The Viking’s Captive Princess

by Michelle Styles

  ‘But surely Ragnfast?’

  ‘They left before the warriors came, the both of them for Ranhiem and the Storting. Ragnfast decided that the omens were better for going by the mountains rather than the sea. Dagmar was determined to rescue you. She kept on and on to Ragnfast about it until he agreed to go and to take her with him. She is going to plead with your uncle for your safe return.’

  ‘But where are his men?’

  ‘He took too many. He thought no one would attack us. A few days after they left, Sven spotted the ships, we went out to greet Sigmund’s men as we have always done and…’

  Thyre’s knees went weak and relief rushed through her. Ragnfast and Dagmar had missed everything.

  Ragnfast would never have left if he thought his hall or people were in danger. Three years ago when the barn burnt after a lamp was turned over, he had refused to go to the Storting as the omens were not correct. Dagmar had thought to rescue her from the Viken. Thyre had to smile at the irony. She had been so concerned about rescuing them that she had never considered Dagmar would attempt to do the same.

  Her breath froze as Hilde’s other words sunk in. This was no random attack. Dagmar and Ragnfast even now were walking into a trap. Somehow, there had to be a way of warning them.

  ‘Did everyone else get to safety?’ Ivar asked.

  ‘Mostly.’ Hilde swept into a curtsy. ‘They knew what to do, thanks to Thyre. All these years, we joked about how you made us practise, my lady. How we knew how to go to our hiding places with our eyes shut. And how it would never happen.’ Hilde’s face crumpled and tears spilled over her dirty face. ‘But it did.’

  Thyre reached out a hand and Hilde’s gripped hers. No words were necessary. For a long time, they stood there, looking at the ruins. ‘The hall will be rebuilt. Better. Ragnfast always said that he wanted to replace that raven gable on the right.’

  ‘If you say so, my lady.’

  ‘Thyre,’ Ivar rumbled in her ear. Thyre gave into temptation and laid her head against Ivar’s broad chest, drawing comfort from the steady thump of his heart. It seemed incredible that after all they had been through together life seemed easier just because he was standing next to her, but she also knew that he must not guess her feelings. She took a deep breath and stepped away from him. His arms fell to his sides. ‘Do you know where Ragnfast is?’

  ‘Ragnfast and Dagmar are safe. Or at least as safe as they can be. They are not lying in that pyre. They are on their way to the Storting. Ragnfast wanted to go overland so they missed Sigmund’s dragon boats. Dagmar is determined to rescue me. But, Ivar, they are heading into a trap.’

  ‘Why did the hall burn? Has the woman told you that?’

  ‘Warriors came…Sigmund’s men.’ Hilde stepped forwards. ‘They told a story about Ragnfast being disloyal to the king and the Storting giving its permission. But Ragnfast is the king’s brother-in-law. King Mysing knows he is loyal.’

  ‘Did they burn the hall straight away?’ Ivar asked. ‘How many lost their lives because of this attack?’

  ‘Some of us thought that they would go away, contenting themselves with a few pigs and sheep, a bit of grain.’ Hilde paused and wiped her eyes with the corner of her dirty apron dress. ‘But Sven the forester, he wanted to prove that Ragnfast was wrong to reject his suit. He wanted to show that he too could be a warrior. I expect he thought if he saved the steading, then Ragnfast would agree to let Dagmar marry him.’

  Thyre closed her eyes, and braced her body for what must come next. Even now, she could clearly picture Dagmar’s face when she first confided how wonderful Sven was and how much she longed for their life together.

  Ivar’s arm reached for her again. She was grateful that he was willing to offer his support but she hated her need for it. She shook off his arm and stood alone, trying to control the trembling in her stomach. ‘What did Sven do?’

  ‘He took Ragnfast’s second sword from its hiding place. He defied the Ranriken captain. And he told him that he was dishonouring the house of an important jaarl, a jaarl who enjoyed the king’s protection.’

  ‘Where is Sven now?’ Ivar asked, interrupting the woman’s flow. ‘What has happened to him?’

  ‘In Valhalla. They made him into a blood eagle as a warning to the others who might protest. Then they torched the hall and killed all they could find…for sport.’ Hilde spat on the ground. ‘Ragnfast should not have left us without protection. Sven had no chance. He loved trees, not swords. All he wanted to do was marry Dagmar. His only crime was to fall in love with the wrong person.’

  ‘Was a funeral pyre lit for him?’ Thyre asked. ‘Did anyone compose a funeral poem?’

  ‘It has been done, my lady.’ Hilde bowed her head. ‘I made sure of it. The women and I made sure of it for all the men. After the warriors left. The dead need to be honoured.’

  ‘He needs to be honoured. Dagmar…Dagmar would want it to be done.’ Thyre regarded the smouldering hall. This was more than a simple raid; this was a lesson administered, retribution for her killing of Sigmund. How would her uncle greet Dagmar and Ragnfast? Would he be willing to accuse Ragnfast of disloyalty then?

  ‘Will they come back, my lady?’

  ‘I do not know,’ Thyre replied slowly, dragging her thoughts away from the future. ‘I sincerely hope not.’

  ‘You will have protection now, Viken protection. No matter what happens, you will not be left without warriors again,’ Ivar declared. ‘This bay is vital to both countries.’

  ‘You are very good,’ Hilde said, falling to her knees and kissing Ivar’s outstretched hand.

  Ivar lifted Hilde to standing and spoke to her in soothing tones about what would be done and where the survivors were.

  ‘This steading belongs to Ragnfast the Steadfast. It is not mine or yours to give away.’

  Ivar’s lips thinned to a white line and the breeze blew his hair. He stared down at her for a long heartbeat, but Thyre stared back at him.

  ‘Then he should have protected it better. It is far too valuable. It cannot fall into the wrong hands, men who would use it against the Viken. I claim it for Viken now. Who will fight me for it?’

  Thyre glared up at him. When was her punishment going to end? Must everyone who was dear to her lose everything? ‘It does not need a Viken to defend it. Ragnfast’s arm has been strong…’

  ‘And Ranrike has served it well? Ragnfast gave his allegiance to Ranrike and this is how King Mysing repaid him. Who will your uncle send next?’ Ivar lifted a brow. He inclined his head towards where the other Viken warriors were landing. ‘Thrand is in need of land. Such a place would suit him admirably. He can be the new jaarl of Eastern Viken.’

  ‘This is what this felag is about—conquering Ranrike?’ Thyre stared at Ivar in disbelief. ‘It is no wonder that King Thorkell kept it from me. I thought you were supposed to be aiding my family.’

  ‘Are you suggesting that we sail on and leave these people as prey to any wandering warship? Haven’t they suffered enough?’ His eyes glowed with blue flames. ‘With you, Thyre, I am always the villain.’

  ‘Not always,’ Thyre admitted.

  ‘It is good to hear.’ He gestured towards the ruins. ‘Thyre, the hall can be rebuilt, but things can never go back to the way they were before. Your life here is finished.’

  ‘That remains to be seen. No one can predict the future.’ Thyre tilted her chin upwards.

  She dampened the sudden longing that sprang up within her. What was between them was over, strangled. They could never be friends and she knew that she wanted much more than friendship.

  She had to be practical and think of others. Ragnfast would never be able to regain this land without help. ‘Dagmar will inherit this land. Thrand is unmarried. It is possible that Ragnfast will agree to this solution…if we can find him…before…before…I want to avoid bloodshed, Ivar.’

  ‘Matchmaking, wife?’ Ivar’s voice was laced with an irony. ‘That is an occupation fraught with danger. It is rarely
advisable to force a marriage.’

  Thyre’s heart soared at the word ‘wife’ and then plummeted. She picked up Beygul again and buried her nose into the soft fur to cover her confusion. ‘Despite unpromising beginnings, some arranged matches thrive.’

  ‘Never a truer word was spoken. But you cannot be sure which ones will. It takes two people to make a marriage.’

  The words stabbed in her heart.

  ‘It is best to allow these things to develop naturally then, but Dagmar always did have an eye for broad shoulders and a slender waist.’

  Ivar gave a shout of laughter and she knew the danger had passed. ‘It is wonderful to know that women are interested in such things even at times like these. But you need to stop organising lives. You will become worse than Asa.’

  ‘If I consider the future, then I can forget about this.’ She gestured towards the hall, ignoring the Asa comment. She would never be worse than that woman.

  ‘Thyre, sometimes there is only so much we can do. A match between Thrand and Dagmar would solve a number of problems, but it must come from them…in time. Thrand will start rebuilding the hall in a few days. He will need your expertise to know where the seasoned wood is. When Ragnfast returns, then they can negotiate payment.’

  ‘They did not sail here straight from the battle where I killed Sigmund,’ Thyre said, looking up at the sky. He could not leave her here with Thrand, not with so much unsettled. She had to be with him.

  ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘Our encounter was weeks ago. The embers remain warm. The king had to have ordered this. No mere captain would have dared attack a jaarl’s steading. Allow me to come to Ranhiem with you and explain the situation to Ragnfast. Jaarls in the Storting listen to him. My uncle has never dared move against him in the Storting.’

  ‘What can you do there?’ Ivar laced his fingers through hers. He brought them up to his mouth and her heart skipped a beat. ‘You should stay here where you are safe.’

  She disentangled her fingers. ‘My safety is no longer your concern. We agreed that. You were to take me to Ragnfast. The bargain is not yet complete.’

  Ivar’s face drained of warmth. ‘I remember my promise.’

  ‘Then I will hold you to it.’ Thyre took a step backwards. Hopefully he would think she was only concerned about Ragnfast, rather than the truth—she needed to be with him.

  For a long time, Ivar was silent. ‘I could hardly leave you here. The amount of trouble you could get into frightens me.’

  ‘I will be good.’ Thyre pressed her hands together. He had to take her with him. She could help.

  ‘Trouble is something that follows you about, Thyre, like a lap-dog.’

  ‘I have noticed that you are no stranger to it either.’

  ‘I am a trained warrior. You are my wife.’

  ‘And I believe that I have proved my worth to the felag,’ Thyre said. ‘I can row without complaining.’

  A dimple flashed in his cheek and Thyre knew she had won. ‘I believe you have done enough rowing. Thrand will be able to spare one of his warriors.’

  ‘But you will take me. I must be there.’ She hesitated. ‘I will urge King Mysing to listen. We share a common blood.’

  ‘You can come, but, Thyre, if there is any fighting, I want you to stay in the background. What happened between you and Sigmund could never happen again. And you must obey me in this.’

  ‘Thank you, Ivar.’ Thyre clasped his hand and was amazed at its icy coldness. ‘I, too, keep my promises.’

  ‘You may have cause to hate me, Thyre.’ His eyes crinkled at the corners and Thyre’s heart turned over. ‘Most women would run from such a proposition.’

  ‘I am not most women.’

  ‘That is an understatement.’

  Thyre took a bite of the lightly cooked trout. She had forgotten how good fish could taste. They had departed from the burnt-out steading a day ago and had pulled the boats up in a small deserted bay a short row from Ranhiem where Ivar and his men had stopped on their outward journey to Birka. Thyre tried to put the stench of the burning wood behind her and not to think about what lay ahead of her.

  Thrand and his warriors had remained behind, but the others had sailed on. Ivar had been polite but distant.

  ‘I am impressed with your cooking skills.’

  ‘A man needs to know how to survive,’ Ivar commented, giving a careless shrug, but Thyre could see the flash of pleasure flicker over his features. It seemed incredible that her emotions should be so attuned to his. She wanted him to be happy. And she could feel the moments slipping away from them. He rubbed his hands together and held them over the fire.

  ‘It will be another day until we reach Ranhiem. Once we arrive, you must stay on the ship where you will be safe. Women have no place in war.’

  ‘Ragnfast will trust you more if I am with you.’ Thyre hugged her knees. ‘He values my counsel. And it is not war yet. It is politics, and that is different.’

  ‘It is a pity Thyre was not born a man,’ Erik the Black said. ‘What a king she would have made.’

  ‘I am very grateful that Thyre is a woman,’ Ivar replied.

  The full force of his blue gaze slammed into Thyre. A warm curl wound around her insides and she wondered how she’d survive without him.

  Erik the Black started to say something, but Ivar held up his hand, silencing him. ‘Someone is coming. I can hear horses.’

  The Viken stood up as one and drew their swords, forming an arc in front of the boats. Ivar kicked sand over the fire, plunging them into the dusky gloom.

  Thyre’s muscles became taut. To have come so far, and now this. Another battle.

  ‘Do you think anyone lit the beacon, Thyre?’ Ivar asked.

  ‘No,’ Thyre replied, stung that he could even think anyone at the steading would play him false. ‘Who would want Sigmund’s men to return? The anger towards him and the king is great. Ragnfast is well respected. All the foresters and farmers I met rained curses down on my uncle Mysing’s head.’

  ‘I will take your word for it. Forgive me for even asking, Thyre.’

  ‘I do know my people.’ Thyre’s insides twisted. Against her will, she loved Ivar more now than when they had departed Kaupang. He was exactly the sort of warrior she had always dreamt of marrying. She had been wrong about him not respecting her. His actions showed that. They had both made mistakes.

  A light voice floated on the breeze, laughing about something. ‘It’s Dagmar. She is alive and well and I am certain that I heard Ragnfast.’

  Ivar lifted his hand and the shields were lowered. ‘Are you certain?’

  ‘She is my sister.’ Thyre pressed her hand against her mouth. The time had come to part and she desperately hoped she would be strong. He must not guess her true desires. ‘You have kept your word, Ivar. You brought me to Ragnfast before we reached my uncle’s court. Our bargain has been fulfilled. I will leave the felag now.’

  ‘Ragnfast will need to know about the destruction of his estate, and he will have to make a choice.’ Ivar gave no sign that he had heard her. ‘Does he stand with me and Viken or does he stand with a cowardly king who makes war against the people he swore to protect?’

  ‘I will tell Ragnfast. If I explain about the steading, he will support you.’ Thyre kept her back straight. She wanted to speak about them, and not Ragnfast, but their bargain stood between them.

  ‘You would do that?’

  ‘It is no more than needs to be done. This feud between the Ranriken and the Viken needs to end. Ranrike needs a strong leader, one who is willing to take to the seas and trade, instead of cowardly attacking passing ships.’ Thyre blinked rapidly and cleared her throat before continuing. ‘I have no idea who it could be. Ragnfast may have an idea. But it must be someone of the royal house of Ranrike.’

  ‘Thyre…’

  Thyre clenched her fingers around her thumbs. She had her pride. ‘I have learned many lessons, Ivar, and I am grateful. I will keep to my part
of the bargain. Our marriage is at an end, even though I deem it an honour and privilege to have been married to a man such as you.’

  ‘In another time and place, we will speak about our marriage. But I need to see to our visitors.’

  Thyre closed her mouth with a snap. The infuriating man would not even allow her to take her leave properly.

  Ivar quickly wrapped some moss and grass around a branch and stuck it into the warm embers. A flare arose, illuminating the glade, showing strange elongated shadows.

  ‘Who goes there?’ Ragnfast’s voice called out.

  ‘Travellers with news,’ Ivar answered. ‘Important news for Ragnfast the Steadfast.’

  ‘Is that you, Ivar Gunnarson? This is indeed a surprise.’ The soft hiss of swords being withdrawn from hilts filled the air. ‘What have you done with my stepdaughter?’

  ‘Ragnfast, I am here with Ivar Gunnarson,’ Thyre called out before Ivar could make a mess of his words. Ragnfast must be prevented from drawing his sword or blood would be shed. ‘We come to save your life.’

  ‘They come to bring war. It is the Viken way.’ Ragnfast dismounted and drew his sword. In the starlight, his men-at-arms’ swords gleamed. ‘Once I was weak. I should have fought you, Viken, when you threatened Thyre. You dishonoured my stepdaughter.’

  Behind her, Thyre knew the Viken would be longing to draw their weapons and what had started peacefully would end in destruction, unless she took charge.

  ‘King Thorkell, my father, has no wish for war with the Ranrike,’ Thyre said. ‘He never has. He let you and my mother live in peace. He sends greetings to you, Ragnfast the Steadfast, and remembers the time you fought together.’

  ‘You have met him? And lived?’ Ragnfast lowered his sword.

  ‘He acknowledged me without hesitation.’ Thyre kept her words measured. ‘You must listen before you act. Your life is in danger—’

  ‘Ragnfast, your hall has been burnt,’ Ivar said, interrupting her speech. ‘Sigmund Sigmundson’s men burnt it after they received permission from your king. Sven the forester died, defending it. The Ranriken made him a blood eagle. There were no warriors when we landed. No remains except blood, ash and charred timber.’