Season of the Sun (25 page)

Kol said, “But that is away from the fjord, Orm! Do you not wish to be gone from here? All of us are outlaws now. The
thing
will have come to no other conclusion, not with that silly little girl speaking against us.” Kol turned on Ingunn. “Aye, 'twas
her
proud father who called them all against us, we all know it well!”

“There are none to follow us as of yet. Fret not, Kol, for I am your leader and I do not make mistakes.”

The man spit on the ground near Ingunn's mare. “You brought her, did you not? You plan to wed with her!”

Orm's eyes narrowed. Then, to Zarabeth's astonishment, he laughed. “Listen, both of you. Aye, Bein, I see the same doubts in your ugly face. Aye, I have Harald's daughter here because with her in our midst, he would dare not attack us. Have none of you any wits? She is a superb hostage!”

Ingunn gasped aloud. “Nay, you lie! I came to you because I did not believe you had done those things—”

“Ah, but I did, Ingunn.”

His voice was very soft, terrifyingly so. Ingunn turned white, her eyes dilated. Zarabeth felt a lurch of pity for her, and an increasing fear of Orm.

Then Orm laughed again. “I am no monster, Ingunn. I did nothing at all. I was but testing you. Kol heard from an old man that one of the Ingolfsson daughters said it was us. She lied. All of you, attend me now. This beautiful woman, Ingunn, daughter of Harald—I will wed her, for I love her dearly, and all of us will leave this cold land and make our way to the west. We will settle in the Danelaw. We will buy
lands there with all the gold and silver we have gained in our trading.”

Bein and Kol spoke low to each other. Zarabeth felt confounded. He was slippery, his tongue agile, and she was afraid of him. Color had returned to Ingunn's cheeks, and now she was smiling, under Orm's spell again.

I must escape, Zarabeth thought over and over as the afternoon hours passed. I must escape. Orm would kill, then laugh and deny it even as the blood dried on his hands.

That evening when they stopped to make camp, Zarabeth was once again sent out for firewood, Kol her companion. He grunted at her, pointing to the branches that lay on the ground. He wasn't going to help, merely watch her.

Finally she said, knowing the time had come, “I must be by myself for a moment . . . just for a moment.”

He looked at her, no expression whatsoever on his face. “I will watch,” he said, and crossed his arms over his chest.

She discarded several ideas in the space of a moment. Finally, she merely shrugged, looked past him, her eyes widening. When he whirled around, she picked up the skirt of her gown and ran as fast as she could into the pine forest, ducking behind a thick pine at the last moment. There was no crashing of undergrowth, for Kol was silent as an animal. She felt terror creeping over her. Where was he?

Suddenly she heard him yell, “Woman, wait! You come here, do you hear me?” He paused and she held her breath, for he was but feet away. “Orm will be mightily displeased with you. He will punish you! His punishments aren't pleasant. He could break your jaw this time. Come here, now!”

He was closer, moving silently. She fancied she
could hear his breathing. She closed her eyes, pressing closer against the tree bark. He was saying again, “You won't escape me, woman. Come now, and I won't be angry with you.”

She didn't move. But she was ready, and suddenly he was there, coming around the tree, his movements stealthy, his step silent. He saw her and jerked back, but not in time. She heaved a rock as hard as she could in his belly. He howled, falling forward, and when he did, Zarabeth lifted that same rock again and struck him on the head. He went down without another sound. Now you are silent, she thought.

She was free. It was exhilarating. For a moment she couldn't believe it. She stood over Kol, panting, holding that blessed rock. She had seen the rock and had seen herself hitting him with it, but the fact that she had actually succeeded left her momentarily dumbfounded. Quickly she knelt beside him and took his knife. Then she was running through the forest, knowing even as she ducked branches that the trees were fast thinning. In a very few minutes she would come out into a long narrow meadow. She would be in full view of Orm and Bein. Ah, but the trees on the other side of the meadow were so near, not far at all. She could make it, if only she could run fast enough.

 

Magnus dismounted and stretched. He patted Thorgell's neck, then leaned down with Eines to check the tracks.

“We're close, Magnus.”

Magnus grunted.

“Two of the horses are carrying two people. I'd say a man and a woman on each of the horses.”

Magnus saw in his mind's eye Orm carrying Zarabeth in front of him. Who was the other woman? Ingunn?

“This other horse carries only a woman.”

Ingunn, he thought. It had to be. Who was the other woman?

“So,” he said, “we have three men and three women.”

“Aye, 'tis so.”

Magnus rose and looked toward the horizon. “He travels to the Oslo Fjord. I wager he has a vessel there, waiting for him, and I wager it is finely provisioned. Then he plans to leave Norway.”

Ragnar came up to him. “How old are the tracks?”

Eines turned his head away.

But Magnus knew. “They will make the fjord and their vessel before we can catch up with them.”

“Did she go with him willingly?”

Magnus turned to Ragnar then, saying in a low voice, “I know that you dislike her. But your reason is a paltry one, Ragnar. She took advantage of you, aye, that wasn't well done of her, for you had come to pity her and mayhap even trust her a little, but attend me. She was terrified for Lotti. She could think only of saving her little sister. Rid yourself of your dislike of her, else I must rid myself of a man I have held as a brother for many years.”

Ragnar's face was frozen.

“Would you not have done the same thing were your sister in danger? You would have killed, would you not, without thought? She did not want to hurt you, only escape you.”

“She is a woman.”

Magnus laughed at that. “Aye, she is, and she is my wife now. Make your peace with her.”

“I do not believe we will find her so that I can make peace, Magnus.” He turned now and placed both hands on his friend's shoulders. “You said it yourself: Orm will reach his vessel before we can catch up to him.”

Magnus shrugged him off. “Let us ride.”

But he knew that they should turn back and finish
the repairs on the
Sea Wind
's steering oar. But something made him kick Thorgell in the sides. He would ride to the edge of the fjord before he gave it up.

The horses were blowing hard when finally Magnus called a halt. There were six of them, all tough men, all seasoned warriors, armed and ready to fight. By Thor, he wanted Orm. He wanted to kill him. He cared not that Ingolfsson had a prior claim. Orm had taken Zarabeth.

He raised his eyes to the darkened sky. Thick gray clouds floated past the half-moon. It was quiet, so very quiet, and his thoughts were screams inside his head. His son, Lotti, and now Zarabeth. Had he sinned so grievously? Which gods had he so offended? No, he wouldn't believe that Zarabeth was dead. He wouldn't believe that Orm would reach his vessel first.

 

Zarabeth didn't look back. She focused on the line of pine trees across the meadow. She ran until the stitch in her side was so bad she was holding her arms around herself. But she didn't stop. It was a twisted dead branch that tripped her, and she went flying. The grass was tall here, and it softened her fall.

She lay on her face, not moving, feeling the roiling pain through her chest as she tried to breathe. Then she heard the pounding of horses' hooves. Closer and closer. She pressed her cheek to the grass, and the pounding was louder and the earth was shaking beneath her face.

“By Thor, she is hurt!”

It was Orm. She lurched up and tried to run, but she stumbled again, and would have fallen except Orm leaned off his horse and jerked her up around the waist. He held her against his side until he had ridden out of the tall grass. He set her down then. He didn't move, merely looked down at her.

“Why did you try to escape me, Zarabeth? I told
you that you should not try. Now I have no choice. I will have to punish you.”

She raised her head then. His face was as calm as his voice, but his eyes had darkened. They were glittering in the bright sunlight, and there was a wildness in them that stilled her tongue. She stood there saying nothing.

“Answer me, Zarabeth.”

“I want to go home. I want to return to Magnus.”

He laughed. “When we reach York I will have another slave collar put about your white neck. Come here.”

He carried her back to camp. His arms around her were gentle. He said nothing. She was afraid to face him. She feared she would see the madness in his eyes.

A fire was burning sluggishly. The smell of roasting pheasant was strong. Kol was sitting there on a log, holding his head in his hands. He looked up at her and she knew he would kill her if he had the chance. Ingunn was pale with rage. The other woman, Zarabeth realized now, had been beaten. She was bent, her eyes reddened from crying. She was in obvious pain.

“You found her,” Ingunn said, her voice flat.

“Aye, certainly. She is a woman and she was on foot. What would you have me do to punish her, Ingunn? A slave attempting to escape. It's a severe crime.”

“Let her work until she falls over.”

“That is not enough,” Orm said. “Look at poor Kol. She brought him low, and his head will pound for days to come. Nay, her punishment must be something she will not soon forget.”

“Flog her, then, I care not.”

“Her flesh is so very white. I dislike the thought of marking her. Did you beat her, Ingunn?”

“Aye, I did.”

“Did you mark her?”

“I don't know, for Magnus tended her.”

“There are other things I should prefer doing to her.”

Ingunn nodded toward the other woman. “Like the things you did to her?”

Zarabeth realized then that the other slave, that older woman who was thin and bent, her hair straggling down her back, had not been beaten. Orm had savaged her. He had raped her.

“Nay, Ingunn, I should do different things to Zarabeth. I shouldn't want her to cry as much as that hag did.”

Kol spoke up then. “We must leave, Orm. There is no time to punish the woman now. Magnus Haraldsson will come for her, I know, for I know his reputation.”

Bein said, grinning, “I would like to punish her as well, Orm.”

“You shan't take her, Orm! We will leave!” Ingunn was on her feet, shouting.

Suddenly Orm turned and backhanded her, sending her sprawling dangerously close to the fire. She cried out, scrambling away from the heat.

Orm merely rubbed his palms together. He was smiling, and again there was that glittering in his eyes, darkening them, but his expression was calm and his voice was even genial. “Do not tell me what I will or will not do again, Ingunn. Next time it will not go so easily with you. Now, I am hungry. Feed me and feed our poor slave here. After all her efforts, she must be in need of Bein's pheasant.”

Z
arabeth hated the dim half-light. It was nearing midnight, and yet that strange spongy light kept the night darkness at bay. She knew that regardless of darkness or light, Orm would come soon and he would rape her. He had watched her, saying nothing, merely sat cross-legged beside the fire, watching her. And Ingunn had watched him. As for Kol, he had vomited earlier, and now he slept. Bein had simply dragged the other woman to her feet and pulled her into the trees.

When they had come back, Bein shoved her to the ground and threw a blanket at her.

Zarabeth wondered if the woman was all right. She had never said a word, never acknowledged anyone else's presence, merely done as she had been told, her head bowed, her shoulders bent. She had no front teeth and her upper lip had sagged in, making her look older than she probably was. Zarabeth had no idea where she had been captured. Her gown was ragged, her feet bare, her hair tangled and matted to her head. Zarabeth wanted to go to her, but to her astonishment, some minutes later the woman was sound asleep, snoring. Zarabeth sat with her back against a pine tree. She waited. Orm had fed her, but not enough, and he had known it wasn't enough. He was toying with her. Her stomach rumbled and cramped with hunger. She needed to relieve herself,
and finally, in desperation, she said softly, “Ingunn, I must go into the forest for a moment.”

Ingunn looked away from her. Orm said, “I will take you, Zarabeth.”

“Nay, leave her be! I will go with her!”

Orm grinned at Ingunn. “If she wishes it badly enough, she can kill you, then she will have to deal only with me. Do you want that, Ingunn?”

“I want us to leave this place. I want us to go to the Danelaw and buy slaves and land and build a longhouse that surpasses my father's. I want us to be wedded, Orm.”

“All that? You must know that I have already been to the Danelaw and purchased land. Good farmland near the Thurlow River.”

Ingunn was obviously surprised. “You already sailed to the Danelaw?”

Bein said, “Aye, and we traded furs and hides and some sea ivory from walrus tusks. We even sold some slaves and—”

“Enough, Bein. Now, Ingunn, when we reach the Danelaw, we will buy more slaves. We already have two, and they are both fine, do you not agree?”

“Take the one over there for your men's lust, but leave Zarabeth here. Let her go. She will survive or she will die. I care not what happens to her now. Let us go, Orm, and be free of this land and of my father.”

“But you wanted me to avenge you. You begged me to sell this woman, for she had deceived Magnus and thwarted you. Your woman's words confuse me.”

Ingunn got to her feet. “I will take her into the forest now. I too must have some privacy.”

He shrugged, not moving when they left him.

“He will rape me, Ingunn. You know he will. Do you want him to do that?”

“I won't listen to you. Hurry now or he will come.”

“You're afraid of him. There is something wrong with him, Ingunn, surely you see it.”

“Hurry!”

But he was there soon enough, watching as the two women straightened their gowns.

“It is time for Zarabeth's punishment. Should you like to watch, Ingunn?”

“You will beat her?”

He shook his head. He was smiling, that strange calm smile. His eyes glittered in the dim midnight light.

“What will you do to her?”

“I will have Kol take her. Is that sufficient punishment?”

“Kol is ill from the blow she gave him.”

“Ah, then Bein.”

“He cannot. He raped the other slave. He is old and has not sufficient powers.”

“Then I am the only one left. She really must be punished. Go back to the camp, Ingunn. I will bring Zarabeth back when I am done with her.”

 

Magnus knew they were close, but not close enough. Already Orm and his party would be boarding his vessel. Perhaps they were pulling on the oars this very minute. Perhaps they were already sailing due south to Hedeby. He closed his eyes against the pain of losing her. So much loss. Too much. Where would Orm take her? Magnus knew he hadn't protected her as he had pledged to when he made his vow to her.

“By Thor, I don't believe it!”

Magnus turned at Eines's shout.

“Come here, Magnus, look! They're close, very close, not more than three hours ahead of us. Look at these tracks! Is the man a fool?”

“Aye,” Ragnar said. “A stupid fool. Does he not
care that someone could be following him? Does he think you a coward? Has he lost all his wits?”

Magnus felt fierce purpose fill him.

Ragnar said quietly behind him, “Ingunn is with them.”

“Aye, I know. Our horses are blown. Let them rest, but no longer than an hour.”

They were all exhausted, their muscles cramped and stiff, but not one of them complained. They hunkered down and ate dried beef and hard flat bread.

“What will you do with Ingunn?” Ragnar asked as he chewed the tough beef.

“I will give her back to my father. It will be up to him to decide what is to be done with her.”

Ragnar looked at him, and his voice was firm and strong. “I will take her, Magnus, if your father agrees to it. I will beat her, doubt it not, if she behaves churlishly. I can control her.”

Magnus smiled at his friend. “I believe you are the one who has lost his wits, Ragnar.”

 

Zarabeth faced Orm from a distance of six feet. Her gown was tattered and filthy. Her hair was matted and tangled down her back. She felt exposed and more afraid than she ever had in her life. Ingunn was walking away, her head lowered.

“Ingunn, no! Do not leave!”

She paused but did not turn back.

“I am not an ill-looking brute, Zarabeth. Why do you not want me?”

She looked at him then and saw the honest puzzlement on his face. She very nearly laughed. His eyes were calm as his voice. There was no madness in him yet. Still, he terrified her. He unbuckled the wide leather belt at his waist, all the while watching her.

“If you rape me I will kill you.”

He smiled. “You are a woman. You speak
nonsense, yet I do not like to be threatened by you, Zarabeth. If you don't wish to feel my belt against your back, keep your tongue in your mouth.” He raised the wide belt with the sword still deep in its scabbard.

She kept her eyes on his face and repeated, “If you rape me I will kill you. You will have to kill me first to protect yourself, for I swear it to my Christian God and to your Viking gods as well.”

He was on her before she could move. He slapped her hard. She staggered against a tree, lurched forward, and slumped down to her knees. He stood over her, looking down at her, rubbing his hands together.

She pushed her hair from her face. Her breathing was harsh; her cheek felt raw. She should simply let him take her. She shouldn't struggle against him. She should endure.

But something deep inside her rebelled. She didn't want to be passive; she didn't want to submit. She didn't want to force herself to endure, to silently suffer whatever he would mete out to her.

She raised her face then and said, “If I do not kill you, Magnus will.”

He raised his hand again, fisted it, then very slowly lowered it back to his side.

“I am as brave as Magnus but far more daring, as you know yourself. I am as strong as Magnus. As boys one of us would always win in wrestling and weight lifting. But he took one path, doing what his father demanded of him, wedding with that silly girl his family had selected for him, taking his grandfather's homestead, Malek, becoming naught but a farmer and a trader, whereas I . . . I wanted to . . .” He frowned as if waiting for the words to come into his mind. He was silent for many moments; then he shrugged. “I have known more women than Magnus. I would pleasure you more than he does. You come from the Danelaw. I will return you there, to your home, and
you will live well with me and not know any want. There is no reason for you to fight me.”

“There is every reason. Magnus is my husband. He is kind and loyal and he loves me.”

“He has deceived you, you stupid bitch. And those are words one would say of one's father. They are not the words a woman should say of a man who gave her passion. Kind? He is weak and looks not to himself to take what he wants. Loyal? Aye, Magnus is loyal, for his brothers would kill him were he not. He is part of them, not a man separate.” He saw that his words were having no effect. It infuriated him, but still he smiled, saying easily, “Like me, Magnus enjoys a variety of women. He will not hesitate to take them in front of your nose, be you wife or no. Did he not take Cyra with you there, watching? Did he not mock you with her presence?”

“I thought you said you knew more women than Magnus.”

His mouth tightened with irritation. “Of course I do, 'tis just that Magnus will take whatever female lives at his farmstead. He never ventures away for a woman as I have done.”

She whispered, “Ingunn . . . do you not plan to wed her? Do you not plan to keep me as your slave?”

He laughed and rubbed his knuckles over the thick reddish-blond stubble. His look was cunning. “If you come to me willingly, I could make Ingunn your slave.” He leaned down then and began to wrap a thick tress of her hair around his hand. “I would breed a babe off you with hair this color. A man who would command men, a man strong and powerful, a man who would rule all of Norway, all of England, a man who would make King Alfred's sons look like puking infants.”

“I would kill any child of yours.”

She had pushed him too far. His eyes glittered dark
and wild. She knew it, but still she wasn't fast enough. He grabbed her arms and pulled her to her feet. He did not strike her again, merely ripped the front of her gown to her waist. She was wearing a shift beneath it, and he ripped it as well, baring her breasts.

His belt lay on the ground, the sword in its scabbard still hooked over the leather. She didn't struggle yet, knowing instinctively that if she did, he would strike her again, and perhaps this time she would lose consciousness. She had to be alert, she had to act when she found the chance. She was stiff in his arms, but nothing more. His breathing was ragged and deep, and within moments her clothing was in rags around her bare feet.

“By Thor, you are more than I expected.” His hands were rough on her breasts as his mouth came over hers.

His hands pressed against her belly, and he was trying to wedge her legs apart. With a growl of frustration he pulled back and began to yank and pull at his tunic. When he was naked to the waist, he pulled her against him, moving his chest against her breasts, and he was groaning.

He released her for a moment to jerk off his trousers and rip off the cross-garters from his soft leather boots.

Zarabeth leapt for his sword. She had it in her hands, was trying to jerk it from its scabbard, when he was on her, his hands wrapped around her hair, and he was pulling her inexorably backward, and she was crying with the pain and with the bitter taste of failure.

He jerked the sword from her hand and threw it some feet away. He was naked now, over her, and suddenly he threw himself between her legs. He was smiling down at her and his eyes were filled with triumph.

He reared up to position himself. She lurched up, her fists pounding into his face. Her nails scored his cheeks and she felt the flesh tear away, felt his blood well over her fingers. He roared with anger and pain. His hands were around her throat and his fingers were squeezing hard and harder still and she felt pain in her chest, building and building, and she knew she would die now. He was cursing her and there was madness in him and now the madness was him.

Suddenly his hands fell away from her throat and air surged into her lungs. She coughed frantically, sucking in air.

“Hurry, Zarabeth!”

It was Ingunn. She stood over an unconscious Orm, his sword in her hand. She had struck him hard from behind with the sword handle.

“Is he dead?” Her voice ripped out, a curious croak, and the pain of it made her shake.

“No, no. We must hurry.”

Zarabeth pushed him off her and jumped to her feet. “I'm naked,” she said, staring down at herself dumbly.

“Here!”

Zarabeth caught Orm's tunic. She pulled it over her head. It came to her knees. It smelled of him.

“Horses, Ingunn. We must get the horses, else we won't have a chance!”

“Nay, Kol is awake, as is Bein, and the horses are kept close, you know that. We will go on foot. We can hide. Hurry, else he will awaken and catch us!”

Zarabeth wanted to kill him. She stood uncertain for a moment, then quickly gathered together the leather cross-garters he'd ripped from his shoes and tied his hands behind his back. Then she tied his ankles.

“Hurry!”

She stood over him for a moment, staring down at him. “He is mad, Ingunn.”