by Connie Mason
“I will think on it,” Wulf said. “Meanwhile, I am ready to break my fast. When you cook my food, make an extra portion for Reyna. She has not yet eaten.”
“I warmed up some porridge for her,” Uma said, reaching for a bowl.
Wulf glanced at the trenchers Uma and Lorne had been eating from, noting the remnants of eggs and meat. “I see you and Lorne have already eaten.”
Reyna saw Uma swallow nervously and she suppressed a smile despite her smarting cheek. Uma had a heavy hand.
“Aye, we broke our fast while Reyna slept,” Uma mumbled.
“I see,” Wulf said. “What did you eat?”
“Eggs and ham, master.”
“Reyna and I will have the same.”
“There are no more eggs. I assumed you would eat with your family as you usually do.”
“This time you are wrong.” He turned to Reyna. “Go to the hen house to fetch eggs while Uma prepares food for us.”
Reyna didn’t argue. Gathering eggs was far easier than hauling water.
The hens were generous this morning. Reyna easily found enough eggs to fill her basket and returned to the hall in quick order.
“You may sup at the table with me,” Wulf said, as if granting her a boon.
Reyna sat as far away from Wulf as she could get. A few minutes later Uma placed a platter of eggs and ham in front of Wulf and a smaller trencher before Reyna. Then she served each a horn of buttermilk.
Reyna ate with gusto, savoring every bite. She preferred eggs and ham to porridge any day.
Wulf watched Reyna eat from the corner of his eye. She had a hearty appetite, he noted, and wondered if all her appetites were robust. He shook the thought from his head and concentrated on his food.
“May I begin my search for herbs and roots this morning?” Reyna asked.
“Not now. Perhaps later, when I can accompany you,” Wulf replied.
“Do you fear I will run away?”
“I fear losing a valuable property to wild animals.”
Reyna bristled. “Give me a weapon. I can take care of myself.”
Wulf pushed his empty plate aside and rose. “Thralls are not allowed weapons. I will take you when I have time.”
A commotion outside the door effectively stopped the verbal confrontation. “What is happening?” Reyna asked.
“I do not know. Stay here, all of you,” Wulf ordered as he retrieved Blood-Seeker from where it leaned against the hearth, and he strode out the door.
The sound of agitated voices in the yard grew louder. Reyna’s lively curiosity wouldn’t allow her to sit idly by when she might be of help. She started toward the front door.
“Where are you going?” Uma called after her.
“To see what is happening,” Reyna answered.
“But the master said…”
“I heard Wulf, but I refuse to take orders from the likes of him.”
Reyna opened the door and stepped out into the morning sunshine. One glance at the crowd gathered around something or someone lying on the ground was enough to send her racing forward to investigate. No one seemed to notice as she pushed her way through the crowd until she saw Wulf kneeling beside a youth. The boy’s head rested in Thora’s lap while his life’s blood drained from his body. Pushing Wulf aside, Reyna dropped to her knees beside the lad.
“What happened?” she asked, visually assessing the boy’s wounds. “Who is he?”
“My brother Olaf,” Wulf said. As if suddenly realizing whom he was talking to, Wulf ordered, “Return to the hall at once. You are not needed here.”
“Your brother is wounded, I can help.”
“Reyna is right, son,” Thora agreed. “She is a healer; let her tend to your brother.”
That was all the permission Reyna needed. “Carry him inside. Be careful not to jostle him. Someone fetch the medicinal chest from Wulf’s hall.”
Though some might have thought Reyna had overstepped her authority, no one countermanded her orders.
Chapter Three
Wulf scooped Olaf into his arms and carried him to his sleeping alcove in Hagar’s hall.
“Lay him down carefully,” Reyna admonished. Wulf obeyed without question. “Undress him so I can see how badly he is injured.”
“Hagar and I will disrobe him,” Wulf replied. “Step back, Reyna.”
Reyna heaved an exasperated sigh. “You do know I’ll have to see his body if I am to treat him, don’t you?”
“I know,” Wulf said through clenched teeth, “but let us do this for him. Gather what you need to treat him.”
The medicinal chest arrived, and right behind it a basin of hot water and strips of linen cloth. By the time Reyna had everything laid out on a nearby table, Wulf and his brother had undressed Olaf and covered him with a sheet Thora had provided.
“Light more rushes. Then all of you leave except for Thora,” Reyna ordered.
“We will stay until we learn how badly our brother is hurt,” Wulf declared as Hagar hurriedly lit two more rushes, placed them in wall sconces and returned to hover over Olaf.
Just then Olaf opened his eyes and reached a shaking hand out to his brothers. Wulf clasped his hand. “Do not talk. You are going to be all right.”
“Listen to me,” Olaf gasped. “You need to know…”
“Can it not wait?” Hagar asked.
“Nay, this is a matter of life or death. The village to the south of us was raided by Finns before dawn today.”
“Raided? By Finns? Are you sure?”
“Aye, I bear the wounds to prove it. I went to the village after the evening meal last night to visit…a friend. I lingered too long and decided to spend the night, arise before dawn and return home. The Finns came ashore in wave after wave while I was preparing to leave. I…I had no choice but to fight for my life.”
“The sails!” Reyna cried. “I knew they meant trouble.”
Olaf was breathing hard now as he struggled to continue. “The raiders are coming here next. They will attack at dawn tomorrow.”
“How do you know this?” Hagar asked.
“I heard them talk about it as I lay wounded on the ground. They thought I was dead. They want plunder and slaves.”
“Enough!” Reyna said. “I beg you, if you care about your brother, let me treat his wounds.”
Hagar and Wulf exchanged speaking glances. “Come, brother,” Hagar said, “there is a great deal to be done before dawn tomorrow.”
“Take care of Olaf,” Wulf told Reyna as he ushered Hagar out the door.
Thora hovered over her son, wringing her hands. “Olaf has lost consciousness. Will he live? Is there anything I can do?”
Reyna spared Thora a glance. “His head injury is bleeding profusely but ’tis not life threatening. Dip a cloth in water and clean it while I tend to his more serious wounds.”
Slowly Reyna slipped the sheet down Olaf’s body, until she found the source of all the blood. Stifling a gasp, she stared at the gaping gash in his right side, just above his hip. Blood still oozed from it. Apparently a Finn had tried to cleave Olaf in half with his battle-axe.
“How bad is it?” Thora asked tremulously.
Reaching for a cloth, Reyna dipped it into the basin of hot water and pressed it against the wound. “It doesn’t look good, but rest assured I will do my best to save him.”
“You were right about my son’s head injury, Reyna, it is not serious,” Thora said. “A stitch or two will suffice. I can do it while you treat the more serious wound.”
Reyna nodded as she concentrated on the work ahead of her. She continued putting pressure on the wound while Thora placed neat stitches on Olaf’s forehead. After several long minutes, the bleeding from the gaping wound in Olaf’s side slowed to a trickle. Very carefully Reyna removed the cloth, frowning when she saw just how many stitches it would take to close the wound. But first things first.
After washing her hands with soap, she carefully cleaned the wound. Then she asked Thora to fetch d
ill seeds from the medicinal chest. These she placed directly into the wound before stitching it up. The stitching was a slow pro cess; Reyna was a skilled healer and would allow no mistakes. Before binding the wound, Reyna smeared salve made from yarrow root over it.
“That’s all we can do for him now,” Reyna said as she felt Olaf’s forehead for fever. “He must be watched closely. I will brew an infusion of herbs to ward off fever and valerian root to help deaden his pain.”
When Reyna turned to leave, Thora pleaded, “Do not leave. Olaf may need you.”
“I won’t be gone long. Do you know where Wulf went?”
“He left to summon warriors from nearby villages and farmsteads. We will need all the help we can get to defeat the raiders. We are too few to do it without help.”
Reyna nodded and left the alcove, carrying the medicinal chest with her. She was surprised to see Wulf pacing just outside the curtain. “I thought you’d left.”
“I waited to learn more about Olaf’s condition. Is he awake? Can I speak with him?”
“He is still unconscious. I am going to brew an infusion of herbs to ease his pain, and then prepare a rich beef broth to replenish the blood he has lost. As for his condition, though he has lost a great deal of blood, I believe he will recover.”
“Thank Odin for that. I must leave now. The more warriors we can gather, the easier it will be to crush the Finns when they attack. Though they are fearsome warriors, I have every confidence in our ability to defend our farmstead.”
Reyna watched Wulf stride off. Armed to the teeth, he was an awesome sight. Shuddering at the memory, she vividly recalled her first encounter with Wulf the Ruthless. He had been so crazed and driven by blood-lust, she was surprised he had recognized her when his brother brought her to their farmstead. He had scarcely spared her a glance during the voyage to Byzantium.
Shaking her head to banish the memory, Reyna carried the medicinal chest to the hearth, where she asked a thrall to help her prepare what she needed for Olaf.
Reyna glanced around the hall, surprised to see the thralls going about their duties as if the farmstead weren’t about to be raided. She supposed they had no choice in the matter.
While the tea was brewing, Reyna found a piece of newly slaughtered beef and placed it in a cauldron with water and herbs for the broth. She worked over the hearth until Thora poked her head through the curtain and said, “Olaf is awake and in pain.”
“The tea is ready,” Reyna replied.
She poured the valerian tea into a horn, carried it to Olaf’s sleeping alcove and handed it to Thora. “I will lift his head while you try to get some of it down him.”
“Where are Hagar and Wulf?” Olaf gasped. “The Finns…”
“They know, you already told them,” Thora soothed. “Your brothers will take care of everything. Drink this; it will ease your pain.”
Olaf took several sips, then pushed the horn away, signaling that he had had enough. Thora glanced at Reyna. Reyna nodded, indicating that Olaf had consumed enough to dull his pain. Then Thora laid his head back on the pillow. A few minutes later, he closed his eyes and slept.
“If you have things to do, I can sit with him,” Reyna offered.
“Thank you, I should see to the preparation of food for the warriors that will help defend us against the raiders.”
“Where are your daughters?” Reyna asked. “I did not see them in the hall.”
“I sent the girls inland to my brother’s farmstead with young Eric for protection. The Finns have come for plunder and slaves.” She drew herself up to her full height. “No daughters of mine will become slaves.”
Reyna’s voice was strangely calm despite the insensitivity of that statement. “My mother said the same, yet I was taken captive by your son and sold to a foreign master. Now I am Wulf’s slave.”
Thora had the grace to flush. Her words held a hint of pity. “I am sorry, Reyna. It may not be fair, but it is the way of life in our harsh lands.”
“Some of us are unluckier than others. If there is a change in Olaf’s condition, I will summon you.” Bitterness tinged Reyna’s words; she did not want Thora’s pity.
Thora nodded and left the alcove. Reyna pulled a bench up to the bed and sat down to watch over the wounded lad. Olaf slept most of the day, moaning softly in his sleep. Toward evening, the fever she had been expecting arrived.
Rummaging in the medicinal chest, Reyna found willow bark and left the alcove to brew an infusion to cool his fever. Thora saw her and sent her a worried look.
“Has Olaf taken a turn for the worse?”
“He is feverish. ’tis no more than I expected. Can you boil some willow bark tea? It should help bring down his fever.”
“Of course, and I will send a thrall to fetch cold water. I have found that bathing feverish patients with cold water helps.” Thora searched Reyna’s face. “You look exhausted.” She led Reyna to one of the tables being set up in the hall. “Sit down—you need to eat and rest. I will boil the tea for Olaf and bathe him myself.”
Reyna sank onto the bench. She was tired and worried. Though he might be her enemy, she didn’t want Olaf to die. He was young and ought to have a full life ahead of him.
Thora placed a heaping plate of food before her. “Eat your fill; once the Finns arrive, there is no telling when we will eat again.”
“Do you think they will prevail over the Norsemen?”
“Our men are strong and prepared. Fear not, they will defeat the enemy.”
Reyna’s stomach growled, and she dug into her food. She had been given a generous portion of roasted pork, cheese, vegetables, bread and freshly churned butter. While she ate, Wulf returned to the hall and strode over to join her. “How is my brother?”
Reyna pushed her empty plate aside and glanced up at Wulf. “Feverish, but I expect him to recover.”
“Why are you not with him?”
“Your mother ordered me to eat and rest while she bathed Olaf with cold water and fed him willow bark tea to bring down his fever. Did you find the warriors you need?”
“Many of our kinsmen, kraalls and warriors from neighboring farmsteads have begun to arrive, armed and ready to defend our shores. Surprise is on our side. The raiders have no idea we have been warned, or that we plan to set up two lines of defense to protect our farmstead.”
“What happens now?”
“After I look in on my brother, I intend to see to my weapons and then get some rest.”
“Shall I return to your hall to night?”
“No, remain here with Olaf. He might have need of you.”
“Am I allowed a weapon to defend myself?”
“We defend our own,” Wulf growled. “A weapon will be of little use to you.” So saying, he strode into Olaf’s sleeping alcove.
Reyna spent a restless night rolled up in a wolf pelt beside Olaf’s bed. Except for those on guard duty, everyone had retired for the night, though Reyna had no idea how they could sleep with the prospect of a fierce battle looming over them.
Reyna awakened several times during the night to check on Olaf. He was still feverish. She fed him more willow bark tea and bathed his face and neck with cold water. When she awoke at dawn, it was to war cries and the clash of weapons.
The Finns had come ashore and the battle had begun.
Reyna rushed from the sleeping alcove, surprised to see Thora and Olga sitting on a bench, calmly tearing cloth for bandages. Olga scowled at Reyna as she joined them.
“What are you doing out here? You are supposed to be tending to Olaf.”
Thora placed a calming hand on Olga. “Do not fuss at Reyna, Olga. She saved Olaf’s life.” To Reyna she asked, “How is my son? He was sleeping when I looked in on him earlier.”
“Olaf’s wound has not turned putrid and he seems to be holding his own. I am confident his fever will break today.”
“His recovery is due entirely to your healing skills, Reyna. I thank you. The warriors ate hours ago but there is
porridge in the cauldron. Please help yourself.”
“I couldn’t eat a thing while the fighting is raging, but perhaps we should try to get some broth down Olaf.”
The din outside became louder. Reyna glanced toward the door. “What is going on out there?”
“ ’tis none of your concern,” Olga snapped. “You are a thrall. You will either have a new master or keep the old one this day.”
A commotion coming from Olaf’s sleeping alcove brought Thora to her feet. Reyna cried out in dismay when she saw Olaf stagger through the curtains, a sword hanging from one hand. If Thora hadn’t run to support him, he would have fallen.
“What are you doing up? Are you trying to kill yourself after Reyna worked tirelessly to save your life?”
“I want to fight,” Olaf mumbled. “Dying a ‘straw death’ in my bed will not earn me the right to enter Valhalla. When I die, I want it to be with a sword in my hand.”
The words had scarcely left his mouth before his sword clattered to the floor and he collapsed to his knees. Olga rushed forward to help Thora ease Olaf back into his bed. Reyna glanced at the sword lying on the floor and without hesitation scooped it up. Though its weight felt heavy in her hand, the weapon reinforced her courage. The battle being waged outside reminded her of that fateful attack upon her farmstead, and her capture by a Norse berserker.
Reyna’s natural curiosity sent her inching toward the door. She had to know what was going on outside. With shaking hands she unlatched the door and pushed it open just enough for a glimpse of the chaos outside. She covered her mouth with her hand at the sight of the bloody battle being fought with swords, battle-axes and spears. It was a scene straight from hell. It appeared that the Finns had gained substantial ground despite the carefully laid plans of the Norsemen. It didn’t take a genius to realize why. The Norsemen were outnumbered two to one.
Reyna couldn’t move, could scarcely breathe as she watched the raging battle in growing horror. Blood-soaked men lay on the ground, some wounded, some dying, some already dead. But despite the odds against them, Reyna was heartened to note that the tide appeared to be turning in favor of the Norsemen.
They were slowly driving the Finns back, toward the fjord and their dragonships. She looked for Wulf and saw him fighting for his life, using his sword and battle-axe to hack at the enemy. Wulf the Ruthless was upholding his name with fierce courage and a magnificent display of skill.