‘Did you tell anyone about it?’
She shook her head. ‘I knew if I did that there would be terrible trouble. In any case the whole incident was so unpleasant that I felt ashamed to speak of it.’
‘The shame was all his, not yours.’
‘I know that now, but at the time...well, I was twelve and quite unsuspecting that a man might behave in that way. I was also afraid that if I spoke, Ozur would find some way to take revenge. He was that kind.’
‘What happened to him?’
‘He was killed in a tavern brawl two years later, an argument over a game of dice apparently. He lost his temper with the wrong person and got a knife in the belly.’
‘I cannot suppose that grieved you overmuch.’
‘It didn’t. All I felt was relief that I’d never have to see him again.’ She sighed. ‘Even so, I never forgot him.’
‘Memory isn’t so easy to banish, is it?’ He sighed. ‘I wish it were.’
The sigh was heartfelt and she would have given much to know what the memories were that troubled him so, but if she asked he might be angry and that would destroy the present mood. ‘Time helps but we never forget.’
‘No,’ he replied, ‘we never forget.’
* * *
Putting an arm around her, he drew her closer and they lapsed into silence. Although he wasn’t sorry to get at the truth, Leif was conscious of conflicting emotions. He’d met one or two like Ozur in his time; brooding and dangerous brutes with the temper of pit vipers, incapable of mercy. He hoped that whoever had plunged the knife into the snake had done it more than once, and twisted the blade as well. It disturbed him to recall how close he’d come to his own baser nature. If he’d yielded to it he’d have been no better than Ozur.
He glanced down at Astrid but her eyes were closed now, her breathing soft and regular. Taking care not to disturb her, he reached for the coverlet and drew it over them.
It pleased him that she should have confided the matter, and he felt honoured to be the recipient of that confidence. As he knew all too well, secrets long kept dark became harder to reveal. Sometimes there were no words to explain. If he could have found the words he knew that she would be the person he’d talk to; the person he’d have trusted with the truth.
Chapter Sixteen
Over the next few weeks Leif was often absent from the steading, engaged in visiting his kin and others whose allegiance he could rely on, slowly gathering the force he needed. That part wasn’t hard. There were men ready and willing to fight. However, they had to be equipped and shaped into a cohesive unit. That meant discussions with blacksmiths and armourers and long days overseeing training.
In his absence Astrid occupied herself well enough. As Ingrid had said, there was plenty of work around. The heavy tasks were invariably undertaken by servants and thralls but it still left enough to keep Astrid busy. She missed Leif when he was gone and looked forward to his return. Whether it was wise or not, her feelings for him had grown strong and she could no longer deny them. She had no idea of his emotions, if indeed he felt anything for her. While he treated her well enough now he never spoke his inmost thoughts or suggested that she was anything more to him than a mistress. Along with that was a growing sense of disquiet about the preparations in hand. She understood that he had to confront his enemies eventually but what if their force proved stronger? What if it was Leif who fell in battle? The possibility filled her with cold dread. He had always seemed so much larger than life that it was impossible to visualise a world where he was not. Equally she had to face the fact that, having dealt with his enemies, he might see no reason to keep her. Essentially his revenge would be complete.
Pushing these gloomy thoughts aside forced her attention back to the loom, focusing instead on the growing length of cloth she had been working on. Late afternoon sunlight slanted through the open window and doorway. The men would be back soon, tired and hungry and ready for the meal that Ingrid was overseeing in the hall. She could probably complete another half inch of cloth before it was time to stop for the day. By then a meal and some company would not be unwelcome.
She worked on for a while until a sound behind her stopped the shuttle and she looked around to see a tall figure silhouetted in the doorway. For a brief moment she thought it was Leif. Then he stepped across the threshold and her smile faded as she recognised Gunnar.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I came to see you.’
‘Now you’ve found me. What do you want?’
‘Don’t you know, Astrid?’
The tone and accompanying expression set off alarm bells in her head. Suddenly she was aware of their relative isolation, of his greater size and that he was between her and the door. Her only hope was to talk her way out of this.
‘I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.’
‘I think you do.’
‘I think you should go.’
‘Why so unfriendly?’ He took another pace towards her. ‘I mean you no harm.’
‘Clearly our understanding of the word differs.’
‘I’m not asking for anything you haven’t given a man before.’
Her skin crawled but she forced herself to meet his gaze. ‘Get out. Go now and perhaps I won’t mention this to Jarl Leif.’
He smiled and came on. ‘Jarl Leif won’t concern himself over anything as trivial as the sharing of a whore’s favours.’
She edged away from him, heart pounding. ‘Stay away from me.’
‘Stay away?’ His smile faded. ‘I’m going to swive you senseless, slut.’
Without taking his eyes off her he unfastened his breeks to reveal the erection beneath. Her throat dried. She tried to dodge round him in a last desperate attempt to reach the door. With the speed of a striking snake he caught her by the waist, lifting her off her feet. Astrid shrieked. Kicking and struggling, she was borne inexorably across the room and slammed up against the wall. Her nails raked his cheek, scoring a line of red welts. He slapped her hard, rocking her head back. Warm blood trickled from her lip. As he grabbed hold of her skirts she screamed again, fighting like a cornered lynx. The scream was choked off by a hand round her throat. She clawed at his wrist, trying to break the hold, but the grip was like iron. Suddenly it was harder to breathe. Spots of colour danced before her eyes.
‘Let her go.’
Gunnar froze. His hold slackened and then she was free. Astrid gasped, sucking in a lungful of air, her wide-eyed gaze moving past her assailant to the man behind him. When she realised who it was she felt almost faint with relief. She tried to speak but only a faint croaking sound came out.
Leif kept the sword against Gunnar’s ribs. ‘Give me one reason why I shouldn’t spit you where you stand?’
‘It was just a bit of fun, my lord. Nothing more.’
‘Fun?’ The point of the blade pressed a little deeper. ‘Did you just say fun?’
Before Gunnar could reply, Astrid heard running feet and seconds later Harek, Ingolf and Trygg burst through the doorway. On seeing Leif, they checked abruptly, exchanging uncertain glances. Then Harek cleared his throat.
‘Beg pardon, my lord, only we thought we heard a woman screaming just now and decided we’d better investigate.’
Leif nodded. ‘You did hear a woman screaming. My woman.’
The words produced stunned silence. They looked from him to Astrid, taking in the bruises on her throat and the blood trickling from the cut on her lip. Their eyes narrowed and turned their attention to Gunnar.
He licked his lower lip. ‘The woman’s a whore. Where’s the harm in—?’
The words broke off as the pommel of the sword struck him across the back of the head, felling him like a poleaxed steer. Leif surveyed the still form dispassionately.
‘Bind him and take him to the hall.’
Ingolf eyed Gunnar’s naked groin with disgust. ‘Shall we cut off his balls as well, my lord? It’d be no trouble.’
‘Troub
le?’ muttered Trygg. ‘It would be a pleasure.’
Leif shook his head. ‘No, just get him out of my sight. I’ll deal with him presently.’
As the men moved into action, he turned to Astrid, his gaze smouldering. She wanted to speak but the words wouldn’t come. Her entire body was trembling now. He said nothing, only put his arms around her and held her close, gently stroking her hair until the shaking subsided.
When she was a little calmer he took her back to his quarters and made her sit down while he fetched water and cloth and a small pot of salve. Then he set about bathing the cut on her lip. The cold water made her wince but she made no complaint, submitting quietly to his ministrations.
‘It isn’t deep,’ he said, ‘but it’ll take a couple of days for the swelling to disappear.’ He laid down the cloth and dipped a finger in the salve. ‘This will take the sting out of it.’
‘What is it?’
‘Honey. It’s good for healing.’ He applied it carefully, the touch feathering along her skin. Then he scrutinised his handiwork. ‘That’s better.’
‘It feels a little easier already. Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’ He paused, surveying her critically. ‘You still look pale. Lie down for a while and rest.’
‘I’m all right now, truly.’
‘When will you learn to do as you’re told, vixen?’
A smile robbed the words of any sting but the look in his eyes was all too familiar. Knowing it was pointless to argue, Astrid gave in.
‘All right. Just for a while.’
When she had lain down he pulled a cover over her and kissed her lightly on the cheek. ‘Rest now.’
She watched him move away but when he reached the threshold he paused.
‘I’m sorry for what happened today. Rest assured, Gunnar will be punished for his crime.’
‘What will you do to him?’
The blue-grey eyes glinted. ‘That need not concern you.’
Astrid started up on one elbow. ‘Leif?’
‘Gunnar was warned. He chose to ignore that.’
‘What he did was wrong but surely...’
Leif’s expression was as hard and cold as frosted steel. ‘No man challenges my authority with impunity,’ he replied, ‘and no man touches what is mine.’
With that he departed. Astrid fell back on the bed and shut her eyes, her mind in turmoil. Her lip throbbed and her bruised throat hurt. The memory of Gunnar was keen and the knowledge of what he had been about to do to her. If Leif hadn’t arrived when he did... The thought wouldn’t finish itself. The whole business made her feel queasy. Even so, would she have demanded a man’s life in payment for the crime? She let out a ragged breath, knowing that such hesitation would be seen only as weakness. Gunnar had broken a taboo and he would pay for it with his life. Leif would have no mercy and nor would his men respect him for showing any. By now everyone on the steading would know what had happened and they would expect their jarl to dispense swift and summary justice. That expectation would be met.
However, it was about more than discipline and authority, she realised. By acting thus Leif was also sending out a clear message to the rest. No man touches what is mine. After this, no one else would lay a hand on her. It wasn’t just a protective move either: to enact his revenge he needed to keep her safe. In the meantime, she was reserved for his pleasure alone. The knowledge did nothing to raise her spirits.
* * *
The atmosphere in the hall was sombre that evening, the conversation muted. Those who glanced in the jarl’s direction registered his mood and left him to his thoughts. Thorvald was less reticent.
‘You did what you had to. No one questions that.’
Leif nodded. ‘I know. The matter leaves a bad taste though.’
‘It could have been much worse.’
Leif didn’t care to think about how much worse it might have been; what would have happened if he’d returned to the steading just a little bit later. The sight that greeted him in the weaving shed created a surge of fury unlike anything he’d known before. She’s just a whore. His jaw tightened. He’d never been able to see Astrid in that light any more than he’d been able to see her as a thrall. That another man should think her available for his entertainment was intolerable. Until then Leif hadn’t concerned himself too much with the reactions of others; today’s events had revealed a fundamental shift in his thinking that had happened a while ago without him even being aware of it.
‘The fact that it wasn’t a lot worse is the reason Gunnar got a quick, clean death,’ he replied.
‘Some might think he got off lightly in that respect.’
‘People may think what they like, but if they’re wise they won’t mention his name again.’
Thorvald took the hint and changed the subject. For a while they talked of military matters but Leif was not in the humour for protracted conversation of any kind, and after a while he rose and took his leave.
Instead of returning directly to his quarters though, he went outside, needing some fresh air. The night was cool and when he glanced up the stars were hidden by cloud. A breeze was blowing in from the west and it smelled of rain. He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, letting some of the tension go with it, and then strolled to the edge of the pasture. The quiet was welcome because it allowed him to order his thoughts. Events that day might have been unexpected and unpleasant but they had also concentrated his mind on a problem that had been teasing him for weeks. He’d been letting matters drift but that would no longer serve: he was going to have to make a decision.
* * *
When he retired some time later it was to find Astrid fast asleep so he undressed and slid into bed without disturbing her. She looked remarkably peaceful. In a few days the bruises would be gone and there would be no outer signs of the assault. Whether it had done lasting damage in other ways remained to be seen. It wouldn’t have been surprising if she’d fallen into a fit of hysterics after what had happened, but she’d proved more resilient and more courageous. It was only when he put his arms around her that he’d realised how much she was shaking. It reinforced his sense of her vulnerability and his own protective instincts. Along with that was a streak of jealousy he hadn’t known he possessed. At the time anger was too great for words. Besides, what could he have said that would not sound like a platitude? He couldn’t change what had happened but he could ensure it never happened again, not to her or any other woman. Gunnar had got off lightly, all things considered.
Chapter Seventeen
For a few days after her ordeal, Leif made no attempt to force himself on Astrid when they retired. Instead he seemed content just to hold her. If he kissed her it was on the cheek or the forehead, thus avoiding the cut lip. That patient consideration did him no disservice in her eyes, or his gentleness either. It was a side to him that she found both unexpected and compelling. In so many ways he was a paradox, and yet the warlord and the lover were indisputably the same man. Except, she reflected sadly, that he didn’t love her and never had; he’d always been honest about that. A degree of consideration was the best she could hope for from him.
His present mood encouraged her to think she might broach a subject that had been much on her mind; the matter of what he meant to do with her in the end. In all the time they’d been together Leif had never done her physical injury or permitted anyone else to either. That being so, might he not let her go to Ragnhild rather than sending her back to her uncle which would mean almost certain death? Having taken his pleasure, would he be prepared to show her that much mercy? She could only pray he might. In any event it would be better to know than to live in uncertainty and that meant asking him. Not just yet perhaps, but soon. It was just a matter of finding the right moment.
* * *
Leif and Aron stood at the edge of the meadow where half-a-dozen mares were grazing quietly.
‘They’re fine animals. They’ll improve the bloodline, no question.’
Leif nodded
. ‘That they will.’ He looked around in silent approbation at the well-kept fences and growing crops and healthy livestock. ‘You’ve looked after the place, Aron, and I thank you.’
His companion smiled faintly. ‘It’s all I’m good for now that my sea-faring days are done.’
‘The whale road is not the only way of making a living.’
‘No, but it’s the most exciting.’
‘You miss it.’
‘Sometimes: usually when Ingrid is nagging or one of the horses has colic or a fox has got into the henhouse.’ Aron paused. ‘But you know all this. You were a homesteader before you went a-viking.’
‘In another lifetime.’
‘Would you not settle down again one day?’
‘Who knows?’ replied Leif. ‘The Norns weave as they will.’
‘True enough. I didn’t think I’d ever marry again but circumstances change.’
‘I didn’t know you were married before.’
‘Well, I was—for eight years. We had three sons. Then the fever came one summer and took them all and my wife with them. After that there was nothing to stay for so I took to the whale road and followed it for twelve years until I lost my leg in battle.’
‘And my father gave you charge of the steading in his absence.’
‘He was a good jarl and he kept faith with his oath men. Then, one Yuletide, I met Ingrid. Her husband had died so she was alone too.’ Aron paused. ‘Loneliness does things to a man after a while; makes a stone of his heart, twists his mind if he lets it. I’ve seen it happen. I should not like it to happen to you.’
‘It won’t.’
‘You are still young enough to start again, to take another wife and have a family—fine sons to continue your line.’ Aron met his eye and held it. ‘I will never have that now, but you can.’
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