They laughed at her cowardice. From this and her short stature they knew her to be a woman, though they assumed they were making sport with one of their own.
One of the stout men dismounted. The younger of the two, he was wrapped in fur pelts; these made him look twice his normal size, which was immense to begin with.
"A wench out this early, and alone, must be meeting her lover. You need look no further, for you have found two instead of just one to satisfy you.'
The other Viking still sat on his steed. He was not much older than the first, but just as large and menacing. His expression showed he was impatient with the other man's remarks.
"Ease off, Cedric," he said, though it was hardly a command. Then he turned to the woman. "Your name, mistress?"
"Adosinda," she lied.
"I know of no one with that name," Cedric remarked. "Do you, Arno?"
"Nay. From where do you come, Mistress Adosinda?"
She hesitated, her heart beating wildly. "From—from across the fjord."
Both men became deadly serious. "You are of the Haardrad clan?"
"Only distantly, very distantly."
"If you come from across the fjord, then you must know you are not welcome on this side!" Arno exclaimed.
"This is a plot, Arno," the younger Viking speculated. "I told you the Haardrads had been quiet for too long. They have sent a woman to sneak into our homes and kill us while we sleep! Who would suspect a woman?"
" 'Tis not true, I swear!" she cried. "No one knows I have come here!"
"Do not lie, mistress. I am Cedric Borgsen, third son of Latham. " 'Twas my oldest brother Edgar that Hugh Haardrad killed. If I sense deceit, you will die instantly!"
"I mean you no harm!" she insisted, fear gripping her. "I came without weapon."
"Why then do you trespass where you are not wanted?"
"I seek your help."
"You seek to trick us!" Cedric accused.
"Nay—nay! I know of no man who would help me, for 'tis my intention to slight a Haardrad, and what vassal or kin would do this? Nay, only a Borgsen would carry out my plan."
"Your words ring false. What Haardrad would seek to harm another?" Arno demanded.
"A woman—one with much to gain by it."
"Hear her out, Arno. I am most curious now."
"What I want done is very simple, and I will pay you well for it. There is a slave girl captured only recently— a Celtic beauty with raven hair and eyes the color of smoke. She stands in my way, and I want her gone."
"Killed?"
"I do not care what you do with her once you have her," the woman continued. "You can keep her for yourself as long as she does not escape—and she will try. You could also sell her far away from here and gain another fat purse. Or, yea, even kill her; I care not."
"How does stealing a slave girl slight a Haardrad?" Arno demanded.
" 'Twas Anselm Haardrad who brought her here and he gave her to his second son, Garrick. In a short time, Garrick has been bewitched by her. He treasures this girl and will be devastated when she runs away."
"Runs away?"
The woman laughed, an evil cackle. "It must appear that way. You see, Garrick will search for her far and wide, but he will give up eventually. However, if he thought she did not leave freely, that she was taken away by force, he would never rest until he found her."
"It sounds to me like a trap," Arno said. "We cross the fjord and find Haardrads waiting there for us."
"If you know anything of the Haardrads, you know they do not deal in trickery. They fight fairly, Borgsen."
" 'Tis the truth," Cedric admitted reluctantly. "Hugh came and challenged my brother. 'Twas a fair fight."
"Mayhaps this is so," Arno replied skeptically. "But your father should be informed of this plan—he knows the enemy well. 'Twould be foolish to agree to this woman's scheme without Latham's advice."
Young Cedric was affronted. "Do you imply, Arno, that I cannot decide on this matter myself?"
"Nay, only that I think it wise that your father be enlightened. After all, there has been no bloodshed in this feud for years, naught but the slaughter of worthless cattle and scrawny dogs. This woman's scheme could well bring about vengeance of a different nature."
"It could also make us richer, with no one the wiser," Cedric responded greedily.
"And the slave?" Arno persisted. "How will you explain her presence here?"
"My friend, you search for a storm when it has yet to brew. We will keep the slave at your farm until we decide what to do with her. 'Tis that simple."
The woman stepped closer, glad to see that the greed of these men was overcoming their suspicions. "You need have no fear that bloodshed or vengeance will come of this," she assured them. "It must be made to appear that the slave has run away. Therefore, you and your clan will not be suspect. And you will have this to gain," showing them the sack of gold. "You will also have the knowledge that you harmed a Haardrad without him knowing of it. If you give me your word that you will do as I ask, you will have the payment now and see no more of me. Do you agree?"
The man on the ground did not consult his friend again, but answered readily. "First you will tell us how you think this plan of yours can be accomplished, then you will have our word."
The woman smiled, confident that she would soon have what she wanted.
Chapter 34
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BRENNA woke to boisterous cheers and the sound of horses galloping away from the settlement. Her first observation was that she was alone. Then the sounds that had awakened her made sense in her turbid thoughts. The horse race had already begun.
She quickly donned her velvet gown, careful to shake the straw from it first, grabbed her cloak and left the stable. The crisp morning air helped to bring her fully awake, and she wondered now how she had slept through all the excitement as men readied their horses for the race.
The memory of the night before was like a cancerous sore festering inside her, and the thought of staying for more festivities was abhorrent.
In the crowd that had gathered for the start of the race, Brenna spied her aunt and sauntered slowly to her side. Linnet looked refreshed after a good night's sleep, and met Brenna with a warm smile.
"I thought you would be here to wish your Viking luck," Linnet said cheerfully. "He did look for you."
"If he had wanted any good wishes, then he should have woken me," Brenna replied in a listless tone.
"What is amiss, Brenna?" Linnet asked. "You do not look well at all."
"I am merely tired. I did not sleep well in the stable."
Linnet's concern was visible in the tightness of her expression. "My quarters are empty. You may sleep there for a while if you like. The men will not return until midday."
"Nay, Aunt. I will make my way home. I have no wish to see Garrick this day."
"But the feast . . ."
"Will continue without me. I will not celebrate when I have naught to be thankful for."
"What has happened, Brenna? You were so happy when last we spoke."
"I have been a fool."
"Because of Garrick? Does he not care for you as I— as we thought?"
"He cares, Aunt, but not enough," Brenna replied and started to walk back to the stable. "Not nearly enough."
"Brenna, wait!" Linnet called after her. "He will ask for you. What will I tell him?"
Brenna turned and shrugged. "The truth. I have gone home and will not return. I will see him when he has had enough of revelry."
It was a short distance from Anselm's settlement to Garrick's house on the cliff, but to Brenna it seemed an endless journey. She rode aimlessly for a while, brooding over Garrick's aloof attitude.
It took several moments after she had reached the stable, before she realized that Erin was nowhere to be seen. That was a stroke of luck. Now she would not have to explain why she was alone. The house was also empty, and as cold as the outside, if not more so. Brenna did not bother to li
ght the fires in the lower half of the house, but went straight to her room. There she sat on her bed, staring dismally at a crack in the floor.
At last anger came to the surface and slowly took hold, searching for an outlet. Brenna was beside herself with this new anger born of hurt. Since Garrick was not there for her to vent it on, she chose the next best thing—his gifts. She yanked off the two gold arm rings and threw them at the wall, but they merely fell and rattled on the floor, coming to rest undamaged. Disappointed, she started a fire, then tossed the rings into it, but the process of melting the gold was too slow and not at all satisfying. Next Brenna tore off her beautiful gown, ripping it again and again till it lay in shreds on the floor.
The sight of what her destructive actions had wrought, brought tears that stung her eyes. " 'Twas too rich for a slave, so a slave should not have it!" she cried aloud. Then remorse overcame her as she thought of the kind woman who had made the gown for her. "Heloise will not be pleased." More tears fell. "Look what you have made me do, Garrick! 'Tis your fault and no other's," she said childishly, then threw herself on the bed. "Damn you, Viking! I do not like this hurt I feel!"
Sleep came unexpectedly and lasted most of the afternoon. It was late when a sound outside Brenna's door woke her. She immediately scrambled beneath her covers, hating to be found in this predicament. A second later, before she could completely hide her nakedness, her door was thrown open and Garrick bounded into the room.
His face was a mask of fury. "I did not give you leave to return here, mistress!"
"I am aware of that"
"Yet you did as you pleased!" he shouted before his eyes fell on the ruined gown. Then he turned on her with new rage, and yanked her from the bed. "I came here to drag you back with me if necessary, but I see you have made that impossible!"
Hot color burned her cheeks as he held her cruelly before him. " 'Twould not do to have a guest in your father's house wearing coarse wool, now would it, Viking?" she taunted him with sarcasm to hide her own humiliation.
"Nay, it would not," he answered coldly. "And since you prefer your slave's garments, 'twill be all you will have, wench, for you will receive no more gifts from me!"
"I did not ask for any!"
He made as if to strike her, but instead shoved her away from him, and she fell back against the bed. "You will stay in this house, since 'tis where you prefer to be. I will find another to entertain me at the feast."
His words struck her harder than his hand would have. "Do you think I care?" she shouted, though her voice cracked with the lie.
"It matters little if you care or not," he replied, wounding her further. "And henceforth you will abide by my rules, wench, for I am through being lenient with you."
"What will you do, Viking?" she demanded recklessly. "Will you take my life as carelessly as you took my love?"
He stared hard at her for a long moment, his eyes moving over her soft curves, stopping at her heaving breasts, then resting on her face, seeing her proud beauty, her defiance, her spirit. She was like a wild, untamable creature, yet vulnerable.
"Nay, I will not take your life, Brenna," he said, deeply, thoroughly impassioned by the sight of her splendor. "I will take your love again—now."
Before she could cry nay, he fell on her, his only effort that of lowering his breeches to unsheath his manhood, which throbbed to be inside her. Brenna was shocked and repelled by this onslaught. She was too enraged to be stirred by the rape, and fought him wildly, clawing his bare arms till blood dripped on her bed. But he did not stop or try to stay her hands, pressing on until his gift of life poured into her and he collapsed.
When he left the small bed and fastened his breeches, Brenna trembled in outrage at the way he had callously taken her with no thought for her, only his own animal needs. She would never forgive him for that.
"Remember my warning, Brenna," he said as he crossed to the door. "Do not leave this house."
Even now he was asserting his power over her, reminding her that she belonged to him, that she could only do what he allowed her to. He scorned her love, yet he controlled her life.
"Did you hear me, mistress?"
She glared at him with malice, her eyes dark cinders. "The devil take you, Viking! May you never find your Valhalla, but rot in hell with Loki's daughter!"
Garrick seemed to pale. "Those are harsh words, Brenna, even spoken in anger. Another would slay you for such a curse."
"Do so! Kill me!" she screamed. "I don't care anymore!"
Garrick did not answer, but quickly left the room before he took his anger out on her again. He went directly to the stable, and for the second time did not notice that Erin was not about. He mounted the poor beast who had run his best that morn, though Garrick still lost to Hugh. Losing had soured his mood considerably, but finding Brenna gone was the last blow.
Garrick bolted from the stable, his temper boiling. "Damn fickle woman!" he growled at the wind. "First she cried her hatred so stubbornly, then she turned about and said she loved me—now she hates me again. I gave her all I had to give, but nay, 'tis not enough for her! Loki take her! I do not need this vexation."
Garrick spurred his horse on without pity. He would drown in mead this night and forget the stubborn vixen at his house.
Chapter 35
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BRENNA started the cooking fire, then prepared a loaf of flat bread as she had seen Janie do so often. She was in a much better frame of mind now. After Garrick had left, she had cried some more, but then she realized how foolish she had been. Garrick was willing to share his life with her, to give her what he could. She must accept that and be grateful for it. One day he might change and love again. After all, she had changed.
The house was quiet, with only the occasional crackling of the fire to break the stillness. Dog was sprawled out beneath the table, so Brenna did not see his head when it suddenly perked up. However, she did hear the noise outside that had aroused the white shepherd.
Could Garrick have returned already? If so, then he must have missed her company. Brenna smiled at that thought and waited for the door to open. It did, although very slowly. Cold air rushed into the room and chilled Brenna, but not as much as the realization that Garrick would not enter his house in such a stealthy manner, nor would anyone that she knew.
A man stepped carefully around the half-opened door—a tall man, nearly Garrick's height, with golden brown hair and light blue eyes. He was warmly wrapped in fur pelts of different colors, and a single-edged sword was clasped in his hand.
Brenna held her breath. She did not know this Viking, and from his look of surprise when he spied her, he did not know her either.
Dog came to her side, his low growl bringing back some of her courage. The dagger Garrick entrusted her with rested on her hip, and this also lessened her apprehension, though her weapon was little good against a broadsword.
"Brenna?'"
She was bewildered. Did he know her after all? But no, his tone was questioning. He must only know of her, and so must also know Garrick. Perhaps there was nothing to fear, then.
"Who are you?" she asked, but his expression showed plainly that he did not understand her.
Brenna bit her lip in indecision, wondering if she should speak his tongue or not. Dog continued to growl threateningly. Did he sense danger?
"The wench is alone, Cedric."
Brenna caught her breath and whirled around to face the stranger who had come in from another part of the house. Before she could even appraise the situation, the young man called Cedric grabbed her from behind. She cried out in startled alarm, and at that moment Dog bared his teeth and attacked the Viking's leg.
Cedric yelled in pain as Dog drew blood, and he raised his sword to sever the animal's head.
"Nay!" Brenna screamed, and grabbed the Viking's arm to stay him. She forgot her own fear and mustered all her strength to keep the sword from reaching its target Yet it was not through her efforts that Dog was spared, for she
was like a mouse against a deadly hawk. The other Viking acted quickly and kicked Dog away from the descending sword.
"She would not kill the dog," he said warningly, "so neither can we."
"Ah! 'Tis a fool's errand, this trickery!" Cedric spat and released Brenna in order to tend to his leg. "We have the girl, Arno. That is enough."
"We will do this as the woman wanted it done," Arno replied. " 'Tis the only reason I agreed, because we will never be suspected."
Cedric grunted and remarked with sarcasm, "The purse of gold swayed you not a little, eh?"
Arno ignored that question and stared angrily at his friend. "Is revenge against a dog worth your father's wrath?"
"How so?"
Arno threw up his hands in exasperation, a coiled rope he held sliding up to his shoulder as he did so. "Must I remind you that your father loathes the feud you and your brothers started. 'Tis my thinking, and you know it too, that Latham would frown on this deed. If we are found out, 'twill bring the peace of these last years to a bloody end."
Brenna stood silently between these two men as they argued. She did not understand exactly why they had come here, but she knew it boded her no good. Though he would live, Dog was hurt, and could not come to her aid again—and Garrick was enjoying himself at the feast.
She felt a twinge of resentment that Garrick had left her here alone to fend for herself. Then she chided herself. It was not his fault, but hers, that she was here facing God knows what.
Before Arno finished his last words, Brenna slipped slowly from between them. In frantic haste, for this was her only chance as far as she could see, she turned and started to run. Suddenly her feet became tangled in something and she fell forward, scraping the palms of her hands against the hard floor.
With dread, she realized her error as she was roughly yanked to her feet. She glared at this Viking who had cunningly thrown his rope at her feet to stop her. Her eyes were as dark and wild as a tempest as she watched him gather the short rope and wrap it about her wrists.