Defiant in the Viking's Bed

She paled a little more. ‘It means nothing, I swear it.’

‘It means you have been tricked, my lord, and easily too,’ said Hakke. ‘Still, you are not the first to fall for a pretty face and I don’t suppose you’ll be the last.’

Leif glared at him. ‘It’s a lie!’

‘And yet here we are.’

The outwardly pleasant tone belied the enormity that lay behind those words. It fuelled Leif’s anger. Such treachery was impossible, inconceivable. He looked again at Astrid.

She shook her head. ‘You mustn’t believe him, Leif.’

Hakke raised an eyebrow. ‘You are too modest, my lady. After all, it was your message that brought him here tonight.’

Her face went as white as bleached linen as the extent of the game became apparent and, along with that, her unwitting part in it. Her anguished gaze met Leif’s. In it she read anger and something frighteningly like doubt. Surely he couldn’t have swallowed those lies? He must know she would never have done such a thing; that they were using her for their own ends.

She shook her head. ‘That’s not—’

‘Not what he was expecting,’ interrupted Hakke.

Leif’s head thumped painfully. His mind was in turmoil, fighting against Hakke’s words. Astrid could not have done this. She wanted to leave; to escape an unwelcome marriage. There had to be another explanation.

‘Your presumption with regard to the Lady Astrid will be dealt with in due course,’ Hakke went on. ‘In the meantime, I have other bones to pick with you, my lord, beginning with the deaths of my brothers.’

‘They fell in battle,’ replied Leif, ‘and died with swords in their hands.’

‘They fell because of Halfdan Svarti’s greed. He wants Vingulmark and doesn’t care what he has to do to take it.’

‘Had you and your brothers not ambushed him and tried to kill him he might not have been so eager for that confrontation.’

‘We did but defend what was ours.’ Hakke’s eyes glinted. ‘Speaking of which, you have lately robbed me of my bride.’

‘The bride you kidnapped and intended to force into wedlock.’

‘Ragnhild was mine.’

‘Yet she was only too happy to be saved from that fate,’ said Leif.

Hakke’s gaze grew colder. ‘Nothing is going to save you from yours, I promise you.’

‘Then kill me and have done with it.’

‘I have no wish to kill you, my lord. Far from it. I wish you to live for a long time yet, and each day that you live you will think of me.’

The knot in Leif’s gut tightened. ‘What do you mean to do?’

‘I am delivering you into Jarl Einar’s safe keeping, as his bondsman.’

‘Never!’

‘Perhaps we need to put you in the right frame of mind for your new role.’ Hakke snapped his fingers. ‘Fetch the shears.’

A servant returned with the blades. They were the type kept for clipping sheep, sharp-edged and with wicked points. He handed them to one of the men standing guard over Leif. Hakke nodded.

‘Crop his hair in the manner befitting a slave.’

The words were greeted with a mocking cheer that drowned out Astrid’s cry of protest. In rage and desperation Leif fought his bonds but they yielded not a whit. Seconds later his captors flung him face down on the floor and a boot between his shoulders held him there. A large hand grabbed hold of his hair, yanking his head back. Then the shears went to work. By the time they had finished all that remained of the flowing mane was an inch of golden stubble. The audience thumped the table in approval.

Hakke nodded. ‘Now the collar.’

‘No!’ Again Astrid’s voice was drowned out. She tried to rise but a strong hand on her shoulder pulled her back again. Through welling tears she watched as the thick leather collar was fitted around Leif’s neck and riveted shut.

Hakke rose from his chair and strolled across to his prisoner. For a moment or two he surveyed him in silence. Then, unhurriedly, he threw back his cloak and reached for the coiled whip at his belt, shaking it free. The onlookers whistled and cheered.

Astrid turned to her uncle. ‘Stop this, I beg you.’

He eyed her coldly. ‘I’ll do no such thing. His punishment is more than merited. Besides, it will help you to understand what it means to cross me.’

The whip descended, leaving a bloody welt across Leif’s naked back. He writhed but made no sound. Astrid’s knuckles whitened.

Hakke delivered a dozen more strokes and then paused, surveying the man at his feet. ‘If it were solely up to me I’d flog you until your bones showed through your flesh,’ he said. ‘However, Jarl Einar wants you fit for work tomorrow.’ He cast the whip aside and looked at the waiting men. ‘Chain him in the kennel with the other dogs.’

They hauled Leif to his feet and dragged him from the hall. Astrid looked on, her face ashen. Jarl Einar turned to the man behind her chair.

‘Take her to the women’s bower and put a guard on the place.’ Then he looked coldly at his niece. ‘I’ll deal with you later.’

* * *

Leif’s captors shackled his ankle to a great wooden stake and then departed, locking the gate behind them. Several large hounds growled at him but he ignored them, gritting his teeth against the pain in his back and ribs. The bruises on his face were tender now, and one eye was half closed. Cold struck up from the earthen floor where the stench of hound vied with urine and faeces. For a while anger held it at bay but as time passed the chill grew more pronounced, along with a growing sense of dread as the true extent of his predicament hit home. His men would be concerned by now. They would likely guess where he’d gone and why, but, even suspecting something had gone wrong, they couldn’t do anything to help him. Their numbers were too few. The longer they delayed the more precarious their own position would become. When Steingrim found the hall and farm abandoned he’d head for the anchorage. The only sensible choice for Leif’s crew was to sail without him. That way they could escape the intended slaughter and go to Agder to raise the force they needed. Of course, that would take time. Mentally he visualised it all. It would take weeks, perhaps months, to organise, and that was before they liaised with Finn and Erik, always assuming Finn and Erik were successful in their mission. If not... Leif let out a ragged breath. He ran a hand across his shorn head, feeling congealed blood among the stubble. Anger surged and his fingers closed on the rim of the leather collar. Exerting all his strength, he tried to force the ends apart. The rivets held fast. Eventually, with a curse he gave it up.

It occurred to him then that this was just a taster of what his enemies had in store for him. In his mind he could hear Hakke’s mocking voice: I wish you to live for a long time yet, and each day that you live you will think of me. He would do all in his power to prevent any chance of rescue. Nor would it be too hard. Hakke still had numerous allies, men who would be only too pleased to witness the downfall of an enemy. All he had to do was to move his captive elsewhere and keep on moving him at regular intervals so that the trail grew cold and was lost. Leif felt a chill in the pit of his stomach and for the first time experienced something close to fear.

He closed his eyes and suppressed the emotion. It wouldn’t help him. He had to think. His enemies had set a clever trap, but to do it they had needed information. How had they got it? Astrid’s image loomed large at the forefront of memory. Only the two of them had been privy to his plans, unless she had told someone else. Had the scene in the hall been an act on her part? The thought of possible duplicity in her cut like a blade. You mustn’t believe him, Leif. As though in response he saw Hakke’s mocking smile. And yet here we are. Someone was lying and, like it or not, all the evidence appeared to be pointing one way. Doubt flickered into being. Leif’s jaw tightened. In that moment he knew that, no matter what it took or how long, he was going to discover the truth. And if Astrid had been complicit in this there was going to be a reckoning.

Chapter Seven

That night was the longest Astrid could ever remember. All she could think about was Leif, about his rage and pain, and his possible belief that she had been involved in the plot against him. Somehow she must show up the prince’s lies for what they were. In the meantime, Leif must be suffering physical and mental torment. Such a cruel and public humiliation smote at the heart of a man, especially one who was proud and strong. He would not take easily to his allotted role; he would have to be starved and beaten into it, diminished by slow degrees until he lost all will to fight and his spirit was broken. The very idea broke her heart too. Hakke’s revenge would not be swift, but it would be thorough.

Astrid shivered. Her mother’s brother, Jarl Einar, had been a shadowy figure in her life, more often spoken of than seen since he was often away, fighting in various wars. It wasn’t until after the deaths of her parents that he had come to play a larger role. She and her older sisters had been removed from their home and taken to his hall. Magda and Gunnhild were twins, then fifteen years old, and he lost no time in finding them husbands from among his political allies. Nor had he offered them any choice in the matter. Tears and pleas availed them nothing. Both were married off regardless, to older men whose first wives had died and who were certainly not averse to young and attractive replacements. Thirteen-year-old Astrid was alone.

‘You will make a better match than either of your sisters,’ Jarl Einar told her, ‘for you are prettier than they. When you are older I shall marry you to a prince or a king.’

A few weeks later he placed her in the care of his ally, Sigurd Hjort, where, under the tutelage of his lady, she would learn about wifely duty. It was there that she had met Ragnhild. The two had become fast friends. Being both beautiful and spirited, Ragnhild had had many admirers, among them Hakke of Vingulmark. When his suit was refused, he kidnapped her, thinking to wed her by force, only to be robbed of his prize. Leif had played a leading role in that episode. Now Hakke intended to make him pay. Astrid shivered. No matter what happened she must protect Leif. Protect him and help him escape.

* * *

It seemed that others had anticipated her thought. The following morning Jarl Einar sent one of his men to summon her to the hall. Astrid made no demur, being quite certain that her burly escort had been told to use force if necessary. Besides, she needed to find out what her uncle was planning. She might even get a glimpse of Leif. The thought filled her with hope and painful longing.

In the end it was a disappointed hope. There was no sign of Leif anywhere and she reached the hall a few minutes later. Save for a few servants, her uncle was alone. He watched in silence as she approached. Taking a deep breath Astrid looked him in the eye.