck forced her to stare at the floor. Fear,dread and the desire to flee uppermost in her mind. A shuffling of feet and the sudden silence gave her notice that the jarl had entered.

  “Let her stand that I can speak to her,” Roald said quietly.

  The tight grip loosened enough to slip down her arm, and with a rough jerk, Einar pulled her to her feet. Her gaze locked with the jarl’s narrowed eyes. A gnarled, scarred finger tapped at his chin. Einar moved away.

  “Tell me, little warrior, why would you desire to leave us?” Sarcasm lay heavy in his tone.

  She stood silently, the table between them.

  He ordered, “Loosen her bindings.”

  Dagfinn stepped up to untie the leather. She glanced around the hall crowded with faces full of curiosity, expectation, and a few scowls. Bengtha sat stiffly next to Roald, avoiding Seraphin’s gaze. Gunnar lounged to the right of the jarl, sporting a slight smile, pleased by something. Einar stood over in a corner; his fist clenched on the hilt of his sax.

  Roald’s voice was now deceptively soft as he asked, “Have we not treated you well? Have you had to toil unduly? We have fed you, protected you, and brought you into our homes. Why would you insult us by seeking passage with our enemies?”

  Mutterings and restless shuffles filled the silence. Seraphina felt a sense of dread coiling tightly in her stomach. Her heart fluttered, too tired to pound any more. Drawing in a deep breath, she replied, “I did not seek out the enemy, as I do not know who you battle. I simply was trying to purchase my passage home since you have refused my entreaties to be taken there.”

  Roald’s face became granite hard. “Seraphina! Why did you pick that ship? How did you know the name of it?”

  Staring down at the floor, her thoughts tumbled, trying to find a way out. How does he know I asked for any particular ship??

  She heard Roald murmur something as she tried desperately to figure out an answer.

  “Do you recognize this man?”

  Roald waved to one of his men, and she watched the ferryman shuffle forward. His woolen cap was squashed in one hand, his hair a wild nest of salt-and-pepper colored strands.“You spoke with this woman tonight?”

  He nodded. Seraphina sucked in her bottom lip.

  “Tell us what was said.”

  “She asked for passage, very nicely. She did not want to part with a certain gift, but paid me with it. When I asked her the name of the ship, she told me the Black Feather. I took her there, and she asked to board. I came back.”

  Seraphina’s heart began pounding again. He had not mentioned she had asked for Ragnvald by name.

  Roald’s granite gaze settled on her for a moment, and then he waved his hand in dismissal. The ferryman cast a quick glance her way, his gentle eyes full of concern, and then stepped back into the crowd.

  “I am asking for the last time, Seraphina. Who gave you the name of the ship?”

  A muscle twitched in the column of Bengtha’s neck. Gunnar’s smile disappeared, and he shifted in his seat.

  “I do not remember. I heard it in passing.” Sweat trickled down her back, and she rubbed at the red marks on her wrists.

  “You lie!” Einar’s voice thundered, several people jumping at the sound, including Seraphina. He strode forward, power emanating in each thudding step, stopping to stand in front of her. Eyes a blazing sapphire blue, lips pulled back over his teeth in a grimace, he stared at her. He leaned toward her, his voice lowered to a terrible growl.

  “You lie, Seraphina, just as you lied when you gave me your vow. Remember? I told you how I valued that promise and who would suffer if you broke it. How Mara would take your punishment if you disobeyed? Bring Mara here, Elsjorn.”

  Her throat constricted, and she felt faint. Her voice came out in a gasp.

  “Nay, Einar, nay! Take me; punish me. She had nothing to do with this, I swear. It was me who broke my promise, not her. Please.” She reached for his arm, but he brusquely shoved her hand away.

  A s Elsjorn pulled Mara forward, she tried hanging back. He pushed the thrall to her knees beside Einar, facing Seraphina. Desperate, Mara’s wild eyes looked at Einar and then to Seraphina.

  Deep creases carved down Einar’s cheeks, his pressed lips white. Seraphina sent a pleading look to Bengtha, but she raised her chin and glared.

  “Watch what happens, Seraphina, when one breaks a promise,” Einar snarled.

  “Nay!” Seraphina shouted. Her words, bottled so long, rushed out. “Did you not break your promise to me? I have a sister who may need me. I do not know if my father truly lives or is dead. My whole life has been torn apart. You gave me hope that I would be going back. I could not wait any longer. Your war is none of my concern. I did not know this would put anyone in danger besides myself. I am sorry. So sorry. . . .” Her voice broke on a sob, and Seraphina hung her head.

  His hands gripped her upper arms, giving her a shake. Einar spit out, “Putting off a promise is not the same as breaking it. I was right! You Angles do not understand honor or loyalty. But you will learn now!”

  Letting go, he took a leather strap from his belt, nodding to Elsjorn. The one-eyed warrior stepped forward and ripped the back of the thrall’s tunic in two, baring a portion of her back. She leaned over, face in her hands, a low moan rising from her. Seraphina had got a quick glimpse of raised scars before she threw herself at Einar’s feet.

  “I beg of you. Please.” She felt Dagfinn pull her up as Einar stepped away, glaring at her.

  Dagfinn’s voice gritted out in her ear, “Stop, it will not move him. Learn from this.”

  Einar shook out the strap and began the swing. Seraphina wrenched away from Dagfinn and darted forward, throwing herself over M
ara as it descended. The force of the blow took her breath in a gasp. Fire raced across her shoulder to her hip, but she wrapped herself around Mara, holding on tight.

  Another voice cracked through the hall, “Gnógr!” Jarl Roald stood.

  Getting to her feet with Dagfinn’s help, she stood, shaking, glancing up at Einar. His eyebrows were drawn together, face stiff, and his color drained. The pain in his eyes clawed at her heart. He stepped back, throwing the leather strap down.

  “Ljúfa,” Einar called out hoarsely.

  Seraphina heard a shuffling behind her. The flaxen-haired girl came up with a woolen blanket in her arms and put it tenderly around Mara’s shoulders. Ljúfa’s eyes were red, and tears made shining little paths down her face. Seraphina could still see fear in Mara’s eyes as well. They walked back to a bench, neither one looking her way.

  “Seraphina.” Roald said. “You were a freewoman when you left and as such will be judged by our laws. When one of us breaks trust, we all suffer. Your actions tonight put all of us in danger. Our penalty for disloyalty is severe. Normally, we would brand you an outlaw and send you away. In this case, I call for three days of exposure. What do you, those assembled, say?”

  Somberly, one by one, Seraphina watched people who had spent time with her, those who had opened their homes and hearts, step up and say, “Já.”

  Bengtha, with a cold stare, said, “Já,” and Gunnar followed.

  Silence fell, all eyes on Einar. He faced his jarl. “Ekki,” he said.

  Seraphina could see no flicker of emotion in Roald’s face, just a tiny narrowing of his eyes. “The assembly has spoken, and the vote is for exposure. Prepare her.”

  Mara, Ljúfa, and several other women came forward. One carried the plain shift of a slave; another, several blankets. Dagfinn leaned in, whispering, “It will be over soon.” A ghost of his old smile gave her little hope as he moved away.

  Einar stared at her, his eyes soulless blue depths. He pulled out his sword, grasped her shoulder, and turned her around. She gasped as the cold steel slipped down her back, rendering her underdress in two. The women surrounded her, a couple holding up blankets to block prying eyes, and pulled off what was left of her dress. Ljúfa managed a small smile before she pulled the plain woolen shift over Seraphina’s head.

  Seraphina reached out, her fingers tracing down Mara’s face. “I am so sorry, Mara. I did not think. I was selfish and forgot my promise.”

  Tears shimmered in Mara’s eyes, and she said, “My ladye, it has been my life to serve, but no one has ever taken a lash for me. I forgive you.”

  Seraphina’s throat tightened, and all she could do was nod.

  The woman moved aside, and two of Roald’s men took her by the arm and led her outside. The sky in the east was a light blue, the sun not yet breaking over the horizon. In the predawn light, the quiet crowd followed. The cold made her shiver, but Seraphina’s mind was numb, her body beyond exhaustion. Her feet felt like lead, and the stripe across her back was on fire.

  It was a long climb up a small hill and then on to a lake’s edge beyond the village. In a little depression filled with grass and wildflowers, a pole stood next to a huge gray boulder. The pole was covered in carved scrolls while the boulder had stiff slashes of runes painted white that stood out on the grainy surface of the rock. The two men bound her wrists together and tied them to an iron ring attached to the pole.

  Seraphina listened as Roald’s voice rumbled out, even the birds quieting at the sound.

  “Odin, All-Father, keeper of wisdom, we greet you this morning.”

  From the back of the crowd, Elsjorn and Dagfinn dragged forward a captive from the night’s battle. He was bruised and bleeding, stripped down to only a square of cloth on his hips. His hands were bound so tightly behind Seraphina could see they were almost blue. Pushing him to his knees, they held his arms, waiting.

  Roald pulled the prisoner’s head back and spat in his face. Seraphina’s stomach roiled, and she sensed what was coming. Roald raised his hands again to the rays brightening the sky and spoke.

  “We praise you for victory, Odin, and ask that you offer up more enemies for our axes. Greet our brothers who died last evening, defending home and hearth, in your great hall of Valhalla. May we all be honored to die in battle, to once again join our brothers in songs of glorious deeds. We offer the blood of the vanquished.”

  Roald made a quick swipe, and a skald moved forward to catch the gush of blood. The man jerked and suddenly went still. As all the men and boys passed by the bowl, they dipped two fingers in, smearing the blood across cheeks, foreheads, chests, or arms.

  Seraphina turned her head against her raised arms, feeling faint. Her legs were suddenly weak, and she had just enough slack in the leather to kneel.

  Roald declared, “Forseti, god of justice for all, god of the calm of peace and truth. We leave this woman for your judgment. If she dies, the scale is righted for the act of disloyalty. If she lives, we accept her innocence and welcome her back. Odin, in your mighty wisdom, guide her on this journey.”

  In the silence, she glanced back at the crowd, wondering what they were looking at. Suddenly, a raven beat its black wings above her. He landed, cocking his head, and she could see his yellow eye watching her. In a loud, raucous call, he spread his wings and soared over the lake.

  On the other side of the rock, she noticed Einar, his back to her, watching the bird’s flight. Addressing the crowd, Roald spoke one more time.

  “No one is to feed, defend, or cover this woman until dawn three days hence. Then we will see what the gods have decided. You may take your leave of her now.”

  She felt tears building as it dawned on her what abandonment would mean. Dagfinn placed his hand on her head, leaned in, and whispered, “I will pray for you, Ladye.” Then he was gone.

  Ljúfa pulled off an amulet from around her neck. Looking into Seraphina’s tear-filled eyes, she said, “This is Thor’s hammer, Mjölnir. It was my father’s, but I know it will protect you now.” She slid it over Seraphina’s head. Leaning in closer, she whispered, “Chin up; your shame is his shame.” Then she hurried away.

  She struggled to understand Ljúfa’s words as the crowd thinned and nearly all left. Then, Roald’s sudden clap on Einar’s shoulder startled her. “Will you return with me, my son?”

  Einar shook his head, a big sigh leaving him. “I have made my choice. I ask only that you understand.”

  She could see a few large rocks down from the boulder. Einar settled in on the largest one, his back to her, gazing over the lake, as if made of stone himself.

  21

  Proposals

  “Good to love good things when all goes according to thy heart’s desire.”

  Seraphina welcomed the heat of the day, but it worsened the thirst, her tongue dry and sticking to the roof of her mouth. Time moved agonizingly slow. That night, she was blessed with snatches of sleep in between her prayers.

  On the second night, cold rain soaked her, causing tremors to wrack her body so hard that every muscle tightened in spasms of pain. She floated above it at times, reliving her life through the eyes of an observer. Had she been kind? At times, it seemed she was selfish, willful, and arrogant. She prayed for forgiveness and that she would live so she could make amends to all she loved.

  The third day, hunger clawed so hard that it felt like her stomach was being ripped from her. That night, her arms went numb as she leaned against the pole, seeking sleep. Sound became magnified in the blackness. She raised her head when a snuffling broke the silence. Opening her crusted eyes, she saw two pointed ears sitting above intelligent eyes and a black nose at the end of a long snout. A wolf. No longer able to muster even a scream, she stared back. It sniffed at her, sat down, and cocked its head, considering her.

  In the chalky cast of moonlight, a shadow rose to her left. Gripping the hilt of the sword that was tip down in the dirt at his feet, he wavered. In the silence of the last three days, he had given her streng
th through his presence, but even now, she knew he could not defend her. Drifting in the dark depths of sleep, she dreamed the wolf stood and disappeared into a mist.

  A white light grew, its brilliance filling the black void. Her father emerged slowly; his arms opened wide, a warm smile gracing his lips. Feeling a wave of indescribable love, she longed to go with him. He shook his head, simply saying, Love them.

  A voice called again, but it wasn’t her father’s. The light dimmed, and her father’s image started to fade. Pulling back on the stiff leather holding her hands, she moaned through cracked lips, “Do not leave me.”

  “Seraphina, open your eyes.”

  She knew this voice, but she couldn’t find the strength to do as it commanded. Then she was floating, and she let go of all thought.

  As Skinfaxi galloped across the sky, light from his fiery mane fell upon the glade. Einar slashed at the leather on Seraphina’s wrists. He was unaware that there were people gathering behind him until Roald’s hand fell on his shoulder.

  “Let me carry her. You look like you have battled Hel and lost,” Roald said.

  Einar shook his head, scooping the moaning girl into his arms and starting off toward the longhouse. At the door, women had gathered, waiting.

  “Take her to my room,” Roald ordered.

  Einar laid her down gently on the large bed as if she was the most precious of treasures. He stepped back, the women bustling in and taking over.

  Mara gently tipped a spoon against her lips, dribbling a little water between them. Seraphina swallowed convulsively. Ljúfa’s little hands persistently shoved against Einar’s chest until he took an unsteady step backward, and then another.

  “Brother, you need food and sleep, now,” Ljúfa demanded.

  Dagfinn and Roald flanked him and pulled him back to the table in the hall.