Viking Passion (25 page)

“Thank you,” Lenora said to Rodfos, one hand
on his arm.

“Good luck, Freydis. We won’t meet again.”
Rodfos’ huge hand covered hers for just a moment.

When their business was finally concluded,
the men separated, Torgard and Rodfos going off together. Lenora
watched them until they were out of sight.

“You will have your way after all, Lenora.
You and Halfdan will have to go with me.” Erik was frowning at her.
“What did you tell Rodfos that made him bring that man to us?”

“I told him Sven had followed us from
Denmark, that if he married me, he would beat me all the time. I
made no changes in the story we first told him, except to let him
believe Sven is the one who wants me.”

Lenora was still angry with Erik. She decided
not to tell him what she had learned about Rodfos that day, or why
he had helped them. Instead, she wiped out the cooking cauldron and
began to pack their supply of food for the journey south.

The journey from Aldeigjuborg to Kiev forever
after lay in Lenora’s memory as a confused jumble of painful
impressions.

The trip did not begin too badly, as they
sailed and rowed south on one river to the lake where Holmgard lay,
then, a day later, moved southward again on another river. Lenora
felt oppressed by the thick, dark forests surrounding them, and
lonely in the vast, unpeopled land, but she could bear that so long
as they were heading toward Miklagard. Neither she nor her two
companions made any protest about the pace Torgard set. The faster
they moved, the farther away from Snorri and Sven they would
be.

Once on their way they quickly dropped the
fiction that Lenora was Erik’s sister. She was relieved to have her
own name back again.

The trouble began with their first portage.
They paused while the men felled trees, using the trimmed trunks as
rollers upon which they dragged Torgard’s two boats for miles
across land to the next river. The path through the forest had been
cleared by others who traveled that way before them, and they even
found a few tree trunks left ready for their use, but it was slow,
hard work, made worse by swarms of mosquitoes and the sudden advent
of humid heat. Erik and Halfdan willingly joined the other men in
their labors, while Lenora did menial jobs, cooked for the men, and
nursed their inevitable injuries.

The problem was Torgard. He wanted to travel
even faster than they had been doing. He explained to them that
because of dangerous rapids in the river south of Kiev, the trip to
the Euxine Sea and Miklagard could be made only in early
summer.

“After the ice has broken the spring floods
begin,” Torgard said. “At that time the river is too dangerous for
travel, but as the waters recede, the traders of Kiev assemble
their loaded boats at Vitaholm, just downriver from Kiev, and then,
when the water level has dropped to a certain point, they sail
south together. They always travel in large groups for safety from
the Khazars, who live on the steppe south of Kiev, and who will
attack anyone on the river. The rapid flow of the water makes
travel faster and carries the boats over many of the rocks and
shallow spots. It is still a difficult journey, with portages
around cataracts and rapids, but it is easier at midsummer than at
any other time of year. For the man who successfully takes his
merchandise to the sea, the rewards are great.”

Torgard was determined to reach Kiev in time
to sail with the merchant fleet that summer.

“Otherwise I must wait until next year,” he
said. “I have never been to Miklagard before. I have always sold my
goods in Kiev, to others who carried them south and reaped the
profit. This year I will go myself. I expect to return a rich man.
For that to happen, we must reach Kiev before the fleet sails.
Unfortunately, we are already late because the ice on the northern
rivers did not melt soon enough and I was delayed in
Aldeigjuborg.”

He drove them mercilessly. He scarcely gave
them time to sleep or eat. The tired men grew surly and accidents
multiplied.

Only Lenora never grumbled. She knew none of
the men was happy at her presence, and she was afraid if she did
complain they would simply leave her behind.

The first portage successfully accomplished,
they enjoyed the brief respite provided by river travel before
transferring to land once more. The second portage took ten days
and was much more difficult than the first. One man lost a leg in
an accident and soon died of infection.

Erik, as tired as everyone else and convinced
they were far enough away from Snorri to feel safe at last,
quarreled with Torgard, insisting they stop for a few days.

“The men will work better if they are
rested,” Erik argued. “Let them sleep a bit and then hunt for a
day. Fresh meat will make us all stronger. You won’t make any
profit if we are too weak to take your boats to Kiev.”

Torgard gave them one day.

The damp wilderness on either side of the
river teamed with animal life. The hunting party returned with
ducks, squirrels, and a small deer. They ate well that night, and
Torgard grudgingly provided a barrel of mead from his stores.

After the meal, Erik took Lenora’s hand and
pulled her into the trees. They lay on a bed of pine needles that
was only slightly damp, and he took her into his arms.

“Aren’t you glad I came with you, instead of
going back to Denmark?” she teased, holding him close, enjoying the
feeling of his strong masculine frame against her own softer body.
At his touch, the yearning had begun somewhere deep inside her. She
forgot their recent quarrels in anticipation of the pleasure they
would give each other. It had been so long since they had lain like
this, back at Thorkellshavn. Her lips parted in expectation as she
moved against him eagerly, wanting him.

“No,” he whispered into her hair, one hand
reaching down to raise her skirt, “no, I am not glad you are here.
You should be safe at Limfjord by now. Then I wouldn’t have to
worry about you.

Lenora struck at him so suddenly that he let
her go in surprise. She rolled out of his arms and away from him
and knelt on the ground. She felt as though he had thrown her into
the cold river.

“If you don’t want me here,” her throat was
tight as she forced the words out, “then don’t try to make love to
me. I am no longer yours to use as you once did, without my
consent. In case you have forgotten, you freed me, before
witnesses.”

“I haven’t forgotten. But I want you, and I
know you want me. Come here.”

“No.” She got to her feet, nimbly
sidestepping his reach when he would have pulled her down beside
him again. In a state of angry confusion, she started back toward
the campfire. She did not understand her own feelings. She wanted
Erik, had wanted him badly for weeks, but she could not lie with
him that night. He wanted a woman, but any woman would do. Lenora
wanted Erik to want her, and her alone.

She wrapped her frayed woolen cloak around
herself and lay down by the fire. She saw Erik return, fill a cup
with ale, and drain it at a gulp. His expression was stormy behind
his thickly grown beard.

I don’t care how angry he is, she thought.
I’m not his slave any more.

Torgard roused them at first light. The
heavy, seemlingly endless labor began again. Slowly, painfully, the
boats were dragged on the tree trunk follers, a few feet at a time,
over the swampy ground between the two rivers.

“There,” Torgard cried late one afternoon,
pointing to a wide band of silver just visible between the trees.
“The Dneiper River at last.”

The next morning they launched the boats and
headed downriver to Kiev. Torgard urged them on, resenting each
night’s darkness when they were forced to draw the boats to the
side of the river to wait for daylight, waking them again before
dawn so they could set off as soon as it was light enough to
see.

They were all reeling with exhaustion by the
time they arrived at Kiev. When Torgard learned the yearly flotilla
of boats bound for Miklagard had already left, there was no
controlling him.

“You delayed us,” he raged at Erik. “If you
hadn’t made us stop and rest, we would have been here in time. I
did you a kindness, letting you travel under my protection, and now
you have ruined me. You’ll pay for this.”

Erik laughed and walked away from the angry
man.

“What shall we do now?” Halfdan asked. “We
can’t stay in Kiev for an entire year, waiting for Snorri and Sven
to find us.”

“We won’t have to.” Erik was undaunted.
“Despite what Torgard says, there are traders who leave later in
the season. We will just have to find one and offer him our
services. The trip is more difficult because the river is lower,
and more dangerous because the Khazars are more likely to attack
small parties of travelers, but it can be done.”

Once more they pitched Halfdan ‘s little tent
on the outskirts of a trading town. Erik set out to find someone,
anyone, who was going to Miklagard and could use two strong
fighting men as guards.

Lenora was amazed by the change in Erik. The
farther they traveled from Thorkellshavn, the more confident and
self-assured he became. He stood taller and straighter, and even
his limp became less noticeable. He moved easily among the mixed
population of Kiev, speaking the Danish tongue, or Greek, or even
Latin when necessary. His brilliant smile flashed often as he
talked with strangers.

He had made no further attempt to possess
her. He treated her with casual indifference. She told herself she
did not care.

The Rus, most of whom came from Sweden, had
built Kiev on the western bank of the river, on a bluff safely
above the high waters of the spring floods, and well-fortified
against attack. Below the town, sandy beaches fringed the islands
that lay in mid-river, and the dark green forest grew almost down
to the water’s edge. Sturdy log houses with oak fences around them
attested to the prosperity of the Northmen who had settled this
wild land.

When Erik had sailed to Miklagard seven years
earlier, it was in the force assembled by Askold and Dir, the joint
rulers of Kiev. His bravery and shrewd intelligence had brought the
young Dane to Askold’s attention during the expedition. Erik also
visited Askold on his way back to Denmark three years after the
disastrous storm that had shattered his leg and ruined Askold’s
hopes of conquering the Great City. Erik’s friendship with Basil
Panopoulos had helped Askold in his secondary goal of establishing
regular trade with the Greeks. Now, leaving Lenora to attend to
their campsite, Erik and Halfdan went to call upon Askold, hoping
he could direct them to a merchant traveling south.

With the tent set up and some of the goods
from their rapidly shrinking bundles bartered for food, Lenora
tried to repair the ravages of the difficult journey from
Aldeigjuborg. She washed her face and hands and combed her hair.
She really wanted a bath, having grown used to that luxury while at
Thorkellshavn, but Erik had warned her not to go away from the tent
unless he or Halfdan accompanied her. Kiev was a dangerous place
for a young woman alone.

The linen shift and woolen over-garment she
had worn since leaving Denmark were filthy and tattered. Lenora
pulled from her scanty pile of belongings the blue-green silk
caftan she had found in Holgar’s warehouse just before leaving
Hedeby. It was badly wrinkled and had a water spot on one sleeve,
but she put it on. In the damp, early-summer heat, the light fabric
was like a caress against her skin.

“That’s very pretty, Lenora.”

She whirled to see Torgard watching her. She
wondered how long he had been standing there, just outside the
tent.

“Are you all alone?” he asked.

“Erik will be back soon. Did you want to
speak with him?”

“Yes, but it can wait. You should have a gold
necklace to go with your new dress.” Torgard’s eyes held hers,
making her uncomfortable. “I have one among my wares. Would you
like to come and see it?”

“I can’t go with you. Erik told me to stay by
the tent.”

“Do you always do what he says? He treats you
like a slave.”

This was so close to Lenora’s own sentiment
about Erik’s present attitude toward her that she forgot her
dislike of Torgard for a moment and smiled at her visitor.

“I am no man’s slave,” she said.

“Then you are free to come with me. You could
at least look at the necklace.”

“I really shouldn’t.”

“It isn’t far from here. You will be back
before Erik returns from Askold’s hall. He will never know you
disobeyed him. I can show you the marketplace as we go. Would you
like to see the silks that come from far to the east? Some of them
are even more beautiful than the robe you are wearing.”

“Well...” Lenora hesitated.

“Are you frightened? I will protect you.
After you have seen the necklace, I will bring you safely back
here, and then I’ll talk to Erik. I may have found some traders who
will let you travel with them to Miklagard.”

“That’s wonderful.” Torgard seemed to have
forgotten his anger against Erik, and after what he had just said,
Lenora did not want to remind him of it. Perhaps he wasn’t as
unpleasant a person as she had thought. “I can only be away for a
little while. I’m supposed to watch over our belongings.”

“I understand, Lenora.” Torgard took her arm
and guided her toward the bustle of the marketplace. Lenora soon
forgot her initial reluctance to go with him and became absorbed by
the sights and sounds around her. Kiev was larger than Aldeigjuborg
or Hedeby, its market filled with goods more exotic and bountiful
than Lenora had ever seen before. She paid little attention to the
direction in which Torgard was leading her until he paused to open
the door of a square log house.