Viking: Legends of the North: A Limited Edition Boxed Set (84 page)

“It could belong to anyone,” he said almost to himself. “A tunic, a mantle…of whoever was there last.” He brought the linen closer to inspect it further. “This tells me noth—”

Rurik stopped, suddenly catching the unmistakable citrusy fragrance of bergamot and cedar emanating from the cloth. He knew only one woman who wore such a perfume. Semirah. And there would have been no reason for her to be in that storehouse unless…

“Take another man with you and find Semirah, then bring her to me,” ordered Rurik, clenching the linen in his fist. “Go!”

As the warrior hastened away, Rurik focused his attention upon the fire, anything to temper the rage that was building inside him. A few drops of rain hit his face, a clap of thunder booming overhead. He looked up to the sky as the low-hanging clouds seemed to open and a steady downpour began in earnest.

Shouts of thanks erupted as with one resounding voice. Rurik knew that the hall and his longhouse were saved. But what of Zora, by God? Was she still in the compound or somewhere in the surrounding forest? The vast tracts of woodland were dangerous at best to even those who knew the terrain, but to a young woman raised in a palace with no knowledge of the wild and its creatures?

Seized by impatience, Rurik could not wait for his warriors to bring Semirah to him. As the rain became a deluge, soon soaking him to the skin, he strode past blackened, smoldering ruins in the direction of his concubine’s longhouse only to spy her resisting the men he had sent to fetch her. Yet when Semirah saw him approaching, she stopped her struggles and drew herself up, her gaze unwavering and her chin held high despite the rain lashing at her face.

“This was found at a storehouse known by only a few to have a tunnel.” Rurik thrust the telltale fragment of linen toward her. “It belongs to you, woman, and my wife is missing! What say you? Did you have a hand in her escape?”

She shook her head. “I know nothing of your precious wife.”

Hearing the bitterness in Semirah’s voice, Rurik said simply, “You lie.”

“And you are a fool to choose that blue-eyed, sallow-faced cow over Semirah!”

Rurik had never thought to strike a woman but at that moment he came very close. Yet his fury was restrained by pity, for he knew that it was his own disinterest that had provoked the woman. He knew, too, that he would have to pass judgment upon her for her treachery, but for now that would have to wait. He didn’t want to think what he might do to her if anything happened to Zora.

“The fire, Semirah. Was that a diversion for your actions?” he demanded.

Her resentful glare was answer enough.

“Escort this woman back to her dwelling and guard her well,” he ordered. “Don’t let her out of your sight.”

“Aye, my lord.”

Rurik barely heard the reply, for he was already racing back to his steed. Roaring out names of men to join him, warriors who knew the surrounding forest well, he had mounted by the time they had assembled around him.

“My wife has fled the compound through the tunnel. We will ride to where it ends and, if need be, branch out. She can’t have gone far.”

Wheeling his stallion around in a spray of mud, Rurik didn’t wait for them to mount their horses. They knew the way. His only thought was to find Zora, before something else did.

Zora gasped as her outstretched palm hit a planked wall, and laughing with nervous relief, she fumbled along the low ceiling for a latch. It took some doing but she finally found it and with all her strength she pushed up. The trapdoor was heavier than she had imagined, but refreshed by the rain pelting her face and a stiff breeze whistling into the tunnel, she was able to shove it backward.

“Hello?”

No greeting came. And there was no horse or guide in sight, at least not from what she could tell standing in the tunnel. Thinking that the man must be waiting for her farther back in the trees, she tossed out her bags and then hoisted herself up.

“Is anyone there?” The steady plunk of rain hitting the earth and branches creaking in the strong wind was her only answer.

Sighing, Zora lowered the trapdoor and re-covered it with wet clumps of moss and pine needles. Then she bent to pick up her bags. Straightening, she winced as something hard landed upon her foot. “Ouch!”

When she heard several more thuds, she realized that the bag Semirah had given her must have come open for it was lighter in her hand. Kneeling to retrieve her gold, Zora found nothing but small rocks at her feet.

“What? Why…she lied to me!”

Hugging her damp cloak to her body, Zora looked around her nervously, the dense forest suddenly grown menacing in the dark. No gold grivna…no horse and no guide. Damn that Khazar woman! How did Semirah expect her to find her way to Novgorod? The tunnel had been so long, Zora had no idea in which direction lay Rurik’s compound, let alone her uncle’s city.

Hearing a branch snap somewhere behind her, Zora gasped and spun. Might there be marauding thieves in these woods like there had been at the portage? And surely wild beasts had to abound in this vast northern forest, bears and wolves…

“Oh, no, that’s it,” Zora breathed in horror. Semirah had never intended for her to make it back safely to Chernigov; she wanted something terrible to happen to her out here! Then she would be rid of her forever.

No, I mustn’t panic
, Zora told herself firmly, clutching the remaining bag to her breast. She still had the jeweled circlet and her wedding ring, and she had made it this far. She could still escape.

All she had to do was find her way back to the compound and then skirt along the clearing to the road. Then once she was in Novgorod, she would find some shrewd merchant willing to risk the perils of a journey to Chernigov not only for the gold she would give him but for the vast reward that would be his upon her safe return—

A sudden rustling too near for comfort caused Zora to jump, but before she had a chance to run, she was collared roughly from behind.

“What have we here?” came a harsh guttural voice as Zora gasped in terror. Her captor held her so tightly around the neck that she couldn’t even turn her head to catch a glimpse of him. “I’m out hunting for a little supper and snare a pretty forest sprite instead. You’re a tempting one, wench. Wait till the rest of the lads get a look at you.”

“Let…let me go!” Zora rasped, scarcely able to breathe for the pressure of her captor’s arm against her windpipe. Clawing frantically at his sodden sleeve, she fought the swamping fear that was threatening to overwhelm her. “My husband is Lord Rurik of Novgorod! He will kill you if you hurt me!”

“Nay, wench, the wife to a great lord would never be alone in these woods,” he scoffed. To Zora’s horror, his hand strayed beneath her cloak to squeeze her breast. “She would know that thieves and cutthroats abound, along with hungry beasts on the prowl for a tender bit of flesh—”

“No! Stop!” Tears smarted Zora’s eyes as she struggled against him with all her might. “I have a gold circlet I could give you if you would just leave me alone…and…and my wedding ring! I dropped the bag when you grabbed me, but I know we could find it—”

“Aye, let’s get down on our hands and knees, wench, and see what we can find.”

As he began to push her to the ground, Zora began to scream wildly, blindly, kicking her legs and twisting in her captor’s grip so desperately that she was hardly aware of it when she was swept up into his arms.

“Let this be a lesson to you, wife, when next you think of fleeing from your home and husband. If such a man as I pretended to be had found you, no amount of kicking or screaming would have saved you.”

“Rurik!” Zora had never thought that she could be so glad to see him, and she almost threw her arms around his neck. Yet she was just as swiftly shaken by outrage that he would frighten her so cruelly, and on purpose. She was about to let him know exactly what she thought of him when a host of warriors suddenly came riding through the trees, their smoking torches lighting up the surrounding forest.

“Lord Rurik, we heard screaming—”

“My wife is well, men, just startled.”

Startled?
Bristling again, Zora nonetheless decided to hold her tongue when she met Rurik’s eyes. His gaze was hard, his expression even harder.

“Come, wife. It is time you see the damage you have caused from this night’s work.”

Realizing that Rurik was referring to the fire, Zora felt a lump of apprehension in her throat as he strode with her to his horse, which had come trotting from the trees at his low whistle.

“I…I didn’t set it—”

“You might as well have. Semirah wouldn’t have committed such an act if you hadn’t given her encouragement.”

No wonder Rurik had known where to find her!
Zora thought, astonished. “How did you learn that it was Semirah…?”

“Her own carelessness,” he answered in a grim voice. “And if you haven’t discerned it already, wife, there was treachery behind her willingness to help you. She knew the dangers you would face. It is my belief that she hoped you would become food for wolves, and for that I cannot forgive her.”

Rurik said no more as he lifted her to the saddle and from the tight clenching of his jaw when he mounted behind her, Zora could tell that his mood was black indeed.

As they set off with his men at a thundering pace through the woods, the rain becoming a cold drizzle, she wondered what Rurik had meant from his ominous statement. Yet she didn’t dare to think that he might have said it because he cared about her, no matter how fiercely he held her, his cheek against her wet hair.

As they rode through the gates, Zora had never known such guilt when she saw the damage, a row of still smoldering ruins, all that was left of ten longhouses.

“I never intended…” she began, but one look at Rurik’s dark expression was enough to silence her.

“Fortunately no one was hurt,” he informed her as he slowed their mount to a walk, “but there are families tonight without their homes and belongings. The hall and my own longhouse would have been next if the rain hadn’t come.”

Zora wisely held her tongue, the strong smell of charred timber making her stomach twist. What could she say? That she was sorry about the fire? She doubted Rurik would accept her apology. Yet at least she could offer part of her own dwelling as temporary quarters for one of those unlucky families. It might help to make amends and soothe her sense of blame.

“The main room of my longhouse is large, Rurik. I’m sure that it could sleep six people—”

“And what of your bedchamber?” His arm tightened like a vise around her waist. “Perhaps four more?”

“I…I suppose, but where will I…” She swallowed uncomfortably, recalling all too well his unwanted summons. “I mean, you must have a lot to do tonight because of the fire—”

“No more than a few orders will handle,” he cut in harshly. “The first one will be that all of your things be brought to my longhouse. Until new housing is built for the people your actions so callously displaced, you’ll be staying with me.”

Zora was stunned. “But…but what of your other women? Surely such an arrangement will only displease—”

“They have no say in the matter, nor do you. The decision has been made.”

This last statement was delivered so resolutely that Zora knew no amount of argument would sway him. As Rurik deposited her in front of his longhouse, he gave commands to some of his warriors who reined in their exhausted steeds behind him.

“See that my wife is well guarded and remember, men, she likes to stray, especially through windows. I will return shortly.” Then to Zora he said, “Go inside, Princess, and make yourself comfortable. I will send Nellwyn to attend to you needs.”

Zora stared at him, trapped. Rurik had told her that outside the compound lurked every manner of danger, yet at this moment, from the look in his eyes that appeared black and glittering in the hazy torchlight, she feared him more. She had the most unsettling notion that he was soon to devour her more hungrily than any beast.

“I said go inside, Zora. Or shall I dismount and carry you myself over the threshold?”

She didn’t hesitate but turned and hastened through the door held open for her by a somber-faced warrior. Grateful when it closed behind her, blocking Rurik from her sight, she leaned against the intricately carved doorjamb and pressed her hand over her heart. It couldn’t have been beating any faster, like a rabbit’s in a snare.