I must gain their trust. Perhaps they’ll know a way for me to escape.
Or, if I were to remain and lived long enough to see the babe’s birth, they might find a place of safety for the child to be reared. I didn’t want to think of that. I couldn’t think of it—for such a thing seemed too distant and too sad with all that had happened in the past day and night.
But I needed them, so I smiled as they scrubbed my back and tipped my head for them to wash my hair. I murmured my thanks and asked their names and from where they’d come. They only shrugged at that. Both had been born here—Thirka and Ragerta—and had been slaves, always.
The name of this place? Skálavík.
I fought down my fear when I heard it.
Only two days ago, Eirik had told me his tale, of the dark deeds of Beornwold of Skálavík. But this jarl, the demon, wasn’t Beornwold.
I wracked my memory. Months ago, I’d listened as Gunnolf had plotted the alliance that would strengthen Svolvaen. Eirik had suggested marriage between Helka and the new jarl of Skálavík. She’d protested vehemently, but Gunnolf had dismissed the idea anyway, for the jarl was newly wedded, he’d said.
That was something! If I might speak with his bride, she’d be sure to take pity on me—for I’d lost so much. Any person with a heart would feel my pain. I would ask about her, when I had the chance. But first, I wished to know more of my enemy, of the man who’d wrought destruction on all I loved.
“The Beast, they call him—Aifur,” said Ragerta. “Though his birthname is fearful enough.”
“The mountain of fire—that’s what it means, Eldberg.” Thirka dropped her voice low, as if saying it would conjure him in the room.
“And what has he done to earn this reputation?” I turned the soap over in my hands, pretending a nonchalance I did not feel.
Ragerta glanced at the door. “They say he was taken by berserkers as a boy and raised among them as a slave—but that his bravery earned him his freedom and he fought among them for a while.”
“You’ve heard of those men who are more like beasts?” added Thirka. “They wear only the pelt ofbears or wolves and live like them, in the forest.”
“They can even jump through fire without being harmed.” Ragerta’s eyes were wide.
“He claims he can do that?”
“No. He never speaks of that life.” Ragerta shifted uneasily, her eyes darting away. “Only once did I hear a man mention this—a merchant, years ago, before Eldberg became jarl. He made some joke, about him going into the forest not to hunt wild animals but to mate with them.”
“What happened?” Part of me did not wish to know, but still I listened.
“It was as if he were possessed.” Her voice grew quieter. “His face grew hot and swollen, and he began to shake all over, so great was his rage—as if he meant to turn into a true beast before us.”
“And his teeth!” Thirka squeaked. “He bared his teeth as if to bite.”
“And the merchant?”
“I’ve never seen anyone more frightened. He froze, cowering, then came to his senses and fled. Eldberg followed him outside.” Thirka pushed her fist to her mouth, unable to continue.
I looked to Ragerta, encouraging her to finish the story.
She bit her lip, adding quickly. “When he came back, he was holding something small, which he threw to the dogs.”
I swallowed back a sudden taste of bile. It was a foul thing, to desecrate a body.
“His boat became Eldberg’s, of course,” said Thirka.
The next moment, I felt a draught upon my back, and the two women shrank away, their faces transformed by fear, a terrible fear.
* * *
Hugging my knees to my chest, I kept very still. Though I couldn’t see him, I heard the heaviness of his tread and felt his presence behind me.
Thirka and Ragertaboth scurried to depart, leaving me alone.
“Stand up.” That rasping voice again, the words spoken abruptly, expecting to be obeyed.
