Page 6 of Her Rogue Viking
“Silence, cur,” Dagr snarled in their Nordic tongue and of course the Celt could not understand. The slave master raised his switch, but far from subduing the unrest other slaves, both male and female, were now joining in. The angry shouts of protest grew, accompanied by the clank and rattle of chains as more and more added their voices to the protest.
“For fuck’s sake,” muttered Ulfric as he rose to his feet. He made straight for the man at the centre of the trouble. “You, listen to me and heed me well.”
He spoke in Gaelic and was gratified to note that several of the slaves did indeed seem inclined to hear his words. Even so, he addressed himself to the tall, brown-haired man. “What is your name, Celt?”
“I am Taranc.” The reply was delivered with not the merest hint of servility. On the contrary, the belligerent slave glared at him, his every sinew bristling with anger.
Again, Dagr made as though to step in and assert his authority. Ulfric forestalled that with one upraised hand. The man fell back obediently.
Ulfric stepped closer to the unruly slaves, intent upon showing not the slightest trepidation. He stopped before the man, Taranc. “She is mine now. I told you this. My property.”
“You will not harm her! I?—”
“No, I will not. I take care of what is mine. She will be safe.” Ulfric paused, then, “You have my word on this.”
“Your word? What is that worth? The word of a murdering, robbing savage impresses no one.”
“I have offered you the word of Ulfric Freysson, Jarl of Skarthveit. You may rely upon it.” Ulfric stood his ground, his steady gaze unwavering.
Taranc returned his glare. The pair stood almost nose to nose, waves of frustrated fury rolling off the Celt though Ulfric thought the man might be at least considering what he had heard. Long seconds passed before the slave offered a curt nod.
“If you harm her, I shall kill you.Youmay rely uponthat.This ismypromise to you, Viking.”
Ulfric offered no response. Instead he turned on his heel and marched away without looking back. He knew he had achieved what he set out to do when the sound of trudging footsteps confirmed that the procession had started on their way once more.
Now for the wench…
Gunnar watchedwith undisguised interest as Ulfric crouched beside his property.
“You do not need to wait. I can handle this.”
“Without doubt, brother. Even so, I find I am in no particular hurry and we know this wench to be ferocious when riled. You may yet require my aid.”
“Very well. Since you insist upon remaining, perhaps you will make yourself useful and find something with which to bind this ankle.”
Gunnar chuckled as he turned to return to the saddlebags slung across his horse’s back, then let out a low oath. Ulfric looked up to see that the convoy had stopped again. Dagr was dragging another of the females from the group, this time a woman whose belly was distended with the final stages of pregnancy.
“Now what?” he muttered. The woman looked to be a little older than the wench on the ground before him, and this one sported hair of a vivid red. Her clothing was rough, indicating that she was not a woman of wealth. He supposed none of them were, not now.
The flame-haired slave stumbled, her knees buckling. She clutched her rounded abdomen and cowered away from the raised arm of the slave master. The switch whistled as it sliced the air.
“Neinn!” This time it was Gunnar who issued the command to stop, though not in time to prevent the first stroke from landing across the woman’s shoulders. She let out a sharp cry as Gunnar strode toward the pair.
“What is the problem here,karl?” Ulfric observed that Gunnar appeared fit to tear Dagr’s arm from his shoulder, but instead his brother settled for relieving the slave master of the switch. A good thing too. The man might be rather harsh in his dealings with these females but decent slave handlers were still hard to come by.
Dagr’s explanation was simple enough. “Look at her. She will not make the journey unaided and will be of no use when we get there. She should not have been taken.”
Ulfric had reached that conclusion unaided.
“Then leave her with us.” It appeared Gunnar concurred.
Dagr was again reaching for his dagger. “I will?—”
“I said, leave the female with us and fuck off.” Gunnar was ever blunt in his dealings with those he considered his inferiors, but on this occasion Ulfric could find no cause to fault his brother’s approach. Dagr was becoming tedious and the callous brutality he was showing of late was not conducive to efficiency. Perhaps Ulfricshouldconsider replacing him…
Dagr might have protested, but Gunnar’s glowering countenance was sufficient to quell any such misguided impulse. He shrugged and stormed off back to where the slaves waited. “Get moving. We have wasted enough time here. Onward. Now!”
The guards hurried to do the slave master’s bidding, prodding the thralls into motion once more.
