Lord of the Seas

by Sabrina Jarema

  He led her toward the outskirts of the town. She tried to resist, but he was too strong. In front of a house ahead of them, a man in long robes stood watching them approach. He looked foreign, with a hooked nose, curling dark hair, and a long beard.

  “Ah, Rorik, friend of friends. What do you bring to me?” He grinned as he studied her.

  Rorik took hold of her upper arms and turned her to face the man. “A beautiful treasure from the western isles, Ibrahim.”

  “I can see that. Is she untouched?”

  “As the snows on the tops of the mountains in my land.”

  She couldn’t speak, couldn’t even move. Her breath came short and she wanted to be sick. She looked at Rorik’s men. They kept the crowd back, their swords held in front of them. They appeared displeased, giving Rorik sour looks. If she could appeal to them, they might intervene.

  Rorik pulled her around to face him so that the man could see her hair. She looked up at him, her eyes filling, but he focused on the merchant. She had to reach him somehow.

  He still held her upper arms. She couldn’t touch his face, so she grasped his forearms. “Remember the night I played the harp for you? If you bring me back to Vargfjell, I can play every night for you. I touched something then, something sweet and deep within you.” She placed her hand on his chest. “I know it’s still there. This isn’t you. Don’t do this to me. Don’t stop the music only I can play for you. Please, Rorik.”

  The blankness in his eyes changed. They became sharper, clearer. He blinked and looked down at her. A tear fled down her cheek as she gazed up at him. Glancing around them, he took a deep breath as though he were just awakening.

  “She is exquisite,” the merchant said. “Perhaps I need to take her into my house and, ah, make certain of her purity. Not that I mistrust you, Rorik, but women can fake such things. They are ever deceitful.”

  Rorik’s head snapped around as he took in the crowd who was watching, waiting to see what would happen. His men stood still, their faces grim.

  He lowered his gaze to hers, his voice very low. “I’ll make this right. Trust me.”

  “Never again.” She tried to free herself, but couldn’t. “You lied. You promised to take me to Hedeby so I could return to my people.”

  “I promised to bring you here, yes. But not what I would do with you once we got here. Perhaps I betrayed you. Like your father did.” He had the gall to smile at her and his hands loosened just a bit.

  She did yank free of him then. Backing away, she drew the knife Kaia had given her and held it out between them. “Don’t, Rorik. Don’t come near me. Just let me go.” He might as well take the knife and cut out her heart. It would be kinder.

  He stalked her, a feral look in his eyes. “Do you think you can do more than scratch me with that? The people here will convict you of trying to kill me. With all these witnesses, it would be easy. You’ll be sold into slavery anyhow.”

  “I don’t care. I don’t—”

  She sliced at him, but he was on her in an instant. She didn’t have time to react before he took the knife from her and put it under his belt. Wrapping one arm around her, he hauled her to him, her back to his chest. She tried to swing at him, but he pinned her arms to her sides.

  “Damn you to Hell for all eternity, Northman! I hate you.”

  He cut off her words with a hand over her mouth and turned them both to face the merchant. “My most humble apologies, Ibrahim. I thought I had her well-trained and submissive, but I can see I have more work to do. I would throw myself off the edge of the world if I were to sell such a termagant to you. I could never expect you to accept such poor-quality merchandise.”

  “It would be a pleasure to tame her myself.” He rubbed his hands together. “Of course I would have to cut out her tongue first, but she would learn very quickly if she were rendered silent.”

  Oh God. She bit Rorik’s hand. Hard. He let go of her mouth just long enough for her to scream. He put his hand over her mouth again and she kicked him in the shin. He cursed under his breath as he backed away with her. As she twisted, he picked her up against his chest, her feet dangling off the ground. She still tried to kick him. With both heels.

  “I would ask my gods to let a thousand horses run over me every night rather than curse you with such a burden as she has been to me. I would sink all my ships so I could never see another market again rather than disgrace myself by selling her to you in this condition. I know you only purchase the finest of women, not one such as this. May the scorpions of all the deserts of your homeland infest my bed were I to insult you so.”

  She shifted her hips to one side, as Kaia had taught her, and slammed her fist between his legs. It wasn’t as hard as she would have liked since he still pinned her arms to her sides. But it was enough that he groaned. He continued to back up, carrying her with him.

  “Allow me the honor of teaching her what her place is and I’ll return with her when she is subdued. Only then will she be worthy of your esteemed consideration. And to compensate you for your valuable time, I’ll send some of the best wine I’ve just purchased.”

  “Very well, Rorik. I’ll expect it. And her. Soon.” He frowned as he bowed, still eyeing her.

  They backed around the corner of a house, his men following, watching the crowd. Rorik let her down, his arm loosening. She broke free and tried to slap him. He caught her hand, then her, and slung her over his shoulder.

  “To the ship. Fast.” He ran with his men through the streets as people jumped out of their way. She reared up and he tightened his grip on her thighs. With his shoulder cutting into her stomach, she couldn’t keep up the position and flopped back down. His long black hair flowed past her and she gathered up a handful and yanked on it.

  “Damn you, Northman, let me down.”

  “Not until we’re on the ship. Now be quiet. You’ve done enough for one day.”

  “I’ve done enough?” She gave his hair another good tug.

  “Stop that.” He smacked her rear as he ran onto the walkway along the shore. His warriors caught up to him as he slowed to a fast walk. “Get the men here. We’re leaving now.”

  “But the cargo.”

  “Never mind that now. We have the wine. Whatever hasn’t been traded will have to wait for another time. We’re going to have the Christians breathing down our necks, and the Arabs, then most likely Horik. I don’t plan to be around for that.”

  They hurried onto the dock where the ship was tied. He leaped over the water with her still on his shoulder and their landing knocked whatever breath she had left out of her. He strode to her tent in the front and set her on her feet. With a hand on her arm, he made certain she was steady but she jerked away from him.

  She couldn’t go back with him. Not after this. Who knew what she would be now? A slave? A bondservant working off this debt? He said she was his to do with as he pleased, and she knew what pleased him the most. She leaped for the side of the ship, but he caught her. Tears coursing down her face, she collapsed in his arms. He picked her up, took her into the makeshift tent, and laid her down on the furs.

  She scrambled away from him. “Don’t come near me. You betrayed me. You said so. Like my father.”

  “I had to say something to get you angry. If you’ll let me explain.” He reached out to touch her arm.

  She smacked his hand away. “You explained everything to that—that slave merchant. That’s what he is, isn’t it? And you took me to him. To sell me.” She couldn’t say anything else. Her soul was so badly torn, it would never heal.

  “I get angry.” He gazed out of the tent toward his men who were loading crates and chests onboard. “I only know the rage. Nothing else. When you hit me in front of everyone, after having been turned down by your Church, I saw red. Half of Hedeby must have been there and witnessed it. My reputation was sinking to the bottom of the fjord and I couldn’t stop it. I snapped.”

  “Just once, why don’t you think of your reputation with me? Oh, that’s r
ight. I’m a means to an end. Nothing more. Now I’m not even that.” She kneaded the blanket beneath her. “No matter what it takes, Northman, I’ll be free of you. Even if I have to swim the sea that has no tides to get home.”

  He bowed his head and his hair fell around him. She caught the start of a smile he was trying to hide. “That’s not how you get to Northumbria. You might try the North Sea instead.”

  “North Sea, Valhalla, or Hell itself. I don’t care how I do it, I’ll get away from you.”

  “It doesn’t have to be this way, Elfwynn. If you’d just listen to me.” He tried to take her hands, but she pushed him backwards.

  As he landed on his back on the deck, she bolted over him and headed for the side of the ship again. It didn’t matter if she drowned. Perhaps she would, and then she’d escape him forever.

  He grabbed her ankle. She fell and kicked at him but it didn’t stop him from grabbing her leg. “Galinn, get me some rope.” He picked her up, deposited her on her back in the tent again and held her wrists until Galinn returned. Sitting on her thighs, he reached back for the rope Galinn handed him. “I won’t hurt you, but I have to do this to be certain you don’t hurt yourself.”

  “Too late.” She quieted as he bound her wrists in front of her. There was no point in fighting any longer. Kaia taught her that if one had to give in for the time being, it wasn’t defeat. It was only victory delayed. He got off of her, then tied her ankles as well. After he placed her on the furs again, he pulled a blanket up to her shoulders.

  Putting his hands on either side of her head, he stared down at her. “Now you will listen to me. You will not say a word. If you do, I’ll gag for you the rest of the way home. Then you’ll have no choice. Do you understand?”

  His glossy soft hair fell down over her, brushing her skin. She was beneath him, helpless, She had to do as he said. She started to answer, but at his warning look, she only nodded.

  He sat beside her. “That’s better. Outside Ibrahim’s house, I don’t remember anything until I heard you say ‘Rorik’.” He looked down at her. “You’ve never called me anything but ‘Northman’ before. Yet when I heard you say my name, the bloody haze that fills my mind disappeared and the anger faded. We were standing there at Ibrahim’s house. I was talking to him about selling you. I was horrified. I’ve visited slave markets before, but only to try to save women and children, not sell them.

  “Everyone was watching me to see what I would do. I had to save face, come up with some way to get out of it without offending him too badly. I remembered Thorir being interested in you and I told him of your temper and sharp words in order to dissuade him. It worked then. I hoped it might this time as well. But it wouldn’t be enough to tell Ibrahim of it. He had to see it to know I spoke the truth. So I tried to make you angry. Fortunately, it doesn’t take much.” He rubbed his temple where she’d hit him.

  “I didn’t want to hurt you, but I had to in order to keep you from greater harm. I know your father is a tender place for you. I had to strike there.”

  “And you drew blood. The wound will never heal.” At that point, she didn’t care if he gagged her. She had to speak her mind, even if it meant being silenced the rest of the journey.

  But he only brushed back her hair. “My temper is why I can’t tie any woman to me. Although at the moment, it seems I have.” He gave her a tentative smile.

  She looked away. “So what now? Where do we go from here? To the slave markets across the Baltic to get rid of me?”

  “Heard about them, did you? Not this trip. Maybe next time. But for now, it’s back to Vargfjell. If we can get out of the harbor without half of Hedeby coming after us.” He checked outside. “I have to go.” Taking her cheek in his hand, he pressed until she had to look at him. He was very gentle, but she couldn’t resist it. “I told you. I’ll make this right between us.”

  “There is no ‘us’. And how can you make it right, when you’re what’s wrong?” She turned over, burying her face in the furs.

  With a sigh, he caressed her shoulder, then went onto the deck.

  “We have company, Rorik.” Galinn sounded alarmed.

  “I see them. Is everyone here?”

  “We’re all here, along with the wine and cargo.”

  “Cast off.”

  She sat up and peered out as best as she could. The men hurried to untie the ship and shove away from the pier. As the ship drifted into the bay and the men set out the oars, a group gathered on the dock. The priest who had helped her was among them, along with other members of the clergy and well-dressed warriors. Were they the king’s men? The priest hurried to the end of the dock and shook his fist at them. He had tried to come for her, to save her from the Northmen. But it was too late.

  She lay back down and dried her tears on the furs. Everything was too late.

  The Kattegat, between Denmark and Norway

  When they’d passed the islands separating the Baltic and the Kattegat, Rorik came into the tent and untied her. On their way to Hedeby, Galinn had pointed out the landmarks and bodies of water to her. At least now, she knew where they were. Coming here, they’d skirted the North Sea, then sailed into the Skagerrak, then the Kattegat. Now they’d head back through them. And they likely weren’t on their way to Northumbria.

  “I’ll see that you have something to eat,” he said as he inspected her wrists. There were no marks.

  She pulled them away. “Don’t bother. I’m not hungry.”

  “I’ll send Galinn in later with something. At least you won’t try to kill him. I think.” He backed out and left her alone. Thank God. She stayed in the tent. The ship wasn’t that big, so she heard him speaking with Galinn.

  “Those were Horik’s men on the pier.” Rorik sounded frustrated.

  “I know. So now Horik is mad, the Christians are mad, and the Arabs are mad. At you.” Galinn chuckled. “We sent the wine you promised Ibrahim, but that won’t go far in assuaging his disappointment at losing Elfwynn. If you don’t return with her by winter, he won’t be amused. I suppose this counts out trading at Hedeby for the time being.”

  “And Kaupang. Don’t forget the Danes rule there as well, though it’s across the water. They hold all the southern parts of our land. That leaves Birka and Dorestad, both much farther away. At least I’ll still have a place to get good wine since Dorestad is in Frisia next to the Rhineland.”

  “The markets at Gotland and Öland are closer than Birka, though,” Galinn said. “And there is always Halikko in the land of the Finns. Still far, but not so far as Staraya Ladoga, and they have access to the eastern markets.”

  “True, but I’ve seen enough Arabs for now.” Rorik looked toward the stern. “I have things to do. Watch Elfwynn for me. I don’t trust her not to hurl herself into the sea. Don’t leave her out of your sight, even if you’re taking a piss off the side of the ship.”

  “I’m certain she’d appreciate that view. You should have left her tied.”

  “I can’t do that. Not all the way home. That’s days.”

  “All right. I’ll—Wait, Rorik. Look. There’s another ship on the horizon, just ahead to the west.”

  “I see it. The sail is full on to us. It’s coming this way. It might be another trader heading east toward land, but we can’t take any chances.” He raised his voice. “Take the shields from the sides of the ship and get out your weapons.”

  The men dropped what they were doing and followed Rorik’s orders. Elfwynn backed further into the tent. What if they were attacked? Rorik’s warriors were said to be the best, but then, few ever challenged him on the seas. If the crew of the unknown ship did, they must be very powerful.

  Rorik climbed past the tent, heading for the front of the ship. Curious, she went outside to see what was happening. He leaped up behind the dragonhead on the forestem and hung on to it. Shielding his eyes with his hand, he studied the approaching ship. His long hair streamed out behind him as he braced his legs apart, straddling the bow. The ship dove int
o the waves, sending prismatic spray around him. He was as untamed as the wind, surely the lord of the seas.

  “Odin’s eye.” He spoke over his shoulder. “It’s Alvida. And she’s seen us. If she wants to fight us, let’s turn the ship and oblige her.”

  He laughed as the men cheered, banging their weapons on their shields. The ship changed course and the sails snapped taut. Unsheathing his sword, he faced the approaching vessel. He brandished it high and his men let out a great shout.

  Were they insane? They wanted to fight? She watched the ship coming closer. Of course they did. There was a brawl at Vargfjell nearly every night, late, when the men were well into their cups.

  But this was war. Her chest tightened as she gripped the side of the ship. Oh Lord, not now. Ever since she’d lost her brother in war, the fear came on her when someone she loved was going into battle. Wulf. Her father. The world tilted and it wasn’t because of the waves. It was the gripping terror. It shouldn’t happen now, for there was no one here she loved, no reason to feel this.

  She broke out in a sweat and yet her blood ran cold. Galinn came to her side.

  “You need to go back inside. We can’t let them see you. They shouldn’t harm you, but we can’t know for certain.” He took her arm and guided her into the tent.

  Rorik jumped down off the side. “Here, take this.” He removed the knife he’d taken from her from his belt and handed it to her, hilt first. His eyes met hers as she took it. “Don’t do anything foolish. We’ll all watch out for you, but there’s always a chance you may have to defend yourself. Remember what Kaia taught you.”

  With the knife in her hand, the terror receded slightly. She nodded. “Who’s Alvida?”

  He chuckled. “A Geatish princess turned pirate. We’re . . . old friends.” Grinning, he backed out, letting the flap fall closed behind him.

  “A what?” She stared after him. Had the world gone insane? Princesses turning pirate and sailing the seas? It didn’t surprise her that he was friends not only with a pirate, but with a woman pirate. She could just imagine what kind of “friendship” that entailed.