The Viking’s Captive Princess

by Michelle Styles

  Instantly the remaining crew cheered. The whole boat came to life as the warriors bustled about and grabbed the oars. A number of places sat empty. Ivar thought of each man. Every family would share in the bounty from the venture, but he wished the cost had not been so high. Some day, he would avenge their deaths, but today, today was a day for rejoicing.

  Against the odds, they had made it home. He had proved that the passage was far from being cursed, but it was patrolled by Ranrike and Sigmundson and that menace would have to be considered.

  ‘What is going on?’ Thyre asked from where she sat. She turned her head slightly, revealing her long white neck. Ivar never tired of watching her. He wondered who her father was, but that was the least of his concerns. Certainly the father had never gone looking for her. Nor had her mother ever sent her. Perhaps he did not acknowledge her, or did not know. She was his now and he would fight any man who said differently. Once things were more settled, he would make discreet enquires, starting with Bose the Dark.

  ‘Kaupang is on the horizon. We will row in. The shoals are tricky for a sail.’

  ‘I thought there were not enough to row this boat.’

  ‘Not over a long distance, but it is safer to row than to sail in the harbour.’

  ‘Then I shall row as well.’ Thyre sat down opposite and grabbed an oar.

  ‘Women do not row,’ Ivar said.

  ‘Women do not kill jaarls either, but I seem to recall doing it.’

  Ivar made a non-committal grunt, but allowed her to take an oar. Carefully, he slowed the tempo down. Thyre deserved her moment of triumph and if she wanted to celebrate by rowing, then they would match her speed.

  ‘They will have to write a saga about this voyage,’ Asger declared as he began to row.

  ‘Your first voyage and already thinking of sagas.’ Ivar gave a laugh. ‘My sister will barely recognise this battle-hardened warrior as her son.’

  ‘I never finished her comb.’

  ‘Your mother will be pleased to see you,’ Thyre said, her hands only lightly resting on the oar. ‘You are more important than any comb.’

  ‘I suppose.’ Asger shrugged.

  Ivar turned his attention back to the shoreline and cursed under his breath. Amongst the multitude of ships in the harbour, the Ranriken ship was pulled on shore. Erik the Black must have navigated the ship with a great deal of accuracy and rushed home to secure their freedom. But whatever happened, they could not be more than half a day behind. He wished now that he had risked the full sail. But he looked forward to the astonishment on the Ranriken faces when they realised that their ship now belonged to him.

  ‘There is a crowd on shore!’ Asger called out from where he was stationed on the prow.

  ‘I see them!’

  ‘I wonder what the Ranrike will think of our story. I bet they never expected to be bested by a woman!’ Asger shouted, warming to his theme.

  ‘I want you to keep silent about Thyre’s role until I tell you. You are no skald, Asger. People do not need to know the story.’

  Thyre tried to concentrate on the buildings and forget Ivar’s words. She doubted if she had ever seen so many people in one place at one time. Ragnfast had always steadfastly refused to take her to Ranhiem, but she knew from her mother’s stories that Kaupang surpassed the meagre Ranrike capital. It had a prosperous air. She had given up trying to decipher where the ships were from. Some she could see must come from the kingdom of the Franks and others from Charlemagne, but the vast majority were the Viken’s fabled fleet.

  ‘The jaarl Ivar Gunnarson lies imprisoned in Ranhiem.’ Erik the Black’s voice floated over the harbour. ‘Who will be with me? Who will bring the ransom?’

  ‘Who will attack the Ranrike?’ someone called.

  ‘I gave my bond. They will kill him if we go into Ranhiem with shields raised. Ivar Gunnarson has brought much prosperity to Viken. He needs our help.’

  ‘But did Ivar make it to Birka and Permia? Have the Ranrike taken possession of all the spices and silks?’

  ‘He should have taken more ships!’

  ‘There is a curse on that strait! Ivar Gunnarson should never have taunted the gods.’

  ‘Erik the Black, you have little faith in me.’ Ivar’s voice resounded across the water. ‘You should know that I never surrender and I remain undefeated. You should have stayed aboard the Sea Witch and joined in the fun.’

  The entire crowd drew its breath. People started racing down towards the shoreline. Two large Viken jumped in the water, heedless of their fine clothes, and waded out to the boat.

  ‘Ivar, what has happened?’

  ‘Sigmund was defeated,’ Ivar said with little emotion. ‘I had help in the shape of this woman.’

  Both men stopped. Their eyes immediately turned towards where she sat at the oar. Thyre put her hands on her lap. Out in the ocean, it had seemed easy to give up her apron dress and even to row. She felt part of the felag, but now they were here, in Kaupang, everything was different. She was alone and dressed only in her shift. Her other apron dresses were at the bottom of the ocean. Would Ivar supply her with new ones? Or would she have to beg? She refused to beg. She would find a way to get around him. It was merely a matter of dropping hints and making sure that he understood the consequences. It was how her mother had taught her to manage Ragnfast and it worked.

  She crossed her arms and hoped no one would say anything about the indecency of her costume.

  ‘You have a woman on board.’

  ‘She is my concubine,’ Ivar growled. ‘And you should talk, Haakon. You have never had any qualms about having a woman on board ship.’

  ‘Annis has never pulled the oars,’ the dark-haired one replied with a scowl. ‘I never forced her to do that.’

  ‘It was Thyre’s choice. Her quick thinking also kept the mast from splitting. Otherwise, we might have never arrived.’

  ‘A concubine? From Birka?’ the dark blonde one asked.

  ‘I am from Ranrike,’ Thyre said, using her firmest voice. ‘I was involved in the fighting.’

  Both jaarls burst out laughing. ‘And, Ivar, you always said that you wanted a gentle woman, just like Edda. Biddable and not inclined towards a cross word. It appears you have seen sense after all.’

  Edda. She saw a muscle jump in Ivar’s jaw. The name held significance. His late wife? She swallowed hard and tried not to feel jealous.

  ‘Thyre is my concubine, not my wife. She was wounded in the battle. Now if you will let me get ashore, there is much I must discuss with Thorkell.’

  ‘You will have to wait,’ Vikar said. ‘Thorkell is off hunting moose. He has a new elkhound from Haakon’s latest litter and is determined to trial him.’

  ‘When is he expected back?’

  Thyre held her breath. She was not ready to meet King Thorkell yet. What could she say to him? How could she explain? She noticed that neither Vikar nor Haakon had asked her if she was related to the Ranriken Swan Princess. She had prepared a little speech, but it appeared unnecessary. Would Ivar tell them?

  ‘A few days. The Storting will start on Freya’s day. He will be back to preside then.’

  ‘Ivar Gunnarson,’ a male voice resounded over the water, ‘your queen wishes to greet you.’

  ‘Did you bring the spices she so desired?’ Haakon asked.

  ‘I kept my promise,’ Ivar said.

  Thyre looked out over the water and saw the silver blondeness of the queen, standing splendidly dressed. Her stomach churned. Her father’s wife stood with malice shining from her pale blue eyes.

  ‘My shoulder pains me a great deal. You go on ahead and greet the queen,’ Thyre said, putting her hand to where Sigmund’s sword had sliced her flesh. The shoulder only niggled, but she needed a moment to compose her mind after the queen’s look of pure hatred. She would think of the right words. A woman could be dignified no matter what she was wearing or the state of her hair. It came from her inner self. Her mother had repeated the words many times over.
Now more than ever, Thyre wished her mother was standing next to her, telling her what to do and how to behave.

  ‘Haakon, is your wife at Kaupang?’

  ‘Yes, Annis is here for the start of the Storting. She demanded that we bring both children as well. A priest from Charlemagne’s court is supposed to be here, and she is determined to have them baptised.’

  ‘Thyre was injured in the battle. I have dressed the wound as best I could, but I would like Annis to have a look. Ever since I saw what she did to Thrand, I have held her work in the highest esteem.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I will go and inform Annis. She will be pleased to help.’

  ‘And, Vikar, I want you to take Thyre quietly off the ship. There is no need to expose her to all this.’ Ivar waved a hand towards the ever-growing crowd. ‘Her dress is—’

  Thyre stared at him. ‘Ivar!’

  ‘For once in your life, Thyre, obey me! You are my concubine, not my wife!’

  Both Vikar and Haakon burst out into laughter. Thyre crossed her arms. This time she would obey him, but somehow she was going to have to find a way to speak to King Thorkell on her own to stop this madness. Ragnfast and Dagmar, they were important. War with Ranrike would benefit no one. She had to remember them and the danger they were in and not that she suddenly wondered what it would be like to be Ivar’s wife.

  With Vikar’s help, she stumbled from the boat. Her legs could barely remember what firm land felt like and, with each step, the land appeared to pitch and roll.

  Off to her right, she heard Ivar addressing the crowd, explaining his story.

  She glanced up and saw again the silver blonde radiance of Queen Asa. Their eyes met and the queen’s expression turned ice cold. A chill went through Thyre and she knew she had made an enemy.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘This bandage will have to come off. I will be as gentle as I can, but it may hurt.’ The woman’s lilting voice filled Thyre’s ears as she stood in the middle of Ivar’s bedchamber. The chamber was not as well appointed as Ragnfast’s, but it had a certain amount of comfort. Thyre ran a hand over the silver wolf skin that lay proudly on top of the bed. Ivar’s boast had been far from idle. The fur proved it.

  Vikar had delivered her to Ivar’s house; then, within a few breaths, Haakon’s wife had arrived. Thyre watched her with curiosity. She was the captive from Northumbria, the one who had slain a berserker, if the saga was to be believed.

  ‘Can you keep still, please? I am trying to be as gentle as possible but I do need to see the wound.’

  ‘I understand.’ Thyre kept her body rigid as Annis started to undo Ivar’s makeshift bandage. As she promised, she was gentle, but moved with sure expertise.

  ‘It is better than I hoped. Ivar obviously took heed of my instructions.’ Annis probed the wound with her fingers. ‘It is healing well with no sign of infection.’

  ‘Is it true what Ivar said, that you have the power to heal?’

  The woman gave a musical laugh. ‘I have no idea about power. I have a small skill with herbs and God does the rest.’

  ‘God?’ Thyre started at the singular use of the term. ‘You mean like Thor or Ran.’

  ‘I am a Christian and believe in one God.’

  Thyre shook her head. Only one god? It made no sense. But she had no wish to offend as the woman was clearly skilled in healing. ‘I am sorry, but I have lived quietly. Ragnfast, my stepfather, might be interested in a god that can heal.’

  ‘It is a bit more complicated than that. Do not worry. After two years here, I am used to pagan ways.’ Annis gave a merry laugh and Thyre shifted, uncomfortably aware that she had made an error.

  ‘I hope I have not offended.’

  ‘Not at all. I dare say everything here is strange. I know it was when I first arrived. How did you come to be Ivar’s concubine? Did Ivar capture you? All of Kaupang will want to know. I suspect several skalds will be competing for the honour of composing the saga.’

  ‘All?’ Thyre took a step backwards. Her stomach knotted. Would any guess about her parentage? She wanted to keep it hidden until she had petitioned King Thorkell. He needed to hear the story from her lips. ‘It is a very boring tale, hardly worth bothering with. I am sure the skalds will concentrate on Ivar’s part—the journey out to Birka and the way he navigated the ship back to Viken.’

  ‘He was not expected to return—that is true. Everyone thought he was foolish to taunt the gods, but once again he is the hero of the hour. Ivar and his miraculous boat and seamanship. Thorkell will undoubtedly throw a feast in his honour. I understand from Haakon the boat has returned full of spices, silks and furs. Thankfully, Haakon thought to finance part of it. I look forward to a new silk gown.’

  Thyre’s heart skipped a beat. A feast for the returning heroes. Here was a golden opportunity to speak to the Viken king and to plead for Ragnfast and Dagmar’s rescue. If an expedition was organised, they might even arrive back there before Sigmund’s followers reached her uncle, King Mysing. ‘And will I be expected to attend?’

  Annis developed a sudden interest in putting away her herbs and ointments. ‘I have no idea about a welcome-home feast. It depends on the queen. If she goes, concubines will not be welcome. Otherwise, it would be up to Ivar. Personally, I am not overfond of the singing and the wild dancing. The Viken tend to sing rather loudly and very badly. And that is only their skalds.’

  Thyre gave a weak smile and tried not to concentrate on the word—concubine. She wanted to think of herself as free and independent, not as a concubine who was subject to the whims of her master. ‘I understand. I doubt I would have liked the court. Soon Ivar will take me off to his estate. It was just the feast I had wondered about.’

  Annis placed a warm hand on her shoulder. ‘I know Sela, Vikar’s wife, finds the customs of the court difficult. Perhaps you had best speak to her. She is here for the start of the Storting and has already been complaining about the strictures Asa requires of her ladies, but Vikar insisted she attend.’

  ‘I want to avoid making obvious mistakes…’

  ‘And do you have clothes? Your shift is only fit for rags.’

  ‘They went overboard.’ Thyre gave a little shrug. ‘Other things seemed to be more important.’

  To her relief, Annis did not pursue the subject.

  ‘I will send something over. Ivar, if he is like Haakon, will have no sense about clothes. Or that you might need them.’ Annis put some honey on Thyre’s wound and then put a clean cloth over it. ‘And now, I believe you need a draught to make you sleep. Tomorrow, I will inspect it and you can tell me the full tale of what happened.’

  ‘You asked to see me, my lady, the moment I returned.’ Ivar made a bow before the queen and then held out a little cedar box. ‘I bought the spices that I promised.’

  Asa clicked her fingers, dismissing the rest of the court. Ivar lifted his brow. His nerves were instantly alert. The last time they had spoken alone was after Edda’s death and she had informed him of whom she blamed for her favourite’s demise. They had agreed to differ. The queen rose from her chair.

  ‘I have been pondering your need for a wife. If you will recall, Thorkell and I spoke to you about this before you left. You are far too important a jaarl. You must make a wise and considered match, one that benefits the kingdom as well as your bed.’

  ‘And we decided that it was a subject best left until I returned as the prospects for the voyage’s success were not high.’ Ivar kept his tone measured. A twinge of guilt ran through him. Had the queen spent time on the matchmaking? He had not expected Asa to do much; now, with the advent of Thyre, the need for a wife vanished.

  ‘And now you have returned.’ Asa tapped her forefinger against the arm of her chair. ‘I have drawn up a list…’

  ‘I will have a look at the ladies when I have time, but there are other pressing matters at hand.’

  ‘I had wanted to make sure the most suitable served you at the welcome-home feast.’ Asa batted her lashes and a smu
g smile touched her lips. ‘A woman must think of such things and allow men to get about their business.’

  ‘There will be time to decide later.’ Ivar gritted his teeth. He had no wish to offend, but he would not be marrying. Thorkell would understand his decision, once he had met Thyre.

  ‘I understand you have brought a concubine home from the voyage. A dark-haired woman.’

  Ivar kept his face impassive. Now they came to the true reason why Asa had called him here—Thyre. What was the queen’s interest in his concubine? ‘News travels fast.’

  ‘Thorkell will never allow you to marry her.’ Asa’s pale eyes glittered with some quickly masked emotion. ‘He will insist on you marrying a woman of good breeding and character. And you must marry, Ivar.’

  ‘You know nothing about Thyre.’

  ‘I held your late wife in high esteem, Ivar. We both know I would have saved her if I could, if she had been at court where she belonged.’ Asa raised her hand imperiously. ‘I am merely offering an old friend some sage advice. Concubines have a way of leaving.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Ivar choked down his anger.

  Ivar knew that, despite Asa’s protests, she had had a hand in sending Annis away before Haakon had realised what was happening. After Annis had saved the king’s life, the queen had prevailed on him to free Annis and then she had put her on a ship bound for Northumbria. It was only through Annis’s quick thinking and her desire for justice that Haakon had been able to claim the woman he loved. The queen might have tried the trick once, but she would not try it again. Thyre was no high-born captive to be ransomed, but his concubine. And he would keep Thyre as his concubine as long as he desired it. He would not dishonour her or some unknown future wife by having two women at the same time. He refused to yield on this.

  ‘My sole concern is for the well being of your future.’ Asa batted her lashes.

  ‘Other than returning home from my voyage with a woman, what have I done to earn this lecture, my queen?’

  Asa gave a little shrug and toyed with the tassel of her kirtle. ‘I merely wanted to make sure you understood. Where did you say this woman, this Thyre, was from? Birka?’