Passion: His Savage Embrace

by Bobbi Smith

  “And you are certain he was killed?”

  “His shield and sword were found, and the Vikings in retreat took no dead with them.”

  “This is truly a feat of great acclaim. Send my compliments to your lord.”

  “You can tell him yourself.”

  “Indeed, I will. I will spread the word of his brave victory from village to town.”

  Sir Roland was pleased, and he knew his lord would be, too. “We do have one trophy of the battle.”

  “Oh?”

  “We found one seriously wounded Viking who was left for dead on the battlefield.”

  “Is he still alive?” The trader’s eyes glowed at the prospect. Ransoming captives was a very gainful trade, and he was not above making a tidy profit if he could convince Lord Alfrick to let him do it.

  “So far he has survived, although Sir Edmund would like to see him dead for all the misery he has caused. Come, take a look at our prize.”

  Sir Roland led the trader into the Great Hall and over to where Brage was chained. Several of the dogs growled as they approached. Sir Roland kicked at them, and they crawled away. He was surprised when the captive did not look up or pay attention to them. In fact, the Viking seemed to be asleep, for his head was hanging down on his chest.

  “Here he is. I do not know what plans Lord Alfrick has for him, but we will keep him here until it has been decided.”

  When the hounds had cleared away, Hereld approached. As he saw the dark-haired prisoner for the first time, he went still. “You claim this one is a Viking? One of the Black Hawk’s men?”

  “Yes. He said his name was Brage. That was all we got out of him.” Sir Roland booted Brage roughly in the thigh. “Wake up, Norseman. You have a visitor.”

  Hereld watched as the captive slowly raised his head. When he found himself staring into a pair of blue eyes he had seen before, he could not believe his luck. The Black Hawk himself was their prisoner! Excitement coursed through him. These Saxon fools had no idea of the treasure they held.

  At that moment, someone across the hall called out to Sir Roland, and he went to see what the man wanted.

  Hereld stood alone, staring down at Brage, a smile of pure delight on his face. “This is wonderful!” he mused out loud. “Anslak will pay a fortune to have his son returned. I will be wealthy beyond my wildest dreams . . .”

  Brage wondered what the two men wanted other than just to torment him. Brage thought he heard the wiry little man speak his father’s name when he started to follow after Sir Roland. He wanted to call out to the man, to find out what he knew about his father, but for some reason he could not think of what to say. He felt awkward and confused. His one coherent thought was that this man with the shifty dark eyes knew who he was, and he was heading off to tell Lord Alfrick . . .

  “Wait . . .” Brage finally managed in a harsh rasp.

  Hereld heard him speak and turned to look at him. “Be patient, my friend. I will have you out of here in no time!” He did not understand.

  “You are going to make me very rich. All I have to do is talk Lord Alfrick into giving you to me and then I’ll make myself a tidy profit when I sell you back to your father. Do not go anywhere,” he said with an almost evil chuckle. “I will return shortly.” He hurried away, laughing in delight at the good fortune that had been handed to him. Now if he could only convince Lord Alfrick to release the prisoner to him . . .

  Hereld sought out Sir Roland and found him with several of the other men. He requested to meet with Lord Alfrick, and Sir Roland left to seek the lord’s permission.

  Hereld was forced to wait the better part of an hour. The trader was finally taken to a small chamber off the main hall. Lord Alfrick was there with Sir Edmund.

  “You wished to speak with me,” Lord Alfrick said in greeting.

  “Yes, my lord. I just arrived at the tower today and have heard of your great battle against the Black Hawk. You are truly a magnificent lord to have defeated the hated Viking so decisively.”

  “My people fought valiantly. It was not an easy fight, but it had to be won to preserve our land.”

  “Indeed, my lord. You have proven your mastery of strategy. I will tell everyone of your marvelous deed.”

  Lord Alfrick was pleased with this, for he knew Hereld was a well-traveled merchant and trader who knew many people. It would be a good thing for him to have a reputation as a fearless leader. Respect for his prowess in battle might prevent others from attacking them. “That is good. Now what is it you want of me, Hereld?”

  “I want nothing, my lord, except to buy something I hope you are willing to sell.”

  Alfrick looked puzzled. “I do not know of what you speak.”

  “You have something I think I can sell elsewhere, my lord, and I would bargain with you for it.”

  “And what is it that I have that so interests you?”

  “Your Viking captive, my lord. Sir Roland has told me that you have no use for the man. I, however, would be willing to pay you for him.”

  “What use could a Norse prisoner be to you?”

  “I know many who would buy him from me for a goodly sum. He is worth much at the market. Usually, it is the Viking selling slaves. This time it would be me, selling a Viking.”

  “How much is he worth to you?”

  Hereld quoted him a figure that was not outlandishly high, but certainly substantial. “Well, my lord?” he pressed eagerly. “Do we strike a bargain?”

  Edmund was looking on, saying nothing at first. He grew slowly angry as he listened to the man and spoke up. He did not want to see the warrior sold away. He wanted to see him dead. “I think perhaps our good merchant should stick to dealing in goods.”

  The trader turned to him. “But, Sir Edmund, does seeing him dead mean more to you than making money? I am offering you a good price for him.”

  “Why do you think that he would bring such a good price?”

  “He sailed with the Black Hawk. Many would pay to have him.”

  Lord Alfrick heard the greed in the voice and wondered at it. There was some money to be made here, but certainly not enough to make this man so excited. “The Viking attacked our land and murdered our people. I think we will just leave things as they are. It pleases me to keep this one.” He saw the flash of hungry desperation in the man’s eyes and knew his intuition had been right. There was more to this than the man was revealing.

  “My lord! I will give you more for him. Name a price and I will try to meet it.”

  Lord Alfrick’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as he regarded the overeager little man. “Tell me, Hereld. Why is this particular one so important to you?”

  Hereld realized he had revealed too much. “It is not he who is important, my lord. I just saw the chance to make some money easily, that is all.”

  Sir Edmund saw his nervousness, and asked “Hereld is there truly that much to be made on a mere warrior? Or is there more to this than you have told us?”

  “No . . . No, there is not more.” He tried to hide his sudden feeling of unease at being caught in a conniving scheme. “If you have no wish to sell him to me, so be it. I will stick with my merchant goods and leave slave trading to others.”

  Hereld started to back away from the room. His mind was racing, trying to come up with another plan to make money off the Black Hawk’s misfortune. He was certain Anslak would pay a high price to learn that his son was alive and being kept prisoner here. All he had to do was travel to the Viking leader and deliver the news.

  Already mentally preparing to set sail northward, Hereld kept backing away from Lord Alfrick and Sir Edmund. He had just about reached the door when he came up against the solid barrier of Sir Thomas standing in his way.

  “Sir Thomas,” Sir Edmund called out. “Bring our friend back to us, please. I believe he knows more about our Viking than he is telling us. Something seems amiss.”

  The big man ushered him forward to face Lord Alfrick and Sir Edmund once more.

  �
�Is this true, Hereld? Do you know more than you are telling my lord?” Sir Thomas demanded. He rested a heavy hand on Hereld’s shoulder. “Was there something more you had to tell Lord Alfrick?”

  Hereld glanced up at Alfrick’s huge protector. He saw the steel in his expression and knew his own greed had given him away. Thinking quickly, he decided to tell the truth—for now. Later, he would see what else he could devise.

  “More, Sir Thomas?” Hereld tried to sound innocent.

  “More, Hereld.” Sir Thomas’s voice was a deep, threatening boom as he put his other hand on the dagger he wore at his waist.

  “There might have been one other small thing I neglected to mention . . .”

  “And what is that one other small thing, trader?” Lord Alfrick asked imperiously.

  “Your prisoner, my lord. He is worth much gold to the Vikings.”

  “So you have said. I ask you once more, why is he so valuable to you?”

  Hereld realized there was no way out of his situation; he must speak the truth. “The man you hold, called Brage, is also known by another name . . .”

  “Yes?” Sir Edmund was impatient.

  “He is the Black Hawk.”

  Six

  A stunned silence gripped the three Saxons as they stared at the trader.

  “The Viking leader?” Sir Edmund said, smiling broadly, his eyes aglow with a renewed fervor. “All the more reason to kill him and be done with it!”

  Lord Alfrick was incredulous. “You say we have the Black Hawk?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “And you know this for certain?”

  “I saw him at the market a year or so ago, and I have never forgotten him. His dark hair and beard set him apart from the others, and those eyes . . .” He shuddered as he remembered the barely leashed power and cold fury he had seen in the other man’s gaze. “It is the Black Hawk, my lord. There is no mistake.”

  Lord Alfrick smiled cynically. “And you were going to sell him into slavery?”

  “I was going to sell him, my lord . . .”

  “To his people?”

  “I am a businessman, my lord,” Hereld said. “They would certainly pay the highest price for him . . .” He let the sentence fade.

  Lord Alfrick was thoughtful for a moment. The trader’s greed had stirred an interest of his own. “I think there may be a way here to use our prisoner to our own advantage. I had thought of him as a mere trophy, but now I see he is much more.”

  “What are you planning, Father?” Edmund asked. He was thrilled that they had captured the Black Hawk for, once again, it proved just how good his plan had been.

  Ever thinking of ways to make a profit, Hereld spoke up. “If I may be so bold as to offer my services, Lord Alfrick, I would be more than willing to help if you want to arrange a trade of some kind with Anslak. I have access to his village and could deliver any messages you would like to send.”

  “For a price, of course,” Alfrick said.

  Hereld bowed low. “My lord, I make my very living by my wits. My ability to barter is my best talent.”

  “Very well. Leave us for now, but wait in the Great Hall.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Lord Alfrick waited until the man had left the room.

  “It would seem we have been given a rare opportunity, Father,” Sir Edmund began.

  “What would you do, my son?”

  “I know you are always searching for ways to increase our treasure, and this man is worth much gold to his people.”

  “Do you mean you would ransom him back?”

  “I would,” Sir Edmund answered, “but I would make certain that he never had the chance to attack our land again. I would claim the gold and then destroy the prize.”

  “There would be war.”

  “We would be ready, just as we were yesterday.”

  Lord Alfrick looked to Sir Thomas. “And you, Sir Thomas? What do you think?”

  “As Sir Edmund says, we were prepared for the Black Hawk’s invasion and we defeated him.” He looked at the younger man and saw the conniving weakness in him. With each passing day, his opinion of Edmund sank lower and lower. Edmund was no man of honor or character.

  “I hear a note of hesitation in your voice,” Alfrick said. “What is it that troubles you?”

  “Deception is cowardly. Would you give your word that an exchange was to take place, and then kill those who had come in good faith to complete the bargain? Your reputation as a courageous leader and just lord would suffer for it.”

  Alfrick had been momentarily blinded by the thought of defeating the Vikings again, but Sir Thomas’s words blunted his enthusiasm for an ambush.

  “What shall we do about Hereld, my lord?” Sir Thomas asked.

  “He has offered to help us in this, and we shall accept. Bring him to me.”

  Within moments, Hereld was once again before Lord Alfrick. “Travel to Anslak and tell the Viking leader that I hold his son,” the trader was instructed. “Tell him I will return the Black Hawk to him for five hundred pounds of gold and their pledge to never raid our land again.”

  “Five hundred pounds of gold, my lord?” Hereld’s eyes widened in shock at the high amount.

  “That is my price if he wants his son back.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “We will await word from you.”

  “See to it that no harm comes to your captive while I am gone. It would not be good to tell his father that he lives, only to have Anslak find him dead when he comes to pay the ransom. Anslak is not a forgiving man.”

  “Anslak will see his son alive again,” Lord Alfrick said. “He is also a doubting man, my lord. Is there some proof I can take with me to show him that I speak the truth?”

  “I will see that you are given one of his garments to take along. That should be proof enough for the Viking.”

  “That is good. And what of my reward, my lord?” he asked boldly.

  “I will pay you handsomely for your effort, once the exchange has been made.”

  “Then I travel north to do your bidding as soon as you have given me the garment, my lord.” Hereld’s eyes were gleaming with avarice as he hurried away.

  “How long do you suppose it will be before he returns?” Sir Edmund asked, anger dripping from his words.

  “A fortnight, I am sure. We have time to prepare,” Sir Thomas said.

  Lord Alfrick was pleased. “Now, let us pay our ‘guest’ a visit. I would speak to the fearless Black Hawk.” He thought back over the previous conversation he had had with the prisoner. “Let me see . . . How did he answer me when I asked him if the Black Hawk had been slain?”

  “I believe he said the Black Hawk was felled,” Sir Thomas reminded him.

  “Clever man, this one. We will be wise to watch him carefully.”

  Edmund did not join in their discussion, but silently seethed at being so overruled. Had he not devised the plan that had won the battle? Why would his father and Sir Thomas not listen to him and agree to ambush the Vikings? It would be no great loss if all Norsemen were wiped from the face of the earth. He began to plot a strategy of his own. His father might voice an objection now, but when the time came, he would be proud of his daring.

  Brage had been watching for the little man, waiting for him to return. He did not know what the stranger planned to do to get him released, but he had presented Brage’s first ray of hope.

  For a while after the man had left him, Brage’s spirits had soared. As time passed, though, and there had been no sign of him returning, his despair returned. He began to wonder if he had imagined the whole thing. Certainly it seemed possible. The pain from his wounds was near to maddening, and he was finding it more and more difficult to think straight.

  Brage felt hot. He kept splashing water from the bucket on his face and neck, but each movement brought more agony, and after a while he ceased. The water seemed to have little lasting cooling effect anyway.

  Brage suddenly saw some men comi
ng toward him from across the Great Hall. His vision was hazy, and he struggled to focus on them, thinking it might be the stranger returning to free him. As they loomed closer, though, he saw that it was Lord Alfrick, Sir Edmund, and Sir Thomas. The one who had promised him freedom was nowhere to be seen.

  “Well, well, well. What have we here?” Lord Alfrick gloated as he stood over his prisoner. “Could it be the bravest of all the Viking raiders?”

  “Yes, Father, it is, but from the looks of things, he will not be doing any more raiding.” Sir Edmund walked to the wall and tested the strength of the chains that held Brage. He smiled in approval when they would not budge.

  “Good, good.” Lord Alfrick’s words were harsh as he stood over his captive. “It pleases me to see you in bondage.”

  “It is important that you are pleased,” Brage said sarcastically. He struggled to rise, to face his enemy squarely. “Indeed it is, and I am very pleased today.”

  Brage was gritting his teeth against the pain as he fought to stand. He finally got to his feet, but his legs would barely support him. He stayed upright, but slumped back against the wall, exhausted from the effort. His head was spinning. He heard Lord Alfrick talking, but it seemed as if from a great distance.

  “I have recently learned that you are the Black Hawk himself, not just one of his warriors.”

  At the sound of his battle name, Brage lifted his head. He wondered vaguely how they had learned of his true identity. “It is as you say, I am the Black Hawk.”

  Lord Alfrick and Sir Edmund exchanged smiles as the trader’s story was confirmed. Sir Thomas watched his worthy adversary struggle to maintain his dignity before Lord Alfrick, and he felt a deep admiration for him. He doubted he would have been able to keep such fine control had he been caught in a similar situation.

  Brage did not show any emotion as he awaited Lord Alfrick’s pronouncement. He expected death—and in fact was almost ready to welcome it. The world seemed to be spinning around him and his knees were threatening to buckle. He held himself upright, though, determined not to collapse before them.

  Lord Alfrick had been studying him with interest. He saw how gray his features were, how glazed his eyes. He frowned. “Sir Thomas, take our prisoner to the tower room.”