Authors: Miriam Minger
Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Viking, #Medieval, #General, #Historical Fiction, #Romance, #Historical Romance
Dusk had fallen by the time Zora dared to consider
stopping but she pushed herself onward, sometimes floating on her back to save
her strength. She didn't head for the opposite shoreline until it was
pitch-dark. With her exhaustion so intense that she feared she might drown
before she got there, only by sheer force of will was she able to keep herself
calm and her arms and legs moving.
When her feet touched bottom she began to weep with
relief, and pulling herself from the water, she crawled into the deep grass and
collapsed. She was so weak that her sobs were no more than whimpers, and soon
even these grew silent as she closed her eyes against the starry sky.
***
"The princess, my lord?"
"Aye, I met her only once but you never forget
such a face. No wonder my son was willing to risk his life for her, and Rurik
Sigurdson to give up his vow and marry her. It's a good thing she didn't crawl
so far into the grass that we would have missed her."
"A good thing, too, that we found her before
whoever it was that slaughtered those poor bastards upstream."
"Aye, wandering thieves, most likely. Stripped the
dead and the boat, right down to the sails. It's a miracle the wench escaped .
. . though she might wish otherwise when she's back with her husband. I've
never seen Rurik in so foul a mood as when we sailed from Novgorod."
"That's true enough, my lord, but look, she's
waking up."
Zora moaned softly, lifting her hand to shade her eyes
from the bright sunlight. Still half in her dream, she could have sworn she had
heard someone say Rurik's name, but that couldn't be possible
"Lady Zora?"
She froze, scarcely breathing. Alert now and
remembering all too suddenly where she was, the next thing she thought was how
absurd that in the middle of nowhere, someone would know her name.
Slowly lowering her hand, she squinted against the
light, making out two men who were staring down at her. One she didn't know,
but the other . . .
"Oh . . . !" She was swept up into Thordar
the Strong's massive arms at almost the same instant she recognized him, her
head spinning from the sudden movement. As he turned around, she gaped at the
seventy-foot warship moored along the shoreline, fifty armed warriors staring
back at her.
"One of my sharp-eyed men spied you lying in the
grass," Thordar explained, anticipating her question as he waded into the
water. "You're a fortunate young woman to have lived to tell what happened
to your friends."
Before Zora could reply, she was lifted into waiting
arms and deposited on deck, then Thordar and his companion heaved themselves
aboard. As orders were given to lower all oars and push off from the bank,
Thordar led her to a rowing bench where he gestured for her to sit. But she
remained rooted where she stood, noticing for the first time that farther out
in the river another warship was passing them, a long line of ships following
as far as she could see.
Grand Prince Yaroslav's army! Surely it couldn't be any
later than midmorning, which meant that they had been less than a day's journey
behind Ivan's boat, probably advancing upon them with each mile. If only they
had come faster, Ivan and his men might still be alive—
So he could then fight Rurik to the death? Zora
remembered, shivering. She would never have wished such a violent end upon
anyone, yet she couldn't deny that she was relieved Rurik had one less enemy to
face.
She sank upon the bench. Simply recalling the events of
the past day made her knees feel weak. Or was it because she knew that she
would soon see Rurik again?
"Where is my husband?" she asked.
Thordar watched her closely. "Probably not to the
second portage. There are many ships, Lady Zora. I'm only glad that we came
upon the trail first and buried what was left of the dead. It wouldn't have
been a welcome sight for a man anxious about his wife. What happened?"
"We were attacked." Zora shuddered, finding
it difficult even to speak about it. "When they were pushing the boat back
into the water. If I hadn't been on board . . ."
She couldn't finish, her memories still horribly vivid
of what had almost happened to her during that first attack when Kjell was
killed and Rurik had saved her just in time. And here she was talking with
Kjell's father! Yet Thordar didn't seem half so forbidding now, despite his
shaved scalp and the topknot that lent him the fierce look of a steppe nomad.
"Forgive me," he said, clearly sensing her
disquiet. "You owe me no explanations. We'll be stopping in Smolensk
within a few hours for food and supplies. You'll have to wait for your husband's
ship, but you'll be reunited with him there."
Mere hours!
Zora could hardly believe it. Yet she felt a sudden surge of nervousness. She
could imagine too well what Rurik must think of her, and there was only one
thing she could do to remedy it. Surely he would believe her. He had to!
"You have my thanks, Lord Thordar," Zora said
softly, his eyes at this moment reminding her so much of Kjell's. "I speak
also for my husband."
"For your sake, I hope that is true," the
warrior answered. Heaving a sigh, he walked away.
***
"She awaits you in that storehouse, Rurik. And now
since my ships are loaded, my forces must sail. We'll meet again in Liubech."
Rurik nodded at Thordar, his throat so tight that he
could scarcely bring himself to speak. He had never known such a moment as when
the warrior had met his ship to tell him that Zora was found, and what had
happened to the men who had helped her escape. He knew, too, that they hadn't
been monks but fighting men, giving rise to more questions for which he would
soon demand answers.
"She wanted to wait for you on the wharf,"
added Thordar as he turned to go, "but I thought it better this way . . ."
"So you were right," Rurik gritted out,
looking from the nearby door to the warrior's somber face. "My thanks,
friend." They clasped wrists and then Thordar was gone, striding back to
the docks where at least fifty warships were moored.
Still more vessels were arriving at the crowded wharf
while others, loaded with fresh cooked meat and supplies, were heading
downriver on the second leg of their journey, no longer in single formation but
four or five abreast upon the great Dnieper River. Soon Rurik's six ships would
be loaded and ready to sail, but first he must attend to Zora. With his jaw
clenched so hard that it hurt, he opened the door to the storehouse and stepped
inside, grimacing at the acrid smell of pickling brine.
It took him an instant to adjust to the hazy lamplight.
He spied her sitting upon a barrel, her eyes as wide as he had ever seen them,
her hands clasped nervously in her lap. His relief was stabbing and immediate,
yet he forced himself to think not of how close he had come to losing her but
of how she had betrayed him.
"Thordar told me what little you shared with him,
wife," he said tersely, wasting no time on a greeting. "Now I want
your explanation."
Zora shivered, Rurik's tone as cold and forbidding as
his gaze. It was just as bad as she had feared, maybe worse. She rose, her legs
half asleep from sitting so long, and nervously smoothed the linen tunic
Thordar had bought for her.
"I—I know what you must be thinking, Rurik . . .
that I purposely deceived you, but it's not as it may seem. If it hadn't been
for the lies Ivan told me—"
"Ivan? Your betrothed?"
Rurik had interrupted her so harshly that Zora felt as
if her heart had leapt to pound in her throat.
"Y-yes. He and eight of his men came disguised as
monks to rescue me. He found me in the market and convinced me to leave with
him—"
"Convinced you?" Rurik cut in again, his fury
boiling all the hotter. How quickly and expertly she was spinning her tale, no
doubt fearing his wrath as well she should! "I imagine that you rejoiced
at the chance, Princess."
"No, that's not true!" she blurted, taking a
few steps toward him. "I told Ivan that I wanted to stay with you, but he
said that if I went with him I would be able to plead for your life if you were
captured in battle. I was so worried about you, Rurik, and . . . and it made
sense. I couldn't have done anything to help you if I had stayed in Novgorod!
It was only later when Ivan admitted he had lied to me, that he planned to kill
you . . ." She stopped, her expression stricken. "You don't believe
me, do you?"
"That it was Ivan, yes, for Thordar told me the
dead men had not been clergy, but warriors," Rurik replied, steeling his
heart against her no matter that her words echoed what Nellwyn had told him
days ago. There could be an explanation easily enough for that. Leave it to his
cunning wife to fill her slave woman's head with the same lies just to add
credence to her tale!
"But what of the rest?" she asked
plaintively. "I swear on my life that it is true."
"You also swore to me once that you wouldn't stop
trying to escape until you were free of me." Rurik's bitterness almost
choked him.
"That was weeks ago!" she countered, her eyes
pleading with him. "How could I have said anything different? I didn't
know you for the man that you are. I didn't love you then, but I love you now,
Rurik! I love you!"
Rurik suddenly felt as if everything had gone very
still inside him, what he had yearned for so long to hear ringing in his ears.
By Odin, he wanted to believe her, yet how could he? She had left him!
"I was going to tell you in the market," Zora
rushed on, hope flaring that she might have finally reached him. "I
thought you might come there to meet me. I wanted so much to prove to you that
you could trust me, Rurik, and then Ivan—"
"Persuaded you within a moment's time to leave
your beloved home and husband," he interrupted sarcastically, his
expression as hard as granite. "Spare me your woman's ploy, Zora. If you
love anything, it was only the thought of freedom. And don't tell me next that
you're not grieving for Ivan, because I don't want to hear it."
"I'm not grieving!" Desperation seized Zora
as she moved closer. "How could I mourn someone who wanted to kill the man
I love? Who threatened to drown my baby at the moment of its birth?"
Stunned, Rurik stared at her. "A babe?"
"Yes. I didn't realize it until I became sick on
the river. I was miserable."
"I imagine you were," Rurik muttered though
deeply shaken. Days ago, such news might have completed his happiness, but now
it only heightened his pain. "You must have been wretched knowing you
carried my child, not only for your sake but for Ivan's."
"No, you're wrong!"
"I'm right, Zora, so spare me your denials! At
least now I know you can produce heirs. I was beginning to wonder how long it
would take before you'd be breeding and I could return to my concubines, but I
see that once we're home in Novgorod, my life will finally be as it was before
I wed!"
Incredulous, Zora's eyes filled with tears. How could
he be so blind? How could he say such terrible things? Then another, more
chilling thought struck her.
Perhaps she had been the fool all along to believe it
might be possible that he loved her. If he cared, he would never treat her this
cruelly. Surely he could see that she was telling him the truth.
"Do you love me, Rurik?" she demanded, her
voice hoarse with pain. By God, she would know! "Do you love me?"
He didn't answer for the longest time, but when he
finally spoke, her heart sank, his tone as biting as the smell in the room.
"I told you once before that the word holds no
meaning for me, Princess, and nothing has changed. You've become confused by
lust."
"No . . ." Zora breathed, shaking her head. "No!"
Rushing at him so suddenly that she caught him by surprise, she struck him
across the face with such force that her palm stung, but she didn't care. Nor
did she care when he grabbed her by the wrists and shook her hard. "You
deceived me!" she cried, anguished tears coursing down her face. "You
put trust in me . . . led me to think . . . Monster! You hard, unfeeling—"
"Pagan? Brute? Barbarian?" he finished for
her as he swept her fighting and kicking into his arms. "We've come full
circle, haven't we, wife? Yet if anyone here has been deceived, it was me and
not you!"
"Release me!" Zora demanded through her
wracking sobs, her world crumbling around her. How could she ever have thought
she could warm this man's cold heart? Fool!
"Release you?" mocked Rurik, easily subduing
her struggles by holding her so tightly that she couldn't move. "I should
send you under guarded escort back to Novgorod but I'm not going to let you out
of my sight. I'll not grant you another opportunity to escape me, Princess. I've
learned my lesson too well."
As Rurik kicked open the storehouse door so violently
that it flew with the splitting of wood from its hinges, Zora knew then that he
was taking her with him. And despite never having felt so desolate, her
heartache a raw bleeding wound, she could not deny that she
wanted
to be with him even as she swore
that she would never forgive him for his cruelty. God help her, that made her
twice the fool.
Zora refused to speak to Rurik for the entire journey
to Liubech, turning her face away from him whenever he addressed her. At first
it hadn't seemed to affect him, but by her third day of silence, he could not
hide his displeasure, his angry scowl there for everyone to see.
Yet if he had wanted to rail at her, it was impossible
on the warship that lacked any privacy, crowded as it was with fifty odd
warriors, weapons, and all manner of provisions. She had no tent where they
could be alone either, only an open lean-to thrown together with blankets where
she slept while everyone else, including Rurik, took shifts sleeping under the
stars.