“It is time for Zarabeth’s punishment. Should you like to watch, Ingunn?”
“You will beat her?”
He shook his head. He was smiling, that strange calm smile. His eyes glittered in the dim midnight light.
“What will you do to her?”
“I will have Kol take her. Is that sufficient punishment?”
“Kol is ill from the blow she gave him.”
“Ah, then Bein.”
“He cannot. He raped the other slave. He is old and has not sufficient powers.”
“Then I am the only one left. She really must be punished. Go back to the camp, Ingunn. I will bring Zarabeth back when I am done with her.”
Magnus knew they were close, but not close enough. Already Orm and his party would be boarding his vessel. Perhaps they were pulling on the oars this very minute. Perhaps they were already sailing due south to Hedeby. He closed his eyes against the pain of losing her. So much loss. Too much. Where would Orm take her? Magnus knew he hadn’t protected her as he had pledged to when he made his vow to her.
“By Thor, I don’t believe it!”
Magnus turned at Eines’s shout.
“Come here, Magnus, look! They’re close, very close, not more than three hours ahead of us. Look at these tracks! Is the man a fool?”
“Aye,” Ragnar said. “A stupid fool. Does he not care that someone could be following him? Does he think you a coward? Has he lost all his wits?”
Magnus felt fierce purpose fill him.
Ragnar said quietly behind him, “Ingunn is with them.”
“Aye, I know. Our horses are blown. Let them rest, but no longer than an hour.”
They were all exhausted, their muscles cramped and stiff, but not one of them complained. They hunkered down and ate dried beef and hard flat bread.
“What will you do with Ingunn?” Ragnar asked as he chewed the tough beef.
“I will give her back to my father. It will be up to him to decide what is to be done with her.”
Ragnar looked at him, and his voice was firm and strong. “I will take her, Magnus, if your father agrees to it. I will beat her, doubt it not, if she behaves churlishly. I can control her.”
Magnus smiled at his friend. “I believe you are the one who has lost his wits, Ragnar.”
Zarabeth faced Orm from a distance of six feet. Her gown was tattered and filthy. Her hair was matted and tangled down her back. She felt exposed and more afraid than she ever had in her life. Ingunn was walking away, her head lowered.
“Ingunn, no! Do not leave!”
She paused but did not turn back.
“I am not an ill-looking brute, Zarabeth. Why do you not want me?”
She looked at him then and saw the honest puzzlement on his face. She very nearly laughed. His eyes were calm as his voice. There was no madness in him yet. Still, he terrified her. He unbuckled the wide leather belt at his waist, all the while watching her.
“If you rape me I will kill you.”
He smiled. “You are a woman. You speak nonsense, yet I do not like to be threatened by you, Zarabeth. If you don’t wish to feel my belt against your back, keep your tongue in your mouth.” He raised the wide belt with the sword still deep in its scabbard.
She kept her eyes on his face and repeated, “If you rape me I will kill you. You will have to kill me first to protect yourself, for I swear it to my Christian God and to your Viking gods as well.”
