Odin's Shadow (Sons Of Odin Book 1) (9th Century Viking Romance) (11 page)

Chapter 14

They left the tavern to board the ship just after dawn. Selia kept out of the way of the men as they made their final preparations. Looking out to sea, she observed another ship trolling into the harbor, a longship like Alrik's, but much bigger. Even from a distance it seemed to be overflowing with people.

As the ship approached to dock alongside them, she heard voices, mostly Norse. But her heart contracted as she heard Irish being spoken as well.

The ship contained a group of Finngalls and several dozen of the Irish, as well as an assortment of animals. The Irish clustered together, looking grubby and dazed. Selia saw only a few men and the rest women, but none over the age of forty or younger than eight or ten.

One of the Finngalls called out roughly, and the group began moving toward the dock with painful slowness. She cringed as she saw they were hobbled together, with chains attaching each Irish to the next.

A slave ship. These were her people, her kin, and they were being brought to Bjorgvin to be sold at the market like cattle. The aged, the sick, and the very young were conspicuously missing from the group.

Because they had been killed.
By men like Alrik
.

One of the women who appeared to be around Selia's age glanced up and saw her staring. Their eyes locked. The silent exchange lasted for only a few seconds, but time seemed to stand still as Selia gazed at the pretty, dark-haired woman, shuffling toward her fate. She had damp stains on the front of her gown, and her breasts strained against the taut fabric.

Selia had seen something similar when a neighbor’s babe had died, leaving the mother with engorged breasts. This woman on the slave ship had obviously had an abrupt cessation of breastfeeding.

Feeling suddenly sick to her stomach, Selia gripped the rail and closed her eyes. When she looked up again the woman was out of sight, a part of the nameless Irish huddle moving up the dock.

The dragonship ploughed through the water, following the jagged coastline of Norway. Selia gaped at the rocky fjords rising almost vertically from the sea, hundreds of feet above the ship. The quality of the light was different here, the colors crisp and sharp. The occasional glimpse of pasture was a fresh, bright green, the blue of the water the same brilliant shade as Alrik's eyes.

They stopped numerous times along the coast, pulling the ship into clefts in the fjords to drop off a few men at a time. Families would run out of their homes, children bounding down the hills, wives holding up their skirts as they hurried toward their husbands with joy on their faces. And each time Alrik and the remaining crew would be invited in for food or ale, but Alrik would graciously refuse, saying they needed to be on their way.

At each stop Selia was introduced as Alrik's wife, and noted how a flicker of surprise would register over the faces of the women. She studied them during these brief encounters. They were mostly blonds and redheads, with a few brown heads thrown in for good measure, all with the striking Nordic bone structure she found both beautiful and intimidating. Like the women of Bjorgvin, most were nearly as tall as an average-sized Irish man, but even those who were relatively short appeared strong and capable-looking. There was nothing timid or subservient about these women-it was almost as though they thought themselves the equal of their husbands.

The slaves would gather quietly behind the women, awaiting orders to unload cargo. They were dressed in plain, undyed garments, and both the males and females had cropped hair. They did not make eye contact. No one seemed to even notice them except for Selia.

As if the short hair and rough clothing didn't make the slave's status clear enough, each also wore a thick metal ring around his or her neck. Like the collar on an animal.

Her hand crept up to finger the jeweled necklace that adorned her own throat, and she looked away. She had much more in common with the slaves than she did with any assertive Norse women. Alrik was a Hersir, a warlord, and if he had been intent on finding a wife he could have done a great deal better than the daughter of an Irish merchant.

It was easy to see now why he had hesitated to marry her. But the fact remained that he
had
married her. He eschewed the opportunity to take her as a slave, and instead chosen her for marriage. If he wanted a wife, why hadn't he married one of these strong, beautiful Finngall women with good breeding hips?

There could be only two reasons for this. Either Alrik didn't want one of these women for a wife, or they didn't want him.

Ulfrik approached Selia at the side of the ship. She hadn't a chance to speak with him since the awful events of the previous night, so she was reluctant to meet his gaze now. Even though he would keep his face neutral as he always did, the
thought
of what might be going through his head at any given moment could be maddening.

"No one expects you to be like them, Selia." He nodded in the direction of a group of Norse women.

She scowled. "Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Reading my mind. It's rude."

He smiled at her. "Then be more careful of your face."

"Not everyone is like you, Ulfrik. Not everyone
hides
what they're feeling." The words came out more sharply than she meant them to. Why was she acting like such a child? She flushed and turned away.

Ulfrik studied her quietly. "I wish you would have told me about your problem before last night. You can trust me, you know."

"Can I? I don't know anything when it comes to you. I want to believe you're my friend, but . . ." She trailed off as she felt tears pricking at the back of her eyes. It was silly to consider Ulfrik her friend. He thought of her as his brother’s wife, nothing more.

"I am your friend. Never doubt that."

Sniffling, she looked out to sea and watched a bird skim across the water, flying away with a fish in its mouth. "I'm afraid, Ulfrik. I'm afraid Alrik will never forgive me for lying to him. I'm afraid your family will hate me. I'm never going to fit in here."

He looked down at her. "You'll fit in. Hrefna will love having you around-she's been pestering Alrik to remarry."

Hrefna was Olaf's wife. Ulfrik had only told her bits and pieces of the family dynamics, but nevertheless Hrefna sounded like someone to be reckoned with. If she had wanted Alrik to wed again, Selia was relatively certain she wasn't the type of woman Hrefna had in mind for her nephew.

"Why did Alrik marry me? Why didn't he choose a Finngall woman?" Selia asked.

When Ulfrik took too long to answer, she narrowed her eyes. "They're all afraid of him, aren’t they? None would have him."

"Probably not. Not one of any family or wealth, that is. Even Eydis-that was Alrik's wife-was not from a noble family. She was the younger sister of Ketill Brunason."

"Skagi's father?"

"Yes. Ketill's father was dead, so it was up to Ketill to make suitable marriages for his sisters. Alrik asked for Eydis' hand several times, but Ketill continued to turn him away. Alrik wasn't the Hersir then, of course. Only when she became with child did Ketill finally agree to the marriage. We were very young then, even younger than you are now, so that was before anyone knew the full extent of Alrik's temperament. Ketill's unwillingness was still about the curse of Ragnarr."

She nodded. They had dropped Ketill and his sons off at the previous farmstead, small and dilapidated. Only a handful of slaves had come to the docks to greet them. It had all been rather sad. "And then when Eydis died, it made everything worse?"

"Yes, but by then it was clear Alrik had inherited Ragnarr's instability. Even though Eydis didn't die by his hand, I think many people still held him in suspicion."

Like Ingrid
. Selia twirled the ring on her finger, feeling for the rune carvings. For all her hesitation to put her faith into a heathen object, the ring's presence did ease her mind somewhat. But was it powerful enough to protect her from the curse of Ragnarr and his son?

She held up her hand to show Ulfrik the ring. "Alrik gave this to me last night. He said it would protect me from him, and maybe from my spells, too."

He gave the ring a cursory glance, paused, then looked again. He twisted the ring around on her finger as he read the runes.

"What does it say?" she asked, after Ulfrik remained silent. He appeared to be deep in thought.

"It is as he told you-it's for protection."

"But you don't think it will work?"

Ulfrik hesitated. "I'm sure you know by now that Ragnarr killed his wife. But I think it's time you knew the whole story, Selia, for your own safety. I hadn't wanted to tell you the details. But after last night, it's more dangerous for you not to know."

She nodded as Ulfrik continued. "Ragnarr was a devotee of Odin. Some say those Odin bestows his gifts upon, he also casts his shadow over. I believe those of an unbalanced nature are drawn to him. Regardless, Ragnarr was suspicious of everyone. He felt others were trying to deceive him, to trick him with magical delusions. The more anyone tried to reason with him, the more distrustful he would become.

"Ragnarr believed Alrik's mother, Evja, was a cunning-woman. A witch who uses dark magic to cloud the mind." Ulfrik's gaze locked on the horizon. "When he killed her, there was nothing anyone could do to stop him, but our brother Jorulf tried. And so Ragnarr killed him, too. Dagrun was able to get Alrik and me away, or I have no doubt he would have slain us as well."

Struck speechless, Selia shivered as she pulled her cloak around her shoulders. "You're telling me this because you think Alrik will hurt me? Because of my spells?"

"He has always been wary of magic, so your spells make him nervous. I think he does care for you, but whatever good intentions he has are lost when he's enraged.”

There would be no repercussions for Alrik if he did end up hurting her. No consequences. Her father and brother lived across the sea, too far away to intervene on her behalf. Had he chosen her for that very reason? Marrying Selia was a safer option than marrying the sister or daughter of one of his men, who might complain to their families about his unpredictable behavior.

Or had he chosen her because her small stature and inexperience allowed for easy intimidation? Because he thought her to be a young woman whom he could keep under his thumb-and by default, would be too timid to fuel the fire of his rage? If this were indeed the case, Alrik must be furious to know his new wife was significantly more complicated than he could have imagined.

She shivered again despite the warmth of the day. Ulfrik’s belief that Alrik might kill her had confirmed her own worst fear. He knew his brother better than anyone, and understood exactly what he was capable of.

Ulfrik kept his voice low. "You tried to run away when we were in Ireland. You were afraid of him. Are you still afraid? Enough to leave?"

She searched his face. Did she trust him enough to answer the question honestly? "I don't know. Sometimes I am. Sometimes I want to go home and forget I ever met him. But other times, when he's kind to me . . . it’s as though he’s a different person. Then I don’t want to leave.”

He nodded. “He’s been that way since we were children. I used to think it would be easier if he were cruel all the time. I would always know what to expect.”

Although his face remained stoic, Ulfrik’s voice held a hint of sadness. He did understand, then, very well. He had been playing this exhausting game his entire life. Ulfrik was a grown man, strong and self-reliant, yet Selia had a sudden urge to comfort him as though he were still a motherless slave boy. She patted his hand where it gripped the rail.

He turned and locked his gaze with hers. “If you are ever that afraid again, come to me first before you do anything reckless. I’ll help you.”

The sun was still high as Alrik, Ulfrik, and Olaf steered the dragonship through a cleft in the fjords, into a wide blue bay of breathtaking beauty, the water so tranquil and clear that Selia could see a mirror image of the ship reflected on the surface. There was a good sized village ahead of them, silhouetted by steep, heavily forested hills.

This was to be her new home. As they made their way toward the docks, her anxious belly lurched and she again fought back an urge to vomit.

There was a shout from someone on land, then within a few moments people began to emerge from the dwellings-hurrying, but not running in joy as most of the previous families had. It seemed for a village of this size, there were remarkably few people in it.

One female did break into a run, which Selia assumed was Ingrid. She steeled herself for the meeting. But the woman threw herself into the arms of Olaf, and as they embraced Selia realized she was older than she appeared from a distance. Hrefna, most likely.

Selia liked Olaf. He was pleasant and generally good natured, which wasn't the case with many of the Finngalls. If only she could erase from her mind the memory of him kissing the serving girl in Bjorgvin.

Alrik took Selia’s hand to lead her over to them. He bussed the redheaded woman’s cheek, but all the while her puzzled eyes remained on Selia. "Hrefna, this is my wife, Selia Niallsdottir. Selia, my aunt, Hrefna Erlandsdottir."

Hrefna's jaw dropped. Selia took in a shaky breath as she smiled. "I am happy to meet you," she said to the woman who bore a strong resemblance to Gudrun. She could only pray they didn't share the same caustic personality.

Hrefna looked shocked, clearly taking in all that was wrong with her nephew's new Irish wife. She leveled her gaze at Alrik for several long seconds. Finally, she let out a breath, turning back to Selia with a smile. "Welcome, Selia." Her voice held warmth. "Welcome to our family."

There was a noise behind Hrefna, then a high, angry voice. "Who is that?"

They all turned, and Selia found herself face to face with a young woman who could only be Ingrid. During the journey, whenever she had thought of Alrik’s child, she had seen in her mind's eye a girl barely out of childhood-a lonely, misunderstood soul, distraught over the loss of her mother and her sisters. Of course the girl would be shy and hesitant around her at first. But with any luck, she hoped Ingrid would warm up to her and they might become friends.