Surrender to the Viking

‘Yes, my lady.’

Lara smiled. ‘Go on, get along with you.’

Needing no further urging they ran off. As she watched their receding figures she shook her head feeling fairly certain that her warning would go unheeded. At the age of six Yngvi was proving to be a natural risk-taker, and where he led Drifa would follow.

She reached the weaving shed without further interruption and resumed work on the length of blue cloth she had started a few days earlier. As she did so, her mind went back to the days when she and Alrik and Asa had played tag together; happy, carefree days, and all too short. Let Yngvi and Drifa play while they could; they’d grow up soon enough. When she was a child she’d longed to be grown up. Everything had seemed so straightforward then: she would marry and have children and keep her husband’s house. It was what all girls did. Back then it had never occurred to her to question the matter. Now she knew better. Marriage was a trap and a handsome face was no guarantee of a good heart.

For no reason Jarl Finn drifted into her mind and lingered there. Reluctantly she was forced to admit that he was an imposing figure, no easier to banish mentally than he was to brush off physically. However, putting aside the ridiculous conversation they’d had together, she had been interested in the things he’d discussed with her father. While she knew about King Halfdan’s victory at the Battle of Eid, it was the first time she’d met anyone who’d actually been present. She’d have liked to ask Finn about it. That would have been a conversation worth having. She’d have liked to ask him about the kidnapping and subsequent rescue of Lady Ragnhild too. It sounded exciting, full of action and danger. It was also the stuff of romance.

Lara caught herself there. Romance was a notion for silly young girls who didn’t know any better. Nevertheless, the king must have cared very much if he was prepared to go to such lengths to get his lady back. Clearly he wasn’t the kind of man who dealt in mealy-mouthed flattery and trumpery gifts. Ragnhild was fortunate. Such men were rare. Most were strutting, vainglorious fools with no thought in their head beyond the winning of fame. Some were cruel to boot. To them a woman was a chattel to be used and abused. Asa’s husband had been proof of that.

Her sister had been a pawn in a deeper political game, married to seal a pact with former enemies. By the sound of it Jarl Finn had enemies, powerful ones too. Hall burning was a brutal form of revenge so it was fortunate that he and his kin had been warned in time. She couldn’t wish such a fate on anyone, not even on a man as annoying as he was. Happily he wouldn’t be around for much longer: once he’d got the extra swords he needed he’d be on his way.

* * *

With that happy outcome in mind Lara found it much easier to fulfil the obligations of hospitality that evening, plying the guests with mead and ale. Given the arrival of guests with no notice she’d been forced to improvise with the meal. It wasn’t exactly a banquet but at least there was enough food to go around. As she had anticipated her father would feast his guests properly on the morrow as hospitality required.

‘I’ve organised a hunt,’ he said. ‘Some of the men will go out first thing. A roast boar wouldn’t go amiss. Maybe even some venison.’

‘Either would be good,’ she replied.

‘You see to the rest.’

‘Of course. I’ve already spoken to the servants about extra bread and ale.’

‘I’ll say one thing for you, girl, you know how to keep house and provide a good spread.’

Well, yes. It’s what I’ve been trained to do from childhood. With an effort Lara clamped down on sarcasm and smiled instead. ‘Thank you, Father.’

He regarded her suspiciously, suspecting irony, but her expression was innocent so he grunted and held out his cup. She refilled it.

‘You should be putting those skills to use in your husband’s hall,’ he went on. ‘That’s the role you were intended for.’

‘In the meantime I am happy to practise here,’ she replied.

He snorted and turned away. Lara moved on.

‘Your father is right,’ said Finn as he held out his cup for a refill.

‘About what?’ she demanded.

‘The meal was excellent.’

The jug hovered a moment and she looked up quickly, undeceived by the bland tone. It wasn’t what he had meant at all but it was safer if she pretended to believe him. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it, my lord.’

‘Clearly you are a good organiser.’

‘Women are trained to be good organisers.’

‘I suppose they are. Even so, twenty extra mouths to feed is quite a task.’

This was a first. ‘Men don’t usually consider such things. They seem to assume that food will magically appear at the given time. Then they eat and think no more of it until the next meal is due.’

He laughed. ‘There is some justice in what you say, although, having been responsible for a ship’s crew, I have learned about the importance of provisions.’

Her surprise increased. Not a complete fool, then. ‘Yes, I imagine you have.’

‘I enjoy my food as much as the next man. Besides, a well-fed crew complains less.’

‘So the way to their hearts really is through their stomachs.’

‘Battle loot plays its part as well.’

Lara’s expression altered. This was more like it. Now she had the opening she’d been hoping for. ‘You were at Eid, weren’t you?’

‘That’s right. How did you know?’

‘I heard you speaking to my father.’

His eyes gleamed. ‘Were you eavesdropping?’

‘Of course. It was an interesting conversation.’

She looked quite unabashed by the admission. Finn’s lips twitched. ‘Battle might be deemed an unfit topic for the ears of a woman.’

‘Why should it?’

‘Because it’s brutal and bloody. A pretty woman should think of other things.’

She sighed. ‘Like necklaces of amber beads and gold brooches perhaps? Or maybe flirtation and romance?’

‘Isn’t that what young women usually think about?’

Lara was silent, wrestling with irritation and disappointment. For a moment she’d really thought he might be different from the others. She looked away. ‘Excuse me for asking an inappropriate question. It’s just that I was hoping for an intelligent answer. I should have known better.’

* * *

As Finn watched her walk off, he uttered a soft laugh that was compounded of disbelief and annoyance, the latter directed inwards. He hadn’t missed the sudden eagerness in her eyes when she asked him about Eid. If he hadn’t antagonised her, she might have let down her guard and they could have had a lively and interesting discussion. Instead he’d spoken without thinking and the barriers had come up at once. He was the one who should have known better. Had experience taught him nothing?

‘Pretty girl,’ said Unnr.

Finn glanced up and nodded. ‘As you say.’

‘Difficult, though. Redheads always are.’

‘So I’m told.’ Difficult was an understatement, thought Finn. Volatile was closer to the truth. When that was allied to a keen intelligence and a ready wit, it made for a challenging combination. Challenging and intriguing.

‘Take a bold man to tame that one,’ Unnr went on. ‘My oldest brother, Sveinn, married a redhead. Lovely to look at but a temper like a fiend when roused.’

Sturla frowned. ‘Regretted the match, did he?’

‘Certainly not. Sveinn loves a challenge—always did. A timid sort of woman would never have suited him.’

‘Each to his own.’

‘I’m with Sveinn,’ said Vigdis, who, like several others, had been listening with close attention. ‘A spirited woman has to make for a more interesting relationship.’

Murmurs of agreement greeted this.

Thus encouraged Unnr continued, ‘That’s right. Sveinn had fancied Halla from the start, see, because she was a real looker, but it wasn’t till she went for him with an axe that he really understood the depth of his feelings.’

Vigdis nodded. ‘I can see how something like that could help you make up your mind.’

‘It did. He fell head over heels in love.’

‘So he told her right away, then?’

‘Not quite. It wasn’t until he’d wrestled her to the ground and taken the axe away that he finally managed to convince her. Anyway, they made up the quarrel and married the following week. They’ve got five sons now.’

Ketill shook his head in admiration. ‘Your brother sounds like quite a romantic.’

His companions nodded.

‘I think he is,’ replied Unnr, ‘though of course he’d never admit it.’

‘Action speaks louder than words, eh?’

‘Correct. And love’s a funny thing. Take my cousin Snorri for instance...’

* * *

As the others pressed closer to listen Finn detached himself from the group and moved aside. The conversation had taken an unexpected turn, evoking memories that he’d have preferred to leave alone. Unnr was right though: love was a strange thing. It entered in by the eyes and embedded itself in the heart. Its removal left a wound that never healed. Betrayal was always ugly no matter what form it took. Unnr’s brother was lucky in his choice of wife: evidently deception was not part of her nature. A man knew exactly what to expect from an axe. Moreover, he could see it coming. He didn’t know about betrayal until it was too late.

He should have read the signs, but he’d been so besotted with Bótey that he’d been blind. When he’d finally understood how blind, love had given way to jealousy and killing rage. She knew what his reaction would be and sought to put as much distance between them as possible. Not enough distance though, not nearly enough. He’d caught up eventually. Slaying his rival was a matter of natural justice, an act for which none would condemn him. A man must defend his rights and avenge himself on those who wronged him. That was the way of things. He had no qualms about killing his wife’s lover. It was what followed that sickened him and for that, in his own mind at least, he would stand forever condemned.

* * *

He and his men slept in the hall that night, or rather his men slept and soundly too. Finn found it much harder. His mind was too busy, not least with concerns about the immediate future. If he didn’t take care of Steingrim it was over. He and his men would be hunted down and slain. The mercenary force wouldn’t give up until that was accomplished. However, Finn had no intention of allowing them to keep the advantage. When he had the extra swords he needed the fight would be taken to his enemies, and when they least expected it. We’ll choose our own ground. Leif was right about that. He wondered how his brother was faring and whether he’d got his woman away safely. Presumably he had: once Leif had a goal in mind he invariably achieved it no matter who tried to stop him. Anyway, Astrid was a pretty girl.

Finn acknowledged the fact even though he felt dispassionate about it. His taste ran more towards dark hair, dark or deep red. For a moment Lara’s face floated into his thoughts. It was remarkable that she was still unmarried at eighteen. She could not have lacked for suitors. Surely among their number had been those who were not deterred by the kind of challenge she represented; any red-blooded man in fact. It suggested that Lara must have rejected them. Had she used an axe? He smiled to himself. It wasn’t hard to visualise such a scenario. The fey didn’t seem to like men very much. She certainly didn’t like him. There were admittedly some grounds for her dislike, but it didn’t explain her antipathy for the male sex as a whole, and that made him curious.

When his marriage ended it had been a while before he’d embarked on any kind of sexual adventure. At first it was the sort a man paid for; uncomplicated and mutually beneficial. Later there were longer liaisons with palace courtesans; more complicated and more expensive but more enjoyable too, while they lasted. He was all in favour of the giving and taking of pleasure and was generous when it came to rewarding the objects of his attention, but he never offered more than that. His terms were made clear at the outset. That way there could be no misunderstandings and no one got hurt.

Had Lara suffered a disappointment? Was her manner a defence against being hurt again? He didn’t know why his thoughts should keep coming back to her. He regretted his thoughtless words earlier: they had cost him an entertaining discussion. All conversations with her were entertaining. He had never met a woman who challenged his opinions before, or who held her own in argument with such accomplished ease, making him think on his feet. She made no attempt to flirt either and clearly resented it when he did. That too was novel. Women invariably enjoyed flirting with him. Some went out of their way to do so and the invitation they extended was blatant. Usually he was happy to oblige them with an hour of his time. He couldn’t imagine Lara seeking five minutes alone with him, never mind an hour. Probably it was just as well. There was no question of any dalliance with her, even if she had been so inclined. To take advantage of his host’s goodwill in that way was dishonourable. It would also jeopardise his mission here and that would be foolhardy in the extreme.

All the same Lara roused his curiosity. If he were honest she aroused rather more than that. Vigdis was right: a spirited woman was infinitely more interesting than a timid one. Finn smiled to himself. Had she been a lady of the court he’d have taken up the challenge she represented: in his experience every woman could be wooed and won; every rebel conquered—eventually.

Chapter Three

Somewhere amid these thoughts he dozed off and eventually slept until dawn. Around him his sword brothers snored on. Wanting to stretch his limbs he rose quietly, taking care not to disturb his companions, and slipped out of a side door. The morning smelled of dew and damp earth. It had rained in the night but the clouds had passed over and the new day looked promising. That was just as well when there was so much to be done. He was mentally listing it all when he glimpsed movement out of the corner of his eye.

Automatically he whipped round, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword. He wouldn’t put it past Steingrim to sneak up on his foes as they slept. However, far from being the enemy’s bulky form, the figure was slight and female. A proper look revealed her identity. He relaxed. She hadn’t noticed him at all and was heading away from the buildings along a track that led towards the trees. For a second he hesitated, debating with himself. Then curiosity won.

* * *

Lara reached the promontory a few minutes later and, having divested herself of the cloak, drew the sword from its scabbard and began to warm up as Alrik had taught her. Then, closing her mind to everything else, she went through the drills, slowly at first, letting each movement flow into the next, then faster until the blade became almost invisible and the air hissed with its passing. Left, right, thrust, parry...left, right, block, feint, turn... Suddenly she froze, seeing the still figure just yards away at the edge of the trees. Shock was swiftly replaced by a range of uncomfortable emotions.

Jarl Finn! How in Hel’s name had he found out? He must be enjoying the discovery enormously. No doubt the tale would be all over the steading by midday. She’d be a laughing stock. Her father would be furious...

Finn pushed his shoulders away from the tree he’d been leaning on, and strolled towards her. Lara lifted the sword, strongly tempted to run him through. It wouldn’t be easy because he was armed, trained, battle-hardened and much bigger. All the same she’d be willing to try. He halted a few feet away. She glared at him, bracing herself for mockery.

‘Not bad,’ he said, ‘but you need to raise your elbow a little higher when you parry.’

Lara blinked. ‘My elbow?’

‘Yes, like this.’ He drew his sword and demonstrated. ‘It prevents your enemy from delivering a downward stroke to your shoulder, you see.’

‘Oh.’

He demonstrated once more. ‘Now you try.’

Gathering her wits she resumed her stance and tried to copy him. It wasn’t quite as easy as he made it look. He stepped behind her, placing a hand under her elbow. ‘There.’ The hand moved on and his fingers closed around hers, the touch warm and strong. ‘Now, turn your wrist a little.’ His grip tightened just a fraction. It didn’t hurt in the least but her arm had no choice save to move as he dictated. Retaining his hold he took her through the manoeuvre again. Lara tried to focus on the sword, not on the man who was now standing so close to her. Gods, he was big, and disconcertingly strong with it. Had she really been mad enough to contemplate taking him on? He’d have snapped her like a twig.

‘That’s it.’ Finn released his hold. ‘Now run through that sequence again.’

He stepped away to give her space. She hesitated, torn between annoyance at the commanding tone and a wish to improve. His gaze met and held hers. One eyebrow lifted a little. The challenge was plain. Lara’s chin came up at once. Assuming the correct stance, she began to repeat the moves, aware all the time of the man looking on and the cool grey eyes that missed nothing.

‘Better,’ he said. ‘Again.’

She took a deep breath and took a firm hold of the hilt. You can do this. You want to do this. This time she made herself concentrate, performing the sequence once more.

‘Keep your body sideways to your opponent. You haven’t got a shield, remember, so you need to reduce the size of the target.’

Of course. Why didn’t I think of that? Lara adjusted her position and then repeated the exercise. He watched critically, commenting on each move, instructing, encouraging and even offering an occasional word of praise. Nor could she detect anything remotely patronising in his manner. It was quiet and businesslike, requiring the like response from her. Gradually she began to relax a little and to enjoy herself. It was fun and she’d learned more in the past half an hour than in the previous three months. Knowing the basics was one thing but this had just taken the art of sword craft to a whole new level. She listened attentively now, obedient to his every command, understanding the reasons for what he was saying.

It was tempting to stay and continue for a while but the sun was above the hills now and a new day beginning. Reluctantly Lara lowered her sword.

‘Is something wrong?’ he asked.

‘No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just that I have to get back. People will be stirring soon, if they aren’t already.’

‘You’re right. I’d lost track of time.’

‘I also.’

He watched her sheathe the sword. ‘Who taught you to fight?’

‘My brother, Alrik.’

‘How long have you been practising?’

‘About three months or so.’

‘Not so long, then.’

‘That must be obvious to you.’

‘Yes, it is,’ he replied, ‘but Miklagard wasn’t built in a day. You’ve made progress but you need more practice.’

She nodded, glad that he hadn’t lied to flatter her and encouraged that he should think she had improved if only a little. ‘I’ll persevere.’

‘Good.’

Lara retrieved her cloak and used it to swathe the sword before tucking it under her arm. ‘I must go.’

‘And I need to go to the landing and visit my ship.’

‘Are you afraid something may have happened to it in the night?’

The grey gaze cooled. ‘My men and I are being pursued by a large mercenary force. I take nothing for granted.’

She bit her lip. ‘Forgive me. I’d forgotten about that.’

‘When you’re dealing with an enemy like Steingrim the day you become complacent is the day you die.’

Lara was silent, mentally berating herself. Idiot! Now he’ll think you’re an empty-headed little fool. Up until an hour ago she wouldn’t have given a sheep dropping for his opinion, but now somehow it mattered.

‘I beg your pardon, my lord. You speak from experience that I do not have.’

The tone was unwontedly humble and for a moment his eyes registered surprise.

‘As you say.’

With that he bowed and walked away. She watched the retreating figure for a moment or two and then hurried after him.

‘Jarl Finn?’

He looked round, surveying her steadily. ‘Lady?’

‘Thank you for your help this morning.’

The tone was sincere, unexpectedly so. He was about to make an appropriate reply but she was away, running off down the track towards the steading. He watched her go and then followed, albeit at a more relaxed pace. When she reached the fork in the path she slowed and stopped, hesitating for a moment. Finn stopped too, waiting. Would she or wouldn’t she? Lara took another step and then another. He sighed. She checked again and then darted a glance over her shoulder. For a second or two her gaze met his then she was off again. Moments later she was lost to view. Finn smiled to himself and continued on his way towards the landing.

* * *

The ship was fine and the guards on duty reported no sighting of an enemy craft. Finn relaxed a little. For the time being at least it looked as though they had shaken Steingrim off their trail. Next time they met it would be when Finn chose and he’d have the warriors to end it once and for all. Today he would settle the details with Jarl Ottar. Tonight’s feast would seal the agreement.

As he strolled back to the steading to speak to his host, Finn let his mind drift to his recent encounter with Lara. When he’d decided to follow her he’d no idea what his decision might lead to. He hadn’t expected to be so thoroughly entertained or, he admitted, so impressed. Her brother had taught her well and she’d evidently taken the lessons seriously. He hadn’t lied when he’d told her she’d made progress. However, he’d been very careful to avoid any suggestion of flattery or flirtation, adopting the tone he might have used with his men. It was the right strategy, although he hadn’t been entirely sure of that at first. He hadn’t missed her initial hesitation but, as he’d hoped, her eagerness to learn had overcome natural caution. She was a quick learner too. He had but to tell her something once for her to remember it. If she’d had someone to practise with she’d have been even further ahead by now.

He shook his head, not quite able to believe he’d been complicit in this. Her father certainly wouldn’t approve if he knew. As far as he was concerned the roles of the sexes were quite clear. Finn had to admit that he found it utterly incongruous to see a pretty girl wielding a sword. And Lara was a very pretty girl: small, slender, fine-boned—exquisite. The very idea of her in combat was ludicrous. It offended every masculine notion of what was acceptable. However, the early morning practices were harmless enough, providing an outlet for a rebellious spirit. Besides, in some measure, she had given him her trust and he would not betray it. In any case he wasn’t going to be around for very long.

* * *

As he’d anticipated Jarl Ottar was keen to speak to him and later that morning the two men adjourned to a quiet corner where they could speak privately. Finn sat down and waited for his host to open the conversation.

‘I have thought on the matter we discussed before,’ said Ottar. ‘I will supply you with a warship and the crew to man her. My brother, Njall, will provide another.’

Finn was momentarily incredulous. Two big warships would carry a hundred and sixty men. When combined with his own he’d have more than enough to defeat Steingrim.

‘That is generous, my lord.’

‘In addition I will ensure that each ship is well provisioned and her crew armed for the task.’

‘I thank you.’ The cost of provisioning a warship was considerable, never mind two. It was far more than Finn had been expecting. He was grateful too but such munificence came at a price. Clearly Ottar was expecting something considerable in return.

‘It will take a little while to organise this, of course,’ the jarl went on, ‘but not too long, I hope.’

‘In the meantime I will head down the coast to my estate at Ravndal. Our continued presence here will not go unremarked and eventually Steingrim will learn of it. I’ll not risk subjecting this steading to an attack.’