By Love Enslaved (43 page)

While preparing for the voyage, Brendan and Erik were again sharing the small house on Haakon’s farm. The thrall had been watching Dana move in and out of the tents pitched under the oak tree in hopes he would have a chance to speak with her alone. Berit had always been at her side, however. As he saw the pair walking toward the house, he knew from the savage length of Dana’s stride that she would be in a most unsympathetic mood. What she had to be so angry about he couldn’t guess, but he had had more than enough of her temper for one day and made no effort to approach her. He could wait until tomorrow or the next day, but before he left her home, he was determined to tell her good-bye in a way that would make her long for his return. That he still hadn’t figured out how or when he could return didn’t matter as long as he had the hope she would wait for him.

Chapter Twenty-One

In the next two days, Brendan’s efforts to speak with Dana were frustrated at every turn for she was never alone and he knew her moods well enough to be convinced sneaking into her house to again awaken her before dawn would yield the worst of results. She spent a great deal of her time tending the sick, and he was certain it was her sympathetic concern that speeded the men’s recovery as much as Olga’s healing herbs. The health of all the ailing men was improving steadily, and some felt sufficiently well to be up and about. It was plain, however, that they would not be strong enough to make the return voyage to Erin, and neither would Jørn.

Brendan had to rely on the information Erik passed on from Berit for news of his master’s progress. Despite the fact the young man had received more individual attention than his crew, Jørn’s recovery was progressing slowly. Because nothing about his master had impressed him in the brief time he had known him, Brendan would not have been surprised if he had succumbed to the mysterious fever that had felled so many of his crew.

At other times Brendan tried to be optimistic and hoped Jørn would soon recover the strength to enthusiastically welcome Jarald’s offer to captain the rescue voyage, and also to send him along as a free man. He was fairly certain that approach would appeal to Jørn rather than having to attempt to rescue his uncle and cousin himself so soon after a serious illness. Whether or not that would actually happen, Brendan had to wait and see. He had never been the patient sort, and the delay left him feeling anxious and out of sorts, especially so when he had to spend his nights alone longing for the sweet company of an irresistible beauty who would no longer even speak to him.

Dana was pleased with herself for effectively hiding the pain Brendan had caused her. It had been no small effort to avoid him when he was frequently passing nearby, but she had stubbornly pretended not to see him. Berit had been with her almost constantly since Jørn’s return, and while her cousin had a curious nature, she did not suspect Dana was deliberately avoiding Brendan, or the reason why she did so. They spoke frequently of the coming voyage, Dana with eager anticipation, and Berit with dread.

“Your mother is going to let you go, isn’t she?” Berit asked with an impatient toss of the honey-blonde mane she still wore falling free. That prospect was so frightening she had not even considered demanding the same privilege for herself.

“Yes, and while Erik won’t need it, I’ll look after him for you. He’ll not only return home safely, but as a hero as well, and that will undoubtedly influence your mother to treat him more kindly.”

“She might still expect Jørn to fight him,” Berit reminded her cousin.

While Dana had not apologized to her aunt for the part she had played in Berit’s kidnapping, Grena had not appeared angry with her. In fact, while her aunt had been more reserved in manner than usual, she had not been unfriendly. She hoped the woman felt guilty about sleeping with Jarald, but she had vowed never to let her aunt know she was aware of the indiscretion.

“I don’t think so, Berit. Your mother seems to have changed somehow. My mother was always the calm, reflective sister, but now I see those same traits in Aunt Grena too.”

“I’ve not spoken with her about anything except Jørn’s health. I’m afraid to,” Berit admitted sadly. “I don’t want to upset her when she’s so worried about my brother.”

Influenced by Freya’s confidence, Dana assured Berit the future could not help but be far brighter than the present, but she was thinking only of bringing her father and brother home, and didn’t allow herself to dwell on what might lie beyond that happy day.

The third morning after his return, Jørn finally felt well enough to relate in more detail how Haakon and Svien had become Trom’s prisoners. While Grena had been reluctant to allow Erik to be present, Freya insisted that Jørn’s story was far too important to the rescue effort for him to be excluded. Using the same reasoning, Erik brought Brendan into the small bedchamber with him. With Freya, Grena, Dana, and Berit already present, the room was so crowded that Soren and Thora had to listen from the doorway.

Unaware of the undercurrent of hostility that flowed between many of those surrounding him, Jørn gathered his courage, but his voice was still no more than a hoarse whisper as he began to speak. “The English have accepted us, and our position in the Danelaw is now secure. This summer we heard talk of Danes settling in Erin as well. It seems the people there are eager to welcome us because they know we’ll help them rout the Norsemen.”

Brendan clenched his fists at his sides as he wondered if Jørn’s story could possibly be true. Everyone despised the Norsemen, for they had ravaged his homeland for nearly a hundred years, but that his countrymen would ask help from Danes to defeat their enemy of long standing struck him as too desperate and dangerous a ploy to be believed. He did not speak up, however, but continued to listen without drawing attention to himself.

Jørn continued, but with increasing difficulty. “I wanted to visit Erin, to see for myself what the prospects for trade were, but Haakon and Svien were against it.” He paused then, his lips trembling slightly. “I kept telling them, if we were among the first to establish trade, then untold riches would be ours. Haakon said we already possessed sufficient wealth, but I continued to argue. When I threatened to sail to Erin on my own, he said he had never seen me show so much ambition. Because he didn’t want me to make such a voyage alone, he and Svien went with me. I had gotten the route from a man in the Danelaw. He told me it would lead me to a safe harbor, but it led only to Trom. I’m to blame for what happened, and I dare not hope that any of you will ever forgive me.”

Fearing Jørn would be overcome with guilt and weep uncontrollably as he had on the morning he had arrived, Brendan spoke up to distract him. “Is Trom still camped at the mouth of the River Shannon?”

At first Jørn did not recognize the Celt, for his appearance and manner of dress had improved greatly since they had parted. Realizing the cause of his confusion, Brendan reminded him who he was, and the young man tried to smile. “Of course, Brendan. Had I known we would be going to Erin, I would have taken you with me.”

Startled by that comment, Dana turned to look at her former lover and found his full attention focused on her rather than on Jørn. As one, they had realized such a decision would have prevented them from meeting, perhaps forever. The sorrow of that possibility jarred them both, but she was the first to look away.

Only Erik saw the silent exchange, and ignoring its significance, he quickly stepped forward to explain that Jarald would soon be arriving with his ship and crew. “I mean to help him deliver the ransom. You need only rest and regain your strength.”

Greatly alarmed by the mention of the ransom, Jørn tried to sit up straight, but overcome with dizziness, he fell back into the heap of quilts that covered the bed. “It may already be too late,” he mumbled despondently. “We were to sail home, gather the ransom, and begin the return voyage that same day, or—” Seeing Freya’s anxious glance, the pale young man fell silent.

They had already learned from the crew members who had not been stricken with the fever that Trom had demanded a thousand pounds of silver. While that was a huge sum, Freya had readily supplied it. “We have the ransom, Jørn, and we’ll leave as soon as Jarald returns,” Erik assured him. “The good weather will hold and we’ll make up whatever time has been lost.”

“I must go too,” Jørn insisted weakly. “Trom will deal only with me.”

“Trom will be too eager to receive the ransom to care who delivers it,” Erik predicted. “If you tried to sail with us, you would be far too likely to fall ill again, and you’d not be able to deliver anything if you didn’t survive the journey.”

Jørn winced, but not wanting to take such a grave risk, he readily gave in. “I’ll tell you all I can about Trom before you go.”

As her son closed his eyes, Grena recognized he was too exhausted to say more, and she motioned for everyone to leave. Because they all shared the same need to complete their plans, they gathered around the hearth in the hall to discuss them. When Dana sat down between her mother and Erik, Brendan chose to stand across from her. He was badly disappointed he had not been able to strike a bargain with Jørn for his freedom, as remaining a thrall put him at a great disadvantage. Thinking, if he did not acknowledge his status, it might go unnoticed, he was the first to speak.

“I can guide Jarald’s ship to a secluded harbor above the Shannon. Trom will expect us to come from the south, not the north, so the advantage will be ours. Jarald and his men can wait in hiding until I have the men I’ll gather in place. We can surround Trom before he realizes he’s in danger.”

“You really don’t believe paying the ransom in a straightforward manner is even a possibility?” Freya inquired.

While he thought he had made himself clear on that subject during their last conversation, Brendan did not react in a hostile fashion. “No, Trom has absolutely no sense of honor. He has often demanded tribute from towns in exchange for peace. Then when he has every last item of value the townspeople possess, he attacks them anyway, sets fire to every dwelling, and slaughters the men. The women are usually dead in a day or two, and the children sold as slaves.”

Hoping that the gruesome story had sickened everyone, as it did him, Brendan continued in a softer tone. “We ought to have the silver to ransom your husband and son with us, though, because it’s impossible to say how elaborate a trick we might be forced to play, but you’ll not lose a single coin.”

“The silver means nothing to us, Brendan. It’s only our loved ones’ lives that are precious,” Freya said.

“Of course,” Brendan acknowledged with a slight bow.

As he was speaking, Grena had entered the room. “How can we be certain you don’t plan to steal the ransom for yourself?”

“You’ll have to trust me,” Brendan replied, his expression becoming one of open contempt.

Grena laughed as though that were a preposterous request, and knowing the proud Celt had been insulted, Dana immediately took his side. “Brendan is trusting us, Aunt Grena. He may know what sort of man Trom is, but he doesn’t know my father and brother. What if they are worse?”

The question hurt far more than Grena’s, for it forced Brendan to realize that by freeing Haakon and Svien, he might be putting his own people in jeopardy. What if they had no more character than Trom? What if, once freed, they turned on him and killed his friends? Trom would betray an ally he no longer needed without a second thought. Would Haakon and Svien do the same?

There had been more than thirty men with Jørn. Surely Jarald would arrive with that many. If there were sixty with Haakon and Svien, he would be turning loose nearly a hundred Danes within striking distance of his home. Was gaining his freedom worth such a risk? How he could have thought only of himself, and not his family and friends, Brendan did not understand, but he felt not only ashamed but exceedingly stupid for having been so trusting of his master’s people.

“I have work to do,” he announced as he turned toward the door, no longer interested in discussing the rescue effort and not caring if his hasty departure was rude.

When Erik turned toward her, obviously alarmed, Dana quickly rose to her feet. “Aunt Grena, whether or not you trust Brendan doesn’t matter. He’ll play a vital part in my father and brother’s rescue. Please excuse me. There are several chores I neglected to mention to him.” Lifting her flowing garments above her feet, she fled the hall in a most unladylike haste.

Although Brendan heard Dana calling his name, he kept right on walking. He went on past the tents, waving to Moira, whom he had noticed on several occasions with a slender red-haired man who seemed to be thriving with her care. The shy maid blushed, but she was pleased he had noticed her, while her companion frowned, clearly disgruntled that he had lost her full attention.

Knowing Brendan had to hear her, Dana ceased calling to him. She slowed her pace to her normal one and followed him down to the docks. When he finally turned to face her, she didn’t rebuke him for ignoring her. He was wearing the same hostile scowl that had marred his features upon leaving the house, and she was glad there was no one nearby to overhear what could easily become a heated argument if she failed to calm him.

“I know you don’t want to hear my thoughts on trust again, so I won’t repeat them, but I was trying to convince my aunt to be still, not attempting to frighten you. My father will be grateful for whatever help you give us. You’ll never be sorry that you set him and my brother free. Only good can come of it.”