A Flame Put Out (21 page)

Selia observed her stepdaughter’s nurturing. She had never seen such kindness from Ingrid. For all her rude and callous behavior to nearly everyone else, she was a good mother. Like Alrik, she was capable of gentleness—it just didn’t happen often. But Ingrid loved Eydis and treated her well. Thankfully the child had that much. It was more than Selia could say for Alrik’s relationship with the boys.

She knelt close to Ingrid and Eydis with her back to the men of the ship, hoping if anyone noticed they would only see a loyal thrall worried about the health of his mistress’s daughter. “A tent,” she whispered to Ingrid. “Ask them to make a tent for Eydis.”

Ingrid frowned but didn’t make eye contact with Selia. It was clear she wasn’t happy about Selia breaking the rules they had decided upon. Ingrid grabbed Selia’s arm and pulled her closer to Eydis. “Stay here with her, Hakon,” she said, loud enough to be overheard.

Ingrid looked around at the sleeping men and loosed an impatient sigh when she spotted Gunnar and Einarr, still asleep. She strode to the group of men who were awake. One was Gunnar’s son Leif, a boy of twelve or thirteen, who had his father’s dark hair and violet eyes but so far had seemed not to share his cruel disposition. Another was Brudd, the man who had been dragged onto the ship the previous morning. Apparently he was taking Gunnar’s threat seriously, to sleep with one eye open.

“I need to make a tent of some sort for my daughter,” Ingrid stated. “She’s very ill and I want to keep her out of the sun. Do you have an extra blanket we could use?”

The boy Leif looked around at the other men, then held out his blanket to Ingrid. Brudd gripped Leif’s arm to stop him. The man’s craggy face flushed with desire as his gaze scraped over Ingrid from head to toe. “I’ve got an extra blanket,” he said with a slow smile. His hand snaked down to his crotch as he adjusted himself. “What will you give me for it?”

Selia gasped and took a step backward. She put her arm around Eydis and motioned Faolan and Geirr closer to the rail. Ingrid could take care of herself.

From the corner of her eye Selia could see Ingrid draw herself up and cross her arms, just as Alrik always had. Selia couldn’t see her stepdaughter’s face but she could picture its arrogant expression perfectly.

“I have paid Gunnar Klaufason well for our passage,” Ingrid retorted, “and I assumed that would include a blanket for my child. Should I wake Gunnar now and tell him you refused?”

Brudd spat on the deck, then studied Ingrid with the long, irritated stare of a man unaccustomed to dealing with an assertive woman. After a moment he took the blanket from Leif and held it out to her. But as Ingrid reached for it, Brudd grabbed her wrist and pulled her close. He twisted her around so she was forced to sit in his lap, and he held her by both wrists with one of his enormous hands.

Ingrid cried out and struggled against him but she couldn’t move. She was strong but Brudd was stronger.

Though Brudd leaned close to her ear and spoke softly, Selia was close enough to hear. “I don’t know who you think you are, girl, but it would be a mistake to get on my bad side. If you’re nice to me I can be very nice to you.” Brudd’s hand crept up to fondle Ingrid’s breast. “But if not, I can see to it that you get passed around to every man on this ship before we throw you over the side.”

Ingrid reared her head back and cracked Brudd in the nose. He screamed and pushed her away as blood gushed over his shirt. “Bitch!” he shouted through his hand. “I’ll kill you!”

Ingrid pulled her dagger from her belt and held it at the ready. She smiled at Brudd as he unsuccessfully tried to staunch the bleeding. “If you ever touch me again I’ll cut off something very important to you and throw that useless bit of meat
over the side.”

The entire crew was awake now. A few of the men laughed nervously as they saw Gunnar approaching. He stopped between Brudd and Ingrid. “Brudd, what have you done?” Gunnar’s voice was icy calm.

“That little bitch broke my nose!” Brudd bellowed.

Gunnar narrowed his eye at him. “Inga Elfradsdottir has only paid half the price of her passage. Her father will pay us double for her safe return. Now, I have a question for you. Do you think he will pay us anything at all if his daughter is raped?”

“But she disrespected me! And she broke my nose! My shirt is ruined—”

Brudd’s words were cut off as Gunnar leaned close to him. There seemed to be a mild struggle between the two men although Selia couldn’t see everything. But suddenly Ingrid gasped and jumped back, and Selia saw with horror what Gunnar had done.

A dagger stuck out from Brudd’s belly, buried deep. As he looked down at it in surprise, blood bubbled up and flowed from his mouth.

Brudd sank to his knees as Gunnar eyed him dispassionately. “Your shirt is truly ruined, Brudd. And you’ve made a mess of my ship. Who will I get to clean this up?”

Gunnar dragged Brudd to the rail, leaving a dark trail of blood on the deck. He hefted Brudd’s body up by the armpits and leaned him over the side. Brudd struggled momentarily like a hooked fish, then sagged against the rail in exhaustion. The bleeding man’s breath came in an irregular rattle as his gaze fixed on the water below.

“Now,” Gunnar said in the same calm, eerie voice, “if I pull the dagger out you’ll die very quickly. But I don’t want you to die quickly—I want you to swim for a while. I want you to live long enough for the sharks to find you. So, do I lose my favorite dagger to the sea, or do I pull it out and show you the mercy of a quick death?”

Gunnar passed his regard over his men. Every eye was upon him and no one made a move to help Brudd. Gunnar’s gaze locked with that of his son, as though daring him to step forward. Leif remained motionless. The children cowered next to Selia as Ingrid stood in front of them.

Gunnar’s mouth curved in a smile so wicked it chilled Selia to the bone. He turned back to Brudd quickly. With one hand on the scruff of his shirt and the other arm hooked under his knee, he lifted the big man and tossed him into the ocean. He watched Brudd bob on the waves for a moment before facing his men with a shrug.

“I can get another dagger,” he said.

Chapter 21

The children stared in horror as the ship sailed away from Brudd’s flailing body. Eydis emitted a piercing shriek and her small finger pointed to a fin in the water, moving quickly toward the bleeding man. Ingrid clapped a hand over Eydis’ mouth and blocked the child’s sight with her body, shushing her hysterical sobs.

The boys’ faces were ashen as they looked back and forth between Selia, Ingrid, and the war band of Gunnar’s men. Selia wanted to grab her sons and hold them, as Ingrid was holding Eydis, but she could not. She was a thrall. And to be recognized as their mother—Alrik Ragnarson’s wife—could mean the difference between arriving safely in Ireland and ending up a shark’s meal like Brudd.

Did Ingrid understand now what sort of man Gunnar Klaufason was? Had his actions made it clear enough for her?

Selia collected the blanket from where it lay at Leif’s feet and made a makeshift tent with it. She tied two corners on the ship’s rail and pulled the other side down, holding it in place with the satchel. The tent was small but it would provide a modicum of privacy where Eydis could rest and Selia could relieve her bladder. That was all she could hope for.

Ingrid climbed inside the tent with Eydis, and the boys stood in front of it as though on guard. Eydis’ sobs turned to hiccups after a few moments, and Ingrid called out to bring a flask of water for the child.

As Selia rifled through the satchel, a heavy hand came down on her shoulder. She froze and lowered her head, shaking so hard her teeth chattered.

“Boy,” Einarr boomed, “The deck needs to be scrubbed. You can empty out that bucket and use it.” Einarr motioned to the bucket Eydis had vomited in. He handed Selia a boar-bristle brush and walked away.

Selia swallowed, staring at the mess she would need to clean. There was a small amount of blood on the deck in the spot where Brudd’s nose had been broken, and a much larger puddle where he had been stabbed. The red trail widened where the man had been dragged to the rail, two bloody handprints smearing the place where he had tried to avoid being tossed overboard.

The sight of blood had always turned Selia’s stomach. She had nearly fainted when Alrik had been gutted by the boar. Even bandaging the boys’ cuts and scrapes made her lightheaded. Geirr and Faolan gaped at her now, knowing how hard this would be for her. But there was no choice but to follow Einarr’s orders.

Selia brought the water flask to Ingrid and turned toward the deck.

The tension on the ship dissolved after the death of Brudd. Gunnar and his men seemed to relax, as though the murder had been long anticipated and well received. They laughed and joked with one another and spent most of their time playing dice games.

The boys, tired of the confinement of the ship, crept close to the men and watched their game. They admired Leif greatly, a boy not much older than they were but seemingly accepted by the group of men as an equal. He, for the most part, ignored their attempts to gain his favor.

The sight of her children so near to Gunnar and his men made Selia nervous, yet there was nothing she could do but keep a close eye on them.

Now that the men had a thrall to shoulder some of their work, Selia stayed very busy. She served their meals, poured their ale, and emptied the bucket they used as a privy. Once they reached land she gathered firewood and cleaned the strings of fish they caught. All the while she tried to keep as small and inconspicuous as possible.

How could they be so near to her and not realize she was a woman? The wife of their leader’s greatest enemy? But Ingrid had been right, for the disguise of a thrall made her nearly invisible to the men. And even if they did look at her, all they saw was a boy. Selia’s hands had grown rough and red with the labor and her skin had tanned from the constant exposure to the sun. She looked no more like a female than Geirr or Faolan did.

Leif was an excellent carver, and he spent a good deal of his free time carving objects out of whale bone. He gave Eydis a small carved bird, exquisite in detail. The boys were jealous that Leif seemed to have taken to Eydis and not to them, but the gift was clearly only meant to keep the child quiet.

Eydis remained ill and stayed in the tent most of the time when they were sailing. Once they reached land she cried every morning when she had to board the ship again. Ingrid kept a close watch on her, and Selia was happy to relieve her whenever she emerged from the tent. This was the only time she could empty her bladder as they sailed. Unfortunately, the need to do so was happening with greater frequency.

There was no deluding herself any longer. She was with child. Exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with the constant hard labor of a thrall, her nausea had not relented. Her breasts hurt, her back hurt, and the various smells associated with a ship of men were nearly unbearable. Whether Selia liked it or not, Alrik had planted his seed inside her and it was taking hold with a vengeance.

She calculated the babe would come in the late spring. If they could sail for Iceland very soon after arriving in Ireland, that would give her time to get settled for the winter and prove her usefulness to her new employer. If this was anything like last time, she would be able to hide her condition through the winter.

Her other option was to try to find a husband. She had already decided to tell her new employer she was widowed—to say she was divorced would only bring up the question of why. There were more men than women in Iceland, so chances were good Selia could locate employment with an unmarried man. Securing his interest in her might prove harder.

There had been a time when half the male population of Baile Átha Cliath had been enamored of her. But Selia had been young and beautiful then, with fine white skin and a cascade of curls down her back. Now she claimed twenty-five summers, well past the prime marrying age. Her skin was sun-reddened, her hands rough and calloused. Her black hair was buried on a remote beach in Norway. Who would want her now, especially when they learned she was with child?

The thought of marrying again was frightening in and of itself. Even marrying another Finngall, knowing she could divorce him if necessary, would be a difficult undertaking. Most marriages were arranged, whether Christian or heathen. Love was not required nor expected. Mutual respect was the most that many couples could hope for. But Selia had loved Alrik, even at his worst. After being with someone she loved so completely, how could she now submit to a man she didn’t care for? How could she allow him to touch her?

But keeping her boys safe—as well as this unexpected new life growing inside her—would have to take precedence over whatever reservations Selia had about remarrying. What if she didn’t survive childbirth this time? What would happen to Geirr and Faolan then? Better for them to be the stepchildren of a good man than the orphans of a dead servant. If Selia was able to find a man who treated her children well, that would have to be enough.

Their future security would be a fair trade for whatever she had to do to remain in a loveless marriage.

The weather cleared, with a fine wind. Selia’s anxiety lessened as they neared Ireland. From overhearing the men talk, they would be in Dubhlinn very soon as long as the weather held out. Then on to find Dagrun in hopes the children could stay with her briefly while Selia and Ingrid looked for Ainnileas. As soon as Selia made a gown and had the slave collar removed, they could be on their way to Iceland.

Very soon she and the boys would be on another ship sailing away to start a new life in an untried new land. And if they could talk Ainnileas into taking them in Niall’s ship, even better. They would be all together, safe, and maybe Selia wouldn’t have to marry an Icelandic stranger after all.

Most of the men on the ship kept a wide berth from Ingrid after the incident with Brudd. Gunnar would speak to her, however, with a frequency that made Selia anxious. He was charming, and very handsome if one could overlook the mangled eye. Gunnar was married to Einarr’s sister, but that meant nothing to most Finngalls. Einarr, and even young Leif, did not seem bothered by Gunnar’s attentiveness to their lovely guest.

Ingrid was a strikingly beautiful woman. Her arrogance was inexplicably attractive to many Finngall men. Instead of being intimidated by Ingrid’s confidence, Gunnar seemed to admire it. It was as though he saw her as a worthy challenge.

If Ingrid had any sense at all she would realize the danger of engaging in conversation with Gunnar. The man was charismatic, yes, and nearly as clever and perceptive as Ulfrik was, but Gunnar’s calm demeanor veiled a viciousness of spirit Selia had never seen in any other man. And Ingrid knew this; she had heard the stories of Gunnar One-Eye from Hrefna. She had seen firsthand how ruthless the man could be when he threw his sister’s husband to his death and sailed away.

Why would she now talk with him and laugh with him? Was she interested in this pirate as more than just a way to pass the time as they sailed? Was Ingrid so fickle she had forgotten about her desire to find Ainnileas?

The ship clipped along at a good pace, bringing them closer to safety. The boys liked to stand by the rail and watch for schools of fish or the occasional whale. They had become bored and fidgety, tired of playing their game of rocks and sticks or watching the men play dice.

Whenever they reached land Selia would take the children with her to let them run as she collected firewood. Their eyes, especially Geirr’s, were taking on a wild restlessness that begged for release. If only Selia had had the foresight to bring along the wooden sparring swords Alrik had made for them. At least then the boys would have an outlet on the ship for their abundance of energy.

Selia leaned over the rail to rinse out the slop bucket. She had so quickly grown accustomed to her role as thrall, it seemed second nature now. She had been the mistress of Alrik’s farmstead, the wife of a great Hersir who owned dozens of slaves, and now she washed filth from a privy bucket. How quickly she had learned to take nothing as her due, for all could shift in an instant.

Selia heard Faolan’s raised voice and turned sharply to look. What she saw made her blood run cold. Geirr was perched on his knees on the rail, gripping the sides as he leaned over to see whatever was in the water. Faolan held him by the hem of his tunic as he tried to pull him back down. No one else on the ship paid any attention to the boys. Selia dropped the bucket and sprinted toward them.

Geirr shifted impatiently, trying to persuade Faolan to let go. As Faolan pulled harder, Geirr moved to smack his brother’s hand away. Just as Selia reached them, Geirr jerked too hard and lost his balance.

Selia watched in horror as her son fell from the rail and into the water. The splash cut short his surprised scream.

Without a second’s hesitation, Selia clambered over the rail and jumped in after him. She sank for a moment but kicked her legs and was able to bob to the surface. She had never tried to swim but she had seen other people do it, and now thrashed her arms and legs in the direction of Geirr as though sheer force of will could make her a swimmer.

It could not. The cold, briny water hit her in the face and she convulsively swallowed. Then sank again, sputtering. Selia kicked in panicked frustration, desperate to save Geirr, to drag him back to the ship, but her arms and legs refused to move in the coordinated fashion necessary to keep her afloat. She swallowed more water and went under.

She was drowning. She was going to die. Her mind screamed in desperate prayer.
Please, let someone save Geirr . . .

Suddenly, an arm snapped around her waist, pulling her to the surface. She coughed, twisting in a frantic search for Geirr, and sobbed with relief as she saw him being hoisted onto the ship by Gunnar’s men.

Whoever had saved her now swam to the ship with her body in tow, and fumbled as he tried to heft her toward the hands waiting to pull her to safety. Selia was jerked up and over onto the warm, wooden planks of the deck, and she lay still, stunned to be alive.

She choked on her own breath, and rolled over onto her hands and knees to cough up a small puddle of water. She heard Geirr crying and tried to crawl toward him. Her body refused to cooperate, and Selia finally collapsed a few feet from him. She lay still again, just breathing.

A shadow fell over her and Selia opened her eyes. Einarr, dripping wet, stood above her. He had saved her life.

Selia met his eyes, then quickly looked away.