by Lily Harlem
“Of course, Master. I can make anything you need out of leather. Another tunic perhaps, and I’ll line it with fox fur for the winter.”
He nodded. “We should both have one. While the sun shines in the summer it’s easy to forget how cold it will become here. I will buy as much leather as I can afford.” He smiled. “We will be the best dressed master and slave for miles around.”
“We will.” She watched him mount Ivan. “I could make you a saddle too.”
“A saddle.” He squinted down at her. “You can do that?”
“Yes.”
He smiled. “I really did get lucky when I stole you away that day, so many skills that are of use to me and a pretty face too.”
“Master.” Heat bloomed on her cheeks.
He chuckled. “Now carry out your duties, watch over the sheep and Raven, the idiot dog, and I’ll be as quick as I can.”
“There’s no rush,” she paused. “As long as it’s before nightfall.”
“Aye, it will be. I won’t linger, I will get what I need.” He turned Ivan around, his dagger in its sheath resting over his thigh. “Then return home, to you.”
“Be safe,” she called as he dug his heels into Ivan and set off at a canter down the track, which led first to the lake, then to the town.
A strange tug pulled at the center of her chest. She didn’t like seeing him ride away from her. They were always together, so it seemed strange for him to be gone.
She waited until he’d disappeared from view, then turned to the homestead. There was much to be done, but they were doing well with winter preparations. Halvor had caught lots of fish, which she’d smoked, and now that Misty had the mouse population under control their stored food was safer.
Raven was lying in the shade. He’d vomited twice and it was clear he’d found some rotten old meat to eat and upset his system. It wasn’t the first time he’d done such a thing since Duna had been living with Halvor.
Duna replaced the water in his bowl and set it near him, hoping he’d at least have a drink. She gave him a stroke. “You have a day off,” she said softly. “I’ll watch the sheep.”
He sighed and closed his eyes. She heard his stomach gurgle.
“Silly dog.” She stood then glanced at the flock of sheep. They were in the fenced pasture close to the barn, so it was easy to keep a watch over them.
After having a long drink of water, she picked up her hoe and wandered to the vegetable patch. The land was fertile, which was good, but equally that meant weeds were a constant battle.
She worked for an hour, tending the soil around the parsnips and carrots she’d planted, which were currently small shoots, then went to check on the sheep.
Glad of a rest, she leaned on the fence and watched them. The hens found her and clucked around her feet, hoping she’d throw them a few grains but she had nothing. “Later, girls,” she said. “Later.”
The view was so pretty she lingered. The grass was lush and fed animals well. It was also dotted with flowers. A few times she’d collected them and put them in a cask on the table, so she could enjoy their scent in the longhouse. It was better than the smell of the lamp Halvor burned on occasion.
Today the sky was a perfect blue and cloudless. Two big birds soared high above, circling as they slowly edged west.
She decided to check on Raven again.
He was still sleeping, though he’d drunk half of his water, which she took as a good sign. After refilling it, she went into the house. Her own stomach was rumbling.
She ate cottage cheese and bread, washed down with a little ale. The fire took some time to attend to and she set a chunk of mutton on to spit roast. Halvor would be hungry upon his return. A meat dinner would suit him.
Once again wandering into the sunshine, she smiled as she thought of the leather he’d bring back. She’d make him a new pair of boots. They’d be the best he’d ever had and he’d be so proud of her.
She enjoyed pleasing him, though she never thought she would. If it had been said to her on the night he’d stolen her away from her home, she would have scoffed. But now… he was important to her, and he made her feel as if she were important to him.
Not only that he seemed to need her, for he wouldn’t have time to tend the vegetables and the fields, watch the fire all day, cook, and care for the animals. They worked as a team to provide for themselves.
She resumed her work, weeding this time around the potatoes. They’d sourced them at the market, and rather than eating them all, they’d planted half. Now they were sprouting and Duna was looking forward to cooking with them.
“Hey, Misty,” she said with a laugh. “What have you got?”
He was leaping around in a patch of long grass, clearly trying to catch something. His little head was bobbing up and down and his paws swiping into the air. It was then she saw it, a pretty blue butterfly.
“Ah, leave it,” she said, shaking her head. “He’s doing no harm.”
But Misty carried on, unsuccessfully, trying to catch the insect.
After a few minutes she paused, thinking she could hear hooves in the distance. Was Halvor back already?
She glanced at the sky; the sun was dipping to the west. If he’d been quick it could be him.
But then the sound faded and she supposed it was just someone riding past on the far track.
Continuing her work, she began to hum a tune her mother had often sung when she’d been working the leather.
“Well, well, that is a pretty song, and from the mouth of such a fair maiden.”
She started and turned, dropping the hoe to the mud.
Her heart skipped a beat and fear clenched her belly.
The Viking before her was tall and broad with a furred cape over his wide shoulders despite the heat. He had a thick, black, unkempt beard. Around his waist a bulky belt held a long, sheathed sword.
“Who are you?” she asked, unable to keep the tremble from her voice.
“Ah, what’s more interesting is who are you?”
“Aye, she’s ripe for the taking.”
It was then she noticed a man to her right, by the barn. He was holding two horses. Unlike his friend he wore a leather tunic minus the arms. The flesh on his biceps was heavy with ink.
He sent a new wave of terror through her—there were two of them.
She glanced at Raven. He hadn’t stirred from his slumber.
“What do you want?” she demanded, folding her arms.
“What can you give two warriors who are weary with travel?”
“We are a humble home. But I can spare some bread and I have a few crab apples.”
“Ale?”
“No, no ale.”
She went to step past him, to get to the longhouse. Perhaps if she got in quickly, she could lock the door, hide out until Halvor returned.
But the bearded Viking gripped her arm and stopped her progress. “Before we eat, we may take some entertainment.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” She glared at him, knowing exactly what he meant. Her master had warned her of immoral men who roamed the land.
He grinned, a smile that made her feel as sick as Raven felt. His teeth were blackened, and he smelled of stale sweat.
“Hey, she doesn’t know what I mean,” he threw over his shoulder to his friend.
“We should show her then.” The other Viking came toward her. As he walked he undid the button on his breeches. “I’ll go first.”
“My master will be here any moment.” She struggled to free herself but couldn’t shake the grip around her arm. “He’s checking a fishing line at the lake. It’s just yonder, you must have seen it.”
“Aye, and there was no one fishing.”
“And I’m sure your master will be happy to share his thrall with warriors,” the other one said, coming in close behind her. “It will be an honor for him.”
“No, no, it won’t. He won’t be happy.”
He slid his hands around her waist. “Are you a
screamer?”
“Get off.” She writhed within his grip and threw her head back. There was a satisfying thud as she connected with his nose.
“Argh, Celtic wench!”
Suddenly she was falling. She landed on her side on the hard ground, but quickly twisted to all fours and crawled several feet, ignoring the pains in her knees.
“Where do you think you’re going?” A man was over her, she didn’t know which one.
“No! No! Get off me!” she cried.
Her dress was being dragged upward with rough yanks.
She wriggled to free herself from his weight. Terror gripped her. She knew what they intended. They wanted to shove their big cocks into her cunny and find their pleasure.
As her undergarments were ripped off, she screamed. Panic raced around her system. She thrashed her legs and tried to push him away. But there were two of them holding her.
“Aye, this is going to be a tight fit.” Cool air washed over her inner thighs as her legs were yanked apart.
“You brute, leave me alone,” she yelled. “You’ll go to hell for this.”
“No, wench, I’m going to Valhalla, to enjoy the virgins.”
“I reckon you’re getting one now.” His friend gave a deep, sickening chuckle.
She braced. Fury going through her that she could do nothing. That she was helpless.
Suddenly there was a wild roar.
The weight on her back, legs, and arms lifted.
Clank.
Metal on metal.
Clank.
She twisted, dragging at her clothing and scooted backward on her bottom several pace lengths.
Halvor! He was here.
A fight was taking place. Two on one. Halvor using his long dagger against the intruders’ swords. He was spinning this way and that, kicking out too.
Raven had woken and was barking though he hadn’t moved.
Halvor twisted, narrowly missing a sword flying toward his head.
Duna screamed but the sound caught in her throat. She pressed her hand over her mouth. How could this be happening? She’d gone from one moment of horror to another equally terrifying moment in a heartbeat.
What if they kill Halvor?
“You coward warriors, coming here and taking what doesn’t belong to you,” Halvor shouted. He was breathing hard and sweat glistened on his brow.
“She was here for the taking.”
“Aye, and she would have enjoyed it.”
Halvor roared again, and she realized it was him she’d heard before.
He lashed out with his dagger, and ripped through the leather tunic of one of his opponents. But quickly he had to turn and defend himself from the other.
Then he got lucky. The Viking Duna had seen first stumbled. Halvor helped him on his way, shoving at him with his boot.
He fell with a thud, and Halvor managed a swift kick to his head, which rendered him unconscious.
He then turned to the other intruder.
“That is Sven of Broburn,” his opponent said. “He will have your guts for that, you son of a dead sow.”
“I do not care who he is,” Halvor replied. “This is my land, that is my slave. And right now, you should be worried about your own guts.” He raised his dagger and stepped to the right, missing a swing from the heavy sword. He then kicked at his assailant as he lifted the iron weapon again, sending him sprawling alongside his friend.
But rather than kicking him in the head, Halvor leaned over him, quick as a bolt of lightning, and jabbed the dagger at his throat.
The man stopped moving instantly and stared up at Halvor.
“I should kill you,” Halvor said. “For what you were about to do to my thrall.”
“She’s just a thrall. Masters don’t care who fucks them.”
Halvor grunted and pushed the dagger a little more.
A single drip of blood trickled from the man’s neck. “We didn’t think you’d care.”
“I do.”
Duna hugged her knees up to her chest. She’d never seen Halvor so angry. And now, watching him fight, hold a man’s life in his fingertips, she was witness to his skill and strength as a warrior. Her master was awe-inspiring. He moved with grace and fought with talent.
“Leave us be, let us go on our way,” the man on the ground said, staring up at Halvor.
“Give me one reason why I should?” Halvor snarled.
“Because we have done no harm, taken nothing.”
“But you are hardly innocent.” Halvor glanced at Duna.
She swiped tears from her cheeks. She hadn’t even known she’d been crying.
“We will leave, I swear. And it will be like this never happened.”
Halvor was silent.
Duna could sense he was warring with himself. Should he kill these men and be done with it, or let them go?
Suddenly Halvor stood, kicking away the other man’s sword as he did so. “But it did happen. See my woman, she is crying, and you did that.”
The Viking sat and fingered the small leaking wound on his neck.
“So you will apologize to her,” Halvor said, the business end of his dagger still directed at the intruder.
“What?”
“Do it,” Halvor said. “Say you are sorry to her.”
“A thrall, no, she’s a Celtic wench. I am not apologizing.”
“She… is… my… Celtic wench.” Halvor punctuated each word by stabbing the dagger forward until he was close to the other man’s neck once more.
“Sorry, I am sorry.” He turned to Duna. “If we’d known your master was so possessive we would never have…”
“Tried to rape me?” Duna stood even though her legs were weak and she was still shaking. “You are scum, shit, worse than a rat.” She placed her hands on her hips and tilted her chin. “But I can see why you have to resort to rape. A man like you, who stinks of animal dung, looks worse than any pile of sick my ill dog could produce and…” She held up her little finger and wriggled it. “Likely has a tiny cock, like a worm, cannot get himself a willing woman, least of all a wife.”
Halvor was staring at her with his eyebrows raised.
She gulped. Had she gone too far?
“I… I…” The Viking turned to Halvor.
Halvor frowned again. “Get out of here, while Odin is giving me the strength not to cut both of your throats.”
“Aye, we will.” He reached for his friend, struggled for a moment, then lay the unconscious man over his steed.
He went to pick up his sword.
Halvor stood on it. He was holding the other Vikings weapon too. “I don’t think so.”
“We are warriors, we need our swords.”
“They are the price you’ve paid for coming onto my land.” Halvor swung the one he was holding in a complete circle, showing his mastery of the weapon.
The Viking said nothing; instead he got onto his horse, took the reins of the other one, and headed down the track. They left in a trail of dust.
Duna pressed her hand to her chest. It was tight, she was breathing fast. She didn’t know where her bravado had come from in that last moment. Her spine felt weak and her legs as if they’d become fragile sticks.
As soon as the intruders were gone from view, Halvor dropped the sword he was holding onto the ground.
He stepped up to her. “I am here. I have got you.”
He’d reached her just in time. Her legs had given up. “Halvor,” she gasped.
“Shh, it’s over now.” He pulled her close, his arms pillars of strength around her, holding her up.
She gripped his tunic and pressed into him.
“Did they… did they touch you?” he asked against the top of her head.
“Apart from throwing me to the ground and pulling my clothing up, no.” She looked up at him. “You got here just in time, Master.”
His eyes softened. “Praise Odin for that.”
“And I’m thanking God for it.”
“I would
never have forgiven myself,” he said, tugging her closer still.
She was aware of the entire length of his body against hers. Her breasts were shoved up against his chest.
“If anything had happened to you, if you’d been violated, hurt, or worse.”
“I’m unharmed.” She hated seeing his face twisted in anguish. “You came to me in time.”
“I will not leave you again. It was foolish, you didn’t even have Raven to protect you.”
“But I had you, my strong Viking warrior.”
“I am your warrior,” he said quietly. “And I will never leave you again.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, a soft kiss that spoke a thousand words.
Chapter Sixteen
They stood locked together, with the sun beating down on them, for several minutes.
Duna was thankful when her heart rate and breathing returned to normal and her limbs began to feel like hers again.
Her fingers ached, though, from gripping Halvor’s tunic. She’d never been so glad to see anyone as when she’d turned and seen him defending her. And now she didn’t want to let go… ever.
For she’d known, in that moment, that when he’d said he’d protect her, he’d meant it to the core of his being. He’d taken on two warriors who had better weapons than him… and won.
“We should go indoors,” Halvor said eventually. “And eat.”
“I have food cooking.”
“You are a good thrall.” He smiled and stroked his hands down over her hair, until he cupped her face.
She stared up into his eyes. They were the same color as the sky behind him.
He dipped his head, his nose almost touching hers.
She held her breath. What is he doing?
“Duna,” he whispered.
“Did you get the leather?” she asked.
Something in his eyes changed. He pulled back and released her. “Aye.” He turned away. “You will be pleased with the quality.”
She stared at him as he strode toward Ivan who was happily eating the grass Misty had been chasing the butterfly in.
Had he been about to kiss her… on the lips?
It had seemed as if that was about to happen.
So why didn’t he?
She hugged her torso, missing his arms around her, as she went into the longhouse.