To Serve and Submit

by Susan Wright

  Eventually, I dragged him down to the ground and straddled him as Gudren liked. Only now I could make it last, having watched Alga perform her magic. My hips rocked slightly as his panting grew faster, while my nails dug into his chest and arms, peeling his clothing away. The sharp scratching blunted his need to spend, allowing him to plateau and rise again.

  Even Helanas would have been proud of me. I pleased Niall knowing my life depended on it. After he spewed into me with cries of delight, I barely let him drift away before rousing him again. As he thrashed wildly beneath me, I knew I had succeeded.

  Within a few dozen heartbeats, Niall was snoring with me held tightly under his arm. I waited, forcing my tension to ease, knowing that a warrior such as Niall would be quick to rise from sleep. He had to be lured into deep dreams by the olfs before I could make my move. It felt like eternity, but an olf finally arrived to help me and began expertly spinning out Niall’s nocturnal fancies.

  I concentrated on the tether. I couldn’t risk taking his knife to cut it, so I painstakingly undid the knots that held me. I eased carefully away from him, then shifted from under his arm a tiny bit at a time to keep from waking him. Finally he snorted and rolled over, releasing me.

  I squatted there, waiting to be sure he was sound asleep. The olf continued to wallow in his dream. My skirt was bunched underneath Niall, so I untied the waist to slide out of it. Birgir had ripped off my apron earlier. My chemise was short, covering me less than my slave tunics used to. But modesty was the least of my concerns.

  I listened at the door, but there were no sounds in the hallway. I couldn’t move the heavy table without waking Niall, but I could climb the wall easily enough. I would have to watch out for Birgir’s men visiting the privy or cavorting with a kitchen maid.

  Then another olf appeared. It was nothing more than a shimmering blob that whispered in my ear, “Without Silveta, we are lost.”

  That plaintive plea was enough to stop me in my flight. The olf ’s thoughts mingled with my own. There was a terrible evil infesting Birgir, and it had grown more powerful since he had killed Ejegod. The strong pillar of the family’s rule had toppled with the chieftain’s death. The evil in Birgir was spreading even now, taking over the estate. Soon it would lap over Tillfallvik, then extend through Markland, destroying my homeland. Birgir would bring darkness to my people in the same way Helanas had blighted Vidaris.

  The olfs had chosen Silveta as their champion. They had such freedom themselves, they could little understand the constraints on ours. They knew only that she longed to quit the solar but must have someone’s help to do it. How, would be up to me.

  I tugged on the shelves holding the cheese rounds to find they were bolted to the wall. Stepping from one shelf to the other, I carefully climbed up to the top. The next storeroom over held sacks of grain and bins of beans and vegetables. From the top of the wall I could see the crossbeams that held up the roof. I pulled myself up and straddled the beam, glad I wasn’t wearing my entangling skirts.

  Delighted, the olfs darted ahead of me, lighting the easiest way along the rafters of the storerooms. Some were enclosed to secure their contents, with boards fastened over the top, forming storage platforms that were piled with boxes of goods.

  The old building was very dirty, and soon I was covered in soot and worse. I passed over the main kitchen, but no one tended the banked fire. All the women had fled. There had been loud shouts and screams as I pleasured Niall, but I had shut my ears and tried not to think about what was happening to my fellow servants.

  I shimmied carefully across the beams, pausing to listen before I swung out and around the slanted posts that supported the low-pitched ceiling.

  I was afraid I would have to descend in order to enter the fire hall, but narrow triangles of wood led to the sides of the loft. I climbed up and peered into the gloom that gathered in the hall. I clung to the slanted post with my knees, trying to ignore the splinters that dug into me. I didn’t dare go out onto the landing of the loft where Birgir’s men might see me. Instead, I climbed higher into the peaked roof of the hall. My thighs ached from clutching the beam so tightly.

  When I topped the wall around the solar, there was devastation within. Ejegod’s chamber had been ransacked, first by the chieftain’s bondi gathering goods that would go with him into the Otherworld, then by Birgir examining all that was left.

  Silveta lay on the wide bed clutching her torn clothing about her. Mercifully Birgir was gone, perhaps fearing that Silveta would try to kill him if he slept. She was crying hopelessly. The olfs watched her dejectedly.

  I swung over to climb down the wall, using the tiny chinks and uneven boards to get purchase. Silveta didn’t hear me until I landed on the floor of the loft. Her head went up sharply. Her cheek bore a bright red mark, and her mouth had been scratched raw. I put my hand to my own lips, feeling how Birgir had scraped the skin from me with his beard when he raped me.

  “ ’Tis only me, freya,” I whispered. “Do not be afraid.”

  “You traitor!” Her hands clenched in anger as she slid painfully out of bed. “You’ve done this to me! Helped kill my husband and my bondi. Brought that butcher’s son down on me—”

  I interrupted her raving. “Freya, I’ve come to rescue you. Please don’t let them hear you.”

  “Rescue me?” she demanded, albeit in a lower voice. “What can you do?”

  “I was able to get in,” I pointed out. “The olfs showed me how. And I can get back out with you.”

  She finally realized that I had indeed snuck into her cell. “How? Show me how!”

  I checked her torn underskirt. The overdress was gone completely. “You’ll need to take that off or it will get caught between your legs.”

  Looking at my own lean, bare legs, Silveta grimaced. But her hands went to the waist, untying the band. That left only her chemise. Her braids were hanging loose, so I rummaged among the furs on the bed to find the pins, fastening them tight to her head along with the tangle of amber beads. I could see the shadow of fine blond hair at her groin whenever she moved.

  “This way.” I showed her where I put my toes and my fingers. She shook her head in disbelief. “ ’Tis not hard,” I whispered insistently.

  I climbed up, and then quietly guided her as she scaled the wall. Once her toes slipped out of a crack, making her squeal. She froze, expecting the door to crash open. But the guards suspected nothing. The olfs began to prance with glee when she reached the top.

  Silveta was almost too afraid to straddle the slanted beam that went down into the darkness. But I went first and stayed an arm’s length below to support her as she swung out. She kept her lips pressed together firmly to keep from making another sound. The landing was just on the other side of the wall.

  Taking it very slowly, as I whispered advice every step of the way, we withdrew back along the beams into the storage rooms. I climbed down into the scullery, avoiding the cheese room where the olfs told me Niall still lay sleeping. As soon as he awoke, he would raise the alarm.

  The entire estate seemed to be asleep, including the hounds. It felt very late. I wondered how long I had held Niall in thrall, and hoped it would keep him snoring far into the morning.

  Slipping out the side door of the scullery, Silveta and I started down the path. The olfs led us away from the main gate where Ejegod’s bondi must have taken a stand. I kept expecting Birgir to rise up in front of us brandishing his ax, still shining red from Ejegod’s blood. We waded into the deep grass of the meadow where we had gathered the rushes yesterday. Though it was dark after the moonset, I remembered what it had looked like under the sun, as the grasses bent in the breeze and clouds scudded across the deep blue sky. One day could make such a world of difference.

  Then we had only the palisade to surmount to reach freedom. It was not very high, reaching barely to my chin. “This way,” I told Silveta, and we boosted ourselves over.

  Twelve

  Shouts went up as Silveta and I crested
the top of the palisade. Silveta slipped getting down. It looked to me as if the olfs supported her, letting her sink gently to her feet. I grabbed her hand and tore through the bushes into the scattering of trees on the hillside.

  Silveta gasped from the unaccustomed exertion. I was ready to flee, but she stopped as she bent over to catch her breath.

  “They’re coming,” I insisted, trying to see along the palisade toward the gate at the rear.

  “One . . . moment,” Silveta wheezed.

  “There’s no time.” I reached out with my senses and wasn’t surprised to find a handful of olfs nearby. Some had followed us from the fire hall. When they saw my need, they glowed softly so I was no longer in darkness. Silveta held her hand out blindly, as if she couldn’t see a thing.

  “Relax,” I urged under my breath. “Sink into yourself. Reach out . . . then you’ll be able to see.”

  She gave me a look as if I had gone dotty, but I was spared her retort as she struggled along beside me. I guided her over fallen logs and through the sparse woods, practically dragging her along. I could have darted over the rough ground like a frightened deer, but she stumbled as branches scraped her legs and her bare feet twisted on the rocks.

  I started describing what lay ahead so Silveta could more easily maneuver. She did better after that, but protested at my uncanny vision. “’Tis pitch-black! How can you see?”

  “The olfs show me.” I headed uphill, knowing the men would be naturally more inclined to go downward. Likely they thought we were servants escaping from the estate and wouldn’t put too much effort into chasing us.

  Silveta didn’t complain, though her breathing was harsh and uneven. We crossed a barren ridge, then descended through the thick scrub and briers. I tore heedlessly—the thorns were nothing next to my fear of Birgir.

  Near the bottom of the ravine was a stream. Silveta fell down to her knees, scooping up water to drink. I knelt nearby, also slaking my thirst. The number of olfs had increased. They were very happy, not realizing that we could be recaptured by Birgir’s bondi at any time. Olfs were creatures of the moment, so our escape was enough to please them.

  “I can’t . . . believe . . .” Silveta finally stammered.

  I waited, but she didn’t finish. “That we got away?”

  “Everything!” She glared at me, reminding me with one look that I had set off this terrible chain of events. “Why didn’t you kill Birgir, you idiot!”

  I let out my breath in a rush. Could I have killed Birgir? Yes, I could have beat him on the head with the cask, splitting his skull open. “I don’t think I could,” I breathed. Just the thought of doing it nauseated me, yet I wondered if I should have tried. The olfs started to pull away from me as I considered it, so I pushed the repulsive image from my mind.

  Silveta angrily turned away. “I must get to Tillfallvik. There are loyal men there who can help me.”

  “We can go down this ravine. It will take us to the bay.”

  “How can you be sure? It feels like we’re going in circles.”

  I shook my head though she couldn’t see me. “The town is that way. I can smell it.”

  “Of course you can.” Silveta grimly got to her feet. “Let’s go. We haven’t much time.”

  When we reached the outskirts of Tillfallvik, it was still dark, but I could feel sunrise was near. Silveta futilely tried dabbing at the blood on her scratched-up legs. She was miserable wearing nothing but her short chemise, but only the animals saw us slink through the muddy lanes.

  We arrived at a snug wooden home and, with a knock on the door, we were quickly drawn into a kitchen lit by the coals in the hearth. A gnarled old man spoke with Silveta while two women sobbed on a bench. They were so overcome that they barely spared a glance at our scanty clothes.

  “My son was killed in the fighting. His body is still on the estate.” The old man spat on the dirt floor in fury. “It’s said that Birgir holds you hostage and that he will marry you in the morn.”

  “I will never wed Birgir Barfoot,” Silveta swore. “He cannot become chieftain.”

  “There’s plenty who agree with you.” With a sour glance at the two mourning women, the old man said, “You’ll need to go to Torgils’ house. They’ve gathered there.”

  Silveta didn’t like it, but we had another dash through town as the old man took us along the narrow alleyways down to a house near the waterfront.

  Torgils’ longhouse was large and filled with men lounging and sleeping in various positions on the ledges along the walls. Some of those still awake were heatedly discussing their plans for the morrow. The olfs followed us right inside. They hovered near the sod ceiling, one drifting down to tease the baby that lay in a basket by the fire. A woman was hunched over the hearth in the center of the hall, trying to warm herself.

  Silveta was greeted with glad cries, and her embarrassment was banished when the woman quickly fetched her a skirt to wear. I squatted down near the baby, watching it bat its hands through the olf. Young children always liked to do that.

  “So this is the Vidaris lass,” Torgils declared. “We heard she tried to kill Birgir at your behest.”

  I was taken aback when all the folk turned to stare at me.

  “Not at my behest, though I wish she had killed him,” Silveta grumbled. “Then we would not be faced with this mess. Does Birgir hold the estate?”

  “Yes, and we have the waterfront.” Torgils sat on the table made of rough-hewn planks. “Boats have been sent to summon the magnates who are loyal to Ejegod. Birgir’s warriors will hear of what happened and return. The merchants have already started boarding up their storerooms, expecting looting and fighting.”

  “I can’t stay here,” Silveta decided.

  “If Birgir marries you, then his claim will be hard to dispute.”

  “I seek blood vengeance against Birgir Barfoot,” Silveta declared. “I must get to my father in Hop. He can convince the overlord to help me.”

  “We need good fighting men to wrest Birgir from your estate. A dead man can’t claim the chieftaincy. And what about her?” Torgils asked, gesturing to me.

  Silveta considered me. “Birgir would tear her from limb to limb if she’s discovered. So I suppose I must bring her. Can you get her some clothes as well?”

  Torgils’ wife reluctantly went to fetch a homespun gray skirt. It was a narrow sheath of substandard weave, with a ragged hem. I put it on, thanking her but getting nothing in return. She picked up the fat baby and put him to her breast, sitting down on the little stool near the fire.

  I felt as if I were a harbinger of evil. Silveta wanted nothing to do with me. Yet I trailed in the wake of her ragged retinue as we trooped down to the docks. The sky was still mercifully dark.

  Torgils pointed to a longship anchored in the bay. “You can take that one. I’ll send for oarsmen, though they’ll be boys too young to fight. We need every man we have to keep Birgir from taking the waterfront.”

  Silveta went under a lean-to near the dock to wait. The waves slapped against the side of a rowboat moored nearby, ready to ferry us out to the longship. Two of the men gathered casks of water and supplies for our trip.

  Silveta anxiously watched as the sky brightened with the coming dawn. “Surely Birgir knows I am gone by now. We must leave.”

  “Perhaps they think we’re in the hills,” I suggested.

  Silveta frowned but refused to speak to me. Rather than upset her further, I backed out of the lean-to and sat down against the slanted side. The grass was wet with dew, but that didn’t bother me. I was exhausted, having not slept all night.

  As I drowsed in the chill air, I heard a voice calling my name. “Marja . . . Marja . . .”

  At first I thought it was my da summoning me from the fens as he had done since I was a little girl. But it grew more insistent, and I opened my eyes.

  “Marja!” It was my master’s voice.

  “Lexander,” I breathed.

  It couldn’t be true, but I got to my
feet, looking wildly around. There were a dozen men guarding the waterfront, pacing back and forth along the docks and staring at the crests of the inland hills. A man stood in the doorway of a nearby shed, beckoning to me. He wore rough brown pants and a jacket belted with common leather and a brass buckle. His cap went down around his ears and was slightly pointed.

  But I knew it was Lexander by the way he moved. I ran straight into his arms.

  “Marja, where have you been?” He pulled me back into the shed, where no one could see us.

  “Is it really you?” I exclaimed, even as he clasped me close to him. His sublime scent engulfed me, and every plane and curve of his body felt so right under my hands. “You came for me!”

  “I’ve waited for you for nearly a moon,” he said, with his face pressing into my hair. “I thought I had killed you, sending you off on your own. But you made it here, as I knew you would.”

  I didn’t care about anything at that moment, not the mistakes I had made nor the terror I had felt. None of that mattered now that I was in Lexander’s arms.

  “I thought I knew how much I loved you,” he murmured. “But it’s much stronger than I imagined. I was desperate to find you again. I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t stop hoping I would hold you again.”

  Since leaving Vidaris, I had wondered sometimes if I had dreamed his outpouring of devotion. Now I knew I hadn’t. “You can’t ever send me away again,” I pleaded.

  “Never.”

  He began kissing my face as if treasuring every part of me—eyes, cheeks, brow, lips . . . I forgot where we were and lost myself in the wonder of his touch.

  There was a hitch in his voice as he repeated my name. “Marja.” His hands held my face like a precious gift.

  Even this closeness was not enough. Impulsively I opened myself up to him, diving into the flow of the spirits to reach out to him. I had never thought to reveal myself in that way to him. But now a barrier inside of me was gone. I could feel as he felt—overwhelmed by passion and relief that we had found each other. I knew without words that he had lurked about the estate and watched for my arrival on the waterfront. But I had landed unseen in the midst of the midsummer guests, concealed within Gudren’s retinue. Afterwards, I had hidden myself too well while avoiding Birgir and his men.