Captive Heart (9 page)

“Two of my brothers are away, gone trading to Kaupang. My father was wounded, but how severely I do not know. You met Erik, at sixteen he is not half the man I was at his age. He enjoys playing the jester to amuse us more than anything else, but he may be able to command such an expedition if my father is able to give him assistance.”

“Will your brothers be home soon?” Celiese pushed her hair away from her face, but the breeze tossed her curls carelessly about, blocking her vision once again.

“No, not for weeks. They were journeying north and may be delayed time and again before they return. They knew nothing of the plans for our wedding before they left and have no reason to return home quickly.”

Knowing that time was their enemy, Celiese hastened to warn him. “Mylan, the Dragon was badly damaged by the storm. It is Raktor’s pride and he will make haste to repair it. That will mean activity on his docks, as he will lose no time in restoring his largest vessel to full use. The summer is nearly here, and he never remains at home. Surely this year will be no exception.”

Mylan glanced at the lovely young woman, his expression filled with frustration. “If you think of any more problems, Celiese, I shall simply strangle you myself and swim home!”

Ignoring his threat, Celiese continued, “I meant only that we have no time to waste waiting for others to come for us. Perhaps we should break into the house tonight, free your kinsmen and murder all of Raktor’s sons in their beds. Would you prefer that plan?”

“How can I devise any sort of plan when I have only a traitor to help me?” Mylan responded bitterly.

Shocked by that cruel insult, Celiese stood up and backed away. “Had Raktor raised his sword against you rather than his foot, I would still have blocked his way, and you see a traitor when you look at me? I am better off in the sea than married to a husband such as you!”

“I am not your husband!” The handsome man shouted defiantly, his light eyes blazing with a furious gleam as he denied her again.

Celiese turned and walked into the water. Her dress was wet clear past her knees when Mylan realized she would not turn back. He leapt to his feet and overtook her swiftly, sweeping her up into his arms. “Fool! I will not let you drown, not when you are the only help I have! Now come back and tell me how we might enter Raktor’s house undetected.”

Celiese leaned her head against Mylan’s broad chest as he carried her ashore. When he placed her feet on the sand she did not move from his embrace but stayed close. “If you will help me up the bluff I will go to Raktor and tell him you drowned. Tonight when everyone is sleeping I will unlock the side door on the north and let you in. We can free your kinsmen and capture Raktor and his sons before they know the house has been entered. Your men are few, but we will have the advantage of surprise on our side and with Raktor taken prisoner his warriors will not fight. They are all cowards, without any spirit of their own.”

Mylan’s amber eyes searched Celiese’s delicate features slowly as she outlined her plan, but he could detect no trace of deceit in her expression. She seemed serious and determined, but still he was unsure, “You expect me to trust you after what has happened?”

“You shall have to trust me, for there is no one else here to help you.” Celiese could understand his hesitation. None of her story made any sense, no matter how true it all was. She waited; hoping only that he felt for her the deepening affection she could not deny she felt for him.

“What shall we do with Olgrethe? Is she truly as beautiful as all say?”

Celiese did not let her disappointment show in her eyes, but his question brought real pain, an anguish as deep as any she’d ever known. “Yes, and since you insist we are not married perhaps you will decide to take her as your wife. She will not disappoint you as I have.”

With a rueful laugh Mylan drew Celiese close to his heart and hugged her warmly. “Disappointment does not begin to describe my torment, but we have no time to discuss emotions, Celiese. If we are going to attempt this deed we must begin without delay.”

“Yes, that is true.” Celiese stepped back from his arms and smiled bravely. “You will have to help me climb to the top of the bluff.”

“You are not frightened?” Mylan took her arm as they moved across the sand.

“Yes, I am terrified, but I will not fail you,” the pretty blonde vowed confidently.

“Celiese.” Mylan spoke her name in a hoarse whisper as he drew her back into his arms. This time his passion was no longer tender, but violent as he crushed her slender body against his own. His deep kiss left her shaking in his embrace, her lips bruised by the savage force of his kiss. “You dare not fail me again, Celiese, or I will see you join Raktor upon his funeral pyre. Should you choose to serve him again rather than me you will continue to serve him in Valhalla!”

Celiese shook her head slowly, a sly smile coming to her lips. She knew the Danes comprised only one group of the men known as Vikings, but she found his beliefs as well as his threat ridiculous. “Your custom of sacrificing the living to serve the dead is foolish, Mylan, for I am Christian and would not willingly join Raktor in anything, most especially not your battle-filled vision of eternity. If you have so little faith in me, kill me now and be done with it. It will save me the pain of climbing this steep embankment, at least.” Her defiant gaze dared him to end her life as he had threatened, but she stood calmly, her fear of him obviously slight.

Mylan’s fiery gaze did not soften, for no matter how much he admired her bravery, he did not trust her one bit. “I will not destroy the only help I have, no matter how little faith I might have in you. Now let us cease this argument and hurry. We will have time enough to talk after I have captured Raktor.”

Celiese did not speak again until she called to the man standing guard. Her voice startled him so badly he wheeled, sword drawn, ready to strike her down. Then he recognized her and ran forward. “We thought you had drowned—how have you survived?”

“I awoke on the sand after the storm, but I was too weak to climb the cliff until I had rested. Help me reach the house please, for my step is still unsteady, and I must tell Raktor that Aldred’s son is dead.”

Seeing a chance to gain favor with the powerful Viking, the man left his post to escort Celiese to her home, and Mylan crossed the deserted terrain swiftly to find a vantage point hidden among the thick stand of trees on the north side of the dwelling. His wait would be a tedious one, but he hoped it would not be futile.

Raktor leapt to his feet as Celiese entered the sun- drenched hall. “I thought we had lost you both, Celiese.” He reached out and drew the trembling young woman near. “What of Mylan, do you have news of his fate?”

Celiese’s eyes filled with tears at the memory of their ordeal and what was yet to come. Her downcast expression was most convincing in its sorrow. “We were together for only a short while. When he could no longer cling to the piece of mast we’d grabbed I tried to save him but could not. He is dead, drowned.”

Raktor nodded as she spoke, considering her narrative carefully before he summoned another of his warriors. “Take this woman and tie her up with the other prisoners. They will all leave for Kaupang at nightfall. You have returned just in time to meet your destiny, my beauty. I am selling you, for I can no longer trust you, not even to serve my daughter.”

“After I have been so loyal to her all these years?” Celiese shouted angrily, arguing heatedly with the hateful man. Yet the fear that clutched her heart was overpowering. If she were gone Mylan would not know. He would come and find the door locked and think only that she had betrayed him! She screamed and tried to slip past the burly man who’d been ordered to remove her, but he only laughed as he swung his fist into the side of her head, sending her sprawling across the stone floor, where he scooped her up and tossed her limp body over his shoulder as if she were no more precious than a sack of grain.

Chapter Five

Celiese fought the man in every way possible, biting and kicking fiercely as he bound her wrists and ankles, but he paid scant heed to her heated protests at the injustice of her treatment and tossed her roughly into the room with the other captives. They all were bound as firmly as she was—to her advantage, as they turned hate-filled stares in her direction. Several started to complain.

One young man nudged another. “Look what Raktor has thrown away, is that not the woman who posed as Mylan’s bride?”

“Aye, that is the slut.” Clearing his throat so he could spit on her, the man realized just in time that their quarters were too confined for such a display not to splatter his friends as well, and he had to swallow rather than carry out his insulting gesture.

Celiese could not see if the guard had remained outside the door but dropped her voice to a whisper in case he might be listening. “I am Mylan’s wife, truly I am. Why else would Raktor have decided to sell me too? He believes Mylan to be dead—but he is alive, waiting now to set us all free.”

Celiese’s words were met with loud jeers and rude insults from the prisoners, for none thought her words worth hearing. She counted quickly, there were twenty-six men but only three other women, pretty young girls who were doubtless slaves as she had been. “Will none of you help me? If we work together we can get free and overpower the guards when next they come!” She pleaded with them just as she’d argued with her husband, exhorting them to attempt an escape she was certain would succeed if they but worked to help each other. Unlike Mylan, this surly group would not listen to her plan. Every face turned away with a disgusted sneer, and she was left with no hope of ever seeing her dear husband again.

When the guards next returned they were heavily armed, ruffians who bullied the captives as they led them to the docks, where they divided them into two groups. From what Celiese could discern the other group were all warriors, Mylan’s kin who’d come to attend the wedding, while she was pushed toward the captured slaves. In addition to the three women, there were seven men, two barely out of their teens, obviously fieldhands who’d somehow been caught during the fighting. She doubted they would be able to raise any sort of resistance that would enable them to escape. She looked back toward the house, praying Mylan would see her and understand what had happened, but it was nearly dusk and the visibility was poor, and she saw no sign he might be observing their departure. She was shoved into one of the Dragon’s sister ships, a smaller but no less sleek vessel named the Elk of the Sea, and left huddled with the three other girls to endure a miserable journey that seemed to have no end. The prisoners had all been fed before she had joined them, and she was given nothing to eat when she asked the guards for food. They only laughed at her and threatened to beat her senseless unless she were still. Silenced, Celiese could barely control her temper, for she knew Mylan would rescue his kinsman somehow, but would any of those hostile men tell him where she had been taken? If she were sold more than once would he ever be able to find her? More frightening still, would he even want to try? By the time she finally fell into an exhausted sleep she no longer cared what dreadful fate awaited her, for if she’d lost Mylan the best part of her life was already over.

Kaupang was a heavily trafficked commercial port, the center of Viking trade, and by the time Raktor’s ship reached the city Celiese had confirmed her worst fears. None of Mylan’s family was on board. The people who’d been sent to be sold had all been slaves in Aldred’s home, household servants and farmhands caught up in the net thrown out the night of the wedding. She had no hope anyone would come to rescue them now, for she overheard one of the guards saying all of Aldred’s kin had been taken only a short distance by ship and then marched inland to be held for ransom, and she knew by the time Mylan had secured their release her trail would be impossible to follow. Her three female companions cried pitifully at the thought of being separated after several years of friendship, but they did no more than spit upon her as they left the ship. The sorry group was marched to the slave market where the slavemaster examined them thoroughly as if they were prize horses about to be traded for untold wealth rather than a bedraggled group of unfortunate servants who could be expected to bring little in the way of profit. Celiese’s once beautiful silk gown was no more than rags, her superb figure now far too thin, but the sharp-eyed man stopped before her, shocked by her defiant stare.

“I am the wife of the Dane, Mylan, eldest son of Aldred Vandahl. If you but send him a message that I am here he will come for me and pay you any price for my safe return.” Celiese had no hope that that were true, but any tactic that would stall her sale at a public auction was one she would attempt. “He will buy all of us at twice what others would pay. You must send for him at once.”

The wiry old man raked his fingertip down Celiese’s sunburned cheek, then tore off the remnants of her wedding dress with one swift tug so he could look at her more closely. He walked around her slowly, eyeing her reddened skin with disgust before he jabbed his bony fingers into her bruised side. “I have heard of the man, but how could Mylan’s wife have come to such a sorry state?”

“I was kidnapped and beaten, but if you will but let my husband know where I might be found he will reward you well, for he loves me dearly.” Celiese looked the man straight in the eye and made no effort to hide her nakedness, but her hopes for rescue were dashed when the three girls with her began to call her foul names, scoffed at her story, and said such vile things about her that the slavemaster gave her a rude shove and tossed her back her ragged dress.