Ingunn rode close. “Let her have my horse, Orm. I will ride with you. This isn’t right, having a slave treated so finely.”
“I would think having her ride a horse singly, without one of us holding her, would be treating her more finely.”
Ingunn chewed her lower lip, searching wildly for something to say that would change his mind. She saw that Zarabeth was markedly silent. She watched as Zarabeth accepted Orm’s hand, watched the muscles in his arm bunch as he lifted her up in front of him. He then held her against his chest, his arms around her, holding the horse’s reins in front of her. Ingunn felt great fury, a greater sickness in her belly. She wished she had a dagger; she would surely stick it in the woman’s ribs.
“Ingunn!”
She swallowed her anger and eased her mare beside his stallion. “Aye?”
“Tell me more about this slave with her strange hair and strange name. You called her a slut and a whore and said she had bewitched your brother. Why is this?”
“My brother wished to wed with her, but she betrayed him. She sent him away and wedded with an old man who was richer than Magnus. Then she poisoned him slowly. She is not to be trusted. She is a witch, with many tricks.”
“I trust no one, man or woman, so I am safe. As for her tricks, well, do you believe me a fool, Ingunn?”
She looked at him stupidly for a moment, then saw that his eyes had darkened, the blue irises blazing nearly black. Quickly, for she was suddenly afraid of him, she shook her head.
“Say it,” he said.
“Nay, you are not a fool, Orm.”
“Good. You please me when you are obedient, Ingunn.” His eyes lightened, and the wildness was gone from them as suddenly as it had come. Ingunn remembered the brief speech she’d had with him before he’d gone to take Zarabeth. She had said, her voice trembling, “Perhaps I am a fool.” The instant the words were out of her mouth, she had hated herself for speaking them.
“What mean you?”
“I came to you because I believed you loved me. I left my parents’ farmstead to come to you.”
“And now you change your woman’s mind? You are foolish, Ingunn. You will be my wife, doubt it not.”
Now she said, “What will you do with her?”
“I have yet to decide.”
Ingunn had nothing more to say. In her mind’s eye, she had seen Zarabeth, that wild red hair loose and full down her back, and felt the familiar rancor boil in her belly. She would still have her revenge. Orm was a man, and she mustn’t forget a man’s weaknesses. Magnus had succumbed to this woman and turned on her, his own sister, very quickly.
Orm was speaking again, but it wasn’t to her. It was to Zarabeth. “Does your jaw still pain you?”
“Nay.”
“Excellent. You seem a strong woman, and that pleases me. Now, tell me, what do you think Magnus will do when he returns to Malek and finds you gone?”
“He will come after me and he will kill you.”
It was Ingunn who laughed at that. “Ha! All will tell him that you fled from him, or that you jumped into the viksfjord like that little idiot sister of yours.”
Zarabeth twisted about to look at Ingunn, her face twisted with pain and rage. “I told you never to speak of Lotti like that.”
“And what will you do about it, you slut?”
Zarabeth tried to fling herself off the horse at Ingunn. Orm was taken by surprise and nearly missed grabbing her in time. She was flushed and breathing hard with fury, he realized, not with fear. “Hold still, else I will strike you again!”
“My little sister is—”
“Was, Zarabeth, was! She’s dead!”
“As dead as Egill! Do you mock him, Ingunn?”
Ingunn hissed breath out. “Say you nothing about Egill. He was a fine boy, he was Magnus’ heir, not a pathetic little slave with no blood ties to him, to any of us—”
Again Zarabeth tried to pull free of Orm and fling herself upon Ingunn. Orm held her. He watched, his expression mocking, as Ingunn pulled her mare some distance away.
“A slave shouldn’t have such passions,” he said, his breath warm against Zarabeth’s cheek, and he wrapped a thick tress of her hair round and round his hand until he was pulling her head back against his chest. “Now, you will be silent. We have some way to go yet before we make camp.”
Ingunn kept her distance.
Orm called a halt for the night when they reached a small copse of pine trees hidden from view near the base of a snow-covered mountain. “In another day or so we will reach the Oslo Fjord and my vessel, the Wild Tern.”
Zarabeth was desperate to know where he intended to sail, but she kept her mouth shut. She realized, dispassionately, that she was afraid of him and that she had to tread warily around him. She couldn’t begin to imagine what he would do, how he would react, from one moment to the next. She was told to gather firewood. The man Kol stayed with her, doing nothing himself, merely watching her. He was dark, his face pockmarked, and he was so silent, even when he moved, that she found herself continually looking over her shoulder to see where he was. He didn’t try to touch her, merely watched her with that silent look of his until she wanted to scream.
She didn’t realize how hungry she was until Orm handed her a charred piece of roasted rabbit. It was delicious, even the black burned flakes. She wanted more.
He held a piece just out of her reach. “What will you give me for another piece?”
His voice was soft and teasing, not at all the voice of a vicious killer. He stood over her, his legs parted, and he waved the piece of rabbit in her face.
“I have nothing to give you.”
“Perhaps not,” he said, and to her surprise, he handed her the other piece. Her stomach settled and she felt waves of tiredness hit her then. She was asleep within minutes.
Orm stood over her. She’d quietly fallen to her side, her legs drawn up, and her cheek was pillowed on her palm.
He picked up a blanket and covered her with it. He looked up to see Ingunn staring at him.
“Come, Ingunn,” he said, and rose, stretching out his hand to her.
Her cheeks flushed, for he’d spoken in a normal tone of voice, and both Kol and Bein looked up. Both of them knew what he intended. She felt shame at his blatant use of her body, and she was not yet his wife. Still, what else could she do? She had come to him, trusting him, and if she stopped trusting him, why, she would have nothing.
She rose, pretending to adjust the skirt of her gown, pretending that they were going for a walk, perhaps to discuss their future together.
She heard one of the men snigger. It was Bein, and she hated him for the way he looked at her and the way he spit when he looked away.
“How would you like me to take you, Ingunn?”
“They are listening! Say not such things!”
Orm laughed, and in sight of his two men, in the sight of the other woman, who was a pathetic creature, he pulled her against him and kissed her soundly. Then he pushed her back, still holding her with one arm, and let his fingers trail over her throat downward until his palms were brushing across her breasts.
She cried out in mortification, and he laughed, releasing her. She ran from the camp, knowing that he would follow, knowing that he would not even lower her to a soft blanket, but push her against a tree and jerk up her gown. It was how he punished her. He had done it several times now when he thought her unwomanly in her speech to him.
He pushed her against a tree this time as well, and she was crying silently during the long minutes when he was grunting against her. When he was finished with her, she pulled down her gown and wished she was dead. “You must bathe, Ingunn, your sweet woman’s scent is gone. I like my smell on you, but not the sweat of the horse.”
She nodded, walking away from him, saying nothing, for there was nothing more to say.
She fell asleep finally, only to awaken when he pressed against her back. “Hush,” he said, and kissed her ear. “Forgive me, Ingun
n. I hurt you and it angers me that I did so. I will make it up to you now.”
She felt his hand under her gown, moving upward, and she wanted to pull away from him, wanted to scream at him to leave her alone, but then he was touching her and she closed her eyes and let the pleasure build within her. She whimpered softly, her fist against her mouth when her release came, and she heard him laugh softly against her ear.
“There,” he said. “Now you won’t give me your wounded looks. You are pleased, are you not? I want you to thank me, Ingunn.”
She whispered her thanks to him. He laughed again and left her.
The following morning, Ingunn kicked Zarabeth in the ribs. “A slave doesn’t sleep whilst her mistress works. Get up and collect more firewood. Be quick about it, Zarabeth.”
She did as she was told, her companion the same one as the evening before. Kol looked sullen this morning, his pockmarked face even uglier today. Still, he remained silent, making no move toward her, watching her.
Orm let the two women slaves walk for three hours before calling a brief halt. He brought Zarabeth up on his stallion in front of him again. Ingunn said nothing. He called out to her, “The woman needs to bathe. There are no men’s smells on her, but the scent of horse is strong. We will halt at the small lake that lies just east.”
Kol said, “But that is away from the fjord, Orm! Do you not wish to be gone from here? All of us are outlaws now. The thing will have come to no other conclusion, not with that silly little girl speaking against us.” Kol turned on Ingunn. “Aye, ’twas her proud father who called them all against us, we all know it well!”
“There are none to follow us as of yet. Fret not, Kol, for I am your leader and I do not make mistakes.”
The man spit on the ground near Ingunn’s mare. “You brought her, did you not? You plan to wed with her!”
Orm’s eyes narrowed. Then, to Zarabeth’s astonishment, he laughed. “Listen, both of you. Aye, Bein, I see the same doubts in your ugly face. Aye, I have Harald’s daughter here because with her in our midst, he would dare not attack us. Have none of you any wits? She is a superb hostage!”
Ingunn gasped aloud. “Nay, you lie! I came to you because I did not believe you had done those things—”
“Ah, but I did, Ingunn.”
His voice was very soft, terrifyingly so. Ingunn turned white, her eyes dilated. Zarabeth felt a lurch of pity for her, and an increasing fear of Orm.
Then Orm laughed again. “I am no monster, Ingunn. I did nothing at all. I was but testing you. Kol heard from an old man that one of the Ingolfsson daughters said it was us. She lied. All of you, attend me now. This beautiful woman, Ingunn, daughter of Harald—I will wed her, for I love her dearly, and all of us will leave this cold land and make our way to the west. We will settle in the Danelaw. We will buy lands there with all the gold and silver we have gained in our trading.”
Bein and Kol spoke low to each other. Zarabeth felt confounded. He was slippery, his tongue agile, and she was afraid of him. Color had returned to Ingunn’s cheeks, and now she was smiling, under Orm’s spell again.
I must escape, Zarabeth thought over and over as the afternoon hours passed. I must escape. Orm would kill, then laugh and deny it even as the blood dried on his hands.
That evening when they stopped to make camp, Zarabeth was once again sent out for firewood, Kol her companion. He grunted at her, pointing to the branches that lay on the ground. He wasn’t going to help, merely watch her.
Finally she said, knowing the time had come, “I must be by myself for a moment . . . just for a moment.”
He looked at her, no expression whatsoever on his face. “I will watch,” he said, and crossed his arms over his chest.
She discarded several ideas in the space of a moment. Finally, she merely shrugged, looked past him, her eyes widening. When he whirled around, she picked up the skirt of her gown and ran as fast as she could into the pine forest, ducking behind a thick pine at the last moment. There was no crashing of undergrowth, for Kol was silent as an animal. She felt terror creeping over her. Where was he?
Suddenly she heard him yell, “Woman, wait! You come here, do you hear me?” He paused and she held her breath, for he was but feet away. “Orm will be mightily displeased with you. He will punish you! His punishments aren’t pleasant. He could break your jaw this time. Come here, now!”
He was closer, moving silently. She fancied she could hear his breathing. She closed her eyes, pressing closer against the tree bark. He was saying again, “You won’t escape me, woman. Come now, and I won’t be angry with you.”
She didn’t move. But she was ready, and suddenly he was there, coming around the tree, his movements stealthy, his step silent. He saw her and jerked back, but not in time. She heaved a rock as hard as she could in his belly. He howled, falling forward, and when he did, Zarabeth lifted that same rock again and struck him on the head. He went down without another sound. Now you are silent, she thought.
She was free. It was exhilarating. For a moment she couldn’t believe it. She stood over Kol, panting, holding that blessed rock. She had seen the rock and had seen herself hitting him with it, but the fact that she had actually succeeded left her momentarily dumbfounded. Quickly she knelt beside him and took his knife. Then she was running through the forest, knowing even as she ducked branches that the trees were fast thinning. In a very few minutes she would come out into a long narrow meadow. She would be in full view of Orm and Bein. Ah, but the trees on the other side of the meadow were so near, not far at all. She could make it, if only she could run fast enough.
Magnus dismounted and stretched. He patted Thorgell’s neck, then leaned down with Eines to check the tracks.
“We’re close, Magnus.”
Magnus grunted.
“Two of the horses are carrying two people. I’d say a man and a woman on each of the horses.”
Magnus saw in his mind’s eye Orm carrying Zarabeth in front of him. Who was the other woman? Ingunn?
“This other horse carries only a woman.”
Ingunn, he thought. It had to be. Who was the other woman?
“So,” he said, “we have three men and three women.”
“Aye, ’tis so.”
Magnus rose and looked toward the horizon. “He travels to the Oslo Fjord. I wager he has a vessel there, waiting for him, and I wager it is finely provisioned. Then he plans to leave Norway.”
Ragnar came up to him. “How old are the tracks?”
Eines turned his head away.
But Magnus knew. “They will make the fjord and their vessel before we can catch up with them.”
“Did she go with him willingly?”
Magnus turned to Ragnar then, saying in a low voice, “I know that you dislike her. But your reason is a paltry one, Ragnar. She took advantage of you, aye, that wasn’t well done of her, for you had come to pity her and mayhap even trust her a little, but attend me. She was terrified for Lotti. She could think only of saving her little sister. Rid yourself of your dislike of her, else I must rid myself of a man I have held as a brother for many years.”
Ragnar’s face was frozen.
“Would you not have done the same thing were your sister in danger? You would have killed, would you not, without thought? She did not want to hurt you, only escape you.”
“She is a woman.”
Magnus laughed at that. “Aye, she is, and she is my wife now. Make your peace with her.”
“I do not believe we will find her so that I can make peace, Magnus.” He turned now and placed both hands on his friend’s shoulders. “You said it yourself: Orm will reach his vessel before we can catch up to him.”
Magnus shrugged him off. “Let us ride.”
But he knew that they should turn back and finish the repairs on the Sea Wind’s steering oar. But something made him kick Thorgell in the sides. He would ride to the edge of the fjord before he gave it up.
The horses were blowing hard when finally Magnus call
ed a halt. There were six of them, all tough men, all seasoned warriors, armed and ready to fight. By Thor, he wanted Orm. He wanted to kill him. He cared not that Ingolfsson had a prior claim. Orm had taken Zarabeth.
He raised his eyes to the darkened sky. Thick gray clouds floated past the half-moon. It was quiet, so very quiet, and his thoughts were screams inside his head. His son, Lotti, and now Zarabeth. Had he sinned so grievously? Which gods had he so offended? No, he wouldn’t believe that Zarabeth was dead. He wouldn’t believe that Orm would reach his vessel first.
Zarabeth didn’t look back. She focused on the line of pine trees across the meadow. She ran until the stitch in her side was so bad she was holding her arms around herself. But she didn’t stop. It was a twisted dead branch that tripped her, and she went flying. The grass was tall here, and it softened her fall.
She lay on her face, not moving, feeling the roiling pain through her chest as she tried to breathe. Then she heard the pounding of horses’ hooves. Closer and closer. She pressed her cheek to the grass, and the pounding was louder and the earth was shaking beneath her face.
“By Thor, she is hurt!”
It was Orm. She lurched up and tried to run, but she stumbled again, and would have fallen except Orm leaned off his horse and jerked her up around the waist. He held her against his side until he had ridden out of the tall grass. He set her down then. He didn’t move, merely looked down at her.
“Why did you try to escape me, Zarabeth? I told you that you should not try. Now I have no choice. I will have to punish you.”
She raised her head then. His face was as calm as his voice, but his eyes had darkened. They were glittering in the bright sunlight, and there was a wildness in them that stilled her tongue. She stood there saying nothing.
“Answer me, Zarabeth.”
“I want to go home. I want to return to Magnus.”
He laughed. “When we reach York I will have another slave collar put about your white neck. Come here.”
He carried her back to camp. His arms around her were gentle. He said nothing. She was afraid to face him. She feared she would see the madness in his eyes.