Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

The eighth day of the men's sojourn on the island

She was breathing softly. The night was still, and everyone was abed. Eldberg shifted position, attempting to ease the pressure on his aching shoulders.

How long had it been? Seven nights or eight? No man had come. There were only women's voices in the longhouse and outside these walls. Sometimes, children.

His captor told him nothing—maintaining her torment, treating him as her thrall. He was fed and watered by her hand as if he was a dog. Worse, in the way he was kept tied and forced to service her. It was merely his tongue she wanted and his humiliation.

Kneeling up, he leaned his forehead against the bed-furs. His arse cheeks were as numb as two sides of hanging pork. At least the weather was temperate, or he'd have two shriveled balls to complain of besides. The wench had promised more than once to fetch him clothing, but naught had come of it.

His head was a deal better, at least.

The woman stirred with a soft moan. Not for the first time, he wished he lay beside her. ‘Twould be something to stretch out and find proper rest, even better to have her pinned beneath him.

A sigh and creak told him she was awake. Though the room was almost entirely dark, his vision was accustomed. Sitting up, she lowered her feet to the floor, then made her way to the window. Hooking back the animal skin there, moonlight flooded through, silhouetting her head and shoulders against the small opening. She leaned out, breathing deeply of the night air.

Half-closing his eyes, Eldberg feigned sleep. It would not do for her to think him watching her. At last, she picked up her shawl and left the chamber. Where was she off to? The privy? She rarely sought that before dawn. Shuffling up on his knees, he rested his cheek where the covers had been thrown back, inhaling her scent.

He remained so for some while before noticing something beneath the pillow—a dark shape partially revealed.

Where was she?

He glanced over at the dividing curtain and listened for any sound of her approach.

There was none.

Raising his foot, he nudged the object further into view, and his heart lurched to see it—‘twas the dagger.

Did he have time to acquire it before her return?

Swiftly, he maneuvered the knife with his toes, drawing it closer until he was able to take the leather-wrapped hilt between his teeth. Angling the blade, he met the sealskin twined about his wrists, sawing where it stretched between. Several times, the sharp tip pierced his skin, but he ignored the pain. This was his chance!

When his arms dropped free, he could have shouted in triumph.

Thanks be to Odin!

He made do with offering up a silent prayer, all the while rubbing at his wrists. His fingers prickled as the blood fought to return. He flexed them repeatedly, willing them to obey. There would surely be a nightwatch outside, and he might need to twist a neck or two. He'd take the knife, though he doubted his arms had strength yet to wield it with force.

Crawling, he located one of the woman's tunics and wrapped it about his waist, twice knotting the sleeves. It offered some dignity and a modicum of protection for his private parts.

Getting to his feet proved a further challenge. He managed to reach the window but saw there only night sky and far-reaching dunes. He then peered into the gloom of the main hall. Light filtered through a hole far up in the vaulted roof, where the smoke from the fire-pit escaped.

As far as he could tell, the place was empty, but he kept close to the wall, lest someone be sleeping where he could not discern. The far side of the hall showed him another curtain, dividing a second sleeping chamber, no doubt. He couldn't leave without inspecting it—for was there not a chance one of his own men was kept in that place, bound as Eldberg had been?

He shuffled slowly, taking care, until he came close enough to hear the snores of those beyond. Looking beyond the curtain, he counted five women upon simple pallets. ‘Twas disappointing, but Eldberg was convinced his men were here among these people. He could not be the only survivor of his ship.

Returning to the main door, he prepared himself. The knife he clutched in one raised hand. What he lacked in skill after captivity, he would make up for in having the advantage of surprise. With a great pull upon the heavy wood, Eldberg lunged through in anticipation of meeting with resistance. However, he swiped at empty air. There was no one on the other side.

No one at all.

Stepping farther, he found the place deserted. ‘Twas more than strange! Intrigued, he took in his surroundings. Huts ranged on either side of the longhouse, facing the curve of a wide beach torn by rocks. The sea was little more than a silvered thread glimmering under the moon's brightness, its lonely waves a far-off whisper.

Was his ship down there, waiting to be reclaimed? Or had it been dashed apart, the wood splintered and scattered? A stab entered his heart at that thought, for such ruin of the ship would have imperiled his men.

He would not let himself think it!

He knew he was not the only one stranded here among strangers.

Eldberg tucked into the shadow at the turn of the wall. From there, he beheld a rising hillside, the landscape densely green. A light breeze passed through, shimmering the leaves. There would be places to conceal himself while he regained agility in his limbs and made his plans.

From not too far away came the sound of livestock penned behind the longhouse.

‘Twas a balmy night—far warmer than was usual, even at this time, not long past midsumor . They'd surely not drifted so much off their course as to be in southern waters. His ship had been headed northwest, toward the scattered Hjatlands , when the storm had descended, and they'd encountered the strange mist upon the water. Besides which, the woman who'd had charge of him was Norse-blooded. Her pale skin and hair attested to that, as did her dialect, which closely resembled his own.

Eldberg glanced once more across the width of the settlement, but a sudden movement to his left had him jerking back. A slender figure passed out of the hut two along from where he stood, her white-blonde hair plaited long.

His wench!

He tightened his hold on the knife. He'd a mind to tackle her to the ground and make her tell him all he wished to know. Only as the woman turned to glance behind her did he see her face, fraught with tension.

Eldberg breathed out slowly.

Not her, after all, though the resemblance was very like. He remained as he was while the woman hurried off. Hedda walked with a more confident stride. She was a fearless one for all her infuriating arrogance. This maid looked scared of her own shadow.

A coincidence, nonetheless, and one that made him ponder. Were the women meeting on the beach this night? ‘Twas not unheard of for womenfolk to have their secret gatherings, especially around the solstice. If so, it presented him with another chance.

He passed behind the huts until he reached that where the woman had emerged. He would see what he could find.

Entering the modest dwelling, he had once more to adjust his eyes. A faint glow came from embers in a fire-pit, but he could make out little. A slight tang of horse hung upon the air, though this was surely not a stable.

A shuffling in the corner caught his attention, and a voice called falteringly, "Frida?"

A masculine voice, at last! And one whose cadence he would swear was familiar.

"Gunnar?" Eldberg spoke low.

"Aye!" The voice came loud, the excitement in it unconcealed. "Who goes there? Be it my jarl?"

"By Thor and Odin and all the gods!" Eldberg's heart sprung with joy. Never had he been more pleased to receive a man's greeting.

Bending to the fire-pit, Eldberg blew to rouse the flames.

"How fare you?" He approached the pallet near the wall where Gunnar lay. "Show me your bonds, and I'll cut them. We must make haste."

"Bonds?" The other man rubbed at his eyes. "I have none, and I fare well, but for the wound to my ankle. The lady who houses me has tended it. Another week or so, and I believe I may walk again."

No bonds?

Eldberg didn't know what to make of that, but it was one less obstacle to taking Gunnar with him.

"Come. Place your arm about my shoulder." It would be a struggle, but having found his Skálavík brother, Eldberg had no intention of leaving him.

Gunnar frowned. "But 'tis the middle of the night, and where is it you wish us to go?"

The man was clearly suffering from more than an injury to his ankle. Had he a head wound that robbed him of sense?

"We must escape while we can." Eldberg crouched beside him. "Who knows when your captor may return."

"My captor?" Gunnar seemed greatly confused. "Without Frida and the healer, Elin, I fear I would have lost my foot." He pushed himself into a seated position. "Though ‘tis a strange place, to be sure. Something happened to the menfolk. Frida won't tell me what occurred, but they've traveled someplace. I know not how many days have passed since their journeying."

No men! Good luck, indeed! Though ‘twas an unnatural thing to leave any place without men to protect it, to sow and harvest and fish, not to mention maintaining order.

"All the better for us! It shall be easy to take control. If we might act before these men return, all the easier." Eldberg's mind whirled. "Tell me, what of our crew?"

"You do not know?" Gunnar looked pained. "There are but six of us, as were found upon the beach. As for the rest, I cannot say… cast up in some other place or taking their sleep upon the sea's bed. Frida knows not. Each man is cared for, she assures me."

"Does she now!" A fierceness throbbed at Eldberg's temple.

Only six? They'd been sixteen on setting out. Bar Gunnar himself, all were seasoned men who knew the danger of a voyage. Still, Eldberg felt responsible. Their journey would not have been made were it not for his fevered desire.

It was some comfort that Gunnar had been cared for better than he, but who knew how the others truly fared. He trusted not the inhabitants of this place. Knowing there were but five men besides himself also placed a complication. Going by the number of dwellings, they were greatly outnumbered, even if only by womenfolk.

"What of the boat?" Eldberg feared to hear the answer, for it must be bad if so many of his men had been lost to the sea.

"Hauled onto the dunes, Frida says, safe from the tide." Gunnar smiled encouragingly. "There is damage, but it might be repaired."

Eldberg nodded, but his hopes were modest. Even if they were to make it seaworthy, six was not enough to man the oars. His thoughts returned to the moment. Though Gunnar seemed content to stay as he was, Eldberg had no desire to be caught in this place—nor to be returned to his former enslavement.

"This woman, Frida," Eldberg narrowed his eyes. "She's bedded you?"

Gunnar hesitated. "She's a true maid—such as I never thought to meet."

"A virgin, eh? You never did have luck with women!" Eldberg gave him a brotherly thump upon the shoulder.

Gunnar grinned. "I've been bathed head to toe more than once since I arrived, and I've no complaints."

"Aye?" Eldberg sighed. This Frida sounded soft, as a woman should be—not like that Valkyrie of his.

"Well, just see your head doesn't turn too far. Better that the wench falls for you, rather than the other way about. Make her trust you."

A plan was already forming in his mind. He must find his other men and ascertain their strength. If they could win over these women, the situation might be turned to their advantage.

"Rest now." Eldberg clasped Gunnar's hand. "And remember all I said. I shall come for you again. In the meantime, find out what you can, and twist this woman to your finger. Each of us must do our part."

Eldberg took his leave, slipping out again into the night. He looked down toward the sands. He was keen to see the state of the ship for himself, but it was too risky to venture there. If the women were gathered upon the beach, he would surely be caught—and it would not aid his cause to threaten them with the knife.

Did he dare look into more of the dwellings to try to locate the remaining four men? Or ought he now to return to his place of captivity, making it appear he'd never loosened his bonds?

‘Twas a vile proposition.

He looked longingly at the forested slope. To take himself there was tempting, but he could not win over his Valkyrie if she found him missing. Desire to punish her gnawed at him, but he would need to temper that need with kindlier seduction. The wench's loins were already well-heated. With the right treatment, she would be utterly his plaything and he the master.

His cock stiffened with that thought.

Glancing upon the hillside again, he noted its lushness—not pines or firs, as grew near Skálavík, but trees with broader leaves and some with trunks tall and bare, topped heavy with fruit.

A strange place indeed .

What he'd give to explore…

His roving gaze caught movement some way up the slope, hair silvered in the radiance of the shining moon and long, pale limbs climbing. The next moment, the figure was gone, hidden by the surrounding greenery.

‘Twas his woman!

If she was alone, what better opportunity to confront her? By the time he was finished, she would be weeping for his mercy and begging him for what she needed.

He smiled to himself. It would be his pleasure to show her exactly what that might be.