Viking Passion (21 page)

Lenora pulled the strings tight and tied them
about her neck. She tucked the bag under the neckline of her dress
and patted at it until it was nearly flat.

“That will do for now,” she said.

She wondered if she and Erik could slip out
to the barn later. She wanted to be able to speak to him without
the others hearing, to thank him for her freedom, to hold his naked
body in her arms and abandon herself to his caresses. Just once
more. Just one last time.

“Lenora,” Freydis interrupted her thoughts as
she joined the other women in the kitchen, “I wanted to ask
you—”

There was a loud crash in the main room, and
an unmistakable sneering laugh, followed by Asmund’s shout.

“Snorri!”

Tola dropped the wooden plates she was
holding. Freydis turned white. Lenora moved to the doorway to see
what was happening.

Snorri, sword ready in his hand, had thrown
back the wooden door to the street, smashing it against the wall as
he entered. He was followed into the house by Hrolf and Bjarni.
More armed men could be seen crowding behind them at the
doorway.

“Come in, brother.” Erik was apparently
unruffled by Snorri’s sudden appearance. “How did you find me so
quickly?”

“Erna,” Snorri replied. “Let me give you a
lesson in women, cripple. When you leave a wench like Erna for
another woman you must do one of two things. Either you kill her or
you pay her well. Otherwise, she will seek to do you harm. Erna was
your woman once, but you neglected her completely after Lenora
arrived at Thorkellshavn, and the other women teased her about it.
Her pride was badly hurt. You poured salt into that wound by going
away without even saying good-bye to her. Tola, gossiping as usual,
had told her friend Erna where you were going. Erna told me. An
entertaining woman, that Erna. A bit quick to lift her skirts, but
then, unlike you, I paid her well.”

“I will remember your advice,” Erik said
dryly.

“You won’t live long enough to use it,
thief.”

“I am no thief.”

“I have learned you stole part of Thorkell’s
hoard. I want it back.”

“Thorkell gave me that silver for my own
use.”

“You lie. You stole it,” Snorri insisted. “I
think you have loaded it on some ship, disguised as cargo. I think
you plan to take it to Miklagard with you.”

“Do you?” Erik’s smile was guileless.

“I know what a coward you are, how you hate
to fight. Give back the silver and I’ll let you go without hurting
you.”

“If you want to bargain with someone, you
should not begin by insulting him. What about Freydis?”

“Freydis will return to Thorkellshavn with
me, and marry Kare.”

“That is something over which we will never
haggle, Snorri. Freydis is not for Kare.”

Lenora saw Snorri’s sword flash as he raised
his arm to strike. She saw Erik duck and leap aside, unsheathing
his own blade. The room erupted into battle as Snorri’s men forced
their way inside.

Halfdan cut down one man before he came
through the door. Holgar attacked a second and. Halfdan took down a
third man. Asmund and Ingvar struggled with Hrolf and Bjarni.
Snorri and Erik, locked in combat, lurched through a side door into
the courtyard.

The room was too small for so many people.
There wasn’t enough room to maneuver. Swords and shields and
battle-axes got in the way of movement.

Halfdan dispatched another of Snorri’s men,
swung around, and leapt toward the kitchen.

“Freydis,” he shouted, “go to the barn. Get
the horses ready.” Snorri’s men attacked him again, and Halfdan
moved back into the main room.

As Freydis turned toward the door leading to
the courtyard, Hrolf entered the kitchen, the fire of battle in his
eyes.

“There you are, Freydis,” he called. “You are
the cause of this dispute. It is time for you to die.”

He raised his glittering battle-ax. Freydis
stood unmoving, seemingly fascinated by the weapon poised above her
head. Tola, seeing Hrolf’s intent, screamed. As Hrolf swung his ax
downward, Tola ran in front of him, pushing her mistress out of the
way and taking the blow Hrolf had meant for Freydis.

Suddenly Asmund was there, shouting. Hrolf
spun around, forgetting Freydis. Yelling a wild battle-cry, he
pursued Asmund into the main room.

Freydis stooped to be certain there was
nothing she could do to help Tola, then raced out the kitchen door,
heading for the barn.

“Lenora, follow me,” she cried.

Lenora caught the terrified Alara by the hand
and pulled her into the courtyard. Light from the open kitchen door
made a dim pathway across the darkness. A shadow blotted out part
of the light as another of Snorri’s men appeared with Ingvar in
pursuit. Seeing Lenora, Snorri’s man reached for her. Alara pushed
at him and he ran her through. Now Ingvar engaged the man, and they
moved off into the darkness, leaving Lenora alone.

Alara lay on the ground, bleeding heavily.
Lenora bent over her. Alara looked up, smiled, and closed her eyes.
Lenora knew without touching her that Alara was dead. Too many
people were dead or dying in this small space, and all for Norse
greed and cruelty. All for Snorri. Lenora drew a deep, shuddering
breath and stood up, covering her ears to shut out the sounds of
battle reverberating off the buildings edging the courtyard.

“Stop it!” she screamed, “Stop it! Oh, Erik,
where are you?”

A cluster of men, all arms and legs and
swords and shields, surged out of the door from the main room into
the courtyard. Freydis had disappeared. Lenora ran back into the
kitchen, through it, and then entered the main room by the serving
door. She was in time to see Hrolf turning from Holgar’s inert body
to face Erik.

Grimly the two men fought, swords whacking
against wooden shields, as Erik slowly backed Hrolf into a corner
until he could go no farther. Erik lifted his sword for the last
blow, took a step forward, and slipped in a puddle of blood. His
lame leg gave way as he lost his balance and went down. His sword,
knocked out of his hand by the impact, slid lazily across the floor
to stop at Lenora’s feet. Hrolf laughed and raised his own sword,
taking his time, relishing the moment.

Lenora snatched up Erik’s heavy blade in both
hands and ran forward. The sword felt light as a feather to her.
She knew what to do: three steps more and a slashing blow from
right to left, just as she had seen the men do at weapons practice
back at Thorkellshavn. But first she had to distract Hrolf from
Erik.

“Hrolf, kill me first!”

He saw her coming and leapt over Erik, who
caught at his ankle, unbalancing him. Hrolf spread his arms to
steady himself, moving his shield away from his body. It was the
opening Lenora needed.

So fierce was her anger at Hrolf that she
felt nothing as the sharp sword met his body. Hrolf crashed to the
floor.

“That’s Saxon revenge, you murdering
Norseman,” she screamed.

As the red mist before her eyes cleared a
little, the astonished face of Bjarni swam into view. He moved into
the room, sparing only a glance for Erik, who was now slowly
pulling himself to his feet.

“I see you need a woman to protect you,
cripple.”

“Are you afraid of a woman, Norseman?” Lenora
taunted, brandishing the sword at him.

Bjarni grimaced at the insult.

“Of no woman on earth, slave.”

“Well, you should be, murderer.” Holding the
sword in both hands, totally unconscious of its great weight in her
renewed fury, Lenora slashed at him with all her strength. The
blade barely nicked his side before Bjarni deflected it with his
shield. He jumped to the right and laughed at her.

Lenora turned a bit to face him, her back
toward the open door into the courtyard. She had forgotten about
Erik. Her attention was completely focused on Bjarni, whose sword
was now poised above her. Lenora felt no fear at all, only
excitement and rage.

An iron-strong arm circled Lenora’s waist
from behind, lifting her off her feet and carrying her through the
door and away from her opponent. Another arm slammed the door of
the house shut and bolted it, sealing Bjarni inside. Erik roared
with laughter as he half-carried, half-dragged her to his horse,
which was saddled and waiting thanks to Freydis’ quick work.

“Put me down,” Lenora yelled. “I’ll kill
Bjarni. Let me kill him. Erik, let me go.”

“Stop it, Lenora. Calm yourself.” She still
held his sword. He pried it out of her stiff fingers, then flung
her across the horse, stomach-down. “What a berserker you are. Are
you sure there’s no Norse blood in your veins? You fight almost as
well as a Danish woman.”

“What do you mean, almost? Let me up.
Erik
!”

He paid no attention to her outraged cries.
Mounting quickly, he rode at a canter along the straight road
running through the center of Hedeby to the shore.

“Erik... where... is... Halfdan? Where is
Freydis?” Lenora gasped. The jolting she got as the horse ran was
making her feel very ill, and all she could see was the road
beneath the horse’s hooves.

“They will meet us. Be quiet, Lenora. We
don’t want to be followed, and you are too noisy.”

Those who had survived Snorri’s attack
reassembled inside Holgar’s warehouse by the edge of Hadeby Noor.
Erik rode right through the big open door, and Halfdan shut it
behind him.

When Erik lifted her off his horse, Lenora
found to her astonishment that she was trembling so violently she
could hardly stand, and tears were running down her cheeks.

“It happens sometimes after a battle,” Erik
said gently. He kept his arm about her until she was seated on a
bale of Holgar’s goods.

“Snorri and his men have withdrawn,” Halfdan
told them. “He ran away.”

“Make no mistake about him.” Freydis was
busily binding up a gash on Asmund’s left arm. “Snorri will come
looking for us again, Erik, and soon.”

“I know. Tomorrow you are all to leave Hedeby
as we had planned. I will stay out of sight in this building. After
dark I’ll sneak out to Rodfos’ ship and hide there. With any luck,
Snorri won’t find us.”

“I won’t let you remain here alone.” Halfdan
was adamant. ”I am staying with you.”

“And I,” Freydis said. “This trouble is
partly over me. I can fight, too.”

“And I,” Lenora added.

“You are going to Limfjord, Freydis. I cannot
rest easy until you are safe from Snorri and Gunhilde. As for you,
my former slave,” Erik’s green eyes twinkled as he looked at
Lenora, “I know you can fight like a man when you want. I thank you
for your help earlier. You saved my life, and I am grateful. I can
no longer order you, but I ask you to go with Freydis. I want to
know you are safe.”

“Send the women with Asmund and Ingvar,”
Halfdan suggested. “I will stay with you tomorrow in case there is
any trouble, and when you are safely at sea, I will ride after
them.”

They finally settled on Halfdan’s plan. With
their nerves stretched tightly, sleep was impossible, but they
tried to rest in anticipation of a long ride the next day.

Lenora had finally gained some control over
the tremors that had shaken her limbs, but every time she thought
of Tola or Alara, her stomach heaved. She resolutely put out of her
mind the gruesome sights of that evening, and the memory of
Snorri’s taunting voice, but she could not forget the fear that had
stabbed at her heart when she had thought Hrolf would kill Erik.
The idea of a world in which Erik did not exist was unbearable, and
so, instinctively, she had acted to save him. But equally
intolerable to her was the thought of caring for the man who had
let Edwina die.

Love a Norseman? Not Lenora, daughter of
Cedric! Cold pride came to her rescue, telling her the sooner she
was parted from Erik, the better for her. No, she would not even
weep when he left her. Let him go to Miklagard and his Greek
Eirena. She, Lenora, would go to Limfjord as he wanted her to do,
and then back to East Anglia, and once she was there, she would
think no more of Erik the Far-Traveler. If she were fortunate, she
would never have to think of, or see, a bloodthirsty Norseman again
as long as she lived.

Among the goods in the warehouse they found
woolen fabrics that Holgar had planned to sell. These they tore or
cut into warm cloaks to replace the outer garments they had left at
Holgar’s house and scarves to cover their heads and faces until
they were safely gone from Hedeby.

They delayed their departure so Asmund,
wrapped in brown wool, could hurry out to buy food for their
journey. There was no sign of Snorri.

“He’s waiting for something,” Erik said. “I’m
sure he has a plan. I wonder what it is?”

They left the warehouse late in the day.
Through Freydis’ quick thinking, they had been able to bring all
three of their horses from Holgar’s barn.

“Ride double and leave one horse for me,”
Halfdan said. “Go safely, all of you.”

Freydis’ fingers lingered an extra moment in
his big hand. Lenora turned away from them, saddened by the
expression in Halfdan’s eyes.

Erik kissed Lenora lightly on the cheek
before helping her to mount behind Ingvar.

“Be happy, Lenora. I wish you well.” That was
all he said. Lenora, her feelings locked behind stiff pride, was
glad he had not tried to embrace her. He opened the warehouse door
and they rode out.

It took only a short time to pick their way
through the streets of Hedeby. Soon they were out of the town,
following the Danevirke westward until it met the Haervej, the old
military road that would take them north to Limfjord. As far as
they could tell, they were not followed.

The dusk deepened, throwing long shadows.

“We will travel until it is too dark to see
anything,” Ingvar said. “We want to get as far away from Hedeby as
we can before we stop.”