Passion's Fury (Viking's Fury Book 3) Page 15

  Minutes later, the girls returned with two crates. Runa pretended she could picture herself dressed as a happy bride, surrounded by loving family members and friends. She envisioned her mother, father, and brothers, all smiles and good wishes. But it would never be. With her parents dead and Roald sure to punish her for breaking his trust, she knew she’d never be welcomed in the Trondelag again.

  Then there was Thorolf. What would her brother do to him? It didn’t matter her future husband out-ranked him or possessed more power. He’d broken a sacred oath to her family, regardless of the fact he’d sworn allegiance to her before they left for Prince Axel’s home.

  “Do you like it, milady?” One of the girls interrupted her thoughts.

  Runa looked up and immediately admired the spring green gown the girl was holding. Made of silk and embroidered with silver and gold thread, the bodice was covered in delicate blossoms resembling little bells. The second girl showed her a pair of matching slippers and Runa smiled and nodded with approval.

  “These come from Northumbria,” Haldana said. “Part of a significant estate that was plundered and claimed by one of the chieftains north of here. The other box contains a veil and silver chains meant to go about your waist. Come, do try it on now. If we need to make any alterations, they must be started tonight.”

  Wanting to be kind, Runa did as she asked, allowing the maids to stand her up and strip her clothes off. The soft material of the new gown settled over her head and shoulders like air, the length falling to her feet.

  “Now the shoes,” one of the girls said, kneeling in front of her and sliding the first slipper on her left foot.

  “How do you feel?” Haldana asked, stepping back and eyeing her head-to-toe.

  Runa gazed down at herself, running her palms down the skirt. “I’ve never worn something so fine.”

  “Few have,” Haldana said. “There is more, chosen for you by Prince Thorolf.”

  When had her betrothed found time to select a new wardrobe for her? It made her feel warm all over, that he’d take such special care of her. “If only I could see myself.”

  “You shall.” Haldana took her hand and directed her to a sub-chamber.

  Runa had never seen a higher quality looking glass before. Rectangular in shape and hanging on the wall, she could take in half her body. If she stepped back several feet, nearly her full form became visible in the pounded metal.

  “This gown is a perfect fit, made for you, Lady Runa.”

  Admittedly, Haldana was right. Runa admired her reflection, liking how the light-green silk complimented her dark hair and the green of her eyes. “Thank you,” she said, appreciative of how well she was being treated. “Is there time to see the other gowns? To try them on?”

  Haldana gave her a big smile. “Nothing soothes a woman’s woes as well as a pretty gown.”

  “I am sorry for being so difficult, Haldana. If I appear ungrateful…”

  “Please.” The woman squeezed her hand. “Before we were pledged to Odin, we were the daughters of men, too. Kings, princes, jarls, and wealthy merchants. Our sires gave us away like livestock to pay debts or to be rid of us because they remarried and their new wives didn’t want any reminders of their husbands’ past lives. Some of us mourn the loss of our families, our freedom. Others celebrate what we have discovered here—a new family—sisters forever.”

  “If you only knew…”

  “How desperately you wanted to serve Odin? To become one of us?”

  “How did you know?”

  “When you visited us the other day, I recognized the look in your eyes, though you tried to hide it. I came here ten years ago. My father and mother wanted to keep me, but I refused to listen and begged day and night. After a year, they gave me their blessing. My brother escorted me here. I haven’t seen my family since.”

  “In ten years?” It pained Runa to think about never seeing Konal and Silvia, Haakon, and Eva, her beloved sister-in-law, again. What about the children? She adored her nephews and niece. Runa studied her new friend’s pain-filled expression. “I’m a fool. Naïve. How silly I must look to a woman like you.”

  “Never. Odin has blessed me, Runa. My family has prospered. Though I am not highborn, my father has earned enough gold to secure a noble woman for my eldest brother to marry. Their children will be titled. My brother called lord.” Haldana stepped closer and whispered. “Though I am forbidden to marry, I have found companionship here.”

  “With a priest?” she asked dumbly.

  Haldana’s pretty brows knitted together. “Dear Odin, no. The priests don’t know what to do with their pikks beyond taking a piss,” she laughed. “My lover is a commander in the temple guard. In charge of the men who defend our house.”

  Runa enjoyed the way Haldana’s eyes lit up when she talked about her man. She desperately hoped her love for Thorolf showed on her face. “Are you in love?”

  “Aye,” she admitted. “Nothing can dissuade me from being with him.”

  “Not even…” Runa stopped herself from saying death.

  “The threat of being sacrificed?”

  “Aye,” Runa said, ashamed for even thinking it.

  “My father paid a fortune to keep me from being part of the annual lottery. But half of the girls in this house are not as fortunate. The gods must be compensated for their continued blessings.”

  “So it is true?”

  “A virgin’s blood is the purest.”

  Runa cared for this woman—knew she deserved a better life. “Tis unfortunate men aren’t offered to the gods as often.”

  “They are too valuable to sacrifice. Only every nine years at the Thing. But those men volunteer, guaranteed a seat at Odin’s feast table in Valhalla.”

  Runa embraced her new friend, hoping there was a way she could help her. “I’m ready to see the gowns my betrothed picked for me.”

  “Very well. If you’ll wait here, I’ll get them.”

  Runa waited until she was alone to thank the gods for keeping her from making a fatal mistake. Perhaps Odin had nothing to do with it. Maybe her mother, or even her sire who hadn’t showed her much love when he was alive, had interceded on her behalf and given her a better future than she would have chosen for herself. Whatever the reason, she would always remember her good fortune and strive to keep any girl from choosing a life as a temple maiden.

  Chapter Thirty

  Seated in a private solar designated for visiting nobles, Thorolf awaited the arrival of the captains the high priest had summoned from Borg. Harald stood at his side, the obvious choice as his new personal adviser. Thorolf would offer to take his family north and provide him with a home and plot of land, as Runa had wanted. There were so many decisions to make, people to meet, trust to be won.

  The door opened and Thorolf stood.

  The high priest, followed by his attendants and five men dressed in traditional Borg regalia entered the room. Years couldn’t erase Thorolf’s memories of home. His father’s men wore black leather tunics with red stitching forming the cloudberry blossoms that dominated the landscape in Borg.

  “Prince Thorolf,” the high priest spoke. “Your captains have just arrived. I offered them food and drink, but they refused and insisted on seeing you immediately.”

  Thorolf nodded. Why put off the inevitable? Either these brave men would welcome him as their lord or they’d reject him. His gaze wandered to one of the five, an exceptionally tall man with a copper-colored beard and icy eyes. There was no mistaking the identity of the older man. “Dreng?” He stepped forward. “Is it you?”

  The warrior cocked his head, taking in Thorolf. “Depends who asks, Boy.”

  “Thorolf.” His old teacher hadn’t changed much, a streak of gray in his long curls and deeper lines around his serious eyes. “I have waited for this moment.”

  Dreng dropped to his knee. “Prince Thorolf. We have waited over a decade to be reunited.”

  The other soldiers did the same. “Prince Thorolf,” th
ey chorused, pounding their fists against their chests, then kneeling before him.

  As his father would have done, Thorolf stood before the first and rested his hand on his head. “Etzel, Odin bless you for your show of loyalty.”

  Etzel gazed up at him. “My sword is yours, King Thorolf.”

  Thorolf moved on to the next man. “I remember you well, Igor. May the gods give you glory in battle for coming here today.”

  Thorolf ended with Captain Dreng. “Stand before me as an equal. My sire favored you above all others and I will have it no other way.”

  The big man rose and embraced Thorolf. “You have grown into a man.”

  Thorolf slapped his back affectionately and then pulled back so he could see his mentor clearly. “Not half the beast you are.”

  Dreng patted his stomach. “Tis the fault of the cooks. I’m as wide as I am tall.”

  “My homeland thrives?”

  “We’re twice as strong as we were ten years ago,” the captain said. “However, the throne sits empty.”

  Everyone stood then and chose a seat.

  “The high priest has told me many things, Dreng. And though I was reluctant, at first, to claim my father’s throne, nothing can deter me now. I will honor my family and people.”

  “Your uncle slaughtered sixty women and children the night you escaped. We lost thirty soldiers in the fight. The shrewd bastard hired a hundred mercenaries to usurp power from your father. Murdered your family, then dug a hole in the ground and buried them indiscriminately in unmarked graves.”

  The harrowing news settled on Thorolf like a black shroud. “And where are my parents’ bodies now? My brother?”

  “In the ground still, waiting for their son and brother to come home and honor them properly.”

  Thorolf shrugged off the pain. There’d be time to mourn them later, once he stood before their burial mound. “Why did you rise up against my uncle now? What changed?”

  Dreng looked at the other captains and sucked in a breath. “Your uncle stole our firstborn babes and threatened to kill them if we didn’t pledge allegiance to him. Once the people learned of the deaths of your family and tasted your uncle’s brutality, fear crippled them. Life slowly returned to normal. But we never forgot you.”

  Two braziers provided warmth in the room. Thorolf stared into the flames, wondering if he should accept the captain’s explanation without further question. He had no right to judge these loyal men too harshly. “Where are your children now?”

  “Safe and growing,” Dreng answered. “We all have sons and daughters. My eldest carries your father’s name. And Vestar’s youngest boy is named Thorolf.”

  “How did my uncle die?”

  “The same way your father did. Cut like a wild pig and hung by his feet in the courtyard for all to see.”

  “My aunt?”

  Dreng stared at the floor and grew silent.

  “Captain? How did my aunt die?”

  “We gave her to the mercenaries your uncle hired as a prize,” Vestar said.

  The harsh reality of what they’d done to avenge his family would never leave him. “And those men?”

  “Executed,” Dreng spoke again.

  “My uncle had four children.”

  “The two eldest boys were hanged. The daughter, Ellisif, was sold at a slave market in Baghdad. As for the youngest boy…”

  “You know of his fate?” Thorolf queried.

  “The high priest informed us.” Dreng shifted in his chair. “No mercy was shown to you. To King Wyborn or our queen.”

  “The girl must be rescued from her bondage. She was but a babe when my uncle betrayed my family. I will not have her blood on my hands.”

  “Aye,” Dreng said. “What do you want me to do with her?”

  “Bring her home, Dreng. Treat her with decency and remind her that mercy will always be given to the truly innocent. I will accept her as a sister. And when its time, she will wed a good man.”

  “If I have displeased you in any way…”

  Thorolf held up his hand. “The time for violence is over. Let us all forgive our pasts and start anew. I am not here to judge you. Only to try and understand what I have to return to. I am a stranger. Until a few days ago, a sell-sword with no home.”

  “You are no stranger,” Etzel disagreed. “But a lost son. We can no longer accept our lives continuing on the savage course they’ve taken since your father’s death. Though we prosper, a council is no substitute for a true king.”

  Thorolf nodded. “The rest of you share these feelings? The people want me to return? You are prepared to bend a knee to me as the rightful heir and king? To entrust me with your lives?”

  The high priest walked over to Dreng. “Captain, did you bring the crown?”

  “Aye.” Dreng reached into the leather bag draped over his shoulder and produced something wrapped in skins. “Here.”

  The priest opened the bundle and smiled at what he saw. “The symbol of your sovereignty, Prince Thorolf. Will you have it?”

  Thorolf eyed the circlet of gold and silver. It had graced the heads of his kinsmen for twenty generations. He hesitated to answer for a brief moment, remembering what his old life had been like. Simple. A soldier who served Jarl Roald. “I will.” He stood, shoulders squared, proud to be the son of King Wyborn and Queen Toril. “I pledge a reign of peace and prosperity if the gods will allow it. If any try to harm us, I will destroy them. This I swear on my own life.”

  “Good,” the high priest said, then gestured at one of his attendants.

  The servant placed a red pillow on the floor in front of Thorolf.

  “Kneel, Prince Thorolf,” the high priest directed.

  Thorolf didn’t understand. He thought he was to be crowned tomorrow evening at his wedding.

  “There is no reason to wait,” the holy man said as if he’d heard Thorolf’s thought.

  As Thorolf knelt, his captains surrounded him, including Harald.

  The high priest held the circlet over Thorolf’s head. “Let every man be subject to your power. The gods ordain you. The people choose you. By divine right, your sword will defend against evil. Your name will prevail. Your sons will follow in your footsteps, great conquerors for Allfather, soldiers for justice. None in the nine realms have the authority to challenge your claim. You are a son of Odin, a brother to Thor. Do you accept your kingship?”

  “Aye.”

  “Do you swear to keep the old ways, to honor the gods, to sire children raised in the glory of Odin. Servants of truth. Protectors of Scandinavia?”

  “Aye.”

  The priest set the crown on Thorolf’s head. “Rise, King Thorolf of Borg.”

  “Odin bless the king,” his captains said.

  “Now bring in the woman,” the high priest ordered his attendants. “Lady Runa must meet her lord and his captains.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Runa’s stomach tightened as she walked behind the high priest’s attendants, on her way to a meeting with Thorolf and his captains who just arrived from Borg. Thankfully, Haldana was permitted to join her. In fact, the woman held on to her arm, offering the support Runa needed. They entered the temple sanctuary, paused in front of the altar to pay respect to the gods, then continued down a narrow corridor where a dozen closed doors were.

  Torches lined the stone walls, providing ample light. The attendants knocked on the fourth door and Runa thought she’d faint from nervous anticipation.

  “Come in,” a deep voice sounded from within.

  Runa entered the chamber where she found Thorolf seated with five strangers standing beside him. The high priest lounged on a couch in the corner, drinking from a silver goblet.

  “Close the door, Lady Runa,” Thorolf said too formally. “My captains have come a long way to meet their future queen.”

  She gave Haldana a helpless look before she shut the door, left alone with these men.

  “Welcome,” the high priest smiled at her. “It has been a
while since we last talked. I trust you are comfortable staying with Haldana and the other women?”

  “Aye,” she said. “Though I prefer the privacy of my own space.”

  “Spoken like a woman who knows what she wants and deserves,” the priest chuckled. “After tonight, you will have all the privacy you require.”

  “Lady Runa,” Thorolf spoke.

  She turned to him and curtsied, marveling at the crown on his head. “You’ve claimed your kingdom?”

  “Aye. There was no reason to delay. I am glad you are here, sweet one.” He motioned for her to step closer. “I want to introduce you to Captain Dreng first.”

  “Tis an honor,” the soldier said, bowing. “Words cannot describe how it feels to know King Thorolf will have such a beautiful and capable lady at his side. May Frigg grant you happiness and many children.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” she said, offering her hand to the captain. He took it and plied a soft kiss to her fingers. “I hope your journey here was uneventful.”

  The captains were all dressed in similar fashion; black tunics and braies, copper beads decorated the ends of the braids in their beards, silver bracelets and rings on their wrists and fingers, and fur cloaks.

  “We were delayed by a snowstorm, otherwise, peaceful.”

  Thorolf made the rest of the introductions, each warrior as respectful and charming as the next. If these were the men tasked with safeguarding Thorolf and seeing his will done in Borg, she knew he would succeed at whatever he did. Her greatest concern was whether they would accept her or not. Would the people of Borg welcome her as their queen?

  Tales about the northlands had been whispered in her ears from a young age. The land of giants veiled by mist, snow, and ice. Allfather was even rumored to walk openly among these ancient people. And though the Trondelag had its own appealing lore, her brothers and their warriors paled in comparison to these behemoths.

  “I require some time alone with my betrothed,” he said.

  The high priest and captains were quick to respond, leaving the solar.