Viking Bride (4 page)

“How long have you been a witch?” Eliza
looped her needle through the whorl, dragging another strand of
wool into the complicated knot. She sat in her mother’s alcove by
the fire.

Karna stared at the ceiling. “Twenty-nine
years. I started as a slip of a girl, then gave it up when I met
your father.”

“Did my father know?”

“He was aware, but it wasn’t something we
spoke about. I was trying to a make a new life with him as a wife
and a mother, not a witch. The church in France did not look kindly
upon witches.” She turned back to her own project, sewing a pair of
leather shoes for Eliza.

Voices murmured around them, the other
occupants of the longhouse returned for the evening. Kelnar was
still gone. Fours of inspecting ships and weapons.
Did Angmar
spoil me somehow?

She worked her knots by firelight, still not
fully comfortable with the Viking way of sock making. Her mother
insisted that the great, knotted sheets of wool made a sock finer
than any in France. They were a devilish amount of work, that was
for sure. It was the story of her new life.

“Why did you return to the pagan ways?” Eliza
asked.

“It’s a pagan country. I needed to stand out,
something the other women would respect. Or fear. Fear works just
as well.”

“And it’s not like the church was going to
burn you for it.”

“Not only did they not burn me, they elevated
me to a place of power. My ability as a seer saved my life. It
saved yours, too.”

“Can you teach me?”

Her mother cocked an eyebrow. “I assumed your
father would have raised you not to ask questions like that.”

“My father raised me to be practical.” She
tapped the dagger tucked into the front of her dress. “Kelnar told
me I should gut the next man that touched me. I’ve gutted countless
fish. Seafish and riverfish, trout and carp. Another man lays a
hand on me I don’t appreciate, he’ll be so much landcarp.”

“Landcarp, huh? You have spirit, girl. That’s
good. Did Angmar hurt you?”

Eliza pursed her lips. “Yes. I will not be
hurt again.”

“Good. Survival is mental. Here in the Norse
county, your mind is your most important asset.”

Eliza snorted. “Because Kelnar abducted me
for my mind.” She held a hand to breasts, cupping her ample
swell.

“He abducted you because I convinced him he
needed you.” She tightened a few stiches in her leather. “The
breasts may have helped,” she conceded.

“Well, I’m here. I’m alive. I’m doing better
than Cordith and Aldith.”

“Ah, your friends from the village. They are
unlucky. Most Viking men would not mistreat them so. Kelnar’s band
is still a disparate force. He cannot control everyone.”

“They were on his ship. How can he control a
village like this if he cannot control his own ship?”

“The men of his ship are split. Half are
loyal to him absolutely. Half are the men he’d most wish to see
fall in combat.”

“And Angmar?”

“The son of one he’d wish to see fall. Kelnar
spared him for political reasons, and his transgressions will
become a debt for his family.”

“So what about Cordith and Aldith? Can
anything be done or will they be bred like cattle?”

“Things can be done. I do not get on well
with all the Norse women, but many of them are transplants—”

“Like us?”

“Very much like us. Some from France, some
from other kingdoms. They will not appreciate seeing women-folk
being abused.”

“Who were the blonde ones watching Angmar
take me?”

“If they were blonde, they were from the
north. The old Norse. You are a threat to them, and they do not
fear you the way they fear me.”

“Why not? If I’m your daughter…”

Karna shook her head. “You must not tell
anyone of that. I am the chief’s witch. You are to be his wife. I
will speak to those that will listen, and we will help your
friends. You must help yourself.”

“I don’t know how. I lay with Kelnar, but
beyond that, I am a practical girl. I can gut a fish a dozen ways,
and I can sew just enough to keep a shirt from falling apart.” She
held up the half-finished sock. “With another week of practice, I
might even be able to make a sock.”

“You have already begun to learn their
language. The chief has given you a dagger. That is a significant
present. One given to a bride. Those facts will not be lost on the
women of the village. Be strong. Be resolute. If you are to be
queen, you can rule from wisdom, not fear.” She grinned. “Besides,
fear is reserved for witches.”

“I will take power wherever I can, but I
can’t just wait here in comfort while others are left to suffer
indefinitely.”

“Fine. You do not wish to wait? Take your
dagger. Go reclaim your friends from the men that hold them. The
Vikings respect nothing so much as strength.”

Eliza slid the sheath out of her dress, then
slipped the blade free. It gleamed silver in the firelight with
whorls of pale gray visible once she looked at it more closely.
“This is not an ordinary blade, is it?”

“No. It’s a special steel, usually reserved
for swords.”

Eliza dropped the knotted mass of sock onto
the tip and pulled. The blade sliced true, sheering the threads
with the barest effort. The back of the blade had a cross stamped
into it, and tiny letters beside it.

“What does this mean, ‘Ulfbehrt.’”

“The maker’s mark.”

Eliza dropped the sliced cloth and tucked her
dagger back into the sheath. She didn’t tuck the sheath back into
her dress, though. Instead, she let it fall between her breasts,
visible to the world. “I will return soon, and I will have two
women with me. Will it be a problem for Kelnar?”

“Strength is never a problem for a chief. Go.
Good luck.”

Darkness hung heavy as a winter blanket,
promising more snow before the sun rose again. Eliza hurried toward
the western edge of the village, her hands balled into fists. Part
of her looked forward to the fight. She reached up, squeezed the
hilt of the dagger until her knuckles were white. Better to stand
up to a bully than let him peck away at her, whittling her down
like a chicken at a bucket of grain.

The wind tossed her dark hair out behind her,
and when she came around the corner of the last house and entered
the firelight, she knew she looked like a vengeful angel. The blade
shone brightly in her fist.

Viking men sat around the fire, cups of mead
before them. Cordith and Aldith each sat on one side of a big,
bearded man in a leather jerkin. He laughed when he saw her.

“What’s this, Kelnar’s little pet?”

Eliza glared at him. “You have my
friends.”

He glanced from side to side, shrugged.
“Girl, do you know who I am?”

“A fat pile of goat shit that’s three minutes
from being a dead man. Cordith, Aldith, get up.”

The man gripped their arms and squeezed.
Aldith squeaked, but sat back down. Cordith spoke, softly, “Child,
do not anger such as him. It will only make our lives worse, yours
most of all.”

“I do not care who you are,” Eliza said to
the Viking. She took a step closer, pointed her blade at him.
“Release the women or die.”

“You have shamed my son already.” He let go
of Cordith, grabbed the hilt of an axe, and rose.

“You’re Angmar’s father?”

“I am. I am Bor, mightiest warrior in the
north. And since you are here, I will finish what my son has
begun.” He took a lumbering step forward.

“No, you won’t.” Eliza reversed the grip on
her dagger, pinched the blade between her fingers. A flick sent it
spinning into Angmar’s father.

He cried out, his hands reaching for his
face. The hilt protruded from his hands, the blade buried in his
eye.

Eliza didn’t hesitate. His axe never hit the
ground. She leapt forward and caught it by the handle and rose,
twisting it up and around. The blade bit into the side of his neck,
but he was already falling, lifeless.

She dropped the axe, plucked her dagger free
of the fallen giant. His blood pumped into the dirt. The men were
rising, swords and axes shaking loose. She glared at them each in
turn, daring one to come forward and face her blade.

“Sit down, boys.” A withered, white haired
woman strode into the circle. “Bor got no more’n he deserved. The
next one of you fools that moves toward this girl will get the
same, I imagine.”

The men didn’t sit back down, but none
stepped forward to face her, either.

“Girl, I suggest you take you friends and
make your way back to your part of the village.”

Eliza glared at the woman, but eventually
nodded.

“Good.” The old woman turned back to the men.
“Get this carcass out of here. A man that can’t defend his own fire
don’t deserve a place of power.”

Cordith tugged on Eliza’s sleeve. “She’s
right, child. You claimed us, now get us out of here.”

Eliza helped Aldith to her feet, then slipped
the girl’s arm around her shoulder when she saw she could barely
walk. “We’re going to the far side of the village. Kelnar’s witch
is expecting us.”

They trudged off into the darkness, grumbling
and threats echoing behind them.

***

Kelnar was in the longhouse when they
returned. He watched, an eyebrow raised, as Eliza led the other
women in and, with her mother’s help, got them situated with
buckets of water and a pair of new dresses.

“Your friends from your village?” he
asked.

“Yes.”

“I thought they were claimed by Bor.” He
spoke in bad French.

“They were.”

Kelnar’s expression darkened, his brow
furrowing. “And you freed his captives? This is not a thing done in
the north.”

“No. I claimed them as my own. All of Bor’s
warriors witnessed it.”

“And Bor let you leave?”

“Bor was in no position to complain. I killed
him.” She met Kelnar’s eye as she said it.

A slow smile spread across his face. “You?
You faced Bor and killed? Did you cut his throat in the dark?”

“No. I challenged him; he accepted; I
won.”

“She stuck that dagger right in his eye, she
did,” Cordith added. “His whole clan witnessed it.”

Kelnar laughed, then switched back to Norse
and spoke louder. “Bor was bested by this woman.” He pointed to
Eliza. “He is dead.”

The occupants of the longhouse, warriors and
elders alike, stamped their feet in appreciation.

“It is not often one of our women bests one
such as Bor.”

“But it happens occasionally,” Karna said,
looking up from where she was washing Aldith’s face.

“It does, yes,” Kelnar said.

Karna continued, “And what happens to those
women, Kelnar? Tell her.”

“Often they become war leaders. Though most
often they have been raised to war by their father and brothers.
Were you raised to war, Eliza?”

“My father was a fisherman. I learned my way
around a knife at an early age.”

Kelnar shrugged. “A knife is a fine weapon,
though not much use against a sword. Perhaps you are not ready
yet.”

“Perhaps not.”

“Regardless, come outside with me. I need to
check the ships one last time this evening.”

Eliza looked to Cordith and Aldith.

“They’ll survive a few hours, girl. Go on.”
Karna shooed her away.

Eliza gathered a warm cloak, then followed
Kelnar back out into the night. They strolled along, as if they
hadn’t a care in the world. After a time, Kelnar took her hand.

“How do you like the north?” he asked.

“It’s cold. And hard.”

“It is certainly those things. Has Karna
explained why I claimed you?”

“You wish to bring civilization to the
Vikings?”

“That’s partially true. My people are of many
peoples, from all corners of the world. We have your black hair,
our blonde hair, even a few fire haired folk from the green isles
to the far west. I have seen Karna about this village since I was a
young man. She has carved a place out for herself here, and she’s
done it through cleverness and respect and fear.”

“So what does that have to do with me?”

“My people will only be ruled by one that is
clever and strong, one that is worthy of respect, but also feared.
Your mother would have made a great queen, if she were younger. So
instead I turn to her daughter.”

Eliza stumbled. “I…”

“I know. You need not say anything. Your
mother is a score of years older than I am, else I would have
chosen her. Today you have proven that you have at least a sliver
of the steel that she does. Keep proving it.”

They broke free of the houses and onto the
beach. Flickering torches marked the bow of each of the longships
pulled up on the shingle.

“I’m going out on another raid tomorrow. You
will be here without me. While I’m gone, you will be
threatened.”

Eliza squeezed his hand. “Okay.”

“Killing Bor may do you as much harm as good.
Now the other clans will know you are a threat. You realize that
each of them hoped to send a daughter to take my hand?”

“No.”

“They did.”

Eliza gulped, clutched at her dagger with
free hand. Every woman in the village would be against her. Most of
the men, too, if their sisters or lovers spurned her. At least
she’d have her mother and Cordith to support her. Maybe in a few
days Aldith, too. She had a feeling she was going to need them all
to watch her back.

“How long will you be gone?”

“A few weeks, a month, forever. It is hard to
say.” He stopped at the bow of a particularly large ship. “Come
aboard with me.”

He waved to the sentry peering over the bow
at them, then led her around to a long plank. Eliza followed him up
to the deck. The ship was neatly arranged. Oars tucked along the
gunwales, ropes coiled around the mast and the platforms fore and
aft.