The Pagan's Prize

by Miriam Minger

  "I'm surprised that Lord Rurik didn't think to provide you with a brush or comb for your hair," Ingigerd commented, arching a thin brow as she came closer. "I've always known him to be a considerate man, especially when it comes to beautiful women."

  "He did." Remembering his presents, Zora swatted some suds across the surface of the water.

  "Did what?"

  "Give me a brush."

  "Then you must not have used it very often. It's going to take Marta some doing to untangle all those snarls—"

  "I never used it. I threw the brush overboard, along with the clean clothes he bought for me."

  "I see."

  Zora screwed her eyes shut as another bucketful of water was poured over her head and she missed Ingigerd's speculative look. When she opened them, Marta was standing at the ready with a thick towel, and although Zora would have liked to linger in the bath—the warm water felt like heaven—she rose and stepped from the tub.

  Soon she was snug and dry, wrapped in a soft woolen robe and seated before the fire. As Marta began to comb her damp hair, to Zora's surprise, Ingigerd sat down opposite her.

  "My seamstresses are altering one of my tunics more to your size. I only wore it once. It's a rich blue brocade that will look lovely with your eyes. And an extra pair of my slippers are being covered with the leftover fabric."

  Remembering with bitterness her last such gift, the bolt of cream silk Hermione had given her for her wedding gown, Zora drew her lips together tightly and stared at the dancing flames. She knew she must not appear ungrateful, but she didn't care what she wore to this sham of a marriage ceremony.

  "While you were bathing, the guards informed me that Lord Rurik at first refused my husband's offer of your hand in marriage," added Ingigerd, apparently undaunted by her silence. "Yet he reconsidered when Yaroslav mentioned giving you to Lord Boris, did he not?"

  Zora cast Ingigerd a sharp sidelong glance, wondering what had brought on such a question. Was her aunt thinking that Rurik had agreed to marry her for some other reason than to enhance his own prestige? Surely not.

  "If Lord Rurik changed his mind, it was because my uncle's words finally swayed him," she replied caustically. "Taking a princess to wife will be quite a coup for a Varangian mercenary who must have started out with nothing but the might of his sword! He's won a royal brood mare to help him secure his precious estate."

  Zora wanted to finish by saying that she would be gone long before she gave Rurik any heirs, but she prudently held her tongue. She would be a fool to give Ingigerd any hint of her secret plans.

  "If Lord Rurik was so concerned for his estate, he would have married long ago," Ingigerd said almost to herself as if pondering the matter aloud. "He has six beautiful concubines, four of whom have borne him children. Any one of these women would have made a suitable bride, not to mention the daughters of my husband's retainers who've tried for years without success to gain Lord Rurik's attention." She glanced at Zora, her gaze probing. "But instead he chose you."

  Wondering again why Ingigerd would be discussing all of this with her, Zora had to admit that she had been surprised to hear Rurik had bastard children, and that he had recognized them as his own. It was a rare man who didn't relegate such offspring to slavery. Perhaps she should have admitted to him that she was a bastard. He might have deemed her not worth the trouble of escorting to Novgorod and now she wouldn't be facing this forced marriage—

  A sharp tug on a snarl caused Zora to wince, her irritation pricked not at Marta but that she would waste her time in musing over how things might have been. Her only concern should be how to get herself out of this unhappy mess!

  "Gently, Marta," Ingigerd admonished her slave. She rose and stood behind Zora for a moment, then moved gracefully to the carved mantel and faced her.

  "Is there anything you want to know about the man my husband has chosen for you?"

  Startled, Zora regarded Ingigerd with suspicion. Her aunt's tone, although cool, had not been unkind. "Why would you ask me such a thing?"

  "Only because I, too, once faced much the same situation that you do now, and can imagine how you must feel. My marriage was arranged by my father, the king of Sweden, and even though I loved another man I had no say in whom I wished to wed. Yet I am content here with my husband, and I would wish the same for you. In the end, that is the wisest path."

  Zora looked at the other woman, now wholly astonished. She could not believe that Ingigerd had revealed so much about herself. Up until now, she had hardly been friendly. But if her aunt was implying that she must simply accept what fate had brought to her . . .

  "You wish an impossible thing, my lady," she retorted, resentment welling inside her. "I could never be content with a man who took advantage of me and stole my virginity when I did not have my wits enough about me to say no. A man who continually lied to me and threatened me despite his promises of protection. And during the journey—"

  "If indeed he did those things, I'm certain they were for the good of his mission. You seem an intelligent girl. Did you not think of that? But as for your last charge, Lord Rurik is no despoiler of women. You must have provoked him."

  Ingigerd's blunt statement took her by surprise. Zora felt her cheeks redden. "I did not!"

  "No? You already told me that you dumped the things he had given you into the river. Why else would you have spurned his kindness if not to frustrate him?"

  Flushed with indignation, Zora blurted, "All I did was smile at one of his men. Lord Rurik told me I could ask them for their assistance to draw water from the river but the one time I did, he accused me of attempting to turn his men against him. He . . . he came into my tent and . . ." Her skin became gooseflesh as vivid memories of their encounter assailed her.

  "And?" Ingigerd prodded.

  "He called me a wanton," Zora replied, remembering all too well how Rurik's blue eyes had blazed into hers and how he had pulled her into his arms. As a stirring warmth raced through her, her gaze fell from Ingigerd to the bright orange flames in the hearth. She knew the disconcerting sensation had nothing to do with the fire. "Then he kissed me."

  A silence filled the room save for the crackling logs and the soft swish of Marta's comb through her hair until finally Ingigerd said, "I see no ravagement in a kiss."

  Admitting to herself that she might have exaggerated, Zora nonetheless jutted her chin. "Maybe not, but he swore that I would be punished if I ever caused trouble between him and his men again."

  "And what trouble was this?"

  Becoming exasperated by Ingigerd's probing questions and having no wish to open any discussion on what had happened to Kjell, Zora demanded, "What does it matter? That was days ago—"

  "It matters in that you have accomplished what many an eligible young woman in Novgorod could only dream," Ingigerd interrupted, her tone miffed. "It's an amazing thing that Lord Rurik has finally agreed to wed, given his wont to spurn my every attempt at matchmaking. I would know how it came about."

  Heaving a sigh, Zora decided it was best to humor her.

  "Lord Rurik and the young man I asked to help me got into an argument. I couldn't hear everything through the tent, but I did hear Kjell say something about Lord Rurik caring that I had smiled at him, then Kjell accused Lord Rurik of having an eye for me . . . of making some kind of claim upon me." She shrugged, wanting to close the uncomfortable subject. "That's all."

  Ingigerd again seemed to ponder her words, then she shook her head. "I would never have believed it. Lord Rurik . . . jealous."

  "Hardly jealous," Zora scoffed. "He hates me. He couldn't wait to be rid of me."

  "Hate? I doubt that. Lord Rurik's a man, isn't he? You're an exceedingly beautiful young woman. He had to favor you to take you to his bed. Perhaps his attraction had already grown to such proportions that he couldn't bear to see you smiling at another man aboard his ship and then today, the thought of seeing you wed to someone else spurred him into accepting you as his bride."

  Stun
ned, Zora found herself wondering if this astonishing theory might be true. Could that be why Rurik had changed his mind about marrying her? Then just as quickly she dismissed the thought. What did she care if Rurik had been jealous, or if he was even remotely attracted to her? His feelings meant nothing to her.

  "It's clear you've seen in Lord Rurik only what you want to see . . . an enemy, your brutal captor," Ingigerd continued, ignoring the stubborn set of Zora's jaw. "But I've seen qualities in him over the years that any woman would wish for in a husband . . . bravery, generosity, and honor. It took me many unhappy months after my own marriage to admit that my husband possessed these traits as well."

  Zora eyed Ingigerd skeptically. "Your husband also said that he would throw me to his junior druzhina if I refused to accept his choice for me. Is that so honorable?"

  Ingigerd gave a small laugh. "Yaroslav is not one to be crossed. Yet I do know that he would not have offered you to Lord Rurik unless he believed his warrior was worthy of you. I can see now that you are worthy of him as well . . . an excellent match, I would say. Perhaps you might be the one to ease his heart of the treachery in his past."

  Zora was tempted to reply that she would rather see a spear through Rurik's heart, but a firm rap upon the door stayed her. A lump settled in her throat as a female slave entered the room with a garment of shimmering blue draped over one arm, a matching pair of slippers in her hand.

  "My seamstresses work very quickly," said Ingigerd, clearly pleased. "Isn't the gown a beautiful color? Now come. Let us see how it fits you."

  As Zora rose on wobbly legs, wishing that by some miracle she could be spirited away from this place, this wedding, and, most of all, Rurik Sigurdson, Ingigerd's gaze surprisingly held a glimmer of sympathy.

  "You might consider what we've discussed today. Lord Rurik may seem a hard man now, but in time. . ."

  At Ingigerd's frown, Zora knew that her aunt had seen the renewed defiance in her eyes. She hadn't needed to say a thing.

  ***

  The cathedral was empty save for a small group of people waiting at the steps leading to the altar. As Zora walked with Ingigerd into the candlelit interior, she spied Rurik immediately among her uncle and the same four richly clad advisers who had been in the hall earlier that afternoon. How could she not notice him when he stood so tall and straight above everyone else? Her heart began to pound despite her firm resolve to remain aloof, for she had never seen Rurik so magnificently attired.

  His jade-green tunic could not have fit his powerful body more snugly, the hem and cuffs of his sleeves edged in brocade, while his matching trousers were tucked into boots of fine black leather. At his neck glinted a heavy gold torque and his belt seemed entirely made of gold, the scabbard holding his sword encrusted with precious many-colored stones. She doubted that many princes possessed anything so fine.

  But what made her breath catch and her heartbeat race all the faster was his countenance when he turned to face her, Grand Prince Yaroslav announcing their arrival in his thunderous voice. As she and Ingigerd began to walk down the center aisle, Zora decided that it should be a sin for God to put a man with such looks upon the earth. Freshly shaven, his silvery blond hair swept back from his broad forehead in such a way that his gold earring caught the light, Rurik was truly the most handsome man she had ever seen.

  "See how Lord Rurik watches you?" came Ingigerd's whispered aside as they drew closer to the assembled witnesses. "I believe if the sanctuary was full of beautiful women, he would have eyes only for you. Perhaps one day you will thank my husband for this marriage."

  Zora did not have to be told that Rurik was staring at her as if seeing her for the first time. His open admiration like a blazing heat upon her flesh, she was grateful for the anger Ingigerd's observation had rekindled in her heart.

  How dare he appraise her so in a holy place! Tearing her gaze from his, she walked the rest of the way with her eyes downcast. By the time she and Ingigerd came to a halt at the end of the aisle, she had composed herself sufficiently to face what lay ahead.

  At least she thought that she had. When the bishop came forward and placed her hand in Rurik's warm upturned palm, she started as if burned and began to tremble in earnest. She did not dare to glance up at him, but she knew he was watching her. Rurik was standing so close to her now that his clean, masculine scent overwhelmed her. Not wanting to admit how compelling she found it, out of the corner of her eye she was as easily disconcerted by the movement of his taut abdomen as he slowly breathed in and out.

  To her relief, the bishop climbing the steps to the altar in a swirl of white cloth and embroidered vestments offered her a distraction, albeit an unhappy one. Once she had looked forward to the beautiful wedding ceremony as might any young woman soon to be married. Now it had become her humiliation, her husband not Lord Ivan of Tmutorokan, her father's choice, but a man whom she swore to escape as soon as the opportune moment arose.

  "Come, Zora, we must move forward."

  Rurik had all he could do to force his gaze from her. Gone was the grimy-faced urchin in soiled tunic and trousers, his mutinous captive transformed into an ethereal earthbound angel.

  She smelled intoxicatingly sweet, like summer roses, and even his wildest imaginings couldn't have prepared him for the sight of her in a well-cut tunic that clung to her lushly curved form, her breasts high and proud beneath a bodice shot through with gold thread. Upon her lowered head glittered a jeweled gold circlet. A gossamer blue veil provided the barest wisp of covering for the cascade of tawny hair framing her face and tumbling down her back.

  Repressing his urge to touch a glossy tendril, Rurik began to move forward toward the steps only to feel her resist him, her slippered feet remaining in the same place as if rooted to the floor. Wondering with sudden irritation if she might be considering a final scene of defiance, he closed his hand around her small one and pulled her with him.

  "The bishop is waiting, Princess, and our uncle grows impatient. Come."

  This time she came willingly but Rurik could see from her trembling chin that the decision had cost her. It was almost unfathomable that such a proud, stubborn young woman might be on the verge of tears, but he feared it was so.

  As they reached the foot of the steps, two witnesses coming forward to hold the jeweled marriage crowns above their heads, Rurik loosened his hold and stroked her delicate fingers with his thumb, hoping his gesture might calm her. Instead, she seemed to tremble all the more. Two fat tears slid slowly down her cheeks as the bishop began reciting the service in somber, stentorian tones.

  Moved more deeply than he thought possible, Rurik's regret was acute that he was the cause of such unhappiness. Wondering with uncharacteristic emotion if his touch might ever bring a smile to her lips, he whispered, "Is it truly that bad, little one?"

  Clearly startled, she met his gaze, her outrage shining through her tears. "So you mock me . . . even now when you have won," she said in a small, hoarse voice. "What kind of heartless barbarian are you?"

  Cut to the quick by her words, Rurik riveted his attention upon the bishop, not looking at Zora again until after their vows were said—his spoken with restrained anger and hers barely discernible—and the gold rings upon their fingers. Pronounced man and wife, Rurik could not sign the marriage contract held by the bishop's young assistant fast enough. His jaw clenched all the tighter when after inscribing her name, Zora quickly scrawled three words . . . "against my will."

  "Wrong, Princess," he muttered, taking the pen from the wide-eyed assistant and crossing a bold line through what she had just written. "You had a choice."

  Ignoring her glare, Rurik took her arm as they turned to face their witnesses. Grand Prince Yaroslav's pleased smile was a sharp contrast to Rurik's ire. He couldn't wait to get his rebellious bride home and teach her his first lesson!

  "A feast has been prepared in honor of your marriage, Rurik. Allow my wife and I to escort you to the hall."

  "Our thanks, my lord prince"�
�he turned to Ingigerd, her expression appraising as she regarded first him and then Zora— "Lady Ingigerd, but my new bride is exhausted from our lengthy journey and the hour is growing late. It will be dark when we reach my estate—"

  "I feel fine!" Zora blurted. Hoping to delay what she imagined every bridegroom deemed as his marital right, she added, "A feast sounds wonderful, and I'm so hungry—"

  "You will have to wait," Rurik said tightly, steering her past their silent witnesses. She knew that no one would interfere on her behalf. Her humiliation complete, she could only try to keep up with Rurik's long strides as he hurried her from the cathedral.

  She was not surprised to find Arne and Leif waiting outside in the gathering dusk with three horses. Her dread increasing tenfold, she gasped as Rurik seized her around the waist to lift her onto the back of a huge dappled stallion, but he was stayed when his name was roared out from across the courtyard.

  "Thordar the Strong, my lord," came Arne's low announcement after twisting in his saddle to glance behind him. "Some of his men heard of our arrival and came by the ship asking for Kjell. I told them only that he had been killed in battle. They must have carried the news to his father straightaway."

  Rurik's expression was grim. He released Zora, and his eyes held a clear warning. "Say nothing while I speak with him, do you understand? Nothing!"

  She nodded, growing fearful as the stern-faced warrior approached them. Thick-necked and massive, his scalp shaved but for the graying topknot on the left side of his head and wearing a long bushy mustache, Thordar was one of the most forbidding Varangians she had ever seen. She half hid behind Rurik, wondering what terrible things the man might threaten to do to her once he learned of her role in Kjell's death.

  "I went to the palace but they said you were here," Thordar said to Rurik as he halted in front of them. So close now that Zora could see the warrior had the same hazel eyes as his son, she was not surprised to find them fierce where Kjell's had been gentle. "Why did you not send me word at once of my youngest son's death, Rurik Sigurdson? I learned of it only an hour past from my men."