Rorik said, “Did you speak to Entti?”
“Aye,” Hafter said, looking away from his feet up to Rorik. “She said she would kill me or herself if I tried to bed her. She said it mattered not to her. She walked out of the longhouse then, saying nothing more, as if daring me to force her.” He paused a moment, drank deeply of the mead, and said, “She is strong, Rorik. She fights like a woman and her knee is as quick and as deadly, just like a man’s weapon. I could take her, but it would be difficult if she didn’t want me to. I would have to hurt her and I don’t want to.”
“Why not? She’s but a slave. She belongs to you. You can do anything you wish to do with her.”
Hafter shook his head. “She might be a slave now, but she wasn’t before. And what she is now is more like she was before than what she’s supposed to be now.”
Rorik wondered why a mortal’s plans must always go awry as he tried to sort through Hafter’s words. There was sense there, but he was too tired, too frustrated, to delve deep enough to find it. His plan was noble. It would solve every problem. Except for Entti’s, but she was a slave. What she was before no longer mattered. He bellowed down at Hafter’s bent head, “You are a warrior! Tie her down, damn her!”
Hafter’s eyes lit up. “I hadn’t thought of that. Would you help me? She is very determined.”
Rorik looked disgusted. He slammed his fist against Hafter’s shoulder, sending his friend sprawling onto the earth floor. “Go tie her up yourself!” he yelled, then turned back to see his wife grinning at him.
Hafter shook himself as he rose. He drank down the rest of his mead, slammed the mug on the bench, and strode from the longhouse. Mirana felt a shaft of fear. She turned, only to feel Amma’s hand on her arm.
“Nay, Mirana, leave him be. Entti can see to herself. She has surprised us all. I vow this is the meat for a scald’s verses, at least those verses that make you laugh. I wonder what my husband Sculla thinks of all this.”
“Ha,” said Old Alna, “Sculla is out doubtless hitting his head against a low-lying oak branch, that, or polishing one of his weapons. ’Tis all the man thinks of—his weapons.”
“He thinks about me when he is angered,” Amma said, and smiled. “I have the skill to make him angry quite often now. Nay, he spends little time on his axes and knives when I am close to him, goading him to anger and to pleasure.”
“Ah,” said Erna, tears filling her eyes. “How I wish Asta were here. Can’t you just hear how she would tease Hafter? How she would laugh and hit him on the arm? And tease him until his eyes crossed?”
“Aye, I can hear her,” Mirana said, and wondered if Gurd had gone off by himself to grieve for his dead wife. She didn’t like him, but she felt a small portion of his grief.
“At least you survived the bad food,” Old Alna said, “though what it was I don’t know. I’ve thought and thought, but I cannot imagine how only you and Asta were struck. Ah, it is too much for an old woman to bear. Aye, we’ll miss Asta, a fine treasure that one was. I remember when she was born, came out of her mother’s womb squalling louder than a Viking’s battle cry. And then she gurgled, I swear to you, all were astonished.”
“Aye,” said Amma. “And I’ll wager she made her mother laugh but moments after that. I remember when she first met Gurd. She said he had the strongest arms of any man in the world. She said she wondered about his temper, but then she just laughed and said that no man could resist a good jest and she would bring him many jests.”
Utta said, “Mirana, you are very pale. Should you not be in bed?”
Mirana agreed and returned to the sleeping chamber. She lay there, wondering what Entti and Hafter were doing.
Hafter had found Entti at the dock, untying the mooring lines to one of the smaller longboats. He yelled at her, running full tilt toward her. She turned, then began to tug more frantically at the knots.
He caught her and twisted her about to face him.
“What are you doing? Do you think yourself a man? Nay, a dozen men to row this damned boat? You are a fool, my girl. Now, I will follow Lord Rorik’s advice.”
“And what is that, pray?”
“That I tie your arms and legs and open you to me, and do whatever I want to with you.”
She howled and sent her fist low in his belly. Hafter felt the bolt of pain, but this time it was high enough so that he didn’t drop like a stone at her feet. He drew back his fist and hit her jaw, not too hard, for he didn’t want to hurt her. She crumbled against him. He liked the feel of her limp and soft against him. It was different from the loudmouthed woman, all fists and meanness, that she’d become.
When Entti awoke, she was in the barn and her wrists were tied above her head to a stake, her legs spread, ankles tied as well.
She stared up at Hafter, who was seated beside her, his legs crossed. He looked like a man who hadn’t a care in the world. He looked like a man who had gained what he wanted. He was whistling and chewing on a piece of straw.
He saw she was awake and gently felt her jaw. “You are all right. Your jaw won’t even be bruised. Well, perhaps just a bit, but that you deserve. I controlled my great strength with you since you are but a woman.”
“Untie me.”
He shook his head and smiled. “I am not a fool.”
She pulled at the bonds but they didn’t loosen. She looked at him with murder in her eyes.
“I’ll untie you,” he said, enjoying that look, and unfastened the knots of her tunic. “Now I’ll do more than untie you.” Then he calmly pulled her clothes off. It didn’t take him long for she didn’t wear many clothes, not even a shift. She didn’t have anything save rags, and it angered him immensely. He would see that she was well garbed, just as soon as he convinced her to trust him, to cease playing her woman’s jests on him.