A challenge to resist her.
Elena watched Ragnar from the corner of her eye. He remained at her side and whenever they passed another Norseman, his hand came to rest upon her spine. He wore a chain mail corselet with a sword at his waist and another dagger in a hidden fold of his cloak.
“Are you expecting to be attacked?” she asked, uncertain why he was so tense. The dark expression on his face held a hidden threat to others. Though she spoke in a lighter tone, she knew that he’d made enemies here.
“Have you forgotten the Danes who tried to make us into slaves?” he said.
“No.” But even so, one look at Ragnar would terrify any would-be assailant.
His grip tightened upon her palm as he guided her toward the outskirts of Dubh Linn. “It’s been only one moon since theDanes attacked the city. I wouldn’t put it past them to try again,” he told her.
They walked for a mile and his mood didn’t lighten. He seemed to study every face, searching for the subtle signs of a person concealing a weapon they were about to wield.
Beneath the harsh scents lay the charred memory of the night the Danes had attacked. The remnants of ash and burned longhouses stood all around them. Several men were attempting to repair the damage, lifting logs into place, while others wielded an ax to notch the wood.
As they walked farther, she leaned in closer to Ragnar. Though it was meant to seek his protection, he stiffened at her proximity.
She tried not to let it bother her, but it reminded her of the way Styr had not desired her. Of how she’d felt like a cold, unfeeling wife, never able to enjoy marital pleasures. At least, not until she’d shared a forbidden night with Ragnar.
Her mind was tangled up in confusion, not knowing what to think of him. He’d been there for her always, a friend she’d come to rely on. But now he was avoiding her, and she didn’t know how to mend the breach between them. It was as if he wanted nothing to do with her.
Words wouldn’t mean anything to him. Ragnar was a man of action.
His eyes missed nothing, as they moved into the shadowed parts of the city. He kept his expression rigid, letting other men see that he would murder them where they stood if they dared to threaten her.
When they reached the outskirts of the market, they passed by the thralls who were being auctioned. There was a woman being led up to the block, her hands bound before her. She wore a shapeless dress and her eyes remained fixed upon the ground.
Elena winced at the sight, and she could almost imagine herself in the woman’s place. “Thank you for saving me from that fate.”
“I would never have let them take you, that night on the ship.” Ragnar gripped her hand to emphasize his words. “Our men may have survived it...but it’s harder for a woman.”
His words were underscored when the slavers stripped away the gown, baring the woman’s naked body to those about to bid upon her.May the gods have mercy,she prayed. The female slave was heavily pregnant.
“It’s not right,” Elena argued. “Thrall or not, a newborn babe should not be born into a life of slavery.”
His grip upon her hand gentled and he inclined his head. “But we can’t save her,” he said. “We haven’t the silver for it. Perhaps one day her master will free her and her child.”
Elena couldn’t stop staring at the woman’s swollen womb. This woman would suffer, as well as her child. Her childbearing would be fraught with hardship.
Sadness weighed upon her as she turned away, reminded of her purpose. There were many children, and she moved toward them to pass out the food she’d brought. One boy hung back from the others. He was tracing his hands along one of the walls and when she called out to him, he never looked back. His clothing hung upon him and he appeared frailer than the others.
Elena reached out to touch his shoulder. The moment her hand made contact, he jerked away and began to run. She stared at the street for a moment, wondering about him.
When she handed another girl a piece of bread, she pointed in the direction the child had fled. “Who was that boy?”
“Matheus,” the girl answered. She pulled the center of the bread out, eating it first.
“And does he have a family to take care of him?” Elena prompted.
She expected the girl to answer no, but she shrugged. “He lives with his parents.” When she said nothing else, Elena turned back to Ragnar. He beckoned for her to return with him, now that the food was gone.
“We should go,” he told her. “I’ll have our kinsmen ask if there are any others who need help.”
It seemed that his earlier anger had diminished and she was glad of it. “Thank you.”
But instead of leading her back the way they had come, Ragnar took her in a different direction, toward the water’s edge.
“There’s something I want to show you.” He led her past all of the boats to a small outbuilding where several men were bringing long planks. Curious, she followed him, wondering why he had brought her here.
