Loki's Daughters (13 page)

Elli shrugged. "If you will tie him onto the rope, we will haul him up."

With the extra length of the hide rope, Tanni fashioned a sling around the lamb. The two women pulled upward, bringing the lamb out of the pit, and shooed the little creature out the cavern's entrance.

"Maybe we shouldn't-" said Selma.

"Don't be silly." Elli signaled to Mildread above, who suddenly unfastened the rope and let it drop into the pit.

"Hey!"

"Oh, dear," said Elli. "The rope has fallen."

"How am I going to get out of here?" shouted the Viking.

"I don't know. We don't have another rope."

"Then go get another one." Even the man's desperation seemed to echo in the hollow chamber below.

"Aye," said Selma, glancing hopefully at Elli. "We could do that, couldn't we?"

Elli glared back, then smiled sweetly to the Viking. "There are no other ropes."

"Then ask my friends," the man shouted back. "Send one of them for me."

"There's another way out, Viking," Elli said. "If we can't find help, I'm sure you can find the way."

Mildread slid down from her hiding spot, into the passage beside Elli and Selma. "Come on," she whispered, "let's get out of here."

The three women skittered for the cavern's entrance, but not before Selma turned back to give a rueful glance at the man they abandoned in the pit.

***

Ronan walked along the edge of the valley where steep, forested hillsides abutted gently sloping grassland, carefully surveying his valley. The battle for the land had been the easy part, but the women themselves would not be won in a day.

Perhaps he had been a bit naive. Ronan had really expected these women to be a bit more grateful. They were being saved, after all, even if they did see it as a conquest.

Four of the smaller abandoned cottages in the lower valley had been made over to house his men. New pens enclosed horses and sheep awaiting the greening of pasture land in the high valley. Over Arienh's objections, he and his men had patched thatch, repaired enclosures, and begun the plowing and sowing that had been dangerously neglected. But the women went about their business as if the intruders were not even there. He could not get even one of them to look him in the eye.

"Somebody? Help!"

Ronan stopped, puzzled, his ears straining at the sound.

"Help. Anybody out there?"

A man's voice, faint, echoing, indistinct. With a frown, Ronan studied the hillside and saw a cavern scooped into the steep grey cliff, about a man’s height above him. The echoing sound seemed to come from there. He scrambled up the rock to the cave. A dim glow came from the dark, damp air, but he could not see his footing.

"Help!"

"Who is it?" he called back, feeling his way along rough rock.

"Tanni. Is it you, Ronan?"

"Aye. Tanni, where are you?"

"In a pit. Be careful."

As Ronan groped his way into the cavern, the light grew brighter, reflecting off water-slick cavern walls. As it brightened more, he spotted the pit before him, and looking down, young Tanni below with a torch in his hand.

"Tanni? How did you get down there? Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm not hurt. Get me out of here."

"How did you get there?"

"With a rope. But the rope has, uh, fallen in. The sides are too slick to climb."

"But why?"

"Never mind why. Just get me out of here!"

Never mind why? That didn't bode well. He shrugged. He'd get it out of him later.

"I'll go for help," he suggested.

"No. No, just-just catch the rope and pull me out."

With a thud, the coiled rope landed at Ronan's feet and he snagged it before it could slide back down into the hole. Ronan looped one end around a column of rock the size of a man, and tested it for safety. The other end, he threw back to Tanni.

"Climb."

Tanni shinnied up the rope, and as soon as Tanni had solid rock beneath his feet again, Ronan grabbed the man's jerkin and pulled. As they emerged from the cavern, Ronan checked him to confirm Tanni was unhurt.

"All right, Tanni, how did this happen?"

A flush crept onto the man's cheeks as he studied the ground. "I uh, went after a lamb."

"Where's the lamb?"

"It's already out," Tanni mumbled.

"Out? How did you get it out, and leave yourself behind?"

"I-never mind."

"Ah. The women. Well, they said they'd make us regret coming here."

The smaller man's light blue eyes pleaded for protection. "Don't tell anybody, Ronan."

Ronan agreed it was a secret worth keeping, although it was probably hopeless to try, just as it had been futile to expect Egil to keep quiet about how he'd got his wound. His men loved nothing more than a thorough teasing of their fellows. He had been right, he'd never live that down. But it would behoove them to be more vigilant in this little war.

***

Tanni was in a rare fit, and drunk, to boot. Hardly
 
surprising, Ronan thought, considering the humiliation he’d suffered this afternoon. Tanni was usually the first to tease, so it was his turn.

"So why can't we just pick the ones we want and take them?" Tanni demanded.

"Nay."

"Why not? Stop their pranks."
 
Tanni guzzled ale from his horn. Much more, and someone would have to carry him home to his bunk.

"Nay," Ronan said again. "You wouldn't do that to women back home. You'd give a girl a proper courting, and that's what you'll do here."

Olav swirled the mead around in his horn, frowning, instead of drinking. "A girl back home wouldn't be pulling pranks like this. Maybe they really just need a strong hand, Ronan."

"And a hard rod. That's what a woman really needs." Bjorn, too, had been drinking hard all evening. He tilted back his horn so far that the liquid dribbled down his red mustache.

"Not this time," said Egil. "They've had too much of that."

"Aye, your Birgit, has, it's obvious. Beyond me why you want another man's leavings."

Egil got up from his bench and the room went silent. In three deliberate strides, he faced Bjorn, the smaller man by far. Egil folded his arms. "Never say that again, Bjorn, or you will not live to face the morn."

Bjorn shifted his startled glance about him and found no supporters, not even Tanni.

Ronan stiffened. This was dangerous. For a young man, Egil had an even, mindful temperament, but he had a line he would not allow to be crossed. Bjorn, no longer young, had never learned moderation. Bjorn was the one who worried Ronan the most because he didn't know much about the man, beyond that he was an adventurer, battle-scarred and hard, but a good blacksmith.

But Ronan did not intend to let him cross Egil’s line, and stepped between the two men.

"Nay. We propose to stay here, and live with these Celts," Ronan said. "But all that they have suffered teaches them not to trust us. So we will earn their respect and trust. You agreed to this, Bjorn. If you have changed your mind, we will see you back to the Green Isle or the Manx Isle in less than a day."

The man grunted and turned away. He raised his drinking horn and downed the contents in one long gulp. Still grumbling, he pushed his way past his companions and stalked out the door.

"We came expecting to have to fight for a place," said Olav. "Bjorn is a good man in a fight."

"But it's all he knows, Ronan," said Egil. "And smithing. He's never been a farmer or trader like the rest of us."

"Nay, we'll give him a chance."

The door burst open again, and Bjorn dashed back inside. "Damn women!" he shouted. "The horses!"

From the darkness came the roar of hooves pounding the earth, raucous neighs, dogs barking. Men raced for the door, out into the chilly night as the last of the horses sped through the breach in the paddock and across the open meadow.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Damn women, indeed.

Grabbing the flowing tail of a galloping horse, Ronan hurled himself into the flow. As he groped for the mane and leapt onto the animal's back, a flash of sympathy for Bjorn's attitude surged through him. It was the women’s doing. He’d checked the paddock, himself.

As another horse galloped past, Ronan snagged its mane and yanked, reining it in as it slowed with a harsh whinny. Tanni caught up with him and alit on the horse's back.

Ronan dug his heels into the flanks and raced after the stampeding herd to cut off and slow down any beasts he came upon. In the light of the waxing moon, he saw other riders who had also captured horses. Bjorn rode up, then Egil. The roar of hooves drowned out their voices, so he waved to signal directions. The two tore off toward the river after part of the herd.

A good thing about horses. They didn't run headlong very far. The creatures slowed as their stamina faded and fear abated. And the valley was narrow, so there weren't many places for the animals to go. Soon, the Northmen had gentled most of the horses and coaxed them back toward the fold.

"Still three missing," Egil said at last as Ronan and Bjorn closed up the gap in the enclosure.

"Only three, we can find. They'll probably wander back by themselves when they discover there's more grain in the paddock than grass on the ground."

"Aye. They know what's good for them."

Unlike women.

***

"Damn women," Bjorn snarled, "must've used this place for a sheepfold. Never saw such a mess."

Ronan repressed a smile as he watched the blacksmith fuss about the abandoned smithy, sweeping debris with a broom that was in such bad shape it needed to be discarded. The forge had gone unused for a while, that was obvious, but it was hardly a mess.

"The mill's worse," Ronan replied.

"Well, then, the mill's no use at all, is it?"

"Only because the millstone's cracked. Not anything the women could help. I’ve sent a ship for a new one from Caen. You know that."

"And you're all a bunch of fools," Bjorn insisted. "They'll put rings in your noses and lead you about like pigs to market. A man's got to take a firm hand with a woman."

"Don't lay a hand on any of them, Bjorn."

Bjorn's gaze flicked at him dismissively. "Didn't say I'd hit them. There's ways to control a woman without hitting her."

"And it works better to persuade her she wants to do things your way."

"Bah. Bunch of women yourselves. Should've stayed on the Green Isle."