Ragnar the Just (Ragnar the Dane #3) (14 page)

He should get home for tea; it was getting dark as it was an overcast day. The autumn was drawing on and t
he nights were getting longer. T
h
e wind hissed through the trees
whose leaves were turning red, gold, orange, yellow, and as he locked the front door, the noise made him shiver. He was being silly to see threats everywhere these days.

Would his life be easier if he’d kept quiet about his desire for Kjartan?
Certainly, but not happier.
He’d been living a half-life with Halldora, unaware and stifled, but now he felt released and free. He’d never felt as passionate towards her as he’d felt towards Brodir, let alone Kjartan, who provoked such overwhelming feelings in him.

Branches creaked, making his heart pound as he couldn’t yet see the lights of the village. He speeded up his pace.

A figure stepped out from behind a tree and grabbed him by the arm.

“Think you got away with that,
ergi
?”
said the harsh voice of Styrkar, “b
ecause your filthy lover came to save you?”

Before Lini could reply, he felt his hands being tied and Styrkar dragging him along. They returned to the glass forge.

“Why are you bringing me back here?”

“You haven’t learned your lesson yet,” he sneered, one
of his eyes shut with bruising, “y
ou disgusting
ergi
.”

“But -
”

Styrkar’s fist connected with his jaw and all went black.

*
 
*
  *

Lini awoke lying f
ace down on the finishing table
where he decorated his glass vessels, joined beads into necklaces, smo
othed the rough edge of rings.
He could smell the s
ubstances he used for finishing; they were vile.
While his face was pressed against the table, his arms were stretched to either side of him, makin
g his shoulders ache in agony.
He
couldn’t move, ropes bound his wrists an
d were tied to the table legs.
His feet were spread apart on the floor, his ankles tied to the legs on that side of the table.

“Ha ha, now you get your punishment,” said Styrkar’s voice behind him. Lini managed to turn his
head a little and to his horror
saw the Huskarl unfastening his trousers. He pulled desperately at
the ropes tethering his hands.
He was defenceless and his stomach churned as he struggled
,
trying to free himself.

“That dirty coward disrespected me, so you’re going to pay.”

Styrkar stepped up to Lini
and ripped his trousers down
too. This couldn’t be happening;
it must be a nightmare. He struggled wildly, but he was tied too strongly.

“Don’t touch me!” he shouted.

“There’s no point shouting,” said Styrkar coldly. “Your forge is too far away for anyone to hear.” He leant over and spoke directly into his ear.
“Now you do what I want, pretty boy.
”

Alcohol fumes made Lini retch. He sq
uinted at his attacker’s face.
Disgust and desire were fighting in his eyes, and a chill clutched at Lini’s spine.

Styrkar began to push his cock into him, slowly, a little at a time, as it was difficult.  It felt like a knife blade and Lini cri
ed out with pain and revulsion.
After all the lovemaking with Kjartan, it was an agonising shock to his body. He had to stop Styrkar, but wriggling made it worse. Bile rose in his throat and tears forced themselves from his eyes, but he refused to make a sound.

“Oh, yes,” murmured Styrkar, moving back and forth rhythmically. “Yes, yes, yes, yes.”

He continued, faster and faster, grunting like a beast, panting. Lini’s heart pounded, his face pressed against the stinking table, praying for Kjartan to come looking for him.

*
 
*
  *

A while later, the sight of home had never been so welcome. Walking back there had been torment but he was determined to get to safety.

He slumped through the front door and Kjartan rushed to help him.

“What the hell’s happened?” he asked.

“Shut the door.” Lini was too tired and afraid to be polite. “Styrkar raped me.”

“He what?!
Whe
re is he? I’ll fucking kill him -
”

“Kjartan, please!” snapped Mildrith. “Lini needs our help. You can kill Styrkar later.”

Kjartan ha
lf carried his lover to the bed
and carefully laid him down on his front. He sat next to him, stroking his hair.

“I’ll kill him, don’t worry,” he whispered. “I’ll avenge you.”

“Lini, are you in terrible pain?” asked Mildrith, bringing a wet cloth for his injuries.

He nodded.

“Kjartan, get the washing tub and fill it with water. And put salt in it. That worked wonders for me after I had Dalla.”

Lini smiled weakly at her. “If this is what childbirth feels like, I’m glad I’m a man.”

They helped him sit in the water.

“This isn’t too bad, after the first shock.” He relaxed a little, still shaking but at last feeling safer.

“D’you
want
to tell us what happened?” asked Mildrith. “It might make you feel better.”

Lini took a deep breath and began, then Dalla started crying and Mildrith hurried to her.

“Carry on,” said Kjartan, stroking his hand. He was shaking with rage.
“If you want.”

Lini couldn’t stop the story pouring out now, even though he felt like he might vomit at any moment.

Kjartan’s rage grew in his heart. Styrkar deserved to die like the coward he was.

*
 
*
  *

The next day, Kjartan told Lini it was done.

“You won’t ever see Styrkar again,” he said, squeezing his hand.

“I wish I could have done it, but I just couldn’t,” whispered Lini.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to worry about him anymore.” He kissed him gently on the forehead.

*
 
*
  *

Lini recuperated in bed at home for the next few days while Kjartan and Mildrith went about their lives, trying to act as if everything was normal. The ploughing still had to be
done, as did the cooking, cleaning, weaving. Life didn’t just stop, even though Lini felt as if his had.

“I won’t tell anyone about the rape and neither will Mildrith,” said Kjartan, stroking his hair as he lay resting.

“T
hanks.” Lini’s voice was thin. H
e only smiled weakly these days.

“You’ll get over it. People do. They’re strong. They survive rape.”

“Has it -
has it ever happened to you?”

Kjartan flinched.
“No! I’m not the sort of man who gets
raped, I’m the sort of man who …
” He bit his lip.

“The sort of man who what?”

“I mean- I - I’m -
”

“You’re what?
The sort of man who rapes?
The sort of man who’s so strong and powerful that no one ever rapes him?”

“N –
no
- I  -
”

“What are you saying about me, t
hat I’m weak and unmanly, just the type who gets raped? Yes?”

“No.
Come on, I just meant -
"

“He tied me down! I couldn’t escape!”

“But -
” Kjartan ventured to stroke his arm but he moved it away.

“Don’t touch me! I don’t want someone who despises me!”

“I don’t despise you. You’re exaggerating.”

“Do you know what it’s like having a cock stuck inside you? This one was like a knife! It felt li
ke a blade cutting my arse out!
It hurt so much!” He was crying now, with humiliation and grief.

Kjartan gulped. Was this what it felt like for Lini when he did it? He didn’t dare ask. What if he’d really hurt Lini but he’d kept it quiet?

“Please tell me you’ve never raped anyone.”

He paused uncomfortably. “A c
ouple of women, I suppose. They – I -
”

“You’re a hypocrite! Sympathising with me but not the women you raped.”
Lini glared at him.
“I don’t want you if you’re a rapist.”

“What?”

“What I said.”

“That was in my past. I’m not like that anymore!”

“You still did it!”

“But -
”

“I don’t want someone who despises me and rapes people! Go away.”

He turned his head away so Kjartan got up and trudged off.

*
 
*
  *

“You’re so thoughtless,” scolded Mildrith as Kjartan sat next to her by the fire. “Of course he’s going to be upset and hurt at the moment. Can’t you imagine how awful he must feel?”

“I’m going to bed.” He gathered a heap of bearskins and made a bed for himself in the opp
osite corner. He couldn’t sleep,
just lay there thinking how stupid he’d just been with Lini, practically unmanning him with his words. He should never have started this
relationship,
it had just brought disaster to the one he loved.

Mildrith was too tired to sleep with her husband on the itchy bearskins, so she got into bed with Lini. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t all slept together other nights. He was half asleep, lying on his back
,
so she cuddled up to him.

“This is nice,” she mumbled into his shoulder after a little while.

“One problem though,” he whispered back.

“What?”

He took her hand and put it on his erect cock, groaning as she took hold of it.

“What shall we do about that?” she asked, more awake.

“I’ve got an idea, i
f you li
ke.
”

“Yes, I like.” It was a whi
le since she’d been satisfied. L
ife had been too busy lately.

“I just want to feel like a man again,” he mumbled, rolling on top of her. She was very willing to help him with that.

She gave a small cry as he entered her and ground herself against him, drawing him further inside. She hadn’t realiz
ed how much she’d needed this. S
he’d been too busy being mother to Dalla to take notice of the ache between her legs.

Kjartan wasn’t asleep
and he heard the small, aroused noises they made, their familiar groans and gasps, the giggles, the bed creaks. Had Lini wanted Mildrith all along? Had this been his plan? They were both good people, whereas he was a murderer, a rapist, immoral and violent.
He didn’t deserve them. He gulped. They would make a good couple. Perhaps he should get out of their way.

*
 
*
  *

The next morning, Lini and Kjartan got up at the same time and met awkwardly between the bed and the bearskins.

“Morning,” Lini spoke first.

Kjartan must have heard him fucking his wife, surely. He glanced briefly at the warrior’s eyes
and recognised that expression - the narrow, suspicious eyes -
so looked away, blushing. What had he been thinking last night? Although having sex with Mildrith had made him feel less of a victim, it still wasn’t right.

“Sleep well?” Kjartan’s lip curled scornfully, which Lini hadn’t seen for a while.

“Oh – yes – fine.
Did you?” He still couldn’t look him in the eyes.

Kjartan stomped away without answering and Lini’s heart sank. What
had he done? He’d gone too far
and Kjartan would never forgive him. Everything was so confusing; he didn’t know what to think about anything since the rape.
Having sex with Mildrith had made him feel physically better, but not better in any other way.

*
 
*
  *

Life trundled on for the next few days. The sun rose, the sun set. The sowing of next year’s seeds had begun, and Kjartan went to help with that, despite the continual insults. The grain had to be milled into flo
ur, either at home using a hand-
operated quern or be taken in bulk to Gylfi, the miller, who would put it through his watermill by the stream as it plunged down from the escarpment. Then the flour would be given to the baker Nikolas and his workers to make bread for everyone.