Page 23

I t was dusk when the small group cantered into Gunnarsholm.

As they neared the largest longhouse which was his own home the grumpy, grizzling cries of a hungry baby reached their ears.

Gunnar turned his mount toward the house and halted before the door.

He took Mairead's arm and lowered her to the ground.

"Go," he commanded. "She wants you. I will see to the horse and I shall be in soon."

He watched as she scampered across the hard-packed earth to disappear inside his home and wondered what he must do to ensure she remained there. Nothing, perhaps. She was his property after all, where else might she be? He found that conclusion strangely unsatisfactory.

Weylin followed him into the stable. "Do you require help with your horse, Jarl? I can see to him. There is food prepared... you must be hungry."

Gunnar turned from unbuckling the saddle to regard the man behind him. He was hungry, but that was not the matter uppermost in his thoughts. "No, I will do it. I would be obliged, though, if you would bring me the items stolen by the boy. I trust you still have them."

"Of course, Jarl." The man bowed his head and withdrew.

A few minutes later Gunnar entered his longhouse, the stolen items in a small bag.

Aigneis crouched beside the fire, stirring the cauldron which always hung there but otherwise the central hall was empty.

He set the haul on the table and seated himself.

At once Aigneis placed a dish of steaming broth before him.

"Thank you." He managed a smile for her. She was a good and willing servant. "Where is Mairead?"

"In your sleeping chamber, Jarl, tending to the little one. The boy is with her."

He nodded and reached for the hunk of bread she now offered him.

"Jarl, about the lad..."

The kindly face was etched with concern – yet another female slave who feared his brutal justice. Was he truly such a monster?

"Not now, Aigneis." He was at once weary, and acutely conscious of the fact that he had spent the past month pursuing robbers, sleeping under the stars, living off the land, then chasing down runaway thralls.

He wanted his food and his bed, but there was a matter he must address this night if any of them were to have the peace they needed. "I will eat first, then deal with him."

Aigneis nodded and returned to her pot.

He could have returned to Gunnarsholm sooner, he knew that and so did his men.

The pursuit of the robbers had been relatively swift, and it had taken him a little over a sennight to regain his stolen sheep.

He could have driven the flock straight back, but instead opted to rest them and allow the animals to benefit from a few days of good grazing on the inland pastures.

When he finally did tell his men to prepare for the journey home, their pace had been leisurely.

He had offered the excuse that he wished to spare the horses, but this was not really the true reason.

The truth was, he had been avoiding his latest female thrall.

If he had to look upon her, share a bed with her, he was not convinced he would be able to stop himself from having her.

He would need to fuck her, to bury his cock within her and pound her until she screamed his name.

He had but to observe Mairead, only to cast an eye over the gentle sway of her hips, the bright sheen of her hair, the mossy green of her eyes, and his cock swelled.

He was permanently hard in her presence and out of it, and it was her fault.

He groaned and promised himself the ordeal would soon be over.

It had now been a month since the birth of her baby and she seemed well enough.

She had been responsive when he took her to the hot spring, had enjoyed his touch and been relaxed in his company once the whipping was out of the way.

He knew many men would not have waited even as long as he had, but despite his desire for Mairead, Gunnar had no appetite for forced lovemaking.

His slave would accept him, when she was ready.

He might press her, and he would without doubt do what he could to entice and seduce her, but ultimately, he would wait.

The broth was good. He accepted a second bowl and more bread, followed by apples stewed in honey, and all washed down with a mug of fine mead.

Replete, he could put off his final task no longer, though he remained uncertain just how he intended to resolve the matter.

Perhaps it would be clearer when he had heard the lad's side of it.

He rose from the table and approached the curtain which screened off his private chamber.

He paused to listen to the soft voices from within, Mairead's gentle tone and Donald's slightly higher one.

She was telling her son a tale, recounting some legend from their Celtic folklore.

Gunnar listened for a few moments to the story of a selkie stranded on a beach, lamenting his lost home in the deep.

He presumed this to be a sea creature since the being had emerged from the waves to become trapped when the tide turned.

The boy seemed dissatisfied with his mother's account of events, demanding to know why the selkie did not simply magic himself back into the water because surely he possessed such powers.

Selkies could do anything they chose, just like Vikings.

Ah. He gritted his teeth and pulled the curtain back.

"Donald, come with me." The words were softly spoken, but a command.

At once the boy scrambled from the bed where he had been sitting with his mother and baby sister. Mairead made to follow him.

"No, you stay here. Just the boy."

"But—"

"Stay here. Please." He added the final word as an afterthought, his attempt at reassurance.

She appeared to understand because she settled back against the furs, though her eyes never left the small figure of her boy as he followed Gunnar from the room.

The Viking paused to drop the curtain again, then led the way back to the table where the stolen items still waited, concealed within the small sack.

Gunnar dismissed Aigneis with a gesture. He wanted to speak with Donald alone. When the servant bustled out of the hall on some errand that took her to another of the cottages, he sat down and beckoned the boy to come closer and stand before him.

Donald chewed on his lip, a nervous gesture Gunnar had seen before, on Mairead's pretty face. He supposed the lad had reason to be anxious, though he did not seem unduly frightened. Gunnar was pleased, he took no pleasure in scaring children, nor helpless women for that matter.

Gunnar reached for the sack and tipped the contents out onto the table. "You know what these items are?"

Donald nodded.

"Tell me about them."

"I... I..."

"Did you steal them, Donald?"

The boy nodded now, his eyes glistening a little despite his best efforts not to cry.

"Can you tell me what it is to steal?"

"It is when you take things which belong to another."

"Thank you. And is it wrong to steal?"

"I... I think so. I am not sure."

"Weylin tells me these items were concealed within your bed. If you are not sure that it is wrong to steal, why did you hide them?"

"I... I thought everyone would be angry. And that they would take my things back."

"Your things? They are not yours. They belong to those you stole them from." Gunnar selected the amulet from among the pile. "I recognise this. It belongs to me."

The lad shifted from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. His features hardened, as though he now considered himself to be the victim of some dire injustice. His mouth worked, and Gunnar knew there was something the boy was bursting to say but he feared retribution.

"Donald, tell me what you are thinking. I will listen, I promise you."

He shook his tawny head. "I cannot."

"You can. Tell me, because I want to understand why you took these things, why you stole my property."

There was a long pause, during which Donald screwed up his small face and stared at the floor before him. Suddenly he lifted his gaze to meet Gunnar’s eyes and blurted it out, "Because you stole it first. You stole it, and it became yours. I took it, so now it is mine."

"I stole it? No, I didn't?—"

"You did. I saw this before, or one like it, in the manor house at Pennglas. You stole it from someone when you raided their village. You must have."

Had he? Gunnar thought back, tried to recall when and where he had acquired the amulet and had to acknowledge that the lad was probably right.

Not Pennglas. The only time he ever went there the Viking attackers had taken only slaves, but he had likely seized the piece on some other raid.

It was a Celtic design so the boy might well have seen similar items in his homeland.

"So, you believe it is permitted to steal, because that is what Vikings do?"

"No, not really."

Gunnar took a long, deep breath and tried to make sense of what he was hearing. There was some logic to the lad's account, and Gunnar could start to grasp the dilemma here but he felt it was more complex still.

"Why do you say that? Why is stealing not permitted?" He deliberately gentled his voice, sensing that he was close.

"Because people get hurt. They lose things they love, or are killed trying to defend them. It is wrong, but it happens and those who steal are strong. They are safe because they have wealth."

"Wealth that they stole from others?"

"Perhaps. Yes, sometimes. It does not matter where they got their riches from."

"You wanted to be wealthy? Is that why you took these things?"

The boy flattened his lips and nodded. "If we have money, enough to buy food, my mother will not need to be married. I do not want her to marry again."

Gunnar could envision no circumstances whatsoever in which he would permit Mairead to take another husband but he did not say that. Instead he picked up on the boy's last remark. "Why do you not want that?"