Passion's Fury (Viking's Fury Book 3) Page 11

  “Did I invite you inside this tent, Birger?”

  The man looked at Thorolf first, then his gaze wandered to Runa.

  “Turn around, Captain Birger,” Thorolf commanded, unashamed of his nakedness. “Walk out of this shelter and forget what you saw. I will join you momentarily.”

  “Aye.” Birger departed with haste.

  Thorolf turned to Runa. She’d managed to pull a fur about her shoulders, but knew the stranger had seen too much of her. “Who is he?”

  “One of the soldiers the high priest sold to me.”

  “A thrall?”

  “No. A sell-sword.”

  “Can he be trusted?”

  “As much as the next man with no chieftain or home.” Thorolf closed the distance between them, cupped her face between both hands, and kissed her forehead tenderly. “Don’t worry, Lady. If he talks, I’ll carve his tongue out. Now bathe and dress. I will send a guard to accompany you to the fire. We must decide what our next move is.”

  “Can we go home?”

  He shook his head. “No. I don’t want to endanger anyone unnecessarily. I’ve secured quarters for us at the temple. You’ll be safe.”

  “How long do we have to stay away from the Trondelag?” she asked.

  “As long as it takes to rid the world of Jarl Skrymir and claim his mountain stronghold as my own.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  After Olvir shot his father in the eye with an arrow, he fled the great hall and sought refuge in the forest. No one tried to stop his escape, in fact, no one reacted to his actions whatsoever. Maybe shock had silenced the usually capable guards and smug guests his sire surrounded himself with. It didn’t matter anymore. Jarl Otkel was dead.

  “I am a wanted man now, Rolf. Surely there’s a bounty on my head already,” Olvir said. Only a fool committed murder in front of fifty people.

  Rolf poked at the dwindling campfire with a stick, mixing the ashes and kindling like stew. “Account for your actions, Boy. Don’t run away, it only makes you look guilty.”

  Olvir didn’t understand why his father’s favorite captain had followed him into the wilderness. Appreciative of the man’s company, he wrestled with the need to ask. “Go back, Rolf, don’t risk your life by staying with me.”

  “Do you know how long I waited for you to challenge your father? To end the continuous humiliation you suffered at his hands? I can scarce blame you for killing him. Nor will anyone who witnessed it.”

  “It was not an honorable course.”

  “Perhaps not,” the captain said. “But brave for the boy I’ve known.”

  Ashamed, Olvir stared at the ground. “If you haven’t noticed, I am no longer a boy.”

  “Until last night you were.”

  He raised his head. “My age says different.”

  Rolf tapped his right temple with his fingers. “The body matters little if the mind lags behind.”

  “You speak like a scholar, not a warrior.”

  “I spent more time listening as a youth. I wield ax and sword for a living. There are a hundred men to replace me if I fall. But how many men can read and write? Speak as many languages as you? Negotiate with strangers and make peace? You are meant to take your rightful place as the next jarl.”

  “I’ve been the butt of my father’s cruel jokes for too long. His men contributed to my misery. Laughing at me, beating me, questioning my manhood at every turn. You are the only exception, Rolf. How can you expect me to return and ask those same men to pledge allegiance to me? To let me rule over them. I can’t even win the bride I want. She was smart enough to recognize the fool I am years ago. My only choice is to seek sanctuary at the temple and make arrangements to return to Northumbria.”

  Suddenly Olvir regretted not living by the sword. The written word couldn’t save a man’s life like a sharp ax and strong arm. “I am not worthy of my father’s title. Nor do I want it.”

  “Truly?” Rolf stood. “You’d let your family legacy disappear with your sire? You prefer living outside like an animal over the comfort of your home?”

  “I believe I have some distant cousins somewhere in this country. Let power be transferred to that line of my family.”

  Rolf rejected his suggestion with a wave of his hand. “The gods will choose the next jarl, not you.”

  “Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “I’d still rather take my chances with the high priest. Besides, I have no dedicated protectors. If I show my face again, someone will kill me to avenge my father.”

  The captain patted the hilt of his sword. “And what do you think I am?”

  “I don’t know, Captain. A bigger dolt than I?”

  Rolf chuckled. “Give me the wineskin.”

  Olvir gladly turned it over to his only friend in the world. “What I would give to relive the past.” Memories of his mother filled his mind then. Thank God it was dark amongst the trees. Rolf would never see the tears in his eyes. “I’d pay closer attention to my good teachers. Especially the master swordsman.”

  “Despite the pain?” Rolf questioned. “Do you recall how many times I lifted you out of the dust because you were angry at the pain you had to endure at swordplay? I’ve never seen a boy get so mad.”

  Olvir let himself smile. “Yes, I’d even accept the pain.”

  “And what of the girl you love?”

  “Lady Runa?” Her silky dark hair and green eyes were unforgettable. “I’d be the man she deserved.”

  The captain stomped over to where he sat and gripped Olvir by the collar, slowly lifting him to his feet. Olvir had no choice but to meet his gaze. “Listen to me. The longer you stay away, the easier it will be for someone to usurp power. The sooner you press your right to the seat, the better your chances at winning your bride. A man with a title, lands, and power usually gets what he wants.” He gave Olvir a little shake before he let go of his tunic.

  Could he dare dream of such a life? They’d call him Jarl Olvir. But his name reminded him too much of his father. Should he change it to something more impressive? Jarl Agdon? Or Jarl Haakon? The true reward would be taking Runa to wife. Their children would be beautiful. Strong. Intelligent. Sought after. “Stop filling my head with nonsense, Rolf. I command you to eat and drink your fill, then to get on your horse and ride back to the Trondelag. Tell whoever asks, you could not find me. No one will doubt your word.”

  “Forgive me, milord.” Captain Rolf knelt in front of him. “This one time I must disobey a direct order. But from this moment onward, I pledge my sword and life to you. Jarl Olvir.”

  The grim reality of Olvir’s deed was forgotten as this celebrated warrior knelt before him, offering to serve him, to give his life in exchange for Olvir’s headship. He tentatively reached for the captain’s head. But before he touched it, his hand shook uncontrollably. “You mistake me for a lord, Rolf. Get up.”

  The captain didn’t speak or move.

  “If I only had half your strength and courage…” Olvir observed as he finally laid his hand on Rolf’s head. The man’s loyalty inspired Olvir, gave him renewed hope in himself and the possibility that he might make a fair jarl. “I accept your fealty, Rolf the Gray. No man has served my family better and no man ever will. Help me keep my jarldom and I will make you a rich man.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  A messenger had arrived in the middle of the night, forcing the captain of the night watch to wake Jarl Roald and his wife. From there, everything went downhill. Though Runa had survived an attack by Jarl Skrymir, many were dead. Thorolf had been injured. And Prince Axel was missing—likely left in the woods to rot.

  “Nothing will quell my rage, Eva. Nothing.”

  She held their infant son to her breast, trying to quiet him. As for his twin sister, she could sleep through anything. “I caution you to think clearly before you act my beloved husband,” she warned. “Your temper…”

  “Is justified in this situation.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Completely. But remember how
deservedly you dealt with my brother once your anger subsided some. Instead of taking his life…”

  “Skrymir is a different matter altogether,” he said darkly, trying to control the tone of his voice. Eva had been nothing but a source of excellent advice. “There are no blood ties with this man. No obligations. I see this attack as a declaration of war. I will break him.” He pounded his fist against his palm. “I welcomed that bastard into our home.”

  Eva placed their son in his basket next to the bed, then joined Roald by the table. She cradled his hand in hers. “I think you are missing the most important thing.”

  “What?”

  “Runa and Captain Thorolf are alive and safe.”

  “Alive, yes. Safe?” He didn’t believe it. Not with Skrymir roaming freely in the northlands, having the advantage of being so close to his home. “It seems my sister’s wish has been granted.”

  Eva gave him a sideways look.

  “The temple,” he pointed out, irritated. “She made it to the bloody temple after all.”

  “Not by choice.”

  “Maybe not. But I swear the girl conspired with Odin himself.”

  “I am sure the last thing on Runa’s mind is swearing the oath of a temple maiden.”

  Roald laughed. “After everything she’s been through? How can I convince the girl marriage is an honorable pursuit after she almost got killed for visiting the home of a prospective husband? Even if she lied to us about it.”

  Someone knocked on the door.

  “Enter,” Roald called.

  Konal stood in the entryway, an ominous expression on his face. “Let me lead the guards northward. I will bring our sister home.”

  “No. I will go myself. I expect you to stay here and protect our holdings. Preserve our family. If anything happens to me, you will become jarl until my son comes of age.”

  “Goddamnit, Roald.” Konal crossed the threshold and slammed the door shut. “What interest do you have in Runa beyond seeing her advantageously wed?”

  “Don’t question me in front of my wife.”

  Konal puffed out his chest. “Don’t pretend to love our sister suddenly.”

  Eva looked between them. “Stop it at once. Konal, don’t ever doubt my husband’s tender feelings for your sister. Though they agree on nothing, he loves her. And as for you…” She turned to Roald. “You’ll have no one left to serve you if you treat them so harshly.”

  Roald swallowed the lump in his throat. “I need you stay here and look after our families. There’s no one I trust more.”

  His brother’s shoulders relaxed some. “Promise me you’ll deal gently with Runa.”

  “You have my word.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Another thing,” Roald started. “Assemble the men while I ready for the journey.”

  Konal didn’t answer, but left with urgency.

  Eva sat on the end of the bed and covered her face with both hands. Roald couldn’t ignore the sniffling sound she made and went to her side. Tipping her chin upward, he saw the tears in her eyes.

  “Why do you weep?”

  “For you. Our children. Runa and Thorolf.”

  “But we are well, Eva.”

  “Are we?” She pulled her knees under her chin. “Well? Or just existing?”

  “Now isn’t the time for a philosophical discussion.”

  “Why not?”

  “Are the spirits talking to you again?”

  “They never cease,” she informed him.

  He scratched his chin. “What say them now?” he asked, walking to his trunk and selecting his thickest braies. Full armor was required for this quest. “Dire warning? Words of wisdom for a brash Viking who wants to spill blood?”

  “Spill blood, Jarl Roald,” she said in that voice too familiar to him when the spirits possessed his wife’s mind. “Only, spill the right blood.”

  Those words stopped him short and he spun around. “Explain yourself.”

  Eva rubbed her eyes, then stared at him blankly. “Explain what, my love?”

  Unsure he’d ever adjust to her episodes, he smiled. “Nothing, Eva. Go back to sleep.” He focused on getting dressed again, swearing by the nine realms that he’d secure his sister, reward Thorolf for his dedication, and destroy Skrymir, even if it meant dying.

  *

  Runa couldn’t believe the extent of the temple complex and how many people it took to run it. Captain Harald had volunteered to be her bodyguard as long as she stayed here and was giving her a tour of the grounds.

  “A thousand people live here?” she asked, admiring the women working in the weaving room, twenty looms in use.

  “Aye,” he answered proudly. “The wool and tapestries made here help finance the rest of our operations. The northern lords generously donated the lands we occupy, giving us the freedom to act as an independent kingdom. The high priest and the council are the authority in this place, Lady. Much like your brother, Jarl Roald, they appoint men and women to run various ventures that benefit our people.”

  “I never knew.”

  “My very home is on the edge of these lands, the place I will retire to in a few years.”

  “Do you own the property?”

  “In almost every sense of the word, though I don’t hold a deed.”

  “How many northern jarls are there?” she inquired as the captain escorted her to the dye room, where a dozen women were busily mixing vats of purple and green tinctures with long paddles.

  “Sixteen.”

  “I’m afraid that number has shrunk.”

  “Yes,” Harald agreed. “Unless we find Prince Axel alive and well, we will only have fourteen.”

  “I am sure my brother has been generous with your cause.”

  “The Trondelag is a thriving region,” he said. “Home to some of the greatest warriors. Many of our guards come from there. As for silver and gold, I know little of who fills the great priest’s coffers.”

  “But they are full.” How couldn’t it be so? Though a quarter of the size of her home, the accommodations here, the smokehouses, storerooms, even the bathhouse, were more lavish than anything she’d ever seen. “May we visit the maidens next?”

  Harald cleared his throat, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “Outsiders aren’t permitted in their quarters.”

  “What do you mean? Men? That I understand. But surely a woman…”

  The captain pulled her out of the dye house and away from anyone who might overhear him. “Yes, women of good reputation are encouraged to visit the temple maidens whenever possible. The priests rely on their positive reports to encourage the next generation of girls to come here. However…” He looked about before he continued. “This must stay between us, Lady Runa.”

  “Of course.” He’d piqued her curiosity.

  “Captain Thorolf forbade me from taking you there. He mentioned something about a childhood obsession and swore if I didn’t keep you away, he’d cut off any support for this place.”

  Runa’s hands went to her hips, utterly disgusted by Thorolf’s exaggeration. “Such impertinence cannot be tolerated.”

  “Perhaps you’d like to visit the stables next?”

  “Why should I care about horses when I can visit the virtuous women who serve Allfather unfailingly?”

  “Please,” Harald pleaded. “I gave my solemn oath. Captain Thorolf doesn’t strike me as the kind of man to forgive anything too quickly.”

  Runa stared off in the distance, admiring the creek that meandered through the property, providing fresh water and a pretty place to sit underneath the many trees. She must convince Harald to help her. “Midday is upon us, Captain. Aren’t you accustomed to breaking bread now? If you’ll point me in the right direction, we can part, and I will find my own way to the maidens.”

  Harald scratched at the side of his nose, thinking. “The captain was right about one thing.”

  “Oh?”

  “He warned me about your craftiness, Lady. But how could I den
y you? You remind me too much of my own daughters.”

  Runa smiled at the compliment. “I’d like to meet them later.”

  “An honor we’d never forget,” he said kindly. “Follow the footpath northward. Around the altar stones on the side of the temple. Yards away you’ll find a freestanding stone house. Odin’s daughters live there.”

  Overjoyed by the captain’s willingness to aid her, she stood on her toes and planted a friendly kiss on his cheek. “May the gods bless you, Captain Harald.” Then she departed, eager to meet the maidens.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The better part of the day had been spent searching tirelessly east of the temple for any traces of Skrymir. By the time the pale winter sun had started to fade, Thorolf remembered what day it was. The first full moon of the month, making it a sacred feast night—Thurseblot—in honor of Midgard’s great protector, Thor. He rode hard through the snow to reach the temple grounds and find Runa.

  Distracted by the events of the last week, Thorolf wouldn’t miss a chance to celebrate with Runa. Having been to the temple as a boy to celebrate this very holiday, he could recall every detail. Runa would enjoy it.

  As he trotted closer to the stables, he spotted Runa and Captain Harald through the trees. They seemed to be engaged in an animated conversation. Thorolf dismounted and parted the branches of the closest pine to get a better look. He huffed out a misted breath, wondering why the captain had pointed toward the temple. What he saw next made him suspicious. Runa kissed Harald’s cheek and ambled away, looking happy—too happy for comfort.

  He tied his mount to a nearby post and followed Runa. Then it hit him. The girl had worked her magic on the captain. She was headed for the cottage where the maidens were housed. Something he’d made Harald swear to keep Runa from doing. Damn her ability to talk a man into doing whatever she wanted.

  Able to take a shortcut through the trees, he blocked her way up the hill and waited for her to catch up.

  When she finally did, he didn’t miss the iciness of her stare. “Are you following me, Captain?”