by Byrne, Lily
The ice-blue, furious eyes, snarling face and metal pressing on his neck convinced Styrkar to concede and he stepped back from Lini.
“Look out!” Lini gazed in horror at something behind Kjartan, so he whirled just in time to catch three of Styrkar’s henchmen as they crept up. He set to work on them, slashing at one’s face, punching another, then elbowing the one on his right. He seemed to blur, moving so fast and so angrily. The three retreated, then Styrkar pushed Lini out of the way.
“Don’t go anywhere on your own, will you, ergi?” He muttered to him, then went to attack Kjartan.
The warrior whipped round and hit him with the sword hilt, then turned back to the remaining two. He beat them, slashed at them, kicked them. The sound of boot and fist and sword hitting flesh, and groans of the men were all that could be heard. The crowd began dispersing, only the really callous onlookers remaining to see Styrkar and his friends getting more and more bloodied.
“Kjartan, stop!” Lini said at last. “I think they’ve got the message.”
He froze, and the beaten men crawled away in the shocked silence of the crowd. Everyone stared at the lanky amber smith, amazed at the power he had over the wild warrior.
“You’ve made a mess outside my house,” said a shrill voice as an old woman approached from her doorway. “I don’t mind you drinking but I won’t stand fighting like his.” She glared at the panting Kjartan, who glared back.
“Sorry,” mumbled Lini. He looked in his belt pocket and handed her some amber beads, luckily saved from the destruction of the forge.
“Oh, well, I - er - thank you,” she stuttered. “Be on your way before my husband gets back.”
Lini dragged Kjartan away from the scene by the arm, the crowd parting nervously as they approached.
“What have they done to you?” he asked when he’d got his breath back.
“Oh, I’m alright. Just a few bruises.”
“I meant your hair. Look at it.”
Lini shrugged. “It’ll grow back. People will stare but they do that anyway. Now I know it was that bloody Styrkar and his mates, I can tell the Jarl. Get some justice for myself.”
There were always ears to overhear things in Hallby however, and threats like that always got back to the target.
*
Kjartan knocked on Ragnar and Aelfwyn’s door the next morning.
“Come in. I heard about the fight,” said Ragnar. “Is Lini alright?”
“He’s quite beaten, but surviving.”
“Sorry about the Huskarls’ behaviour. They’ll be disciplined. Steinar is furious.”
“I can’t help you train them anymore. They don’t deserve my help.”
Ragnar paused and Kjartan looked round at the cosy scene. Aelfwyn was feeding the small children who were making babbling noises and saying ‘mama’ to her, while her older daughter Bebbe helped. He felt a pang of sorrow for Lini, who only saw his children in the distance these days.
“Sorry to hear that,” said Ragnar, “but I think I understand.”
“Tell that Styrkar to stay out of my way. I’ll kill him next time.”
“Alright, but don’t get into trouble. Want to stay for a drink?”
“Better not, thanks. I don’t want to leave my family alone for too long. You know what people are like at the moment.”
“Very well. Good luck, brother.” Ragnar patted him on the shoulder and he went out again.
“You’re very accepting of him these days,” said Aelfwyn.
“I get tired of narrow-minded folk. Who cares who he sleeps with as long as he doesn’t go round murdering people?”
“That’s true.”
“I sometimes think we should move out of the village. Maybe go to Gippeswick and find out more about the world.” He looked round at his family: the little twins; Alvi grabbing the spoon from his mother; and Bebbe, her cheeks plumper than when she was rescued from the wolf cult.
“Let’s talk about it later,” said Aelfwyn. “I need to get on with my work and so should you.”
*
That evening, Lini realised he’d been at the forge clearing up all day and was too tired to wait for Kjartan to come and help. He’d cleared up all the broken glass and amber, and he could leave the rest until tomorrow as he was sore from the fight with Styrkar and his gang yesterday.
He should get home for tea; it was getting dark as it was an overcast day. The autumn was drawing on and the nights were getting longer. The wind hissed through the trees whose leaves were turning red, gold, orange, yellow, and as he locked the front door, the noise made him shiver. He was being silly to see threats everywhere these days.
Would his life be easier if he’d kept quiet about his desire for Kjartan? Certainly, but not happier. He’d been living a half-life with Halldora, unaware and stifled, but now he felt released and free. He’d never felt as passionate towards her as he’d felt towards Brodir, let alone Kjartan, who provoked such overwhelming feelings in him.
Branches creaked, making his heart pound as he couldn’t yet see the lights of the village. He speeded up his pace.
A figure stepped out from behind a tree and grabbed him by the arm.
“Think you got away with that, ergi?” said the harsh voice of Styrkar, “because your filthy lover came to save you?”
Before Lini could reply, he felt his hands being tied and Styrkar dragging him along. They returned to the glass forge.
“Why are you bringing me back here?”
“You haven’t learned your lesson yet,” he sneered, one of his eyes shut with bruising, “you disgusting ergi.”
“But -”
Styrkar’s fist connected with his jaw and all went black.
*
Lini awoke lying face down on the finishing table where he decorated his glass vessels, joined beads into necklaces, smoothed the rough edge of rings. He could smell the substances he used for finishing; they were vile. While his face was pressed against the table, his arms were stretched to either side of him, making his shoulders ache in agony. He couldn’t move, ropes bound his wrists and were tied to the table legs. His feet were spread apart on the floor, his ankles tied to the legs on that side of the table.
“Ha ha, now you get your punishment,” said Styrkar’s voice behind him. Lini managed to turn his head a little and to his horror saw the Huskarl unfastening his trousers. He pulled desperately at the ropes tethering his hands. He was defenceless and his stomach churned as he struggled, trying to free himself.
“That dirty coward disrespected me, so you’re going to pay.”
Styrkar stepped up to Lini and ripped his trousers down too. This couldn’t be happening; it must be a nightmare. He struggled wildly, but he was tied too strongly.
“Don’t touch me!” he shouted.
“There’s no point shouting,” said Styrkar coldly. “Your forge is too far away for anyone to hear.” He leant over and spoke directly into his ear. “Now you do what I want, pretty boy.”
Alcohol fumes made Lini retch. He squinted at his attacker’s face. Disgust and desire were fighting in his eyes, and a chill clutched at Lini’s spine.
Styrkar began to push his cock into him, slowly, a little at a time, as it was difficult. It felt like a knife blade and Lini cried out with pain and revulsion.After all the lovemaking with Kjartan, it was an agonising shock to his body. He had to stop Styrkar, but wriggling made it worse. Bile rose in his throat and tears forced themselves from his eyes, but he refused to make a sound.
“Oh, yes,” murmured Styrkar, moving back and forth rhythmically. “Yes, yes, yes, yes.”
He continued, faster and faster, grunting like a beast, panting. Lini’s heart pounded, his face pressed against the stinking table, praying for Kjartan to come looking for him.
*
A while later, the sight of home had never been so welcome. Walking back there had been torment but he was determined to get to safety.
He slumped through the front door and Kjartan rushed to h
elp him.
“What the hell’s happened?” he asked.
“Shut the door.” Lini was too tired and afraid to be polite. “Styrkar raped me.”
“He what?! Where is he? I’ll fucking kill him -”
“Kjartan, please!” snapped Mildrith. “Lini needs our help. You can kill Styrkar later.”
Kjartan half carried his lover to the bed and carefully laid him down on his front. He sat next to him, stroking his hair.
“I’ll kill him, don’t worry,” he whispered. “I’ll avenge you.”
“Lini, are you in terrible pain?” asked Mildrith, bringing a wet cloth for his injuries.
He nodded.
“Kjartan, get the washing tub and fill it with water. And put salt in it. That worked wonders for me after I had Dalla.”
Lini smiled weakly at her. “If this is what childbirth feels like, I’m glad I’m a man.”
They helped him sit in the water.
“This isn’t too bad, after the first shock.” He relaxed a little, still shaking but at last feeling safer.
“D’you want to tell us what happened?” asked Mildrith. “It might make you feel better.”
Lini took a deep breath and began, then Dalla started crying and Mildrith hurried to her.
“Carry on,” said Kjartan, stroking his hand. He was shaking with rage. “If you want.”
Lini couldn’t stop the story pouring out now, even though he felt like he might vomit at any moment.
Kjartan’s rage grew in his heart. Styrkar deserved to die like the coward he was.
*
The next day, Kjartan told Lini it was done.
“You won’t ever see Styrkar again,” he said, squeezing his hand.
“I wish I could have done it, but I just couldn’t,” whispered Lini.
“It’s alright. You don’t have to worry about him anymore.” He kissed him gently on the forehead.
*
Lini recuperated in bed at home for the next few days while Kjartan and Mildrith went about their lives, trying to act as if everything was normal. The ploughing still had to be done, as did the cooking, cleaning, weaving. Life didn’t just stop, even though Lini felt as if his had.
“I won’t tell anyone about the rape and neither will Mildrith,” said Kjartan, stroking his hair as he lay resting.
“Thanks.” Lini’s voice was thin. He only smiled weakly these days.
“You’ll get over it. People do. They’re strong. They survive rape.”
“Has it - has it ever happened to you?”
Kjartan flinched. “No! I’m not the sort of man who gets raped, I’m the sort of man who …” He bit his lip.
“The sort of man who what?”
“I mean-I - I’m -”
“You’re what? The sort of man who rapes? The sort of man who’s so strong and powerful that no one ever rapes him?”
“N – no - I -”
“What are you saying about me, that I’m weak and unmanly, just the type who gets raped? Yes?”
“No. Come on, I just meant -”
“He tied me down! I couldn’t escape!”
“But -” Kjartan ventured to stroke his arm but he moved it away.
“Don’t touch me! I don’t want someone who despises me!”
“I don’t despise you. You’re exaggerating.”
“Do you know what it’s like having a cock stuck inside you? This one was like a knife! It felt like a blade cutting my arse out! It hurt so much!” He was crying now, with humiliation and grief.
Kjartan gulped. Was this what it felt like for Lini when he did it? He didn’t dare ask. What if he’d really hurt Lini but he’d kept it quiet?
“Please tell me you’ve never raped anyone.”
He paused uncomfortably. “A couple of women, I suppose. They – I -”
“You’re a hypocrite! Sympathising with me but not the women you raped.” Lini glared at him. “I don’t want you if you’re a rapist.”
“What?”
“What I said.”
“That was in my past. I’m not like that anymore!”
“You still did it!”
“But -”
“I don’t want someone who despises me and rapes people! Go away.”
He turned his head away so Kjartan got up and trudged off.
*
“You’re so thoughtless,” scolded Mildrith as Kjartan sat next to her by the fire. “Of course he’s going to be upset and hurt at the moment. Can’t you imagine how awful he must feel?”
“I’m going to bed.” He gathered a heap of bearskins and made a bed for himself in the opposite corner. He couldn’t sleep, just lay there thinking how stupid he’d just been with Lini, practically unmanning him with his words. He should never have started this relationship, it had just brought disaster to the one he loved.
Mildrith was too tired to sleep with her husband on the itchy bearskins, so she got into bed with Lini. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t all slept together other nights. He was half asleep, lying on his back, so she cuddled up to him.
“This is nice,” she mumbled into his shoulder after a little while.
“One problem though,” he whispered back.
“What?”
He took her hand and put it on his erect cock, groaning as she took hold of it.
“What shall we do about that?” she asked, more awake.
“I’ve got an idea, if you like.”
“Yes, I like.” It was a while since she’d been satisfied. Life had been too busy lately.
“I just want to feel like a man again,” he mumbled, rolling on top of her. She was very willing to help him with that.
She gave a small cry as he entered her and ground herself against him, drawing him further inside. She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed this. She’d been too busy being mother to Dalla to take notice of the ache between her legs.
Kjartan wasn’t asleep and he heard the small, aroused noises they made, their familiar groans and gasps, the giggles, the bed creaks. Had Lini wanted Mildrith all along? Had this been his plan? They were both good people, whereas he was a murderer, a rapist, immoral and violent. He didn’t deserve them. He gulped. They would make a good couple. Perhaps he should get out of their way.
*
The next morning, Lini and Kjartan got up at the same time and met awkwardly between the bed and the bearskins.
“Morning,” Lini spoke first.
Kjartan must have heard him fucking his wife, surely. He glanced briefly at the warrior’s eyes and recognised that expression - the narrow, suspicious eyes - so looked away, blushing. What had he been thinking last night? Although having sex with Mildrith had made him feel less of a victim, it still wasn’t right.
“Sleep well?” Kjartan’s lip curled scornfully, which Lini hadn’t seen for a while.
“Oh – yes – fine. Did you?” He still couldn’t look him in the eyes.
Kjartan stomped away without answering and Lini’s heart sank. What had he done? He’d gone too far and Kjartan would never forgive him. Everything was so confusing; he didn’t know what to think about anything since the rape. Having sex with Mildrith had made him feel physically better, but not better in any other way.
*
Life trundled on for the next few days. The sun rose, the sun set. The sowing of next year’s seeds had begun, and Kjartan went to help with that, despite the continual insults. The grain had to be milled into flour, either at home using a hand-operated quern or be taken in bulk to Gylfi, the miller, who would put it through his watermill by the stream as it plunged down from the escarpment. Then the flour would be given to the baker Nikolas and his workers to make bread for everyone.
Mildrith took care of the home and Dalla while Lini loitered around, helping her when she needed an extra pair of hands, such as when she was weaving or lifting the heavy cook pot. He still slept in bed with Mildrith while Kjartan stayed on the bearskin couch, but he woke every night shaking with fear and she calmed h
im. He knew he’d have to go back to the forge at some point but he couldn’t yet.
“They’re more subdued these days,” Kjartan remarked at supper.
“Who?” Mildrith nursed Dalla while eating her stew.
“The men in the fields. They don’t even insult me anymore. I think they’re scared of me.”
Lini snorted and scratched the itchy, short hair at the back of his head.
“And the Huskarls are, too. Ragnar said he and Steinar had real problems training them this year, but now their ring leader’s gone, they’re calming down. He said he wishes I was still there, because Bjarni won’t be back for a few weeks.”
“That’s great. You’re such a hero,” said Lini sarcastically. “If only they knew the truth, eh?”
“What fucking truth?”
“Sh! Dalla’s nearly asleep,” hissed Mildrith. “Can’t you two kiss and make up?”
The men looked away from each other.
*
Later that evening, there was a loud knocking on the door.
“Who’s there?” Kjartan shouted from his bearskin nest.
“Ragnar.”
Kjartan opened the door cautiously, but nearly shut it again when he saw Ragnar had four Huskarls in uniform with him, standing there in the light drizzle of rain.
“What’s this all about? We were asleep.”
“Did you murder Styrkar?” Ragnar got straight to the point. “We’ve found his body.”
“Er -”
Lini appeared behind him, yawning.
“Yes, I did,” said Kjartan forcefully. “I killed him.”
“But -” said Lini.
“Keep out of this.”
“You’ll have to come with us to the Jarl’s hall.”
In the moonlight, Ragnar’s expression was inscrutable, despite the droplets of rain running into his eyes.
“Alright.”
“We know you did it,” said one of the other Huskarls. “You’ll have to be punished, you sensor -”
“Quiet!” barked Ragnar. “Kjartan, you’ll have to be bound.”
He presented his wrists, avoiding Ragnar’s eyes.
“They can’t take you!” exclaimed Lini. “I -”