Taken by the Viking
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Annis knew she should wait until the Vikens departed, but the promise preyed on her. If she went to the back of the pigsty, no one would see her. She could rescue Mildreth and none would be the wiser.
She shielded her eyes and peered down at the boats again. The departure preparations continued a pace. Most of the Viken warriors would be there, not in the town, and the pigsty was situated by the kitchens. There was nothing for them there. No gold. No jewels. No books to burn, just the midden heap.
Her stomach clenched. She had to go. She had a duty to Mildreth.
Haakon’s word rang loudly in her ears. She was safe here. She would come to no harm if she stayed still.
But what if he changed his mind? What if he returned for her? Could she really trust such a man? A heathen warlord?
She was not safe as long he knew where to find her. She had to leave.
First, she’d find her maid and fulfil her promise. She had never knowingly broken a promise to her maidservants in her life and she did not intend to begin now.
She would go as far as the pigsty and no farther. Mildreth had to be there. These Norsemen would be much more interested in plundering the treasury of one of the wealthiest monasteries in the Christendom than capturing reluctant pigs. They would be safe and could wait without fear of discovery.
Annis shuddered to think how many Northumbrian and Mercian families faced ruin because of today’s work. How many had thought their treasure would be safe in the hands of the monks, as who would risk eternal damnation?
The sky was thick black with smoke and it appeared closer to midnight than midday. Annis picked her way down the hill, back into the carnage. St Cuthbert’s church glowed orange. As she watched, a huge timber crashed on the centre aisle, sending a shower of sparks into the sky.
She stumbled and fell, knees first, into a puddle. Her hand closed around a small silver cross that lay in the shallow pool of mud. She tucked it into her belt next to her dagger. It had been a gift to her from her mother. Mildreth must have taken it with her when she ran and then dropped it in her confusion. It had to be a portent that she would find the maid safe and well. When she returned to Birdoswald, she would tell her mother the story. And they’d laugh together, agreeing it was indeed Providence that allowed her to find it.
Annis pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling the sting of smoke. She blinked back the tears. There was little point in thinking about what would happen when she got back to the mainland. She had to survive first.
She took three more breaths, waiting, but the Norseman had disappeared and no one appeared to be paying her any attention. In fact, no one was around her at all.
Annis straightened her gown. She gave a half-smile at the gesture. The dark green wool already bore too many stains and was ruined beyond repair. It was incredible that she should even think about her clothes. Even now, her nurse’s many admonitions about how she had to behave—the proper Northumbrian lady, rather than a serf’s daughter—guided her.
It was time. She had to move or for ever be a captive.
She slunk back into the shadows and started to edge her way along the side of a stone building. The smoke was thicker and even the stones radiated heat.
Miraculously no one challenged her and she soon made her way to the outbuildings. The fence was broken and the pigs had vanished, leaving trampled earth as a sign of their escape.
‘Mildreth?’ she called softly. ‘It is Annis, your mistress. I am here. I have kept my promise.’
No answer. It was quiet, an all-enveloping quietness. So very different from the noise and confusion of the courtyard.
Annis concentrated her whole being, straining to hear the slightest noise. Mildreth had to be here. She had to have escaped. Surely God meant for them to escape. He had delivered them from the beast.
Then she saw the problem—the roof of the sty smouldered. Mildreth, if she made it this far, must have found a new place of refuge. But where? There had to be somewhere close. But could she afford to search for her? Annis, hating herself, decided no. She had to trust Mildreth would make it through and they would be reunited on the mainland.
She started to turn, but her eye was caught by a piece of light russet material in the corner of the sty. She put her hand to her mouth to stifle a scream and struggled to keep her balance.
Mildreth, Mildreth’s body, trapped under a timber.
Annis hurried over. Her hand touched Mildreth’s neck, but already the flesh cooled and her eyes stared up unseeing. All the air vanished from Annis’s lungs. She crossed her hands about her chest and rocked back and forth, struggling as her mind recoiled from the sight in front of her.
‘No!’ was torn from the depths of her soul as she tried to focus, tried to think. How long she stood there she didn’t know, but gradually she realised she had to go. The fire had taken hold, jumping and crackling all around her. But it was impossible to leave Mildreth like this, face, unseeing, turned to the sky.
Annis closed Mildreth’s eyes and whispered the last rites. There would be no way of knowing if Mildreth understood, but Annis fancied the body looked more peaceful. Then she placed a kiss on Mildreth’s brow and stood up, wiping her hands against her gown.
Later, when she had time, she’d come back and make sure she was properly buried. She would also seek out Mildreth’s relations and let them know what happened.
Annis’s mouth twisted. So many wrongs to right. She had to get across the causeway, in safety. She would return to her former look-out, see if the ships had departed.
She covered her mouth and nose with the sleeve of her gown as the smoke began billowing again and the heat of the fire beat against her face.
In the semi-darkness, she stumbled, trying to keep to the shadows. She went first one way, realised she was lost, started heading the other as the stinging smoke blinded her.
She ran into what seemed like a wall, bounced off and started to run. A hand reached out and grabbed her arm.
He said something in their barbaric tongue.
‘You had what you came for. There is nothing for you here,’ Annis said, forcing her voice to remain firm. ‘Leave this place immediately.’
The man paused and his grip eased. Annis risked a glimpse upwards. He appeared younger than Haakon, but had a look of him. He was regarding her with a quizzical expression.
She pulled her arm away and drew herself to her full height.
‘Go. Now.’ She pointed vaguely in the direction she had come from and hoped.
He started to go, a puzzled expression on his face.
Annis released a breath and willed him to step away farther. But he turned and placed a pinching grip on her shoulder. His face broke into a wide smile as he drew her closer.
Chapter Three
‘Haakon Haroldson!’ The scream welled up from within Annis as she fought against the hands. Haakon had warned her such things might happen, but she had chosen to ignore it. She should have listened. She was furious with her attacker and more furious with herself. She had thought she was doing the right thing, but she had blundered. It was too late for regrets.
The warrior grabbed her hair and twisted it around his hand, hurting her, imprisoning her. A sword gleamed in his other hand. Her heart stopped. Her limbs froze.
A nightmare. Worse than a nightmare as she was awake. She had had a chance to escape and had thrown it away on nothing. The thought tasted bitter.
Annis felt her body begin to sag. She forced it straight. She hadn’t survived all that had gone before simply to die at this man’s hands.
She kicked out with her boot and landed a blow on his shin, heard a muttered curse and his grasp on her hair loosened. With her hand she yanked the few remaining strands free. The warrior raised his hand. Annis ducked, whispered a prayer and prepared to flee.
Suddenly the young warrior was hurled backwards, and Haakon appeared, his face black like a thundercloud.
‘Has he harmed you?’ he demanded as he placed a gentle hand under her arm.
‘No, no. I am unhurt.’ She shook her head as her limbs began to tremble, to shake uncontrollably. She wrapped her arms about her waist but still the shivers kept on coming.
Haakon’s eyes were like daggers, and he once again wore his helmet. Gone was the man who released her and in his place was the warlord she had first glimpsed.
Annis swallowed, forced her limbs to stay still as a wave of exhaustion hit. She wanted to sink to the ground and never get up. This nightmare had to end. She had to wake. Her life wasn’t supposed to be like this. She had had it orderly, planned, and now there was nothing left. Nothing.
Another wave of aching tiredness washed through her body, leaving behind it a numbing cold. Later she’d think about the horror that happened here, but now all she wanted it to do was end. Her eyelids became heavier than lead and started to close. She sank down in the dirt, resting her chin against her knees, her back against his legs. She no longer cared. This man had kept her safe before.
Haakon resisted the urge to shake the woman and force her to stand.
He had shown her to a safe place, left her there. All she had to do was to wait until the Viken had gone and she could have returned to her people with nothing worse than a bad fright. But she had ignored him and had returned to the monastery. It was only Odin’s luck that he had chanced upon Thrand and her before anything had happened to her.
Surely the woman had realised the danger she was in. His men had little regard for the women. Some of the men would make good captives, but the women they just used and discarded.
‘The woman is under my protection, Thrand,’ Haakon said as he shifted so that she was firmly against his legs. ‘And I have no wish to send you to Valhalla before your time.’
‘Your protection?’ His brother gave a shrug and fingered his jaw. ‘I found her wandering on her own. You should look after your women better.’
‘Ivar said you were in trouble.’ Haakon put his hands on his hips, allowed the remark to pass and feigned ignorance at the jibe his half-brother was trying to make. ‘He feared you would need a steadying hand.’
‘Nothing I could not handle. A Northumbrian monk objected to being taken prisoner.’ Thrand bent down and picked up his sword. ‘Next time, keep a better eye on your captives. There are many about with the blood-lust running high.’
‘How many have we lost? I know about the beach, but here in the monastery?’ Haakon ran a hand through his hair. In a battle such as this one, he would expect to see many men go to Valhalla. Without a doubt, the hardest thing he would have to do would be to inform their wives, sweethearts and families when they returned to Viken, so a rune stone could be raised to them.
‘A few cuts and bruises. Perhaps six seriously injured.’ Thrand stopped, brows coming together in concentration. ‘Bjorn is missing, but you know how he behaves when the blood madness is on him. You are the only who he respects. He will appear before the gold is fully loaded, no doubt laden with treasure and his axe dripping with blood. By all the gods, this raid has been a success.’
‘Bjorn is dead.’ Haakon dropped his arms and dared Thrand to question him.
‘Dead? How? These are no warriors! A boy with a wooden sword shows more fight.’ Thrand’s eyes widened. ‘Bjorn was a match for any man. And have you forgotten what the soothsayer said—no man can kill him?’
‘I had forgotten the prophecy when he attacked me. The blood-lust was such that he did not recognise me. We encountered each other in the guest house, and I declined to visit Valhalla, even for him.’
Thrand let out a low whistle. ‘And to think you were the one who argued that he must join this voyage. He belongs to a powerful clan.’
Haakon glanced down at the woman. She had her head tilted to one side and her brow was wrinkled as if she was trying to follow the exchange. Her dark hair curled about her temples and her dress bore the stains of the fight. But he refused to tell Thrand the truth. He had given his oath. There were many who would demand the woman’s life as penalty for killing a berserker. But Haakon owed her his life. And he would keep her safe—whether she wanted to be or not.
‘Then let them challenge me. I have my sword.’ Haakon put his hand on his sword belt.
Thrand held his hands up. ‘Your prowess as a swordsman is well known and there are legends about your sword, Leg-biter.’
‘Leg-biter has served me well.’
‘You do realise that the tales will only intensify now that you have slain Bjorn although the wergild will be great.’
Haakon allowed his brother’s words to wash over him as he studied the woman before him.
What would Thrand say if he knew the truth? Would he offer up the woman to appease Bjorn’s powerful relations?
‘I was too busy defending my own skin to think on the amount I will owe Bjorn’s family. Or what his friends might do to me afterwards. I do not believe he gave much thought to the amount he’d owe you or our mother.’
‘I would ask much for you, my brother. You have done much for the family.’ Thrand gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. ‘I for one am pleased you killed Bjorn. If the family dislikes what you offer, they can always appeal to Thorkell. He should do something for his kingship besides receive a portion of our goods.’
The words were lightly said, but an uneasy feeling passed over Haakon. An unease that he instantly dismissed as tiredness. He trusted his half-brother with his life.
‘No doubt you are correct, Thrand.’ Haakon leant forward. ‘I never forget my obligations.’
Thrand flushed. ‘And the woman. What will you do with her? You never answered. There will be some who wish to dispute your claim, particularly if she is discovered on her own again. You are lucky it was me and not another member of the felag.’
Haakon frowned as he regarded where the woman crouched at his feet. She had not moved since he had hit Thrand.
He had thought to leave her, safe and unharmed, by the rocks, her presence undetected by the rest of the Vikens. But Thrand had seen her, heard her speak in Latin. Thrand was not stupid. He would reach the same conclusion that Haakon had—this woman was high born and potentially worth a great deal of money. In this state, she would be prey for all the men.
It was a total victory for the men of Viken. His mouth twisted. A lone woman would be subjected to untold dangers. He would not do that even to his worst enemy. And this woman he had sworn to protect. No, she would have to come under his direct guard, and when they returned to Viken, he’d use his contacts with the court of Charlemagne and the Holy Roman Empire to send a ransom message to her family.
‘It is for me to decide. She belongs to me now.’
‘I apologise again, Haakon.’ Thrand made a bow. ‘I had no idea whom she belonged to.’
‘You know now. And by the blood that we share, I challenge you to remember it. Do not covet those things that are mine.’
‘I never have. Do not burden me with my mother’s ambition.’
Thrand stiffened and stalked off towards the boats.
Haakon allowed him to walk away before he turned his attention to the woman, who had not moved from the spot on the ground. He reached forward and twitched the dagger from her belt. ‘Mine, I believe.’
She struggled to an upright position and her eyes blazed. Her hand made an ineffectual grab at the blade, but Haakon calmly tucked it into his belt.
‘What right have you? Give it back!’
‘I told you that you would be safe if you stayed by the rocks. You chose to disobey me.’
‘I had to find my maidservant….’ She pushed her wild brown hair out of her eyes and held out her hands, beseeching him. ‘You remember the woman who tripped you.’
‘And did you find her?’ Haakon allowed no softness to enter his voice. ‘Where is she? Or has she been carried off by another?’
‘She’s dead.’ A look of immense pain and sorrow crossed her face. ‘The pigsty’s roof collapsed on her.’
‘I am sorry.’
‘I told her to hide there. That she would be safe. And she wasn’t…It was a mistake to come here, but I had to do my duty.’ She put her hands on her face. ‘Do you understand that? Will you let me go—as you did before?’
Haakon resisted the urge to sweep her into his arms.
‘You are my captive now. Lindisfarne is not safe for you. It is not safe for anyone.’
She made no move, but simply stood looking at him. Her eyes wore a haunted expression. Despite the warm air, she shivered slightly, her body convulsing. Her lips held a bluish tinge, but she kept her body erect and did not collapse into a ball again.
Haakon undid his cloak and put it around her shoulders, fastening the trefoil brooch under her chin.
The heavy weight of the cloak pinned Annis down. She wanted to fling it off and run, but her encounter with the other warrior had made her wary. The cloak retained the warmth from his body. The heat rose, enveloping her, reminding her of the kiss they had shared earlier. His not-unpleasant scent filled her nostrils, surrounding her. Somehow, it felt intimate in a way she had not felt before. Her late husband would never have offered her his cloak.
Her hands fumbled with the catch. She had to give it back. She had no right to wear it. The brooch pricked her finger and she brought it to her mouth with a sudden exclamation of pain.
‘Leave it on.’ Haakon’s voice allowed for no refusal.
What was she exactly? Captives were not given cloaks. She had glimpsed the groups of dispirited monks tied together. Her hands were free. There had been no humiliation…yet. She allowed her hands to fall to her sides.
‘You wear a determined look on your face, Valkyrie.’
‘Everything is going up in flames. I am a prisoner,’ she said as a group of Norse warriors sauntered passed, carrying chalices, the remains of crosses and several bottles of mead. ‘My life. My world. Nothing will ever be the same again.’
‘The world constantly changes.’ Haakon placed his hands on her shoulders. ‘But you live. You will see the sun rise and set again.’
Annis knew she should pull away, but her body refused to move. In this unrecognisable world, Haakon represented something safe and solid. The warmth from his hands flooded through her body. His face was so close, if she lifted her lips but a fraction, she knew they would brush his. She closed her eyes, savouring the sensation. She longed to lay her head against his chest. Did it make her wicked? Her head pained her.
Then she forced her eyes open and stepped backwards. Her fingers worked the catch and the cloak fell away from her shoulders.
‘I will be warm enough.’ Annis kept her head proud and erect, met Haakon’s eye. ‘You will need it.’
‘The cloak stays about your shoulder. It shows others in the felag whom you belong to. You will be unmolested both here and on the boat. I have no wish to rescue you another time.’
A shiver went through Annis. Belong to? Her mind had tried to avoid the word, but he had uttered it. She was his captive, his slave. Why had she saved his life? Surely it would have been better if she had escaped while he fought the beast. A little voice nagged at the back her mind—but look what happened to Mildreth. Do you wish to share her fate? And she knew that she wanted to live.
‘I don’t understand these words you use,’ she said to distract her thoughts away from her captivity. If she could keep him talking, then maybe she could figure out a way to escape. ‘Felag—it means nothing to me.’
‘Many of your words were foreign when I first began trading.’ A slight smile came on his lips. ‘You have yet to give me a name. Or shall I choose one for you? I knew you were high born from the instant you spoke in the upstairs room. What serf’s daughter has Latin falling so readily off her tongue?’
Annis glanced down at the dirt. Her throat closed. She had no wish to lose her name. ‘Annis,’ she whispered. ‘Annis of Birdoswald, near the River Irthing. My father was the Eorl of Birdoswald.’
‘When it is safe, I will inform your people where you are, Annis of Birdoswald.’
Annis clenched her fists so tight they hurt. She knew what letting her people know meant. Haakon would ask for a ransom.
‘When will you let them know?’ There was nothing she could do about the demand. It happened in war. Selwyn had been ransomed twice—from a Scot’s cave and later from Mercia. It was expected. But much of her family’s wealth was in the chests that the Norsemen now piled up.
Would they ransom her or would her family simply see it as a judgement from God? Her stepfather might use her capture as the final excuse he needed to secure Birdoswald for himself. But there again, he might retain a vestige of honour and duty.
‘In good time, and from a position of strength.’ His face was hard, and his eyes fierce.
Annis nodded. The raiders would not stay here. There were too few of them to hold this island in the face of attack from the Northumbrians. And it would not just be the Northumbrians, but the whole of Britain when the news got out. No, they not would stay. They would return to their northern lands and she would go with them, to await a ransom that would probably never come.
‘What is a felag?’ she asked to distract her mind from the gloomy path it was following.
‘A felag is a fellowship of traders. We swore a binding blood-oath to each other before we embarked on this journey. All goods gained will be shared out according to the contribution each man made at the beginning of the journey.’
Each man would receive a veritable treasure from the sacking of Lindisfarne. Annis pressed her lips together and held back the angry words.
‘Once we return to our homelands all accounts will be settled and your people will be notified.’ He placed a hand on her shoulder.
‘Accounts?’
‘We came to trade—amber, fur and soapstone. Our season had been good until we encountered the Scotsman.’ He gave a sudden smile. ‘Now it is excellent. All of Northumbria will know what happened here and they will not be as quick to cheat us. We have earned their respect.’
‘You will not find the rest of my country so easy. You attacked monks, men of God. Lindisfarne was a centre of learning. Northumbrians have long memories.’
A flash of unease passed through his blue eyes, but that was all. ‘Your religion is not our religion. We worship the Aesir with Odin and Thor.’
‘All Europe will recoil in horror. They will refuse to trade with you.’
‘They will trade, Annis.’ He wore a superior smile on his lips. ‘They will trade because they want our goods—our furs and amber. And the next time they will be more honest in their dealings with the Norse. It is the way of things.’
Annis wrapped her arms about her waist as she silently watched the last few remaining sparks from the church fly into the air. She refused to cry. She hated these pagan warriors. If only Haakon had not taken her knife from her, she would stick it in him. Happily. She turned her face and examined the stains on her gown. That thought was a lie. She did not want to see this Viken warrior dead, despite what he had done here. He had saved her life—twice.
Dimly she realised Haakon was speaking again.
‘You will keep on the cloak, and follow me if you value your life.’
‘Where are you taking me?’ Annis hated the way her voice quivered.
‘You will be with the other prisoners, since you are so determined to join them.’
‘Who else have you taken?’ Annis thought of the gentle brothers and their community here. Most of their time had been devoted to illuminating the gospels. How long would they last in the hands of a pagan?
‘Strong men, and the leaders of the community, if they are still alive. There were not many left. I will ask your pope in Rome for ransom.’