“Let us go in quietly,” he said. “I do not wish to startle them.”
“Startle them, ha!” Gurd said, and spat over the side of the boat. “That damned woman, she’s playing the man. We should kill her.”
It was Entti who saw them. The wounded men at their feet were forgotten.
Mirana cursed, pulled her knife from the moaning Odom’s shoulder, and ran, Entti behind her, Hafter’s bloody sword dragging in the sand.
“Why is Entti running away?” Hafter said. “She is Mirana’s prisoner no more. Surely she must realize that. She should be running to me. I know she saw me and recognized me. She can’t be that witless. She knows I will take care of her, save her from the witch.”
Rorik said nothing more until they’d pulled their warship onto the beach to rest beside the other one.
The women had long since disappeared into the trees by the time the men jumped from the warship onto the dark sand. The wounded men were also gone, both of them leaving trails of blood in the sand. The sun disappeared behind thick gray clouds. More rain threatened.
“Come,” Rorik said, and ran to where they had disappeared. When they reached the treeline, he stopped, and said, “Askhold, come here. We must track them now.”
“We will hear them,” Gurd said. “Rorik, you believe this woman to be beyond a woman, and that is madness. She is naught but a female when all is said and done. Aye, the two of them will make more noise than ten boars thrashing through this heavy undergrowth. They have no skill in—”
Rorik just shook his head, silencing Gurd.
“It is difficult,” Askhold said at last. “There are different footsteps here and they are merged together. It is the two men who were with the women, but I cannot be certain whose feet belong to the women, there is too much confusion, too much overlapping. See the spots of blood? It’s from one or both of the men, but again, there is too much confusion to know which blood spots belong where.”
“So,” Rorik said, “she saw their steps and is trying to copy them to lead us astray.”
“Aye,” Gurd said, and spat in a mess of leaves, “now you’ll be saying that she cut herself to mix her blood with theirs to confuse us all the more.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised at anything she would do,” Rorik said. “I will tell all of you again, but you, Gurd, you will really listen to my words. Mirana is smart; she knows guile, she sleeps with cunning close to her breast.”
“Aye,” Askhold said, his eyes gleaming. “You were right, Rorik. She has a man’s brain. Hold your thoughts to yourself, Gurd, they are useless to you and to us.”
Gurd looked both furious and uncertain, an unusual combination in the blacksmith, who had always known the way of things even when he was in the wrong. Then he just shook his head, and held his tongue.
Rorik said nothing more. He walked back to the beach and sat down two feet beyond the water line. He stared over the water, at the roiling heavy waves, churning and crashing onto the dirty sand.
His men looked at each other, but said nothing.
Rorik sat there quietly for some minutes. Then he rose, stretched, and said in surely an overloud voice, “Hafter, you will stay with me.” He divided the other men into two groups and told them what to do, again, his voice loud and carrying. They looked at him oddly, but nodded.
“And where will we go?” Hafter said, watching the other men disappear into the trees.
Rorik didn’t look at him as he said quietly, “We will go into the maple woods just yon. Then we will double back and go over there, just beyond the point, and hide behind those black rocks.”
Hafter started to laugh, then he frowned, and slowly, his eyes never leaving Rorik’s face, he, like the other men, nodded. “So that is why you nearly yelled in our ears.”
“Aye,” Rorik said, and grinned. “Now, let’s make a good show of it.”
The two men slung water bags over their shoulders, arranged their weapons, strapped small packets of food to their waists, then strode toward the woods in the opposite direction of the other two groups. They looked purposeful; they looked determined. They looked ready to search until they collapsed from exhaustion.
“Patience,” Mirana said, lightly tugging back on Entti’s sleeve.
“But they’ve been gone a very long time.”
“Not long at all,” Mirana said. “Rorik is smart as a snake. Doubt it not. I don’t trust him.”
“He’s a man and thus he believes women are weak and silly and without subtlety. He and Hafter are at least a mile from here now. You saw how he gave the other men orders, you saw how they walked—so sure of themselves—the direction they took. Let us go, Mirana. What if those men we wounded return with others? They will kill us, do not doubt it.”
Entti was right, but still Mirana didn’t like it. The sun was shining again, the bulging gray rain clouds dispersing, and she knew they could gain distance from Rorik in the warship, even with just the two of them rowing, but still, she didn’t trust him. She didn’t know why she felt so strongly, but she did. Why would Rorik leave no one to guard the warships? Aye, that was it, that was why she knew, simply knew that something wasn’t as it appeared to be. And why had he spoken so loudly? Still, Entti was right. If the men they’d wounded returned with others, they would be in grave trouble.
Entti said, “We will steal the food from their warship and then cut it adrift. We will escape them for good this time. They know we are holding close to shore. Did you not tell me there were several large islands just off the coast? We could hide amongst the inlets. That would confuse them if somehow they managed to regain their warship, if somehow they managed to keep after us.”
Mirana sighed, for Entti was speaking to her with a bit of sarcasm, as one would to a stubborn child. She smiled at the irony of it. “You’re right and your plan is a good one. Perhaps it is time. Perhaps I am wrong about Rorik this time, ah, but it vexes me, Entti.”
“You worry overmuch. I feel so itchy to move, I think I’ll scream if I have to hide here a moment longer. There are sand fleas here, Mirana.”
She and Mirana rose and stretched, then walked slowly forward, peering through the dense foliage onto the beach. There was no one to be seen, not in any direction. It was silent. Odom and Erm were probably back at their farmsteads, getting more men together. She’d been surprised that they could move so quickly with their wounds, but they were running from the beach the moment they’d seen Rorik and his men leap over the side of their longboat into the surf. Entti was right. They had to leave and they had to do it quickly. It made no difference that Rorik had left both warships unguarded.
“All right,” she said. “Quickly, Entti!” They bolted from the cover of the trees and ran as fast as they could toward the longboats.
“Hurry, Entti, fetch whatever there is from Rorik’s warship, but move quickly!”
She herself was pushing with all her strength at the bow of Rorik’s warship, grunting as it eased very slowly on the wet sand toward the water. She felt fear pounding through her, and strength she didn’t know she had. She pushed harder, then harder still. A huge wave burst onto the sand and the warship finally slid forward toward the water.
Entti shouted that she’d found water skins, food bags and weapons. She was crowing, rubbing her hands together, smiling as Mirana had never seen her smile before. “Aye, perhaps I’ll leave Hafter his sword. It has that fool’s blood on it. Aye, here’s a clean one I’ll take!”
“Hurry, Entti!”
“Mirana, they’re leagues from here. You give Rorik too much credit. He isn’t a god, he’s just a man, like all the other men. Stop your fretting.”
“No, Entti, you’re quite wrong.”
At the sound of Rorik’s voice, Mirana felt herself grow very still. She felt suddenly very cold. She’d known, by all the gods, she’d known how smart he was, how treacherous.
She slowly turned to face him. Hafter stood at his right, his eyes on Entti.
“I knew,” Mirana said,
her voice dull, “I knew we wouldn’t trick you.”
“Ah, I knew as well that you wouldn’t dash off into the woods, not knowing where to go. You’re not a fool. And there are those men you and Entti wounded. It was well done of you, but again, I knew you wouldn’t leave because those men and their families just might be waiting for you. You did well, but you couldn’t escape me, Mirana. You will never escape me.”
Slowly, Mirana drew the knife. There were still flecks of Odom’s blood drying on it. “We’re leaving, Rorik. Entti! Come here and bring the food and water.”
Hafter looked at Mirana as if she were a fool. He grinned toward Entti and called out, “You don’t have to obey her any longer, sweeting. Be a good girl and come to me. I will take care of you. I won’t let her hurt you anymore. If she has promised you rewards to help her reach her brother, she is lying. Come, sweeting.”
Suddenly Entti looked perplexed, like a child who couldn’t understand why her parents were arguing. She looked from Mirana back to Hafter. He stretched out his hand to her. “Come, Entti, I’ll see that she doesn’t hurt you ever again. You can believe me, trust me.”
“All right,” Entti whispered. Only Mirana saw the glimmer of Hafter’s sword she’d slipped alongside her body, hidden in the folds of her gown. Hadn’t Hafter heard her speaking? Was he so caught in his belief of her as a sweet halfwit that he couldn’t grasp anything else?
Hafter was smiling at Entti and nodding, his expression gentle and reassuring, the look one would give to a slow child. But his stance was smug and confident. As for Rorik, he never looked away from Mirana’s face. She saw him begin to frown and wondered if he were beginning to doubt Entti.
She held herself perfectly still, as if deep in thought, waiting tense and anxious.
Suddenly, Rorik heard a choking yell. He whipped about to see Hafter falling slowly to his knees in the sand. He was clutching his head and he stared up at Entti, who stood over him, the sword handle extended.
“Don’t move, Hafter,” she said, this voice very different from the voice he knew. It was the voice he’d heard just before he and Rorik had come out to catch them, but then he’d thought he was mistaken, he’d thought . . . He wanted to vomit, from the blow and from his own stupidity.
Rorik yelled, “By Thor’s hammer, what is the meaning of this!” He took a step toward Hafter, then stopped in his tracks. He shook his head. “Never,” he said, looking from Entti to Mirana, “never again will I underestimate a woman. You are no simple female, are you, Entti? No sweet-faced child to warm a man’s bed and smile at his jests. You aren’t Mirana’s hostage and you never were. By all the gods, I was a fool to disbelieve what my good sense was screaming at me. I was a fool to disregard the very words I heard you speaking to Mirana, no witless child’s words they were.”
“Go away, Lord Rorik,” Mirana said, her voice cold as the night wind. “Go away. Hafter will be all right. Evidently Entti has some liking for him and thus didn’t kill him. Go away. I have no wish to hurt you and now it is the two of us against you. We will win, Rorik. Entti knows weapons as well as I do. Aye, she is vicious with that sword and she won’t hesitate to stick it through your belly. Do not forget the feel of my knife in your throat. I will do it again, only this time, your blood will spurt out onto the sand. Go away.”
She didn’t believe what she’d said for a single instant, but there was no hesitation, no uncertainty in her voice.
Rorik looked undecided. Had he believed her? She had sounded vicious, very sure of herself. Was it possible he was frightened of her? She had never seen this expression before and was instantly wary. No, she wouldn’t fall into his trap again. She would sooner trust Odom the bull. She took a step back from him, keeping the knife pointed out in front of her, aimed at his chest.
He sighed, then said, his hands splayed in front of him, “You plan to push both warships into the sea. What will I do? I have no wish to be stranded here. Those warships are valuable. They cost me much silver.”
“I am sorry, but you would follow us, and I cannot take the chance.”
“What if I swear to let you go,” he said very quietly, his eyes never leaving her face.
She stared at him, not knowing what was in his mind, but this man who sounded as if he were pleading, as if he were trying to bargain with her, she didn’t recognize. The Rorik she knew never bargained. He commanded, he ordered. He never gave an inch, never faltered or acted the supplicant. Something wasn’t right and she felt her belly knot and twist. She took another step away from him.
She shouted over her shoulder, “Entti, come here. Leave Hafter. You’ve downed him. Don’t worry about him now, he will survive the pain to his head.”
Entti, after one final look at Hafter, turned away to do Mirana’s bidding. Suddenly Hafter jerked upward and tackled her, slamming her facedown onto the sand, coming down hard on her back. He twisted the sword from her hand and flung it beyond her reach. She struggled wildly with him but it did no good. He was large and he was heavy and he simply lay flat on her, forcing her face into the wet sand.
As Mirana cried out, turning to run to help Entti, Rorik was on her, grabbing and twisting her wrist until he felt the bones twisting, ready to break beneath his strength. Still, she didn’t release the knife, if anything her fingers tightened around the ivory handle. He hardened his grip. He stared down at her face, saw her eyes nearly black with pain and determination.
“You cannot win now, Mirana, for I am the stronger. Surely you will realize that. I can tighten my hold and break every bone in your hand. Drop the knife, damn you. Drop it now.”
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SHE COULD ONLY shake her head, biting her tongue to keep from screaming. He suddenly jerked her arm upward, changing his grip, two fingers pressing on the inside of her wrist. Her fingers went instantly numb and the knife dropped to the wet sand, making not a sound.
She kicked him, but he was fast, and her knee struck his thigh, which was pain enough. A soft keening noise was coming from deep in her throat. There was a sheen of blankness in her eyes, the vivid green dull and glazed. She fought him mindlessly now, and he knew he had to put a stop to it. Rorik knew she was out of control.
He struck her jaw hard and clean. She sighed softly and sagged against him.
He yelled over his shoulder, “Have you gotten Entti conquered, Hafter?”
“Aye, but she has broken my head, and all because I wanted to care for her. I just wanted to save her from Mirana’s folly. I will never understand a woman, Rorik.”
“At least she didn’t stick the other end of the sword through your flesh. Be grateful for that.”
“Aye, I am. She must know I’ve a hard head. Ah, her perfidy still shocks me.” Rorik thought Hafter would burst into tears. “All I wanted to do was care for her.”
Entti tried again to rear up, to break away from him, but Hafter was strong and big. He pressed her back, even as she screamed at him over her shoulder, “Care for me! You stupid bastard, you’re naught but a selfish cruel animal! You bray like a mindless lout. You believe yourself so kind, so tender with a simpleminded slave. Aye, and why not? I never said you nay! If I had, you would have clouted me and raped me or just killed me! I should have killed you, more fool I. Aye, dead you would look as fetching as you believe yourself to be.”
“I do not believe you,” Hafter said slowly, still unwilling to accept this woman who was so different from the one he’d taken to his bed. She’d been such a simple woman and he’d given her so many smiles, all of them gentle, all of them filled with kindness, and he’d patted her as she’d passed him in genuine liking so many times, on her shoulder, on her bottom, aye, he’d even taken her hand and gently squeezed it. But the truth of it was that she was a shrew and a termagant, just like the other one whom Rorik was holding unconscious against him.
“Hafter,” Rorik called, “come now and get off her and tie her securely. Think before you act whenever you deal with either of them. After you tie Entti tightly, call the oth
er men. They are but twenty yards inland.”
“You told them to remain close by,” Hafter said slowly. He shook his head, saying low, “I am a great fool. I have seen nothing clearly, understood nothing.”
“Stop condemning yourself,” Rorik said. “All of us believed Entti to be different. I told the others to remain close by because I didn’t want them to get lost or come across any family or friends of the men brought low by these two docile females.”
He swung Mirana up into his arms. She didn’t weigh much, this woman who had too much fight in her, this damned woman who wouldn’t give up, even when she knew she couldn’t win, even when she knew he could kill her.
He didn’t want to kill her. He felt profound relief that he’d found her unharmed. If there was any abuse to be done, he wanted to be the one to do it.
“You killed her, you bastard!”
Rorik merely smiled at this new Entti with her narrowed, vicious eyes and a voice to pierce a man’s eardrums, and said, “Nay, her jaw is as hard as her head. I didn’t break it. I simply don’t wish to have to fight her more for a while. Hafter, tie those ropes more securely or she might do you in again. Get it into your brain that she isn’t simple, she isn’t willing or soft or meek.”
Rorik looked down at the woman in his arms. Her head lolled back, her white throat was bare. She looked defenseless. She looked very female, very soft, but by all the gods, he should know her better by now. The only thing soft about her was her white flesh. He needed her if he was ever going to gain revenge on her damned half-brother. But how to keep her from killing everyone on his island? He didn’t want to have to be on his guard all the time. But how to avoid keeping her tied to his bed? He hated doing it, hated seeing the raw flesh of her wrists when he changed from one wrist to the other. But he knew as well that the women would find a way to unchain her just as soon as he was gone from the farmstead, damn them for their loyalty to her, his enemy.
Lord of Hawkfell Island Page 12