Tara: Taken (Viking Guardians Book 5)

by Kaitlynn Clarkson

  CHAPTER 12

  Erik looked at his sleeping wife with pleasure. She was even more beautiful than when he’d first laid eyes on her. She’d put on a little weight and it suited her. She no longer looked as if she hadn’t had enough to eat and her eyes had lost some of their haunted look. She was doing her best to thrive in her new environment.

  But there were times that Erik was concerned. Sometimes, she would go quiet and get a faraway look in her eyes and he wondered if she was pining for her homeland. She never said much about it but he was sure she wished she could see her family again.

  And another matter troubled him. They had married soon after his final journey for the season, just before the long winter months. It had been a simple ceremony attended only by their friends from both villages. But not once, not on their wedding day, or any day since, had Tara told him she loved him.

  She was affectionate and their love-making was passionate. She frequently snuggled up to him and told him how wonderful he was and how glad she was that he had rescued her from slavery. But never did she reveal her true feelings and Erik began to wonder if she had married him out of obligation, after all. It troubled him so much that he decided to talk to Inger about it. He had come to value the kindly older woman’s wisdom. He slipped out of bed, leaving Tara still sleeping. It was early; Inger would be up by now, preparing the morning meal.

  “Good morning,” she greeted him. “You are awake early.”

  “I have something I want to ask you,” he told her, bending to stroke Kappi as the fluffy cat brushed against his legs.

  “Ask away. I am listening,” she said as she put more wood on the fire to cook the breakfast.

  “I am worried about Tara,” he said.

  “Is she unwell?”

  “No, she is very well.”

  “Is she with child?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Well, what troubles you?”

  “It is a matter of the heart,” he said. “I know not if she truly loves me or if she married me out of obligation.”

  “Can you not see that she loves you?”

  “She acts as if she does, but she has never said so.”

  “Do words matter that much? Surely actions speak louder.”

  “That is what I thought also,” he said. “But I realized that they both matter. One without the other is an incomplete picture.”

  “I know not the answer to your problem,” Inger said. “Most men would not query the matter. As long as a wife is fulfilling her duties, they are satisfied.”

  Erik shook his head. “It is not enough for me,” he said. “I need to know if she chose me because she loves me, or if she married me out of obligation, or because she had no other options. The answer matters to me.”

  “Have you tried asking her?”

  “No. I do not wish to place words in her mouth or for her to believe that I am unhappy with things the way they are. I am happy … I just wish I knew her feelings.”

  “The answer will come,” Inger said wisely. “You must be patient and observant but I am sure if you are, you will know.”

  Erik sighed. “You are probably right,” he said. “I just wish it weren’t so complicated.”

  “From Dubh Linn, you say?” Erik fingered the fine cloth with its elaborate needlework. It reminded him of the work that Tara did. Perhaps that was not surprising since she was from near Dubh Linn herself.

  The trader nodded. “There is plenty more where that came from,” he said. “The women of Dubh Linn are talented needleworkers.”

  “What is Dubh Linn like?” asked Erik.

  The trader paused. “It is a land of great opportunities,” he said at last. “Dubh Linn is a thriving city of trade. Many merchants are there and many have gained great wealth because of the opportunities to trade with sailors and merchants from other parts of the world.”

  Erik looked interested. “Why are you not there yourself?” he asked.

  The trader shrugged. “I prefer to travel the seas and visit foreign lands than build up a land-based business,” he said. “It is the life I enjoy. But there is room for both.”

  Erik thought about what had happened over the past few months. He had spent the winter at home with Tara, making repairs to the wagon, organizing his stock, and creating small household items to sell. But now, on his first journey in the spring, he’d found that two other traders were taking his route and he’d sold far less than he’d expected. It had been an unsettling setback. Was this the way of the future? Would he always be competing with other merchants and never able to make a good living the way he had in the past? He’d thought that it would be a secure occupation that he would be able to do for a long time but this turn of events made him feel uneasy. Perhaps he could deal directly with the farmers and artisans and sell their goods to other traders. Maybe that would be a better way to earn a living.

  But along with thoughts of his future came the nagging concerns over his marriage to Tara. She’d kissed him passionately when he’d departed for this journey, his first trading journey since their marriage. But there had still been no hint of her true feelings for him. He felt locked out of her inner world, unable to reach her with his love.

  As he thought about it, a question began to arise in his mind. What if he could give Tara the ultimate chance to choose? What if he were to …? The thoughts wouldn’t go away. By the end of his journey, he knew what he had to do.

  “Look who’s home!” Eira exclaimed to the baby on her hip. She ran to the door as Halvar entered.

  “My family!” Halvar exclaimed, sweeping Eira and the baby into a bear hug and twirling them around. “It has been such a long journey and I have missed you both!” He took the baby from Eira, holding him close. “My son, you have grown since I left,” he murmured, caressing the downy head.

  The baby gurgled and smiled a chubby, toothless grin.

  “Has he been well?” Halvar asked anxiously.

  Eira giggled. “He has been well enough to wake me up each night for a feed,” she said. “He has an appetite like a horse!”

  “That’s my boy,” Halvar said proudly. “He will grow into a big, strong man.”

  “But tell me of your journey,” Eira said eagerly. “What happened?”

  “The men that Jerrik sent here took me straight to the Thing on his lands. There were a lot of people there.”

  “And what of Taft?”

  “When Jerrik’s men found him, he was unable to walk. So they put him in a cart for the journey and carried him to the Thing.”

  “Did you see him?”

  “I did. He is very weak and frail.”

  “What did the Thing decide?”

  “The discussion went back and forth over a couple of days. But in the end, he was declared guilty of the destruction of our village and the murder of our people. He was outlawed for three years, which means we were allowed to take justice into our own hands.”

  “And was he killed?”

  Halvar shook his head. “I went to see him during the proceedings. Remember that Kaarina wanted me to deliver a message to him if I saw him?”

  Eira nodded. “She was most adamant that you tell Taft that she has forgiven him. It was important to her.”

  “I did not wish to, but out of respect for Kaarina, I found him. And it changed the way I see him. When I gave him the message, tears came to his eyes. He is a broken shell of a man; he can only speak slowly because of the injury to his head. But he gave me a message for Kaarina.”

  “What was that?”

  “He told her he is sorry. And he told me that he is sorry for what he did to our people.”

  Eira heaved a huge sigh. “Did you accept his apology?” she asked.

  “Not at the time. I was still angry with him for the destruction he caused. But I believe he meant it.”

  “So what happened next?”

  “After the Thing pronounced him guilty, I thought about taking revenge. But in the end, I could not. The life he is
now living is punishment enough. Besides, I believe it would hurt Kaarina and I also have no desire to harm a man who is a cripple and is unable to defend himself.”

  “Does Taft know that you decided not to take revenge?”

  “I finally found him just before the Thing ended. I told him that I would not be seeking revenge and that he could live out the rest of his days in peace.”

  “You made the right decision,” Eira said. “I thought it would be satisfying to make Taft pay for what he did, but you are right. Shedding more blood will not make it better. Taft now has a hard life to live.”

  “I am glad you feel that way,” Halvar said. “It is not just me that this affects; it is Torsten and Einar and Erik and the others from our village as well.”

  “Torsten and Einar and Canute were with you, were they not?”

  “They were. And in the end, they also agreed with my decision. We are at peace with it.”

  As Halvar sat down to eat the meal she’d prepared, Eira was thoughtful. She’d always believed revenge would feel good, but in some strange way, it felt better to break the cycle of bloodshed and violence. Perhaps forgiveness was the best way of all.

  Tara awoke with a start. What had she just heard? Was Inger awake? Or Brendan? Who was moving about the longhouse?

  Suddenly, a warm body slid into bed beside her and encircled her with his arm.

  “Erik!” she exclaimed. “I did not expect you to come home at this hour!”

  “The sun was still up so I came home instead of stopping,” Erik said. “I have missed you so much, my love. I could not wait until the morning to be with you again.”

  She nestled her head into the curve of his neck. “I have missed you also,” she said. “I was not expecting you for several days yet. Tell me about your journey.”

  “Things have changed,” Erik said. “There are other traders on my route and I did not make as much money.”

  “That is worrisome,” Tara said.

  “At first, I was worried,” Erik replied. “But then I met a trader who had returned from foreign lands. He was selling the fine cloth that my customers like to buy. I bought some that came from Dubh Linn and it reminded me of the work you do, my love. It is very good.”

  He felt her sag against him and the sorrow in her heart seemed to flow into his. He was certain that she missed her homeland, even though she was determinedly optimistic and never mentioned it. It confirmed that he was making the right decision.

  “After I talked to the trader, I started to think about the future. I do not know if the work that I am doing now will be profitable if more traders start to use the same routes.”

  “Can you stop them?”

  “I cannot stop them. We are free to trade in this land anywhere we wish.”

  “Can you take other routes?”

  “I could, and there might be some that would be profitable. But it would take a long time to discover the ones that are and the ones that are not. And they are all far away from here, which would mean that I would see a lot less of you than I do now. It is not something I wish for.”

  She was silent for a moment. “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  He took a deep breath. “I am going to take you home.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Tara stood up in the longship, straining her eyes to catch the first glimpse of land. The wind was in their favor and the weather had been mild. The ship skimmed across the water, every breath of wind taking her closer to home. Erik sat behind her and the few belongings they had brought with them were stowed in the cargo area. It was an arduous journey to cross the ocean, but Tara had hardly noticed. Each heartbeat drew her closer to her homeland.

  “Look! There it is!” she shouted, pointing to the first sliver of land as it appeared on the horizon.

  Erik grinned at her excitement, although it was with mixed feelings that he’d said goodbye to everything familiar in his life to embark on this new adventure. He would miss the land of his birth but perhaps in time, he would return. That remained to be seen. Tara was almost falling overboard in her excitement and he grabbed hold of her tunic, just to be safe.

  Soon, the ship pulled into the harbor at Dubh Linn. Tara was overwhelmed by the emotions of the moment. She clambered from the boat and fell to the ground, tears pouring down her cheeks as she caressed the soil. She couldn’t believe that she had returned to the land of her birth and her heart could not contain the joy, the exhilaration, and the sorrow for what she had lost. She only hoped that her family would still be alive and well in their little village and that the finngail had not stolen anyone else.

  Erik came to stand beside her as she knelt on the ground, weeping. He said nothing, only touched her shoulders with a comforting hand as the memories of what she had endured since she last stood on the shores of this land poured from her eyes. She wept for her mother, who without doubt believed she would never see her daughter again. Tears rolled down her cheeks for those she had met along the way who were not as fortunate as she. And she wept for herself, for the loss of her humanity, for the time that she had learned that her worth was only the value of a little silver, and for the huge chunk of her soul that the knowledge had torn from her being.

  Erik knew none of these things. He couldn’t possibly know of the agony and despair that she had endured, of the paralyzing terror that consumed her every waking moment as her fate was held in the hands of cruel men. He had no idea of the crushing grief that had accompanied her last glimpse of her homeland, nor of her struggle to accept her new life, knowing that she would never again see her homeland or her family. All he could do was wait until the storm of weeping had ended, knowing that somehow, it was good for her. He had never seen her display so much emotion; it was as if all the passion and pain and promise had been locked away inside until it had built into a deep, swirling cauldron of feelings. And now it had all come out in a torrent of weeping that left her exhausted.

  At last, she was spent, her bright head bowed over the soil she called her own. Erik bent down and gently took her shoulder.

  “Come, my love,” he said. “Let us go to your family.”

  It was late when they arrived at the village of Mullach Eadartha. Tara thanked the farmer who had given them a ride on his wagon and Erik handed the man a coin for his trouble. They walked through the outer stone ring wall that protected the village and kept the animals inside at night, towards the roundhouses at its center. Tara choked back a sob as she looked at the village that had been home for all of her childhood. Nothing had changed; the houses looked the same and the smoke still curled from the chimneys, drifting on the breeze. How could everything look the same when she was so different from the innocent, carefree girl who had left home one morning, never to return? Quietly, she walked up to the door of her parents’ house. The yellow light from the lamp shone through the cracks in the door and she could smell the familiar odors of her mother’s cooking. Her heart constricted and she felt as if she could not breathe. Erik stood beside her, a quiet and calm presence that helped her to steady her fraught emotions.

  “Mother?” she asked tentatively, pushing open the door.

  Aine looked up from her needlework beside the lamp. Her eyes grew huge and her mouth opened wide as a piercing scream burst forth.

  “It is the ghost of Tara,” she shrieked. “It has come to haunt us!” And then she slumped forward in a faint.

  Tara’s father managed to catch her before she fell. Only after she was lying safely on the floor did he look up at the cause of the commotion.

  “Tara!” he exclaimed, fear in his voice. “Have you come to haunt us?”

  “No, Father. I am not a ghost,” she replied. “Feel my hand.” She held out her hand to him and he took it gingerly.

  “It is warm and it feels real,” he muttered. Then his eyes opened wide and a huge grin split his face. “Tara, my girl! You have returned!” He swept her into his arms and twirled her around in a huge bear hug. “You have returned,” he said over
and over.

  When he finally put her down, Tara motioned to Erik to come inside while Tara’s father attended to her mother. He looked up as Erik entered, shock on his face.

  “A finngail!” he exclaimed, recoiling in fear.

  Just then, Tara’s mother woke up. She sat up and her eyes opened wide with terror.

  “A finngail, Cormac!” she shrieked, pointing a shaking finger at Erik. “Do something before he kills us all!”

  “Mother, calm down,” Tara said. “He is a friendly finngail. He will not harm us. In fact, he is my husband.”

  Aine closed her mouth but continued to watch Erik warily. “Oh Tara, is it really you?” she asked, at last, rising from the floor.

  “It is me, Mother,” Tara said and stepped into her mother’s arms for a long embrace. She never wanted to let go again.

  They stayed awake half the night, laughing and crying as they shared the stories of each other’s lives since Tara had been taken. Her friends and family came and went, each marveling at the miracle that had restored her to them. She learned that they had gone into a period of mourning after her capture, certain that they would never see her again. They had firmly believed she was dead and had held a mass for her soul. She spared them the worst of her ordeal, not wishing to inflict further grief on them after they had already endured plenty. Instead, she focused on the positive things that had happened and the ways that God had answered her prayers.

  At last, happy but exhausted, she snuggled up to Erik on the makeshift bed that her parents had made for them on the floor. Her heart was full; she could not speak another word. With a smile on her face, she drifted off to sleep.

  Erik was awake early the next morning. Leaving Tara sleeping, he slipped out of bed and left the cottage. He didn’t know where he was going but soon found himself at the sheep pen. The sheep watched him carefully but didn’t move. He reached across the wall of the pen and scratched a brown sheep on her woolly back. He liked being with the animals; it calmed his mind and helped him to think.