The Viking's Captive

by Ingrid Hahn

  One person here this night with the cold grip of betrayal closing around his throat was enough. Hrolf didn’t need his own taste of the black abyss.

  Thorvald turned and walked away.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Alodie’s Unexpected Ally

  The demon called Ozrik helped Alodie up the hill while rain continued to pour down around them. The night was as black as could be, but a small light glowed ahead. Their destination, presumably. When she slipped, Ozrik caught her.

  It should have been Thorvald. But Thorvald had vanished and the young one with him was gone, too. All because he thought she’d betrayed him.

  Sure enough, the light was coming from a small hut. Ozrik knocked on the door and a woman answered. She was in her middle years, with uncovered wiry white hair escaping the plait standing in every direction.

  “Ozrik?” She glanced from him to Alodie and back again. “What’s going on?”

  “Birna, help us.”

  The woman opened the door wider. The space was small, narrow, and dark. Quite different from anything back home, but the principles were the same: a solid structure for people to cook, eat, work, and live, tending to all the scores of minor things required to sustain this mortal life. Ozrik didn’t release his hold on Alodie until she was in the chair by the fire.

  He knelt. “Are you all right?”

  Gently, he took her chin and moved her head from side to side, presumably examining her face for any marks resulting from violence. Alodie brushed him away. “The jarl never hit me.”

  “What’s going on? Why is she here? Is the jarl…?” The woman—Birna—pressed a drink into Alodie’s hands.

  Alodie brought the rim of the cup to her lips and allowed a small amount of water to pass into her mouth. It was clean and clear.

  “No.” Ozrik rose. “Unfortunately not. But I doubt he’ll be calling this one here ‘wife’ ever again.”

  That was something, at least. Alodie would not have to endure him. Her eyes fell closed. The man who…

  All she could see was the sorrow in her mother’s face. Why hadn’t anyone told Alodie the truth? The distance between this place at the end of the world and home never seemed greater. There were so many questions she’d never be able to ask.

  She’d come all this way with one intention. To survive. Now… Did she care any longer?

  “What do you mean? Did she cut off his conceiving limb?”

  Ozrik winced. “No, no. Nothing like that.”

  Alodie raised her head. “I’m not the princess.”

  The two of them exchanged glances. Birna perched herself on the edge of a bench near Alodie. The space was tucked into the wall and covered neatly with light bedding. “How did you come to be here if you are not?”

  She had a drop spindle, a little bird’s nest of wool in the clutch of her other hand, which she began spinning as Alodie spoke. Her fingers moved with a memory of their own, while the woman herself put all her attention on what Alodie said.

  “I served the real princess. I was the first one to see the ships off the shore and…” Another place. Another lifetime. Yet not so many days ago. In that interval, so many things had changed. Nothing she’d imagined would come to pass had done so. “When the messenger came with the news that the de—that the…that they wanted to speak with the princess, it was my idea to pretend to be her. So he thought I was. Then he and one of his men caught me in the chapel and took me.”

  “Caught you in the…chapel?”

  Alodie nodded, not bothering to explain the word that had given Birna pause. “It was the middle of the night. I couldn’t sleep. I thought maybe…well, it doesn’t matter now. I’d gone to pray and the other man had come to steal our treasure. Thorvald was there to stop him. It was merely misfortune that brought us there together.”

  Explaining that she’d come close to cutting it off would lead to questions she didn’t want to answer.

  Birna and Ozrik—who still stood—exchanged another glance. The woman raised her brows at him. “Stop him?”

  “Thorvald wouldn’t let us raid. Ubbi disobeyed him.”

  “Ubbi.” Birna’s mouth turned down at the corners. She was still spinning. “I don’t much care for the man, but it is odd that Thorvald didn’t let anyone take treasure. He’s taken plenty before.”

  Alodie fidgeted with the corner of the cloak. “Why did he tell the men not to take any this time?”

  Ozrik shook his head. “I wish I knew.”

  She bit her lip and stared into the last flames of the cooking fire. The wood had almost completely turned to ash. Maybe even then whatever hold the jarl had on Thorvald was already crumbling. If the men took treasure, they’d have to bring it back to their jarl. Warriors needed food and required payment.

  All except Thorvald, who’d never taken silver to serve the jarl. He had been coerced. Was it a secret the jarl had learned that Thorvald wanted concealed? The idea made a certain amount of sense. The man carried a burden. But perhaps that was merely the impression he’d given after losing his dear cousin.

  If it was a secret and the jarl was blackmailing Thorvald, was that better or worse than Thorvald being paid to do the jarl’s bidding?

  Birna looked back to Alodie. “And you never told him the truth about yourself.”

  Alodie pulled her gaze away from the fire. “Told Thorvald? Of course not. He’d have turned his ships around and gone straight back to take the real princess.”

  Ozrik spoke softly. “I’m sure he feels betrayed by the fact that you did not.”

  Her head snapped up. “This is not about him.”

  Birna nodded. “I’m sorry if he feels betrayed, but he did steal her. He always told me he wouldn’t take a person.”

  Ozrik frowned. “I’m not saying his behavior is in any way excused—”

  “Put yourself in her position,” Birna said.

  The warrior gave Alodie a searching look, as if trying to puzzle her out.

  At the time, she’d been terrified that Thorvald would have given her to his warriors—let them use her until she was worn out, then toss her into the sea when she was too broken for their purposes.

  Now she knew better. No matter how he felt about her, he’d never have done that. Some of his brethren might have. But not Thorvald. Captive or not, he’d treated her well. True, he’d thought her a princess and important to his purposes. But it went beyond that. He was…had been…

  She bit her lip, reliving the aftermath of being tossed in the mud. There was no reason to think well of Thorvald now.

  Ozrik’s expression turned dark. “It’s not impossible we might sail back within the week and try again. Last winter the jarl was ill—on the brink of death. Nobody thought he’d survive. When he did, he was obsessed with all the little slights he’d ever received in his life. He says everyone will be made to remember and pay for what they’d done to him. Like he’s trying to leave nothing undone before he dies. He talks about his burial. Says he doesn’t have enough silver to go into the ground.”

  “And sons.” Birna’s face was solemn. “He’s been obsessed with sons, too.”

  Not for the first time in her life did Alodie want to kneel down and thank God for creating her as a woman.

  But how could she thank God for her creation knowing she’d been brought into existence through violence? The worst, most despicable, most heinous violence one person could inflict upon another.

  Ozrik paced to one side of the narrow space then back again. “What are we going to do?”

  Something he’d said about the jarl gave Alodie pause. “Silver for burial…”

  They cast her matching curious glances. Birna softened. “Our jarls and great men like to rest in the earth with all they’ve accumulated.”

  Alodie bit her lip. “The princess was about to get married. Is there any way he could h
ave found out about it?”

  “Yes, probably.” Ozrik shrugged. “He traveled extensively last spring after recovering, visiting sea kings and other jarls. But why would that matter to him?”

  “Because if she were taken, there would be no bride. No bride, no wedding, no alliance. Which would have left us vulnerable to attack by the very men from whom we expected peace. And if we were fighting amongst ourselves, it’d have been all the easier for him to sweep in and take whatever he pleased. We’d have already been weak. We’d never have stood a chance against invasion.”

  There was a long pause. Ozrik said nothing.

  “Well, that seems highly plausible to me.” The older woman rose, wrapping up the yarn she’d spun on the spindle and tucking away the bit of wood and wool. “But…nothing more to be done about any of this tonight. It’s late. We’ll sleep and talk more in the morning.”

  Rest. Alodie glanced around nervously, but before she could ask where she might find a dry place for the night, Birna added, “You can have my bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  “No, no.” Alodie jumped to her feet. The cloak about her shoulders began to fall, but she caught it. “You can’t—I mean, I don’t expect you—”

  “We always take travelers. I doubt you are a god in disguise, but nevertheless, I will be happy to have you for as long as you have need.”

  Kindness from demons. Alodie was not one of theirs, but instead of leaving her out in the rainy night to die or starve, Ozrik had brought her here and now Birna was going to keep her.

  She could no longer think of these beings as demons. They were people. Even the jarl, monster though he was, to think of him as less than human would be to excuse what he’d done to Alodie’s mother. If he was anything less than fully human, he couldn’t be expected to help himself. He was a person and should be punished for what he’d inflicted upon another of his kind.

  Alodie didn’t need to think about that now. “I can work. I work very hard. I won’t be a burden.”

  Birna waved her hand. “It never entered my mind that you would be.” She looked to Ozrik, who’d gone to the door. “You can stay, too.”

  He turned back. “I’ll go down into the village and stay with Fasti. I want to know what is being said and where Thorvald has gone, if it’s known. I’ll return in the morning and we can talk more. Goodnight to you both.”

  Alodie woke to the smell of food cooking, blinking at the ceiling above her.

  It hadn’t been a nightmare. The jarl had claimed her as his wife, then revealed himself to have begotten her in a manner befitting the Devil. Learning she’d deceived him, Thorvald had turned away from her.

  Last night she hadn’t been certain she cared if she lived or died. The revelation about how she’d been brought into existence had been shattering. But that would have been surmountable. Or at least, it could have been left to die in the horrors of the past as long as the future promised to be sweeter.

  A small part of her she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge had expected that she and Thorvald might…might find a way. Together.

  And now…

  She closed her eyes again and pictured her mother’s face. To give up now would be to break faith. Everything her mother had endured and all the love she’d given her daughter in spite of the savage brutality forced upon her—it couldn’t be for nothing.

  Whatever Alodie’s new life was, she’d have to face it. She had no choice.

  Sitting up, she found Birna tending a riveted cauldron. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sleep so late.”

  Fresh air and sunshine came in through the open door. Alodie slipped from the warmth of the straw-filled ticking and light flaxen covering and made the bed neat again.

  Somewhere in the confused rush of the previous night, the elaborate plaiting the other women had worked painstakingly to arrange had come undone. The rain hadn’t helped, and sleeping on the damp mess had been all the worse. Alodie twisted the locks back self-consciously. She probably couldn’t have looked worse had she spent the night in a swamp.

  “You’ve endured much recently. The sleep likely did you good.” The older woman handed her a comb. “For your hair.”

  “Thank you.” Carefully, Alodie plucked through the tangles. When she’d finished, Birna handed her a tie—several strands of wool plaited together—to pull it away from her face. Alodie divided her hair into three equal locks and bound it together.

  Birna smiled as she dished them each a helping, and let Alodie have use of her knife to spear the meat. While waiting patiently until Alodie finished, she took out her spindle and moved elegantly through the motions, drawing the fluff of gray wool into thin strands. “When Thorvald and Sigurd were boys, they would wake in the earliest hours, do their chores, and run free. Very wild creatures they were, in all respects except one—I could always be assured they’d show up at mealtimes. Their bellies knew better than the sun when food would appear.”

  Alodie studied the woman. She’d nursed two small boys who’d grown into large warriors. A natural warmth radiated from her, nurturing and caring. It was easy to imagine her with children—shooing them gently out of mischief, soothing them when they hurt themselves, and singing them to sleep at night. “It’s difficult to imagine the men here ever having been boys.”

  “For me, it’s difficult to realize the time went by so quickly.” Her expression turned wistful. “After Thorvald’s father died, he changed. He’d never thought much of the jarl before, not having traveled much to the village except occasionally with his father and me to trade or see friends in those rare lulls during the year.”

  “What changed?”

  “He was at that time in a young man’s life when he needed an older man’s guidance more than anything. Someone to emulate and look up to.”

  Alodie stared down into her lap. Thorvald no doubt remembered those days of his youth—and keenly. He’d showed it with Hrolf, well beyond having allowed the younger man the victory in their fight. Maybe Thorvald had looked at him and saw what he’d once been, a young man hungry for the respect of older males. The sort of man and warrior he had wanted to be.

  From the open door, a figure traversed the path from the village up to Birna’s hut. It was probably Ozrik, coming to bring news.

  Alodie forced herself to stand. Part of her didn’t want to know. It was unlikely they had decided to sail again for no other purpose than to return her home. The best she might hope for was to go with them when they went to raid. Her brows pinched together. In that case, would there be any way to negotiate peace, make them agree to leave her and the people at home alone? She didn’t have anything to negotiate with, not being the princess. Maybe if being the jarl’s daughter meant anything…

  Her stomach turned.

  No. He might have forced himself on her mother. He might have planted the seed of her, but Alodie owed her existence entirely to her mother. Her mother had carried her, birthed her, and cared for her in the best way she could, all the while fighting the darkness inside of her from the violence she’d suffered. With a child, she’d lost all hope of continued existence in the abbey, either having been expelled or choosing to leave. Never once had she so much as hinted of Alodie’s true origins, choosing to protect her daughter instead of making her bear the weight of that knowledge.

  So far as Alodie was concerned, she had no father.

  She left Birna in the hut and went out to meet Ozrik. She stepped outside, lifted her head, and found herself face-to-face with Thorvald.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Confrontation

  All Thorvald could see when he looked upon Alodie was Ozrik kneeling to put his cloak about her shoulders after the jarl had thrown her in the mud. It had been raining. She’d been cold. Wet.

  He couldn’t think about it without an iron spike of rage. Because it should have been him. Not Ozrik. He who should have knelt. His cloak she should
have worn.

  But he’d stood there, frozen by shock.

  Until last night, the only thing he’d wanted to change about his life was the oath he’d given the jarl. Now he’d keep the oath, no matter how it caused him to suffer, if he could be given the chance to change how he’d acted last night.

  He’d been brutalized by sleeplessness. The clutches of confusion and remorse had kept him from slipping into blissful oblivion. And, truth be told, he didn’t deserve oblivion. When, finally, he had drifted off for a short spell, he’d dreamed restless dreams. He’d gone back to that day, to being a boy watching the battle, too young to fight, but desperate to be in the terrifying fray with his father. He’d been shouting himself hoarse and nobody had been able to hear him. He’d wanted to run and hadn’t been able to move his legs. He’d seen his father—again—turn and stare the enemy in the eyes, his own wide with terror. Then his father had fled.

  Who needed such dreams?

  He’d woken with a start, covered in sweat, reminding himself that the battle had been years ago. Then he remembered the price he’d paid for his father’s cowardice. The price he was still paying. All he wanted to do was break free of the bonds holding him. Except the more he struggled, the tighter they became.

  The only comfort was knowing Ozrik would care for her.

  Bringing her to Birna, though…

  The blood on her dress had turned brown. Thorvald tried not to look. It was a visual reminder of his failings. “Why are you here?”

  Before Alodie could answer, his aunt stepped from the doorway and stood behind her. “You hurl that at her as if it’s an accusation. What did you expect her to do, flee into the forest and neither be seen nor heard from ever again?”

  Neither be seen nor heard from again. The idea held some appeal. Not for her, but for him. Driven away into retreat. Never having to see or hear the jarl ever again. Being his own man.