Sold To The Viking Warrior

‘Indeed.’

‘Ketil trusted my judgement. You should as well.’ Sigurd pointed his sword towards the sky for emphasis. As if on cue, the sun broke through the clouds and made it gleam. He could not have planned it better. ‘Without question.’

* * *

Liddy found the pace the Northmen used to travel across country was quick but not overly exhausting. The North language was fairly easy to understand and she was grateful that her father had made her learn it. She simply had to concentrate far more than she was used to.

The jibe about her warming Thorbin’s bed rankled. She had failed with Brandon. He had not even waited until the cockerel crowed after their wedding night to abandon her bed. And she knew she was no assassin who could seduce and then stick the knife in. But she had kept her face blank and trusted Sigurd would see the folly of such an action without her having to confess to her many failures.

* * *

‘How much about our leader do you know?’ the warrior who had challenged Sigurd asked in heavily accented Gaelic. One half of his face was covered in a network of scars. Scars on men were different from birthmarks. Scars meant battles fought and won, while a birthmark made people turn away.

‘I know Ketil has sent him,’ she replied, digging her chin into her shoulder. ‘He has promised to right the wrong which was done to my family. It seems the quickest way to achieve my goal.’

His smile made the scars on his cheeks seem more lurid. ‘But do you know why?’

‘I suspect he is a good enforcer. He moves like a true warrior. I understand the tribute was short and the last man who tried to enforce Ketil’s will ended up in a barrel.’

‘Yes, there were few volunteers for the job after that was made public. Sigurd was the only one who had the guts to put his name forward.’

‘Why are you here?’

‘Because I go where I am sent, but Sigurd wanted this.’ Hring nodded. ‘I, Hring Olafson, will tell you the tale. They are half-brothers—Thorbin and your warrior. Close until their father’s death from a cart accident, Thorbin caused Sigurd’s mother to be put to death and nearly killed Sigurd.’

Liddy missed her step. Sigurd’s earlier remark about his mother took on new significance. It was why he knew Thorbin was responsible for what had happened in that grove. He had waited for his revenge.

‘How did his mother die?’ she asked carefully in the North language.

‘Sigurd’s mother was supposed to burn to death as is our custom when a great lord dies. One of his women volunteers to join him in the afterlife. Always.’

‘Why did she do it?’

‘I heard it was to save Sigurd’s life after he attacked Thorbin. Thorbin inherited everything.’ Hring shook his head. ‘Thorbin lit the pyre, but an arrow arced from out of nowhere and killed her before the flames licked her feet.’

‘And Sigurd is supposed to have fired the arrow. Is that your point?’ Liddy said, staring at Sigurd’s broad shoulders. Knowing Thorbin’s reputation, she suspected he had deserved to be attacked. ‘How difficult. To be faced with a choice like that. Knowing that she had tried to save him.’

Hring grabbed her elbow. ‘That doesn’t bother you? He dishonoured the gods. Some might consider him cursed.’

Liddy touched her mark. Would this warrior think she had dishonoured the gods as well? ‘Do you?’

‘Lord Ketil knows what he is doing and I trust him. He chose Sigurd, but Thorbin makes sure the gods favour him and they have thus far. Luckiest bastard I have ever heard of.’

Not the words of endorsement for Sigurd Liddy had hoped to hear.

‘Everyone is defeated one day,’ she said more to calm her nerves than to Hring. ‘Sigurd will make Thorbin hold to Lord Ketil’s promise. He is Lord Ketil’s emissary.’

‘I like you, Lady Eilidith. You have faith. You are not worried about such things as curses.’

Hring clapped her hard on the back and Liddy stumbled, grazing her hands on the rough ground. She shook her head at Coll, who gave a low rumble in the back of his throat.

‘A problem?’ Sigurd asked, coming to stand beside her. ‘You tripped over that large stone, Eilidith. You should watch where you put your feet.’

Liddy wiped her hands on her cloak, shrugging off his steadying hand. She was doing it again—trying to see the best side of things. The sheer impossibility of what she was about to attempt swamped her and she wanted to sink down into a heap of tiredness and never get up. ‘Next time, I will pay more attention to where I put my feet.’

‘We can stop and rest,’ Hring suggested with a sly smile. ‘If this lady is the key which will open the locked door, we want her in the best condition.’

He gave her a look that suggested, even in her best condition, she’d have no hope of catching Thorbin’s eye.

Liddy straightened her cloak and tried to ignore the sinking in her heart. If they rested for too long, she’d miss her chance to petition Thorbin during the assembly day. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Look where you are stepping in the future.’ Sigurd turned back to his men. ‘We will get there, my lady, never fear. Even if I have to carry you. Hring the Grizzled, go bother someone else with your nonsense. The Lady Eilidith is safe with me.’

Hring immediately moved off.

‘Are you going to explain what that was about?’ he asked softly. ‘You should have informed me that you speak the North language.’

She shrugged. ‘The Northmen have lived here for most of my lifetime. Someone had to know what they were saying.’

‘And what was Hring saying?’

‘Hring saw fit to inform me of various rumours about your past. Apparently you dishonoured the gods and they will get their revenge whereas your half-brother always ensures that his doings find favour with the gods.’

Sigurd’s face became hardened planes. ‘The gods have more to worry about than mortal men and their deeds. I believe you are responsible for your own success or failure. If you believe in a curse, you are more likely to see things that way. My mother died free.’

‘I see.’ Liddy pressed her lips together to keep the truth about her curse from spilling out. Sigurd did not need to know about her dead children.

He shrugged, but a muscle jumped in his jaw. ‘I would have saved her if I could, but I was too late and could only ease her suffering. It was a long time ago, back in the North Country. Does it make a difference to what I will do? I think not.’

Liddy gestured with her hand. ‘Some of those women...back in the grove...did they suffer greatly?’

His eyes held a haunted quality. ‘It is far from an easy way to die. Not one I’d wish on anyone.’

‘But do you dishonour your gods by speaking this way?’

He gave a half-smile. ‘My god is my own business, but I haven’t followed my father’s religion since that time.’

Liddy wrapped her arms about her middle. He couldn’t be Christian. He wore long hair and was leading a pagan war band. And she had put her life in his hands. ‘Will you make sure that isn’t my fate?’

‘It won’t come to that.’

‘Even still...’

A muscle jumped in his jaw. ‘Stop worrying. Trust me. Your fate will be different.’

They arrived at a small knoll overlooking the fort just as the light turned to dark. Liddy was impressed that Sigurd had indeed known a quicker way.

His assessment proved correct. The fort’s gate was firmly shut with great ceremony as the last few rays flickered in the sky. The carts trundled out into the gloom. Liddy could hear various grumbles about the way the Northmen treated the Gaels, but not too loud and they were soon hushed.