Delivering Kadlin (6 page)

“It was from an Eastern traveler,” Grima explained. “He was my lover until he turned into a brute and beat me.”

Kadlin knew the shock must have shown on her face. “If he was such a brute, why did he leave you with this beautiful gift?”

Grima shrugged her narrow shoulders. “He didn’t put up much of an argument once I’d lopped his head off with it.” A wicked giggle filled the yard, and Kadlin realized it was the first time she’d heard the old woman laugh.

“Now mind the blade, girl. It’s still plenty sharp.” Grima replaced the cover and slid the long handle under the saddle straps. Kadlin swung smoothly onto the pony’s back and smiled at her benefactor. “Thank you, Grima.”

“And what will you do when you come to the end of this mad journey?”

That very question had kept Kadlin awake all night. She looked at the kind old witch and blinked back her tears. “I will win Bjorn’s life by paying the jarl his due.”

* * * *

The sun dipped below the tree line over Kadlin’s left shoulder, covering the narrow trail in black shadows. It would be dark soon, and she’d seen no sign of the red rune stone that would signal the next leg of her journey.

The woods seemed to close in on her, and she worried that she had ridden past marker. She was not even sure that she was on the right path. At times, it had been so overgrown that it seemed to disappear entirely. In the worst spots, sharp branches tugged at her trousers and tall ferns brushed the pony’s belly. Soon, she would not be able to see well enough to go forward, and yet, she couldn’t spend the night in the dense forest. There was no place to lie down, let alone start a fire.

As the darkness gathered, she strained to detect movement in the foliage at her sides. Every rustling leaf and snapping twig sent a jolt of fear up her spine.

A loud crash to her right caused every muscle in Kadlin’s body to tense. Her pony must have felt her reaction because he stopped short. Something very large moved through the underbrush.

Kadlin felt frozen. She forced herself to move and reached down to grab the axe. She tugged at the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. The noises grew louder, and she thought she would faint from the fright. She tugged again at the axe handle, and it finally slid from the straps. She trembled, and her fingers couldn’t make purchase on the leather cover. She jerked her head from side to side, trying to find an escape route. There was nowhere to turn, and so she sat still and waited for her fate. She cringed, drawing her shoulders inward and squinting in the direction of the noise. She waited for the bear or wolf or whatever slobbering beast that would fly onto the trail and rip out her life.

When the huge white stag stepped onto the path, Kadlin could not comprehend what she saw. The animal regarded her for a moment then turned and walked away. His snowy hide shone in even the waning light.

She slid the axe handle back into place and urged the pony forward. The stag stayed a few paces in front of them, and Kadlin gratefully followed him like a beacon. Surely, this was Freya, come to show her the way again.

It was almost full dark when a glow of dusky light shone through the buck’s antlers. Kadlin cried out in relief. The stag bounded off the trail, back into the forest a moment before her pony stepped into the wide clearing. At the center of the space was a huge red stone, taller than a man, and she could just make out the sharp angles of the runes in the setting sun.

Kadlin dismounted, unburdened her pony and tied him to the edge of the clearing where he immediately bent his head to eat the tender grass. She set her gear in the shadow of the monument and quickly made a small fire. She drank from her wineskin and had a meager dinner of tough, dried venison. Before closing her eyes for the night, she added another log to the fire to keep away the predators. The long, fearful ride had drained her body and fatigued her mind. She was fast asleep as soon as she laid down her head.

She was up at first light. The fire had burnt out, and she chewed mouthfuls of jerky while she loaded the pony. The path east was broad and clear, and she thanked Freya for seeing her safely through this first leg of the journey. She set off on the trail, grateful for having survived thus far and wondering what this day, and especially the evening, would bring. Tonight, she would face her uncle’s debtor. She would deliver the jarl his due. And if the gods saw fit, she would win her lover’s freedom.

* * * *

By the time the sun was directly overhead, Kadlin smelled the salt in the air. The trees to her left grew sparser. An hour later, the earth to the north dropped away to a low, sheer cliff, and she heard the waves breaking on the shore. The trail dipped up and down along the coastline until she traveled at the level of the sea. The water was a cold gray and seemed to go on to the end of the world. It was not yet sunset when she saw the first sod house ahead. Cattle were penned in neat corrals and rows of fish hung drying on tall racks.

As she rode, the houses came closer together. The belly of the sun was just touching the horizon when she led her pony into the little village. The buildings were in neat rows along wide roads that radiated out from a huge stone well. Children chased one another between the homes, and it took Kadlin a moment to realize that there were no adults outside.

A group of boys caught sight of her and threw down the sticks they’d been using for make-believe swords. They ran up to her, and she stopped her pony.

A tall boy with long, light brown hair was the first to speak. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“I am Kadlin. Who are you?”

“I am Ulf, son of Gunnar.”

“Ah, Ulf, ‘the wolf’. A strong name for a strong Viking.”

The boy puffed out his chest. “What do you want?”

Kadlin bit back a smile. It was obvious that this boy had been put in charge, and he was taking his job very seriously. “I am looking for the jarl.”

“Are ye friend or foe?” he asked, squinting up at her.

“I’m friend. But if I were foe, I probably wouldn’t tell you, now would I?”

The other boys laughed and jostled their leader. “Shut up, ye sons of whores!” he thundered and shoved the nearest boy into the dirt.

He squinted back at Kadlin. “What’s your business with the jarl?”

“I come bearing gifts. He’s expecting me.”

The boy looked her up and down. “You’re a pretty one. What kind of gifts could you have for the jarl?”

“It is a secret. If I spoke it aloud, I would ruin the surprise, and the jarl would be very disappointed.”

The boy crossed his arms over his chest. “He’s busy.”

“Busy with what?”

“They’re celebrating the voyage.”

Kadlin’s stomach knotted, and the threat of tears pricked at her eyes. “They’ve sailed then?”

Ulf rolled his eyes. “No, you daft woman, they’ve not sailed yet! They leave in the morning. They’re celebrating tonight.”

Kadlin huffed out a breath of relief. It was quickly replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread at the task before her. “Good. Where will I find him?”

Ulf set his fists on his hips and glared up at her. The boy who’d been shoved to the ground stood and knocked the dust off of his trousers then pointed down the road. “They’re in the great hall.”

Ulf wheeled around and pushed the boy back down. Kadlin nodded her thanks and clucked the pony forward. She heard music and bawdy laughter and followed the sound to a long, low building. Huge double doors were propped slightly ajar, and the smell of roasting meat tumbled out with the raucous din.

Her heart thundered in her ears when she slid off of her mount. She smoothed her hair and straightened her tunic. She pulled back her shoulders and drew in a deep breath. Gathering the pony’s reins in one hand, she yanked open the door with the other. She stood dumbstruck for a moment, unable to move. The great hall was a riot of sights and sounds. Men and woman danced and groped at each other, and some even rutted half naked in the far corners. Rows of tables lined each side of the room, and at the far end was a dais with an enormous carved chair facing the door.

Kadlin fixed her eyes on the tiny wan man perched on the throne. He leaned on one of the ornate scrolled arms looking out on the chaos and seemingly bored stiff. His skin was nearly as gray as his thin scraggly hair, and he appeared as frail as a bird.

Kadlin bit down on her inner cheek and tried to summon her courage.
This must be done. It is the right thing.
She only hoped that this little wisp of a man could be reasoned with.

With one more deep breath, she stepped onto the rough stone, leading her pony behind her. She felt the revelers stop one by one and bore their eyes into her. The music stopped, and the great hall fell silent except for the clop of the pony’s hooves on the floor.

She kept her eyes fixed on the jarl, and when he finally saw her he sat up straight in his seat. “Well, what have we here?”

“Kadlin!” Bjorn shouted from behind her, but she didn’t turn. She focused only on the jarl and her mission.

She led her pony to the foot of the dais and concentrated on speaking clearly. “I am Kadlin, niece of Ivar. I have come to pay you your due.”

“Kadlin, no!”

She clenched her jaw at the sound of Bjorn’s tortured voice.

The jarl waved his hand, and she heard scuffling behind her. She continued to stare forward. The jarl looked over her shoulder and jerked his head back. Two men wrestled a struggling Bjorn onto the platform and held him in place at the jarl’s side.

The old man appraised Kadlin with a lecherous grin on his face. “So, Bjorn, your escaped charge has found her way here herself. She is a succulent jewel, isn’t she?”

Bjorn dropped his head to his chest, and her heart nearly broke at the sight of it.

“Please, jarl,” he said, not looking up. “You do not want this one. She is headstrong and will bring you no end of trouble. Let me sail for you. I promise I will bring back the most beautiful treasures for you or I shall die trying.”

“Ah, so that’s what you’re playing at, Bjorn. You want her for yourself.”

Bjorn looked up at him. “No, not at all. I was glad to be rid of her. I want to call that land my own, but I would not feel right paying my debt with such a liability.”

The jarl rose slowly from his seat, wincing as he took each shaky step towards Kadlin. He struggled down from the riser and limped to where she stood. He was a hand’s breadth shorter than her, and she thought she must outweigh him by half.

When he reached out and slid his dry fingertips over her face, she ground her teeth together until her jaw ached. She concentrated on slowing her breath as his hand traveled downward over her throat and into the front of her tunic. He wrapped a claw-like hand around her breast and squeezed hard. Tears of humiliation sprung to Kadlin’s eyes, and Bjorn roared in outrage. Two more men joined the others restraining him.

The jarl didn’t turn but smirked at the ruckus behind him. “Such soft flesh could make even my old stick hard,” he said.

Nervous laughter filled the hall. Another ferocious growl came from the dais, and Kadlin saw one of the men pull back his fist at the level of Bjorn’s jaw.

“Stop!” she screamed. She leveled her stare at the sneering jarl. “Let us make a wager.”

When the laughter finally died down and the jarl had caught his breath, he shuffled back onto the platform and slumped in his chair with a wheezing cough. “A wager? What do you have in mind, girl?”

Kadlin felt all eyes on her. “I will wager that I can show you treasure such as you have never seen. And if I am correct, I will hand over the treasure, and you will release me and my pony and consider Bjorn’s debt paid.”

The jarl chuckled. “I’ve seen plenty of sweet cunts. I can’t imagine yours is any more of a treasure than the next.”

She waited for the fresh round of laughter to subside. Her voice cut through the last fading sniggers. “Are you
afraid
to accept my challenge?”

The hall fell silent.

“Afraid? Don’t you see this is a bet you can’t win? No matter what you show me, I can just say I’ve seen better, and you will lose.”

Kadlin glanced at Bjorn, and he shook his head, his eyes pleading with her to stop this madness. She bowed deeply then straightened and pinned the jarl with her stare. “I am also wagering that you are a man of great character, and you will honestly assess what I present.”

The jarl leaned forward. “And when you lose?”

“
If
I lose, you will own me and my pony and you can do what you like with him,” she said, nodding to Bjorn.

The jarl clapped his hands, “I accept!”

Bjorn sat slumped forward on riser. It seemed a colossal struggle for him to even raise his eyes to see the wager play out. Kadlin walked to her pony and drew out the long axe. She carefully unwrapped the sheath and carried it to the jarl. She turned the blade in the light to show off the exquisite filigree.

“It is very rare. It comes from the East and can sever a man’s head with a single swipe,” she said.

The old man leaned forward and studied the gleaming etched surface. His shoulders began to shake, and Kadlin wondered if he was having some kind of fit. It wasn’t until he sat back hard in his chair and howled that she realized he was laughing. When he had finally composed himself, he wiped his eyes and gestured to the long wall to his left. Kadlin turned, and he lost himself in laughter again. Hanging from the wall were ornate swords and shields, and at least a dozen long-handled axes identical to the one Kadlin held in her hands.

“Well, my dear, I don’t know who you think you are,” he wheezed, “but I can quite honestly say that I
have
seen such treasure. Now, why don’t you pull down those trousers and let me have a look at my reward?”

This time the laughter was deafening, and Kadlin had a sudden urge to swing the blade and lop off the braying ass’s head. Instead, she laid the weapon at his feet and waited patiently.

When at last it was quiet, she cleared her throat for attention. She stood and faced people in the hall. “I am Kadlin, daughter of Olav the shipbuilder, granddaughter of Sven the shipbuilder, great-granddaughter of Valdemar the shipbuilder, and great-great-granddaughter of Trygve royal shipbuilder to Queen Kunigunde across the sea, who paid him handsomely.”