The Pagan's Prize (36 page)

Tears stinging her eyes, Zora stared at him in horror. "You
lied to me!"

His laugh was bitter, but his arrogant gaze held
triumph. "So I did."

Unable to bear to look at him, Zora fled to the tent and
stumbling inside, she collapsed to her knees. Hugging herself tightly, she
rocked back and forth, her anguish so intense that she made no sound as tears
coursed down her face.

"Rurik . . ." she mouthed silently over and
over, wishing by some magic he could hear her and know where she was. Yet even
if he could, would he answer her cries? Unsure, she sank onto the floor in
despair.

***

It was almost dark when Rurik returned to the compound,
his two hundred warriors riding silently behind him, none daring to speak. Even
Arne had held his tongue, which was a wise thing. Rurik was in so black a mood
he was ready to lash out at anyone.

Zora and her accomplices were well on their way to the
first portage and there was nothing he could do to stop them. Grand Prince
Yaroslav had doused that hope, his words still echoing in Rurik's mind.

"I know it's a hard thing for you to accept,
Rurik, but I cannot allow you to leave. Not now. We sail in less than two days
and I need you to command your men. But do not lose heart. Upon our victory,
you will regain your errant wife."

Do not lose
heart.
He didn't have one left. By Odin, if he ever so much as thought he
might trust a woman again, may he fall upon his own sword!

Dismounting in front of his longhouse, Rurik met Arne's
somber gaze.

"See that the men are given a good share of ale,
and extend to them my thanks for aiding in the search."

"As you say, my lord." Arne shifted
uncomfortably in his saddle. "Do you wish my company? I could bring you
some ale—"

"And then what, Arne? We drink ourselves into a
stupor and bemoan the fact that we were both deceived by sea-blue eyes and a
soft, willing manner? I think not. I can do that well enough alone."

"But maybe you shouldn't be alone, my lord—"

"Believe me, friend, there isn't anything more I
want right now."

Rurik turned and entered the longhouse, sighing heavily
as he shut the door. He knew Arne meant well, but he had already taken enough
advice from him about Zora and he could stomach no more. Moving farther into
the main room, he saw that his slaves had seen well to his comfort. A fire
burned brightly in the central hearth and he could smell food, yet he wasn't
surprised that he felt no hunger.

He was thirsty, though, and he made straight for the
table to pour himself a brimming goblet of wine. He downed it and, pouring
another, tossed it back as well. Then he shrugged, and leaving the goblet on
the table, he sat down in a chair near the hearth and rested the wine jug on
his knee.

Why not get good
and drunk?
If he dulled his senses, maybe it wouldn't hurt so damnably that
the gods had seen fit to spite him after all.

He could almost hear them laughing, Loki more loudly
than the rest. That wily god of mischief must surely have fashioned this day's
wretched events! Yet perhaps none were gloating any more than Zora, wherever
she was, for Rurik granting her the perfect opportunity to escape. He couldn't
have done a better job than if he had escorted her to the boat himself and
shoved it from the dock.

Thor, what madness had seized him to think that he
could trust her? She must have been waiting all along for the right moment to
escape, her acquiescence and softening of temper toward him just a part of her
plan. He had been right about women! They were capable of only the foulest treachery.
And he had believed Zora might love

Cursing aloud the twisting pain over his heart, Rurik
took a long draft of wine, almost emptying the jug as he stared unseeing at the
flames.

Until this morning he had never thought that he might
regret his sworn allegiance to Yaroslav. His frustration that his request to
command a ship had been denied was still so acute that even now he was tempted
to disobey the grand prince's orders and strike out after her. It galled him
more than he could express that Zora was traveling the route he and his men
would take in another day's time. The same damned route!

"My lord?"

Muttering an oath against this sudden intrusion, Rurik
glanced up to find Nellwyn standing a few feet away from him. He hadn't even
heard her enter the longhouse.

"If you're looking for your mistress," he
said tightly, "she isn't here."

"I know, my lord, and when I heard you had finally
returned from the city, I came at once to speak with you."

"Speak of what?" Rurik gave a short,
humorless laugh. "If you're wondering how to fill your time now, you'll
have to find yourself some other tasks to keep you busy, Nellwyn, for I cannot
say when your mistress will be back. She's on a boat heading home to her
beloved father and her betrothed, Lord Ivan." This time Rurik drained the
jug, his pain unbearable, then dropping it with a dull thunk to the floor, he
lunged from the chair to fetch another.

"That's why I've come, my lord. To speak about
your wife, not my duties. I don't know what happened today at the market, but I
do know Lady Zora would never have left you for this Ivan."

"And how do you know that?" demanded Rurik,
turning on the slave woman so suddenly that she jumped.

"Because she loves you, my lord! She confided in
me many times over the past few weeks—"

"You believed her?" Inwardly shaken by the
slave woman's emphatic pronouncement, Rurik nonetheless hardened his heart. It
seemed that he and Arne hadn't been the only ones tricked by Zora's guile. "She
deceived you once before, Nellwyn, the night of the fire. Now she's deceived
you again."

"No, she hasn't, my lord, and I would swear to it!
If she didn't care about you, she would have slept through the night like a
babe, knowing that in the morning she would escape from you. But she didn't
sleep at all because she was waiting up for you, waiting and worrying about the
coming battle and what might happen to you. Aye, if she did anything today,
maybe in her mind it was to help you."

"What are you saying, Nellwyn? That my wife fled
the city because she thought by doing so she could somehow protect me? She's
gone to Chernigov, while the battle most likely will be fought to the north.
What good can she do me?"

"Perhaps more than she could have done here in
Novgorod—"

"Enough!" As Rurik's harsh command echoed
around them, Nellwyn's green eyes widened with alarm. "Leave me, woman,
and take your fanciful theories of my wife's actions with you! You've already
overstepped your bounds."

He turned from her and took a draft of wine, expecting
to hear the door close behind her. But when he looked over his shoulder,
Nellwyn was still there, standing her ground, her hands propped at her
thickened waist and her chin raised stubbornly in a manner that reminded him
all too much of Zora.

"You may punish me for this, my lord, but I will
have my say! Your lady confided much in me and from what I have heard, I
believe you love her as she loves you. Yet you're so willing to think the worst
of her, to let your past rule your heart instead of what you can see and feel,
that perhaps you don't deserve her love! Why dare to trust, why dare to put
faith in another when it is so much easier not to?"

The room went silent for a long moment, Nellwyn's
outburst striking Rurik more deeply than he would ever admit. Yet as deeply
felt was his hurt and when he finally faced her, his voice was low with
warning.

"Are you finished?"

"Aye."

"Then you hear me. What I
see
is that my wife is not with me and what I
feel
is that I am a fool. Now leave me, woman!"

Nellwyn did this time, hastening from the room while
Rurik stood there, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. As the door shut with a
thud, he hurled the jug with all his might at the wall, dashing it to
splinters.

Chapter 27

Zora had never known a more miserable five days in her
life, her heartsickness growing. Already they had passed one portage and were
nearing the second, their rapid progress due to favorable winds and that Ivan
and his men never seemed to rest, rowing like demons whenever the sails
slackened.

The boat was longer, too, and not as wide as the one
Rurik had commanded, which to Zora now seemed like months ago; it cut through
the water like a serpent. The only good thing was that Ivan had left her alone,
she sensed as much because she disgusted him in her present state as his concentration
was fixed upon getting them to Chernigov as quickly as possible.

She had overheard him talking with his men about the
scores of warships they had seen in Novgorod docked north of the bridge, and
the flurry of preparations that meant that Grand Prince Yaroslav's forces would
soon be setting sail. She hoped with all her heart that they had left by now,
and that those fearsome ships that she had also glimpsed from the market might
overtake this smaller boat. She imagined that was Ivan's fear since he spent
much of his time in the stern, scanning the distance for any sign of
approaching sails.

"All right, men, let's waste no time!" came
Ivan's impatient command outside the tent, telling Zora that they had reached
the second portage. Yet she didn't move from her pallet, staring at the bucket
that was never far from her side.

At the first portage she had ventured outside to watch
them hoist the vessel onto the log rollers, but seeing the woods again where
Kjell had lost his life had been so painful that she had quickly retreated to
the tent. She had been frightened, too, wondering if another band of marauders
might be lurking nearby, looking to prey on passing ships.

That was reason enough why she had made no escape
attempts. She had no wish to relive that harrowing experience. Nor had she
considered jumping overboard. Her single swimming lesson had hardly left her
with the skills to tackle a river's powerful currents, and the thought that the
water would be many times over her head—

Zora shuddered. As she felt the boat being lifted from
the water followed by a jarring thunk as it was settled upon the logs, her mind
raced ahead to when they would leave the river behind to cross overland to
Chernigov.

Then
she
would attempt to escape, for she had no intention of returning to her father's
city with Ivan. She would take refuge at a church or with a peasant family and
wait for Grand Prince Yaroslav's forces to march past, then find Rurik. He
would probably want to send her back to Novgorod, but maybe he might keep her
with him. She could hope . . .

"That's it, men, we're almost there, now ease her
back into the— By God, men, draw your arms! Behind you! Look behind you!"

Zora sat bolt upright, her hand flying to her breast as
a horrifying shriek split the air, then another. It sounded as if the hounds of
hell had been loosed upon them. She had never heard such a terrible wolfish
howling, which almost drowned out the telltale clashing of swords.

Holy Mother protect them, they were under attack! Yet
the boat was still moving and she realized it must have already been shoved
back into the water. Had Ivan or any of his men made it aboard?

She screamed when an arrow suddenly came splicing
through the tent wall to embed in the bucket, and she hesitated no more.
Dashing outside, she somehow retained the presence of mind to keep her head
down, and peering over the railing, she thought she was going to be sick all
over herself.

Ivan and what was left of his men were surrounded by a
horde of yowling attackers, outnumbered by more than four to one. As swords and
battleaxes flashed in the waning sunlight, another of his warriors falling in a
spray of blood, Zora saw Ivan glance toward the drifting boat as if he was
searching for her. Then he suddenly collapsed to his knees, an axe blow felling
him from behind. Zora closed her eyes, unable to watch anymore.

"Oh, God . . ." she breathed, having no idea
what she should do. "Oh, God, please help me. . ."

Wild, triumphant shouts caused her to lift her head and
she gazed in horror at the grisly dance upon the shore. Dismembered arms and
legs were being paraded upon spears like trophies, then a severed head was
tossed from one sword onto another . . . a head with dark brown hair just like
Ivan's—

"No . . . oh, no," she murmured, fear
tightening like cold fingers around her throat. She watched in disbelief as ten
or twelve marauders broke away from the group and began to run along the
riverbank . . . running hard as if they wanted to catch up with the boat that
Zora realized to her mounting horror was drifting back toward their side of the
shore.

It was the shock she needed. Scrambling on hands and
knees to the other side of the boat, Zora ripped her tunic from hem to thigh
with hands shaking so badly that she could barely use them. Then, taking care
to use the tent as cover, she climbed over the railing at a point where she
hoped they couldn't see her and eased herself into the water.

It was so cold and deep, her fear almost overwhelmed
her, but hearing the attackers' raucous shouts growing louder and their
splashing as they rushed into the river, she willed herself to let go. As the
boat floated away from her, she drew as much air into her lungs as she could
hold and then dived beneath the surface, using her arms and legs as Rurik had
taught her to propel herself downstream.

Fortunately, the currents were strong and that aided
her efforts, and swimming until she was sure her lungs were going to burst, she
finally came up for air. To her relief, the marauders looked like little
figures upon the distant shoreline, they were that far away. Filling her lungs
again, she lowered her head beneath the surface and let the currents carry her
farther away.