Viking Passion (2 page)

“Look up here is a clump of beautiful
buttercups. They are like gold. Help me, Lenora. We must hurry.
After we gather them, we still have to weave the wreath.”

The two girls bent to their task, smooth
honey-gold braids and burnished chestnut curls close together, as
they whispered and talked.

Father Egbert watched them, thinking what a
pretty picture they made. They were clothed in the brilliant colors
all Saxons loved, Edwina’s slender form in a bright green wool
kirtle, Lenora’s fuller figure in deep blue.

If only Lenora could absorb some of her
friend’s more placid disposition. Father Egbert did not dislike
Lenora, but he worried about her. She was different from other
women he knew, adventurous and impulsive and full of pride. Before
he had died four years ago her father had even taught her to read
and write a little Latin. It was most unseemly. Father Egbert
feared Lenora would never find a husband, for what man would want a
wife more learned than himself? Cedric should have been wiser about
his daughter’s future.

Cedric had been an unusual man. Like Lenora,
the daughter of his middle age, Cedric was proud of the long line
of Saxon nobles from whom he was descended, and like her, he, too,
was adventurous. Braving the treacherous waters of the Narrow Seas,
he had traveled to distant lands after the death of his first wife,
returning with a strange, beautiful Frankish woman as his second
wife. Father Egbert could not understand the violent passion with
which Cedric had loved his dark-eyed Alienor, or his grief when she
died in childbirth. Cedric had insisted on calling the baby Alienor
for her mother, instead of a good Saxon name, although in time the
more gentle sound of Lenora had replaced the outlandish foreign
name.

The little girl had been cared for by her
half-sister Matilda, now married to a neighboring land-holder, and
by Wilfred, the other child of Cedric’s first marriage. Lenora and
the gentle orphan Edwina, who was the same age, had grown up
together, as close as sisters.

A loud burst of laughter from Lenora made the
priest shake his head sadly. The girl was incorrigible. Her
demeanor was definitely not that of a modest maiden. She sat on the
grass, skirts crumpled up about her shapely calves, a pile of
flowers in her lap, their bright colors contrasting with the blue
of her gown. The priest looked away quickly.

Ashamed of his unkind thoughts toward an
innocent young girl, however difficult she might be, Father Egbert
grasped his rosary and began to tell his beads. He became so
engrossed that he did not see the ship.

It was the shouting that drew his attention.
Father Egbert looked up from his rosary. He gasped, his eyes nearly
starting out of his head in terror.

A ship lay at the river’s edge near the open
entrance to the tun. How it had come so quickly and so silently he
did not know, but there was no mistaking that graceful form. It was
the stuff of nightmares to all decent men and women. Long and low
and sleek, it rose at each end to a slender, tapered shape. A
fierce, grinning beast, some heathen demon-god carved in wood,
adorned the bow. A square sail lay furled across the yard at the
base of the single mast.

Out of the ship poured tall, hard-muscled
men. Their leader’s rounded metal helmet gleamed dully in the early
morning sun. The others were bareheaded. Blond or red hair, light
brown hair, bushy beards, a few clean-shaven faces, brightly
painted wooden shields held against taut bodies, drawn broadswords
ready for action, spears and sharp-edged battleaxes, all swam
before Father Egbert’s appalled eyes. The Vikings had come.

Lenora heard Father Egbert’s gasp and
followed his gaze. For a moment she froze. Then, always quick to
react, she rose, pulling Edwina with her. The flowers scattered out
of her skirt, falling in bruised profusion into the grass at her
feet.

“We must flee,” she said. “Run, Edwina. They
haven’t seen us yet. We can get away. We can hide in the
forest.”

“No.” Edwina did not hesitate. “I must go to
Wilfred. Whatever happens, I will be at his side.”

Edwina headed for the stockade gate, through
which they could see the Viking warriors rushing in a terrifying
wave. Lenora clutched at her friend’s arm. Edwina, though fragile
in appearance, was surprisingly strong. She dragged Lenora after
her as she ran down the hill.

“You can’t go in there,” Lenora screamed at
her. “Look.” She pointed with her free hand as flames ran up one
side of the barn and caught the thatched roof. The shrieks and
cries and the clatter of battle coming from within the enclosure
were deafening, although the high fence blocked their view of what
was happening.

“I don’t care,” Edwina cried hysterically.
“Wilfred! Wilfred!”

“Help me,” Lenora called to the priest, as
she struggled to stop Edwina.

Father Egbert caught Edwina’s other arm.

“You must run away,” he gasped, his voice
trembling with fright. “Oh, what they will do to you, what those
heathens do to Christian women. Oh, Edwina, I beseech you, run, run
for your life.”

Together Lenora and the priest struggled to
turn Edwina from her headlong flight toward the little village. It
was already too late to escape detection. The sound of their voices
had attracted the attention of one of the Vikings left at the
river’s edge to guard the ship. He began to move toward them, a
wicked-looking sword held in one large hand.

“Please,” Father Egbert moaned, “please,
Edwina, I beg you, run.”

Edwina did not seem to hear him.

“I must go to Wilfred,” she insisted
wildly.

“It’s too late. You can’t help Wilfred now,”
Lenora cried, still tugging at Edwina’s arm, “but we can save
ourselves.”

“I will try to delay that man,” Father Egbert
told Lenora. “Get her away from here. God bless and protect you
both.”

He dropped Edwina’s arm and moved to place
himself between the Viking and the women. Lenora continued to pull
at Edwina’s arm, Edwina pulling in the opposite direction with the
same effort. The two girls stood balanced in their tug-of-war as
Father Egbert met the Viking.

Lenora felt a flash of admiration for the fat
little man, and remorse for her earlier dislike of him as he
bravely faced the Norse giant.

Father Egbert spread his arms wide. His black
robe billowed in the summer breeze as he looked up at the Viking,
who regarded him with a cruel smile.

“I implore you,” Father Egbert began.

He got no further. With a harsh laugh, the
Viking lifted a fist and punched Father Egbert squarely on the jaw.
The Norseman caught the priest as he crumpled, and laid him gently
on the ground, carefully straightening the black robe about his
ankles. Then he turned to face the two girls.

Lenora, caught in horror, could not move. She
was dimly aware, as she clutched Edwina’s arm, that her friend had
gone limp. The Viking said something Lenora did not understand, and
reached for the fainting Edwina.

A red mist was forming before Lenora’s eyes.
Released at last from the paralysis that had held her immobilized,
she flew at the man, fingernails raking his face, screaming her
fury and her fear. The Viking laughed again, and then the world
went black.

Snorri stood in the space between the
stockade and the river, feet planted firmly apart, hands on hips,
enjoying a feeling of power. His two friends, Bjarni and Hrolf,
stood at his right and left shoulders. Sentries had been posted to
guard against any surprise attempt at rescue of his Saxon victims,
although that was not very likely. The raid, like the others on
this voyage, had been stealthy and lightning quick and very
successful.

As the flames roared and crackled in the
wooden buildings behind them, consuming Wilfred’s tun until it was
only ashes, Snorri’s men carried out the treasures they had found
there. They had spread cloths and tapestries upon the ground and
were busily piling onto them all the loot they had taken from the
great hall and its surrounding buildings. There were silver plates,
Snorri noted, and a large silver drinking cup in a style made by
the Franks, and a silver crucifix and chalice from the church, as
well as the priest’s embroidered vestments. A small casket filled
with silver coins brought an appreciative grunt from Snorri.

His attention strayed to the women. They were
a sorry lot, huddled together on the ground just outside the
stockade. No need to guard them. They were too frightened to do
anything more than weep or faint. He knew what they feared, but
Snorri, unlike most Norse leaders, held his men under firm
discipline, and allowed nothing to be done to captives that might
lower the price he could get for them in the slave markets. What
his men did with their personal slaves once the plunder was divided
was no concern of his, but until they reached the shelter of
Thorkellshavn the women would remain untouched.

So far, they had not taken any prisoners,
preferring to load the
Sea Dragon
with the goods acquired
during their raids. It was easier that way. Gold and silver did not
need food and water, did not attempt to escape, did not make noises
at inconvenient times. But Snorri had promised his father Saxon
slave girls, and this was the last stop of the voyage. He had
better choose two or three to set aside for Thorkell, and then his
men could divide the rest among themselves when they got home.

Snorri moved forward, Hrolf and Bjarni close
beside him as always. He stopped when he reached a pair of women a
little apart from the rest. One, chestnut curls in disarray, blue
gown torn and dirty, lay unconscious on the ground.

“What happened to her?” Snorri asked.

“That’s a wild woman. She tried to scratch my
eyes out,” Hrolf informed him. “I would have killed her, but I
remembered you wanted a few wenches for Thorkell, and I thought he
might have an evening’s entertainment taming her.”

“My father is a bit too old for that sort of
thing.” Snorri laughed. “But she appears to be a noblewoman and
that should please him. Will she live, do you think?”

“The hilt of my sword barely grazed the back
of her head,” Hrolf assured him. “And I did not harm the priest,
either. The last time I killed one of those holy men, their White
Christ sent a terrible storm on the voyage home to punish us, and
we nearly sank. The ship is so heavily laden with treasure I did
not want to chance that happening again. I left him there, on the
mound. He will wake up soon.”

Snorri nodded, not really listening, his blue
eyes fixed on the pale girl sitting beside the one he had been
considering. His huge, heavy-knuckled hand caught Edwina’s chin and
lifted her face. She stared back at him with a blank expression.
Snorri was accustomed to seeing that look of hopelessness in his
victim’s eyes. It never disturbed him.

“So,” he mused, “another noblewoman, and this
one is the quiet type. She is too thin for my taste, but Thorkell
likes blondes. She’ll be just the thing for him, if she doesn’t die
on the voyage back to Denmark. She can sooth his wounds after the
other one has exhausted him.” His companions guffawed at Snorri’s
wit.

“You missed this,” Snorri called to the men
still piling up the plunder. He grabbed at the heavy gold bracelet
on Edwina’s wrist.

“You can’t have it!” Edwina jerked her arm
away. Snorri, paying no attention to her words, pulled the bracelet
roughly off her arm, leaving a red mark along the side of her thumb
where the metal had scratched.

“Wilfred, Wilfred,” Edwina moaned, rocking
back and forth, her arms crossed over her chest, tears trickling
down her pale cheeks. “Oh, Wilfred, my dearest, my love.”

“Women.” Snorri shook his head in disgust and
tossed the bracelet onto the last heap of loot, watching as two of
his men wrapped and tied the cloth it lay on, and then struggled to
lift it so they could carry it onto the ship. “Hurry up with that.
We have stayed here too long. Our luck has been too good; I don’t
want to spoil it. Hrolf, Bjarni, get the women on board. We sail at
once.”

Lenora could not remember where she was. When
she opened her eyes the sky directly above her was a blue so bright
it hurt her to look at it. She closed her eyes again and lay still,
feeling the odd motion beneath her. It was a gentle rocking
sensation, so soothing she nearly drifted off again into the
velvety blackness that had held her since – since what? As memory
returned, she gave a strangled cry and sat up. Dull pain throbbed
at the base of her skull. She put a hand to the spot and felt a
lump under her thick hair.

“Edwina?” She touched her friend’s arm.
Edwina sat beside Lenora, staring fixedly ahead, apparently seeing
nothing.

“Edwina!” Still Lenora got no response.

“She has been like that since before we came
aboard,” said a voice.

Lenora turned to face the speaker, wincing at
the pain in her head. She recognized the woman as the wife of one
of her brother’s farmers.

“Maud, what happened? Where are we?”

“On the longship. Don’t you remember? The
Norsemen came. They burned everything and killed – killed -” Maud
gave way to loud sobs.

Lenora caught at the woman’s shoulders and
shook her. She was certain the gesture hurt her more than it hurt
Maud, for her head was still throbbing, and a wave of queasiness
threatened to overcome her.

“Maud, tell me everything.” Lenora had to
know, however much it hurt to hear the truth, no matter if Maud’s
words confirmed the fear now searing her heart. “Why can’t Edwina
see me? What did they do to her?”

After a while Maud regained some self-control
and began to speak.

“There was a battle. Our men fought bravely
but they were all killed. Only a few women were left alive.”