Tara: Taken
Viking Guardians 5
Kaitlynn Clarkson
Contents
COPYRIGHT PAGE
THANK YOU
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
EPILOGUE
LOVED IT? DIDN’T LOVE IT?
GLOSSARY
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Aeveen: Healer of Ráith Mór (Sneak Peek)
CHAPTER 1
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ABOUT KAITLYNN CLARKSON
COPYRIGHT PAGE
Copyright © 2020 Kaitlynn Clarkson
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic and mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
Disclaimer
Although the places described in this story are real, it is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to any event, either historical or recent, or any person, living or deceased, is completely coincidental.
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When Halvar takes his younger sister Freja to the festival of the Disting, he expects her to be on her best behavior. After all, she’s supposed to be finding a husband.
But Freja cannot help herself. Wild and free-spirited, she is a skilled archer and a keen competitor who ignores the rules for women in her society. She finds a way to join the men-only archery competition and her talent catches the eye of a jarl, who decides he must meet her.
Freja’s mind is as sharp as her aim and she eagerly engages in the discussions surrounding the politics of the land. The jarl has never met a woman like Freja and he cannot stop thinking about her.
But with trouble looming in the form of a new king, the jarl must do his best to keep his people safe and he is forced to attend to political matters. When the crisis passes, the jarl’s thoughts turn to Freja. Is the difference in their social status too great? Can they be together? Or must the jarl bow to the will of the people and take a wife who will offer a political advantage?
This novella is set in the days of Norway’s King Haakon the Good; a time when the Vikings left their homelands to raid and plunder; when Christianity was making tentative approaches and kings fought for the right to rule.
CHAPTER 1
“Today is the day,” Aine declared. “The men will be gone tomorrow and the moon is in the right phase. Today we will collect the plants. Tomorrow, we will start the dyeing. Tara, go tell your sisters that we will go soon.”
As Tara hurried down the road to her eldest sister’s house, she found herself looking forward to the day. She enjoyed helping her mother and sisters collect the plants they would need to dye the cloth for making their clothes. It was a fun outing with her married sisters and their children; she was the only one not yet married and she missed the company of the older girls.
Soon they had gathered baskets and pouches and set off across the fields towards the Tolka River. Tara glanced back at her home village of Mullach Eadartha, nestled cozily into the landscape. It wasn’t often that they left the safety of the village, but gathering materials for dyeing cloth was one such occasion. It was true that the finngail were in the area but it was unlikely that they would come so far up the river. No one had seen any of the fair-haired foreigners for some time and the villagers felt safe enough to relax a little.
“Do you think the finngail will find us?” Caireann asked anxiously.
Tara smiled at her niece; of all the children, she bore the greatest resemblance to Tara, with red, curly hair and freckles. “No one has seen any lately,” she said. “We should stay alert but not be worried.” She put her arm around the younger girl’s shoulders. “Worry would just spoil a good day out, would it not?”
Reassured, Caireann ran ahead to play with the other children. It wasn’t often that they got away from the village and they were excited and happy. It was a good day to be alive and Tara tried to push away the lingering concerns about the finngail. These cruel foreigners were known for raiding and plundering and capturing slaves. People who were taken as slaves never returned; or at least, Tara didn’t know of anyone who had. They vanished, never to be seen again. The villagers were terrified of the finngail, with good reason. They left families bereft of loved ones, looted and pillaged crops and valuables, and had no mercy.
But today, Tara felt safe. The fields were green, the crops were growing, and the sun was shining. The happy laughter of the children filled the air and she was enjoying the company of her sisters again.
They reached the river and found a large patch of elderberries, perfect for purple dye.
“Look, Mother!” Eachna exclaimed. “Look at the trom! We will be able to make lots of dye from that!”
“You are learning well, Daughter,” Fianna smiled. “Soon you will be able to do some yourself.”
Minutes later, everyone was busy picking, filling baskets and pouches with the dark berries. The older children watched the babies and toddlers while their mothers picked and talked, their tongues moving even faster than their hands. They moved along the riverbank as they worked their way through the large patch of elderberries.
Tara found herself searching for more berries ahead of the group and was surprised when she saw a footbridge leading across the river. Someone had gone to the trouble to make a crossing to the fields on the other side. Without thinking, she jumped lightly onto the footbridge and crossed to the other side, intending to check on the quality and quantity of the berries.
But before she had a chance to do anything, strong hands grabbed her from behind and a second later, she was hoisted over the shoulder of a large man. She screamed and struggled, almost faint with horror as she realized that it was the finngail. He slapped her, hard, and she screamed again as he ran along the riverbank with her. He took her around the bend, scampered nimbly down the bank, and dumped her in the bottom of a boat. She screamed again and tried to get up, but he pushed her down and tied her hands behind her back and her feet together, cruel laughter mocking her cries. Then he wrapped a cloth around her mouth and forced her to lie in the bottom of the boat.
Several other men appeared and soon the boat was moving swiftly downstream, towards the finngail settlement of Dubh Linn. Hot tears poured down Tara’s cheeks but it was useless; she was unable to move or speak and her captors were certainly in no mood for mercy. She wondered what would become of her. Would they kill her?
“Oh God, have mercy,�
� she prayed as best she could around the cloth in her mouth. “Save me, please God, I beg of You. Mary, have mercy! Return me to my home, please!”
She had grown up going to Mass in the little church in the village but it had been her grandmother who had passed on her faith. Móraí had shown her what it meant to serve the God of heaven; she seemed to have a personal friendship with Him. Although Tara couldn’t claim to have His ear the way Móraí had, she firmly believed that He could be entreated for help in times of need. He was her only hope now.
“Here, have this.” A large man with a red beard tossed Tara a blanket and motioned for her to lie down at the end of the longhouse with several other women, all of whom had been kidnapped that day.
Tara was surprised to hear him speak in her language; she had only heard her captors speaking in a foreign tongue. She took the blanket, grateful to wrap herself in its warmth. The men had so far treated them well, giving them food and water and allowing them to use the outhouse. Two large warriors stood guard at the only entrance to the longhouse, making escape impossible, so the women were untied and left to their own devices.
“What are they going to do with us, do you know?” Tara whispered to a girl about her own age.
“I know not. But I would rather die than be subject to them.” Even in the dim light inside the longhouse, the girl looked fierce and proud.
“If we cooperate, perhaps they will treat us well,” Tara said.
“I will never cooperate with those pigs!” the girl spat.
“Shhh! Let us listen! They are speaking our language!” Tara hissed.
“We have enough,” she heard a man say.
“Then we shall leave in the morning. We are ready.”
Leave? Where were they going? Did this plan somehow involve the women? Would the men molest them during the night? Tara wished she knew the answers to those questions; she was determined to stay awake, but after the long and harrowing day, she couldn’t keep her eyes open and despite her resolve, was soon sound asleep.
“Wake up!”
Tara awoke with a start to find the large man with the red beard prodding her with his boot. She shook her head, disoriented. Then the horror of the previous day came flooding back and she covered her face with her hands, trying to stem the flow of tears that arrived in a tsunami of terror. What would happen to her today?
The girl she’d spoken to last night sat up and swore at the large man. He responded with a swift kick to her thigh. The girl screamed and stood up, ready to fight, but the man grabbed both of her hands and tied them together, muttering something in his own language.
“You will learn to obey,” he told the girl. “There will be more punishment if you do not.”
After breakfast, the finngail gathered up their belongings and left the longhouse, returning a short time later.
“We are leaving now,” Red Beard said. “You will come with us.”
He and two other men marched the women down to the water, where a much larger boat was waiting. Its sails were folded, but men were loosening the ropes in preparation for the journey. Tara was desperate to know where they were going.
“Where are we going?” she timidly asked Red Beard.
“To Norowegr,” he answered shortly.
Norowegr? Where was that? She had no idea.
“Are these women the last of the slaves?” another man asked Red Beard.
“Yes. Once they are on board, we can leave,” he replied. “The tide is right so let us waste no time.”
Slaves? They were to be slaves? Horror engulfed every fiber of Tara’s being and it was all she could do to hold in her screams. But she knew enough about the finngail to stay silent. Displays of emotion were seen as weakness by these cruel, hardened raiders. She was far likely to receive better treatment if she remained silent.
Soon they were settled in the boat and Tara realized that she would never see her beloved homeland again. She had stood on its shores for the last time. She would never again gaze at its green fields or rolling hills. Tears blinded her eyes as the boat pushed off, a stiff breeze catching the sails, traitorous in its efforts to carry her away from her homeland. She looked back as long as she could but soon the land of her birth was a speck in the distance. She put her head down in her hands, wishing she could die.
CHAPTER 2
“Heill, Erik,” Einar greeted as his friend stepped through the door of their longhouse. “How was the journey?”
“I am glad to be home,” Erik replied, rubbing tired eyes. “It was a profitable journey but there is no place like home.”
“That is true,” Einar said. “And mine will be even better with a wife in it!”
Erik smiled. “You are fortunate indeed, my friend,” he said. “Sigrid will make you a fine wife.”
“It is not long to wait now,” Einar said. “After the harvest season, I shall be a married man.”
“And I shall be alone in this longhouse,” Erik said.
“You can always take a wife.”
“One day, I shall. But I have been so busy building up my business that I have had no time to seek one.”
“What did you sell the most on this journey?”
“Fine cloth from foreign lands was popular and so were the leather goods.”
“Will you buy more?”
“I shall. I intend to go to the markets at Fram Hváll on my next journey and there I hope I shall find more foreign goods to sell. My customers appear to have an appetite for them.”
“Is not Fram Hváll the largest slave market in the land?”
“It is. But I shall not be buying slaves. They are too much trouble. Besides, I have little need for slaves when I am travelling so often. My needs are few.”
“True. Once your cart is packed with your goods, you are self-sufficient. Do you ever stay overnight at a lodging house?”
“Sometimes. But most of the time, I sleep along the road.”
“Do you fear being set upon by raiders or bandits?”
“Not really. They are more interested in young women to sell as slaves than me. I am careful, of course. I try to travel through isolated areas in the company of other travelers. I am not careless.”
“That is good to know. I am always pleased to see you arrive safely home after you have been on your travels.”
“I enjoy seeing people and places away from home. I would become bored if I were a farmer.”
“There is nothing better than growing food and working the land,” Einar asserted.
Erik grinned. “This is an argument that neither of us will ever win,” he said. “I am hungry. Where is the food?”
As they ate, Erik told Einar more about his travels. “There is a sense of prosperity in our land of Norowegr since King Haakon became the ruler,” Erik said. “Do you remember the days before he became King?”
“I do. There were unrest and distrust between rival jarls and chieftains,” Einar said. “King Haakon has worked hard to unite the land and now there is peace.”
“It is good for business,” Einar said. “With peace comes prosperity.”
“The traders bringing treasure from other lands are helping with the prosperity part of it,” Erik replied. “Every market I go to has precious goods from other lands for sale.”
“Do the traders buy it or is it taken from the people of the other lands?”
“I know not. I suspect it is both. But it matters not to me; it is making our land wealthy!”
Einar chuckled. “The weak do not deserve to have it if they cannot defend it,” he said.
“Something like that,” Erik agreed. “The vikingr will get it by any means they can. They have been bringing many slaves back as well.”
“There is always a market for women,” Einar said. “Someone always wants more wives or concubines. I am glad I did not have to purchase a slave or a concubine to be my wife. It is costly and they do not have the same rights as a freeborn wife.”
“The price of a bed-slave has increased in re
cent years,” Erik replied. “It is more than some men can afford.”
“Better to have a wife who wants to share your bed of her own free will,” Einar said. “That costs nothing!”
“May I be as fortunate as you are,” Erik told him. “I also wish to have a freeborn wife. I intend to grow my trading business bigger so that I can comfortably support a wife and family and I want my wife to have opportunities also if she wishes.”
“At least when you are a farmer, you can grow enough food to feed everyone,” Einar said.
Erik rolled his eyes. “I am not taking that bait,” he said. “You can have your farming. I will be happy to stay a merchant and if we are honest, this land needs both of us.”
“You are right,” conceded Einar. “The land needs merchants and farmers. We each have a part to play.”
“How are Halvar and Eira?” asked Erik. “Has Eira had her baby yet?”
“She has not,” Einar replied. “She is waddling around like a duck.”
Erik laughed. “I can imagine,” he said. “Halvar will be a proud father.”
“He will be unbearable at first, I would imagine. We shall want to avoid him!”
“He will get over it. It always happens with a first child, especially if they have a son.”
“If you like to travel so much, why did you not go trading in other lands?” Einar asked, changing the subject.
“In the future, I might,” Erik answered. “I decided I would learn to be a good merchant here in this land first. Travel to foreign lands is costly and dangerous and I would want to be certain it was worthwhile before I set out.”
“Of course. I would do the same thing,” Einar replied.
Erik yawned and stretched. “I am weary,” he said. “I think I will retire to my bed. In the morning, I shall go to see Torsten and Frida. I was here for such a short visit last time that I did not get to see them.”
“Erik!” Torsten exclaimed. “What brings you to my farm?” He dropped the hoe he was using and hurried over to greet Erik. The two had grown up together in Myrkvior Fjall and were like brothers.
Tara: Taken (Viking Guardians Book 5) Page 1