She didn’t try to answer him until he was beside her. “Lotti is very hungry. Is there something for her to eat?”
Magnus had expected to hear something else from her, a plea for herself, perhaps. He should have realized, given her frenzy the day before, that her only concern would be for her little sister, for after all, she had risked her life to save the child. Wasn’t she hungry as well, damn her? Wasn’t there something for herself she wanted? Finally he said, “Get you back into the hold. I will have Horkel bring both of you something to eat.”
Zarabeth nodded and turned, only to feel Magnus’ hand on her arm.
“Do not come out again. Even though you look like a witch, my men at all times are woman-hungry, particularly away from their homes. If you value your woman’s endowments, you will remain within.” He paused a moment, then added, a frown on his face, “I will tie back the pelts so that there will be fresh air within the hold, and light.”
Zarabeth nodded again. Before she withdrew, she looked out onto the sea. The wind whipped her hair about her face, and she tasted the salty seawater on her tongue. It was becoming cooler, and she wrapped her arms about herself. Water slapped loudly against the sides of the vessel. She could make out the distant coastline. The men were still silent, watching, looking at her. Were they judging her? Did they believe her a murderess?
Not that it mattered. She went back into the cargo hold. Before too much time had passed, Magnus himself came into the hold. Not Horkel. He was carrying two wooden bowls filled with warm stew. He also had bread, soft and fresh, wrapped in a coarse woolen rag.
“Do not expect food like this for very long. It will take us five days to reach Hedeby, ’tis a large trading town in Denmark. I have some trading to do there before we sail north to Kaupang, up the Oslo Fjord.”
He was being kind, Zarabeth thought, somewhat confused. Was he coming to think that perhaps she had been telling the truth? Was he coming to believe that she hadn’t lied about why she’d told him she hadn’t wanted him? His next words blighted her, leaving her feeling hopeless once more.
“You will cast no lures toward any of my men. They would take what you offered them, but they would give you nothing in return save their contempt. I have their loyalty. You are naught but a slave, a female slave, who has her uses, as I will use you this night. You want bathing, but no matter. Make yourself ready for me, Zarabeth, for I will come back when night has fallen and most of my men are asleep.” Unfortunately, as the words left his mouth, Magnus realized that Lotti was staring up at him, her wooden spoon held in her hand. He’d forgotten the child. He felt a fool; worse, he felt like a man who had gone into battle without a weapon. He felt like a naked man caught in a snowdrift. He gave Zarabeth a look that bespoke retribution, turned on his heel, and left the hold.
Zarabeth would have laughed had she been able to, but she wasn’t. She turned and mimed eating to Lotti. She was no longer hungry. The fresh sea wind came into the hold and she no longer felt ill from the stuffiness of the small space.
Time passes, Zarabeth thought, even though I lose track of the minutes and the hours, time still passes. And so it was. The night became another day that was hot and bright, the sun so harsh she wondered how the men could bear the hours under its searing heat. She played with Lotti, teaching her words, repeating them endlessly, speaking to her as she mimed ideas.
And she thought of Magnus, even when he wasn’t in her line of vision. TheSea Windwas a good sixty feet long, and at her center she was at least fifteen feet wide. The men had stacked their oars in the high wooden Y-shaped holders and were lolling about, nothing for them to do. She heard them speaking, and they spoke freely, for perhaps they didn’t care that she could hear them:
“I heard Tostig say that what Magnus would have paid for her in a brideprice, he paid instead in danegeld to the son in payment for the man she poisoned.”
“Aye, she killed the old man because she wanted his wealth. A woman is a fool, she has no cunning. I could have succeeded—”
“Aye, but the old man wouldn’t have wedded with you in the first place! You are ugly as a rutting boar and you have not what any man would want between your legs!”
There was laughter to that; then a man said, “She’s pretty, aye, I’ll give you that, but stupid she is, drawing Magnus in and then spitting on him. Why would she betray him? She’ll pay, though, you’ll see.”
“Aye, when she sees Cyra... by Thor, that girl would make any man hard as a stone. She’ll regret that she did.”
“Forget not Ingunn, a hard taskmistress, that one, whose tongue feeds on contention, despite her angel’s face. Life won’t be pleasant for the slave.”
And on and on it went, and Zarabeth wondered who Ingunn was. As for Cyra, Zarabeth remembered her well. She was also a slave, and she bedded with Magnus. That wouldn’t touch her, Zarabeth thought. She didn’t care what women crept into his bed, just as long as it wasn’t her. She wouldn’t be his slut.
When she turned to listen again, the men were wagering on when Magnus would bed her. She remembered being kissed by him, held against his chest, feeling his strength, his gentleness flowing into her. It was over now.
Time passed. She emerged only once daily from the cargo hold to empty the slops.
Two days out of Hedeby, Zarabeth awoke suddenly with the knowledge that something was very wrong. She jerked upright, shaking her head to clear away the sleep. Lotti was missing. She felt fear pound through her, and dashed to the entry of the cargo hold. She could only stare. Lotti was sitting on one of the men’s bare thighs, a small monkey of a man with a thick black beard, whose name was Tostig. He was laughing and pointing out different seabirds to her. A seal played near the vessel, and Lotti was laughing, in her own way, and gesticulating wildly, and the other men had crowded around them. She was safe. Her bright ginger hair was blowing wildly around her face. Zarabeth stared in astonishment as one of the men came down on his haunches and began to braid her hair, so gentle his touch that Lotti scarce noticed. Another man produced a bit of leather to tie the braid. Lotti held out her hand to the man, and he laughed and patted her cheek and then his legs, and the man Tostig handed the little girl over to him.
It was unaccountable. Zarabeth couldn’t take it in, this gentleness and kindness to a child. But so it was. She saw that Magnus was still down at the steering oar, lolling at his ease next to the helmsman. She turned back into the hold and sat down, leaning against a wool-wrapped box filled with soapstone bowls and pitchers and plates, bound, she supposed, for the trading market at Hedeby. She closed her eyes, wishing she could forget where she was and why she was here.
He came in so suddenly that she didn’t have time to cry out, much less voice a protest. He filled the entry, the bright sun behind him, then pulled the pelts back down, and the small area was dim again.
“Lotti is fine and well-occupied with my men. I’m tired of waiting. I’ve come to take you, Zarabeth.”
She didn’t move, merely stared at him, disbelieving. “Why?”
He laughed. “I told you, I’m tired of waiting. You’re my slave. If I want you, I’ll take you whenever it pleases me.”
She saw that he meant it. She scrambled back against the side of the vessel. “Please, no. It isn’t right, it isn’t—”
“It’s what I want! I’ve paid dearly for you, Zarabeth!”
She was shaking her head wildly. “No, Magnus. I won’t be your whore.”
