Page 103 of Viking Warriors: Vol. 1-3
At least, that had been true before. If Eirik lived, as Ivar reported, and came for me, what then? Skálavík’s warriors would be watchful. They held the advantage. Even with Bjorgen men behind him, could Eirik hope to subdue Skálavík?
I feared he’d be walking into a trap.
Somehow, I had to warn him and all Svolvaen. If I could but find my way back, how much bloodshed would be avoided—for Svolvaen and Skálavík.
To wait was torture, but I knew that my only hope of slipping away would come while Eldberg slept. I’d dress as warmly as I could—a woolen gown over both my underdresses, my cloak from fox furs Eldberg had lately given me, and foot and leg coverings I’d sewn from the same.
Through the evening, I oft refilled Elberg’s cup, needing to be certain that he wouldn’t wake when I rose, and ensured his trencher was laden. With belly full of mead and victuals, he’d sleep most deeply.
He gave no indication of what he’d spoken of with Rangvald. Had I not overheard, I would’ve been none the wiser, though I felt his eyes upon me more than usual.
“Come, Elswyth, kiss me.” He drew me onto his lap and cared not who witnessed as he embraced me.
Even Sigrid seemed to accept his plans, allayed somewhat by the gifts he’d given her. Tonight, she wore a fur caplet over her gown. It occurred to me that she’d never married, running first her brother’s household and now Eldberg’s. Had she never wanted a man of her own? A family?
She’d had the care of Bretta, of course.
Eldberg whispered endearments to my ear. “Not long till the gods bless our wedlock, and I shall call you not just the woman I love but wife.” Though I was large in the belly, his arms still reached about me. He locked his fingers at the indentation of my waist and nuzzled his mouth to my neck.
“The rest shall be forgotten. There shall be only our pledge, forsaking all others.”
Had I not known all I did, I’d have thought him merely amorous, but I heard the double-edge of his words, for he believed Eirik alive, without intention of telling me. He would marry me without offering me the knowledge that would bring choice.
Despite his fine words, I was a prisoner still, for I wouldn’t be permitted to return to Svolvaen. There would be no question of that.
“Aye, my lord.” I touched the newly healing scars around his left eye, and those covering his cheek. “And both of us shall forgive—for naught good comes from twisting wounds, nor can love grow when we harbour deceit.”
His lips twitched, but he said nothing, merely bringing my palm to his lips.
It pained me to offer a lie, but it was no less than he deserved, and I tried not to think of the betrayal Eldberg would feel when he discovered me gone.
If Eirik came to Skálavík, Eldberg would finish what he’d begun and kill the man I loved. That I would not allow, not while I had strength to prevent it.
As the hour grew late and our guests’ heads nodded on their chests, I rose to speak to Thirka. Now Thoryn’s wife, she looked radiant, though she’d sat shyly beside him through the feasting. Having served in the longhouse so many years, it must seem strange to be there other than as a thrall. I wondered if her mind travelled to the night upon which the fire had leapt around her and near cost her everything.
“You’re happy, Thirka?” I squeezed her hand. “Thoryn is a considerate husband, and the healing continues well?”
“Oh yes, my lady.” She smiled, truly. “With much thanks to you.” She sighed. “I never thought to be so happy.”
“It brings me pleasure to hear it.” I drew her farther from the table, nodding to those who sat on either side.
“You wish the same contentment for me, I think.” I kept hold of her, ensuring she stood close.
“Of course.” She looked uncertain. “And you are so, I hope, now that the jarl is to marry you. ’Twas not easy, but…” Her voice trailed away.
What could she say on that subject? I’d been his slave and still was, but now he wished to call me wife. Thirka knew the truth of that as well as I.
“And you would help me, Thirka, if there was some small thing I asked?” I lowered my voice, for none other could hear what I wished to tell her—not yet at least.
“In whatever way I can.” She returned the pressure of my fingers.
My heart warmed. I’d no desire to imperil her, for even Thoryn would be unable to prevent Eldberg punishing Thirka if the jarl thought her complicit in my escape. But she would say whatever I asked, and willingly.
“Before I pledge myself to our jarl, there’s a cleansing ritual I want to perform. I need to go alone and wash my feet in the river.”
Thirka looked anxious. “But it’s so very cold, my lady.” She glanced down at my rounded belly. “And—”
“There’s nothing to worry about.” I tried to sound reassuring. “It’s the way we did things in Holtholm—where I lived before. It’s very… refreshing! And I’m hot all the time anyway with the baby growing. I’ll wrap warmly—and it’s just my feet. I’ll be in and out swiftly.”
