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“You will assist no one but me, Laren.” He took a step toward her now and Laren quickly took a step back. He frowned. “What are you doing? I am lord here, and if I want to bed you I will bed you. You have no say in the matter. But still, I am a man of handsome parts and there is no reason why you wouldn’t want me to touch you and caress you.”
Ah, she thought, but the parts didn’t add up into a handsome whole. She said hesitantly, looking beyond his left shoulder, “I cannot, my lord. I am Merrik’s slave, his possession. I am his concubine. You must ask him if you wish to share me with him.”
That drew Erik up short. He frowned. “My brother said nothing about keeping you. You haven’t slept with him. By all the gods, he sleeps with your little brother, or alone. You lie, wench. He doesn’t want you. He even told me so. He said he took you only because you were the child’s sister.”
She felt a shaft of pain at his words, a pain so deep she thought she’d strangle with it, but she managed to say calmly enough, “It is my monthly flow. Merrik doesn’t like to touch me at those times.”
“I am surprised my brother would let such a simple thing deter him. As for me, I don’t care.” Erik took another step toward her.
She shook her head even as she eased to her left, toward the longhouse. To her unspeakable relief, one of Erik’s men, Sturla by name, a huge man with arms larger than her legs, bulging with muscle, came striding from the longhouse. He said, “The men are ready, Erik. The boar was seen just late yesterday and I know we can find it. I have promised Sarla she will have it to make us boar steaks this very night.”
She wanted to kiss the huge man, who could, if he wished, kill her with one blow from his immense hand.
Erik looked at her, saw the relief in her eyes, and cursed quietly. It was obvious he’d forgotten about the boar hunt. He said nothing, merely turned to Sturla. “Let us be off, then.” He said over his shoulder to her, “I will see to you this night. You will not gainsay me.”
Laren said not a word. She waited, unmoving, until Erik disappeared through the palisade gates with six of his men.
A woman said from behind her, “I heard Merrik warn you, yet you came out here alone. Do you not heed your master’s warnings?”
Laren said nothing, just continued staring after Erik and Sturla until all the men were gone from view.
The woman continued, “Erik will have you, despite your wishes, despite his brother’s wishes.”
Laren turned slowly to face a young woman with brilliant blue eyes and blond hair that looked filled with the morning sunlight. She was taller than most women, deep bosomed and well garbed. Laren said, “I had to relieve myself. That is not a thing done with others. Who are you?”
“I am Caylis. Erik has kept me for nine years now. His father bought me when I was only thirteen years old to assist his wife and to be a companion to their niece Sira. Erik wanted me and took me. My son is eight years old now. He is Kenna, a good boy, strong and proud. If Sarla has no children, then Erik will doubtless make him legitimate. I pray it will happen. I have borne him three other children, all girls, but they died.”
“But Erik is wedded to Sarla.”
“Aye, the poor little weak fool. Over two years now. ’Twas a marriage arranged by Erik’s father, Harald. She hasn’t the guile to hold him, to make him do what she wants him to do. She is timorous as a newly foaled calf.” She paused, looking Laren up and down. “Erik was careful whilst his parents still lived. He only visited my bed and the other women’s after his parents had departed to their sleeping chamber for the night. He knew they were fond of Sarla, so he did nothing untoward toward us whilst they were about. But now he has no reason to deny himself anything. He can do whatever he pleases, and for whatever reason, he wants you. I suppose it is because you are new, and like all men, Erik will seek to bend you to his will until he has bedded you and discovers that you are but like the rest of us, only not as pretty or as well made.”
Laren didn’t say anything, but as she lifted her skirt, she smiled at the woman. Caylis sucked in her breath. “Your leg—it’s horrible!”
“Aye, I burned myself. I will show your lord Erik. Perhaps that will cool his ardor.”
Caylis just shook her head. “So you are Merrik’s mistress, just as I heard you tell Erik. Merrik is a beautiful man, I have many times remarked on it. Is he a good lover or does he just want you to pleasure him and watch whilst his face flushes with his own passion? Does Merrik care what you feel?”
Laren stared at her. Caylis laughed. “So, you haven’t bedded with him. Resign yourself, then. It is Erik who will have your virginity. It isn’t bad, if he is in a pleasant mood. If he isn’t, you will know much pain. Sometimes he enjoys pain, sometimes not. You will learn soon enough what it is he will want from you.
“It is a pity that Merrik has no power here now. Erik will grant him none. If Erik wants you, he will have you. Do you really make an excellent porridge? Sarla doesn’t. Come, then, for I am quite hungry.”
That night, replete with the delicious boar steaks that Laren had helped Sarla to prepare, Erik called for the end of the tale of Grunlige the Dane.
Laren thought first of the silver coins, then of what would come after. She knew that Erik would come to her tonight. She simply didn’t know what to do about it. First, she would tell her story, then she would decide.
She rose and rubbed her hands together, saying nothing until all attention was on her. “ ‘I will tell you who and what I am,’ Grunlige said, his foot poised over Parma’s neck. ‘I am still myself and none other. I am not a shade from the nether regions. I am flesh and bone, but I have gone beyond a mere man’s flesh and bones to a higher realm. But mistake me not, Parma, I am still myself and Selina is still my beloved wife. You see my hands are still bandaged. That was for you to remark upon and feel superior about.’
“Grunlige slowly unwrapped the bandages from his hands. Parma could but stare. No longer were Grunlige’s hands shriveled like claws, fingernails twisted and blackened. No, his hands were whole and clean and strong, and the sword handle fit well into his palm.
“‘Your witch wife, she brought you back,’ Parma gasped, so frightened now, he felt his bladder loosen and knew great shame for his fear.
“ ‘Nay, ’twas Odin All-Father,’ Grunlige said matter-of-factly. ‘He deemed me worthy, deemed my people worthy, and thus restored me. You are a fool, Parma, do you not recognize where you are?’
“Parma gazed about him, but he recognized nothing. Then he saw Selina walking toward them, her white robe flowing, her shoulders proud, her walk confident.
“ ‘You have gone nowhere, Parma. You are still here where you attacked my wife. Odin but played with you, teased you, and you were a fool. Now, what have you to say for yourself?’
“Parma thought furiously, and knew he had but one chance to ke
