Heart of a Viking Read online

  Thorarin stole a look at Keita before he left. She continued to fight against the grip the merchant had on her and he saw, not fear for herself but for him. Despite their grave circumstances, the tiniest flourish of hope warmed his insides. She loved him so there was hope. No matter what happened, he would find her. He vowed that silently over and over as they dragged him away.

  Chapter Twenty

  Keita found it odd that she didn’t fear being taken away by the merchant any longer. She had no thoughts for her own fate.

  Only for Thorarin’s.

  He would go on trial, she had heard. Something she’d learned during her time here was that punishments would not be simply handed out by the járl. The decision had to be made with the help of the elders. Thorarin would surely tell of Ragni’s murderous ways and the elders would release him.

  She hoped.

  She didn’t sleep that night, tied up to Knut once more. Arms wrapped about her knees, she recalled Thorarin’s declaration of love and considered her future. She’d have to escape Knut somehow and find Thorarin. What else could she do? She had no home anymore. Why would she want to return to the people who had given her away so easily? Even the thought of the green mountains didn’t appeal. If she could look into Thorarin’s green eyes for the rest of her days, she would be content.

  As the first rays of light slipped between the cracks in the longhouse walls, the thralls stirred and set about their chores. Knut continued to sleep for which she was grateful. The longer he took to stir, the more chance she had of seeing Thorarin set free. But before long, Ragni had come out of his bed chamber and most of the household had risen. Ragni gave the man a nudge with his foot. Now she was worthless the járl appeared to care little for appeasing the merchant with niceties.

  Knut looked over at her and drew her close using the rope. He unhooked it from her collar. “You obey, understand?” he told her.

  She nodded. For now, she would. While Thorarin was locked up, she had no choice.

  Ragni glanced her over as she stood with her new master. “I treated you well, princess. It is a mighty shame you betrayed me. Still, I’m sure Knut will see you punished. He was looking forward to taking a virgin.”

  She stiffened her muscles so none of them could see the shudder than ran through her.

  The merchant said something in Norse to Ragni and he nodded before motioning to two men. They came over and he spoke to them. Then he approached her once more. “These men will be watching over you until Knut is ready to leave. Should you try to escape, they are under instruction to punish you.”

  Keita nodded stiffly. She didn’t know what sort of punishment Ragni had in mind but she wasn’t willing to find out. She needed to be in perfect health if she was to escape with Thorarin once he was freed.

  “Prepare your new master’s food,” Ragni ordered, “then you may see to yourself.”

  Her stomach grumbled and she urgently needed to relieve herself but it wouldn’t be the first time she had been forced to put her master first. She made quick work of preparing the meal and stepped out to relieve herself and wash quickly with well water.

  When she returned, followed by the two Norsemen, Knut beckoned her over. “Bathe,” he said simply.

  She swallowed hard. Did he wish for her to do more than bathe him? She prayed not.

  Like a good slave, she followed her new master, throwing a glance at the hut where they were holding Thorarin. To know he was so close by, frustrated as well as gave her hope. They were not parted yet. For him, she would remain strong.

  Keita followed Knut to the bath house and her stomach bunched when he began to remove his garments. Gaze lowered, she waited for the splash of water before throwing a look his way. She did not bother comparing him to Thorarin for no man could compare, let alone the merchant. But her new master could have the most beautiful body in the land and still remain ugly to her.

  “Soap,” he demanded, resting his head back.

  She remained silent and snatched up the lump of soap. There would be no fighting her fate so she came to his side with the soap offered out. At least he had not demanded she remove her clothes and join him but she had no doubt that would happen if she remained in his service.

  “Wash me.”

  Taking a long swallow, she started at his shoulders and rubbed down his arms, moving around the wooden tub to continue cleaning his body. She kept her gaze on the grain of the wood and tried to ignore his deepening breaths. They echoed in her ears, the sound dark and sinister. When she glanced down, her throat grew tight with apprehension. He was growing aroused.

  Keita had expected as much. That didn’t mean the sight did not make her stomach roll. Knut pointed to the spots he wanted her to clean next. First his shoulders, then his upper chest and his belly. The feel of wet skin and matted hair increased the burning sensation in her throat.

  He lifted a leg out of the water and motioned to it while muttering something in Norse. She shifted down the bath, remaining on her knees and set to work on his thick leg. Maybe he wouldn’t wish her to do anything. Maybe he’d simply want to be soaped everywhere and that would be the end of her ordeal. She closed her eyes briefly to stem the tingling behind her eyes.

  When she had moved around the bath to clean his other leg, moving up his thigh to where his arousal jutted out of the water, he grabbed her wrist and took the soap. Then he pressed her palm to his erection. Her instinct was to tear her hand away. But his grip pinched into the bones in her wrist, making her squeak.

  He flattened her hand against his cock once more and Keita braved a look into his face. His lips were pulled tight in annoyance and he moved her hand up and down his shaft. The feel of his hard flesh made her want to wretch but somehow she kept her expression neutral. She would not show her fear or repulsion. She’d survived so much. Keita drew in a breath. She’d survive this too.

  He motioned once more as to what he wanted her to do. She curled her hand around him and kept her eyes averted. If she thought of doing something else, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. However, the roiling of her stomach and the shaking of her limbs kept bringing her back to the reality of her task. But perhaps...

  She gripped him tight—too tight and he let out a sound of annoyance. He motioned again, wrapping his hand over hers and showing her the rhythm. Mimicking him, she squeezed harder this time and feigned ignorance. She offered him big, guileless eyes that reminded him she was still almost innocent. He released a Norse curse.

  Knut tried once more to demonstrate but Keita fumbled and scraped her nails along his sensitive flesh. He hissed another curse and flung her hand away, sending her tumbling to the floor. The merchant rose from the bath and Keita pushed herself to standing. Maybe he would punish her now but anything had to be better than doing that. She was pleased to note he was no longer aroused.

  He made her towel him off and help him dress but he showed no more sign of wanting her to pleasure him. She doubted it would last but relief streamed through her, making her knees feel a little shaky. He motioned for her to follow him back to the longhouse and gather her meagre belongings. They were to leave.

  But as he arranged to leave, the court began to gather and, as far as she could gather, Knut wanted to speak against Thorarin. Two men were sent to collect Thorarin and Keita released a long breath. She would get to see his fate after all. She prayed to her goddess that it would be a good one.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  There would be no proper trial for Thorarin. They would not wait to take him to the Alþing and have proper judgement cast upon him. But he might be given the chance to speak in his defence. He could not be sure, however. Ragni had discarded his son with ease and the elders had made no comment. Would Thorarin’s position in their village help him?

  Not to mention Fleinn had been caught in the act. There was no proof he’d taken Keita’s virginity or stolen the taxes. Ragni could kill him or banish him but he would lose more respect from the villagers. He did not think the járl would r
isk it.

  It did not mean he would not be at the whim of the járl, however. If he decreed his death, there was no guarantee anyone would argue against it. He was still their járl after all. Thorarin only hoped the effort he’d put in to discredit Ragni would work in his favour.

  Whatever the outcome, he thought determinedly, he would fight to survive, if only to save Keita from her fate.

  He blinked as the door opened and strips of light blinded him. The man motioned for him to follow, and Thorarin eased to his feet with a groan. He’d been held in an empty storehouse, barely large enough for a child let alone a man of his size. He did not doubt that was intentionally so, to weaken him. His muscles were stiff and parts of him tingled as blood rushed back through him but determination made him strong. He would get his revenge and he would get Keita back.

  Filled to capacity, the longhouse bustled with noise. Everything had been cleared from it except a bench for the elders and Ragni’s chair. When he moved to the front, the crowd fell silent. Ragni eyed him coolly and Thorarin could not help but smirk. He had little idea who he was and what charges he would bring up against him.

  Still shackled, he came to stand in front of the járl. He glanced around to find Keita but saw no sign of her. He squashed the frustration rising in his chest. Had she already gone?

  Ragni gave a slow smile. Já, it told him. She’s gone. Thorarin curled his fists. How long had she been gone? Had Knut already mistreated her? He’d make him pay if he had.

  “Thorarin, you have been brought here accused of theft of property, theft of coin and rape. Knut the Merchant has asked me to bring up charges of attempted theft on his behalf. What say you?”

  “You have no evidence of these wrongdoings. Furthermore, I accuse you, Ragni the Bold of murder.”

  “Who do you claim I have killed?”

  “Your son.”

  “Já, that might be so. Many outlaws die in the wilderness.”

  “Not Fleinn. Fálki.”

  A pale cast came over his face at the mention of his eldest son.

  Thorarin didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Some ten summers ago, I came upon you beating Fálki. You beat him until he was dead. Then you blamed the murder on a boy—Reinn, son of Torstein. Few believed the boy even had the strength to kill him and so instead he was outlawed—most likely to protect him from the járl who would want to kill him to protect his secret.”

  “If you think these lies will save you from your crimes...”

  “I need no saving. I am not the man who killed both of his sons in anger. I am the boy who saw you kill Fálki, however.”

  A murmur rippled through the crowd. Ragni gripped the arms of his chair and motioned for silence. He slammed his fist down when they refused to fall quiet. “Silence!” He thrust a finger at Thorarin. “You, an outlaw, dare to come into my home and eat at my table. I gave you a livelihood and my trust. You have betrayed me in every way. Why would anyone believe what you say?”

  “Because it is true.”

  Thorarin whirled to the source of the voice. He managed not to let his jaw fall open. Pushing through the crowds was a half-starved, ragged young man who bore some resemblance to Fleinn.

  “My father—” he jabbed a finger at Ragni when he reached the front of the crowd “—killed my brother. It was used as a threat against me many times. I have no doubt he banished me so I would not reveal his secret.”

  Ragni’s face reddened. “These are falsehoods!”

  Thorarin did not think he’d ever be grateful to Fleinn after what he did to Keita. He had no doubt the man merely wished revenge on his father rather than to aid him but for now, he did not care.

  Taf, the eldest of the council, motioned for quiet. “It seems both parties have accusations against each other but no solid proof. It would be my recommendation that a duel is fought to regain honour.”

  A grin slipped across Thorarin’s face. Here was his chance to fight Ragni fairly—no sneaking in to put a knife across his throat. They would fight man to man and he would win.

  He waited for the vote, keeping his gaze on Ragni who silently seethed. It had to be tearing him apart that he’d put trust in the man who had been secretly picking apart his life and now even his own council had turned against him.

  The decision was declared—a duel with no weapons. Thorarin had no preference but the thought of pummelling the járl with his fists held appeal. He bunched his fingers until his knuckles cracked and stared down Ragni.

  “The duel will take place at noon,” Taf declared.

  Thorarin was led back to confinement. Ragni would be held in the longhouse. He sank onto the floor of the storeroom and eyed the shackles about his wrists with gritted teeth.

  The hour seemed the longest moments of his life, longer even than the lonely nights he’d spent alone during his banishment, fearing for his life and his family. When the door opened, he stood quickly and stretched his muscles. A rush of anticipation burned through him and his heart began to beat faster. He would kill Ragni and get back Keita. This day would be the start of a new life for him.

  The familiar roar of bloodlust echoed in his ears when he caught sight of Keita in front of the longhouse, pinned to the side of Knut. So she had not left after all. It seemed Knut had a thirst for blood. Her gaze remained on him and he noted the trembling of her body but her expression remained resolute. He hoped her courage was not for nothing.

  “Let justice be served here today. Let honour be regained,” Taf declared. “There will be no weapons. This is a fight to the death.”

  Ragni came forward, a mere pace away. Thorarin kept his fists raised.

  “You were the cause of many of my problems, were you not?”

  He nodded.

  The járl offered a begrudging smile. “You are far from the weak boy I sent away. You have shown much patience. Would that I could have put a warrior like you to good use. If you had not betrayed me, we could have gained much power together.” He took another step closer. “We still could.”

  Thorarin let a tight smile slip across his lips. “I want nothing from you, Ragni. Only your death.”

  “A shame...”

  It took a moment for the burst of pain to register. For a moment, it felt as though someone had pinched his flesh at his side and twisted it hard. However, a burning, slicing, tearing burst of agony seared through him. He grunted out his pain and staggered slightly. Ragni gave him a twisted smile and turned away. Thorarin caught a glimpse of the dagger tucked behind one hand. The wound was not intended to kill but it would hinder him well. Ragni wanted an easy victory over him.

  Thorarin forced his thoughts away from the pain ripping at his side and glanced to Keita. He considered that Keita had been in the hands of the merchant for at least two hours now. He thought of the man’s hands upon her, of her tears if Thorarin died. She would cry for him, would she not? He imagined what she was thinking now. Every part of her would will him to survive.

  So survive he would.

  He lunged for Ragni, knocking him to the ground. Dust kicked up about them. Ragni suffered the fall with surprising strength, releasing a faint grunt, and Thorarin suspected he had not moved as fast or as hard as he hoped because of the pain in his side. At this point it was hard to tell. His skin was hot and clammy. He pressed a hand briefly to his side and felt the blood soaking his clothing. Not only did he have to get to Keita but he needed to bind this wound.

  The járl latched his hands around Thorarin’s neck but he ripped them away with ease before smashing a fist into his face. Bone crunched. Ragni yowled and grappled at Thorarin’s side. Fingers dug into the wound and shards of pain tore through him.

  The glint of a blade appeared again. Somewhere in the distance, a woman screamed. Keita. Dots danced in front of his vision and his movements seemed to be too slow. The knife arched toward him, aimed for his neck. A burning sensation streaked through his arm and he absently noted the handle of the blade sticking out of his forearm.

 
Thorarin hardly recalled doing it. It happened quickly, yet in an odd sort of detached haze. He ripped the dagger from his arm and rose up enough to bring it down into Ragni’s neck. The haze replaced with a spray of warm sticky blood and Thorarin rolled off the járl.

  He drew in painful, panting breaths and rolled his head to the side to watch the man’s eyes flicker closed. A hiss of air escaped his wound with a bubble of blood, signalling his last breath. Thorarin pressed a hand to his side and stared up at the sky for a few moments. It was odd. He thought he would feel different once Ragni was dead.

  Pushing up to sitting with a grimace, he kept a hand clamped to his side. Stickiness seeped between his fingers. He eased to his feet and eyed the gaping crowd of villagers. He searched out Keita and found her tearing from her master to come to his side. She splayed her hands on his chest, her gaze searching his.

  “You are hurt!”

  “I will survive,” he promised her. He’d lost a lot of blood and was feeling light-headed but some stitches and a little rest would mend him.

  Knut pushed through the crowd and went to grab Keita but Thorarin thrust her behind him, using his body as a shield. He glowered at the smaller man.

  “She’s mine,” Knut declared. “I paid for her.”

  “I will pay you four times what you paid,” Thorarin replied calmly.

  The merchant’s eyebrows dipped as he considered this. He glanced at Keita and nodded slowly. “Já, you have a deal.” He thrust out his hand and they shook on it.

  Thorarin turned his attention back to Keita and she pulled apart the torn fabric on his arm to inspect the wound. She winced at the sight of ripped flesh. “What did you say to him?” she asked while she tried to dab away from of the blood.