Ragnar & the Slave Girls (Ragnar the Dane) (12 page)

“
What’s happening?” Saehild asked Ljotr.

“
He is marking them with Aegir’s Helm and the sign of Fenrir. She is directing the power of Fenrir into each symbol.”

“
What are those things?”

“
Come and see.” He led her over to the group and they paused to let her watch.

The object the blacksmith pressed to each man’s arm was a piece of lead, with an eight-legged symbol carved into it. The legs sprouted from a circle containing a wolf’s head.

Ljotr rolled up his sleeve to reveal an identical sign on his shoulder, which looked established instead of new and sore like the other men’s.

“
Why do you all have that?”

“
It’s to make us part of the group. If you’re marked, you're free and no one can make you go back to your former life.”

“
Does it hurt?”

“
A little. You’re strong. It would be nothing to you.”

“
I’ll be next after they’ve finished him.” She grinned.

The villagers in Hallby wore tattoos but nothing like this. She would be the first, but the best thing was that no one in the village would know. Her family and friends thought of her as the boring wife of a boring warrior, but she kept this part of her life secret. If only she could live like this all the time.

She joined the men and soon reached the head of the line. The sorceress smiled at her and began the incantation, while the blacksmith pressed the lead to Saehild’s arm at the correct moment. A suggestive groan was forced from her lips. The man’s eyes widened and he pressed the lead harder onto her.

“
Tado, enough!” snapped the sorceress and he pulled it off.

Saehild glanced at Ljotr's inscrutable expression. Jealousy? Pride? Arousal? He gave his usual teeth-baring smile, even more intense than usual.

“
Like it?” said Tado, peering at the mark. “It’s one of our best yet.”

“
Yes. I do.” The image seemed to fit on her shoulder and the wolf’s expression changed as she moved her arm. She liked it there - it suited her.

*  *  *

“
Men!” barked Steinar at the training ground that afternoon. “We must help the English in their time of need.”

“
Why?” asked a Huskarl. “What have they ever done for us?”

Steinar ignored him as thunder rumbled in the distance.

“
They are being slaughtered by one or more people -”

“
Or creatures,” interrupted another. “Why don’t they hear or see the murderers? They must be demons.”

The air filled with murmurs of agreement as a light warm summer rain began to fall.

“
They are not demons,” snapped Steinar. “We must -”

“
It’s women’s magic,” muttered someone. The thunder grew closer.

“
The gods are angry with the English,” said another.

“
We’ll draw their wrath if we interfere.”

Steinar exchanged impatient glances with Bjarni. “So, are you all cowards?” he roared. “Don’t you want to fight and perhaps die a glorious death defending the innocent?”

The men avoided his glare and kicked at the wet grass.

“
Call yourself Danes? Afraid to take on men in disguise? The wolf’s head mask proves that. They are men, not monsters.”

More muttering in the ranks.

“
We’re the innocent ones,” said Solmund. “The English have brought down the vengeance of the gods. We don’t want to be punished, too.”

Murmurs of agreement.

“
But the English are Christians,” Bjarni pointed out. “Their God doesn’t punish them. I know because my wife is English.”

Disparaging laughter greeted his speech.

“
A god who doesn’t punish them?” queried someone.

“
I don’t believe that for a moment,” jeered another.

“
Better to stick to our own beliefs.”

“
This is hopeless,” whispered Bjarni to Steinar, who rolled his eye at him, his damaged eye hidden by the patch, of course.

“
I’m disappointed in you!” Steinar boomed at the Huskarls. “You call yourself warriors?”

“
That’s exactly it,” replied Solmund. “We are warriors of the Jarl, not the English.”

The air became thick with cheers of assent. The Huskarls began to disperse, patting each other on the back and agreeing as the rain grew heavier.

“
Ragnar seems to think he knows who’s behind all the murders,” said Bjarni to Steinar. “He’s probably looking for him now.”

“
Think he’ll need help?” The light of battle grew in the commander’s eye.

“
Don’t know. I’m sure he’ll tell us if he does.”

*  *  *

In the cave, Kjartan hurried around gathering all his possessions and getting ready to leave. Then a wolf howled outside, making him jump. A wolf? In daylight? He tiptoed to the cave entrance to investigate.

He couldn’t see a wolf, but noticed something like wolf ears behind a pile of rocks, so he drew his sword and cautiously approached.

*  *  *

“
He’s probably gone," puffed Aelfwyn. "He promised he would.”

Even though she wasn’t carrying Alvi, she still couldn’t keep up with her husband as he strode past the river to reach the caves. Fortunately the storm had passed over, but the stones were still wet, making it even harder for her to match his pace.

“
I can’t believe you trusted him. You still haven’t told me how you know he isn’t the murderer. He could have allies who are doing the killing. He could be the leader.”

“
I don’t think so. I’ve got a feeling.”

“
Is this one of your womanly intuitions?” They had now reached the hills where the caves were, so he stopped walking and half smiled down at her.

“
Yes.” She grinned back, waving her hands in a fake mystical way.

He sighed. “I can never be cross with you.”

A metallic clang made them jump and they flattened themselves against the rock.

Ragnar peered round the edge.

“
I knew it!” he exclaimed, and strode towards the noise.

Kjartan sat on a large stone in the clearing between the rocks, examining a wolf’s head fashioned in the shape of a mask in one hand, thoughtfully tapping his sword against the rock with the other.

“
So, you’re part of the gang?” Ragnar grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up to standing.

“
What?”

“
Don’t bother denying it.” He indicated the wolf mask.

“
I just found this here!”

“
I’m not as trusting as my wife.”

Ragnar pushed Kjartan to the ground and raised his sword, but Kjartan kicked his leg, making him hop in pain and allowing the white-blond Dane to scramble up. But before they could start fighting, Aelfwyn screamed and pointed behind them. Several men in wolf masks ran out of an opening in the hillside, brandishing a motley collection of weapons, shouting incoherent threats. Their footsteps clattered on the hard rock like an army on the attack. They surrounded the two Danes, and one grabbed Aelfwyn.

“
See!” shouted Kjartan. “I’m not one of them!”

The wolf men didn’t speak, just moving as one to attack the resisting Kjartan and Ragnar, who fought as hard as they could, with no success. Four men dragged each of them into the cave entrance.

One concentrated on Aelfwyn, even though she struggled too. He sniffed at her face and she quailed at the sensation of being so close to such a strange man-beast.

“
Pretty,” he said, eyeing her body. Then he slung her over his shoulder and carried her off in the same direction as the others.

*  *  *

Ragnar resisted the wolf men so violently they had to knock him out to take him away. Aelfwyn screamed and screamed, and Kjartan fought against his bonds with all the strength he could muster, but it didn’t make any difference. They still carried Ragnar away.

“
Where are they taking him?” demanded Kjartan of the guard.

“
We haven’t had luck lately. The gods need a sacrifice, and he’s different to the rest of you Danes.”

Aelfwyn burst into sobs, too terrified to hide her feelings.

“
Then we’ll take more women and give them children, they’ll grow up in our family, make a huge army and we’ll be invincible.” The light of madness in his eyes showed through the wolf’s head mask.

At the mention of babies, Aelfwyn whimpered. Her breasts began leaking milk for Alvi, who she might never see again.

The wolf man turned to her.

“
You bring forth milk? You have a baby? Ah, you will be a good fertile woman for us.”

She shuddered, wishing she could prevent the milk pumping out. It soaked her dress and ran down her ribs.

“
It shouldn’t go to waste in the meantime.” He ripped off his wolf mask, sprang across to her and ripped her dress at the neck, suckling at her breast, groaning as he did so, licking and biting and slobbering, pressing against her. She tried to back away but he clasped her to him.

“
Get off her!” Kjartan snarled, and his efforts to escape redoubled. At last he managed to break his bonds and leapt towards Aelfwyn’s attacker. Strangling him until he let go of her, he then pushed him away with all his might. The wolf man stumbled and fell against the rocky wall, hitting his head and slumping down.

Kjartan watched to make sure he didn’t get up again, then turned to the hysterical Aelfwyn and worked on loosening her bonds. She made such a terrified, senseless burbling noise it scared him, so he drew her dress back over her bruised breasts and put his arms round her.

“
He took my milk - he bit me - he would've raped me ...” she whimpered into his chest.

“
Sh-sh-it’s alright, I’m here,” he soothed, stroking her hair. “Just let me free you.”

“
Don’t let me go yet, please. Please just hold me.” She shook so violently he couldn't undo her bonds anyway, so he did as she asked, still stroking her hair and back.

She looked up into his eyes and even though he tried not to, he felt such a surge of lust he trembled with it, and kissed her.

Moved by how gentle he could be - unlike all the other times he’d molested her - she felt comforted being held and kissed after the smelly, rough wolf man biting her breasts, clawing at her body and pressing his hardness against her. For once, Kjartan wasn’t pressing anything against her except his lips. She gave into the feeling, her head starting to spin.

But he tasted different, and his beard was less tickly than Ragnar’s, and she gently pushed him away.

“
Sorry,” he said. “You know I’ve always liked you.” He set to work on the rope tying her wrists. “And sorry about all those other times I mistreated you. I’m just depraved.”

“
Thank you. You’re not so bad.”

*  *  *

“
Where’s Ragnar this afternoon?” asked Bjarni of Steinar. “Isn’t he on duty?”

“
Haven’t seen him since this morning. When did you last see him?”

“
Er - the same.”

Not wanting to talk about the stew and tunic incident, Bjarni changed the subject.

“
What are they doing now?” He indicated the novice Huskarls.

Steinar reeled off a list of warm-ups, exercises and duties, but Bjarni didn’t listen, too busy thinking about the whereabouts of his best friend.

“
Can you let me go for a while? I have to check Ragnar's house again. I’ll be back to supervise planting.”

The commander nodded, so Bjarni strode off.

Knocking on the door, he waited for an answer to no avail. He tried the door and it didn’t open, so he stood for a while, wondering what to do.

“
Hallo.”

Aelfwyn’s cousin Gytha, her own baby strapped to her chest, held a sleeping Alvi too. Her face was red with the effort of carrying them in the warm weather.

“
Where are they? Aelfwyn asked me to look after him hours ago, then she never came back. I can’t give him milk forever.”

“
Hm. Can you keep him for a bit longer? I'll find out where they are, don't worry.”

“
You - you don’t think they’re inside do you? D-dead?” Her face paled.