Maidensong (45 page)
And suddenly, the nicks in the sharp edges caught
and held fast like a pair of stags whose antlers were
locked. Gunnar’s eyes flew wide with surprise. Bjorn
jerked back and wrenched the sword from his
brother’s grasp. The blades were still frozen at right
angles, but both of the pommels were in Bjorn’s hands.
Rika gasped. In all her life, she’d never seen anyone
disarm his opponent in the
holmhring.
Gunnar stood like a statue, stunned, with his shield
arm hanging at his side. Bjorn didn’t bat an eye.
“The next blow belongs to the
Jarl
of Sogna,” Domari said.
“Canute, a sword,” Gunnar yelled to his second.
The big blond Viking spat on the ground. “A man in
a
holmhring
is allowed three shields, but only one
sword.”
“Why, brother?” Bjorn’s voice was a whisper. “It
would all have come to you eventually. Why did you
have to kill our father?”
“Harald could have lived another twenty winters. Why should I wait for what’s mine?” Gunnar’s eyes
went icy and he screamed at his brother in a
berserkr
rage. Then he slammed his remaining shield into
Bjorn, who impaled it on the tip of one of the swords.
“Winner takes all, as you say,” Bjorn said coolly, as
he stepped toward Gunnar. “I’ll settle for your life.”
The
jarl
staggered back.
“He gives ground!”
There was no mercy in Bjorn’s dark eyes. Gunnar stumbled backward again, trying to escape the arc of
death the locked swords would unleash.
“He flees!” The crowd shouted when both of Gun
nar’s feet left the prescribed fighting area.
The words seemed to stiffen Gunnar’s drooping spine and he stood straighter and stepped back onto
the pegged cloak. A faint whiff of urine, the smell of fear,
swirled around him, but he stood to face Bjorn.
Bjorn swung the swords to one side, preparing to
bring a final slashing stroke across his brother’s unpro
tected middle. But he stopped, frozen, his chest heav
ing as if at war with an unseen foe.
“No,” he said, driving the points of the blades into
the ground instead. A confused murmur rustled through the crowd.
“I have taken the sign of the Christ. I cannot kill an unarmed
man in cold blood, not even one who deserves it. But
Lawspeaker Domari, the outcome of this combat is
clear. My brother is guilty of murdering our father.”
Bjorn turned and walked to the edge of the
holmhring. “
I leave his fate in your hands.”
“Bind him,” Domari ordered and several men seized
Gunnar. The Lawspeaker turned back to Bjorn. “You
may think your act of mercy not so kind after all,
Christian.” Domari’s lip curled with undisguised loathing. As keeper of the Law, he was opposed to the new religion encroaching on the North.
“Gunnar Haraldsson, you are found guilty of the crime of patricide,” the Lawspeaker intoned. “The
penalty is well known. You will meet your death on the
wings of the blood-eagle.”
All the color drained from Gunnar’s face. His living
lungs would be ripped out through his ribs while he
gasped for air. It was terror enough to melt the bowels of a braver man than he.
“Damn you, little brother,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Finish me.”
“Once more will I ask the Lawspeaker to hear me,” Bjorn said. “I am no longer Odin’s man, but my
brother follows the Old Ways. On this holy night, let
him offer himself to Odin in the grove both to honor
his gods and to pay for his crime. Let Gunnar Haralds
son be the sacrifice from Sogna.”
The Lawspeaker narrowed his eyes at Bjorn, seem
ing to consider his words. Odin’s victims were usually thralls. A nobleman going willing to the grove would increase the prestige of the temple and please the priests out of all knowing.
“So mote it be!” Domari’s voice rolled over the
crowd as Gunnar was led away to replace Ketil. “In ac
cordance with the law of the
holmhring,
Bjorn the Black is heir to all that was Gunnar Haraldsson’s.
From this moment, you are
Jarl
of Sogna.”
A cheer went up around Bjorn. Gunnar had made
many enemies. Only Astryd shrieked her rage and bolted
from the ring, away from the direction in which her husband was
being dragged.
“Now to the matter of oath-breaking,” the Law
speaker said, his voice solemn as befitted the serious
ness of the offense. “A man’s word is sacred, not to be lightly given, and not to be gainsaid once it is spoken.
Oath-breaking is a crime I am loath to tolerate. Accord
ing to the Law, Bjorn the Black, you should be banished
from the North for three years. But your brother broke
faith with your father and with you and with all the peo
ple of Sogna. Your offense is mitigated by his crime.
Therefore, I command that instead of banishment, you
will confine yourself to Sognefjord for three years. Lead your people well and if you raid beyond your realm dur
ing that time, you will answer to me.”
Rika ran to Bjorn and threw her arms around him,
relieved by the Lawgiver’s unexpected mercy and com
forted by the steady thump of her husband’s heart.
“Jorand, you’ll help me rule Sogna, won’t you?” Bjorn asked.
“I thought I already made it clear tonight,” the young
man said. “I’m not your sworn man. I’m only your friend. You can’t order
me about, even if you are a
jarl
. I think I’m for a voy
age, a three-year-long one perhaps. And what will you
do with yourself for the time of your confinement?”
Bjorn looked down at Rika. “I’ve a mind to build a
keep with a high tower for this saucy wench.”
“A fastness on a wind-swept crag overlooking the sea?” Rika asked.
“Just so.”
“Ah! So once your three-year sentence is up, when you go viking, I can watch for your ship in the fjord?”
“You know my mind well, wife.”
“Then you know nothing of mine if you think to
leave me, Bjorn the Black,” she said. “I’ve had enough parting from you to last a lifetime. Unless you want to
meet Ragnar’s end, you’d better stay home and tend the fields.”
Bjorn swept her into a tight embrace. “How about if I
stay home and tend my wife?”
She kissed him deeply. “Even better.”
The End
Mia Marlowe’s books can be found in some interesting places. Her work has been featured in PEOPLE magazine and one of her books is on display at the Museum of London Docklands next to Johnny Depp and Errol Flynn memorabilia. Her sensual historical romances have been translated into 7 languages. Her recent TOUCH OF A ROGUE made Publishers Weekly prestigious Top Ten Romances for Spring 2012!
She writes for Kensington and Sourcebooks as well as for her fans who love ebooks.
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Watch for ErinSong (Jorand’s story) coming soon!
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