Linnet looked worriedly in Brenna’s direction. “I fear she will bring harm to herself.”
“Take her own life?”
“Nay, seek vengeance. I have never seen such hatred. She has brooded silently ever since we were taken. She will not even speak to me.”
“Her bitterness is understandable, but it will only be tolerated for so long.”
“You do not understand why she is filled with more hatred than the rest of us,” Linnet said quickly. “Her father died the day before the attack, and she has yet to recover from this. She was never in accord with the marriage to your son, but her father gave his word and she would have honored it. So she was prepared to receive her betrothed, not your husband, who attacked us without warning. She saw so much death that day. Her brother-in-law, her servants, cut down before her. She could hear the screams of Cordella and my own when—when…”
“I understand. Go on.”
“And then Brenna was bested. To understand what this did to her, you have to know that she had never been defeated before. She was her father’s only child, raised without her mother, who died giving birth to her. To Angus, her father, she was the son he never had. He knew naught of a girl child. He taught her everything he would have taught a son. That day, when she was defeated, I suppose she felt as if she had failed her father. And then her personal servant, a woman who was like a mother to her, was brutally killed. Brenna screamed hysterically then for the first time in her life. She must feel shame now not only for that, but for being unable to help her people. She has brooded silently ever since.”
“’Tis a shame,” Heloise agreed, her dark brown eyes thoughtful. “But she is an intelligent girl, is she not? She will realize that she has no choice but to accept what has befallen her.”
“Why should she?” Cordella questioned, having listened quietly for as long as she could. “What is there for her here, or for any of us? But Brenna? Ha! You have not seen pride ’til you have seen hers. She will never accept this enforced slavery. Look at her now. She will not even speak to you, let alone serve you. You will have to kill her first!”
Heloise smiled, her eyes hard as she gazed at Cordella. “Whether she serves or not will not be my concern. She has been given to Garrick and will go to his home. You, on the other hand, fall under my domain, since Hugh has chosen you, and he and his wife live here in my home. Hugh owns you now, but I rule this house, and you will be answerable to me.”
Cordella’s face turned ashen, but she said no more. She did not care to be under this woman’s rule, but she had seen the look the mighty Hugh had given her. Mayhaps all was not lost.
“Will I be allowed to accompany Brenna?” Linnet asked anxiously.
“Nay. My husband desires to keep you for himself. You will stay here also.”
Linnet’s cheeks burned hotly. “I—I am…” She could not finish.
“Do not worry, Linnet. I am not a jealous woman. ’Tis common here that our men will pleasure themselves with their women slaves. I believe that we are not unique in this, that ’tis the same the world over. Some women will not tolerate their husbands’ concubines in their homes, but I am not such a one. So rest easy. I still say we shall be friends.”
“Thank you.”
“As for the rest of you,” Heloise said, her voice filled with authority again, “you will remain in my house for a time, but not for long. When my husband decides, you will be given to friends of his, those who have served him well. I do not think your lot will be as hard as you imagine. In time, all of you will adjust.”
Brenna was put in a small boat resembling a canoe, and taken further inland. Only one man, Ogden, escorted her, and he had been given explicit instructions from Anselm’s wife. The journey was a short one. Soon high cliffs bordered the fjord again, casting the water and the entire valley into murky gloom. Then she saw it; Ulric Haardrad’s stone house, perched high up on the cliff, appeared like nature’s own extension of the gray rock.
The Viking accompanying Brenna was not pleased with his task. As they approached the wooden landing, he rowed the small craft with increasing speed. He would have preferred, and thought briefly on it, to slit the girl’s throat and toss her into the bottomless depths of the fjord; for hadn’t she wounded his brother and so caused him untold shame? But then Ogden would have Anselm to answer to—not to mention Garrick, who owned the girl now. And to be honest, there was no honor in killing a woman, let alone one who was bound and helpless. Now she was nothing like the black fox who fought with such cunning against his brother. Still Ogden hated her, this woman who dressed and acted like a man and looked at him with the eyes of a tigress, hot and venomous.
The landing was not directly below the stone house, but further up the coast, where the cliff began its craggy decline. Here Ogden roughly yanked Brenna from the boat and dragged her up a steep, rocky path. The trail was a narrow one made by the slaves who hauled the great stones up to the site Ulric had chosen for his house. At the top was a huge boulder pushed to one side. If need be it could be used to block the way from the fjord. Ogden noted that Ulric’s house would make an ideal fortress in case of war.
The house resembled the wooden domiciles of Norway only in one respect: it was windowless. Otherwise it was like the huge stone manors Ogden had seen on the Scottish coast; it had chimneys through which smoke could escape, and a second floor to live in. Rather than facing the sea or the fields behind it, the entrance to the house was on the side, where old, gnarled trees grew. A storage house and livestock sheds, as well as the stable, were behind the house; all were made of wood.
Before he died, Ulric had given this house and a few acres of fertile land to Garrick in Anselm’s presence, so there would be no dispute afterward. Anselm had not wanted the house anyway, for its stone walls made it so cold in winter. For Garrick, however, it was an inheritance. Though but small, it was the only one he would receive, since by tradition all Anselm owned would go to his first born, Hugh.
Garrick was not a farmer like Ogden and other free men who had fertile land here, nor was he a fisherman, as most were. He was a hunter, skilled with the arrow and spear, his hunting ground the dense forests bordering his land. He liked to trek to the unpopulated lands further inland, where the lynx and elk abounded. In winter, he was not opposed to sailing north through the warm coastal waters as far as the North Cape, in search of polar bears. As proof of his hunting skill, he had a large cargo of furs gathered over two winters, which he took to trade in the East.
Although Garrick was not a farmer, he allowed his slaves to grow small quantities of produce; thence the onions and peas that graced his table, rye for bread, and barley for the honey mead consumed nightly.
Ogden had stayed a week at Garrick’s house the winter before he sailed east. His hospitality was as generous as his father’s. Lavish in supplying food and drink, he even gave Ogden a pretty slave girl to warm his bed, which sorely needed it in that cold house.
Ogden liked Garrick, and decided thoughtfully that the young man did not need this gift from his father. This girl would be a thorn in Garrick’s side, a veritable she-devil who would like as not slit his throat some night while he slept. Still, she was Garrick’s problem, and, for the moment, his housekeeper’s.
The entrance to the house was open to let in the breath of summer. The weather was already turning cooler, a sign that the season of the midnight sun was drawing to a close and making ready for the long winter night, when the sun deserted her northern peoples completely.
“Ho! Mistress Yarmille!” Ogden bellowed as he stamped into the hall, tugging Brenna behind him as he would a roped cow.
“Ogden!” The surprised greeting came from the opening at the end of the hall.
This area had been closed off years earlier with a makeshift wall, for Ulric in his old age could not tolerate smoke from the cooking fires, and had ordered the cooking done behind this wall. Others had tried to do this, too, but not for long, for the warmth of the cooking fires was more desirable than the absence of smoke.
