In spite of Galinn’s warning, she had to see what was happening, so she parted the flap enough to peer out. Rorik and his men lined the right side of the ship, grinning. But they had no swords, or axes, or spears. They’d set their shields aside. They were being attacked, and yet, they had no weapons in hand? The world had gone mad.
The ship glided close to them and Rorik shouted across the distance. “Alvida, what are you doing in the Kattegat? Aren’t you a little too close to the Danes? You know they’re still looking for you.”
“I thought that was you on the bow, Rorik.” A beautiful voice floated across the waves. “I didn’t recognize this longship. It’s not your usual one. If I’d known it was you, I might not have bothered. Then again, perhaps I would have. Anything to see your beautiful face again, besides in my dreams.” Her tone dropped to a sensual purr.
“You should speak of beautiful faces, Alvida. And that ship met with an accident in Northumbria. You’re usually on the seas, not in these waters.”
“I thought I’d lie in wait for merchants returning from Birka, Gotland, and Staraya Lagoda. Nice, rich merchants. No place for them to run, here. I’ll wager you’re returning from Hedeby. Have a profitable trip?”
He laughed. “I’ve had better. I won’t be welcome there for a while.”
“Now why doesn’t that surprise me? Whose wife did you swive this time?”
“No wives. Why fight with a husband when there are so many unmarried women to be enjoyed?”
“True. And it’s not like you have to chase any of them. If anything, they chase you. So, Rorik, what do you have for me to take from you today?”
“Come aboard and find out.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
The ship shuddered as the other vessel scraped against it. Men and women surged on board and Rorik’s crew met them, some jumping onto the other ship. She stared. It wasn’t a war. It was a brawl. With fists, not weapons. And the warriors were grinning and laughing. They were enjoying this.
Some of Alvida’s crew tried to take chests and crates, but Rorik’s men knocked them flat. They rose, swinging. Rorik was in the thick of it, his white teeth flashing as he pounded a man into the deck. Men leaped back and forth with stolen cargo, only to have it taken back again.
She lifted the flap a bit more so she could see the other ship. On the bow, hanging on to the forestem, stood a stunning woman. Her flowing hair was white-blonde, her eyes a startling shade of blue. She was dressed as the men, in leather and mail with a gold-hilted sword at her side. Elfwynn had never seen a more beautiful woman.
Laughing, Alvida watched the melee. People landed in the water, only to climb out and rejoin the fight. Blood flew, but it was from punches, not blades. Rorik lifted a pirate and tossed him overboard. Another attacked him from behind, but he threw back his head, smashing the man’s nose. Blood sprayed everywhere.
One of the pirates looked toward the tent. She ducked, but not before he grinned at her. She scrambled back, gripping the small knife as though her life depended on it. The tent was tied down to the sides of the ship and there was no way out.
Kaia’s words came to her. Step not one foot from battle, but meet it head on. That is the Norse way. She wasn’t Norse, but this was a Norse ship and it would appear she’d be living with them for a time. Not that she had a choice, in both cases.
She braced herself. As the flap opened, she sprang forward into him, as she had when she’d bowled over Rorik. The pirate crashed backward, onto the deck, and she sliced him across the arm. He yelled. She straddled him, aiming at him again.
Rorik pulled her off and took the knife from her, then picked the pirate up and threw him overboard. The man surfaced, shouting in anger. Men helped him aboard Alvida’s ship. She jumped down off the bow and looked at his wound. Everyone stopped fighting.
She spun toward them. “We’ve always agreed no blades, Rorik. Do you go back on your word?”
“And no rape, Alvida. He went after this woman.” He drew her to his side. “She’s mine. She cut him defending herself.”
Alvida kicked the man in the rear. He flailed and fell over the other side of the ship, into the water. He came up sputtering.
“Enough,” she said. “We’ve traded punches and cargo. Shall we call it a draw, Rorik?”
“As always, Alvida.”
She considered Elfwynn as the men and women sought their own ships. “I see you already have a valuable bit of cargo there. If you didn’t, I’d invite you to pirate with me. We could be so good together. In many ways.”
He bowed to her. “Ah, beautiful princess, I’d welcome you into my bed, but never into my boat. There’s no telling what would come up missing. Besides, I know your heart lies elsewhere.”
“Perhaps. But so, I think, might yours.” She inclined her head to Elfwynn, then smiled at him. “May we meet again soon, Rorik of Vargfjell.”
“We will. But not, I hope, before we heal.” He held up his bloody knuckles.
She laughed and called out to her crew. They cast off and the two longships moved apart. Rorik leaned over the side of the ship and rinsed his hands clean of the blood. Then he walked toward the stern, checking with his men as they put the deck to rights.
“I don’t believe what just happened.” Elfwynn shook her head as Galinn stood beside her to watch Alvida sail away. “How does a princess become a pirate?”
“Her father, the king of the Geats, decreed that any man who wanted to marry her had to get past two guardian snakes. Many tried, and many died. But one man, a raider who was also a prince, killed the snakes. Her father turned her against him, saying the prince had rejected her. She did not want to continue the secluded life her father forced on her, so in despair, she gathered other men and women who were like-minded, and went pirating. She found another ship and crew who had lost their captain and they accepted her leadership. And so she sails the seas, pillaging and plundering. The Danes have tried to stop her, but to no avail. They say the prince still chases her, but so far, he hasn’t caught her either.”
He sucked on an injured knuckle, then examined it. “Rorik has an agreement with her. We may try to steal each other’s cargo, but no blades and no death.” He eyed her. “He gave you a knife since he most likely didn’t think you’d actually use it. It was supposed to make you feel better. Safer. He thought he had a little Christian lamb, as the priest said, on his ship. Instead, he finds a shieldmaiden. Kaia will be so proud.”
Looking at the departing ship, she sighed. She was no shieldmaiden. That was for Kaia, Asa, and Alvida. All tall, beautiful, and fierce. Not her. In this strange world where princesses were pirates, men stole from each other by mutual agreement, and warriors fought for the simple joy of it, she was just . . .
Lost.
Chapter Ten
Vargfjell
Rorik rubbed the back of his head where a headache was starting. They approached his shoreline, and several new vessels were pulled onto the beach. Standing in the right rear of the ship, he turned the steering board to come in at the best angle beside them. Elfwynn stood in the bow, facing front, her back to him. As she had been the entire journey.“Looks like the Wind is there,” Galinn said. “Eirik traveled quickly. No doubt his shieldmaiden wife came along.”
“Asa. Yes. She’ll be an asset. I have a feeling my aunt, Lifa, has also come to see to any rune readings that the people may need here. And that means Nuallen, her bodyguard, or whatever he is, will be here as well.”
“I saw you and him eyeing each other like two wolves when we were at Haardvik. I sailed with Kaia the last few summers, so I’m not certain how you know him.”
Rorik nodded. “I attacked his holding in Northumbria a couple of years ago. He was injured and Eirik took him as a slave. I wanted to throw him overboard so he wouldn’t use so many of our provisions if he was just going to die anyhow. The gods intervened and I had no choice but to let him live. Eirik freed him, but Nuallen didn’t return to his land. I think he wants
my aunt, but he’ll have to rethink that if I have anything to say about it. For some reason, he resents me for it all.” He couldn’t keep the irony out of his voice.
“And now you bring back Elfwynn, a Northumbrian. He’ll love you for that.”
“If he’s here. Lifa knows of the animosity between us.”
He made a noncommittal sound. “The other ships are Eirik’s. Or are they the ones he gave Magnus?”
“Yes, so that means he’s here with a large number of men. Good.” Perhaps Silvi also came, as a healer. Not that he didn’t have his own, but she was gifted in so many ways. In that, Magnus was fortunate. Perhaps with both Lifa and Silvi here, his own keel would be deeper and steadier in a rough sea. And it would be rough.
None of them were going to appreciate the outcome with Elfwynn. The women of Vargfjell had already made their displeasure with him known before he’d left for Hedeby. What were they going to do when he brought her back? They would have to accept his decision regarding her. It was a strong hand that held the sword protecting them. He couldn’t loosen it.
The ship drew closer to the docks. People gathered there to welcome them back and the ache in his head grew worse.
He’d snapped, there in Hedeby. He’d been able to keep the fires in his mind from burning for so long. Lifa and Silvi’s love had given him that ability years ago. At the church in Hedeby, though, the priests had refused to pay him what he needed. He could take no less or it would appear he had bowed to them. Word would spread that he had crawled before the White Christ.
In frustration, he’d threatened them, which only angered them and they swore he’d never trade there again. Then he’d heard Elfwynn had disappeared into the town. There was no telling what might have happened to her. She could have been raped or killed. Or enslaved . . .
Exactly what he had tried to do to her. The pain blazed in his head and he rubbed the back of his neck harder. When he’d seen her near the church, and the priest had tried to shield her from him, all he could think of was that someone was keeping him from something he wanted. The damned priest dared to stand up to him, with half the town watching. A weakling priest, by the gods. And then Elfwynn hit him.
To be struck in battle was one thing. He expected it and could brace himself against the memories, use the rage to crush his opponent. This time was different. He hadn’t seen it coming.
Everything had crashed down on him. The red haze had filled him. He hadn’t seen anything else because of the rage. Then, Elfwynn said his name. She’d never done that before. It was as though the breath she’d used to speak it was a gentle breeze, dissipating the scarlet haze and the fires scorching everything he was.
The next thing he knew, that bastard, Ibrahim, was smacking his oily lips over her and she was looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. He’d realized what he’d done and panic had gripped him. He’d faced scores of armies, kings, fleets of warships, and none of it had seized him with fear. This had.
He studied her as he guided the ship across the bay. She stood straight, unmoving, her chin raised. But it was all a show. Ever since that instant in front of Ibrahim’s house, she’d had a look in her eyes of sorrow, hopelessness, defeat.
His gut twisted. All he’d known was that he had to get her away from there. He couldn’t lose her, not only to the Arab, but to anyone. He’d babbled something to the slaver, all the while praying to his gods he’d be able to keep hold of her long enough to make it to his ship. The flames in his mind had turned to ice as chills ran down his spine. He barely remembered how they got to the ship, but they had. And even though the officials from the Church and Horik were hard on their heels, he’d gotten away. By the time they could have found a ship to give chase, he’d been well out into the Schlei Fjord and heading for the islands south of the Kattegat where he could lose them.
He allowed himself a tiny smile. Then they’d run into Alvida. She was a formidable rival, and even, at times, an ally. Their relationship, for want of a better term, was a strange one, but it served them both well. It could be said they traded their goods with each other. Only it was with brawling, instead of bargaining. The men loved it. And he always hid the best of his cargo, like his wine, beneath the decking of his ship. She most likely did the same. Better it got wet than stolen.
When he’d seen the pirate creeping into Elfwynn’s tent, he’d pushed three men into the water, including his own, to get to her. But they’d both come flying back out, she with her knife, and he’d had to pull her away before any real blood was shed. She was more shieldmaiden than she knew.
He’d been so angry at all the havoc she’d wreaked in his life, that he’d told his men he planned on making her his slave to repay him. On the days-long journey, though, he’d come to his senses. But because, like an idiot, he’d announced it to them, he couldn’t entirely go back on it. He’d lost enough face with his warriors that he couldn’t afford to slip any further. Already, they gave him surly looks. His prestige was eroding. Men didn’t follow a weak leader. He needed every man he had, especially now. Needed them and their respect.
He could, however, amend his pledge, and in a way Elfwynn might not mind. He grimaced. In the small ship, she’d heard his proclamation about her status. She’d turned away, tears on her cheeks. Those glistening drops had torn his heart a little more.
He’d keep his word, though, about making it right with her. He’d just have to balance it with what he needed to do to keep his reputation safe. That was the only way to keep his people safe as well. Of the two, the latter was far more important.
The men loosened the sail so the ship glided gently to the dock as he steadied the rudder. Others on the pier caught the lines they threw them, stopping the ship. Of course it was done perfectly. He paid a great price to have only the best warriors with him. And that price had just become steeper because of the harm he’d had to do to Elfwynn to ensure they continued to respect him.
Magnus, Eirik, and Leif waited on the shore. Asa and Silvi were with them, but Lifa wasn’t there. He sighed in relief. Of all of them, her displeasure about Elfwynn would be the hardest for him to take. It was likely Asa had already told Magnus and Silvi about their meeting in Haardvik. It would be difficult enough explaining himself to Lifa as it was. He didn’t need them outnumbering him too much.
Galinn helped Elfwynn onto the dock. Damn him. Rorik leaped off and stepped between them. “My thanks, Galinn. See to the cargo.”
Galinn glanced between them, then nodded and jumped back onto the ship. Elfwynn stood still, her eyes moist and distant.
“So what shall I call you now? Master?” Her chin quivered as she raised it.
Call me Rorik, as you did once. “No. Whatever else you like.”
“You wouldn’t approve of what else I’d like to call you.”
“I imagine not.” If only he could take her in his arms, wipe away her tears, right here. Right now. But he had enough to do. His men would see to the cargo, but Eirik and the others waited for him. They were allies and family. They had to come first.
“Go to the longhouse. You know the small chamber next to mine? Go there and wait for me. I have to speak with you.”
“Is that to be my prison, then? A tiny room? Is that where you keep your slaves?”
“No, I don’t keep slaves and you know it. The chamber was my mother’s, so she could nurse us and care for us in private when we were young. It’s very comfortable. No prison. No locks. Elfwynn, look at me.”
She didn’t. Not for many moments. Then she raised her eyes to his. The pain in them was a sword driven straight into him.
“I told you I’ll make this right. And so I will. You’re not a slave and I think you’ll be pleased with what I have in mind. Just go there and wait for me.”
She dropped her gaze and nodded. As she walked to the path leading to the village, he followed her. She gave Asa and the others a slight nod, then continued on. Eirik frowned at him.
“What in Hel’s name, Rorik? I thought she was go
ing to her church in Hedeby.”
Galinn walked past, carrying a crate. “No, she’s his slave now.” He wasn’t smiling.
Eirik, Asa, Silvi, Magnus, and Leif all turned to him as one, their expressions dark. Asa put her hand on her seax, but Eirik grabbed her wrist. She clenched her jaw as she tried to free herself, but Eirik didn’t move and didn’t let go. Thank the gods.
Rorik held up his hand. “No, she’s not. Plans changed a bit in Hedeby. It’s been a long voyage and I’d like a cup of fresh ale. Let’s go to the longhouse and I’ll tell you everything.”
After that, he’d be fortunate if Eirik didn’t turn Asa loose on him. And if they all didn’t join her.
* * *
The day was getting better and better.
Rorik sat alone at a table in the longhouse, sipping another ale. It was mid afternoon and few people were there. He’d had food and drink brought to Elfwynn. Now if only he could find the courage to talk with her.
His family hadn’t been very understanding as he’d explained what had happened. True, they hadn’t killed him. Asa had even settled down. Slightly. Eirik had offered to pay Elfwynn’s ransom. He’d refused. The arguments had begun at that point and the situation had sunk faster than a ship full of cargo in the North Sea.
It also turned out that Lifa was there. Of course. She was reading runes for some of his people who lived further inland, but she would be back before the evening meal. With Nuallen.
He had enough trouble with the Northumbrian’s hatred without adding Lifa’s displeasure to the mix. Rorik didn’t know what in the name of the gods that man was, but he was more shadow than flesh. It was said he could kill a man without his victim knowing it. If Lifa even looked wrong at Rorik, that would be excuse enough for Nuallen. Between one breath and the next, Rorik would find himself in Valhalla. When he died, he at least wanted to see who his slayer was, so he could find him again there and kill him over and over until Ragnarok took them all.
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