Page 65 of Her Rogue Viking

Fiona moved to take up her place alongside him. He glanced at her, and reached for her hand.

“How many?” His tone was calm, conversational.

“Viking?”

“How many remain? I know our smith spent much of the last two days removing leg shackles, the forge rang with the sounds of it. Some left even before they could be properly freed. So now, how many of my thralls are still at Skarthveit?”

“Perhaps a dozen.” There was no point in understating the problem. At least twenty able-bodied men had departed, determined either to seek passage back to their old homes or to carve out a new life here in this untried land.

“So, when Olaf returns—and he will return, on that I have no doubt—we shall struggle to repel him. Even the thralls that remain may not choose to fight with my men.”

“They will. They must, if they continue to dwell here.”

He slanted a wry look her way. “They may take up arms if I command it since they will owe me the allegiance of any karl, but that does not mean I will have their hearts, their souls, their will to win. No, my little Celt, I cannot rely on them.”

“But what about Gunnar? When he returns?—”

“Aye, he will come, I have no doubt of that. But will he return in time? We hurt Olaf, diminished his force but the Bjarkessons were not crushed, not by any means.”

“Next time we will inflict greater losses. We will have to.”

“And lose more of our own in the process?” He turned to face her, his expression saddened. “This is a senseless fight.”

“We have no other choice. We must defend ourselves.”

“At what cost? The Bjarkessons may have started this, though that would not be their view of matters, but I do not wish to finish it at the cost of their entire family. Nor of mine and I fear it will come to that. One or the other. We shared this land in the past, for generations all was amicable. There was peace and prosperity but the enmity has gone beyond that now. Peace will return, eventually, but at a price I am unwilling to pay.”

“Then, how…?” Fiona was bewildered. She could see but two solutions—fight or surrender. Surely her Viking did not mean to submit to the vengeful, irrational Olaf. His people would never accept that. She would obey him if this was what he demanded, but in her heart she knew that she could never truly accept it either.

His gaze was unwavering. “We could leave.”

“Leave? But where would we go? How long would we…?”

He turned to scan the seas once more. “There. Out there. Anywhere.”

“You would leave Skarthveit? But it is your home, you built it.” Whatever she might have expected from him, it was not this.

He shook his head. “My grandfather was the first Freysson to settle here, and he started the work. My father added to it, as have I. But we are a travelling people, we Vikings. We move, we settle, we move on again, re-settle. My grandfather did it, and so could I.”

“But, what about your people? You have followers, kin. What about Njal, and me?”

“You will come with me, I hope. And Njal, of course. Those who wish to remain may do so. I am certain that Gunnar will welcome any of my karls who choose to align themselves with him. So might Olaf, for that matter—his quarrel is with me alone. If they offer him their allegiance he will need new men to help replenish his ranks.”

“This is madness,” Fiona began. “You cannot just capitulate. You should not turn and run. We must fight, we must hold on to what is ours.”

“I will hold what is mine, but it need not be here. Free woman or not, you are mine. Njal is mine. Any thralls and karls who remain loyal to me, they are mine also. The rest, all of this this can be replaced. We can build it again in a new place, a place where there is no blood feud simmering, ready to ignite anddestroy all that we work for. Or we may find a new home, a place already existing where we might settle, find a welcome of sorts.”

“Are you considering raiding in order to seize this haven you imagine? Will you descend upon some defenceless village, turn others weaker than you out of their homes?” She remembered vividly the utter helplessness of her family and friends at Pennglas when faced with Viking aggression, their speed, their ruthless efficiency. “I could not agree to that.”

He shook his head. “No, that is not what I had in mind. So, you may agree to my mad notion then? If the destination is to your liking?”

“I shall do as you command, you know this. I am your… your… karl? Is that correct?”

“Aye, but you are more than that. Have you forgotten so soon the bargain we struck yesterday when I had you strapped to the table in my longhouse? Did you not agree to be my wife?”

“I did, but… I was not certain you meant it. You have changed your mind on that? You told me once that we could not be married, that a Viking would never wed a slave.”

“You are no slave, and even if you were, I find my view on a great many matters has shifted somewhat. We shall be married before we leave this place though the usual days of feasting may need to be curtailed. Since you have no family here to negotiate your rights in the matter, or even to provide your dowry, we shall have no choice but to forgo that aspect of the union.”

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