Page 2 of Lord of Fire and Ice

She lifted her lamp and glared down at him. Her eyes slanted up at the corners, catlike. The light was too dim to determine their color as they swept over him in a quick, unflinching assessment.

“What do I want with this, Finn?”

“Consider him a peace offering, sister,” Finn said. “It was wrong of us to try to force you into a match. But if you won’t accept a husband, you need a strong thrall to do the heavy work for you.”

“I keep an ox for the heavy work.” Katla flicked a glance at Brandr’s genitals.

“Want us to geld him for you?” Finn offered as he pulled out his belt knife. “Should make him more biddable.”

Brandr swallowed hard against the gag. Trussed up as he was, he’d be hard pressed to fight off a gelding blade. He glared at the woman, sending her a silent threat. The flame of the oil lamp flared higher. Better she should have them kill him outright than unman him.

“No, don’t,” she said after a moment’s consideration. “It would only make him eat more.” Then she waved a dismissive hand. “No, no, he’s not staying and neither are the rest of you. Take him away.”

“All right, you heard her, brothers,” Finn told the others, who started to heft Brandr up again. “We’ll sell him to the next bunch of traders who comes by from Birka then. Katla doesn’t want the son of Ulf, after all.”

“What?” She stopped Finn with a hand to his forearm.

“You heard me aright,” Finn said with a satisfied grin. “This is Brandr Ulfson, back home from the South.”

“Stay,” she ordered. “I will have him.”

A warning bell jangled in Brandr’s brain. Most people never had a thrall offered to them freely. If they did, they’d never turn one down, especially one as obviously strong and healthy as he. But this woman hadn’t wanted him until she heard his name. Her expression showed a mix of curiosity, grim satisfaction, and…fierce joy.

“If I give him to you,” Finn said, clearly enjoying the upper hand with his sister, a situation Brandr suspected was as rare as a mild winter, “you must promise to take a husband. There wasn’t a thing wrong with any of your last five suitors, and you know it.”

“None of them was my choice.”

“They would have brought wealth and cattle and lands to our family,” Finn said. “You’re too young not to marry again. You owe it to us, Katla, and you know it. You’ve got a tidy holding here, more than most widows receive from their husbands.”

Brander realized Katla was responsible for this farmstead and all the souls sheltering in her longhouse. No wonder she was so surly. She was a woman alone with the weight of a man’s responsibilities on her shoulders. She’d have to be tougher than a man too, in order to earn the same respect. And it didn’t appear her brothers were helping her overmuch, except in schemes to line their own pockets. A comely widow like Katla with a prosperous farmstead could mean a windfall to the men in her family.

“But what about us?” Finn went on. “Would you deny your brothers the right to your bride-price? Say you’ll accept the man of my choosing, and I’ll give you the son of Ulf.”

She frowned and worried her lower lip, weighing her options. “I suppose you’ll never leave my hearth and make your own way if I don’t marry again.” She sighed. “Very well. Choose three men, and I’ll pick one as a husband. But I won’t tolerate a fool.”

“Done!” Finn signaled for his brothers to drop Brandr.

He went down hard on the slate again with no way to protect himself. Fortunately, the opiate they’d given him also seemed to dull pain.

“I’ll send the first man to you on the morrow,” Finn promised.

“There’s no rush,” she said acerbically. “You get only three chances. Make them count.”

Katla’s brothers filed out, and she barred the door behind them. Then she walked around Brandr a couple times, giving him a more thorough examination. He followed her with his eyes, noticing that when she passed between him and the lamp, her night shift was thin enough for him to see the shadowy shape of her legs.

When she glanced at his genitals again, he couldn’t help his body’s response, swelling to his full state.

“Hmpf!”

It was not the reaction he was accustomed to.

Then she picked up a skinning knife from the top of a trunk in the corner. Had the bloodthirsty wench turned down her brother’s offer to geld him so she could do it herself?

His erection softened.

“Get your eyes back in your head,” she ordered. “You look like a demented owl.”

She bent down and cut the leather strap that gagged him near the knot behind his ear. “I’m not going to maim you. Not unless you do something to irritate me.”