Page 16

Gunnar nodded and gestured Donald to the door. "He can go. Make sure he knows he is not to leave the village in any circumstances."

Aigneis conveyed that stipulation and the lad nodded with enthusiasm as he dashed for the exit. The three adults left within the longhouse regarded one another warily as the boy's running footsteps receded.

This is my fucking house. Gunnar repeated that truth to himself as he took his seat at the table opposite Mairead and refused to back down under her accusing stare. He turned to Aigneis.

"I shall be requiring food and fresh clothing. We leave within the hour."

"So soon, Jarl. You have but this moment walked in the house..."

"We need to be after the robbers, while there are still tracks to follow. I intend to retrieve our livestock, and teach those brigands the folly of attacking us here."

Aigneis set a bowl of broth before him, and a hunk of bread at his right hand. "I understand, Jarl, but?—"

"You will take Mairead and Donald to Sindri at the forge, and bid him remove their shackles."

"Yes, Jarl." She did not question his command, and he did not expect her to. Indeed, it would have been strange if she had since none of Gunnar's thralls bore the shackles favoured by his brother.

"Mairead is to sleep in my bed, the baby with her. The boy shall be found a space elsewhere in the longhouse. Somewhere warm though."

"Of course. There is room close to Weylin and I. She is to be your bed-slave, then? The Celtic woman?"

Gunnar fixed his servant with a glower. It was not her place to question him in this manner, though she and all others would draw the inevitable conclusion when it became known the red-haired female shared his bed.

Or would share it, as soon as he found himself at leisure long enough to stretch out on his own mattress again.

Gunnar glared at Aigneis, then at Mairead who regarded him with undisguised apprehension as she sought to hush the fretting baby.

No doubt she had recognised her own name on his lips and feared what that might mean.

"The child is hungry," observed Gunnar.

Aigneis translated his words and Mairead gave a short nod. She proceeded to enclose the squirming, complaining infant within her loose clothing, and soon all was silent but for the soft sounds of suckling. Would that all issues might be so readily solved.

Gunnar ate his meal without further conversation.

Aigneis bustled about the longhouse gathering supplies for his coming journey, as well as the fresh clothing he required.

By the time he pushed the bowl away, all was in readiness.

Throughout, Mairead had uttered not a word.

No questions, no comments, not so much as a hint of censure at what she had seen.

Words were not necessary, her expressive features spoke for her.

She feared him, and she loathed him.

Gunnar rose to his feet and strode to the door. He addressed his final words to Aigneis. "We shall be gone at least a sennight, maybe longer. I shall send word when we are on our way back."

He encountered Weylin in the doorway and quickly apprised him of his intentions.

The man offered no comment, just assisted Aigneis in carrying the supplies out to Gunnar's waiting stallion.

Gunnar had called for a fresh horse, and already several of his men were leaping into their newly saddled mounts.

It required but a few minutes for him to instruct them as to their new mission, and issue the signal that they were off.

The party formed up behind their chief and they cantered from the village. Gunnar did not look back.

"So, he has taken ye as a fuck-slave then."

Aigneis offered the bald, crude statement as she showed Mairead around the longhouse.

The servant had already answered Mairead's questions regarding their master's hasty departure and offered her a tour of the homestead.

The female thrall explained where various foodstuffs were stored, shown Mairead the boxes where blankets were kept dry and free from vermin, and the smaller chest which housed the few medicinal supplies they possessed.

Mairead was particularly interested in this since her own bags of herbs and healing potions had been left behind, abandoned in her brother in law's house in Pennglas when she was taken.

She found the Vikings' range of remedies woefully lacking and was just compiling a mental list of plants to seek out, leaves and roots which she might collect and dry in preparation for future ailments among her new community, when Aigneis made her stunning comment.

"No! Of course not. Why would you think that?" She gaped at Aigneis, open-mouthed.

"He said it. Ye're tae sleep in his bed. That can mean but one thing."

"You are mistaken," insisted Mairead. Why, the very notion was ridiculous.

A man such as this dark Viking, this powerful, cruel Nordic chieftain who exuded masculine beauty and could have any female he chose, would not spare a second glance for one such as she.

She went on to explain. "I am not young.

I have borne two children, one of them just two days ago.

My body is... not one which he would find in the least attractive. "

"Ye will be sleeping in his bed." For Aigneis this was all the evidence required.

"Perhaps he offered it as his bed is the most comfortable. He has been most kind, most considerate since Tyra was born. And as he will not be here..."

"He will be back, in a week or two."

"Yes, and when he returns he will doubtless require me to move to another part of the longhouse."

Aigneis merely shook her head so Mairead opted to change the subject, raising the matter which had so shaken her.

"Earlier, when I went to the privy, I heard noises and went to investigate. There was a man, tied to a post and... and..."

"Ah, I wondered if ye saw that." Aigneis shrugged, her features hardening. "Ferris had it coming. The man is lazy, and a thief. All here know that."

"A thief? But..."

"It is the law. All must obey. Ferris knew what would happen if he stole from the village, from the Jarl. Gunnar had no choice but to deal with him severely."

"Will he... Will the man be all right?”

"In a few days, I daresay. Let us hope he has learnt his lesson." Dismissing the matter of the hapless thrall Aigneis dusted down her hands on the front of her woollen skirt. "Come, we must find your boy and go to the forge."

"The forge? Why?" Mairead closed the lid on the medicine chest she already thought of as hers.

"Those need to come off." Aigneis pointed to the heavy shackle which had bruised Mairead's slender ankle during the few days she had worn it. "The Jarl ordered it. No one here wears chains."

"They do not?" Mairead was surprised, especially given the whipping she had stumbled across. Gunnarsholm had not struck her as a settlement sympathetic to the plight of slaves.

"No need. We are too remote here, no one would be foolish enough to attempt to escape just to be devoured by wolves or murdered by cut-throats. The shackles serve no purpose and just get in the way of the work. 'Tis best they be gone. Come, while there is daylight still."

Aigneis led, and they rounded up Donald on the way.

He had been sitting on the ground with two other boys and the three of them played a game which involved tossing sticks into a circle etched in the dust. He was reluctant to leave his new friends, but Mairead insisted and the trio trooped across to the smith's forge.

Donald flinched as the smith clouted the metal pin out of the shackle on his ankle, but it was the work of moments and suddenly he was free.

Mairead allowed him to scamper back to his game and passed Tyra to Aigneis as she extended her own foot for similar treatment.

The vibrations rattled up her leg as the smith swung his mallet once, twice, and a third time before the pin flew from her shackle in a shower of sparks.

The smith stamped on the smouldering sawdust which covered the rough dirt floor, and once he was satisfied that there was no imminent danger of his forge going up in flames he offered the women a toothless grin and returned to his workbench.

"Come." Aigneis was already striding back towards Gunnar's longhouse, Tyra still in her arms. "You will no doubt we wanting a bath, then you can get some sleep.

Tomorrow we have much to do. You will help me with the washing, then we shall collect berries.

I want to check if the turnips we planted are ready to be harvested yet, and there is flour to grind. If we have time I would like to... "

Mairead followed in the woman's wake, her ears still ringing from the din of the forge.

Yes, a bath would be welcome, and she was more fatigued than she could recall in a long time.

Even if her Viking captor did demand his sleeping chamber back on his return, and he surely would, for now it was hers and she was ready for it.

The next few days passed peacefully enough.

Despite the dizzying list of tasks which she had reeled off, Aigneis insisted that Mairead rest and concentrate on caring for Tyra.

The Viking's bed assigned to her was large, comfortable and above all warm as the sleeping chamber was served by its own small fire.

Mairead usually curled up within the furs soon after dusk fell, and did not venture out until daylight poked through the gaps in the eaves above her head.

She assisted Aigneis in her work and found life at Gunnersholm not especially onerous.

There was always work to be done, but plenty of willing hands to share the labour.

Donald preferred to spend his days with the other boys who seemed to accept him readily enough within their midst. He enjoyed herding geese and milking goats but was particularly keen to assist in the stables.