Defiant in the Viking's Bed

by Joanna Fulford

  She swallowed hard, fighting queasiness. ‘This is more than revenge, Leif. It has become an obsession.’

  ‘It became an obsession with me the day I was shorn and beaten and chained in that kennel. Gulbrand will die all right. So will Einar, and then I’ll feed his stinking carcass to his own dogs.’

  ‘And when you have done it, what then?’ she asked. ‘What will you have become?’

  ‘Victorious. My revenge will be complete.’

  ‘But then you will become little better than they.’

  Leif’s frown deepened. ‘You would equate me with them?’

  ‘A man cannot enact such deeds without consequences to himself. Some part of that foulness will remain like a taint on his soul.’ Her hand rested on his arm. ‘Don’t do it, Leif. Don’t let that happen. There’s a different kind of future within your grasp: a home, a family and the chance of happiness. All you have to do is seize it.’

  He made no reply but the look in his eyes spoke for him. Astrid recoiled as though from a slap.

  ‘You don’t want to seize it, do you? That’s the real reason you’re so eager to go.’

  ‘I must fulfil my vow. I will not be forsworn.’

  ‘How very convenient.’

  ‘It’s not about convenience.’

  ‘Isn’t it? The truth is that you’d rather brave battle than stay here.’

  A muscle jumped in his cheek. ‘When this is over I’ll be back.’

  ‘But for how long?’

  ‘My destiny is to follow the whale road. You’ve always known that.’

  ‘I know it’s a useful escape route.’

  ‘I’m not trying to escape.’

  ‘You’ve been trying for the past ten years. Perhaps it’s time to stop.’

  ‘The whale road is my life now.’

  ‘And more important than any life you could have with me and your child.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant. Stop putting words into my mouth.’

  ‘There’s no need. Your mouth is doing well enough on its own.’

  Astrid turned away, knowing she had lost. He had long since explained the conditions upon which their relationship was based, and time had done nothing to change it. Whatever he felt for her, it wasn’t love and it never would be. The knowledge was bitter.

  Sick at heart she undressed and climbed into bed. Leif followed suit and for a while they lay in silence. Then he turned towards her.

  ‘I would not have us part at odds, Astrid.’

  Her throat tightened. ‘Nor I, my lord.’

  ‘Then I would say farewell in my own way.’

  He reached for her then and she closed her eyes. She would not think of the coming confrontation or anything else, only of being here with him, and, for a little while, in the concealing darkness, she could pretend that he loved her.

  * * *

  Next day he rose before dawn and collected his war gear: mail byrnie, sword belt, helm, shield and spear. Astrid watched in silence: she had no more words and he would not have been dissuaded anyway. Nor would tears move him. He was resolved upon this course and would follow it to the end. It was his wyrd.

  When he was ready he turned to look at Astrid. ‘Go well, vixen. I’ll see you again soon.’

  ‘Go well, my lord.’

  ‘If the gods so will.’

  He bent and kissed her soft mouth. She closed her eyes, savouring the moment along with the memory of his lovemaking, and wishing that she had the power to hold him. All too soon he drew back. For a second or two the blue-grey eyes held hers. Then he smiled faintly and turned to go.

  Astrid followed the men out into the cool, grey dawn and thence down the track to the cove where the Sea Serpent waited. Just offshore another vessel was waiting too, crewed by those he had recently recruited to his cause. Most would be kinsmen or oathmen, or both. She estimated about a hundred and twenty in all. Greetings and laughter rang out on the quiet air as Sea Serpent’s crew climbed aboard and stowed their sea chests. Then they sat and took up their oars. Slowly the ship began to move, the blades dipping and rising, barely ruffling the dark water as she headed out of the cove.

  Astrid stood motionless, watching the progress of the vessels along the fjord, her heart like lead in her breast. How many of the men who set out would return? Vengeance was the preserve of Vidar, a powerful and ruthless god who could only be appeased by blood. Against that deity she had no power. No power either to bind Leif with love. Her life had touched his for a while, a strand woven into his wyrd, but no more than that. The effect would be brief and soon forgotten. In time other women would claim his attention for a while and he would pleasure them well and move on, but the passage of years would strengthen the armour around his heart. Once she had thought she might reach him, that he might come to feel about her as she felt for him. It was forlorn hope. Better to be alone than to be with a man who could not love.

  She remained at her vantage point until the ships were out of sight. By then she was resolved upon her own course of action. Slowly she retraced her steps to the hall. Then she found Ingrid and, drawing her aside, came straight to the point.

  ‘I need your help.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘I want you to speak to your brother and arrange a passage for me on the knörr when it returns to Vestfold.’

  Ingrid stared at her. ‘What will you do in Vestfold?’

  ‘I have a friend there who will help me.’

  ‘It is no small thing that you ask.’

  ‘I know that and would not implicate you if it were possible to avoid it. As it is, I cannot do this alone.’

  Ingrid nodded, though her eyes were troubled. ‘Are you sure this is what you want?’

  ‘I did not come to the decision lightly.’

  ‘Jarl Leif will be sorely displeased if you are not here when he returns.’

  ‘He’ll get over it soon enough,’ replied Astrid, ‘if he returns at all.’

  ‘He will. He’s a survivor if ever I saw one.’

  Astrid sighed. ‘I pray you’re right and that the gods may bring him through this conflict unscathed. However, that will not change things between us and I will not go on as they are.’

  ‘Men can be such fools. He should have taken you to wife long since.’

  ‘He would not, any more than he would listen when I urged him not to undertake this latest enterprise. Revenge rules his heart now, and it has killed what the past did not.’

  ‘I wonder if he truly knows his own heart.’

  ‘There is no place in it for me or for his unborn child. He will tire of us both eventually and I would rather end it now than see that happen.’

  Ingrid nodded slowly. ‘I can understand your reasoning but, all the same, I wish you would stay.’

  ‘I cannot.’ Astrid laid a hand on her arm. ‘Will you help me?’

  ‘Very well. I’ll speak to Harald.’

  * * *

  When the knörr left later that morning Astrid was on it. She boarded the vessel at the last moment and ensconced herself in a corner with the cargo, making herself as inconspicuous as possible. Ingrid had provided her with a warm cloak and food and a little money for the journey. Their leave-taking had been confined to a brief, heart-felt hug. Fortunately there were few people around to witness Astrid’s departure since most of the men had departed with Leif and the majority of those who remained were thralls who had long since gone about their work. All the same, her heart thumped as the vessel moved away from the cove and her gaze scanned the track for signs of pursuit. None came. Even so, it wasn’t until the knörr rounded a bend in the fjord and the steading was lost to view that she breathed a little easier.

  At any other time she might have admired the wooded hills and green meadows, but all she could see now was Leif. He would be angered by her going. Being used to command and to being obeyed, he would take it amiss that a mere woman should take such a decision upon herself. Nevertheless, self-respect demanded it. She was not a thrall to do hi
s bidding without question and she was not his wife. A lump formed in her throat. She suppressed it. It was no use wishing for something you could never have. Leif belonged to the past and she needed to look ahead now, both for herself and her child.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Leif halted his force at the edge of the trees and let his gaze move ahead through the grey gloom to the buildings that comprised Einar’s holding: hall, bower, barn, stables, kennels and storerooms were islands in a sea of stillness. The time between night and morning was when sleep was deepest, but for those who watched it afforded light enough. Leif turned to his companions.

  ‘Our quarrel is not with servants and thralls. Provided they offer no resistance let them go unharmed. Our business is elsewhere.’ He looked at Harek and the four men nearest to him. ‘Let’s smoke these vipers out.’

  Harek moved forwards, carrying a lighted brand. His four companions carried skins full of oil. Like wraiths they slipped from cover and ran silently towards the hall. Leif and the rest followed after. While the main host formed a cordon of steel around the building, the others doused the base of the timber walls with oil. When it was done Harek touched them with the brand and then retired. The dry wood caught in a whoosh of billowing flame. The waiting host regarded it with quiet satisfaction.

  For a little while nothing happened. The blaze took hold and grew louder, filling the air with dark, acrid smoke. From inside the hall they heard a shout of alarm and then a confusion of other voices mingled with oaths and coughing. Bewildered and frightened servants ran out through the side door and then checked in horror as they saw the armed men in front of them. They cowered, caught between the flames and the swords. A woman screamed. Leif shouted to them over the din.

  ‘Go! It’s not your lives we want!’ He turned to his men. ‘Let them through.’

  The cordon opened. For a moment or two the fugitives hesitated, torn between hope and disbelief.

  ‘Bloody fools!’ bellowed Thorvald. ‘Are you going or not?’

  One man, bolder than the rest, ran for the gap. When no one tried to stop him the others followed and then they were all through and running for their lives. The ring of steel closed up behind them.

  Inside the hall someone raised the bar on the main entrance and flung it aside. The portal swung open and the first figures appeared through the smoke.

  ‘Here they come,’ said Thorvald.

  Leif nodded. ‘Kill all you can. Just remember, Einar is mine.’

  More men poured out through the burning doorway and then, understanding the true nature of the danger, shouted a warning to the rest. Most had grabbed their swords on the way out but the rest of their war gear was still in the building which was rapidly filling up with smoke. For a brief space they hesitated, then, seeing no other choice, launched the attack. The fighting was fierce and brutal. Einar’s mercenaries fought with the courage born of desperation as Leif had known they would. However, he had no intention of losing his own men if he could avoid it. Full war gear and the element of surprise gave them the edge and he intended to press the advantage.

  The walls were well alight now and the heat intensified, driving the fugitives towards the waiting enemy. Leif’s sword arm rose and fell until the ground around him was littered with bodies, and Foe Bane’s blade smoked with blood. He fought tirelessly, fed by the swift surge of energy that always came in battle. It flowed through him, hot and fierce and exhilarating, lending strength to his arm, sharpening reflex and instinct until he and the sword were one. As he despatched another opponent he darted swift looks around for the man he sought. When at last he saw him his heart leapt.

  ‘Einar!’

  The shout tore from his throat, carrying over the din of the fire and the fighting, and the warlord looked round, seeking the source of the voice. Then he found it. Leif bared his teeth in a smile.

  ‘Remember me?’

  Einar vouchsafed no reply save a snarl and then hurled himself into the fray. For all that he was twenty years older, he was still strong and quick, laying on with savage zeal, intending to slay his opponent swiftly. However, Leif’s guard was impenetrable and unflagging, meeting and returning blow for blow, denying Einar the opening he sought. Gradually the older man began to tire, perspiring profusely with effort and the heat of the fire behind him. Sweat ran into his eyes and down his face and his breathing grew ragged. For a moment his gaze met Leif’s and what he read there changed defiance to desperation. He licked dry lips.

  Still Leif kept up the pressure, untiring, relentless. Einar stumbled and then swore as Foe Bane slashed his arm. Blood welled through the torn fabric, staining shirt and tunic scarlet. Another slash opened a rent across his ribs. He grimaced and clapped his free hand to the wound, reeling as the blood dripped through his fingers. Still Leif came on. Einar fought wildly, his face a mask of hatred.

  ‘I should have killed you while I had the chance.’

  ‘Aye, you should,’ replied Leif.

  ‘What have you done with my niece?’

  ‘I took her to my bed and pleasured her well. Now she carries my child.’

  ‘Then she’s rightly paid out for her defiance.’ Einar swore as Foe Bane carved a parallel cut in his arm. ‘I hope the bitch dies in childbed.’

  Leif’s eyes glinted and he lunged past Einar’s guard, thrusting the point of his sword into the warlord’s shoulder. Einar sank to his knees, dropping his weapon in the dirt. A hand in his hair jerked his head back and then Foe Bane was against his throat.

  ‘What defiance?’ demanded Leif. ‘Did she not lure me into your trap?’

  For a moment Einar’s gaze slid away. Then he smiled maliciously. ‘Aye, she did and willingly too. In fact she rejoiced when Hakke told her of the plan.’

  ‘Just as she rejoiced in the thought of marriage to Gulbrand, I suppose.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘You lying bastard.’

  Einar laughed. ‘You’ll always wonder, won’t you?’

  Leif drew back his sword arm and Einar’s laughter ended in a choking wheeze amid bubbles of blood. ‘No,’ he replied, ‘now I’m certain.’ Then, releasing his hold, he let the body fall, surveying it with anger and disgust.

  ‘My lord?’

  He glanced up to see Thorvald. ‘Well?’

  ‘It’s finished.’

  Leif looked around at the strewn bodies and the burning hall and then at the silent waiting men. Then he nodded.

  ‘Any losses?’

  ‘Not on our side. Half-a-dozen injured is all and none of the wounds mortal.’

  ‘It’s well.’

  ‘What now?’

  ‘We dig a pit and bury the slain.’

  Thorvald blinked. ‘We’re not leaving them for the foxes and crows?’

  ‘No. If we do that they’ll breed a pestilence, and we’re going to need this place since I’m quite certain that Steingrim and company have destroyed ours.’

  ‘I see your point.’

  ‘This will serve us well while we rebuild what they destroyed,’ said Leif. ‘We’ll leave a small contingent to take care of things while the rest of us deal with Gulbrand.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘In the meantime, when we’ve buried the dead, I’ll go and find out what’s left of my holding.’

  * * *

  He was quite correct in his assumptions about that. All that remained of his hall and the other buildings were piles of cold black ash. Weeds and tall grasses had sprung up all around them and the bones of slaughtered cattle lay nearby, the carcasses picked clean by scavengers. Only the land endured, untouched and unchanged.

  ‘Steingrim was thorough,’ said Thorvald, surveying the devastation.

  ‘He’ll pay for it,’ replied Leif, ‘if he hasn’t already. It will all be paid for.’

  Soon enough they would reach the palace at Mørkestein. He calculated on a day or two at most. Then his force would combine with the king’s and smash Gulbrand once and for all. A man cannot enact such deeds w
ithout consequences to himself. He frowned. The consequences to himself would be freedom from his enemies. They would die honourably in combat like Einar, a nobler end by far than the one they’d planned for him. When he’d spoken of those other excesses he had been angry, letting his baser nature have a voice. If he’d meant the words Astrid’s dismay would have been well founded.

  The thought of Astrid induced sharp pangs of guilt. Indeed he couldn’t remember when he’d last felt so wrong-footed. He couldn’t deny that there was truth in some of the things she had said, and when he returned they were going to have to talk. He didn’t know what the answers were, but somehow he would find them. He didn’t deceive himself that it would be easy.

  * * *

  Once Harald had disposed of his cargo he left his men with the knörr and accompanied Astrid on the last short leg of her journey to Halfdan’s hold at Mørkestein. As she had anticipated the king had elected to leave his wife in a place of safety while he went to deal with the rebels.

  Ragnhild received her friend with pleasure and surprise and lost no time in taking her aside for private conversation. Then she listened without interruption while Astrid related her story. She stuck to the facts, omitting only those details that were too intimate to share. In any case the revelation of her pregnancy spoke for itself. The queen’s expression registered both sympathy and indignation.

  ‘When your uncle came for you, I thought we should never meet again. I cannot be sorry that the marriage with Gulbrand did not take place.’

  ‘Nor I. It’s the one positive aspect of the whole business.’

  ‘Gulbrand’s fate is as good as sealed now. Better for him that he dies in battle: the king has a short way with those who oppose him.’

  Astrid nodded. In truth, it was not Gulbrand’s fate that interested her. Her thoughts were with another man altogether.

  ‘But Hakke still lives?’ Ragnhild continued.

  ‘Yes, and as long as he lives there will be a legacy of revenge.’

  ‘After all that you have told me Leif Egilsson can not do other than avenge the insults he suffered. His honour demands it.’

  ‘I know,’ replied Astrid, ‘and I understand his anger, but it has gone beyond that.’