Fires of Winter (9 page)

Yarmille stood by the opening, gowned in soft blue linen, a gold band securing her straw-colored hair in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, “I did not know Anselm had returned.”

“Just this day,” Ogden replied. “The feast is in progress now.”

“Really?” Yarmille raised a tawny brow. This woman had been a beauty in her day, but no traces remained now that she neared two score and ten years. It was a wonder that this was so, since she had not led an overly hard life. “I trust the raid went well?”

Ogden grunted and released his hold on Brenna. “As well as any. There was treasure for all, and seven captives returned with us. One man went to Valhalla, praise his luck! My brother was wounded, though not badly.” Ogden did not say how. “I believe Anselm will give him one of the captives, and one will go to the widow of the dead warrior.”

“And this one?” Yarmile nodded toward Brenna, who stood erect, her raven locks falling about her shoulders in disarray. “He gave her to you?”

Ogden shook his head. “To Garrick. She was the one offered to him as bride.”

That story had traveled far. “The Lady Brenna? Well, well. So Anselm kept his promise.” At the Viking’s questioning look, she explained, “I was there after that fool arranger left. I believe Anselm’s words were, ‘A bride is offered, a bride Garrick will get, though no wedding will take place.’”

Ogden laughed, for he knew of Anselm’s hatred for the Celts, and that he would never allow such an alliance. “A bride with no wedding vows—I like that. But I doubt Garrick will.”

“How so? She looks pretty enough. In something other than those awful leggings, she should be quite beautiful.”

“Mayhaps, mistress. But her beauty does not disguise her loathing.”

Yarmille moved to the girl and turned her face toward the door to see better in the light, but Brenna snapped her head away, not even deigning to meet the woman’s eyes.

Yarmille frowned disapprovingly. “A stubborn one, eh?”

“To be sure,” Ogden answered sourly. “She has the look of a runaway, and will no doubt try to bolt at first chance. She is a fighter too, this one; in truth, she is trained in warfare. So be careful, mistress.”

“What am
I
supposed to do with her?”

Ogden shrugged. “I have done as instructed by Mistress Heloise. I have delivered the girl to you. She is in your care now, since you run Garrick’s house in his absence.”

“This I do not need,” Yarmille snapped irritably. “When Garrick left he took almost all of his slaves to sell, leaving me with only a few to care for this iceberg of a house. And now I have this one who will have to be closely watched.”

“Mistress Heloise suggested you leave the girl be until Garrick returns and decides how he will handle her. She will come herself in a week’s time to see if the
lady
has accepted her lot.”

“Heloise come here? Ha!” Yarmille laughed. “She must be most concerned about the girl if she will venture here when Garrick is not home.”

Ogden knew of the dislike the two women had for each other. Both had given Anselm a son. “My task is completed. Will you return with me to the feast, mistress? You have been invited by Anselm.”

Yarmile’s light blue eyes lit up with pleasure. “I will.” She walked to the opening which led to the cooking area and the stairs. “Janie, come here.”

A moment later, a tiny young woman dressed in a rough woolen shift appeared. “Mistress?”

“Janie, take this girl with you. Bathe her, feed her, then put her to bed in the master’s chamber—for now. Later I will decide where to put her permanently.”

“Yea, mistress,” the woman answered, looking curiously at Brenna.

“Now, Ogden, if you will take this girl up to Garrick’s chamber and watch her until a slave comes to guard her, I would be grateful.”

For Brenna, the week slipped by like the flight of a butterfly, ever so slowly. She had no awareness of time. The room she was kept in was large and cold, with no windows, and two doors that remained closed. Her anger reached an unholy state when she was tied to the large bed in her room after the first day, for the haughty Yarmille decided it was a waste of manpower for a slave to guard her.

Brenna was untied from the bed only to eat, bathe and relieve herself, but at these times a male slave accompanied Janie, though he was left outside the room. For the first two days Brenna refused to eat, knocking the tray of food to the floor in a burst of rage. She finally spoke, screaming curses of the devil that made Janie turn pale and sent her fleeing from the room, leaving the young male slave to tie Brenna to the bed. She fought and cursed him, too, but could do little with her wrists still bound.

After the third day, Brenna felt weak from lack of food and began to eat again, though grudgingly. She continued to be withdrawn, and ignored Janie when the girl came. The two meals she received daily were widely spaced. One was served before Janie began her duties; the other after she was finished for the day. During this long interval, Brenna was frustrated nearly to tears with her inability to move; her fury was not helped by her hunger, which grew as the day wore on.

She felt guilty, then maddened, because she was such a burden to poor Janie, who had to wait on her. She knew the girl worked hard the whole day long, and since Brenna’s arrival toiled even harder. Janie had kind words for her in the morning, but by the end of the day she was exhausted and as silent as Brenna. Brenna could hardly blame the girl for her abruptness at the day’s end. Though she had yet to make any overtures to Janie, she felt pity for her, an unusual emotion for Brenna.

Janie spoke Brenna’s tongue, but had also, by necessity, taught herself Norwegian. She had not mastered it fully yet, but knew enough to understand her orders without having to receive a beating. Brenna assumed Janie had also been taken captive, though how long ago she couldn’t guess and wouldn’t ask, for she resented the girl even though she knew Janie was only following Yarmille’s orders that Brenna be kept bound. That her own fate was destined to be the same as Janie’s was a certainty. She could never adjust to a life of servitude—she knew that. She would deal with that when the time came. If only it would come and she would be released!

Her thoughts turned to Garrick Haardrad—once her betrothed, now her master. She had often wondered about him in the past. She knew that he was young, having seen but twenty-five winters. That he had not married yet was her misfortune, for it drew Fergus to his clan to arrange a wedding that was never meant to be. She also knew now, after listening to his brother Hugh, that for some reason he hated women. This she could count as a blessing, she hoped. It might mean that he would leave her be, or he might cruelly mistreat her. She prayed for the first possibility, that his hatred would make him shun her. But if it was the other way, what then? Bound as she was now, she would be completely at his mercy. Beaten, unable to protect herself, perhaps killed. Damn Yarmille for her precautions!

After a week, Heloise came as promised. Brenna recognized her voice and that of Yarmille as they approached the room. As they entered, Heloise stopped short when she saw Brenna trussed on the bed, but Yarmille continued to walk into the room.

“You see,” Yarmille said, her voice condescending. “As I told you, she is but a nuisance.”

Heloise came closer, her eyes cold. “Is this the way you treat my son’s property, to tie her up like an animal?” she demanded angrily.

“Ogden said she had the look of a runaway,” Yarmille explained. “I only made sure she would be here on Garrick’s return.”

“Runaway?” Heloise shook her head in exasperation.

“Where would she go? There is no place. Nor do we know when Garrick will return. It could be months yet. Would you keep the girl like this indefinitely?”

“I—”

“Look at her!” Heloise said sharply. “She is pale and has grown thinner in only a week’s time. Have you no sense, woman? This girl will be a valuable asset to my son. He can sell her at market for a high price, or he can keep her for his own pleasure, but he will not appreciate the way you have taken her under your care in his absence.”

Yarmille could see the truth in this and she paled slightly. It would not do for the girl to waste away during her confinement. At once she became furious with the girl for putting her in this predicament, but she hid this successfully beneath the tight smile she gave Heloise.

“You are right. I will see to the girl myself henceforth. This one will greatly please Garrick. She may even make him forget about Morna, do you not agree?”

“That, old friend, is doubtful,” Heloise replied stiffly before she turned to Brenna. “You will be untied, child, but you must not attempt to escape from here. Do you understand?” she asked softly. “There is nowhere for you to go.”

Brenna could not respond to the kind words, for they offered little hope, especially after these two women had just discussed her as if she were a piece of property. She turned her head away.

Heloise sat down on the bed. “This stubborn silence does you no good, Brenna. I had hoped you would be at least a little reconciled to your new home by now. Anselm thought you would please Garrick. If you make the effort, ’twill go well for you.”

Brenna would not face her, but Heloise did not give up. “If you have fears, speak to me of them. Mayhaps I can relieve them. Brenna?” She hesitated, then added, “My son will not be difficult to serve. He is not demanding or cruel. Mayhaps you will even like him and find happiness here.”

Brenna’s head snapped around, her eyes glowing like polished silver. “Never!” she hissed, surprising both women with the force of her tone and the fact that she did indeed have a tongue. “I have no fear, mistress. ’Tis you who will have reason to fear, for you will rue the day you tried to make a slave of me! Blood will flow from it, no doubt that of your precious Garrick!”

“What did she say?” Yarmille demanded.

Heloise shook her head and sighed. “She is still overly bitter, but ’twill not last. She will soon find she has no alternative but to bend—a little, anyway.”

“And in the meantime?” Yarmille asked.

Heloise looked at Brenna thoughtfully, meeting her defiant gaze. “Will you behave if you are given the freedom of this room?”

“I make no promises!” Brenna retorted hotly and turned away again.

“Can you not be reasonable?”

Brenna would say no more, and Heloise gave up at last and left. Yarmille, however, remained.

“Well, Brenna Carmarham, now that her highness has departed, there is no need to free you just yet. This eve will be soon enough,” Yarmille said woodenly, though she spoke for her own benefit, never dreaming that Brenna understood her perfectly. “Tomorrow you will be given extra food to put some meat on your bones, and taken out to air—just like a rug, you might say.” She laughed at her own jest before she walked out of the room.

Brenna would have killed the woman if she had a sword in hand and was not still hindered by the cursed ropes. Of all the hypocritical, vile, loathsome creatures! Later she would be freed, at least, and on the morrow she would make plans to escape. They were fools to trust her!

T
he great Viking longship moved up the fjord like a huge dragon with oars for wings, and floated peacefully to its home. The men wished to cheer and make a ruckus as they passed Anselm’s landing, but Garrick stopped them. Though the midnight sun hovered like a large ball of fire on the horizon, it was still the middle of night, and nearly everyone would be sleeping soundly. There would be time aplenty on the morrow for revelry and the greetings of old friends. But for now Garrick wanted to be home, to sleep the remainder of the night in his own bed.

The men would stay the night at Garrick’s house. In the morning they would go on to their homes, collect their families and return to Garrick’s for a gala celebration. Exhaustion lay heavily on them all, for they had fought a storm that ended only hours earlier.

Two men elected to stay on the ship, since the cargo would not be unloaded that night. The others followed Garrick up the narrow cliff path, carrying only essentials with them. The house was dark and silent, for the weather was not yet cold enough to leave fires burning through the night. Sunlight streamed in through the open door, giving them ample light to make their way about without banging into the long tables and benches which filled the hall.

Garrick made his way up the darkened stairs with little difficulty, for he knew this house well, having spent a good part of his youth here with his grandfather. On the second floor were four rooms: his own, the large master chamber on one side of the stairs; a small sewing room on the other side; across the wide corridor, a guest room furnished with two large beds; and the room given to Yarmille, his housekeeper. At the end of the corridor at the rear of the house was a door which opened onto stone steps leading outside. The door was there mainly to let in the fresh air of summer, but Garrick was rarely home at that time to enjoy it.

He opened the door now to light the corridor, then returned to the hall for some of his men, Perrin included, to show them to the guest room. The others would bed down in the hall on benches, hard beds being more to their liking.