Page 21 of Her Rogue Viking
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Ulfric strode along the rough track that led from the slave sheds back into the heart of his settlement. He was satisfied that all was in order and that Brynhild had done her work well in his absence. The new quarters were basic but would serve. The shelters were set at a distance from the main habitation but were weathertight and secure so he had every confidence the captives from this most recent raid would survive the coming winter. It would be a waste to permit otherwise since he had gone to such trouble to acquire them, and good slaves were a valuable commodity. He might sell a few in the spring if his granary was ready by then.
He nodded to several of his karls as he passed, asking a question here, offering a comment there. Whip-thin hounds trailed after him in anticipation of a morsel or two, but he ignored them.
He had a morsel of his own awaiting him in his longhouse.
His inspection of the new buildings had been quick, but he had lingered over his assessment of his son’s progress with the short sword. Njal had worked hard and craved his father’s praise. Ulfric did not disappoint him. He was proud of his sonand looked forward to the day the lad would accompany him on a Viking raid. Ulfric left the boy, his small chest puffed with pride, to continue his practice with the other youngsters.
By now his latest acquisition would be fed and washed, and ready for his attention. He wasted no more time in making his way back to his house.
Brynhild was not there when he entered. Only the young man, Harald, was present, tending the fire. He glanced up as Ulfric entered then leapt to his feet. The thrall appeared nervous, and Ulfric’s instincts were at once on alert.
“Is there a problem, Harald?”
The youth shook his head but did not meet Ulfric’s eyes.
“Where is my sister?” She would usually be at her loom at this time of day, but the apparatus stood idle beside the door.
“I am not sure,Jarl. I believe she may be purchasing grain…”
“Go. Find her. Wait.” The boy paused, already halfway to the door. “Where is the Celtic wench?”
“In your sleeping place,Jarl.Where you left her.”
Ulfric nodded and dismissed the servant. He strode across the room and swept aside the curtain separating his private quarters from the rest.
All looked to be in order. The bath was still there, near enough brim-full of water, and his slave lay on her side in his bed, huddling under a pile of furs.
“Celt?”
She started at the sound of his voice so he knew she heard him, but she did not turn to look at him.
Ulfric approached and sat on the bed beside her. He stretched out his hand to draw the covers from her shoulder. She shivered as his fingers made contact with her skin. She was freezing cold.
By Odin, what is this?
He saw now that there was no fire in this room, but the wench had plenty of bedding in which to wrap herself so should not be in such a state. Her hair was dripping wet, and when he touched the dark locks they were, if anything, colder than her quivering flesh.
“Fiona?” He reached for her now and took her in his arms to pull her close. She was as cold as ice, and as stiff as he drew her to his chest. “What has happened?”
She did not reply, but he could hear her teeth chattering. Her whole body shook against him.
“Harald! Get in here.” He bellowed the summons, but the thrall did not appear by the curtain. Ulfric recalled he had sent him in search of Brynhild. “Anyone. In here. Now.”
A smaller youth scuttled into view. Boyd? He was not great at recalling the names of all his thralls.
“What has been going on here?” demanded Ulfric as the lad shrank before him.
“It… We… The lady commanded it.”
“Commanded what? Tell me.”
“The water… For the bath,Jarl…”
“What about it?” He glared at the slave who shifted from one foot to the other, his features plainly terrified. “Oh, for fuck’s sake…” Ulfric extricated himself from Fiona’s frigid form and strode to the foot of the bed. As he peered into the tub he saw slivers of ice still floating on the surface of the water.
“By Thor’s balls,” he breathed, incredulous. “Why did she do that?”
