Hearts Aflame Read online

  Chapter Four

  It was the storm that gave Kristen away, and it was not even a bad storm, at least not yet. But as soon as the ship had started riding the bucking waves, she started retching. A fine sailor she made. She had forgotten it had been this way the last time she sailed. The least disturbance to the sea, and she could not hold on to the contents of her stomach.

  Someone had heard her retching and had opened the hatch to the cargo well. After one look at her, the sailor had slammed the hatch back down. She did not even see who it was, nor did she care at the moment, for the pitching of the ship grew steadily worse.

  She had been so fortunate until now. She had managed to sneak out to her brothers' rooms behind the stable and borrow a set of Thorall's clothes to wear for the voyage, though she brought along some of her own gowns to wear when they reached the trading towns. Getting into the cargo well had been the easiest part, for only one man had been left to watch the ship, and though he sat near the cargo well, he had nodded off to sleep. Kristen, quick and nimble despite her height, had seized the opportunity. And the cargo well had kept her quite comfortable even if it was pitch-dark inside. It was piled high with soft furs to hide behind and make her a nice bed.

  So it had done for two days. She could have hoped for at least one more day before revealing herself, for the food she had brought would last that long. It was not to be. The storm had revealed her now. And although no one came yet to confront her, inevitably someone would.

  To Kristen, it seemed as if that third day had come and gone by the time the hatch was opened again and the light of day flooded down on her. She stiffened herself to prepare for battle to the extent that her weakened body would allow, which was not much. She still felt miserable, even though the storm was finally over.

  It was Selig who dropped down into the well. Kristen lay where she had last been tossed, practically at his feet. The light hurt her eyes, and she couldn't manage to look up and face it. It was his voice, hard with anger, that told her who it was. "Do you know what you have done, Kristen?" "I know," she answered weakly. "Nay, you do not!" She shielded her eyes in an attempt to see his expression, but still could not. "Selig, please, I cannot look up at the light yet." He squatted down beside her, grabbing a fistful of the thick fur vest she wore over the tight leather tunic, which managed to flatten her breasts. Darkly his eyes scanned the tightly gartered leggings and the soft-skinned high boots trimmed in fur. Her waist was girded with a wide belt, the large buckle set with tiny emeralds. "Where did you get these?" he demanded of the clothes. "They are not yours," she assured him. "I borrowed them from Thorall, since he is still closer to my height and—" "Shut up, Kristen!" he snapped at her. "Do you know what you look like?" "Like one of your crew?" she ventured, trying to tease him out of his anger. It didn't work. His gray eyes were as dark as the storm that had just passed. He looked as if he longed to hit her and it was taking all his strength not to. "Why, Kristen? Never before have you done anything this foolish!" "There are several reasons." She could see her brother clearly now that he was down on her level, but she avoided his eyes when she added, "One reason was the adventure." "Worth Father's fury?" "That was only one reason. There was also the fact that I want to wed, Selig, but there is no one at home that I want. I hoped to meet many new men at the great market towns." "Father would have taken you," he stated coldly. "I know. Mother already told me he might do that when you returned or, if not then, in the spring." "But you decided not to wait. Just like that!" He snapped his fingers. "You defy—" "Wait, Selig. There was one other reason. There was someone—and I will not give a name, so do not ask— but someone who meant to force me to wed him by—by taking me." "Dirk!" he exploded. "I said no names, Selig. But I could not tell anyone about this man, or I would never have been able to go anywhere or do anything by myself. Father would have dealt with him, but would not have killed him with no harm done yet. And a talking to or a beating—well, I do not think that would have dissuaded this particular man. I would have lost my freedom, so I felt the best thing to do was take myself away for a while, and if I might find myself a husband at the same time, then all the better." "Odin help me!" he swore. "I should have expected no better reasoning from a woman." "Unfair, Selig! I told you it was all those reasons combined that decided me," she said defensively. "More like it was only the excitement of adventure that decided you, for there are ways to deal with a man such as you describe and you know it!" "Father would not have killed him for simply making threats against me." "But I would have." She looked narrowly at him. "You would have killed him just for wanting me? Would you kill every man who wants me?" "Every one who thinks to have you whether you say yea or nay." She grinned at him now, knowing it was just the brother in him talking. "Then there is no problem. You will be all the protection I will need in the market towns." "If you were going, which you are not," he retorted. "You are going home." "Oh, nay, Selig! The men would never forgive me if so much time was wasted." "They will every one of them agree to take you home!" "But why? Where is the harm if I go along? You are only going trading." At his furious look, her eyes widened with a particular thought and lit up with excitement. "You are going Viking!" At that moment their cousin Hakon appeared at the hatch opening. "You told her, Selig? Thor! That was a fool thing to do," the blond giant grumbled. "Idiot!" Selig stood up to glare at the younger man. "You just told her! She had only guessed before." Hakon dropped down into the well to stare eye to eye with Selig. "So now what will you do? Take her home so she can tell your father?" Selig rolled his eyes heavenward. "I swear, Hakon, you are a veritable font of information. How our enemies would love to get their hands on you." "What did I say?" Selig did not deign to answer that, but looked down at Kristen, who was smiling widely now. "You would not tell Father, would you?" he asked in the most hopeful tone she had ever heard from him. "What do you think?" He groaned at her for such an answer, but he took his anger out on Hakon, pulling his fist back and sending the younger man falling into the pile of furs. He followed the blow by diving on top of Hakon, who retaliated in true Viking fashion.

  Kristen let the fight go on for several minutes before she interrupted in a tone just loud enough so they would hear her above their grunts of pain. "If you think to make me feel guilty by having to look at two bruised faces on the morrow, I must disappoint you, for I will not take credit for your sport." Selig rolled over and sat up to growl at her. "I should throw you into the sea, Kristen. Then I would only have to tell our parents you drowned, instead of having to confess I took you Viking. I think they would rather hear that you drowned." She crawled over to him on her hands and knees and gave him a kiss on the cheek that was already starting to swell, then sat back on her haunches to grin at him. "Give in gracefully, Brother, and tell me where we are going." "That is something you do not need to know, so do not ask again. You will stay on the ship and out of sight." "Selig!" But he ignored her plea and pulled himself out of the well. She turned on Hakon, who was just standing. "Will you tell me?" "And have him mad at me for the rest of the voyage? Have a heart, Kristen." "Oh, unfair!" she cried at his back as he left her, too.

  Chapter Five

  They had sailed south, farther south than Kristen had ever dreamed of going. She knew it was south, for each night the sky stayed darker longer, until finally the darkness was equal to the daylight. For days now they had sailed past a beautiful land whose coastline was kissed by summer's green, but no one would tell her what land it was. She knew something about the lands to the south; she couldn't help but know with the number of servants that had come and gone from her home through the years, all from different lands. The land they sailed past now could be the large island of the Irish Celts, or the even bigger island that was shared by the Scots, Picts, Angles, Saxons, and the Welsh Celts, her mother's people. Or it could even be the land of the Franks, though she did think that land would be to the left, not on the right as this one was.

  If it was one of the large islands, then she had reason to believe
they might be raiding the Danes, for those Northmen had set about conquering both islands, and the last she heard, they had nearly succeeded. And if it was the Danes they would raid, well, what an equal match that would be, as opposed to attacking the smaller peoples of those islands. Selig knew more about it, but he wasn't telling her anything. Although still highly displeased with her, he had finally let her come out of the cargo well. Even Thorolf, Tyra's brother, would tell her nothing. She supposed their logic was that if she didn't know where they were or what they did once they landed, she would have nothing to tell her father when they finally returned home.

  As if she would have the nerve to tell her father any of this! He was a successful merchant. He did not condone raiding with his ships. The men of the Haardrad clan had not raided since her grandfather's day. But of course the young men dreamed of the riches that could be had with one successful raid, and these men sailing under Selig were all young, and this was a fine ship for such a venture.

  Built of oak, it had a stout pine mast that supported the large square sail of red and white stripes. The long ship sailed swiftly through the waters, helped along by the sixteen pairs of long, narrow-bladed spruce oars, the red and gold dragon's head pointing the way. Kristen was not sorry she had come, for the excitement of the men became her own. And even though she would not be allowed to leave the ship, God's teeth, she now had a story with which to amaze her children and grandchildren on cold winter nights! And the climax was soon at hand. She could tell by the change in the men, and by the way Selig and Ohthere now watched the coast even more closely.

  It was early morning when they turned into the mouth of a wide river, and every man was now needed at the oars. Kristen's excitement built with each passing minute, for this seemed like virgin land to her, even though she could see small settlements and villages from time to time.

  The explorer in her was fascinated with everything she saw. The adventurer in her held her breath when they finally dropped anchor and Selig came to her, for she was still hoping she might be allowed to go with them. She had even readied herself for that possibility, tucking her long braid into the back of her tunic to keep it out of the way, and wearing the silver helmet that Ohthere had teasingly tossed to her that morning.

  Kristen didn't have a shield, but although she hadn't thought that she would need it, she had brought along the lightweight sword her mother had given her all those years ago when she taught her to use it. However, she wouldn't reveal the sword to Selig unless he did agree to let her go with him, for her possession of such a fine weapon would elicit too many questions from him.

  His scowling expression as he looked over her male apparel did not bode well for his changing his mind about where she would stay until he returned. Selig was a very handsome man, but when he scowled he was frightening, except to her, who knew him so well. "I have been a sore trial to you, Selig, but—" "Not a word, Kristen." Impatiently he cut her short. "I can see you are still of a mind to do what you want and not what I tell you, but not this time. You will get yourself into the cargo well and stay there until I return." "But—" "Do it, Kristen!" "Oh, very well." She sighed, then gave him a half smile, for she couldn't say good-bye to him with harsh words. "May the gods bring you luck—for whatever it is you are going to do." He almost laughed, but grinned instead. "That— from you, Christian?" "Well, I know my god will watch over you without the asking, but I also know you would welcome all the help you can get from Father's gods as well." "Then spend your time praying for me, Kris." His eyes softened just before he hugged her to him. But then he nodded toward the cargo well, and Kristen dropped her shoulders in defeat and went.

  She did not stay there for long, however. No sooner was the last man over the side and heading for the river-bank than she pulled herself out of the well, gaining a grin from Bjorn, one of the men left behind with the ship, and a scowl from the other guard. But neither of them barked at her to get below, so she was able to watch the crew make their way inland toward a thick forest that blocked the rest of the land from view.

  She paced about in her frustration to be stuck here where there would be no action at all. It was only midday and a hot sun beat down on them, hotter than any she had ever known in Norway. How long would the men be gone? God's teeth, it could be days for all she knew. "Thor!" Kristen swung around to see the last of the crew entering the dark forest. And then she heard what the man beside her had heard: the clanging of swords and the cries of men engaged in battle. "They must be a mighty force if they can attack instead of turning tail to run. Get below, Kristen!" Bjorn shouted this even as he jumped over the side of the ship. Kristen obeyed, but only to collect her sword. When she pulled herself back out of the well, she saw that both of the men who had been left behind were now running toward the forest to help their friends. She did not hesitate to join them, for as Bjorn had said, only a mighty force would attack so many armed Vikings, and she reasoned they would need even her help, little as it might be.

  She caught up with the two men just as they reached the forest and charged into it with bloodcurdling yells. She did not follow directly. There was nothing around her but fallen bodies. Oh, God, she had not thought it would be like this. She saw her cousin Olaf lying at an odd angle... there was so much blood. Selig! Where was Selig?

  She forced her gaze away from the ground littered with dead men to look ahead of her, where the fighting was still going on. She took note of the attackers now, and could not believe that these small, wiry men had done so much damage, for there were not so many that she could see—and, she realized, they were not all small, either. There was one even a few inches taller than she, and he was fighting—Selig! And God in heaven, he was not the only one wielding a sword against her brother.

  She started forward to help him, but was set upon by a little man with a fierce cry who blocked her way. Instead of facing a sword, she was attacked with a long spear that she quickly cut in two, and the moment she raised her sword against the man, he fled. Having lost direction, she swung frantically about, searching for Selig again, and then screamed, for just as her eyes found him, he was falling, and the tall one he had been fighting pulled back a bloody sword. She went wild, racing toward him, her eyes fixed on the man who had struck him down.

  Kristen struck blindly at a man who appeared on her right to challenge her, leaving him behind. And then she was there, before her brother's killer, and fending off his first thrust. Their eyes met just before her sword entered his flesh. She noted that his blue eyes widened perceptibly as she pulled her sword out, but it was the last thing she saw.

  Chapter Six

  A single candle cast a subdued light in the small chamber. A narrow bed rested against one wall, with a large coffer at its foot. Covering the opposite wall was a large tapestry of a field of summer flowers with children frolicking. On another hung a highly polished steellike glass, with a narrow shelf below holding an assortment of items from jewel-studded pins and bone comb cases, to tiny colored bottles of floral scents, and a thickly padded bench before it.

  A tall carved post stood in a corner of the chamber with wooden pegs running down its length, an ornament in itself, draped as it was with sheer veils and ribbons of different colors. At the only window hung strips of bright-yellow silk, a sheer waste of a most expensive cloth. There were two high-backed chairs set by a small round table with a painted ceramic vase of red roses on it.

  The chairs were presently draped with the clothes of the two occupants on the bed. The chamber belonged to the woman, Corliss of Raedwood, a small-boned beauty of a score and one years, who was quite vain of her luxuriant red-gold tresses and eyes the color of rich chocolate.

  Corliss was the betrothed of the man lying with her, Royce of Wyndhurst, one of King Alfred's nobles. Four years ago she had been offered to him for wife, but was refused. This past winter she had pestered and coerced her father as only a beloved daughter can, to offer her again, and this time she was accepted. But she knew she was accepted this last ti
me only because she had managed to get Lord Royce to her chamber, where she had thrown herself at him, and he, drunk from her father's feast, had taken her.

  Giving herself to Royce that night was no great sacrifice for Corliss, though she hoped he had not realized it, for she had been with one other man before him. Only one, though, for after that first time, she had decided that this part of the man-woman relationship was not to her liking at all. Yet she knew she would have to grit her teeth and bear it often once she was married to Royce.

  It was a sign of her determination that in spite of disliking his lovemaking, Corliss still offered herself to Royce each time he came to visit her, which was fortunately not often. She was afraid that if she withheld herself from him now, before the wedding, he would break the betrothal. After all, he did not really want a wife. He was only a score and seven years, and in no great hurry to tie himself down. At least, that was the excuse he had used often enough to the fathers of marriageable daughters. There was another reason known too, though he never used it. He had been betrothed previously, five years ago, to a girl he had loved. He had lost her three days before they were to wed and had loved no other girl since.