Viking Warrior

by Connie Mason

  Almost…

  So near yet so far. Wulf stood squarely in the way of her returning to her homeland again. And though she knew he wouldn’t physically hurt her, her heart was bound to suffer if she let him continue to make love to her. She would not allow herself to care for Wulf while she was suppressed under the yoke of slavery. Wulf cared only for the pleasure she brought him in bed, not for her as a person. If he truly cared, he would free her.

  Reyna spent long hours in the stillroom, pro cessing herbs and roots into ointments, salves and potions. She also spent time in Hagar’s hall caring for Olga, who was not recovering as rapidly as she should. Thora had asked Reyna to sleep in Hagar’s hall until Olga regained her strength, and Reyna readily agreed. If nothing else, it thwarted Wulf’s plans for using her to slake his lust.

  When Reyna thought of Wulf bedding Uma, however, a mysterious pain in the region of her heart gripped her. Nevertheless, Reyna remained determined to guard her body and protect her heart from her arrogant Norse master.

  The rains finally ceased and the sun came out; though the air was chilly, it was still pleasant compared to the past dismal days. Reyna had pro cessed all the herbs, roots and bark in the stillroom and decided today would be a perfect time to gather the plants that had been left behind during her earlier excursion.

  Wulf frowned when Reyna explained her intention to venture forth into the forest again. “I will accompany you, of course.”

  When Reyna protested, Wulf reminded her of the wild boar they had encountered previously. “Very well. Can we leave immediately, before the weather turns?”

  Wulf fetched a variety of weapons and they hiked off across the fields, a basket swinging from Reyna’s arm. Despite the sunshine, the air was cool and invigorating. Reyna found a patch of red clover, used to calm colicky babies, and stooped to dig it out. Farther on, she came across some burdock and plucked off the leaves and flowers. When they entered the damp darkness of the forest, Wulf kept a hand on his sword while Reyna knelt beside a patch of mint.

  Wulf stared moodily at Reyna as she worked. He had seen little of her these past few days. She had gone out of her way to avoid him, and his mother hadn’t helped when she asked Reyna to sleep in Hagar’s hall to care for Olga during her slow recovery.

  Did Reyna really hate him? He supposed she had every right to dislike him. Despite his promise, he had seduced her…and enjoyed every minute of it.

  Wulf didn’t understand Reyna’s persistent pleas to be released. She had no onerous duties, she was virtually free to come and go anywhere on the farmstead she pleased, and his family was fond of her.

  If she were free, Reyna might leave him or choose another man to protect her. It did not occur to Wulf to wonder why he felt so possessive of Reyna. His mind refused to delve into the reason he was so attracted to her. He only knew he would not let her go. Dane or not, Reyna pleased him in every way.

  Wulf was so caught up in his troubling thoughts about Reyna that he didn’t hear the whisper of footsteps behind him. Only when the hair on the back of his neck prickled in warning did he whip out his sword and spin around. But by then it was too late. The last thing he recalled was an explosion of pain in his head and then blackness.

  Reyna sniffed the fragrant mint, placed it in her basket and rose. “My basket is full, Wulf. We can leave now.”

  Silence.

  “Wulf?” No answer was forthcoming. She spun around, shocked to see Wulf lying unconscious on the ground. She opened her mouth to scream, then clamped her mouth tightly shut when her gaze rose from Wulf to settle on three men standing nearby. She gave a cry of gladness and ran into the outstretched arms of her eldest brother Borg.

  “Borg, you came for me,” Reyna sobbed into his neck.

  “Did you think we would not, little sister?”

  It was her youngest brother, Dag, who spoke.

  “Dag, you are here too!”

  “Aye, and Ragnar. We brought sailors and warriors with us in case we were forced to do battle. They are hiding in the forest, waiting for our signal to move on the farmstead. But you have made it easy for us, little sister. You came to us.”

  Reyna smiled at her brothers through a veil of tears. “How did you know where to find me?”

  “ ’twas not easy,” Borg replied. “We had all but given up on you. When we embarked on a voyage to Constantinople this past summer, we learned about the beautiful Dane slave girl who had just recently been sold on the auction block. After a little persuasion, the slave trader gave up your name and the name of the Norseman who bought you. He also said that Hagar the Red bought you for his brother, Wulf the Ruthless. We already knew that Wulf the Ruthless was the Norseman who’d raided our home. So here we are. We came prepared to attack the farmstead once we learned for sure that you were there.”

  Ragnar, her betrothed, stepped forward and briefly hugged Reyna. All three men had long dark hair and were big and brawny, though not as brawny as Wulf, Reyna noted.

  “I almost gave up on you but your brothers convinced me you were alive and persuaded me to come with them,” Ragnar explained. Their gazes met and then his slid away. “Are you well?”

  “Aye, I am well, Ragnar.”

  Ragnar poked Wulf with his boot and raised his spear. “Shall I kill him for you?”

  Kill Wulf? No, she did not want Wulf to die. “No, leave him be.”

  “He hurt you, Reyna; he deserves to die,” Dag pointed out.

  “He did me no physical harm,” Reyna asserted.

  Ragnar sent her a skeptical look. “Is he not Wulf the Ruthless, the same Norseman who raided your farmstead, ravished you and sold you in Byzantium? Are you not his thrall?”

  “Wulf did not assault me. ’twas another. You will be happy to know I refused to be subjugated to his will and never considered myself his thrall. We should leave before he awakens. He is a formidable warrior.”

  “I agree with Dag and Ragnar,” Borg said. “Kill him.”

  Ragnar raised his arm again, aiming his spear directly at Wulf’s heart. Reyna’s own heart nearly stopped. She hadn’t saved Wulf’s life only to see it taken away by her former betrothed. She stepped in front of Ragnar. “Stop! I…I want the Norseman for my slave. I want him to learn how demeaning it is to be owned by another person. Death is too easy an end for him.”

  Borg laughed. “So my sister wants revenge, does she? What say you, Dag? Shall we let her have the Norseman? It will not be easy for him to assume the yoke of slavery and bow to the wishes of a woman.”

  Dag shrugged. “If that is what Reyna wants, then let her have him.”

  Wulf woke to find himself bound hand and foot, lying in the bottom of a ship. Rain pelted his face with icy pellets as the ship skipped before the wind at a furious pace. His head felt as if it had been split in two and he could feel the sting of blood in his eyes.

  It occurred to Wulf that he was in a very precarious position. A dozen or more armed men sat in the ship, taking him only Thor knew where. Then he remembered Reyna. Had she been taken captive too? He could see little save for angry gray skies above him and men seated on either side of him as the wind carried the dragonship through the choppy water.

  Who were these men who had captured him? Had they come to his homeland seeking slaves? Had they raided his farmstead, murdered his family? Not knowing was killing him. Never had he felt so helpless.

  “Are you cold, Reyna?” he heard one of the men ask, in the language of her people. Fortunately Wulf could understand the Dane tongue.

  “I am fine, Dag. The furs you brought along are keeping me warm.”

  “Father and Mother will be happy to see you, little sister.”

  “They are alive?” Reyna asked joyfully.

  “They are, but for a time we all thought you were dead, or out of our reach. The gods have favored us.”

  Sister?

  These men had come for Reyna? Questions crowded his mind. Why had he been kept alive?

  “It appears your thrall is comin
g around, Reyna.”

  Thrall? Were they referring to him? He was Reyna’s thrall?

  Her voice came from behind him. His position prevented him from looking at her no matter how he twisted his head. All he got for his effort was a sharp pain behind his eyes.

  “Reyna,” he croaked.

  She was beside him instantly, kneeling near his head. “Are you all right, Wulf?”

  “What happened?”

  “I warned you my brothers would find me.”

  “Are these savages your brothers?”

  “Two of them are. Ragnar, my betrothed, came with them. The others are my brothers’ friends. They came along to man the oars and fight if needed.”

  “You are unhurt?”

  “What do you take us for?” Borg growled. “Reyna is our sister; we would never hurt her, unlike you, Wulf the Ruthless. You are a vicious despoiler of innocents. You would be dead now if not for Reyna. She wanted you for her thrall and Dag and I were inclined to grant her wish.”

  Wulf stared up at Reyna, a fierce scowl darkening his brow. “Is that true, Reyna? Am I your thrall?”

  “So it would seem,” Reyna replied. “Do not complain, Wulf—’tis better than the fate my brothers intended for you.”

  “I am not so sure of that,” Wulf growled in a tone that promised dire retribution. “You will not find me a willing thrall, or an easy one to handle.”

  “I am confident one of us can ‘whip’ you into shape,” Dag quipped.

  Another voice joined in. “You took from Reyna what rightfully belonged to me. I would have slain you without a qualm had Reyna not asked that you be spared and bound to her in slavery. ’twill be a far crueler fate than death.”

  Wulf made a gurgling sound in his throat, aware that the man who had just spoken must be Reyna’s betrothed. He had never felt so powerless in his life. His head was pounding and all this talk of slavery was just beginning to sink in.

  “You are wrong, Ragnar,” Reyna protested. “Wulf is guilty of many things, but ravishing me is not one of them.”

  “Enough of this,” Borg ordered. “We will sort everything out when we reach our farmstead. But no matter what, Wulf the Ruthless will be punished for his insult to our sister.”

  The dragonship hugged the shore of Norway, following natural landmarks of mountains, fiords and burial mounds as navigational aids. When darkness fell, they beached the ship for the night at a secluded spot and made camp. Not daring to light a fire, they ate a meal of smoked fish, cheese and bread before curling up in their furs for the night.

  Borg refused to untie Wulf, so Reyna fed him. Then Borg led Wulf into the woods to relieve himself. Humiliation rode Wulf. Never had he felt so shamed.

  At first light they returned to the ship and headed due south across the sea to the land of the Danes. Once they reached open water, the stiff breeze carried them forward. The men laid down their oars and raised the square red-and-white-striped sail.

  The wind held, and four days later Wulf spotted the Danish coast. The ship sailed into the fjord and docked at a sandy landing. Wulf was unceremoniously hauled from the ship and forced to walk inland, to the farmstead he recalled raiding two summers earlier. Though Reyna walked at his side, he refused to look at her. Not only was he a thrall, but his mistress was a woman who had once been his to command.

  The situation was intolerable.

  “Oh, the farmstead still stands,” Reyna cried when the many outbuildings of the farmstead came into view.

  Borg poked Wulf in the back with his spear. “We rebuilt the buildings that this Norse bastard burned.” He paused, then said, “Reyna, I did not tell you that Father was wounded during the raid. He is well now but still limps from a leg wound that healed badly.”

  “And Mother? You did not mention how she fared.”

  “Mother fled through the back door. She and our thralls hid in the woods until the raiders left. They looked everywhere for you but you could not be found. Then one of our wounded told them he had seen you lying on the ground, and that a Norseman scooped you up and carried you off.”

  “I am sorry we were not there to protect you, little sister,” Dag aplogized. “The Norseman will suffer for assaulting you.”

  Reyna darted a furtive glance at Wulf. His blond hair was matted with blood and his silver eyes, sweet Freya, his eyes were boiling cauldrons of rage. Did he not realize she had saved his life? If not for her, he would have been slain where he lay, within sight of his farmstead.

  “Wulf did not…hurt me,” Reyna choked out. It was still difficult to talk about the act that had taken her innocence.

  “I do not believe you!” Ragnar spat. “Doubtless the Norseman has raped countless innocent women.”

  “I am not lying, Ragnar,” Reyna huffed. “Why would I lie about it?”

  “Do you deny the Norseman took you to Byzantium and sold you into slavery?” Dag asked.

  “No, I cannot deny Wulf sold me to a slave trader,” Reyna admitted.

  “Things are not what they seem,” Wulf growled. “Did the Danes care when they raided my farmstead and killed my wife and unborn child? I think not. I but sought revenge for my terrible loss.”

  “We are a family of farmers and traders,” Borg shot back. “Did you even care who you were attacking before you raided our farmstead?”

  Wulf shrugged. “Danes are Danes. At the time it did not matter who we were raiding. Your farmstead was close to where we happened to beach our ships. You would have done the same in my place.”

  “Your excuses are meaningless, Norseman,” Ragnar growled out. “You took my betrothed and used her as your bed slave. Does she carry your bastard in her belly?”

  “Ragnar, please stop!” Reyna pleaded. “The past cannot be undone.”

  “Quit badgering her,” Wulf growled.

  Ragnar sent him a poisonous glare. “Think you I want to remember what you did to my betrothed? But I must know. A Norseman’s bastard will never become my heir.”

  Reyna sucked in a sharp breath. Though she could very well be carrying Wulf’s child, she wouldn’t allow herself to think about that possibility now. Apparently Ragnar was as angry at her as he was at Wulf.

  “Enough!” Borg shouted. “We will speak of this later. We are home now. Father is standing outside the long-house to greet us.”

  A smile curved Reyna’s lips when she saw her father. His face was glowing with joy as he ran toward her, his limp slowing him down not at all.

  Reyna lifted her skirts and raced to meet him. Her father caught her in his arms and held her tight. “Reyna, sweet Reyna, we feared we would never see you again.” He held her away from him and searched her face. “Are you well? Did they hurt you?”

  “I am fine, Father, truly. Wulf’s family treated me like one of their own.”

  “Wulf the Ruthless?” His sharp green eyes found Wulf. A feral growl burst from his throat. He removed a dagger from his belt and started toward Wulf, intending no less than murder.

  “Father, no!” Reyna cried.

  “Tell me why I should not kill him.”

  “Wulf is my thrall. Borg and Dag said I might have him.”

  Harald Fairhair pulled up short. “Your thrall? Is that why he is here instead of in hell?”

  “Aye,” Borg answered. “ ’tis Reyna’s right to name the Norseman’s fate and she chose a life of slavery for him.”

  Harald stroked his bearded chin. “Are you sure of this, daughter? The man looks dangerous.”

  “You do not know how dangerous,” Wulf muttered. “Release me now and I will spare your lives.”

  “I say we kill him before he kills us,” Ragnar persisted.

  Borg searched Reyna’s face. “What say you, sister? Shall we kill your tormentor?”

  “Wulf did not torment me,” Reyna insisted. “Leave him alone. He is my thrall. ’tis my right to say whether he shall live or die.”

  Borg sent her a strange look but said no more. Reyna studied her father as she walked alongside
him. Though he appeared older, his hair a little grayer, he was still vigorous despite his limp. She had imagined all kinds of dire circumstances since the raid, but after two summers, the farmstead and it occupants seemed to be prospering.

  The front door opened and a tall woman with graying blond braids stepped out. She gave a cry of gladness and rushed forth, arms opened wide. Moments later Reyna was enveloped in her mother’s fierce embrace. “I have prayed to the gods for this moment,” Maida cried. “Oh daughter, we have missed you! I never dared hope your brothers would find you and return you to us.”

  “I missed all of you so much,” Reyna said in a choked voice.

  “Our daughter is finally home, Maida,” Harald said joyfully.

  Maida’s gaze slid past Reyna to Wulf. Her eyes hardened as she released her daughter and poked a finger at Wulf. “Is that the Norseman who carried you off? What is he doing here?”

  “Wulf is my thrall,” Reyna explained. “Borg, Dag and Ragnar captured him.”

  “They should have killed him,” Maida spat. “That Norseman is trouble. One has but to look into those cold eyes to know he will not submit easily.”

  “I have a better solution,” Reyna said in sudden inspiration. “Why not demand danegeld for him? His brother is a wealthy jarl and will pay any ransom we name for his safe return.”

  “Reyna’s idea merits consideration,” Borg said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “It is a way of regaining what we lost in the raid.”

  “I am not convinced,” Maida replied. “Wulf the Ruthless carried off some of my most prized possessions and burned our crops. We had to sell most of our thralls to provide food that winter.”

  Harald listened to his wife and sons before making his decision. He was, after all, a jarl and head of the family. “ ’tis in our best interest to demand danegeld for the Norseman, but it will have to wait until spring. Winter is nearly upon us, and the open water is too dangerous to traverse now. Until the demand can be delivered, Wulf the Ruthless will serve as Reyna’s thrall.”