Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 02] (35 page)

Three days later, just outside Winchester, Rain and Blanche and Gorm were apprehended trying to enter the walled city after nightfall. The Saxon soldiers came up out of nowhere, surprising them. When Gorm raised his pike to fight them off, one soldier killed him in one fell swoop of his sword. It happened so quickly that it took a moment for
Rain to realize that Gorm lay on the ground with a sword stuck through his chest, his eyes staring up at them in deathly horror. Blanche sobbed loudly on the horse next to hers.

Rain made the mistake then of turning angrily on the vicious soldiers. “I demand to see King Athelstan immediately. We have come to plead the case of the captive, Selik.”

“The Outlaw!” they all exclaimed at once, and at just that mention of an association with Selik, the Saxon guards forced them from their horses, which they immediately confiscated, bound their arms behind their backs, and marched them with pikes jabbing into their backs to their leader.

“Master Herbert, these two came skulking about the castle gates seeking The Outlaw. Another be dead outside the walls,” one of the guards explained.

“We were not skulking,” Rain corrected, and the guard shoved her and Blanche into the barracks-style room where a mean-looking man sat leaning against the wall in a bored fashion drinking mead from a wooden goblet. He was better dressed than the other soldiers who sat about the trestle tables drinking and playing dice. Several women sat on the laps of some men, who fondled them openly.

“Shall we inform the king?” their guard asked Herbert, whom Rain assumed was the castellan, the head of the king’s troops at Winchester.

Suddenly alert, Herbert ignored the guard’s question as he insolently studied their dirty attire, their hands still tied behind their backs. They’d been riding for two days, rarely stopping, and personal hygiene hadn’t been a top priority. The haughty Herbert leaned back casually and took another long swig of his mead. He’d probably assessed and labeled them as of no importance, based on their appearance.

“Yes, tell the king. I need to talk to King Athelstan
immediately,” Rain said with an urgency that turned her voice higher than usual.

Herbert’s brow shot upward and he stood abruptly, knocking over the bench, then walked toward her. She heard several soldiers snicker.

“A priest speaking on behalf of the heathen Dane? Now that is an oddity,” he said silkily as he walked toward Rain. She could barely stop herself from backing away. When he stood in front of Rain, his head coming only to her nose, his hand darted out and flipped back the cowl on her head, revealing her long blond braid. Reaching out, he tugged hard on the end of her hair, then used the small knife in his waist scabbard to cut the leather thong. Her hair billowed out around her in a wispy cloud of static.

Herbert gave a low whistle, and some of the soldiers inhaled sharply, then made vulgar remarks. “I think I could even bugger a monk if he had hair like that,” one young man exclaimed, then immediately ducked his head when his comrades began teasing him about his sexual preferences.

With a quick flash of his knife once again, Herbert slashed her monk’s robe from neck to hem and shoulder to wrist. As the drab brown fabric fell to the rush-covered floor, Herbert looked over her double layers of tunics and braies, which made her look heavy, then up and down what he must have considered a massive height for a woman. His upper lip curled with distaste.

Herbert eyed Blanche then, and she slanted her eyes at him seductively and jutted her breasts out in blatant invitation. With disgust, Rain saw Herbert’s mouth go slack and spittle pool at the edges.

She was beginning to think she’d better act quickly. For sure, she was not going to seduce this soldier into leading her to the king with her good looks. “Listen,” she interrupted his lascivious perusal of Blanche’s charms, “I’m a physician—a surgeon in
my country. Your king will want to speak with me.”

Herbert said a vulgar word, and his fellow soldiers laughed snidely. “A woman physician? I think not. The only wits a woman has are betwixt her legs.” The soldiers guffawed in agreement.

Rain stiffened her shoulders angrily. “And the only intelligence you have is—”

Before Rain had a chance to finish, Herbert’s fist shot out and hit her chin. With a snap, her neck went back and she fell to the ground, her head striking the timber wall with a loud thud.

Rain didn’t awaken until the next morning, when she found herself lying on a hard dirt floor that smelled strongly of stale urine, dampness, and other horrid odors. Her arms had been untied and she sat up with a wince, putting a hand first to the goose egg on the back of her head and then to her aching chin. Moving her jaw from side to side, she decided the brute hadn’t broken it, but not for lack of trying.

Hearing a squeaking sound behind her, she sat up sharply, causing her jaw to throb even more painfully.
Rats
, she realized immediately. They had put her in a damp underground room, and there were rats in the vicinity.

Rain stood to get her bearings. The cell was no more than eight-by-eight feet and bare, except for a bench under the lone narrow window slit, a slop bucket in the corner, and, on the floor near the thick wooden door, a pottery jug of water and a trencher with a piece of moldy flat bread and a hunk of meat. A rat nibbled on the meat.

Rain’s survival instincts kicked in. She was alive. Selik was alive. That was all that was important now. She still had hope.

With determination, she braced herself and walked over to kick the rat away, picking up the bread.
The squealing rodent could come back later for the grayish meat, but she might need the stale bread for sustenance. And the water, of course.

By late afternoon, Rain’s hopeful spirits flagged. The screams and moans coming from nearby cubicles told her of other prisoners being held in the underground dungeon. No one had come to her cell in the many hours she’d been there, and she faced the frightening prospect of sleeping in this rat-infested hole.

She stood on the bench for what must have been the hundredth time and peered out the small window, which was on a level with the outer bailey. She had screamed for help endless times to the soldiers and servants who passed by, but to no avail. This time she just leaned her aching chin on the window ledge and stared out hopelessly.

Two well-dressed men were approaching from off to the left. One of them, a tall, dark-haired man in his early twenties, walked briskly, arguing loudly with his companion. His fur-lined mantle swished open to reveal a beautiful blue tunic with a silver linked belt, worn over dark braies and fine leather boots. As he turned his face, Rain gasped. Oh, my God! He looked just like her brother Eddie, who had died in Lebanon.

The fine hairs stood up all over Rain’s body as her eyes riveted on the dragon brooch holding his shoulder mantle in place. Quickly, Rain lifted her two tunics and burrowed beneath the waistband of her braies. Thank God, the soldiers hadn’t yet discovered her waist pack. She pulled out the brooch, then looked back at the man, who drew closer. The two brooches matched exactly.

He must be Eirik, Rain realized immediately. Her half brother from the past. Tykir’s brother.

“Eirik,” she called out hopefully, but he didn’t hear her. “Eirik!”

Still he ignored her. In a moment, he would have passed and all Rain’s prospects for release with him.

Okay, God, how about a little help here?
Rain prayed frantically.

She shouted, “Eirik!” at the top of her kings. Just then a slight wind came up, carrying her scream, and Eirik turned toward the window, his dark brows furrowing in confusion.

“Eirik, over here!” she yelled.

He came closer, ignoring the complaints of his companion, who wanted to return to the castle hall. Hunkering down, he peered into the little window.

“Eirik, thank God you finally heard me. Hurry. You’ve got to get me out of here. I’m your sister—Oh, I know you’ve never heard of me, but I’ll explain everything later. Just have the guards release me. We have to help Selik—hurry!”

“I have no sister,” Eirik snapped and was about to stand.

“Yes, you do. I’m Rain—Thoraine Jordan. Ruby’s daughter. See,” she said, holding the brooch up for him to see.

“Let me see that,” he snarled, trying to grab the pin, but she pulled it out of his reach. Once she gave up the brooch, she might not have any proof of her identity. Funny, she’d never thought of the priceless heirloom as evidence before. She almost giggled hysterically.

Eirik squinted, trying to peer at her features through the window. “Bloody hell!” he said finally, then stood and walked away.

Stunned, she just stared after his departing back. He hadn’t believed her after all. She sank down to the bench and let the tears run down her cheeks in endless streams. She didn’t care so much about herself. It was Selik. She feared desperately for his life and what the damn Saxons had been doing to torture him the past week.

A grating of the door hinge jarred Rain to attention, and the huge door swung outward, allowing Eirik to enter.

Eirik ducked his head and entered the tiny room, dwarfing it by his size and magnificent clothing. He scrutinized her coldly. “Talk,” he finally ordered.

“Have a seat,” Rain offered, wiping at the wetness on her cheeks and waving to the bench on which she still sat. “Would you like some refreshments?” she asked with mock politeness.

“Your sarcasm is misplaced, wench,” Eirik snapped. “I know not who you are, but one thing is certain—you are not my sister.”

Rain stood and walked up to him, pushed beyond her endurance. She glared at him, hands on hips.

Eirik looked her over disdainfully, then had the nerve to say, “You are big…for a woman, that is.”

“Tall.”

“What?”

“Tall. I’m tall, not big, you Dark Age jerk.”

His lips twitched with a smile. “Jerk—that is a word I know. I learned it onct from—” He stopped abruptly, his eyes widening with understanding. Then he took her by the arm and pulled her toward the door. “Come. We will talk in my room.”

With little protest, the guard allowed Eirik to lead her from the prison. Apparently, Eirik held a position of some importance in King Athelstan’s court. In fact, she remembered Tykir saying something to that effect. Maybe he would be able to help Selik.

Eirik’s small but opulent room was in a far corridor of Winchester Castle, a favorite residence of the king. Now that they were alone, Rain couldn’t help herself. She launched herself against Eirik’s chest, hugging him tightly. “Oh, God, you have no idea how much you resemble my brother Eddie. I didn’t
know how much I missed Eddie until I saw you. You could be his twin.”

“And where is this Eddie now?” Eirik asked hesitantly, putting Rain away from him.

“Dead,” Rain said, sniffing loudly. “Killed in Lebanon more than ten years ago. He served in the Marines and…” Her words trailed off as she realized that Eirik didn’t understand most of what she’d said and that he was staring at her with suspicion.

Rain bent her head, trying to gather strength, and noticed her fisted hand. She opened it and saw the dragon brooch—the precious pin her mother claimed was given to her by her husband Thork. Unable to think of anything to say that would convince Eirik, she merely handed him the brooch.

He motioned Rain to sit in the only chair while he sank down onto the bed, stretching out his long legs. He undid the brooch on his shoulder, letting the fur-lined mantle fall behind him on the mattress. For a long time, he just stared at the two pins in his large palms. Rain thought she saw flickers of pain and tightly held emotion in his pale blue eyes.

Finally, his eyes lifted and locked with hers. “Tell me,” he demanded hoarsely.

When she finished her unbelievable story, he said, “I ne’er believed Ruby’s story of coming from the future; nor do I accept it from you.”

Rain waved a hand in the air dismissively. “Ruby is my mother. Whether you think we came from another time or another country isn’t important now. The most important thing is getting Selik free. Can you help me? Have you seen him?”

“I just came from his prison,” he said, rubbing the nape of his neck wearily. “And, nay, I cannot help him. I have already tried. Selik has pushed Athelstan too far. The king will not bend this time.”

Rain couldn’t stop the low, mewling sound of distress deep in her throat. She shivered with the
cold fear that swept over her and wished she could crawl under the furs on Eirik’s bed and sleep and sleep. And when she awakened, this whole nightmare would have ended, and she would be back in Selik’s arms.

“Perhaps if I talked to the king, I could convince him.”

Eirik slanted her a look of disbelief. “Not bloody likely.”

“But I’ve heard that Athelstan has a need for good healers. I’m a surgeon—a good one, Eirik. There are medical marvels he’s never dreamed of that I could tell him about, services I can provide—”

“You are a physician? Truly?” Eirik’s mouth slackened with amazement.

Rain nodded. “I graduated from college when I was twenty and went through medical school in a record four years. I have a rather high I.Q.,” she said with an embarrassed shrug of her shoulders. “Then I served a two-year internship in an army hospital to pay off some college loans before becoming a surgeon. I’ve been helping at the hospitium in Jorvik, but believe me, I know much more than those primitive healers.”

“Boastful, are you?” Eirik said, grinning.

“No, desperate.”

“In your desperation, wouldst you, perchance, lie?”

“I’m not lying,” she said with a groan. “What can I say to prove what I tell you? Let me think. In my time, we can artificially inseminate a woman who had previously been unable to conceive. We can reattach a limb that has been severed totally, and even regain some of the bodily functions. There are heart and kidney transplants. All children are vaccinated against smallpox, and—”

“Enough!” he said, holding up two hands as if in surrender. “The king may be interested in your
tales of such a strange world, even if they are not true. Whether he will consider a reprieve is a totally different story, however. Do not get your hopes up needlessly.”