Sigmar raked his eyes over each man in turn. What was Canute expecting? It came to her like a blow from Thor’s hammer that at least one of these men would die at Sigmar’s hand—or hers. Mayhap Canute knew he couldn’t trust them completely.
“I am honored to be in the company of these illustrious ealdormen,” Sigmar replied diplomatically, but she heard the icy edge of disdain in his voice. It confirmed her suspicions.
The king carried on as if a life and death drama wasn’t unfolding. “We’ve also laid plans to collect Danegeld. I want to raise enough in ransom to pay off some of my army and send them home to Denmark. I won’t need them with the numbers of soldiers these three men command.”
Evidently Canute was playing some game whose rules eluded her.
“Streona, Erik and I can raise seventy-two thousand pounds over the coming year,” Torkild asserted confidently.
Audra tried to fathom how they planned to extort such a sum from the war weary folk of England, but her brain stopped working when Canute added, “I estimate a further ten thousand from London and its environs.”
The Waterfall
Living at close quarters became increasingly difficult. The more Audra saw of Sigmar, the more she was drawn to him. It was as if she’d waited all those lonely years for him to come back into her life. Who else but Sigmar could possibly understand who she was?
Audra and Gertruda were tasked with beginning the training with instruction in grappling. The arrogant smiles soon left the men’s faces when they found themselves flat on their backs after being slammed to the ground by one or other of the women. Audra silently thanked the German mercenary who’d taught her and her comrades in Kievan Rus.
As the days progressed the men became more proficient with chokeholds, joint locks, elbow strikes and the various other unarmed combat moves Audra demonstrated.
She basked in the glow of admiration in Sigmar’s eyes and took a perverse delight in outmanoeuvring him. She admired his ability to take being bested by a woman in his stride. In fact he seemed to enjoy it. Wrestling with him was at once exhilarating and frustrating.
After a sennight, The Dodeka welcomed with unbridled jubilation the news they were to be billeted in Canute’s villa. Ostensibly the reason for the move was to provide increased training space since the next step was to learn mounted grappling.
However, Sigmar confided to Audra the king’s desire to reinforce the belief the company had been formed as his personal bodyguard. “The fewer who know our other purpose, the better,” he whispered.
After the uncomfortable conference with the three newly appointed governors, she hadn’t raised questions, though she had many. But she trusted in his leadership.
“It will be more comfortable at the villa,” he assured her.
“I’ll miss the spring,” she admitted, not knowing what else to say.
He glanced around the bunkhouse. “Everyone is busy packing. We could slip away to the waterfall. Reminisce. Mayhap steal another kiss.”
His conspiratorial wink convinced her. She was confident even her father didn’t notice them leave. He’d managed to embroil himself in an argument between Seslav and Sophia. Several of the men were helping Praxia take down the curtains.
Once they reached the bushes, Sigmar took her hand and led her to the spring. The thrill of adventure they’d known as children swirled in her belly and she was breathless by the time they stood side by side, close enough to the cascading water to feel the spray.
The crisp freshness of the damp air emboldened her. She stared into the waterfall. “The last time we were here together, I was tempted to ask you to remove your clothes.”
He laughed and put his hands on her hips. “So it would be like when we were children?” he asked.
Did she dare? She shook her head. “Nej. I wanted to see you naked.”
He tightened his grip. She was glad of it lest her trembling legs fail and she end up in the water, but then he took a step back. She glanced up, afraid of what she might see.
His crooked smile was reassuring but her heart raced when he began to unfasten his gambeson. She swallowed hard as he shrugged off the padded garment, peeled his shirt over his head then spread his arms wide.
She stood transfixed. Tumbling into the shallow pool was suddenly the least of her concerns.
“Do you like what you see, Audra?” he asked seductively.
His deep voice echoed in her belly but it was the bluebells inked into his skin that cocooned her heart. Unbidden tears trickled down her cheeks.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, taking her into his embrace. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I would never use my strength against you.”
Shaking her head, she touched her lips to the tattoo, savoring the warmth of his skin. “You remembered,” she murmured against him, barely able to form the words.
He looked down. “How could I forget?”
She put her hands on his chest, seeking his strength, then unfastened her gambeson and the linen shirt beneath it. She didn’t look at him as she bared her breasts to his gaze, but before she knew it he was kissing the wildflower tattooed above her heart. She stood on tiptoe and entwined her arms around his neck, desire spiralling through every part of her body.
“Min lille en,” he rasped.
She was lost in a fog of sensation as he suckled her nipples, one after the other. Then he suddenly stepped away. She almost did fall into the pool when he removed his leggings and kicked them aside. She had seen male parts before—it was inevitable living with men in military camps—but she’d never set eyes on anything as proudly male as the rigid lance that protruded from his body.
Her mouth fell open.
“Last one in the waterfall,” he teased, loping into the cascading curtain.
Without a second thought she responded as she had all those years ago. She was naked in seconds, standing in his arms, shivering beneath the freezing water.
But there was nothing innocent about their embrace as he nestled his male part between her legs. “I pledge myself to you, Audra,” he growled. “Pledge to me now, and we’ll leave this place as man and wife.”
Too much blood.
Too many obstacles.
Too much danger and uncertainty ahead.
“I pledged to you the day I got the tattoo,” she said through chattering teeth. “I have always been yours.”
*
The pledge he and Audra had made to each other would have meant they were married, if they were still in Jomsborg. It was the Danish custom, the more danico. Sigmar thirsted to plunge his manhood into Audra’s sheath and make her his wife in every way.
But the first time he made love to her, it would be in a bed, amid luxurious furs. And he’d prefer his teeth not be chattering!
He crushed her to his body. “You are my wife, Audra, and I will protect you with my life.”
She clung to him. “I am filled with wanton feelings for you, husband,” she rasped.
“As I want you, which you can plainly tell,” he replied. “But not here. And when I take you it will be with your father’s blessing.”
“He’ll never agree,” she lamented with a shudder.
He scooped her up and carried her out to the rocks. They shivered, skin to skin in the crisp air. “He will have no choice,” he insisted, uncertain how he knew his prediction would come true. “I will speak to the king.”
He set her down on her feet, retrieved his shirt and used it to wipe the water from her body. “You are very beautiful,” he whispered, pecking a last kiss on each nipple. His arousal stirred anew when she arched her back and raked her fingers through wet hair, but she picked up her clothing and started to dress. “It will be obvious we’ve been in the water,” she said.
“With any luck, the others will have set off,” he replied, shrugging his wet body into his gambeson with some difficulty. “I told them to leave for the villa as soon as they were ready. You go first when you’re dressed. It might take me a minute or two to
get these leggings back on.”
She eyed his erection with a coy smile. “Because you’re wet?”
He returned the smile. “Something like that, naughty girl,” he replied.
Poisons
The Dodeka had been at the villa for a month. They practised mounted grappling and many more methods of armed and unarmed combat. Audra’s skill with a sword improved under Sigmar’s tutelage. Of all the military arts, swordplay was her least favorite, but he showed her how to use her size and speed to advantage.
The weather had warmed with the approach of spring. The separate quarters for men and women made it easier for Sigmar and Audra to keep their hand-fasting a secret, but intensified her longing to be with him.
The dagger wasn’t Gertruda’s only forte. She was the company’s expert in poisons, a method of murder that sent shivers up Audra’s spine, but Sigmar readily agreed it was a weapon The Dodeka should have in their arsenal. Almost too readily. She wondered again about the mysterious death of Edmund Ironside.
Canute was of the same mind, particularly if certain Wessex noblemen had to be dispatched discreetly. He insisted on being present and listened with rapt attention when Gertruda explained the properties and uses of the deadly poisons she always carried in a special pocket sewn inside her gambeson.
The wide-eyed admiration on the men’s faces seemed to indicate they were impressed with what they had learned, but Gertruda concluded her lesson with a warning. “Sire, I have shown all of you how to extract wolfsbane, arsenic and cyanide, but I strongly urge you not to attempt to make these toxins yourselves.”
Canute nodded. “Your skill is doubtless the fruit of many years of careful experimentation, and I agree a man would be foolish to dabble with such dangerous substances.” He nodded briefly at Sigmar. “Unless of course he is already familiar with them. It is gratifying to know we have your expertise to draw upon.”
Audra was surprised when the king’s praise caused Gertruda to blush. “My father was my teacher,” she said sheepishly.
The woman had never mentioned her father before and Audra deemed it an odd thing for a man to teach his daughter about poisons, although Fingal had pushed Audra to become a warrior. However, it heightened the mystery surrounding the one person she considered a friend.
Canute slapped his thigh. “Now. An announcement. The local laborers who have been working on the heating system for the Roman baths have finally fathomed how it works and the repairs are finished.”
The Dodeka had been given a tour of the villa upon first arriving and the huge baths complex had been a source of conversation ever since. The king had expressed his determination to breathe new life into the hypocaust system that had lain unused for several hundred years. He held up a hand for silence when jubilant cheers greeted his declaration. “This night, after we have supped, all of you are invited to join Elfgifu and the children and myself in the baths. Like the Romans who lived in this magnificent dwelling we will enjoy all it has to offer.”
With that he left after signalling Sigmar to follow.
Chatting excitedly about the evening ahead, everyone returned to the restored outbuilding that had been converted to a barracks. All except Audra’s father. He grasped her arm. “I forbid you to go,” he hissed. “I see how you lust for Alvarsen.”
She pulled her arm from his grasp, annoyed by the curious glances of the others. “What do you fear I will do, Fader, fornicate in front of a king?”
He glowered. “You cannot go.”
“Not only will I go, but you will too.”
“I refuse to disrobe in front of—”
It was as if it suddenly dawned on him he would be naked in front of his daughter. She put a reassuring hand on his arm. “Everyone will be naked, even your king. It was the Roman way. Canute will expect you to be there. You don’t wish to disappoint him.”
His sulk deepened. She hastened away and left him to ponder his decision.
*
As Sigmar anticipated, Canute had drawn him aside to discuss Streona. He’d sensed the king’s growing distrust.
“I have invited him to London for Easter,” Canute said in hushed tones as they strolled along one of the long hallways of the villa. “His brothers Ethelmar and Britric are summoned too. I don’t trust them.”
Sigmar had long suspected Streona. “He is married to Ethelred’s daughter, Sire. Mayhap his loyalty lies with the House of Wessex.”
Canute stroked his beard. “I suppose you’re wondering why I left Mercia in his hands?”
Sigmar worried this might be a test. “His changing sides did swing the war in your favor.”
Canute nodded. “Ja, true, as Torkild has pointed out. Even after our victory at the Battle of Assandun I wasn’t completely sure if Streona abandoned Ethelred or if he simply left the field.”
Resentment of Torkild den Høge rose in Sigmar’s throat. As well as being the man who’d banished him, he was another who changed sides when it suited.
Canute carried on. “The trouble is he’s switched allegiance too often, but worse still, he continues to appropriate church lands and funds for himself, counter to my orders. Holding on to this throne will be difficult if we alienate the Church. I need someone in Mercia who is more compliant.”
“So when the three come at Easter,” Sigmar began.
“See to it,” Canute replied. “Edmund Ironside was Streona’s natural lord, the English his own people, yet he betrayed them both. What loyalty will he have for Danes?”
Sigmar bowed, expecting the king to dismiss him. Easter was but a few sennights away. Preparations would have to be made, plans laid, all with the utmost secrecy. Streona might suspect danger lay in the summons; no point heightening his fears, putting him more on guard.
“You know of the poet Gunnlaug?” Canute asked unexpectedly.
Sigmar frowned. “The Norseman who performed for Ethelred?”
Canute slapped him hard on the back. “Ja!” he replied. “Eyes cannot hide a woman’s love for a man.”
Sigmar supposed this was a line from the obscure poet’s writings and wondered where the king’s thoughts were leading. “It’s evident when one looks at my Lady Elfgifu—”
Canute came to an abrupt halt. “I’m not talking about Elfgifu,” he said between gritted teeth. “I speak of Audra. She’s besotted with you.”
Sigmar’s heart lifted at the news Audra’s love for him was obvious to all, but he had no notion of the king’s feelings towards fraternization in the ranks. He decided honesty was the best policy. Canute had an eerie knack of knowing when he was being lied to. “We are hand-fasted,” he admitted.
“Thought as much,” the king replied. “You’re as besotted as she is, as I suspected before.”
The rancor in Canute’s voice gave him pause. “I assure you, Sire, our union will only enhance our effectiveness.”
Canute narrowed his eyes. “However, it will cause problems with Andreassen. Mayhap we should consign him to another unit.”
This was the easy way. Canute had the power to send Andreassen to the outer reaches of his ever widening kingdom if he wished. Sigmar shifted his weight uneasily. “For as long as he stands between me and Audra, the feud holds us in its grip. I want him to bless our union for the sake of our children.”
Canute ran his thumb along his bottom lip. “A tall order. I wish you luck with that. But keep an eye on him.”
“That’s why I want him close,” Sigmar replied.
Canute resumed his walk then halted again. “I prefer your secret remain between the three of us until our enemies are disposed of.”
Sigmar’s heart fell, but it was the king’s wish. “It will be so,” he declared.
“Good,” Canute replied. “Now go plan an assassination with your wife.”
The Baths
Senior thralls led Audra, Vasha and Gertruda to a changing room located off the wide marble-walled hallway on the way to the baths. Elfgifu was already there, garbed in a luxurious white robe that
reminded Audra of images she had seen of ancient Romans. “For you,” Canute’s wife explained as they were each handed a similar robe.
Gertruda’s eyes betrayed the same relief Audra felt that they wouldn’t be expected to enter the baths naked.
They changed quickly while Elfgifu pointed out that the tiles beneath their feet were warmed by an underfloor heating system called a hypocaust.
Audra had seen similar Roman achievements in Kievan Rus, but refrained from interrupting their hostess. However, she was completely taken aback when they entered the complex housing the baths. She’d seen it briefly once before, but now it was cleaner and filled with light.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Canute shouted, hurrying towards them from the other end of the domed chamber, his voice almost drowned out by water spurting from the mouths of mythical sea creatures cavorting in elaborate fountains.
He and the other men wore the same white robes, easing another of Audra’s fears. Her heart skipped a beat when she caught sight of Sigmar sitting on the low wall at the base of one of the fountains. Forearms resting on thighs spread wide, he looked like a golden god in his toga. His smile heated her blood.
Who needs a hypocaust?
Canute embarked on an explanation of the workings of the baths, his voice so full of pride one might have thought he’d constructed them himself. “As well as the main pool, there are two sweat rooms, one designed I believe to be wet and the other dry, and chambers that were probably used for exercise. No half measures for the Romans.”
Audra had to agree. Though the villa hadn’t been used for centuries, the opulence was staggering.
Canute pointed to the large pool of dark water in the centre of the chamber. “It appears black because of the tiles, but the water is fresh. We discovered a reservoir and an aqueduct in the fields behind the villa. The laborers repaired the lead boilers and heated the water.”
Without warning he shrugged off the robe and jumped into the water. Everyone stared. It had happened so quickly Audra couldn’t have said if the king’s manhood was…
Sirens of the Northern Seas: A Viking Romance Collection Page 14