Rorik doubted mightily. He led the men quietly through the salt marsh, knowing from long experience where to find the firmer ground. Suddenly there was the muted yell, a woman’s yell.
They burst through a dense cover of tangled overgrowth into a small clearing. There was Old Alna, bound to a straggly fir tree, shrieking again around a wad of wool she’d managed to work to the side of her mouth. Beside her, bound to a large yew bush was Asta, her gag firmly in place.
There was no sign of Entti or Hafter.
The men rushed forward to untie the two women.
Rorik remained standing, his hands on his hips. He said to Old Alna, “This was your idea, was it not? You wanted her to work and look what has happened. Tell me quickly. Where is she? Where are Hafter and Entti?”
It was Asta, Gurd the blacksmith’s wife, who said quickly, working her mouth to regain moisture and feeli
ng, “Nay, my lord, do not blame Alna. She wanted the girl to have some exercise. She was growing weak chained to your bed. We saw no danger—”
“You are fools,” Rorik said shortly. He watched Asta rub her arms, numb, he imagined, from being bound for so long. He waited, then said, “Tell me and be quick about it.”
Asta shrugged. “Hafter took Entti with him to dally away the afternoon. He said he feared letting her collect roots and herbs; he said none of the men wanted their bellies to cramp or their bowels to convulse, but he was looking at her as would a hungry wolf at a boar steak. It was after they left that the girl Mirana managed to get a rock without Alna or me seeing her. She hit me on the head and knocked me down. Then she tied up Alna and then me.”
Rorik felt no surprise at all. Why did none of the others see her as he did? He cursed low and long. “How long ago?” he asked finally.
“Three hours at least.”
He cursed again, infuriated with himself and with Old Alna and with his damned arrogant men who couldn’t imagine a woman besting them at anything.
He would find her, he didn’t doubt that, but he did doubt he would find her alive. She was a woman and she was young and comely, and that thought froze his blood. If outlaws or Saxon raiders or other Vikings found her, they’d rape her in turn, abuse her endlessly, and probably kill her. He didn’t want her dead. Damnation. He raised his voice and yelled, “Hafter! Come to me now!”
But there was no answer from Hafter. They found him ten minutes later barely conscious, a large lump just over his right ear, tied securely to a tree with long strips from a woman’s tunic.
Entti was nowhere to be found. Nor was Mirana.
11
IT WAS DARK, the sliver of moon overhead giving little light through the thick fir and pine branches at their camp. Crickets sounded loud in the warm night. There was an occasional splash in the bog just feet from where they sat, for the most part silent. Rorik stared into the small fire, his hands stretched to the flames, feeling the blessed heat warm him.
His men continued silent. They’d eaten dried fish and apples and hard flatbread. Their bellies were filled, unlike the women who hadn’t even eaten any of the food brought over for the noonday meal.
Rorik had sent two men back to Hawkfell Island to fetch supplies. He didn’t know how long it would take to find a sign of her. He had no idea of the direction she’d taken. She and Entti. Why had she taken Entti? None of the men had any idea. Surely she didn’t intend Entti to be a hostage, for the woman was a slave herself. Just because all the men lusted after Entti didn’t mean they wouldn’t hesitate to kill her if need be.
Mirana must have known she was courting nearly certain death if she managed to escape, yet she hadn’t cared. She would obviously rather die than remain his prisoner. She cared that much for that cursed brother of hers. His mouth tasted sour at that thought. He’d made her desperate; he’d made her consider death rather than remain chained to his bed. He spat and continued to stare into the flames.
The gods knew he hadn’t abused her, not really. She had bitten his ankle when he’d rested his foot on her neck on their voyage to Hawkfell Island. But she could have fallen overboard if he hadn’t held her still, that or jumped from the warship just to thwart him. His mind continued in this vein even though he knew he was lying—and to himself, which was the worst kind of lie there was.
He’d had to whip her but he hadn’t hurt her and she knew it as well as did he.
He’d had no choice but to chain her in his sleeping chamber. She would have caused havoc had he allowed her to run loose. She would have run all right, all the way to the dock to steal a warship and try to row it by herself, anywhere. And now she was out there, somewhere, in the darkness, she and Entti, and she had no protection, no food.
Hafter said, looking into the fire, even as he continued to massage his head where Mirana had struck him, “I had Entti under me. She was smiling and kissing me, her legs already around my flanks. I was just ready to come into her body when the witch struck me hard on the head.”
“You’re a fool, Hafter,” Rorik said, his voice emotionless. His rage, his fear that Mirana was already dead, all that he felt, he would keep to himself.
“I know,” Hafter said and sighed deeply. “My head is killing me. I have a lump here that does naught save grow and grow.”
“You deserve it,” Gurd the blacksmith said, and chewed on a cord of dried fish. “She could have killed my Asta if she’d had the notion to do it. And then I would have had to kill you for allowing it.”
“Aye,” said Sculla. “ ’Twas your responsibility and you failed because you wanted to stick your rod into Entti. Your lust has brought us all low. Now we must needs track two women, one of them a prisoner, the other one—well, I’d not believed her ruthless and cold as any witch that lives under the earth, but now perhaps I must change my thinking.”
“She stole my sword and my knife,” Hafter said. “She’s not completely without protection.”
Rorik cursed. Hafter hadn’t told him that before. By all the gods, this added a new danger, both to the women and to Rorik and his men when they caught up to them. He rubbed his fingertips over his throat. He asked now, “But why in the name of Odin All-Father did she take Entti?” He didn’t look at any one of his men, merely stared beyond their camp into the dark forest beyond.