Sold To The Viking Warrior

‘She was freed before she breathed her last.’

The impulse to ask if her body had hanged from a tree in a sacred grove threatened to overwhelm her, but one look at his face made the words die on her lips. For once she swallowed her words. ‘Who freed her?’

‘I did. I freed her from all torment. It was what she desired most in the world.’ He put his hand on his sword and his cloak fell away from his face. The shaft of dawn light which pierced the mist showed her companion to be one of the handsomest men she had ever seen. His golden hair fell to his shoulders, his lips were full, but his other features were hard. His eyes betrayed a steely determination. Here was no ordinary warrior. There was something about the way he moved and the set of his jaw. He was used to being obeyed. A leader of men.

‘Who are you?’ she asked and then regretted it. Her late husband always proclaimed that her tongue would get her into trouble, one of his milder rebukes. ‘If I agree to join forces with you, will you actually help me instead of lulling me into a false promise?’

She hated that hope grew in her breast. She should know by now that these things only happened in the bards’ tales. There was no one she could depend on, particularly not a cloaked Northman. Thrice cursed, her brother-in-law had called her after Brandon’s funeral. Meeting this Northman, rather than having an uneventful journey, proved it.

‘Give me your name,’ she said when he continued to stare at her. ‘Your true name, rather than a ridiculous nickname like the Northmen often go by. Give it or we shall never be allies.’

‘Sigurd Sigmundson, a traveller like yourself who hungers after justice.’ He tugged his cloak, hiding his features again. His cloak was more threadbare than hers. And yet somehow she couldn’t believe it was his. There was the way that he moved. And she had a glimpse of the sword underneath the cloak. It was far too fine for a sell-sword to use.

‘You mean to pass into the compound unnoticed. That is why you are wearing that old cloak,’ she exclaimed. ‘I mean you must be, otherwise you would row your dragon boat up Loch Indaal and land beside the stronghold.’

Sigurd Sigmundson reached towards her. Liddy took a step backwards and half-stumbled over a root. Coll gave a low rumbling in the back of his throat and Sigurd’s hand instantly dropped to his side.

‘Why would I want to conceal my identity?’ he asked, tilting his head to one side. She caught the sweep of his lashes and again the piercing blue stare.

‘Because the other way is the surest way to end up stuffed in a barrel and sent back to Ketil. Even where we live, we’ve heard rumours about how Thorbin treats his enemies.’ She covered her mark with her hand. ‘My late husband was a warrior. You move with a warrior’s gait, not a beggar’s. If you wish other people not to notice, then you should shuffle rather than stride. Free advice.’

He bowed his head. ‘What are you going to do with this knowledge of yours? Do you wish me ill?’

‘As long as you mean me no harm, it is none of my concern. Once my business with Thorbin is satisfactorily concluded, you may do as you will with him.’ She paused. ‘I, Eilidith of Cennell Fergusa, have reasons for wishing this. He is no friend to my family. But I go first.’

He was silent for a long while. She felt his gaze roam over her body. It had been a long time since a man had looked at her in that appraising way. She tightened the cloak about her figure, hoping it hid most of her curves. She had few illusions about her beauty. Her figure was passable, her mouth too large and her hair was far too red. Flame-coloured, Brandon had called it when he courted her. One of his few compliments.

‘I have come to complete the task Lord Ketil set me,’ he said with a wave of his hand. ‘This task comes before your quest, Eilidith of Cennell Fergusa. Thorbin answers for his crimes and then you find your father and brother. Provided they haven’t been executed as traitors.’

White-hot anger flashed through her. Who was he to condemn them? He had no idea of her story or how her father had sought to protect their clan from the worst of the invaders. ‘My father gave his pledge to Lord Ketil Flatnose the first time he travelled to this island. My brother was but a mewling babe at the time. The tribute has always been paid. No one has ever accused my father of treason...until now.’

Liddy shook her head. She refused to think about the pitiful state of the fields, barely tended in the summer sun. According to her mother, her father had hidden the seed and the gold before he left. Without fresh seed, they stood no chance of having a good harvest and making the tribute.

She gritted her teeth. ‘If necessary, I will go to Lord Ketil and remind him of his sworn oath to my father.’

She hoped he wouldn’t hear the lie in her voice. The last thing she wanted to do was to travel on the sea. The thought of being on the open sea, out of sight of land, terrified her.

‘Will you indeed?’

‘What other option do I have?’

Sigurd regarded the small woman who stood in front of him. The faint light showed him that Eilidith’s hair was auburn, not black as he’d first imagined it. Like the sun setting on a clear summer’s day. The butterfly-shaped mark under her lower lip took her face from bland to intriguing.

She’d shown courage to come to this place with simply a large dog for protection. The only other women he could think of who would have done such a thing were his mother and Beyla, the woman he had given his heart to back in the days when he thought he had a heart. Beyla had chosen safety over their passion, and his half-brother, the man who was now jaarl over this island, Thorbin, over him.

‘I believe you could travel to Ketil and demand justice, as is any ring bearer’s right,’ he said to distract his thoughts from unwanted memories. ‘But Thorbin might have a great reluctance to see a prize like you go. Have you thought about what you might do then?’

She thumped her chest, like a warrior, rather than a lady. ‘I gave a sacred vow that I will see my father free or perish in the attempt.’

Sigurd stood straighter. Had his mother been like that once? Strong and resolute instead of jumping at shadows as she’d done during the last few years of her life? ‘The world would be a poorer place if you died. You obviously have a family who care about you.’

She lifted her head and assessed him as if he were a prize bull at the market. ‘Does Thorbin fear you or someone else more?’

‘Thorbin’s long-delayed day of reckoning has arrived. It gives me immense pleasure to know that I will be the one to ensure it happens. I, too, have a vow I want to see fulfilled.’

Islay was the lynchpin in Ketil’s strategy for the Western Isles. He who controlled Islay, controlled the lucrative trade between Ireland and Alba. All the sea roads flowed past this island. Because of the whirlpool north of Jura, the quickest way to transport goods was overland. Thorbin’s rule had begun a year ago last spring. At first Thorbin’s star flourished and Sigurd had despaired of ever finding a way to avenge his mother, but Thorbin’s tribute had been short at Yule. In the early spring Ketil had sent a man to investigate. When he returned, pickled in a barrel with an insulting message, Ketil finally lost patience with his protégé and ordered Thorbin to return to explain himself. It was Sigurd’s task to deliver the message and ensure Thorbin returned to face the accusation.

Sigurd had spent the last week scouting out the stronghold, coming up with a plan, once he realised sailing up the strait and landing his boats was doomed to failure. His half-brother was no one’s fool. It was obvious that he considered himself immune from retribution. But he’d also taken precautions. The bay was heavily guarded as well as all entrances and exits to the fort.

He felt sorry for this woman’s plight, but in all likelihood her brother and father were already sold or dead. She and the ring she carried, however, were tools he could use.

‘I have learnt that things rarely happen by chance. Our paths have crossed for a purpose,’ he said carefully, aware she had not answered him. ‘Let us fulfil that purpose. Let us together hold Thorbin to account.’

Her jaw became mutinous and her blue-green eyes flashed, becoming like the summer sea after a storm. ‘Why should I trust you, Sigurd Sigmundson? Why are you not going to be exactly like every other Northman? Exactly like Lord Thorbin?’

He ignored the flash of anger at being likened to his half-brother and forced his voice to sound placating, as if he were trying to soothe a nervous horse. He had to give her some reason to make her trust him. ‘We knew each other when we were children. I know his strengths, but also his weaknesses. It is why Lord Ketil gave me this task. I am the only man who can defeat him, but to do that I have to get close to him.’

Her neat white teeth nibbled her lower lip, turning it the colour of the dawn. ‘And you can save my family when you defeat Lord Thorbin?’

‘If they are on Islay, I will. If not, I will go to Ketil and personally lay your claim at his feet.’

‘Why are you suddenly willing to help me?’

‘To prove to you not all Northmen are the same. I remember my debts and I keep my vows.’

She tucked her chin further into her shoulder, hiding the butterfly mark. ‘I need some time.’

Sigurd carefully shrugged and pretended indifference as he handed the dog his last piece of dried meat. The dog put his paws on Sigurd’s shoulders and licked his face with his great wet tongue.

‘Coll, bad dog!’

The dog instantly sat, licked his chops and looked hopefully for another piece.

‘Your dog believes in me. He wants me to save you. Will you join forces with me?’

She bent her head and spoke to the dog before she held out her hand. ‘I may regret this, but we join forces until the time comes for the alliance to end.’

He closed his hand about her slender fingers and resisted the urge to pull her close and taste her mouth. Eilidith of Cennell Fergusa was a tool to be used, not a woman to be enjoyed. He never mixed business with pleasure. He reluctantly released her and stepped away, being careful to keep his face blank. He had discovered the perfect weapon to crack open Thorbin’s fort and destroy him. He would fulfil the vow he’d made as he watched the glowing embers of his parents’ funeral pyre.

‘You will be glad you listened to your dog.’

Chapter Two

Glad she had listened to her dog? Liddy kicked a small pebble, sending it clattering on the path. Coll gave her a look as if asking permission to chase it. Liddy shook her head and the dog stayed beside her.

‘Where are you taking me? We need to be going in the other direction towards the stronghold, towards Thorbin,’ Liddy said when Sigurd turned down another fainter track.

Sigurd stopped so quickly she nearly ran into him. ‘I promise you—we will arrive in time for Thorbin to hear your petition. In fact, I will make certain of it. But we do it my way.’

‘You allowed me to think you were a lone traveller, but there are other Northman in your company,’ she guessed, her heart knocking against her chest. Her curse had struck again. She was going to be the ruin of Cennell Fergusa, rather than its saviour.

‘You failed to ask about the finer details. You can hardly blame me for that.’

‘Northmen always travel in packs. I’ve been a fool. Of course, it is an invasion force and you need to get someone inside.’ A sort of nervous excitement filled her. She had more options than taking Sigurd’s promise to release her father and brother on trust. She could spy out the land, determine where her father and brother were being held and free them in the confusion of the attack.

His lips quirked upwards. ‘Thorbin certainly thinks there will be an invasion. He has fortified his stronghold. It can withstand siege.’

‘It is why you need someone on the inside—to open the gates.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I can get inside and then hide until late at night. I will be able to open the gates.’

He picked up a stick and threw it for Coll. The wolfhound chased it and then came to Liddy with a sheepish air as if he knew she wouldn’t approve. ‘I will set a trap that he won’t be able to resist. The problem has been the bait, but you have solved that difficulty.’

She fingered her mark. Had he missed it in the dim light? Thorbin would turn away in disgust. ‘You don’t understand. He won’t...that is... I am not desirable. You picked the wrong sort of woman.’

He merely picked up the stick where Coll had dropped it. ‘I have the right woman.’

‘But...but...’ Liddy struggled to explain. If she mentioned her curse, he might abandon her.

‘Why not wait until you hear the full scheme?’ He put a steadying hand under her elbow. She jerked her arm away from him. ‘Better than making wild guesses, I always find.’

‘What happened the last time you and Thorbin met?’ Liddy asked to distract her from the unintentional comfort the light touch brought.

‘He thought he had killed me. This time I have the measure of the man. He has grown soft and arrogant. I will win this time, Eilidith of Cennell Fergusa. I have learnt from my mistakes.’

The breeze whipped his hair from his face. He appeared utterly determined. Liddy glanced down at the ground. He might be the best hope her family had of surviving. She’d be foolish to walk away from him.

‘Then I am grateful you survived. I hope Thorbin will be less grateful.’

A rumble of laughter rang through the morning air. Soft and low, doing something to her insides.

‘Is it something I said?’

‘You are refreshing, Eilidith.’ He gave a crooked smile. ‘Come meet my crew. Come learn what I will have you do.’

‘I would be better off being the one to open the gate,’ Liddy said to the ground. ‘I can’t see Thorbin being interested in me.’

‘You’ve never met him. I have. You will be perfect. Trust me on this.’

* * *

‘Keep your dog under control until my men have been introduced. I would hate for anything to happen.’

At Sigurd’s words, Eilidith curled her hand about the wolfhound’s collar. He nodded, pleased she had obeyed. He knew he’d almost lost her when he started to explain about his scheme, but she had recovered and stayed, rather than running, proving his instinct correct. The time had come to avenge his mother and make good his vow.

Sigurd whistled softly through his fingers. Within a few heartbeats, Hring Olafson, an older warrior who Sigurd knew more from reputation and whom Ketil had decreed would be second in command of the felag, appeared from the shadows with a double axe in his hand, closely followed by his other oarsmen.

‘Where are the rest?’ Eilidith asked. ‘You can barely number more than twenty.’

Sigurd gestured to his men. ‘Except for the ones who guard the boats, they are all here.’

‘This is your invasion force?’ Eilidith knelt beside her dog. ‘Perhaps I should have stuck with my first plan.’

‘They will be enough, you will see.’

‘We had given you up for dead. You were supposed to return three nights ago,’ Hring said, enfolding him in a rough embrace. In a lower tone in Sigurd’s ear, he added, ‘Get rid of the woman. She will slow us down. She doesn’t look the sort who would entice Thorbin to do anything. He prefers blondes with large bosoms. She won’t get close enough to wield a knife.’

‘This is the newest addition to our enterprise,’ Sigurd said, ignoring Hring. The older warrior remained sore that he had not been confirmed as the leader of this expedition. ‘Lady Eilidith is the key to getting in.’

‘The key or the lock?’ Hring asked, making an obscene gesture. ‘Thorbin has only one use for women.’

The rest of men joined in the crude laughter. Eilidith’s face went scarlet. She might not be fluent in the North language, but there was no mistaking the meaning of the disrespectful gesture. Sigurd ground his teeth. Hring was far from his first choice on this expedition, but Ketil had insisted.

‘If I had needed a whore, I would have bought one, Hring.’

‘Even still, is it wise to trust a woman like that?’ Hring touched his lower lip. ‘The gods have marked her.’

Sigurd held up his hand and the laughter instantly ceased. ‘Continue along that line and I will assume you wish to challenge for the leadership.’

Hring held out his hands as the rest of the men fell silent and backed away. ‘It was a bit of fun. Harmless banter. That is all. If you want to stake all on this woman, then as leader it is your privilege. You’ve got us this far. Allow me to formulate a plan on what happens when we fail.’

‘Seven days ago you proclaimed that we would perish when we set foot on land. Has your ability to foresee the future improved?’ Sigurd said, steadily.

The other man was the first to look away.

‘We have a duty to help Lady Eilidith,’ Sigurd proclaimed, ignoring Hring. Once he had succeeded, Hring would be the first to praise him. For now, he kept his focus on the ultimate prize—Thorbin. Everything else was a distraction. ‘She bears Ketil’s ring as proof of the great friendship Ketil bore her father. A man who turns his back on the ring’s promise is a man who has broken faith with Ketil.’

‘May we see this ring?’ Hring asked. ‘I know what these Gaels are like.’

Sigurd wasn’t sure how much of the exchange she had understood, but Eilidith held up the ring with its seal without prompting. He gave Eilidith a pointed stare and she gave a faint shrug before examining the ground.

‘Her father swore allegiance to Ketil,’ Sigurd said, making sure he looked each of his men in the eye, rather than pondering on the mystery which was Eilidith. ‘Thorbin has ignored the friendship and falsely imprisoned him. Should Ketil ignore the insult?’

‘No!’ his men roared as one and beat their swords against their shields. The roar caused Coll to howl along with them. At the noise, everybody laughed and the tension eased.

Hring inclined his head. ‘I stand corrected. You were right to take up her cause. Lord Ketil should never be mocked in this fashion.’

‘Ketil’s wishes must be adhered to.’

‘Ketil wants Thorbin alive.’ Hring scratched the back of his neck. ‘Do you think you can still do that? After what you have seen?’

‘If possible, I believe is how the order goes,’ Sigurd responded. ‘One never knows what might happen in battle.’

‘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.’