But he was not there.
There was no one in the trees above us.
The breeze carried only distant screams.
5
Elswyth
July 31st, 960AD
The boats were shallow and narrow, and the men rowed carefully. In one place, where the waterway curved, they became stuck in the mud and had to use all oars to be on their way again.
I saw only the dark shape of the other boats ahead, and the men crouched before me, pulling steadily homeward. We passed through meadows until the flatlands became hills, and the river wound through a wooded valley.
I was alone, and those I loved were dead. Svolvaen’s people were not mine by birth, but they had become my family. Shivering, I grasped the edges of my cloak, pulling it closed as best I could. My hands had grown quite numb from the rope.
My eyes grew heavy from the constant sound of the splashes from the oars, but there wasn’t room to lay down or any soft place to rest my head. Nevertheless, I dozed, and woke to find us passing between steeply rising rock, the river narrower than ever. Within the scree and crevices grew overhanging trees, the branches of which oft brushed the men’s heads. Each time, they stilled their oars and lowered their shoulders so that the vessel glided silent beneath the foliage.
High above, the moon had faded within a sky of lifting violet. We were followed, but not by human eyes. A pack of wolves leapt over the crags above, looking down. Fortunately, there was other prey. Only winter drove them to reckless hunting.
The sun rose steadily, and my lips grew parched. My captor drank his pouch dry and refilled it from the river but pushed me away when I indicated my thirst. Only Thoryn offered me water, which I gulped gratefully until the other man snatched it away.
At last, the chasm opened on one side, and the forest came down to meet us, bringing the sound of birdsong and the rustle of small creatures moving beneath the ferns. The men had hardly exchanged a word in all our journey, but they seemed to grow easier as the trees became sparse, smiling to one another—glad, I supposed, to be not far from their beds.
Though my hands were tied, it appeared not to be enough for, nearing our destination, my captor knotted a second rope, which he looped about my neck. Weary to the bone, I made no struggle. What little fight remained within me I’d conserve for when I needed it.
I was surprised to see the tree line give way to jagged peaks. Fierce mountains loomed above. When the first vessels threw their ropes ashore, the men disembarked without delay. One stood taller than the rest, his shoulders broader, and his hair flaming red and wild, reaching past his shoulders. He barked at two who’d been waiting on the landing pier and, as he turned, a new wave of sickness engulfed me. The left side of his face was puckered with coarse scars. It was the man who’d killed Eirik.
Instinctively, I ducked low, not wishing him to see me, for nothing good could come from drawing the attention of one so brutal.
My captor waited until all others had left our boat before lifting me onto the platform, then tugged on the rope tied about my neck, leading me uphill. I could hardly keep up, stumbling behind, but he seemed satisfied to let the others outpace us.
It was not until we breeched the summit of the meadow that I smelled the salt air and saw the fjord below—a strip of glittering silver with mountains dominating its far side. The settlement was far larger than Svolvaen, with buildings sprawling the full width of its harbour. Most of the men peeled away, downward to those dwellings, until there was only my captor and I, climbing still, away from the main bustle of the town, the forested slopes to our left.
Ahead of us was a homestead—a building large enough, I guessed, to hold several hundred people, and newly thatched, the reeds not yet weathered. There were pens and byres for livestock; a horse was being led from its stable; someone was hanging fish in the smokehouse; and women were churning butter in the dairy. From one building came the distinctive smell of skins being tanned—rich and earthy, and slightly sweet. From another, a blacksmith’s hammer rang clear.
It seemed a wonder to me that, while the heart of Svolvaen had been destroyed, and my own with it, here, life continued as normal.
I expected us to approach the longhouse, for I would be just a thrall, brought to serve. If I were lucky, I’d be permitted something to eat and drink, at least, before being given work to do.
“Not there.” Seeing the direction in which I looked, he tugged harder on the rope, chafing my neck as he guided me onward, further up the hill.
There was another hut, high on the headland, set apart. Coming closer, I saw that it commanded a view not only of the fjord and the town but the far mountains and the open water to the north, dotted with small islands. It was a watchpoint, with a brazier upon a great pole, ready to be lit in warning.
Three men sat, their weapons laid to one side, intent on some game. They looked up as we approached.
“What’s this, Sweyn?” called one. “Entertainment?” He grinned, pulling on his beard.
Sweyn merely grunted and gave the door a kick. I hesitated, but the rope was firm about my neck. He jerked it maliciously, hauling me over the threshold, and I swallowed a sob. My legs threatened to collapse beneath me, and my neck was rubbed raw. I was hungry, thirsty, frightened, and sick.
The light from the open door revealed a bench along one side and a large chest, bedding piled in one corner. Sweyn pulled on the rope, hand over hand, until there was no distance between us.
His face bore an expression of delighted cruelty as he reached for my breast, squeezing roughly, thumbing my nipple. “Fine clothes for a fine lady.” He pushed closer. “And you’re just as fine underneath, I’d say.”
I tried to twist away, but the rope around my neck made that impossible. I stood very still, aware of his sweat and the sourness of his breath.
He slipped his hand inside the wide neck of my gown—calloused fingers coarse across my soft skin, taking possession of what he now thought was his. He took my breast into his palm, kneading the flesh, then found the point of my nipple and pinched it.
