Aric’s message to the merchants needed no elaboration, all except one of them putting up their hands while backing away. The man whose hand dripped blood was determined on compensation, holding it up for Aric to see and finding several oaths to hurl at Fearn, but grunting his satisfaction as Aric found two shining coins in his pouch to give him. Then, still gripping Fearn in one hand, he turned the group back towards the longship where the very situation she had wanted to avoid awaited them, with an extra element of ownership made even more apparent.
All the way through the crowds’ murmurs of approval, Aric marched Fearn, grim-faced and unrelenting in his hold on her, while she refused to protest even as she noticed the smiles and sniggers of those young blonde Danish women the merchants had mentioned. Clearly, they would not have minded being in her shoes, guessing where his possession might lead. Nor did Aric protest verbally at her foolishness as he led her up towards the high ramparts of the Aggersborg fortress, through the tunnelled gateway and out into the circular grid of wood-paved roads that led past workshops to the domestic area at the very centre. Her humiliation could not have been more public, but by now she had ceased to let it trouble her when all that mattered was her rescue and the man who had rushed to claim her. Not that she believed there was any more to his hasty response than ownership. Having brought her safely this far, he would not let her go so soon and so easily.
But she had been living at close quarters with this enigmatic man now for at least a week, enough time for her to rely on him for her safety and whatever comfort he could provide, and enough time also for her to experience the kind of reliability no other man had shown her in all her twenty-three years. The memory of his kiss was never far from her mind, though even that was hard to find a reason for, except the exasperation of a woman-starved man who’d had a heavy bucket dropped on him. He had kept well away from her as they crossed the ocean and now, to her, even his hold on her arm was somehow more acceptable than that.
Steering her into a massive building more impressive in size and furnishings than the one at home, Aric used his grip on her to make her face him. ‘You and your maid will stay in this building. Don’t try to escape again. My men guard all four entrances.’
‘I was not trying to escape,’ she retorted, putting up a hand to comfort her arm. ‘If I had been, I would not have been hanging round the market stalls.’
He looked as if he had not heard her, but summoned a grey-haired woman who had waited nearby. ‘This woman will see to you. Your chests will be in your room. Ask her for anything you need. She speaks your language.’
‘We need a bath of hot water,’ Fearn said, ‘and some food that doesn’t taste of salt and a room without men in it, and we—’
‘Ask her!’ he cried angrily, turning to go. ‘And do it politely.’
Chastened, she tried a shy smile of apology on the woman who, to her relief, smiled back with understanding. ‘You are tired,’ she said. ‘Come this way, if you please.’
‘What is this place?’ Fearn said, following her to a corner of the hall.
‘One of King Swein’s palaces,’ said the woman. ‘It’s used for administration mostly and for protection from our Norwegian neighbours. Here is your room.’
Of newer construction than her own small chamber in Jorvik, the room was more comfortable and spacious with rush matting on the floor, warm hangings on the walls, rug-covered chests and a curtained bed built into the wall. Her chests of clothes were already there and, at the first mention of a bath, a huge half-barrel lined with leather was carried in, soon filled with buckets of steaming water while Fearn and Haesel peeled off their sticky salt-soaked clothes.
Sweet-smelling herbs in the water released an aroma into the room, bringing them back to some semblance of normality after days of exposure to wind and sea spray, and when their hostess brought bunches of soapwort for them to make a lather, the cares of those cramped uncomfortable days dissolved into the steam. Lathering her mistress’s hair, Haesel washed out the stiff tangles at last, leaving a shining mass of black curls to drip down Fearn’s back and face as she stood to receive a linen towel to wrap around her head.
Feeling a rush of cool air on her shoulder, she assumed it was the woman returning with more water. Haesel’s yelp alerted her to her mistake yet, instead of snatching at the towel, Fearn turned to see that it was Aric who stood transfixed in the doorway with the latch in his hand and an expression of incredulity on his face at the glorious sight of her body, naked from the waist upwards. Water and lather ran in rivulets over her breasts, with spirals of black hair sticking to her skin which was bronzed in areas where the sun and wind had caught it. Only an hour ago, she would have yelled angrily at him to wake him from his trance, but the warm aromatic luxury of the bath had soothed her rattled nerves and, instead of an angry reaction, she simply turned her back on him to receive the towel from Haesel whose horrified face almost made her smile. The door closed with a soft clack of the latch. ‘Serve him right,’ Fearn whispered, ‘for walking in without knocking.’
‘Lady, he saw you naked,’ Haesel said, helping her out of the tub.
‘Half-naked,’ Fearn corrected her. ‘As much as I’ve seen of him. Now it’s your turn. Come on, get in before it cools.’
The sheer indulgence of having clean linen next to her skin at last, of having firm earth beneath her feet and the fresh scent of herbs around her, while not banishing all her cares completely, at least put them into a context where they could be thought about, free from the added complications of bodily discomforts. For one thing, she had perhaps underrated her need of Aric’s protection, this being a foreign land where things would be done differently and where her standing as an earl’s foster daughter would carry nothing like the weight it had in Jorvik, where she was known to everyone. In spite of her show of courage, the episode in the marketplace had shaken her more than she wished to admit and now Aric had made it plain that he thought her a foolish creature on whom he need expend no particular courtesies, not even to knock on her door.
Unsure of how to convince him that she was still a lady, she tried to summon some kind of strategy while standing by the small window which, covered with oiled linen, showed only that the light was fading. Haesel had gone with their hostess to bring a torch to light the lamps and to visit the kitchens for food. Behind her, the sound of the door latch made her turn in expectation of light and food but, against all her hopes, saw that it was Aric who entered and closed the door, waiting for her to speak.
But now too much had happened between them since she had been taken captive for her to think of him as simply the brutal overlord responsible for her husband’s murder. He was more than this, yet possessing qualities that even she was bound to recognise, as his reception on the quay had demonstrated. And while each day for him had been taken up with the effort of keeping them all safe, for her the elements had stolen away many of her emotions and left her with resentment, confusion and fear of the future. Now, just when she had been sure of his continued avoidance, he was here again to see what had changed in her, now she was in his country.
‘Well?’ she said. ‘Have you decided yet?’
‘Decided what?’
‘Whether I am to remain a noble-born earl’s foster daughter or your slave to do with as you will. My ignoble march to this place would seem to indicate that I have already lost whatever status I once had.’
He moved slowly towards her while she pressed herself backwards into the wall below the window, trying to dodge sideways when he came too close. His body prevented hers from moving, so that she felt his breath on her face just before his mouth sought hers, his kiss giving her no answer except that it was careful enough for a noblewoman yet masterly enough for a slave. Still moist, sweet-smelling and more relaxed, her body bent into his, feeling the strength of his arm across her shoulders and his other hand in the bright loose curls of her hair, steering he
r head closer to his mouth for as long as he wished it. ‘Woman,’ he whispered, letting her breathe, ‘don’t ever run from me again. Swear it.’
‘I told you,’ she said, looking into the cool grey eyes, ‘we were not running away. We wanted to get off that damned ship, that’s all.’
‘And you couldn’t have waited?’
‘For what? For you to parade us in front of that crowd, like booty?’
‘Which I did. You yourself made that happen, impetuous little fool, and nearly got taken by slavers. Next time, you wait for my command.’ As if to reinforce his instructions, his kiss was hard and searching like that of a man suffering the same impetuosity.
Pushing at his shoulders, she prised herself far enough away to speak, though he would not release her. ‘I have a mind of my own, Dane,’ she said, ‘and I shall find it very hard to obey your commands unless they suit my purpose. I have warned you, I shall do all I can to make you send me home early.’
His hand moved from her hair to roam over the soft curves of her hips and buttocks, telling her how much he wanted her after a year of celibacy. The bruise on his forehead could no longer be hidden by the lock of pale hair that hooked into his eyes and Fearn could not help thinking how much more vulnerable he looked with his hair loose, though his words belied that image. ‘Listen to me,’ he said. ‘You cannot have it both ways. This is Denmark, not England, and if you want my protection, which you do, then you must do as I say. You will be here for a year...’
‘As what?’
‘As my woman. So it will be best for you to forget your grievances and try to learn something from the experience. You may even begin to enjoy it.’
‘In your bed, you mean,’ she said, struggling against him.
He held her, easily. ‘Yes, in my bed. Or yours. Or anywhere else.’
She hated his flippancy when, to her, it meant so much more. ‘Of course, you would say that, wouldn’t you? It’s what you implied to Earl Thored, isn’t it? Did you think I would find that amusing?’
‘No. That was crude. Forget that I said it.’
‘I wish I could, but unfortunately, you see, that kind of remark has more effect on a woman than on a man. They would think it amusing. But I do not want it to happen to me. I did not want to bear my husband’s child and I don’t want yours, either. But you have answered my question, even so.’
‘Which one?’
‘Whether I remain as an honoured noblewoman or become a slave. You have removed the difference, Dane. It is you who wants it both ways, isn’t it, by calling me your woman.’
‘Take it whichever way you want, lady. The distinction clearly matters to you more than it does to me,’ he said, too casually for her peace of mind. ‘But I would remind you of the good manners you were taught as a noblewoman, which is to show due courtesy to those whose hospitality and help you accept.’
‘Your family?’
‘You will live with me in my house, with our servants. My younger sister and her husband, my uncle and cousin all live in Lindholm, too. They will help you to settle in.’
‘I see. And you intend to haul me there by one arm, then, do you?’
‘Do you want me to?’
She sighed, suddenly tired of an argument she was clearly not going to win. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I don’t.’
‘Then either cover your hair or wear it as the young women here do.’
She nodded, closing her eyes as he kissed her again, tenderly.
‘At last, I think we’re getting somewhere,’ he whispered. ‘You will eat in here this evening. I shall eat and sleep in the hall. Tomorrow, we shall be away at daybreak.’
‘I’m so tired. May I not sleep through the morning?’
‘No. My men need to get home to their families. They cannot wait on your sleep, lady.’
‘Yes, of course. I shall be ready.’
‘Tonight, there will be a guard posted outside your door.’
‘Oh? In case we try to escape?’
‘In case of sleepwalkers,’ he said, turning to go as the two women entered.
‘Sleepwalkers?’ Haesel said. ‘Does he mean us, or them?’
‘I have no idea,’ Fearn said, sleepily.
Chapter Five
Despite her exhaustion, the days of discomfort, the nights without sleep, there were issues demanding Fearn’s attention that kept sleep away long after she might have given in. The bed was like a warm cloud, the sheets dry and clean, her skin soothed by the woman’s deft oily hands, yet still the memory of Aric’s recent kisses, which she had done little to resist, returned in waves of guilty pleasure. After all she had said, after all that had happened, she found it quite impossible to pretend that his lovemaking bore the slightest resemblance to what she’d been used to, as a wife. Quite the opposite—his lips searching hers, his closeness, his arms and hands gripping her shoulders had made her forget everything that had gone before and to experience again that melting warmth flooding into her thighs. A small voice at the furthest reaches of her mind suggested to her that those brief moments when he had held her might make up for the worst happenings of the last few days, but, no, she would not let that pass. He was the enemy and she had sworn to make him regret what he had done. There must be no weakening of her resolve in that. Even that determination, however, provided no answers to the problem of how to keep herself on course when he would certainly do his utmost to become her lover. He had already hinted to her that she might begin to enjoy it, even against her will, and a year was a long time to withstand a siege as potent as that.
The other issue to prevent her immediate sleep was the meaning of Haesel’s omen, the second to have come to her since Barda’s murder. It was as if her premonitions had suddenly been released by the absence of his ill nature, a consequence she put to her mistress as they prepared to sleep. ‘You may well be right,’ Fearn said. ‘Your sightings may not have been the only qualities to be squashed. I can think of several of my own. Tell me what you’ve seen.’
Haesel came to sit on the bed, her hair now a halo of pale curls newly washed, her badly scarred neck partly covered by her hand, hiding it from sight. ‘It’s a bit odd, my lady. I saw something like the infirmary at Clementhorpe, you know, beds in a row with people in, all clean and tidy and with rushes on the floor. There was a lovely fresh smell like Mother Bridget used to have in her place.’
‘Could it have been Clementhorpe you were seeing?’
‘She was not there. You were not there either. None of the nuns, just beds. But it was not Clementhorpe. No, I’m sure it wasn’t. Could they have an infirmary where we’re going?’
‘I doubt it. There won’t be many Christians and there won’t be any nuns. They do their own kind of healing and, from what I’ve seen of it, it’s none too effective. The men on the ship were impressed by our remedies, but you know as well as I do that it was only the kind of thing we learned from Mother Bridget. We don’t know exactly what your omen means, love, but we’ll soon find out. And tomorrow, we both wear our veils and circlets when we go out.’
Haesel smiled and removed her hand from her neck. ‘Yes,’ she said.
No more had been said about the vivid picture in Haesel’s mind, but it stayed with Fearn for some time, bringing back Mother Bridget’s advice not to hold on to her resentments, but to make herself useful. Was this what she meant?
* * *
Their short journey to Lindholm a few miles further up the Limfjord was taken aboard Aric’s own ship, a smaller, more streamlined craft than the great longship that had brought them across the sea. This one, he told Fearn, could not have done that with its shallower sides and smaller rudder. She had nodded her interest, used to hearing details of men’s prized possessions, though to her shame she realised how her interest was focused more on his appearance that morning, how the early sun shone on
his sleek fair hair now tied back again into the pigtail and how a sprig of pale pink cowberry blossom had been tucked into the top of it. To her annoyance, she knew that only a woman would have done such a thing and that he would not have known it was there, most likely. The bruise on his forehead had completely disappeared, surprising even her. Such injuries usually lasted over a week, in her experience. Was this another female talent suddenly to emerge after the withdrawal of Barda’s malevolence? It was certainly beginning to look that way.
The fjord was at least as wide as the great River Ouse that flowed through Jorvik and was in many ways similar with low-thatched farm houses on either side, animals grazing, fields of wheat and barley, rich green meadowland, fishing boats and nets hanging up to dry. As the fjord narrowed round a small egg-shaped island, a dense cluster of wooden houses spread backwards from the water’s edge to make a sizeable settlement without the dense pall of smoke that hung over the rooftops of the town she knew in England. Here, the air was clean and fresh, the water clear blue, shimmering in the northern light.
The sound of Einar’s horn blasted across the water, alerting the settlement to the arrival of the Jarl’s ship, at last. ‘That should wake ’em up.’ He grinned. On board were Aric’s closest companions and those others who lived at Lindholm, among them the young warrior who had teased Fearn and been threatened by her, now one of her most respectful admirers. As before, a crowd had gathered on the quay to greet them, women with infants and excited children, men with sleeves rolled up come from their work, older relatives and a scattering of younger women with eager smiles to greet their lovers. Fearn felt their curious stares and knew that inevitably she would be seen as the Jarl’s English captive, for his mission had been quite specific, to make demands on the English and to return his nephew to his own kin. Their eyes searched for the boy.
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