Читать книгу Defiant in the Viking's Bed - Joanna Fulford - Страница 15

Chapter Six

Astrid continued to struggle but resistance was futile; her captors were roughly twice her size and strength and the hands that held her might have been made of steel. Half carried, half dragged, she was propelled across the open ground towards the hall. The doors opened to a blaze of torchlight that revealed the group of men inside. The feeling of sick horror increased and she estimated thirty at least; thirty who had never left and had never intended to leave.

Conversation stopped as the newcomers entered and the weight of attention turned their way. The two captives were dragged before the high table and Leif flung to the floor. He lay still. In the light of the torches Astrid could see the wound on his head and the blood darkening his hair and running down his face. Had they killed him? Anger mingled with fear and again she tried to free herself but the grip on her arms was inflexible. Thirty pairs of eyes looked on in amusement. She ignored the grinning faces. There was only one man here whose opinion she had to worry about: with pounding heart her gaze went to the high table where her uncle sat.

Jarl Einar surveyed the unconscious form on the floor for a moment and then turned to the man beside him.

‘Well, well. You were right after all. In truth, I didn’t think he’d come.’

‘You should have more faith, especially since the trap was so well baited.’

Astrid’s attention flicked to the speaker, seated at her uncle’s right hand. A cold lump formed in the pit of her stomach as she recognised Hakke. Like many of those present he was physically impressive with the lean muscular build of the warrior. However, the richness of his clothing set him apart. Garnets glowed like blood in the gold brooch that held his cloak. Black hair fell over his shoulders. He might have been handsome, save for the thin-lipped mouth and steel grey eyes. Their gaze rested on Astrid for a moment.

‘Very well baited indeed.’ He smiled but the expression stopped well short of his eyes. ‘I am in your debt, my lady.’

Astrid glared at him. ‘Tell these oafs to let me go.’

He ignored that. ‘Pray come and sit next to me.’

The words were not an invitation. Astrid’s captor escorted her to the designated place and shoved her on to a chair. Her cheeks flushed with indignation and she threw him a venomous look. His smile widened. She’d have liked to slap it off his face but knew better than to try. Losing her temper would achieve nothing and might make things worse for Leif. She threw another anxious glance his way. Still he didn’t stir. Misgivings grew. How badly was he hurt?

Hakke looked at the prisoner and spoke to his men. ‘Remove his weapons and mail shirt. Then strip him to the waist and bind him fast.’

The task was performed with ruthless efficiency.

‘Fetch a bucket of water and bring him round.’

Jarl Einar regarded his companion in surprise. ‘Wouldn’t it be easier to leave him unconscious?’

‘No, I want him to be fully aware of what’s happening to him.’

Although he smiled, the prince’s tone sent a shiver through Astrid. Nor was there any trace of compassion in the steely eyes. The churning sensation in her stomach grew stronger and her hands clenched on the arm of the chair.

Moments later a man returned with a bucket. He dashed the contents over Leif. The injured man groaned and stirred. Astrid bit her lip, torn between anxiety and relief that he wasn’t dead. She darted a look at the men who stood around him. She didn’t recognise any of them—they weren’t attached to her uncle’s retinue. Nevertheless, it took no more than a second to know what they were: sea wolves who fought only for gain and whose loyalty was to the highest payer. Their attention was currently on the prisoner, their expressions feral, each face lit with cruel anticipation.

* * *

A second bucket of water brought Leif to consciousness. For a moment or two he was disorientated, unaware of anything save a crashing headache and pain in his face and ribs. Slowly he became aware of more details: the soiled rushes pressed against his cheek, the smell of stale food and dogs. He tried to move his limbs but couldn’t.

‘Get him up on his knees.’

The voice sounded vaguely familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. Then calloused hands seized his arms and hauled him up. He winced as his injuries protested.

‘It’s good to have you back with us, Jarl Leif,’ the voice continued. ‘I should hate you to miss any of this.’

Leif frowned, and looked in the direction of the speaker. With a jolt of recognition he knew who it was.

‘Hakke.’

The prince smiled. ‘Indeed. May I say I’ve been looking forward to this for some time.’

‘We all have,’ said Jarl Einar.

Leif’s gaze flicked that way and his gut tightened as the implications began to dawn. Then, with a sense of shock, he saw who was sitting next to Hakke. For a moment his gaze locked with Astrid’s. She looked pale but, as far as he could tell, she seemed unharmed.

The focus of his attention didn’t go unnoticed. ‘You have good taste, my lord, I’ll say that for you,’ said Hakke. ‘But then, a big fish requires special bait.’ He smiled at Astrid. ‘You have played your part to perfection, my dear.’

She opened her mouth to speak but Leif was before her. ‘What part? What are you talking about?’

‘Your interest there hasn’t gone unnoticed. A beautiful woman is a reliable lure, in this case outstanding. Well done, my lady. Without you we could not have brought him here.’

Leif frowned, his gaze locking with Astrid’s. ‘What does he mean?’

She paled a little more. ‘It means nothing, I swear it.’

‘It means you have been tricked, my lord, and easily too,’ said Hakke. ‘Still, you are not the first to fall for a pretty face and I don’t suppose you’ll be the last.’

Leif glared at him. ‘It’s a lie!’

‘And yet here we are.’

The outwardly pleasant tone belied the enormity that lay behind those words. It fuelled Leif’s anger. Such treachery was impossible, inconceivable. He looked again at Astrid.

She shook her head. ‘You mustn’t believe him, Leif.’

Hakke raised an eyebrow. ‘You are too modest, my lady. After all, it was your message that brought him here tonight.’

Her face went as white as bleached linen as the extent of the game became apparent and, along with that, her unwitting part in it. Her anguished gaze met Leif’s. In it she read anger and something frighteningly like doubt. Surely he couldn’t have swallowed those lies? He must know she would never have done such a thing; that they were using her for their own ends.

She shook her head. ‘That’s not—’

‘Not what he was expecting,’ interrupted Hakke.

Leif’s head thumped painfully. His mind was in turmoil, fighting against Hakke’s words. Astrid could not have done this. She wanted to leave; to escape an unwelcome marriage. There had to be another explanation.

‘Your presumption with regard to the Lady Astrid will be dealt with in due course,’ Hakke went on. ‘In the meantime, I have other bones to pick with you, my lord, beginning with the deaths of my brothers.’

‘They fell in battle,’ replied Leif, ‘and died with swords in their hands.’

‘They fell because of Halfdan Svarti’s greed. He wants Vingulmark and doesn’t care what he has to do to take it.’

‘Had you and your brothers not ambushed him and tried to kill him he might not have been so eager for that confrontation.’

‘We did but defend what was ours.’ Hakke’s eyes glinted. ‘Speaking of which, you have lately robbed me of my bride.’

‘The bride you kidnapped and intended to force into wedlock.’

‘Ragnhild was mine.’

‘Yet she was only too happy to be saved from that fate,’ said Leif.

Hakke’s gaze grew colder. ‘Nothing is going to save you from yours, I promise you.’

‘Then kill me and have done with it.’

‘I have no wish to kill you, my lord. Far from it. I wish you to live for a long time yet, and each day that you live you will think of me.’

The knot in Leif’s gut tightened. ‘What do you mean to do?’

‘I am delivering you into Jarl Einar’s safe keeping, as his bondsman.’

‘Never!’

‘Perhaps we need to put you in the right frame of mind for your new role.’ Hakke snapped his fingers. ‘Fetch the shears.’

A servant returned with the blades. They were the type kept for clipping sheep, sharp-edged and with wicked points. He handed them to one of the men standing guard over Leif. Hakke nodded.

‘Crop his hair in the manner befitting a slave.’

The words were greeted with a mocking cheer that drowned out Astrid’s cry of protest. In rage and desperation Leif fought his bonds but they yielded not a whit. Seconds later his captors flung him face down on the floor and a boot between his shoulders held him there. A large hand grabbed hold of his hair, yanking his head back. Then the shears went to work. By the time they had finished all that remained of the flowing mane was an inch of golden stubble. The audience thumped the table in approval.

Hakke nodded. ‘Now the collar.’

‘No!’ Again Astrid’s voice was drowned out. She tried to rise but a strong hand on her shoulder pulled her back again. Through welling tears she watched as the thick leather collar was fitted around Leif’s neck and riveted shut.

Hakke rose from his chair and strolled across to his prisoner. For a moment or two he surveyed him in silence. Then, unhurriedly, he threw back his cloak and reached for the coiled whip at his belt, shaking it free. The onlookers whistled and cheered.

Astrid turned to her uncle. ‘Stop this, I beg you.’

He eyed her coldly. ‘I’ll do no such thing. His punishment is more than merited. Besides, it will help you to understand what it means to cross me.’

The whip descended, leaving a bloody welt across Leif’s naked back. He writhed but made no sound. Astrid’s knuckles whitened.

Hakke delivered a dozen more strokes and then paused, surveying the man at his feet. ‘If it were solely up to me I’d flog you until your bones showed through your flesh,’ he said. ‘However, Jarl Einar wants you fit for work tomorrow.’ He cast the whip aside and looked at the waiting men. ‘Chain him in the kennel with the other dogs.’

They hauled Leif to his feet and dragged him from the hall. Astrid looked on, her face ashen. Jarl Einar turned to the man behind her chair.

‘Take her to the women’s bower and put a guard on the place.’ Then he looked coldly at his niece. ‘I’ll deal with you later.’

* * *

Leif’s captors shackled his ankle to a great wooden stake and then departed, locking the gate behind them. Several large hounds growled at him but he ignored them, gritting his teeth against the pain in his back and ribs. The bruises on his face were tender now, and one eye was half closed. Cold struck up from the earthen floor where the stench of hound vied with urine and faeces. For a while anger held it at bay but as time passed the chill grew more pronounced, along with a growing sense of dread as the true extent of his predicament hit home. His men would be concerned by now. They would likely guess where he’d gone and why, but, even suspecting something had gone wrong, they couldn’t do anything to help him. Their numbers were too few. The longer they delayed the more precarious their own position would become. When Steingrim found the hall and farm abandoned he’d head for the anchorage. The only sensible choice for Leif’s crew was to sail without him. That way they could escape the intended slaughter and go to Agder to raise the force they needed. Of course, that would take time. Mentally he visualised it all. It would take weeks, perhaps months, to organise, and that was before they liaised with Finn and Erik, always assuming Finn and Erik were successful in their mission. If not... Leif let out a ragged breath. He ran a hand across his shorn head, feeling congealed blood among the stubble. Anger surged and his fingers closed on the rim of the leather collar. Exerting all his strength, he tried to force the ends apart. The rivets held fast. Eventually, with a curse he gave it up.

It occurred to him then that this was just a taster of what his enemies had in store for him. In his mind he could hear Hakke’s mocking voice: I wish you to live for a long time yet, and each day that you live you will think of me. He would do all in his power to prevent any chance of rescue. Nor would it be too hard. Hakke still had numerous allies, men who would be only too pleased to witness the downfall of an enemy. All he had to do was to move his captive elsewhere and keep on moving him at regular intervals so that the trail grew cold and was lost. Leif felt a chill in the pit of his stomach and for the first time experienced something close to fear.

He closed his eyes and suppressed the emotion. It wouldn’t help him. He had to think. His enemies had set a clever trap, but to do it they had needed information. How had they got it? Astrid’s image loomed large at the forefront of memory. Only the two of them had been privy to his plans, unless she had told someone else. Had the scene in the hall been an act on her part? The thought of possible duplicity in her cut like a blade. You mustn’t believe him, Leif. As though in response he saw Hakke’s mocking smile. And yet here we are. Someone was lying and, like it or not, all the evidence appeared to be pointing one way. Doubt flickered into being. Leif’s jaw tightened. In that moment he knew that, no matter what it took or how long, he was going to discover the truth. And if Astrid had been complicit in this there was going to be a reckoning.