by Desconhecido
“She fled into the shadows as soon as we sat down.” The woman pointed toward the back of the hall.
Eireann hesitated, looking deep into the shadows for any sign of movement.
“Hey, Eireann, more beer?” Eirik called.
She grabbed a pitcher and hurried back to the table. In her haste, she spilled as she filled Eirik’s cup.
“What’s up with you?” Leif asked, mopping up spilled beer before it soaked his lap.
“Forgive me, Saibh’s not where I left her. I’m worried,” she replied, looking back toward the shadows at the far end of the hall.
Fridgeir took the pitcher from her. “Go find her and bring her back here. We’ll see if we can’t find a quieter place for her.”
“Thank you.” She hurried back to the other end of the hall. It held several cabinets for storage and in one corner, deep in the shadows cast by the oil lamps, a door leading out to the yard. Eireann’s heart sank. The door latch hadn’t caught securely, like some one had swung it shut in a hurry. She glanced back at Fridgeir, wondering if she should ask before going out. But he told me to go and find Saibh. Didn’t he? She let herself out into the yard. Torches lit the area near the front of the hall where the bulk of the men ate. She knew her sister would stay away from all the noise. She started in the milk shed.
“Saibh?” she called softly, “Where are you? Come out, it’s just me.”
Chapter 16
Day 7, night
The faint sound of a commotion filtered into the hall. Eirik cocked his head and fire lit his eyes. “Fridgeir, sounds like your wild one’s in trouble.”
The men hurried outside with Nokki and the cousins in tow.
A man named Djuri had a struggling and furious Eireann pinned against the wall, arm back ready to strike her.
“Stop!” Nokki called, “What’s going on here?”
“This slave bitch bit me!” Djuri growled. “She needs a lesson in manners.” The growing red mark on her face showed where she’d already been hit.
“Forgive me, I’ll take care of it,” Fridgeir assured the man—but Djuri refused to let go until Nokki glared at him.
Fridgeir admonished her as he roughly pulled her away. “Eireann! You were told to call for help. You can’t just bite free men every time they touch you.” Gods would she never learn?
She looked down sullenly. “I did try to call for help! And pushing him off like you said. But he shoved me against the wall and covered my mouth!”
Djuri drew himself up. “Looked like she was trying to run away. I was just trying to stop her.”
Fridgeir looked surprised. “Really, and what gives you that idea?” He looked at Eireann for an explanation.
Eireann replied swiftly. “I was looking for Saibh like you told me. The back door wasn’t latched tight so I thought she might be hiding in one of the sheds or haylofts.” She glared daggers at Djuri. “I told them but they wouldn’t listen.”
Djuri snorted. “Mouthy bitch started cursing me!”
Nokki waved him to silence. “Is that true, slave?”
Eireann toed the dirt. “Goat-sucking man-whore! Can’t take an insult from a slave!”
Djuri growled back. “Wasn’t about to let that witch curse me! Should have just slit her throat.”
Eirik spoke for the first time. “She’s no witch, never was. Even if she had been, it’s obvious someone already took care of it.”
Djuri retorted defensively. “Didn’t seem that way to me.” Then he puffed up in challenge. ”I’d already heard all about Fridgeir’s reluctance to claim her proper.”
“Don’t know who told you that but they are wrong,” Fridgeir replied coldly.
“She’s still no right to bite me!” Djuri sounded slightly smug.
“Then you shouldn’t have shoved that disgusting thing you call a tongue halfway down my throat!” Eireann retorted with a voice full of scorn. “I’ve sucked sweaty cocks that tasted better!” She spit to rid herself of his foul taste. He stepped up like he might hit her again while several men guffawed at her insults.
Fridgeir stepped into his path with one hand already on his knife hilt. He’d heard enough. The man not only manhandled his woman but insulted his honor.
“You stuck something of yours in something of mine?” Fridgeir’s tone became cold as the frozen icebergs of the north.
Djuri shrugged. “So what? It’s not like you’ve made good your claim.”
Fridgeir clenched his jaw in anger. “I have. You insult my honor!”
Nokki spoke up, “Djuri, you should have asked or made a proper challenge. Fridgeir’s right to be insulted.” He spoke firmly to his man. His face made it clear he expected Djuri to apologize. Djuri spat at Fridgeir’s feet.
“Don’t break anything,” Eirik cautioned Fridgeir as they stepped back to give the men room.
Djuri stepped toward Fridgeir with an evil grin on his face. “Oh, come now, Fridgeir, you don’t really want her. We all know your alleged ‘playfulness’ is just a cover. It’s not that free women don’t want you, is it? More the other way around?” His companions’ snickers egged him on and he continued, his voice dripping with scorn. “Think you can fool us by pretending to bed this bitch? You make the perfect couple. No witch wants a man so she’s not like to complain about your lack of interest.” He and Fridgeir peeled their tunics off.
Fridgeir kept a tight rein on his fury, schooling his face into an icy mask. He pulled his seax.
Eireann’s softly spoken words reached his ears in the growing quiet. “Did he just say Fridgeir prefers men?” Arinbjorn nodded.
She snorted softly. “I should be so lucky!”
Djuri continued taunting Fridgeir. “It’s been obvious since you were a boy you’ve been pining for someone else. Someone much taller and well bearded.” He glanced slyly at Eirik. “That’s why your last one stepped out on you, isn’t it? You couldn’t satisfy her?” He gloated as several of his companions laughed cruelly. “A real man would have demanded blood. But not you. Afraid she’d tell everyone she had the wrong equipment for you?”
A jeering voice joined in from the crowd. “I think he just likes getting tied up and having his ass spanked!”
Eirik set his hand on Fridgeir’s shoulder for a moment. “Break anything you want but don’t kill him.” He spoke loudly enough to be heard and then backed out of the way.
Fridgeir let a feral grin slide across his face. “Pull your blade, Djuri.” His soft tone blanketed the yard in warning. Cocky beardless worm thinks to goad me into a rage with his insults. No way I’d ever be that stupid.
Djuri drew his blade. “I’ve always wondered why you liked letting a berserker toss you around. Must really get you off being the High King’s toy.” His voice dripped with derision and many in the crowd hooted their amusement.
Fridgeir said nothing, his gaze glued on his enemy like a cat hones in on a mouse. Djuri circled, danced in with a fancy slice and came back with stinging knuckles. Fridgeir rapped them with his blade rather than cut him.
“Forget which side of the knife to use?” Djuri taunted. “Eirik’s toy! Surprised you’ve survived this long. He keep you in the back to make sure you’re safe?”
Fridgeir slid sideways, feinting a strike. Djuri circled to strike at Fridgeir’s back. Fridgeir twisted out of the way and slammed him in the back with his elbow as Djuri staggered past. The man grunted from the strength of the blow.
Fridgeir allowed himself a feral grin. He knew he could finish the man easily but wanted to make him hurt first. They circled and crashed together, blades locked and free hands struggling to overpower each other. Fridgeir let his grip slip. Djuri lunged forward, his face went straight into Fridgeir’s elbow. Blood ran from Djuri’s broken nose.
“First blood to Fridgeir!” someone called.
“That the best you can do?” Djuri jeered. “Still can’t figure out how to use a real blade? Too much time cutting wood with that axe of yours?”
Fridgeir’s lips twitched in anger. He
knew that’s what the man wanted—to goad him into making a mistake. But Fridgeir had been at this way too long to give in to anger. This time he attacked in a flurry of thrusts, parries and blows. When they parted, blood showed as shiny trickles down both Djuri’s forearms.
Fridgeir had no marks on him. He curled back his lips in a toothy snarl. The next flurry left Djuri with a long cut on his cheek and bruises swelling on his cracked ribs. Not even a faint scratch showed on Fridgeir. With an arrogant sneer, Fridgeir handed his seax to Arinbjorn.
“It seems an unfair match. This should even things.” His condescending tone obviously bit into Djuri. The man lunged with his knife, expecting Fridgeir to dodge. Instead he stepped into the lunge, took Djuri's arm and used his momentum to flip him on to the ground, hard. Air whooshed out of the man’s lungs as he hit on his back. Fridgeir stood smiling down at him.
“That the best you’ve got? I haven’t even broken a sweat yet!” Fridgeir taunted and backed up to let him stand.
Djuri rolled to his feet, knife ready for a quick stab rather than slice. A kill stroke. Fridgeir just smiled and circled, feinted to his left. Djuri struck, Fridgeir stepped into it and with a twist and thrust of his hip sent his opponent into the hard dirt again. For a moment Djuri lay sucking air in. He looked like he might give over. But Fridgeir wasn’t through with him yet. Let’s see if he’s up to a few good taunts.
Fridgeir turned to the circle around them, leaving his back wide open. “I think town living’s made him soft. That slave gives me a better workout!” he jeered and the crowd laughed. Eireann grinned back broadly, her white teeth flashing. Her tongue swept across her top teeth suggestively.
Djuri leaped to his feet and lunged forward, aiming for a deep thrust into Fridgeir’s back. Fridgeir dodged, spun and once more sent his opponent slamming to the ground with a bone-jarring thud. This time Fridgeir followed, twisting the man’s wrist painfully. Djuri choked back a scream. A rap from the side of Fridgeir’s other hand and the knife fell to the ground, his hand hanging numb and useless. Djuri swiveled to grab Fridgeir between his legs. They tumbled in the dirt. A grunt turned to a choked scream as Fridgeir twisted the man’s leg to flip him and then landed on top, with Djuri’s face mashed into the dirt. Blood from his broken nose formed a muddy puddle under him. Fridgeir held one arm twisted painfully behind Djuri’s back. A strong twist and it would rip clear of the shoulder socket.
Fridgeir smiled viciously and tweaked his arm.
“I spar with Eirik because it makes me a better warrior. And I didn’t demand blood because there was no honor in challenging a townsman a good twenty years older than I am!” Fridgeir twisted the man's arm harder. “My slave didn’t do more than nip you—because if she’d really meant to hurt you, you’d be missing part of that wagging tongue of yours! How do I know? Because I really do like it rough and she’s got a wicked, mean and exciting bite! And just so everyone’s clear, I give as good as I get. Not a lot of women truly enjoy it.” He rapped the man’s face hard against the dirt and stood.
“Anyone else want to challenge me? Question my manhood? Or honor? Or think I haven’t made a proper claim?” He raked the group with his angry stare, pausing briefly on Floki. “No? Then I think I was promised a warm sleeping alcove. Unless you’re worried about us making too much noise?” His brow cocked in challenge and then he found Nokki’s head of hall in the gathered throng.
She suppressed a smile. “I’ve a quiet corner for you. Unless you want the bull pen?”
Fridgeir chuckled and shook his head.
Djuri’s friends helped him to his feet and steadied him. Fridgeir had seriously twisted the man’s knee and ankle, nearly breaking both. He couldn’t walk on his own.
Eirik smiled and slapped his friend’s back. “Nice. Couldn’t have done it better. In fact, I think I need to review that last move with you. Very nice!” He made a sudden strike that sent Djuri back to the ground despite his friends’ hold on him. “You ever speak like that to me or about me again, and I’ll cut out your wagging tongue!” A flash of Eirik’s fire lit his eyes, backing up the threat.
Fridgeir took his tunic and sword belt from Cedric. Njals handed him his seax and he sheathed it but didn’t redress. He stood bare chested in front of Eireann with a light layer of sweat glistening in the torchlight. He ran his hand along her jaw and pulled her lips to meet his hungry kiss. The crowd roared approval. And plenty of lewd suggestions.
He leaned closer. “Where’s your sister?” He lipped her ear as the crowd laughed and egged him on.
She fought the urge to smack him away. “I haven’t found her. Those pigs grabbed me first.”
Fridgeir turned to Eirik and cocked a brow in question.
* * * *
Eirik called his fire and stepped away from the group. Sverrir joined him. He couldn’t hear her. Sverrir shook his head indicating he couldn’t either.
Eirik paced farther back in the yard and caught a whiff of fear. He stopped in front of a shed and stared at the door, which was latched. Sverrir nodded and pulled the latch open.
“Saibh, it’s Eirik. You’re safe, come out now,” he called gently. The shed reeked with the stench of her fear. He heard her move but not to come out. His eyes adjusted to the dark. She huddled in a far corner, behind farm tools and harnesses. She held a scythe ready to defend herself.
“Saibh, put that down and come out. No one’s going to hurt you.” He dropped onto his heels to meet her gaze. He held out his hand. “Come on—Eireann’s looking for you.” She darted a glance past him. The scythe clattered to the ground and she inched forward. As soon as she could stand, she darted past him into the yard. Sverrir caught her.
“Easy, child.” He spoke gently but she shook hard and struggled.
Fridgeir held Eireann tightly to his side preventing her from moving. “Be still, woman. She needs to learn we won’t harm her.”
“By scaring her half to death?”
Eirik took her from Sverrir. “Saibh, you know me. You know you are under my protection. I won’t hurt you. No one will hurt you.” The girl stopped struggling but still trembled.
“Child, you can’t just run off and hide like that. Although I’d like to know how you came to be locked into that shed.” He inhaled but couldn’t smell any one person’s scent under the smell of leather oil and her own fear. He guided her toward the group.
“Anyone know how she got locked in that shed?” Eirik swept his gaze across the group but no one stood out as guilty. He did notice that Djuri and his buddies had already left.
“Fridgeir, I’ll keep Saibh with me tonight. I’d hate for her to go astray again.” Eirik grinned slyly. “And I suspect you’re going to be a little too distracted for a while to keep a close eye on her.”
Fridgeir snorted in amusement. “Thank you. Somehow I doubt the bed’s big enough for three.”
* * * *
Eireann felt a shiver run up her spine. He wanted her just like the last time he’d fought over her. She wondered if there really was a connection. Eirik let Saibh go to her sister for a few moments.
“It’s alright, little one. I’m fine and so are you. Eirik won’t hurt you,” she reassured her sister. Saibh tentatively touched Eireann’s cheek where her newest bruise showed over the partly healed ones. Then she pointed to her ears, worry in her eyes. She darted a glance at Fridgeir towering over them.
Eireann shook her head. “No, he didn’t hit me. Another man thought to grab me.” She grinned mischievously. “He won’t be bothering me again. Fridgeir trounced him quite thoroughly.”
Saibh sighed heavily and offered her sister a wane smile.
Eireann set her hand firmly on her sister’s shoulder. “But, sister, you must not run off like that again! You could get hurt. Close to me or these men, you’re safe. Even if they frighten you. But out here you aren’t! Promise you won’t hide again.”
Saibh refused to look at her. She sighed. The girl wouldn’t promise if she didn’t think she could hold to it.
“If you get scared, find me. Or Fridgeir. Please!”
Saibh nodded but still refused to look up. Eireann got the feeling something more had happened. She glanced up to see Eirik give her a subtle shake of his head and a hard stare. He wanted her to leave it alone.
Eireann spoke gently to her sister. “It’s all right, little flower. You stay with Eirik tonight. Yes?” The girl nodded slowly and let Eirik take her hand to guide her back to the hall.
Fridgeir caressed his hand down Eireann’s back and firmly ushered her after them. The head woman motioned them toward an alcove nearest the door. Fridgeir smiled his thanks and all but shoved her inside. Though he didn’t show it, Eireann suspected Djuri's taunts angered him more than he’d admit.
* * * *
Leif leaned close offering his brother a beer. “Think someone tried to steal the girl?”
“Without proof, it’d be trouble with Nokki we don’t need. He’s not of the Northlands anymore,” Eirik returned softly. “I suspect the man behind it already paid for it. But keep an eye out.”
Leif snorted softly and returned to his seat on the bench.
Eirik settled himself to drink as if nothing important had happened. His cousins spread themselves around the table, seemingly at random. But Eirik knew they’d taken defensive positions, even if they too seemed relaxed and simply enjoying a beer.
* * * *
Fridgeir seemed to tower over her. The very male smell of his sweat excited her even as the thought of him pressed tight to her made her nervous. Her gaze seemed drawn to the bulge showing under his pants. Anger rose to chase the fear away. She hated being treated like a thing to win in a game of dice! Although she had to admit it made her feel good to know men would actually fight over her. Hmm, watching Fridgeir fighting shirtless in the torchlight, that I could get used to. If only it were my choice in the end…
She kept her voice low—the curtain provided visual privacy but little else. “I assume you want to prove your claim again?”
He softly stroked her cheek, making time to let go his anger. “Yes. Tradition demands the winner claim his prize.” He slowly pulled one of her braids around and started undoing it.