Thorolf said nothing. More guards had come forward, and a long spear held him away from Royce. Others held the rest of the group back.
“Do you need an incentive to loosen your tongue?” Royce demanded.
He lost his patience when Thorolf still didn’t answer. He began to drag the lad to the prisoners’ post. When the boy fell because of his angry stride, Royce yanked him roughly to his feet, barking orders at his men as he went. When they reached the post, he shoved the boy against it, facing it, and caught both wrists together around it, holding them firm until one of his men ran up to him with a short rope, which he quickly used to bind them.
He stepped away from the post then, looking to where he had left Thorolf behind. Other of the Vikings were now shouting at him, but Thorolf kept his mouth firmly closed, though his blue eyes were hostile. Did Thorolf think Royce only meant to keep the lad tied here? He would disabuse him of that notion quickly enough.
Royce stood behind the lad, his own back blocking the post from the prisoners’ view. Then, taking the dagger from his belt, he cut away the boy’s thick fur vest down its center. The leather tunic he attacked next was so tight that he knew he probably cut the boy’s back as he sliced it open from top to bottom, but not a single sound was heard in protest.
Soft white skin met his eyes, making Royce frown. There was no thick muscle to take the sting of the lash. And he had in fact cut the boy’s tender skin. A thin streak of crimson ran from the shoulder blades halfway to the waist. This really was just a babe he was about to order whipped—if Thorolf didn’t volunteer the truth about him.
Royce stepped to the side again so they could see what he had done. Thorolf cried, “Nay!” and shoved the spear away from him, trying to make his way to Royce. Ohthere pulled a spear from a guard’s hands and with it knocked two others away, then dared anyone to take it from him as he too started toward the post in a murderous rage.
Royce called for their attention and they stopped, seeing his dagger pressing against the soft white back. “The truth, Thorolf.”
“No one! A boy!” the Viking still insisted.
Waite brought the lash forward. Thorolf shouted, “Nay!” again and started to say something else, but the lad was violently shaking his head back and forth and Thorolf fell silent. Royce was enraged at that. Although he said not a word, the lad’s wishes held sway.
“That was stupid of you,” Royce snapped as he came around the post so he could see the lad’s face, as well as the now-quiet Vikings. “You will suffer, not he. You cannot tell me, but I will have him tell me you lead them. ’Tis obvious. I want it confirmed.”
He did not expect an answer from a mute, nor did he think his words were understood. He was angry that they would make him go through with this, and angrier still when those pretty aqua eyes peeked up at him for the briefest second, before the head was bent to where he could not see the face. Damned if that wasn’t something a female would do. In fact, too many things about this boy smacked of femininity. If he didn’t know it was impossible, he would be tempted to pull down the front of that tunic just to assure himself that his imaginings were groundless. Other lads were known to have long-lashed, pretty eyes and soft skin, until they passed that certain age to become men. This one just hadn’t reached that age yet.
Royce nodded at Waite to begin. The lash fell and a soft whistle of expelled breath came from the lad. No other sounds stirred the quiet yard. Thorolf remained silent, though his fists were clenched and every muscle in his body was tensed to prevent him from moving. Royce nodded again.
This time the tall, slim body slammed into the post and then jerked back reflexively to the full stretch of the arms. The opened leather tunic started to slip down over the upper arms. The boy quickly pressed back against the post again without help from the lash, but not before a strip of white linen fell out from under the tunic.
Royce bent to pick up the cloth, which looked very much like a bandage, except there was no blood on it. A knot was on one end, revealing that he had cut through it when he had opened the tunic. Two round indents had somehow worked their way into the cloth, almost as if the strip had been placed over…
“Nay, I will not believe it!”
But his eyes rose to that bent head, and then his hand jerked out and gripped the tunic, yanking it down. He sucked in his breath, then swore violently on seeing the evidence that turned the boy into a woman. His other hand came up and tore the bandage from her head, and he swore again as a long golden braid tumbled down her back.
A collective groan now came from the prisoners, but not a sound had she made, not a tear was in the eyes that looked straight at him now. What in hell kind of woman was she not to prove her sex to save herself a whipping? Or had she not realized that he would not whip a woman?
He cut her wrists loose, and she immediately shoved her tunic back up to cover herself. As soon as she had done that, he grabbed her hand and dragged her back to stand before the subdued Thorolf.
“A boy, is she? No one? And you let me whip her! To hide what? That she is a woman? Why?” Royce demanded furiously.
“To protect me,” Kristen answered.
Royce’s eyes swung to her, but she did not flinch from the fury in them. “No mute, either, and another one to understand our tongue! By God, you will tell me why you did not open your mouth to stop the whipping!”
“To protect myself from the rape of Saxon men,” she said simply.
He laughed cruelly at that. “You are too tall for my men to want, or did you not realize that? Nor are you a temptation in any other way, wench.”
It was his anger that brought forth those words, but they stung nonetheless. “What will you do with me now?” she dared to ask.
Royce was chagrined that she ignored his insults. “You will serve in the hall henceforth. How you are dealt with will depend on their behavior. Do you understand?”
“Aye.”
“Then make them understand.”
Kristen looked at Thorolf and Ohthere, who had moved to stand beside him. “He thinks to hold me as hostage inside his hall to ensure your behavior. You are not to let this affect your decisions. You must promise me that if the opportunity presents itself, you will escape. If just one of you can reach home, then you can send my father to me.”
“But he will kill you if we escape.”
