“Aye,” Mirana said, nothing more. “But all have been searching for her.”
Emund said, “They could have found us, even during their search, but they didn’t. Aye, ’tis an island filled with fools and led by a stupid man.”
“We were well hidden,” Ivar said.
Mirana said nothing. She felt sick to her stomach and her head throbbed. She couldn’t speak to Gunleik until they beached the longboat and camped for the night. She felt a knot of cold deep in her belly, and said, “When do we go ashore for the night, Gunleik?”
“We don’t,” he said. “We must continue without stopping, Mirana. Einar said to return as soon as we could else he would suffer for it, and thus we would as well. I know it will be hard for you, but there is really no choice.”
Mirana knew it was true that Einar would kill Gunleik and anyone for that matter who didn’t do what he wanted them to, anyone who failed. She drew a deep breath. There was nothing for it but to try. “Listen to me, all of you. Einar has made a contract with King Sitric. He will force me to wed that old man in exchange for more power, more slaves, and more silver. I will be given over to him the moment Einar has me again. I do not want this. I would ask that you return me to Hawkfell Island. I would ask that you tell Einar that I am dead, that, or you couldn’t find me.” She realized this wouldn’t work, and quickly added, “Nay, do not even return to Einar. Come back with me to Hawkfell Island and become one with Rorik’s men. They were well treated and there is raiding and trading, enough to make a man rich.”
Gunleik was frowning. “But Einar said nothing of this, Mirana. You to wed with King Sitric? It doesn’t seem likely to me, for you aren’t of a royal house nor do you bring great wealth. How did you learn of it?”
“Rorik had a spy in the King’s court in Dublin. He returned to Hawkfell Island and told him of it.”
“Aye,” Emund said, as he spat over the side of the boat. “Aye, this Rorik had many spies. Aslak was his spy at Clontarf. He is responsible for freeing Rorik and for him taking you. I would kill the fool if I could. I would go back to the little lordling’s island—to kill Aslak. But I don’t believe you about this other man, Mirana. At the king’s garrison? Not very likely, I say.”
She shook her head numbly. “It is true, Gunleik. The man’s name is Kron and he was at the garrison for some six months. He discovered everything. I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to be forced to wed that old man. By all the gods, he is old enough to be my grandfather! I know I am not of a royal house. I know it makes no sense, but Kron said that the king was told by his advisor, Hormuze, that he was to have me, Audun’s only daughter, a virgin, and I would bring him back to his virility and to his youth, and give him warrior sons.”
Mirana looked at each man in turn. They were staring at her as if she’d gained three heads. She said very calmly, her heart spurting fast with fear, “It matters not now anyway, for I am no longer a virgin. I am already wed, to Rorik Haraldsson. I am his wife and the mistress of Hawkfell Island.”
There, it was said. Her words lay stark in the night. The men were silent, frozen, staring harder at her now, clearly disbelieving. Then Sira laughed, a delicious woman’s laugh, filled with amusement and disdain.
“It’s true, damn you, Sira, and you well know it!”
“Ah, Mirana, you lie to yourself just as you lie to these valiant men who have risked their lives to save you.” She smiled in pity, continuing to Gunleik, “I know that you are fond of her, but Rorik didn’t want her, though she tried hard enough to gain his attention. He didn’t wed her. He left her virginity intact. She was naught but a hostage to him, despite all her tricks, nothing more than an enemy to his family who would have killed her, despite him wanting to keep her to bargain with Einar. Nay, I was the one who was supposed to wed him. His parents came to Hawkfell, bringing me with them for the wedding. You saved her, Gunleik, for surely they would have killed her.”
“Don’t believe her, please,” Mirana said. “She lies. She was the one who tried to kill me. She wanted Rorik, but he was already wed to me.”
Ingolf snorted, his heavy brows a single black line across his brow. “It sounds like naught more than a tangled weave of a woman’s lies. You will be quiet, mistress. Your whining has no effect on any of us. Your lies are childish. Not a virgin! You, the manly little bitch who would let no man near you, who would kill a man before you let him caress you? Aye, I wanted you, but you would only stare at me, contempt for me writ plain on your face. You’re a cold on
e, mistress, and I doubt not that you will die a virgin. Or, if your wedding to King Sitric is true, why then, you will have no choice but to part your legs for him and then you’ll be a vessel for the old king’s rod. You, no longer a virgin? It would take more than a single man to rob you of your maidenhead. And that is a lie easily disproved. If Gunleik doesn’t wish to do it, why I’ll stick my finger inside you and find your maiden’s shield.
“Nay, there is no reason for this other slave to lie. You lie because you don’t want to be wedded to an old man, your fine white flesh crawls at the thought, doesn’t it? But mistress, he is a king, think you on that and on the advantages it will bring you. You will have slaves and jewelry and more gowns than you would wish for. Einar will gain from the bargain as will the rest of us as well. Lie down and sleep and keep your lies behind your teeth. Leave us in peace.”
“Gunleik,” Mirana said, grabbing his arm. “Please, I am telling the truth. Don’t take me back to Einar. This whole idea of the king wanting only me—it makes no sense. Why would he demand to have only me when there are princesses of more value to him?
“Please listen, all of you. If you do take me back, then the king will discover that he’s been deceived, and all of us will die, me, Einar, perhaps even all of you. Don’t look away from me, Ivar. I’m not a virgin. I’m a wife. I’m the mistress of Hawkfell Island. By all the gods, if I weren’t Rorik’s wife, why then would I be out freely walking about for Ivar to find me? Why would I lie to you, men I’ve known half my life?”
Gunleik looked at her for a very long time. She saw uncertainty in his eyes. She felt sick. He said finally, sounding very weary, “I will think on what you have said, Mirana. Einar never said anything about the king wanting you though, and that is a fact.”
“That’s because he’s a snake and cruel and a miserable bully. It pleases him to make people jump and crawl according to his wishes.”
Emund struck her clean across her cheek. Then he smiled at her. “Ingolf told you to be quiet. Now you will obey.”
Gunleik flung himself on Emund, his hands around his throat, squeezing, until Ingolf struck Gunleik and he slumped to the bottom of the boat. Ivar grabbed for the knife at his belt. “Oh nay, boy, you keep your sticker sheathed. I didn’t hurt your hero, Gunleik, even though the old fool would have sent us all into the sea with his violent attack on Emund. Mirana deserved the slap. She deserves more, but she is Einar’s half-sister, and thus I had to show restraint. But to speak of her half-brother like that deserves much more than a mere slap and Emund would agree. Einar would whip her back raw. Now, row, boy. We have many leagues to cover before we rest.”
Mirana huddled next to Gunleik, her palm on his heart. Thank the gods it was strong and steady. She fell asleep finally, so exhausted she could no longer keep her eyes open. As she slipped away, she heard Sira singing softly, her voice lilting, a siren’s song in the still night. She heard Ingolf speaking quietly to Sira. His voice wasn’t that of a man to his newly captured slave. No, his was a lover’s voice.
Why had Sira lied? What did she hope to gain?
Rorik felt the grinding fear miraculously vanish when his brother Merrik said, “We can’t find her. She isn’t on the island. It’s as simple as that. Neither is Sira. Both of them are gone. I’m sorry, Rorik.”
He was sorry? By all the gods, why? Rorik wanted to believe it, but he was afraid to. He’d seen her in his mind’s eye, dead, killed by an animal or mayhap even by one of his family. And so, he was still silent, simply staring at his brother who said again, “I’m sorry, Rorik. I know you wanted the woman, but she is gone. She is dead.”
Rorik had been so weary he’d wanted to fall down and curl against Kerzog, but now, with this wondrous news, he was once again filled with energy, he wanted to shout and to plan and to gain hope because now he knew, now he was certain.
Harald laid his hand on his son’s shoulder and looked into blue eyes that held the same summer blue of the skies. “There were no boats missing, Rorik. She was very unhappy, son. Mayhap she jumped from the cliff. Mayhap Sira attacked her and both of them fell. Aye, that was probably the way of it. Both of them dead, washing out to sea.”