After a week, Heloise came as promised. Brenna recognized her voice and that of Yarmille as they approached the room. As they entered, Heloise stopped short when she saw Brenna trussed on the bed, but Yarmille continued to walk into the room.
“You see,” Yarmille said, her voice condescending. “As I told you, she is but a nuisance.”
Heloise came closer, her eyes cold. “Is this the way you treat my son’s property, to tie her up like an animal?” she demanded angrily.
“Ogden said she had the look of a runaway,” Yarmille explained. “I only made sure she would be here on Garrick’s return.”
“Runaway?” Heloise shook her head in exasperation.
“Where would she go? There is no place. Nor do we know when Garrick will return. It could be months yet. Would you keep the girl like this indefinitely?”
“I—”
“Look at her!” Heloise said sharply. “She is pale and has grown thinner in only a week’s time. Have you no sense, woman? This girl will be a valuable asset to my son. He can sell her at market for a high price, or he can keep her for his own pleasure, but he will not appreciate the way you have taken her under your care in his absence.”
Yarmille could see the truth in this and she paled slightly. It would not do for the girl to waste away during her confinement. At once she became furious with the girl for putting her in this predicament, but she hid this successfully beneath the tight smile she gave Heloise.
“You are right. I will see to the girl myself henceforth. This one will greatly please Garrick. She may even make him forget about Morna, do you not agree?”
“That, old friend, is doubtful,” Heloise replied stiffly before she turned to Brenna. “You will be untied, child, but you must not attempt to escape from here. Do you understand?” she asked softly. “There is nowhere for you to go.”
Brenna could not respond to the kind words, for they offered little hope, especially after these two women had just discussed her as if she were a piece of property. She turned her head away.
Heloise sat down on the bed. “This stubborn silence does you no good, Brenna. I had hoped you would be at least a little reconciled to your new home by now. Anselm thought you would please Garrick. If you make the effort, ’twill go well for you.”
Brenna would not face her, but Heloise did not give up. “If you have fears, speak to me of them. Mayhaps I can relieve them. Brenna?” She hesitated, then added, “My son will not be difficult to serve. He is not demanding or cruel. Mayhaps you will even like him and find happiness here.”
Brenna’s head snapped around, her eyes glowing like polished silver. “Never!” she hissed, surprising both women with the force of her tone and the fact that she did indeed have a tongue. “I have no fear, mistress. ’Tis you who will have reason to fear, for you will rue the day you tried to make a slave of me! Blood will flow from it, no doubt that of your precious Garrick!”
“What did she say?” Yarmille demanded.
Heloise shook her head and sighed. “She is still overly bitter, but ’twill not last. She will soon find she has no alternative but to bend—a little, anyway.”
“And in the meantime?” Yarmille asked.
Heloise looked at Brenna thoughtfully, meeting her defiant gaze. “Will you behave if you are given the freedom of this room?”
“I make no promises!” Brenna retorted hotly and turned away again.
“Can you not be reasonable?”
Brenna would say no more, and Heloise gave up at last and left. Yarmille, however, remained.
“Well, Brenna Carmarham, now that her highness has departed, there is no need to free you just yet. This eve will be soon enough,” Yarmille said woodenly, though she spoke for her own benefit, never dreaming that Brenna understood her perfectly. “Tomorrow you will be given extra food to put some meat on your bones, and taken out to air—just like a rug, you might say.” She laughed at her own jest before she walked out of the room.
Brenna would have killed the woman if she had a sword in hand and was not still hindered by the cursed ropes. Of all the hypocritical, vile, loathsome creatures! Later she would be freed, at least, and on the morrow she would make plans to escape. They were fools to trust her!
The great Viking longship moved up the fjord like a huge dragon with oars for wings, and floated peacefully to its home. The men wished to cheer and make a ruckus as they passed Anselm’s landing, but Garrick stopped them. Though the midnight sun hovered like a large ball of fire on the horizon, it was still the middle of night, and nearly everyone would be sleeping soundly. There would be time aplenty on the morrow for revelry and the greetings of old friends. But for now Garrick wanted to be home, to sleep the remainder of the night in his own bed.
The men would stay the night at Garrick’s house. In the morning they would go on to their homes, collect their families and return to Garrick’s for a gala celebration. Exhaustion lay heavily on them all, for they had fought a storm that ended only hours earlier.
Two men elected to stay on the ship, since the cargo would not be unloaded that night. The others followed Garrick up the narrow cliff path, carrying only essentials with them. The house was dark and silent, for the weather was not yet cold enough to leave fires burning through the night. Sunlight streamed in through the open door, giving them ample light to make their way about without banging into the long tables and benches which filled the hall.
Garrick made his way up the darkened stairs with little difficulty, for he knew this house well, having spent a good part of his youth here with his grandfather. On the second floor were four rooms: his own, the large master chamber on one side of the stairs; a small sewing room on the other side; across the wide corridor, a guest room furnished with two large beds; and the room given to Yarmille, his housekeeper. At the end of the corridor at the rear of the house was a door which opened onto stone steps leading outside. The door was there mainly to let in the fresh air of summer, but Garrick was rarely home at that time to enjoy it.
He opened the door now to light the corridor, then returned to the hall for some of his men, Perrin included, to show them to the guest room. The others would bed down in the hall on benches, hard beds being more to their liking.
Finally Garrick entered his own chamber. Here the backless couch, reportedly from the Orient, and the two thronelike chairs he had purchased at Hedeby would be brought. At present, the spacious room was poorly furnished by only his huge bed, a single high-backed chair, and a large coffer. No rugs, save an old bearskin, warmed the cold floor, and no coverings adorned the walls. This would be rectified once the cargo from the ship was unloaded, for Garrick had purchased extravagantly for his home in order to give the cold stone chambers some semblance of comfort.
