by Jaid Black
Agata blushed. “Nay, not really.”
“Yes,” Madalyn said definitively, “you are.” She sat up straighter in her seat, an air of authority stealing over her. “I was an actress. I know beauty when I see it and you, my dear, are every casting director’s dream come true.”
“I know not what a casting director is, but I thank you for your compliment.”
“Why are people who live here considered undesirable?”
Annikki sighed and answered. “’Tis where the poorest of New Sweden dwell.”
So, a caste system of sorts. Madalyn’s gaze flicked over to Otar, who was studying her intently. She felt bad for him and his family, and suddenly understood why he had been so defensive of Shanty Row and embarrassed to bring her here.
It was proof positive that he was an undesirable—in this world.
“’Tis a sorry tale, how we ended up on the Row,” Annikki said, shaking her head.
“Mama,” Otar quietly interjected, standing up, “’tis no need to bore Madalyn with our life history.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I must go to the grindstone and work. I will see you at the evening repast.”
“I’m not bored,” Madalyn countered. “I’m very interested.” The last part of what he had said slowly dawned on her. “You’re leaving?”
“Only to work. I shall return, Madalyn.”
“You needn’t look aggrieved, daughter,” Annikki assured her. “Naught will happen to you whilst he is away.”
“I’m not distressed.” She attempted a scoffing look but suspected she fell short. “Well, maybe just a little,” she muttered.
Madalyn had expected to feel relief if he ever left her; instead, she felt dread and more than a little insecure. Otar was many things—her captor, her defeater, her subjugator—but he was also her protector.
Still, she didn’t want to appear a weak little ninny. It was bad enough that she already looked like a raging slut. “I’ll be fine,” she told Otar. “Really.”
Otar slowly inclined his head. “You will spend the day with my mother and sister. All will be well, Madalyn.”
“I know.”
He bent down and kissed her cheek. Annikki and Agata smiled, dreamy expressions on their faces, as if Otar and she were the love match of the millennium. Madalyn delicately cleared her throat and accepted the kiss.
After the door had closed behind him, she turned back to the other women. “So…” She smiled at Annikki. “Please go on.”
“Eh?”
“You were telling her the saga of how we came to live here,” Agata reminded her.
“Oh, aye.” Annikki chuckled. “The old memory isn’t what it used to be, I fear.”
“Now,” Madalyn said, steering back to the point, “you were saying…”
OTAR RAISED THE HAMMER high above his head and struck down hard on the metal below. He repeated the action as he sweated heavily, needing the release it provided.
Right at this very moment, Madalyn was learning about his past and his present. He had hoped his mother and sister wouldn’t inform her that she’d wed the most undesirable man in all of New Sweden—at least not until he had captured his wife’s love.
All would be lost now. No wench would want the black mark of being married to an outcast, of knowing that any children she might bear were marked as undesirables before they were even conceived.
Could he blame her? Nay, he could not. Were he a wench, he wouldn’t wish to marry such a man as himself, either.
He shouldn’t have claimed Hunter’s Right, forcing Madalyn to his side for all times. Aye, he wanted her, but it wasn’t fair to force her into such a humble, pitiful life in Shanty Row.
“You look like someone died.”
Otar glanced up at the sound of his cousin’s voice but didn’t cease his exhaustive labor. “You aren’t one to talk.”
“Wench troubles?” Nikolas ventured.
“Aye. You?”
“Aye.”
They shared a commiserating look. His breathing heavy, Otar leaned back on his hammer.
“She will never love me,” Otar said, coming straight to the point. “Who could love a man on Shanty Row? ’Tis why none of the poor sods ever wed.”
“’Twill not be that way always, cousin,” Nikolas promised. “Leastways, I will make things better for those on Shanty Row after the Revolution.” He looked at him pointedly. “And you shall be reinstated as the rightful heir to your sire’s estate.”
Otar didn’t even know if he’d live through the Revolution. Still, if he didn’t, it was a relief to know that Nikolas would see that she dwelled in the luxury of Thordsson Longhouse.
“So what are your troubles?” Otar asked. He didn’t feel like talking of Madalyn right now; ’twas a sore subject. “You’ve a grand estate.”
He grunted. “Ronda thinks our people to be barbarians. She won’t even speak to me.”
“She will come around,” Otar reassured him.
Nikolas smiled. “Mayhap you should take your own advice.”
That was different—vastly so. Otar was already preparing himself for being rebuked by Madalyn upon his return home. He couldn’t blame her, yet neither could he stop mourning the loss of any love that might have blossomed.
But this was not Lord Ericsson’s woe to endure. He had enough on his mind, preparing for the war that lay ahead.
“Mayhap I should,” Otar said noncommittally.
Nikolas patted him on the back and left the grindstone.
MADALYN LISTENED WITH A HEAVY HEART as Annikki told her how they had all ended up on Shanty Row. Otar had lost so much, and for reasons so shallow.
“That’s terrible,” Madalyn said, her heart wrenching. “I can’t believe that Toki character got away with it.”
“Nor can I.” Annikki’s sigh was weary. “’Tis glad I am my husband died before Toki rose to power. ’Twould have torn his heart asunder to watch my sire’s home snatched away by foul hands.”
“What about Otar? I’m sure it was difficult on him, too.”
“Aye, it was,” Agata interjected. “He has spent his entire life preparing for battle. He is obsessed with regaining all that was lost. Not for himself, but for us.”
Madalyn stilled. “He’s going to a battle?”
“The Revolution,” Annikki clarified, her voice lowered to a hush. “I do not want Otar to join it, yet I know he cannot be swayed.” She went on to explain what the Revolution was and why it was occurring. “Death will come to many before the jarldom is reclaimed. I could not bear it, did I lose my son.”
Madalyn’s stomach was in knots. She supposed a captive bride shouldn’t care if her husband died in battle, but she did. Much more than she wanted to admit.
Madalyn covered the older woman’s hand with her own. “Otar is the strongest man I’ve ever met. He will make it through alive, no matter what lies ahead.”
“Well,” Annikki said, changing topics, “would you like to see more of Shanty Row? Agata and I would be pleased to give you the tour.”
Madalyn inclined her head. “Sure. That sounds good.”
Chapter
Eighteen
“There isn’t much good to see here,” Agata warned her as the trio made their way from the Thordssons’ adjoined huts. “But ’tis wise to be familiar with the layout of the land.”
“I’m sure there’s got to be something redeemable about your village,” Madalyn demurred with a sincere smile. “I’m looking forward to seeing it.”
Annikki and Agata shared a glance that said they wished Madalyn was correct, but she wasn’t. She swallowed, not really sure what to expect of the tour, but suddenly a bit nervous about it.
“This is where the children of Shanty Row gather and play.” Annikki gestured toward something that resembled a pig’s trough with five filthy kids wrestling in it.
Madalyn smiled at the children, who, not knowing any better, laughed and giggled like the richest people on earth. They had only a tiny bit of dirt and
clay to play in, but they managed to make it look fun. Kids were kids no matter where you went, and these little ones were no different. Boisterous and rowdy, they took playtime quite seriously.
“The babes of this village are few in number,” Agata explained as a boy ran up and greeted her in their native tongue. She grinned at him, affectionately ruffled his hair, and sent him back to play with the other children. “So they are deemed treasures here. All those on the Row care for and love them as though they were their own children.”
“That’s wonderful. But why are there so few children?”
“Hardly any men can afford wives,” Annikki informed Madalyn. “Only the most desperate of sires allow their daughters to enter an auction where Shanty Rowers are permitted to bid on brides.”
“I see.” Annikki and Agata didn’t flat-out say so, but she could tell they believed life here was a wretched existence. She couldn’t help agreeing. “That’s terrible.”
Madalyn followed the other two women down a narrow alley. “Why is it so quiet here?” She asked.
The place looked like a ghost town, and it gave her the creeps. Drake’s mind would have had a field day with all these deserted alleys and shacks. Otar had been correct—if you’d seen one hut you’d seen them all. Still, most of the huts looked to be faring far worse than his. The Thordssons seemed rich in comparison.
“Most of those on the Row are men,” Agata explained. “They toil in the mines for a few coins thrown their way. So they are gone working all day.”
Male laughter and whistles reached Madalyn’s ears, the sound at odds with Agata’s previous statement.
“’Tis the alehouse of the village,” Annikki responded, as if reading her mind. “The alehouse is the only establishment in Shanty Row that those of higher classes frequent. The voices you hear belong to males of the upper classes, not the men who dwell here.”
“Why do they come to Shanty Row for food and drink?” Madalyn asked. She honed in on the cobblestone building that was built much more sturdily than anything else in the area. “Don’t they have their own pubs?”
“Aye,” Agata said acerbically, anger apparent in her voice. “Yet they cannot get as many creature comforts in those alehouses, so they choose to come here, pandering for favors like the vermin they are.”
“This is where the majority of daughters and wives of Shanty Row must make their wages.” Annikki sighed. “We are fortunate that Lord Ericsson pays Otar well enough to keep us from the same fate.”
Madalyn had no idea what they were talking about. Approaching the cobblestone structure, she decided to keep her mouth shut and ask questions later.
“Go on,” Agata whispered. “Take a look inside.”
“Be careful not to be seen!” Annikki warned in a hushed voice. “You do not covet the attention of any man in that place.”
Curiosity consumed Madalyn. She made her way behind a large boulder and peered up over it. Much of the building was designed like an open cantina, overhead fans and all, so eavesdropping was relatively simple. When she got a gander at what lay on the other side of the rock she was hiding behind, she had to remind herself she couldn’t make a sound, not even a gasp of astonishment.
This certainly explained a lot of what Annikki and Agata had said. Her heart sank for the poverty-stricken women of the village whose lot in life was serving men of the upper classes.
Being a waitress wasn’t so bad—Madalyn had done it before stardom had come knocking—but doing it naked, and while anything with a penis groped and fondled you, was beyond humiliating. She felt so sorry for the women that her heart ached.
Madalyn’s disbelieving gaze honed in on one female in particular. She was strikingly beautiful with long, blond hair and clear blue eyes that could be seen all the way from her hiding place. Her body was perfect, trim where men liked for it to be and plump where they preferred. Her breasts jiggled as she walked, toting three mugs of ale over to a group of drunken, loud men. The men’s conversation, once in Old Swedish, switched to English. Madalyn wondered why.
The waitress set the mugs before the three men. She didn’t so much as bat an eyelash when one of those males grabbed her breasts and started sucking on her nipples. She stood there while he played with her, obviously used to such behavior.
The older, drunken male released her nipple with a popping sound. She straightened her back and demurely folded her hands behind her back. The patron held up a coin and grinned. “Show me your treasure if you want this, wench.” He wiggled his eyebrows as his two friends laughed. “Spread ’em wide.”
She did as requested with nary a word of protest. Hopping up onto the small table, the serving girl sat down in front of him and, palms resting on the table’s edges, splayed open her legs. As his beady, aroused eyes studied her slick folds intently, he all but drooled.
“You’ve such a pretty pussy,” the man purred as he began fondling her. He frowned. “But I thought I told you to shave it.”
She gave him the chastised look he sought but didn’t speak a word. She probably wasn’t permitted to; she was expected to just sit there until he waved her away or was sent to another table.
“I could play with this pussy all day.” The man bent his head and flicked at her clit with his tongue several times in rapid succession. “But, alas,” he told her, giving her the coin, “I’ve business to discuss with my men.” He waved her away. “Be gone until I summons you again.”
Madalyn felt sick. This is how the women of Shanty Row helped earn wages for their families? This was what Annikki and Agata—and herself—would have been sentenced to had Otar not found a way to prevent it? She shivered. Madalyn would have rather been dead than subject herself to such a dehumanizing ordeal on a daily basis.
“Come,” Annikki whispered, tugging at her hand. “You’ve seen enough.”
“More than enough,” she agreed, tearing her eyes away. “Can we go back home? I feel rather ill.”
“’Tis sorry I am you witnessed that,” Annikki said, her smile sad. “But you needed to understand the lot of life here, and how fortunate we are in comparison.”
Madalyn got the picture loud and clear. Blowing out a breath, she followed Annikki and Agata back toward the Thordsson huts.
“WELL,” MADALYN SAID as she plopped down at the kitchen table. “That was an eye-opener of an experience. In fact, I doubt my eyes will go back to their normal size for at least a month.”
“Again, you’ve my apologies, daughter,” Annikki said, covering her hand. “I’m beginning to lament taking you to that evil place. I should have—”
“It’s all right.” Madalyn dismissed her regrets. “You were correct—I did need to see it. And yes, I can also see that life in these adjoining huts is a much better one than most women have here.”
Agata sighed. “Mayhap we should have prepared you better. ’Tis a sad sight.”
Madalyn had seen plenty of the seedy in her days as an actress. Granted, she’d never seen something so wretchedly heartbreaking, but a couple of things had ranked close. Scummy casting directors “requesting” sexual favors prior to letting a wannabe actress try out for a part, eager fans groping anywhere they could touch…
But nothing compared to that awful place. The alehouse was as bad or worse than the bride auction block, which was saying a lot.
“There’s got to be something we can do to stop it,” Madalyn said, her mind racing. She glanced at both women. “I mean, there has to be another way women can earn wages around here other than being forced to do…well…that.”
Annikki harrumphed. “If you think of a way, share it with us all. I can’t imagine anyone patronizing an alehouse in Shanty Row unless the wenches be naked and docile.”
“’Tis true,” Agata agreed. Otar tried to think of ways to help them when first we were sentenced to the Row. My brother is known for his cunning, yet not even he could think of an escape from their lots in life.”
There had to be something. There was always something
. It was just a matter of figuring out what it could be.
Annikki gasped. “I’ve an idea.” She smiled slowly. “I never would have thought of it had you not come to dwell here,” she told Madalyn, “but I believe ’twill work.”
“You’ve got my attention. What is it?”
Chapter
Nineteen
Otar came home from the grindstone and found the trio of women right where he’d left them hours earlier: sitting at the table, talking and eating, smiles and laughs abundant. ’Twas a pleasant sight, and one he’d never thought to have for his very own.
The Thordsson women were so engaged in their conversation that they didn’t even hear him approach. He stood back in the shadows and watched, enjoying their banter.
“Do you really think we should?” Madalyn asked, her nose wrinkling.
“I think ’twould be fun!” Agata laughed, her excitement evident. “And I also think ’tis the perfect way to earn coins on the Row.”
“As do I,” Annikki concurred. She patted her blond hair and affected a haughty pose. “I should like to be one of the stars of the saga. I will be the fetching widow coveted by so many warriors.”
Peals of laughter ensued. Otar’s eyebrows inched up as he wondered what they were talking about.
His mother patted Madalyn on the hand. “New Sweden has no theaters to speak of, and plays are a rare treat in this world. ’Twill be a wondrous distraction for our people, as well as a good way to help those on the Row. ’Tis also a fun way to pass the time.”
“Especially your time, whilst you settle into the way of things here in Lokitown,” Agata added.
“I doubt that will ever happen.” Madalyn’s smile dissolved. “I don’t mean any insult, but I can’t accept that I’ll never lay eyes on the outside world again.”
Otar’s muscles tensed up. He would give anything to make her happy, but letting her go wasn’t possible. Even if he wanted to set her free, no noble of the Underground would permit it.