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One of the Vikings came up to him, grabbed the half-eaten chunk of meat off the plate, took a bite of it himself, and then threw it down on the ground. Emmel’s heart sank as his belly still ached, and he tired of the hole that existed within him. The Vikings laughed.

“You’ve eaten enough. We want to be entertained, and since you’re the newcomer here, you get to entertain us. Dance for us!” Varrik said.

“I dinnae dance,” Emmel said.

The laughter died down as he refused their request. The air was thick and heavy. The sense of danger was palpable, and Emmel’s skin crawled.

“What do you mean you don’t dance? I thought you said you would do anything for coin, or aren’t you as bad off as you claim?” Varrik said. Another Viking pulled out a pouch and jangled it in front of Emmel.

“I’m just trying tae enjoy the evening and give my weary body a rest. It’s been a long day,” Emmel said in a beleaguered tone. He didn’t have to lie about being tired.

“The day isn’t over yet, and we want you to dance for us.” Without any warning, Varrik grabbed Emmel by the shoulders and pulled him to his feet. The Vikings began clapping to a rhythm, and they expected Emmel to dance. He was going to do no such thing. He stood resolutely, planting his feet firmly to the ground. His gaze drifted past their shoulders, hoping to find some ally somewhere who might take pity on him, but everyone else was minding their own business. No doubt they had the wisdom to leave Varrik alone when he wanted his amusement.

“Come on, dance!” Varrik said again, this time shoving Emmel to try and get him to move. The other Vikings fished their hands into the pouch, and coins began to rain down to the ground, gleaming amid the grass and mud. Yet still, Emmel did not dance. The mocking laughter faded. Varrik nodded his eyes. His voice became a low growl.

“I thought you said you would do anything for coin? Perhaps it doesn’t mean as much to you as you claimed,” Varrik said.

Emmel could almost hear the cogs turning in Varrik’s mind. Varrik didn’t strike him as the cleverest man, but he had already caught Emmel speaking to Isla, and it wouldn’t take much for him to wonder if Emmel was really who he claimed. There was always the danger that Varrik might drag him back to Rune Dolph as well, and if more questions were asked, the more Emmel feared his story would not stand up to scrutiny, and then there would be no chance of rescuing Isla.

So he danced.

He lifted one foot after the other and swayed to the rhythm of the Vikings’ song. Shame flowed over his body as he ignored the instinct to fight back and defend himself, as he usually would have done, and instead danced like some jester. The Vikings cajoled and mocked and insulted him as he danced. He ducked down at certain points to gather handfuls of coin, trying to live up to the role he was playing. Being a slightly richer man at the end of this was not enough of a comfort to allay the sinking feeling in his heart, however. Money had never meant that much to him, and nothing could be worth debasing himself for.

At one point, he was picking gold off the ground. As he was about to rise, the Vikings thought it would be funny to knock him off balance. The ground rose to meet Emmel, and he landed with a thud. The Vikings thought this was intensely funny and howled with laughter, but mocking him and humiliating him wasn’t enough. They had to hurt him as well. Each one of them got a kick in. Emmel curled himself up as small as he could make himself and braced himself against the impact of their boots. Pain flooded through his body, radiating under his skin and along his bones, making everything shake inside him. He closed his eyes and prayed for it to be over, and eventually, it was.

He pushed himself up as the Vikings moved away to find their next source of amusement. Emmel dusted himself off and groaned as he got to his feet. His gaze met the fire, and for a moment, he lost himself in the dancing flames. They seemed to form patterns, and he wondered if he looked long enough whether he might see an answer forming, something to guide him forward. How was he supposed to save someone who did not want to be saved?

He went back to his plate and finished the crumbs of cheese that remained. He looked at the meat that had been thrown to the ground too. The rumble in his stomach was as fierce as the pain that tormented him, but he had debased himself enough for one night. He would go hungry again and hope that the following day would be better, for surely it could not be worse.

He winced as he limped back to the stable where the horses awaited him. His silent companions shared the night with him, and he made his bed out of straw, ignoring the pain as slumber took hold of him. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought about Isla and how maddening it was that she should want to stay in this place.