“Agreed.”
A nasty feeling twisted Rorik’s gut. “Halfdan. As king, he controls the Vestfold in the south, but has spread his interest to Sogn and now he’s eyeing the wealth of the north. It has furs, sea ivory, hides, down, and timber. Perhaps we’ve become too strong and he fears we’ll control the routes along the coast in this region and block his access. My own ancestors, and those of Lade, came together from the Malangenfjorden for this very reason. They needed to control the sea routes from Troms, north of Hålogaland, to the markets in the south. So they settled here.” He shook his head. “To challenge Halfdan would take more strength than even I have.”
“But not more than both of us. I don’t think he’d be concerned by one of us, but he may have heard we’ve started an alliance and he fears our combined power.”
“Then he’s going about it the wrong way. It’s only driving us together to make a stand.”
“He can’t be certain of that.” Leif took a hunk of bread from a platter. “He might be using Oddr and Kolbienn to test you. Give them enough men to poke at you and see what comes of it. Have there been any actual settlers on your lands?”
“Not as yet.” Rorik pried open a walnut shell with his knife. “We’ve found evidence that they’ve started building. Foundations, fencing, and such. No people as yet.”
Leif smeared honey on the bread. “And were these places along your borders?”
“Most, yes.” Thorir straightened, his eyes narrowing. “They’re trying to make it appear as though we’re each moving in on the other.”
“They want to see whether we’ll fight among ourselves or not,” Rorik said. “They don’t realize how skilled my patrols are. They’ve seen the jarls’ men. If we were so foolish as to attack each other, the destruction would be complete.”
“And the king could move in.” Kaia stabbed the table with her eating knife. “Control this region and its farmlands and wealth. He’s seeking to expand out of the south.”
“I’m no king,” Rorik said. “But I’ll face one any day to protect what is mine.”
Leif snorted. “You may as well be one. I’ve never seen such wealth as you have here and Halfdan may want some of it eventually. That includes your farmlands, ships, and power. What about Lade? They’re your neighbor also and a rising power here.”
“They have their lands and we have ours. We’ve always lived in peace with them since the early days. As long as they don’t interfere with our access to the sea, it will stay that way.”
“There are times I’m grateful to my ancestors for settling as far into the interior as they did,” Leif said. “It kept us out of the eye of kings and other jarls, as they intended. We had enough trouble with our own neighbors.”
“I say we strike Oddr and Kolbienn. Now. With all force.” Thorir’s golden eyes were hard. “That will give the king his answer. Then we can take their lands and people and become even stronger.”
The men sitting to either side of them shouted, banging their knives and cups on the table, but Rorik held up his hand.
“We can take the jarls. The problem is the men Halfdan will send to back them up. We should consider stopping them before they get to this region. They’ll come by sea and that’s where we can block them and defeat them. To do this would take every ship we both have and then some. Many of my warriors are off raiding, but they’ll be back soon. Once they return with their cargos, I’ll keep them here to add to our strength. But right now, my numbers are down.”
“And if you strike with all your forces,” Leif said, “the king may find out just how strong you are. That’s likely what he wants. Never show all your pieces on the board.”
“So what do we do in the meantime?” Thorir frowned. “Let them encroach on us? Make us look weak?”
“Let them think that for now. And they’re not truly encroaching, are they?” Rorik tore off a chunk of bread and reached for the butter. “They just want us to think they are. I say we let them continue. Not provoke a battle. Not until we’re ready. Let my ships and men return in the coming weeks and build our strength. I’d wager you have ships out also and we’ll wait on them. In the meantime, we won’t sit idle. I’ll send some men south to study Oddr, where his strengths and weaknesses are, how many men he has. Thorir, you’ll do the same with Kolbienn to the south of your lands. I’ll also send a couple of my smaller ships to scout along the coast, asking fishermen and farmers what they’ve seen. We’ll call on our allies, then meet again when all our forces are at their strongest. What say you?”
Thorir studied him, his fingers drumming on the table. “Agreed. But this needs to be done by the end of the warm season.”
Rorik nodded. “Our attack on the king’s ships will be, but his eye may not turn from us even then. There’s too much wealth here. We can hold off the inevitable for a time, perhaps even years. But one day, I think that, even if we manage to turn him away, our sons or their sons may not. And those in Lade may grow into a major power. Eventually, they may seek an agreement with Halfdan to keep the peace.”
“I’m only concerned with the now,” Kaia said. “And I say we contact Eirik, ask for his help. He’ll give it.”
“He also gave three of his ships and a large number of his men to my brother as Silvi’s dowry.” Leif grinned. “It looks as though I’ll have to send a message to Magnus as well, asking for help. He can find out what people have seen along the Sognefjorden where Halfdan is said to be settling in. They’ll have no reason to love him and Magnus is well respected there, especially after the thing when he acquitted himself so well. We’ll all be together again, only this time it’s a war, not a wedding. Much the same thing, only the war is more fun.”
“For once, I agree with you.” Kaia took a deep drink, then bared her teeth in a grimace. “That’s depressing.”
They all laughed and Rorik relaxed a bit. The difficult part was out of the way now. At least they’d agreed and not tried to kill each other over the table, though with the glare Kaia was giving Leif, he might be premature with that.
A movement near the door drew Rorik’s attention. Turold came in and skirted into the weaving room. A moment later, he left—with Elfwynn. She was laughing very softly at something he said to her. Rorik nearly growled. She never did that with him. In fact, he’d never heard her laugh at all. They walked outside, heads bowed together.
“It looks as though your lands aren’t the only things being encroached upon.” Thorir smiled as he lifted his cup. Leif choked out a laugh. Even Kaia grinned and nudged him.
Rorik ground his teeth together as he looked at the empty doorway. Turold, Kaia, Leif, Thorir, it didn’t matter. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to spill some blood after all.
* * *
The knock on the door startled Elfwynn as she sorted threads. She was going to give another demonstration of embroidery to the women that evening and needed to gather her supplies.
She didn’t have a chance to answer. The door opened and Rorik strode in. He appeared so much bigger in the small house than he did in the vast hall. He glanced around, as though searching for something. Or someone.
No doubt he’d seen Turold and her leaving the longhouse together, which was just what they wanted. It would throw anyone off his trail with Finna.
She gave him a sweet smile. “If you’re looking for Oslafa, she’s not here. Can I help you?”
“Are you alone?”
She raised her brows and made a show of looking around the single room, even checking under the table. “I would say so. Unless there’s someone stuffed inside the thatch on the roof.”
He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment. “I came to tell you that I have to get more wine, and I have other goods to take to Hedeby. We’re leaving in a week.”
She nodded. It should make her happy to get away from this place and back with other Christians, if not her family. But with the unexpected kindness and generosity of the people and the beauty of the land, she’d found a certain contentment h
ere. And yet, this wasn’t about her. Her mother would be pining for her, perhaps getting even weaker. Wulf had said he’d never give up on her if anything happened. She had to go back for their sakes, even if it meant facing her father.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’ll be ready whenever you are.”
He stepped toward her until she had to look up at him. He towered over her, but she stood her ground, not giving him the satisfaction of stepping back. “I don’t want Turold taking liberties where you’re concerned.”
“He’s making certain I get home safely after I weave for the day. With what happened with those bondsmen and all the unfamiliar warriors here now, he’s watching over me.”
“I’ll assign a man of my own to guard you.”
“And, no doubt keep an eye on me, as well.”
“Is there a reason I need to keep you out of trouble?”
“The only one here who causes me trouble, Northman, is you.”
He took a step closer and his gaze dropped to her mouth. “Little Christian, I can show you just what kind of trouble I could be.”
She wavered. What would it be like to let him kiss her? His clean scent of the sea and the wind would wrap around her like his arms. His strength would fill her as she opened to him. But he’d used the sea and the wind to take her away from all she loved. His strength gave him the ability. Everything he was had taken away everything she loved.
Glaring up at him, she spoke low. “I’ve seen you with your women in the hall. I don’t need any more of a demonstration than that.”
“There’s seeing, and then there’s doing.”
“Whatever I do, it won’t be with you.”
“It had better not be with Turold either. Until I have my money, you’re mine in trade for my burned ship. Don’t forget it.” He pivoted toward the door, but she followed him a few steps.
“I thought I was a guest. You speak as if I’m a slave.”
He turned back to her. “Right now, you’re a means to an end. Your only value to me lies in your purity.” He hesitated, as though he was uncertain of himself. Then he walked to her and lifted a hand to her cheek. His thumb brushed her skin. “But you make it harder and harder to remember that.”
His touch was so gentle, she barely felt it on her skin, but it hit her inside like a bolt of lightning. She opened her mouth to retort that he’d best improve his memory, but the words never came. As he leaned toward her, she remained where she was, gazing up at him. He looked again at her mouth, then lower, and his hand cupped her face more firmly, as though he wanted to hold her still.
A sensation built in her, but what was it? She trembled, and it wasn’t from fear. As she shuddered, something flickered in his eyes. Doubt? He took a breath and the spell was broken.
She backed away and his hand fell to his side.
“One week.” Her voice shook. “Only one more week. Then you won’t have to remember me any longer.”
He inclined his head. “Yes. But then there are the days, and nights, on the ship. Why do I feel that, of all the voyages I’ve taken, this is the one I won’t soon forget?”
As he left, she sank down on the bench at the table. There was a tone to his voice, a poignancy, that had pierced her. Did he truly speak of journeys across the sea, or did he speak of something else? He’d been with so many women. Was he talking about them? She shook her head. With all his conquests, he had no reason to remember her. She was a ransom to be paid. That was all.
She continued to sort the pile of threads on the table, then stopped and touched her lips. She should have let him kiss her, just this once. To see what it was like. Where else could she know the touch of such a wild, powerful, beautiful man? But then, she’d have to leave him behind forever and never know such a moment again.
With everything she’d been through since her father’s betrayal, that would hurt her most of all.
* * *
The longhouse was quiet, a rarity even this late at night. Oslafa had told her that unlike most other longhouses, no one slept in Rorik’s. It was the village’s center for gatherings, meals, socializing, and meetings. The people had their own houses scattered along the shoreline and farther inland. Only Rorik, Kaia, and several other high-ranking people had small rooms to themselves off the hall.
Still, there were usually men drinking well into the night. Thorir and his men had returned home, so things were much quieter now and the peace enveloped her as she walked inside. She wove every chance she had, to finish as much of the cloth as she could before she left. Sleep had eluded her this night, so she had come here to work.
As she passed the harp leaning against the wall, she paused. Could she ever play again? It had always brought her such joy and was one of the few things that made her mother smile. Even Wulf often sat in their house and listened to her in the evenings.
She made the music. It wasn’t born of her father. True, he had given her the harp, but her fingers created the notes and the melodies. They were hers alone. Would it bring her restfulness?
She sat down on the small chair, picked up the instrument and set it on her thigh. The harp was similar to the one she had at home, except this one had intertwined leaves and vines woven across its front in a beautiful, intricate pattern. No doubt, Rorik or one of his forebears had stolen this in a raid someplace and no one here knew how to play. Supporting it with her left hand, she placed her fingers on the strings to mute the ones she didn’t want to sound. She strummed with her right hand. It was out of tune, so she plucked the strings very gently, adjusting them.
Bowing her head, she played. The music flowed out around her, soft and lilting. She didn’t want to wake anyone, so she barely touched the strings. With her eyes closed, she could almost imagine she was back home, her mother with her, Wulf smiling as she brought dreams to both of them.
She played the song over again, letting the vibrations enter her, resonate through her. The music became a part of her. When she was finished, she rested her palm against all the strings and the sound faded.
“You said you didn’t play.”
She snapped up her head. Rorik stood just outside the door to his chamber, dressed only in a pair of well-fitting linen trousers. His ebony hair was tousled, cascading down his muscular bare chest, his eyes sleepy. He must have been with one of his women.
Straightening, she took the harp off her lap to set it aside.
“Don’t.” He walked toward her. “I heard you play in a dream. I woke, but still the music continued.”
She wanted to say she was surprised he found time to dream at all during the night. Instead, she watched him as he pulled up a small bench and sat down.
“Play something else. Like the song you just did.”
She’d heard that note of poignancy in his voice a few days ago when he’d come to tell her they’d be leaving soon. A tint of longing. The hall was still, the only sound and illumination coming from the central hearth. The glow lingered on the planes of his beautiful face, like that of a fallen angel. Why did she have the feeling that, like the angel, there was something he wanted that he could never have again? Something sublime, of the light. It sparked in her soul.
She placed the harp back on her leg and played, choosing a song her mother loved for its beauty and tranquility. Before, she’d just brushed the strings, wanting to be quiet. Now, she gave the harp its full voice. Moving with the music, she became one with it. Her heart swelled with the notes and a tear slipped from her eye for the memory of the last time she’d played this song. It connected her to that moment, when she could never have dreamed of the next time she’d hear these notes.
She ended the song, the link with her past breaking, her head still lowered to the harp. He was silent. She didn’t want to look at him, couldn’t look at him. Yet, lifting only her eyes, she did.
“So beautiful.” He was gazing, not at the harp, but at her. He seemed lost in a trance, but then blinked and sat up. “Thank you. I wish I’d known you played before this.
I’d have asked you to do so at the feasts. Will you play tomorrow night for everyone? It will be your last evening here.”
“I don’t think so.” She leaned the harp against the wall and stood.
He rose and came to her. “You’ve managed to charm everyone here. Do you know what Kolla said when I asked her yesterday why the women haven’t been weaving as much lately?”
“No.” She’d wondered that, herself.
“She said the women of Vargfjell don’t approve of how I took you away from your home. And until I keep my word to you, they’re slowing down on their work.”
She looked up at him, speechless.
“You’ve made my own village upset with me.”
“I didn’t do anything on purpose. I didn’t even know. I swear—”
He placed a gentle finger against her lips. “I know. It wasn’t anything you did, but how you are. It was because of your kindness, generosity, and sweetness. It won them over. Tomorrow night, give them another piece of you to remember once you’re gone. Play for them.”
It was as though he wasn’t speaking of them so much as he was speaking of himself. And yet, she hadn’t been sweet to him, or kind. He was keeping his word to her, and it wasn’t only because the women of Vargfjell were upset. He had said she was coming with him to Hedeby even before he knew about that.
She gave a soft smile. “I imagine you or one of your crazy ancestors took the harp from some hapless minstrel in my land.”
“No, we didn’t. It’s always been here. Tomorrow, will you play at the evening meal?”
To say goodbye and thank them for all they’d done for her in making this bearable. To leave a piece of herself in a place that would always be a part of her. And to leave a memory with a man she’d never forget. She drew in a breath and looked at the harp. “I’ll play.”
* * *
The last notes of the song died away. There was a pause and then, throughout the hall, shouts erupted, the men slamming their sloshing cups on the tables, the women clapping. Elfwynn stood, her face heating as she listened to their cheers. It had been the same with each song she’d played for the people of the village.
Lord of the Seas Page 11