It was going to be a wonderful day, he decided as he dressed and went below. Not even the prospect of trouble with the prisoners could daunt his good mood this morn.
He found them in the yard, herded together in front of the shelter that had been built for them, Waite having held them back from working until Royce came. He dismissed them into Lyman’s charge, keeping only Thorolf back. The younger man was definitely disturbed about something, and Royce surmised from the look he received when he nodded Thorolf back into the hut where they could talk in private, that it had something to do with himself.
“I am told you fought amongst yourselves this morn, Thorolf. Do you wish to tell me why?”
Thorolf rattled his chain as he moved about in his agitation. “That?” He dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “’Twas naught. Bjarni anger Ohthere with jesting.” Here he became still and met Royce’s eyes, his own narrowing. “Concern you and Kristen.”
Royce digested that thoughtfully, doubting he would learn exactly what was said. “Do I take it you took exception to Bjarni’s jest, too?”
“Aye. Too long Kristen leave us. I need speak to her…please.”
Royce stiffened, knowing what it must have cost this brawny Viking to say that word. He became suspicious of his motive. This was the man he had watched so often protecting Kristen when she was still thought to be a lad. He claimed to be only a friend. But was that the truth?
“How long have you known Kristen, Thorolf?”
“Always. Neighbors at home. When children, swim, ride, hunt together. My sister Tyra and Kristen close, very close.”
“So she is your sister’s friend, yet you seem to have made yourself responsible for her. Why is that?” Thorolf remained mute to that question. Royce walked around him until he stood at the Viking’s back. “Is it because her brother is dead, or does she mean more to you than just a friend?”
Thorolf turned around to face him. “Speak slower, Saxon. Or, better, bring Kristen speak for you.”
“Oh, clever,” Royce sneered, “but I think not. She is well settled in the hall and does not need to be reminded of your plight. She can tell you naught that I cannot tell you. She is well and not overburdened. So you see, you have no reason to worry about her.”
“So you say. Need hear her say.”
Royce shook his head to that. “If this is all you wanted to speak to me about…” He began to walk toward the door.
“Saxon!” Thorolf called angrily. “No touch Kristen.”
Royce turned back incredulously. “Are you actually telling me to keep my hands off her?”
“Aye.”
He began to laugh. “What arrogance! Mayhap you have not noticed, but you are in no position to make demands.”
“Will you marry her?”
“Oh, enough, Viking,” Royce said impatiently. “She has been enslaved, not made a guest. What happens to her depends on you and your comrades, as I said before. She has not been harmed, nor forced to do aught she is not willing to do.”
“Then you no touch yet?”
This time Royce did not answer. Thorolf drew his own conclusions, which detonated his Norse temper. Royce was not prepared for the attack, but then, he had not thought a smaller, less muscular man would dare. Suddenly he found himself tackled to the floor, his throat enclosed by a pair of hands that were deadly serious. His breath was completely cut off until the point of his dagger slipped an inch into Thorolf’s side.
“Ease off, slowly,” Royce commanded him.
He did, then stood up and backed away, holding a hand to his bleeding side. He was still angry, more so now because he had failed. Royce was angry now as well.
“What did you hope to accomplish by that bit of foolishness?” he demanded.
“So you no touch Kristen again.”
“By killing me? Aye, that would have done it, but then you would not be around to gloat over it.”
“No kill,” Thorolf insisted. “Other ways to make you no touch again, ever.”
Royce frowned until Thorolf made a sharp twisting motion with his hand. Then he grunted. “Aye, so there are. I will have to remember to keep you at arm’s length from now on, since I like all my parts just the way they are.” And then he shook his head as he got to his feet. “Young fool. Did you disbelieve me when I said Kristen had not been forced? She has no complaints residing inside the hall, other than for the chains she wears.”
Thorolf glared at him. “You lie! Many want Kristen.Many,” he emphasized. “She refuse all.”
