Maidensong (19 page)

 
“
Your word to spare my brother, of course,” she
said. “My consent would depend on your promise to
keep Ketil safe.”

 
“Of course,” he said quickly.

 
“
If I went, then Ketil must come with me. Otherwise, how could I be sure you would keep your word?”

 
“How dare you doubt the oath of Sogna?” Gunnar’s
eyes narrowed to glittering slits. “
If
you were a man,
you’d be dead now. I’ll swear on any god you care to
name. May Astryd never bear me a son if I break this
bargain.”

 
Neither of them said any more for the space of several heartbeats.

 
“But I belong to Bjorn. I am not free, and therefore this conversation is meaningless,” she said, trying not to let him see how he’d panicked her. She knew now how the coney who escaped a lunge from the hawk felt;
a piercing scream, a flash of feathers, and the scrape of
sharp talons missing her by a hair's breadth. She con
trolled her tremble only with effort. “If you will excuse
me, my lord, I have work to do.”

 
She turned and strode away from him. Once she
told Bjorn about Gunnar’s threat toward Ketil, he’d
know what to do.

 
“One last thing, Rika.” Gunnar’s voice curled
around her ear and she froze. “A word of this conver
sation to Bjorn could seriously harm the health of your
brother. I will see Ketil sent to the Grove, I swear it.
And as for
my
brother—”

 
She whirled back to face him.

 
“
Bjorn has shown himself to be accident-prone of
late. Should you feel the need to prattle to him about
this, I fear another bit of bad luck might come his way.
In fact, I’m sure of it. An accident is easily arranged
for a price and I’m a very wealthy man. He’d not be likely to recover next time.”

 
Gunnar walked toward her as he spoke, not stop
ping till he was nose to nose with her. Rika resisted the
urge to step back.

 
“
Not a word,” he hissed. “Not ever. I have ears and
eyes all over Sogna, so don’t think for one moment you could deceive me. Do you understand?”

 
She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak, as Gunnar shouldered past her into the longhouse.

 
Bjorn bristled with nervous energy. He laid his plans
with the same care he’d devote to besieging a city.
Everything was in place for his assault on Rika's heart.

 
He hadn’t been this excited since the day he took the
Sea-Snake
out for her first cruise. That was a water
shed in his life. He was finally a man, in command of
his own vessel, his own crew, and his own life.

 
Tonight would be another marker of sorts. The
night he willingly surrendered his life to a woman.

 
Back in Hordaland, he’d been intrigued by her face
and form and amused by her plucky courage in a tight
spot. He thought she’d be a good diversion for a few weeks. He hadn’t expected to need her so. He hadn’t counted on falling in love with the soul and the wit,
the woman behind those captivating green eyes.

 
As the drinking and eating wound down after
nattmal,
the men started chanting for Rika to begin her
saga for the night. After dusty hours of hard work, it
was the high point of their day, as much anticipated as a draught of sweet mead or a rich haunch of venison.

 
When she started to stand, Bjorn stopped her with a
hand on her arm. He rose to his feet instead and raised
his palms to silence the rowdy crowd.

 
“I don’t have Rika Magnusdottir’s gift for words, but
I wish to speak,” he said, his deep voice filling the hall easily. “She has been my thrall for the short space of a
season now and never was a master less deserving.”

 
A couple of the men shouted their ribald agreement
and Bjorn smiled good-naturedly. In the far corner of
the room, Torvald leaned back and steepled his long-
fingered hands before him. He nodded in approval, as if sensing what was coming.

 
“
I captured her in the raid of Hordaland, and in the
time since then, she has captured me.” He smiled
down at her, his dark eyes soft and inviting.

 
Rika’s jaw sagged. What was Bjorn doing? At the edge of her vision, she saw Gunnar, his cruel face
alight with triumph. She had the sinking feeling that
she was caught, like the unsuspecting fly that stumbles into a soft web and doesn’t realize its danger till it feels
the weight of the spider approaching. Without her
conscious volition, one of her hands went to the metal
ring at her throat, and trembled.

 
“
That is why I am setting her free tonight,” Bjorn
shouted and motioned for the smith to come forward
with his tools. A cheer roared up from the men in the hall.

 
“Bjorn, no,” she pleaded, but he didn’t seem to hear her over the din.

 
The ironworker directed her to lay her head on the
table while he placed his chisel at the nut holding her collar fast. The resounding strike rang in her ears, fol
lowed by another round of cheers. The weight of iron lifted from her neck, leaving her feeling naked, and so light she feared she might float away. Her vision wa
vered uncertainly, and she forced herself to take a deep
breath.

 
Bjorn caught both her hands and raised her to her
feet. “Rika Magnusdottir, I give you back yourself.” He
grazed her cheek with his knuckle, wiping away the
tear that trailed down it. Bjorn raised one of her hands
and kissed it.

 
“And if you will have me, I give you myself, too.” He tugged her close. “Marry me, Rika.”

 
“Oh, Bjorn.” Rika inhaled raggedly, but there was
no air in the smoky hall. She’d given her word to Gun
nar, thinking it a debt she would never be called upon to repay. That calculating toad! He must have known
Bjorn’s plans when he accosted her that afternoon. And now she was caught, with no way to answer Bjorn’s question.

 
An expectant silence hushed the hall. To a man, they
leaned forward expecting to hear her happy accep
tance of this surprisingly well-spoken proposal. Her
throat constricted and no words came to her lips.

When she tore her hands away from Bjorn and bolted from him into the star-crusted night, the stunned silence gave way to murmurs of disbelief. Bjorn was quick to follow her.

 
“Rika, what’s wrong?”

 
“Go away, Bjorn. I can't look at you,” she rasped, tears stinging her eyes. “Not now.”

 
He caught up with her and wrapped his arms
around her. She struggled for only a moment and then
leaned back into his embrace, savoring it, knowing it
would be the last.

 
“Is this still about Magnus? You know how sorry I am about
your father,” he whispered urgently into her ear. She
trembled in his arms. “I will spend my life trying to
make it up to you.”

 
“No, Bjorn, it’s not that.” His heart thumped against her spine. Her own threatened to leap out of her chest. She couldn’t tell him the truth. Ketil would die a terrifying death and Gunnar had all but promised to murder Bjorn as well if she breathed a word.

 
Bjorn whipped her around and forced her to face
him, cupping her cheeks in his big hands. “You just
won’t have me?”

 
“I
can’t
have you, Bjorn,” she said.

 
“
What foolishness is this?” He lost patience with
words and covered her mouth with his. She gave her
self up to his kiss, surrendering her lips to his.

 
Then with a moan, she pulled herself away from
him. “I cannot marry you. I am pledged to another. I
gave my word.”

 
“That’s right,” Gunnar interrupted. He stepped from the shadows, the stark moonlight dividing his face into dark and light planes. “Congratulate the
skald of Sogna,
little
brother. She is to be the wife of
Farouk-Azziz, our worthy trading partner in Miklagard.
A match that benefits us all.”

 
“You mean that benefits you.” Bjorn turned to face
Gunnar, his shoulders set. “You arranged this whole
thing.”

 
“Indeed, I did,” he said. “Rika and I had a nice little
chat after you told me you intended to free her and she
agreed to the match, didn’t you, my dear?”

 
“
She couldn’t agree to anything this afternoon,”
Bjorn argued. “She wasn’t free and you can’t hold her
to anything she might’ve said.”

 
“Oh, but I do.” Gunnar directed his icy gaze at Rika. “
I
still
hold to our arrangement. All of it.”

 
“Then defend yourself, brother,” Bjorn said through
a clenched jaw. His sword slid from its scabbard with a
metallic ring. “Because I am going to kill you.”

 
Rika gasped. Magnus had always taught her that
there was no more obscene battle than one between
brothers. The fact that she was the cause of the rift added to her horror.

 
“
I’ll be happy to meet your challenge.” Gunnar lifted
a haughty brow at Bjorn, but didn’t move a finger to
grasp his sword
hilt.
“However, before you become an
oath-breaker and doom yourself to banishment on earth and
Niflheim
in the next world, perhaps you
should be sure she’s worth your trouble. First ask the
lady now that she’s no longer your thrall if she wants
to keep her pledge of her own free will.”

 
Bjorn hesitated. When he drew his sword,
he fully expected to fight his brother. The tension
in his limbs proclaimed a deadly intent. Now his oath
made him stop, as it should. Oath-breaking was as bad
as killing a man by stealth instead of open challenge. A
man who would go back on his word was worthless.
When Bjorn seemed to weigh the risk and still raised
his sword in defiance. Rika gaped in surprise.

 
“
You will not force her to web the Arab,” Bjorn said evenly.

 
“
No, indeed I will not. We’ll let the skald decide for
herself.” Gunnar turned to Rika. “It’s up to you. Of
your own free will, do you wish to marry Farouk-Azziz?
I will abide by your decision and know what to do in
any case.” The surety of Ketil’s death if her answer dis
pleased him burned in Gunnar’s pale eyes. And if she
told Bjorn of the threat, Gunnar would arrange for his
own brother to have ‘an accident’ as well.

 
Bjorn’s taut muscles relaxed as he turned to look at
her. He’d been prepared to dishonor his oath for her, and she didn’t doubt he’d fight his brother. Perhaps
he’d even kill Gunnar. Her heart surged with hope, then plummeted. Bjorn would be an oath-breaker, an outcast, perhaps put to death by the Lawspeaker for
his breach of fealty. Or perhaps he’d die before her very eyes this night, struck down by his brother’s blade.

 
Rika couldn’t speak. She looked at Bjorn, his face earnest and intent, his heart shining in his dark eyes, so hopeful. This was the man she could have loved all her life.

 
“Rika?” Bjorn’s puzzled frown told her he couldn’t understand her delay.

 
Her father was gone and her sweet, simple brother
was all she had left. Ketil depended on her. She
couldn’t purchase her happiness at the cost of his life. She couldn’t allow the man she loved to choose dis
honor. She straightened to her full height and schooled
her face into impassivity. A wall rose up behind her
eyes, shutting off her heart from Bjorn’s reach.