Viking Passion (41 page)

“Oh,
Erik
.” She fell into his arms.
She rested there only a moment before he pushed her away and sprang
after Eirena, who had pulled open the door into the hall.

“Not so fast.” He slammed the door shut
again, holding it with one shoulder. He caught Eirena by the elbow,
spun her around, and shoved her into the middle of the room.

“The gold,” he said. “Where is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying, as usual. Give me the sword,
Lenora.”

He took the heavy blade and tucked it neatly
under Eirena’s chin.

“The gold, please.” There could be no doubt
that Erik meant business.

“It’s in Basil’s room.”

“Good. Lenora?”

“I’m here.”

“Go to your room and pack a few warm clothes,
then go to my room and do the same. We are going to Kiev, and it is
cold there in the winter.

“To Kiev again? Is that safe? Won’t Snorri’s
people follow us?” Lenora sounded as doubtful as she felt.

“Kiev will be safer than here. Meet us back
in this room. Eirena and I are going to get our passage money.”

Eirena laughed at them.

“Don’t think you are going to St. Mamas to
find your barbarian friends,” she told them. “Ten of Snorri’s men
are waiting by the front gate. If you step outside they will kill
you.”

Erik smiled at her. “Thank you for the
warning, Eirena. You really are very helpful.”

When Lenora returned to the room where
Snorri’s body lay, she found Erik and Eirena already awaiting
her.

“Here.” Erik tossed her a pouch of gold
bezants, the coins of the Eastern Roman Empire. “In case we are
separated. These are good anywhere in the world.”

Lenora tucked them into the bundle of clothes
she had prepared.

“Sit down, Eirena,” Erik said. “We are going
to tie you up and gag you so you can’t betray us again before we
escape. You won’t be uncomfortable for too long. One of your guards
or servants will come looking for you soon.”

“You can’t leave me in the same room with
him.” Eirena looked with loathing at Snorri’s body.

“Why not? You can spend your time thinking of
a good explanation for having a dead Norseman in your sitting room.
You might also decide on an acceptable apology for the men who are
waiting at your front gate.”

He bound her securely and turned the chair
away from the windows.

“I hope you don’t mind the lack of a view,”
he said. “I don’t want you to watch us sail away.”

“I already know you are going to Kiev.”
Eirena glared at him. “You aren’t as clever as you think, Erik. You
let that information slip a little while ago.”

“Did I? Foolish of me, but by the time you’re
found, it won’t matter. Anything you’d like to say before I put
this in?” Erik held up a wad of cloth.

“I hate you.”

“From my point of view, that is a great
improvement.” He gagged her with apparent pleasure.

“There is just one more thing to do. Since
you have suggested it several times, Eirena, I think you should be
the witness.”

Erik took Lenora’s hand.

“Before this witness,” he said, reciting the
formula slowly and clearly, “I declare this woman has been my
slave. Lenora, I hereby set you free.”

“Thank you.” Lenora could barely whisper the
words around the sudden lump in her throat.

“If you want to rejoin Maura in the city,”
Erik told her, “I can arrange for that, or you may go with me. You
are free now, and the choice is yours.”

“There is no choice. I am going with you. I
love you.”

She had a glimpse of his moist eyes before he
turned and picked up their bundles. When he spoke again his voice
was a bit rough. “Are you ready, Lenora?”

“I’m ready.”

They slipped out of the room, crept down the
back stairs, and, after a careful reconnaissance, went out a garden
door. The wind tugged at Lenora’s cloak. Erik caught her hand and
pulled her along the terrace toward the path leading to the
beach.

“We are going this way,” he said, “to avoid
Snorri’s men.”

They hurried down the path, twisting and
turning among bushes and trees, until at last they came out on the
narrow, sandy beach.

“What shall we do now?” Lenora asked.

“Give me your scarf.”

She unwrapped the long piece of white silk
from her head. Erik took it, and holding it high in one hand, waved
it back and forth. A few moments later Lenora saw a movement on the
water as a tiny boat drew steadily closer. At last she could see
the blond, bearded figure at the oars.

“Harald,” she breathed. “So, we are going
with Harald.”

When the boat approached the beach, Erik
swept Lenora into his arms and deposited her on the nearest seat.
Then he dumped in their scanty baggage and jumped in beside
her.

“Your sword is there, wrapped in silk,”
Harald said. “I thought you might need it.”

“My brother came to see me.” Erik buckled the
belt around his waist and adjusted the sword as he spoke.

“I had heard there was someone looking for
you. Did he get what he came for?”

“I think so. Let me help you.”

Erik took an oar, and together the men rowed,
heading straight out into the Bosporus. They had nearly reached the
opposite shore before Lenora noticed Harald’s knarr. It had been
painted black and was almost invisible in the rapidly deepening
dusk. As they pulled alongside, friendly hands reached down to help
them aboard. The rowboat was quickly hauled onto the deck and
secured, the anchor raised, and then the sail was let out.

Lenora stared open-mouthed. The sail was
black. They began to move toward the setting sun.

“Erik,” she protested, “We’re going west.
Kiev lies east of Constantinople.”

His strong arm was around her shoulders. “We
aren’t going to Kiev, my love.”

“But you told Eirena -” She stopped and began
to laugh.

“When Eirena gives the alarm,” Erik told her,
“if Snorri’s men go after us, they will start looking in the wrong
direction. Meanwhile, hidden in the dark, with black hull and sail
and no lamps lit, we will smuggle Harald’s ship and its cargo past
Miklagard, past the Greek guards and watch towers, through the
little ocean they call the Marmora, past the Byzantine outposts
guarding the straits at the far end of the Marmora, and into the
great Middle Sea that lies beyond Grikkland.”

“Maura was right. She said you always have a
plan.” She glanced up at his handsome face, just discernable in the
fading light. “Where are we really going?”

“Where would you like to go?”

She considered that a while.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said at last, “so
long as we are together.”

He pulled her into his arms, ignoring the
humorous comments of nearby crew members.

“We will sail as far as Harald is going. We
have a full cargo of silk and ivory, on which we have paid no
taxes, since we neglected to inform the customs authorities just
when we were planning to leave Constantinople. Harald and I will
make a handsome profit from this voyage.” His lips brushed her
forehead, and they stood quietly for a while.

“I knew you would never kill me,” he told her
later. “You are too tender-hearted to take the revenge you said you
wanted.”

“I killed Hrolf and Bjarni,” she reminded
him.

“Hrolf to save me, and Bjarni for Halfdan’s
sake. You have never hurt anyone for your own sake.” He sighed
happily. “I am glad you are finally finished with hating, and with
your foolish idea of revenge.”

“I am not finished. I have only begun.” Her
eyes were dancing with mischief, but he could not see them in the
dark. He only heard her serious voice, and she felt his body tense.
She smothered laughter, but only for a moment. It wasn’t fair to
tease him into doubting her. “I have chosen to go with you. You
will have to live with me for the rest of your life. That is my
final revenge, Erik the Far-traveler.”

He let out a great shout of laughter. ”I
think I can bear it,” he said. And then he kissed her.

In mid-December of the Year of Our Lord 868,
a black-hulled, black-sailed vessel dropped anchor at the ancient
port of Marseilles in southern Frankland. The cargo of rich silks
and fine ivory from the Eastern Empire was immediately sold to
eager merchants. The ship’s captain then found a priest to marry
his two passengers.

It was said by the local gossips, who always
know about such things, that the wedding ring was a gold circle
that the bridegroom took from his own finger and slipped onto his
new wife’s hand, while the lady openly wept for joy.

The next day passengers and crew reassembled,
and the ship sailed toward the Western Sea. No one in Marseilles
had been told where they were going.