To Serve and Submit

by Susan Wright

  I could feel his blood running hot, burning with the need to join with me. He lifted me to the top of a barrel of whale oil, and I helped to pull up my skirt with an eager sound of assent. Olfs appeared and twirled around us in the small space. They were in a frenzy at the way I reached out to the otherworldly currents while I shared my love with Lexander. It seemed miraculous that no one else saw their explosion of light and glistening motion inside the shed.

  Lexander wrapped my legs around his hips, holding me with a firm hand under each thigh. I steadied against him, lowering myself as he penetrated me. My head arched back as I let out a cry, grasping him around the neck. The tension between us, balancing each other while we joined together, went on forever. I opened myself up until I could feel his very heart beating. The olfs whirled in the sparks we radiated.

  He submerged himself inside of me, filling me, feeling each wave of our ecstasy together. His emotions, then mine, echoed between us. He went to his knees, taking me with him.

  I collapsed, lost within him and the swirling maelstrom we had created. Our bodies had merged and I was lit on fire, blazing . . .

  “Marja!” Silveta called from outside the shed. “We’re leaving now.”

  I struggled to lift my head as she repeated her call. She sounded impatient, but I could also hear her fear. There were more voices outside the shed. That brought me to my senses.

  “ ’Tis Silveta,” I gasped. “Birgir is after us. He discovered me posing as her maid.”

  “Silveta kept you on the estate?” he demanded. “Is she mad?”

  “We were desperate,” I explained. “Birgir killed Ejegod when he discovered me.”

  Lexander untangled himself, helping me to my feet. He was seriously troubled, but I smiled with complete love into his face, giddy from our joining. I was as glowing and dewy as a new bloomed flower. I had escaped Birgir and was with Lexander now. Surely the worst was over.

  I had only to stay at Lexander’s side, overcome by the fact that he was here and that he loved me so very much, as he dealt with Silveta and Torgils. Lexander agreed to take charge of the motley crew of boys sailing Silveta to Hop.

  I was eager to quit Tillfallvik and was the first to board the small boat with Silveta. Her disdain for me was clear, but she admitted to Lexander, “Marja helped me escape from the estate. I would never have found my way through the hills without her.”

  His hand caressed my hair. “Yes, she is a wonder at finding her way.”

  My heart was singing, but I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the olfs, left melancholy on the shore. They wanted Silveta to be safe, but they felt as if they were being abandoned.

  The boys Torgils had rounded up for us could barely control the boat as we rowed through the bay. The water was much darker than the sky, which finally began to brighten. Thankfully the summer waves were not high, and Lexander went among the boys, helping them row. He set course with the rudder, then gave it to me to hold. Silveta stared behind us, watching for Birgir’s men to break through the line of townsfolk protecting the waterfront and skillfully man a boat to come after us. But we left the bay and threaded through the small islands at the mouth.

  Striking out into open water, the shore disappeared behind with no sail following us. Soon after, her face lined with weariness, Silveta retreated to the bow to lie down on a rough pallet.

  Then I finally remembered the sea spirits. I relaxed, letting my fingers sense the currents in the water through the rudder. I conveyed my need through my story, starting when the Sigurdssons had brought me to Tillfallvik for the midsummer celebration. The sea spirits drank in my long and convoluted tale, giving me encouragement to remember every detail.

  “The wind is rising!” Lexander called. “Pull up the sail, lads!”

  My hair blew around my face as I hung on the tiller, showing the spirits how I had run from Birgir and his men, taking Silveta with me. They, unlike the olfs, had little concern with Silveta and her battle to save our land. But they appreciated our valiant struggle.

  Lexander eventually came to sit beside me, taking the tiller from my hand to steer himself. I was jolted out of my communion with the spirits. The longship was scudding along briskly, with the boys resting, curled up on their benches. Our blue-green sail, much like the sea itself, bellied out full of wind. It had taken Gudren a full day to reach Tillfallvik from Djarney. It would take twice that for us to reach Hop.

  “How long have you been with Silveta?” Lexander asked me.

  “Since the midsummer celebration.”

  His expression was concerned. “Why did it take so long to reach Tillfallvik, Marja?” When I looked away, his hand grasped mine. “What happened to you? I must know.”

  “The coins you gave me were stolen by an oarsman in Brianda. After that I struggled mightily.”

  “Were you hurt?” He didn’t realize his grip was too tight on my hand, revealing his torment.

  I thought of the sailor in the alley, the one who had hit me until I was bruised in the face. “Yes. I was lucky to reach Tillfallvik. Silveta gave me protection, though she knew it was a risk.”

  “Silveta claims Birgir struck down her husband in a duel.”

  “ ’Twas a true betrayal,” I agreed. “The chieftain thought of Birgir as a son.”

  “Poor old man. Silveta intends to go straight to the overlord to claim his protection.”

  “And will you help her? As she helped me?”

  “I have some allies that may be useful, but that would alert Helanas that we were in Viinland. Silveta’s family has influence with the overlord, and likely she will do well for herself without having to call on the name of Vidaris.”

  “Silveta says that Helanas is looking for you.”

  Lexander shrugged slightly. “I have until the return of the Stanbulin ship in the fall, when Helanas must report my absence to our superiors. Helanas would most likely try to force me to return to Vidaris before then. Their wrath will fall on her when they discover I have gone to ground.”

  I could feel there was so much more behind his words. “You’re in danger, are you not?”

  “Yes. And now that you are with me, you are also in grave peril.” He kept one arm on the tiller, maintaining our course. “I know you will not divulge what I have to say to anyone.”

  I nodded, staring into the flickering depths of his golden eyes. “Of a surety, I shall keep silent.”

  “Marja, the ship you saw takes the slaves from their training houses to Stanbulin. From there, your slave-mates are sent to live among my people on an island that few of your world ever see.”

  “My world?” I repeated in confusion. “Is it not yours as well?”

  “No. I am different than other men, as you may have sensed. My people came here a long time ago and we have lived among you, though we are not men. I have been at Vidaris for nearly two decades. Before that, I was in Veneto for two decades and before that it was the Orient.”

  So many years! A man with that many decades should be old, older even than Ejegod, who had been ancient indeed. Yet Lexander was still in his prime . . .

  Suddenly I understood. Lexander was a god. It explained so much that had eluded me—his strength, his fast reflexes, his uncannily smooth skin as golden as his eyes. And Helanas, with her perfect beauty and callous disregard for people, just like the tales of the Norogods my da often recounted.

  My mam had taught me that disaster strikes whenever folk consort with gods. They could pull you into the Otherworld without warning. I shifted away from Lexander, remembering how I had almost lost myself when we had joined together. What if Silveta had not called out, breaking our union? Would I have been transported to the Otherworld?

  The pain in his eyes at my reaction was terrible to see. But I feared him as I never had before.

  “Yes, I understand your fear,” he said sadly. “My people have used you most foully. I would swear never to hurt you, but your life is at risk being with me.”

  I believed him. The gods
had terrifying power. They could strike and kill with a look. Surely that was why the olfs had been so ecstatic during our passion—they could feel the Otherworld uniting with this one.

  “I don’t . . .” I started to say, but could not finish. I couldn’t reject my love for Lexander, but every instinct told me that it was dangerous for me to touch him.

  “I understand,” Lexander murmured. “It is much to absorb.”

  I shook my head, tears welling up in spite of myself. I had thought the obstacles between us had fallen, but now I knew my own barriers had protected me while I was in his training. I loved him and would follow him anywhere, yet I could not go to the Otherworld while I was alive. For the living, the Otherworld was a torment, a place where they watched their wasted existence play endlessly out, unable to touch others or feel anything. Only the dead or creatures such as the olfs or sprites who were created there could prosper in the Otherworld.

  “Go, Marja,” he ordered. “I would never force myself on you or make you submit as Helanas did. I saved you from that, and I will protect you.”

  I could hardly meet his eyes, I was so afraid of giving in to my longing for him. But my mam’s terrified expression flashed in my mind. She would walk through fire to fetch me home if she knew what I faced.

  I went to the prow to lie down next to Silveta. She murmured anxiously but did not awaken. The relief I had sought for so long had been ripped away from me again, and I was glad to see her despite her dislike of me. We curled up together to sleep.

  Thirteen

  I knew that I risked everything by loving Lexander. I had seen through his eyes and felt his every sensation as when we made love. I had almost lost myself in him. Surely that was why he had warned me. He didn’t want to harm me, but his very nature could be deadly to me.

  For so long whenever I had been afraid, I had imagined how Lexander would protect me when we were reunited. But that was a childish fancy. I had not been safe in Vidaris, where the evil infesting Helanas was always near. And my dreams of being taken away by the winged ship had been foolish, without regard for the ruthlessness of Lexander’s people. Now I couldn’t go to Lexander and hold him as I longed to. I couldn’t rely on him when he posed such a tempting danger himself. My conflicting desires chewed me up inside.

  When I awoke, Lexander was once more the master I had known in Vidaris—cool and reserved. And I returned to watching him, always watching. I understood now, why Lexander was the best of men with his superior confidence and understanding. Despite our dire circumstances, he was in absolute control. His otherworldly power gave us wings as our narrow boat skipped through the towering ocean waves. The boys did as he ordered without question. Even Silveta ate and drank at his command.

  By evening, Silveta no longer returned to the stern to watch for Birgir. Instead she hung on the prow, drenched in spray, staring ever forward as if willing us to go faster. In spite of her rough skirt and the dirty shawl tied over her head, her regal bearing was not diminished.

  As the sun lowered over the western horizon, Lexander sent one of the boys up the mast to look for a sail following us. The boy called down that there were none to be seen.

  Silveta let out an audible sigh of relief, but her eyes were haunted, as if she couldn’t truly believe she had escaped from Birgir.

  “We’ll arrive at the bastion by morning,” Lexander assured her.

  “It would take another half day to reach my family,” Silveta said, as if to herself.

  “You can’t risk it,” Lexander replied. “You must speak with the overlord first. Birgir will not ignore the most powerful man in the region. He’ll send his best men to plead his case.”

  Reluctantly, Silveta nodded agreement. Without saying a word or even looking at me, Lexander returned to the stern to hold the tiller.

  I settled in for the night, wondering who Birgir would send to the overlord. It was not likely to be Niall since he had been responsible for letting me escape. I shuddered to think what Birgir would do to him. Niall had no evil spirit dwelling within him, but he was selfish and did whatever suited him best. I was thankful for that, because his flaws had saved me from a terrible fate.

  In the first morning light, we reached the expansive Straumsey Bay, which was dotted with wooded islands. The sparkling water was light blue, indicating a mighty river must empty into the ocean here. The mass of trees along every shore revealed only glimpses of log houses on the waterfront. There were a great many sailing ships everywhere as fishermen worked the outgoing tide. High on the wind, I could smell ripening grain and fruit trees growing farther inland.

  One island stood out from the others because it had no blanket of trees, only bare stone cliffs. But as we drew closer, I realized what I had taken for natural rock were walls that enclosed the entire island. Narrow arched windows pierced the levels, and those with their shutters thrown back revealed dozens of diamond panes of glass.

  It was a fortress to withstand anyone who challenged the overlord of Viinland. There was only one place where we could dock, on the narrow hooked end of the island. As we sailed closer, I marveled at the slender towers marking the corners where lookouts sheltered.

  An official-looking man in a short cape met us on the dock. Lexander pled Silveta’s case, citing her jarl status as her right to see the overlord. The man gestured for two guards wearing broad short-swords. The guards refused to allow the boys off the boat, so they settled in to raid our meager stores while they waited.

  Lexander and Silveta started out with the guards. Neither of them asked me to come, but I went along anyway. We looked quite the humble group in our peasant garb.

  I had never felt more overwhelmed by a place. The bastion was entirely enclosed, a city fortress made of stone. There were colonnades of arches and covered walks, while the buildings shared common walls with a continuous line of windows rising three and four stories above our heads. Even the street was paved with flat stones fit together like puzzle pieces. Puddles pooled in the cracks, and shopkeepers were busy sweeping outside their doors.

  We slipped unseen through the narrow streets. At the other end, we were taken through a massive iron gate into the bastion proper. We went down long corridors and up stairs, then through an open courtyard lined with columns and round arches. I looked around in frank astonishment at the tapestries and carved furniture in the large chambers we passed. Every surface was paneled in wood, with parquet floors forming cunning patterns. I had never seen anything near as grand as this place.

  Children ran about everywhere among the servants and folk who gathered in the bastion for business or for pleasure. Guards were posted here and there, blocking doors and overlooking the enormous chambers. It felt like the Sigurdssons’ household, but on a much larger scale, large enough for a dozen families to live within.

  Inside one hall, folk milled near long tables as the morning meal was served. I was heartened to see that olfs gathered in droves for the pickings. They were cheerful and much more plentiful than on Ejegod’s estate. Truly, Birgir was a blight on my homeland.

  We were shown into a small antechamber where there were several benches and a window looking out on the sparkling blue sea. One of the guards stood with his back to the base of the archway, while the other retreated.

  “When will we see the overlord?” Silveta asked the guard.

  He made a noncommittal answer, glancing at Lexander, who settled onto a bench. Silveta twitched at her poor skirt and tried to smooth her hair. I went to help her, undoing the bedraggled braids and combing the golden strands with my fingers. I untwined the string of amber beads she had woven through her hair. They wound a dozen times around her throat. It was sad to see the vivid scratches near her mouth and the purpling bruise of her cheek where Birgir had hit her. I braided small strands of her hair away from her face, but had no time to do the rest before boots were heard through the open archway.

  Silveta handed me her shawl. “Put this over your head. Even in rags you look like a doxy from the st
reets.”

  I put the cloth over my head, tying down my unruly locks. The guard stiffened as several men returned. Silveta slowly stood up, as did Lexander.

  “Silveta, it is indeed you.” A ring of olfs floated around the burly man in the center, drawn like moths to a flame. He stood with his fists on his hips, as if he were more comfortable on the deck of a longship than on land. His mane of grizzled auburn hair swept back from his weathered face. Yet his garments were rich, with his cape lined in ermine and his shoes embroidered in silver thread.

  “Greetings from Markland, Overlord Jedvard,” Silveta replied, dipping down in a respectful curtsy.

  Jedvard took in her tattered clothing. “What is this, Silveta? What brings you to my home in this sad state?”

  “My husband was murdered most foul, Overlord, by Birgir Barfoot. Even my bondsmen were killed. I’ve come to ask for your help.”

  Jedvard drew back, his bright interest growing more serious. “Surely your own magnates must administer justice in your land, Silveta.”

  “The magnates support me, yet Birgir has taken my estate by force and now fights with the townsfolk of Tillfallvik. I must put down his insurrection so the magnates can gather in peace to choose their next chieftain.”

  Jedvard laced his fingers together, as if considering her plea.

  “With fifty men I can end this insurrection tomorrow,” Silveta insisted. “Birgir’s loyalists are scattered far and wide. Ejegod granted them estates so they would disperse. We little expected Birgir would kill Ejegod on his own hearth!”

  I held my breath at Jedvard’s silence. But the young man next to him couldn’t contain himself. He had been staring indignantly at the bruises on Silveta’s face. “I say it’s barbaric! Birgir was your father’s honored guest, wasn’t he? Artur just returned from your midsummer celebration and he told me there was unrest in Markland over this vikingr.”