Viking Passion

by Speer, Flora

  “You will never have me again,” she declared, panting as she tried to push him away. “You are no better than Snorri. I hate your whole family for what you’ve done.”

  They wrestled together, rolling back and forth on the bed. Erik was perilously close to achieving his objective when Lenora, with a desperate effort, pushed him onto the floor. He sat up, shaking his head with a stunned expression.

  “Get out, you drunken brute,” she cried. “You are truly Snorri’s brother to take an unwilling woman. Go back to Erna.”

  He pulled himself to his feet and stood blinking down at her, swaying slightly.

  “You are not unwilling,” he announced with mead-induced gravity. “And I do not want Erna. I want you.”

  “Well, I do not want you. I never want to lie with you again.” Lenora’s voice cracked with anger as she slapped at him.

  He caught her hands and pulled her roughly against his chest.

  “You have nothing to say about it. When your master desires you,” he reminded her, “you must submit.”

  “Leave me alone,” she screamed, all self-control gone. “I can’t stand the sight of you.”

  Relentlessly he bore her back onto the bed. Lenora fought and clawed and bit and scratched, but he would not be stopped. In her weakened state her strength soon ebbed.

  “Put your arms around me, hold me,” he pleaded.

  “No, no.” She was nearly sobbing now. The harder she tried to get away from him, the closer his body pressed against hers. She tossed her head from side to side, trying to avoid his mouth. It was hopeless. As she twisted helplessly beneath him, his lips met hers.

  She would not give in to him, she would not. She despised him. But, ah, his mouth was sweet, and even in his drunken and angry condition he was not brutal. There was no fighting him; he was too strong for her. Her body, that weak vessel for her bruised yet unconquered spirit, was even now surrendering, rising to meet him, accepting him, enfolding him.

  She wanted no pleasure from their union; she wanted only a quick martyrdom under his imperative masculinity. He would not allow it. He caught her up with him and carried her along on his passion until at last her unwilling arms did encircle him, and in the instant before his final cry of joy and despair her mouth softened and opened and drew him in and held him, and he tasted her tears and her sweetness together.

  “I hate you,” she whispered into the thick hair of his muscular chest. “I will always hate you. I’ll never stop.”

  “Lenora.” His arms held her in unbreakable bondage. “My sweet, comforting Lenora.” He sighed deeply and pulled her closer.

  “Erik?” She lifted her head to meet his eyes, but he was asleep. She tried to slip out of his grasp, but his arms tightened. Finally she gave up and snuggled into his warmth, drifting off to sleep beside him.

  Snorri came home two days later to find a divided family. Gunhilde, always jealous of her position, had taken over management of Thorkellshavn as soon as the ashes from Thorkell’s funeral pyre had been gathered up and buried. Although there were a few who would have preferred to see Erik elected to fill Thorkell’s position as chieftain, there was general agreement that Snorri would be chosen once he arrived home safely from his latest voyage. Thus there was no opposition to Gunhilde’s actions.

  “Snorri has inherited his father’s possessions,” Gunhilde announced unnecessarily, “even though he does not know it yet. As his wife, I will manage his affairs in his absence. Give me the keys, Freydis.”

  Gunhilde’s stubborn chin tilted upward and she looked at Freydis with a mocking expression, not troubling to hide her pleasure at Freydis’ enforced submission.

  Freydis, her face white with fury at such treatment before all those assembled for the evening’s feast, unfastened the keys that hung suspended on silver chains from her right shoulder brooch. Silently she handed them to Gunhilde.

  “Tola,” Gunhilde said, “from this day you will follow my orders only.”

  “Tola is my personal servant.” Freydis’ voice dripped scorn. “Since you are so well informed about household matters, I thought you knew as much. Tola belongs to me.”

  “Then my woman Signe will take over Tola’s duties in the kitchen and hall,” Gunhilde replied. “Let Tola help you with your clothes and your hair, dear Freydis. You will need such assistance for you are to wed soon, and you must look your best for your bridegroom.”

  Freydis went even whiter at these words. “I have no plans to marry.”

  “But I have plans for you, sister. My cousin Kare is coming to visit in the spring. You will like him, I know.”

  “Ha,” Tola whispered to Lenora. “I’ve seen that Kare. He’s fat, and his eyes look in opposite directions. My mistress won’t want him.”

  “Gunhilde doesn’t want a rival in her home,” Lenora observed. “That’s why she wants Freydis to marry and leave Thorkellshavn.”

  “You had better be careful too,” Tola said. “Gunhilde remembers how Erik kept her from ruling Thorkellshavn while Freydis was sick. For that insult, she dislikes Erik almost as much as Snorri does, and she doesn’t like you much more. She will make trouble for the two of you if she can.”

  Later that night Lenora returned from the kitchen to find Halfdan and Erik in deep conversation in Erik’s house.

  “Come in and shut the door,” Erik said. “Are you alone?”

  “Yes. Tola has gone to Freydis.”

  “Good. Tola means well, but she talks too much. You are not to repeat anything you hear, Lenora.” Turning to Halfdan, Erik continued. “We will dig it up a little later, after everyone is asleep. If you leave early enough, just before dawn, no one will notice how much you are carrying. Are your men all trustworthy?”

  “Completely. Shall I return here afterward?”

  “I think you should stay with your father. I may need someone in a place of safety.”

  “I wish I could take Freydis with me,” Halfdan said. “I’m worried about her. Gunhilde hates her.”

  “She will not leave until Snorri returns. After she talks with him, if Snorri agrees with Gunhilde about this proposed marriage, then Freydis may decide to go. I am certain she will refuse to marry Kare, and that is her right. Gunhilde cannot force Freydis to marry.”

  “Gunhilde can make life very unpleasant for Freydis if she does not agree to marry,” Lenora put in. “Gunhilde is a determined woman.”

  “So am I determined.” Erik stood up. “Let’s go, Halfdan. Lenora, remain here while we are gone. Open the door only to Halfdan or me. We won’t be long.”

  Muffling their faces in their cloaks, the two men went out. Lenora fastened the door and sat down to wait.

  She needed this time alone to sort out her confused thoughts. Her old hatred of the Norse, and her desire for revenge against them, had returned in a great surge of fury as she watched Thorkell’s funeral pyre burning. She could not bear to think of what had been done to Edwina.

  She blamed Erik, believing he could have stopped Edwina’s death if he had wanted to do so. She would never forgive him for letting her friend die. And yet she knew he had done what he had out of love for his father, and in her deepest, most secret heart, she acknowledged Edwina’s eagerness for her fate. Lenora could not deny she had wanted Erik when he had come to her, wanted him to hold and comfort her for her loss while she did the same for him. How could she hate him and need him so desperately at the same time? No matter how long or how hard she thought, Lenora could find no answer to that question. The only thing she was sure of was that, with Snorri and Gunhilde ruling Thorkellshavn, her safest course was to be as agreeable as possible to Erik, and to stay as close to him as he would allow.

  When Erik and Halfdan finally returned each man carried a heavy leather sack, encrusted with dirt and leaves. These they dumped out onto the bed. Lenora cried out in wonder.

  “Be quiet,” Erik ordered, his voice low and urgent. “We don’t want anyone to hear us. Snorri’s friends must not know what we are doing this
night.”

  “I’m sorry,” Lenora said in hasty apology. “I was just so surprised. I have never seen so much silver in one place before.” She could not take her eyes off the lustrous metal. Cups and plates, twisted wires made into neck-rings and armbands, but most of all, coins, lay scattered before them on the bed-shelf. “Where did you get this? And if it has been buried, as it must have been from all this earth on the bags, why isn’t it black?”

  “It hasn’t been buried very long,” Erik said. “This is my portion of Thorkell’s hoard. He gave it to me when he became sick. He remembered the volva’s prophecy and thought he might die. He decided to provide for me in advance.”

  “We are lucky Snorri is away,” Halfdan added. “There will surely be trouble when he returns. You see, Lenora, although the oldest son inherits, he will usually pay the younger ones some compensation, so they can travel abroad to make their fortunes, or so they can set up their own homes. Snorri will never do that for Erik, and Thorkell knew it. Now, Snorri’s absence gives us time to make other arrangements.”

  “What will you do with all of this?” Lenora picked up a coin. There was strange writing on it. “What does it say?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t read Arabic.” Erik’s worried eyes searched her face. “Can I trust you? Well, it’s too late if I can’t. Halfdan is going to take this hoard to his father for safekeeping. You are going to help us pack it. Unload that chest. We will also need the chest from Miklagard. Take everything out of it but the books.”

  “You are sending the books away too?”

  “Snorri will only burn them if there is trouble. Go on, Lenora.”

  They worked as quickly as possible. When the chests were packed and locked, Halfdan left, returning with two strong male servants. The four men carried the chests out to load them on a cart, leaving Lenora to bundle the last few pieces into the leather sacks.

  “Here.” She thrust the package at Halfdan when he returned. “It is almost daylight. You must go.”

  “Be careful, Lenora. This is a dangerous place now that Thorkell is dead.” Halfdan’s blue eyes were shadowed. “If Freydis asks for me, tell her only that I have gone to my father. For her own safety, she cannot know about this hoard of Erik’s.”

  “Freydis and I do not speak much these days,” Lenora said, “but I will tell no one about the silver.”

  Halfdan’s big hand patted her shoulder.

  “Until we meet again, Lenora. Keep well, brother.” The two men embraced, clapping each other on the back, and then Halfdan was gone.

  It was later the same morning that Snorri’s ship appeared, oars moving rhythmically as it progressed upriver to its anchorage at Thorkellshavn.

  Snorri did not seem at all distressed at the news of his father’s death. He strode into the great hall and seated himself on the arm of Thorkell’s chair. He did not take the seat itself, for that was reserved for the master of Thorkellshavn.

  “We will elect a new chieftain tonight,” he announced, to uproarious acclaim. Turning to Gunhilde, standing at his side, he added, “And then we will celebrate my homecoming seated together upon Thorkell’s chair.”

  Gunhilde’s expression as she looked back at her husband was warmer and more respectful than Lenora had ever seen it.

  Next, Snorri made his way to Thorkell’s chambers, followed by Erik and Lenora.

  “I have completed Thorkell’s work,” Erik told him. “Here is a list of all our father’s lands and possessions.”

  Snorri, who could not read, squinted at the sheets of parchment.

  “What do I care for lists?” he said. “I own Thorkell’s hoard now. And even you, clever Erik, do not know where it is buried. Thorkell told only me.”

  Erik shrugged. “I know the law,” he replied. “All of Thorkell’s debts have been paid. It was done with Gunhilde’s agreement. Now everything that was Thorkell’s is yours.”

  “Except for one debt,” Lenora spoke up. “Erik, you forgot to pay me. Thorkell promised me silver coins for the work I did for him in this room, so I could eventually buy my freedom. He was holding the money for me. There is a record of it.”

  “I did not forget,” Erik said, looking annoyed that she had raised the subject. “I did not want to discuss it with Gunhilde. I will take care of that debt myself.”

  “Indeed you will.” Snorri laughed. “I will not pay my silver to any slave, certainly not to another man’s wench. Now leave me, both of you.”

  Lenora would have said more, would have protested the unfairness of Erik having to pay a debt his father had incurred, but the look he gave her stopped the angry words before they left her tongue. It seemed to her that Erik was pleading with her to remain silent. Looking from his face to Snorri’s, she understood how foolish it would be to antagonize the man who was now the most powerful person in Thorkellshavn.

  “I told you to get out,” Snorri said rudely. “This is my room now. Don’t enter it again.”

  In silence Erik opened the door, holding it so Lenora could pass.

  “Treat your slave like that,” Snorri said, noting the courtesy, “and before long she will rule you. But you are easily ruled, aren’t you, Erik?”

  Without responding to the taunt, Erik closed the door behind himself and Lenora. Then, with his arm across her shoulders, he took her up the path and into his own house.

  “Now we can speak more freely,” he said. “Don’t talk to Snorri or Gunhilde unless it’s absolutely necessary, and then be extremely polite.”

  “He has cheated me of the silver I earned,” Lenora began.

  “The money is unimportant.” He made an impatient gesture with one hand. His apparent indifference angered her.

  “It is important to me. I want to buy my freedom. It’s the only hope I have left,” she ended in a broken whisper.

  “I understand.” With a deep sigh he put his arms around her. “But for the moment it is safer for you to have no coins of your own, and to remain my slave. Trust me, Lenora, please.”

  “How can I, after the things you’ve done?” She tried to pull away from him, but he held her so that she was forced to look into his shadowed eyes.

  “You will trust me,” he said just before his mouth touched hers, “because in Thorkellshavn there is no one else to trust, and because you desire me as much as I want you.”

  Chapter 14

  That night, as almost everyone had expected, Snorri was elected chieftain to replace Thorkell. He took his seat on Thorkell’s wide chair to cheers and applause. Gunhilde, her head held high and her eyes sparkling, proudly took her place beside him. She glittered with gold and silver necklaces and many bracelets, as befitted a chieftain’s wife. Her shoulder brooches were huge and ornate in design, holding up a gown of fine, gold-colored wool.

  “She likes him better now,” Tola said. “Gunhilde likes a man with power. Signe says they spent a long time alone in their chamber. Snorri will want a legitimate son as soon as possible. Although, if Gunhilde proves barren, he has illegitimate sons he could adopt. Half the children in Thorkellshavn are his. Snorri will never lack for an heir.”

  “You gossip too much, Tola.” Lenora’s antipathy toward Snorri was stronger than it had ever been. She could not see him without remembering what he had done to her family and how he had cheated her.

  Lenora picked up a pitcher of ale and carried it to the double seat across the firepit from Snorri, where Freydis and Erik were sitting. After filling their cups, Lenora took her place on a stool by Erik’s side.

  Now came the time for the members of Thorkell’s hird to pledge themselves to the new chieftain. One by one the tall young men of the bodyguard came forward, knelt on the hard earthen floor, set their hands on Snorri ‘s sword hilt, and swore loyalty unto death. Lenora noticed a few who hung back, coming forward only reluctantly after being cajoled by their fellows. There were several who stayed in the dark corners of the vast hall and did not come forward at all.

  Toasts were drunk to Snorri’s good h
ealth, and then to Gunhilde’s. More toasts followed, to the large number of sons the couple was expected to produce, to the success of Snorri’s latest voyage, the spoils of which had been divided that afternoon, and, finally, toasts to the well-being of the folk of Snorri’s household.

  “Erik,” Snorri called across the room, “where is your friend Halfdan? Why is he not here to wish me well?”

  “He left early this morning to visit his father,” Erik replied. “Had he known you would return so soon, he would have waited.”

  “I’ll send a man after him,” Snorri said. “Hrolf, Bjarni, which of you will ride after Halfdan and bring him back?”

  Lenora glanced anxiously at Erik. The pleasant expression on his face revealed nothing of what he must be feeling at Snorri’s suggestion.

  “Do not take your men away from the celebrations, Snorri,” Erik said easily. “Halfdan is too far along the road to Limfjord for them to catch him quickly. Once he has seen his father he will return, and we can have another feast then.”

  “I can have another feast,” Snorri replied, emphasizing the pronoun,” “but only if I chose. I make the decisions here now, Erik.”

  “I know that.” Erik refused to rise to Snorri’s challenge. “I only meant the family could welcome Halfdan’s return.”

  “You are not part of my family.”

  “Thorkell adopted me. I am your brother and you are mine.”

  “I don’t care what Thorkell did. I want nothing to do with you. It would please me to see you dead. It would please me even more to kill you myself.”

  The great hall had grown steadily quieter during this exchange. Now Snorri’s harsh, grating tones were the only sound in the room, seeming all the harsher when followed by Erik’s almost gentle voice.

  “You may try whatever you like, Snorri.”

  “Stop this.” Freydis sounded strained. “Whatever you might wish, Snorri, you and Erik are brothers.”