The Viking’s Captive Princess Page 13

  ‘That stone can do all that?’

  ‘How do you think the Viken crossed the open ocean to Lindisfarne? To sail in summertime, when the sun never sets, you need to navigate by the sun. This crystal allowed me to. Here, you look at the sun.’

  Ivar held out the wondrous stone. Thyre gazed through and the world suddenly took on a blue tinge. She handed the stone back with a shaking hand. ‘I could almost think it was magic.’

  ‘Not magic, skill. It is where the beam falls on this board. One without the other is useless.’

  Thyre looked out at the vast expanse of water. She had to hope for everyone’s sake that Ivar knew what he was doing.

  ‘But Ragnfast…needs to know what happened here.’

  ‘Your stepfather is wily. One boat will not harm him. Those men are leaderless, Thyre. Do you think they have the stomach to go against a jaarl, one of the more important jaarls in the kingdom? They will return to Sigmund’s lair and lick their wounds. They might petition the king, but it will be sorted in the Storting, rather than by a raid. It is what would happen in Viken.’

  ‘I suppose you are right.’ Thyre shifted slightly and a fresh wave of pain washed through her shoulder. She was totally dependent on his leading this boat to safety. But after that, she would do everything in her power to make sure that Ragnfast learnt of the danger. ‘I feel responsible.’

  ‘You did not cause those ships to attack us.’

  She regarded the bruised and battered men and then glanced up at his chiselled face and knew she had to confess. ‘I lit the bonfire. The second one so that neither you nor Ragnfast would guess. Sigmund was supposed to sail once he saw the bonfire. I calculated it would take him two days. If you broke your word, then we would need help.’

  ‘Sigmund came from the west, Thyre. Your fire did nothing.’ He gave a crooked smile. ‘But it confirms that you are a lady to be reckoned with. You think rather than reacting like most women.’

  ‘You are not angry?’

  ‘You saved every man’s life on this boat, Thyre. Think on that. Whether you want it or not, you are a Viken now.’

  She turned her head and saw the affirmation in the remaining Vikens’ faces. Asger gave a little wave from where he sat with his hands on the oar. She was one of them. Her blood had won through. No, she screwed up her forehead. It had been a matter of honour. Her heart remained firmly wedded to Ranrike and her whole being had to be devoted to saving her family. She had to right the wrong she had inadvertently caused. She felt only gratitude towards Ivar. Somewhere deep inside her, a little voice called her a liar.

  ‘I see you failed to make Valhalla, Asger,’ she said, pushing away the conflicting thoughts.

  ‘Some day I will,’ Asger said, puffing out his chest. ‘Uncle Ivar says that I am a true Viken warrior now that I have been blooded in battle. My mother will be proud.’

  ‘Your mother is more likely to skin me alive,’ Ivar answered. ‘I worried for my future well being, but luckily Thyre pulled you to safety when you failed to stop the berserker with the axe.’

  ‘Asger will have to take better care next time.’ She put her hands on to her head. She needed to move and to get away from the images that were clogging her brain. She began to go back towards where she had sat before the battle.

  ‘Stay still, your wound is open and you have lost blood.’

  Thyre regarded the dark stain on her shift. A wave of nausea washed over her. Her arm seemed to belong to someone else and refused to respond to her attempt to make a fist.

  ‘You promised I would live.’ She tried to make her voice sound unconcerned. ‘I do not see you tending your men.’

  ‘They are not my concubines. They can tend to their own wounds.’ Ivar reached into a bag that hung from his belt. ‘I think this calls for touchwood.’

  ‘Touchwood?’ Thyre gave a strangled laugh and tried to ignore the ever-growing stain on her shift. ‘Are you going to light a funeral pyre? Surely you can see that I am still breathing.’

  ‘It works to stem bleeding. Annis, Haakon’s wife, taught me the trick. It has saved other lives, including Haakon’s prize elk hound when he was savaged by wolves.’

  ‘Annis? What a strange name.’

  ‘She is from Northumbria. Like you, she has a tendency to want to fight.’ Ivar’s eyes danced as he withdrew the piece of touchwood from his pouch. ‘She once killed a berserker.’

  ‘I have heard the Lindisfarne saga.’ Thyre closed her eyes as Ivar’s fingers moved the cloth from her shoulder and exposed the wound. ‘But I was certain that was an exaggeration.’

  ‘No, it was one of the truths.’

  ‘And what is the truth about my wound?’

  ‘Sigmund’s sword was sharp and clean. The wound should remain clear of infection.’ He crumbled some of the touchwood on the wound. Then he stripped off his jerkin and fine linen tunic. With a great rip, he tore a sleeve from the tunic and, using his dagger, cut it into strips. He wrapped the strips around her shoulder, fashioning a bandage, and then put on his jerkin again.

  ‘You will need a tunic.’

  ‘I have found a better use for it.’ His cool fingers touched her cheek. ‘The entire boat owes you a life-debt, Thyre. Remember that.’

  ‘I was trying to save my own life, not theirs.’

  ‘Unintended consequence.’ His hand stroked her hair, capturing it between his fingers. ‘These men would be willing to give their lives for you. When are you going to be honest with them?’

  ‘Honest? I have no idea what you mean.’ Thyre kept her head upright, even though the temptation to lean against him nearly overwhelmed her.

  ‘When were you planning on telling me that you were the Swan Princess’s daughter?’

  Thyre had to force the breath back into her lungs. After all they had been through, it seemed such a little thing to reveal. She allowed her head to collapse against her chest. ‘How long have you known?’

  ‘Since I saw the scrap of material from the chest—it was her court dress. And the light opened on my mind. It was why Sigmund became so angry. He was practically foaming at the mouth. He thought you were being sent as an emissary from Ragnfast the Steadfast.’

  ‘You know the truth.’ Thyre shifted uneasily. How much of the story could she reasonably trust him with? Would he guess that King Thorkell was her unacknowledged father?

  ‘You should have trusted me.’

  Thyre stared at him, her pain and discomfort forgotten. ‘But how did you know the dress?’

  ‘When I was younger than Asger, the Swan Princess resided at the court. Everyone was in love with her, including me. She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. She once stopped and wiped my face after I had had a fight in the hall.’

  ‘Ragnfast liberated her. He brought her back to her brother King Mysing,’ Thyre said carefully. She had not even considered that Ivar might have personal memories of her mother. Would he be able to remember the dates? Would he guess that King Thorkell was her father and that her mother had cheated by not fulfilling his wish and murdering any sickly child? How much would his life-debt to her count then? ‘She died when I was eight. My mother and Ragnfast were happy. I think they were friends before she was sent as a hostage…before everything happened.’

  ‘That was what confused me. I thought she had died much earlier.’

  ‘Then you were wrong. Her brother Mysing, then the new Ranriken king, banished her. She became dead to him.’ Thyre pulled her shift down so it covered her ankles. She refused to explain that the quarrel had to do with the child her mother carried, and how King Mysing wanted the baby strangled at birth. There was no guarantee that King Thorkell would accept her if he knew the truth. Ragnfast had explained the full significance of the dagger when Thyre had found it amongst her mother’s things after her death. How King Thorkell had given it to her mother. If she had had a son, she was supposed to send him to be raised a Viken. And her mother had known that the dagger was a sign that she was to kill the child, shou
ld it be a girl. Thyre glanced up at Ivar’s face. Would he protect her against King Thorkell’s wrath? No, it was better to allow her father to be a mystery. She could not be sure whom to trust. ‘Had we best get the sail up? Night will come soon. My shoulder pains me.’

  ‘We will speak of this later, Thyre.’ Ivar’s face was set in planes of chiselled stone. ‘After you are rested, you will tell me the full truth, the true reason you wanted to go to Kaupang. Why you seduced me in that particular fashion. I dislike game playing and will not be used as some counter in an imaginary game of tafl. Nor will I allow my men to be used.’

  ‘I have told the truth. This is no game of tafl. My being here had everything to do with my duty towards my family and nothing to do with the Swan Princess. That story is history,’ Thyre whispered to his retreating back. She settled her body against the bulwark, away from the splash of the waves. Everything ached and all she wanted to do was to sleep. Later she would plan. There had to be a way to warn Ragnfast and to prevent anyone else from being harmed. It was the only thing she had left worth living for.

  Thyre woke with an abrupt start as the pain in her shoulder throbbed. The horrors of the day came rushing back at her and she knew that it had been no dream. The sun had set and the dark velvet of the night sky twinkled with silver stars. The mast creaked slightly, but the sail was full of wind and the ship glided over the waves. All around her was a comforting darkness. The snores of the Viken filled her ears. She started to settle down again when she saw a figure sitting with his hand on the oar, moving it slightly every so often so that the sail filled, but not too much.

  She inched her way forwards. Hand over hand, hanging on to the side of the boat. ‘Ivar?’

  He kept a hand on the steering oar, but his other hand closed around her wrist and gently eased her forwards so that she could sit next to him. ‘I thought you would sleep longer. The rest of the company are sleeping.’

  ‘The pain in my shoulder woke me.’ She stared at him. The starlight had turned his skin to silver.

  ‘Someone has to steer. When we get to Kaupang, then I shall sleep. Safety and home and then rest.’

  ‘Isn’t there anyone else? You were not steering earlier when we left my home.’

  ‘I would only trust Erik the Black with this boat and he has gone to Kaupang as a hostage.’

  Thyre gave a nod. She could understand the need to make sure a job was properly done. She had often done that. But it made Ivar more dangerous. It would be so easy to start to care for him. A day ago, she thought she would never see him again, and now she did not want to think about what would happen when he went out of her life. She took a deep breath. ‘Ragnfast never sent me. What happened today is not part of some elaborate game. Ragnfast is above all things loyal to King Mysing.’

  ‘I want to believe you, Thyre.’

  ‘It is the truth. Ragnfast may depend on my counsel, but what sort of man would send a woman like me as an emissary?’

  He glanced up at the sky, and then moved the steering oar. Thyre began to hope that he might believe her. ‘You should have said about your mother being the Swan Princess.’

  ‘And would that have stopped what happened? Ragnfast was overcome by greed and Dagmar had to be protected. Would you have taken me as a concubine? Or would you have found some other way to punish my stepfather?’

  ‘I do not know. It is an honest answer, Thyre. Many in Viken were upset when the Swan Princess left, but Bose said…’ He paused, and his fingers caught her chin, turning her first one way and then the other, before abruptly releasing her.

  ‘Is something the matter?’

  ‘It is ancient history, Thyre. I do not delve into what might have been, but if Bose the Dark is at Kaupang when we arrive, I think we will be having a chat. Things are missing.’

  ‘Missing?’

  ‘Ragnfast managed to escape with your mother. By your own account, he is not a good sailor. There should have been a chase. I had never thought of it before.’

  Should have been a chase. Casual words, but ones that caused a stab of fear to run through Thyre.

  ‘It is all history. But Ragnfast never had any time for Viken after that.’

  ‘When did your mother marry Ragnfast?’

  ‘She chose marriage to the man who rescued her after her brother the king turned against her. She thought there should be peace between Ranrike and Viken and the frithe should be kept. He disagreed. Is it important?’

  ‘I had wondered what happened to her and why we were never told the truth. King Thorkell never wished for her death.’

  ‘What is court like? My mother used to tell stories when she wanted Dagmar and me to behave.’

  ‘It was a very different court when she was there. Queen Asa, when she married King Thorkell, made changes.’

  ‘Good or bad? My mother told me tales of the hunts they had and the feasting. How the men would fight bloody battles in the hall and the women would be made to watch.’ Thyre gave a hiccupping laugh. ‘I was so relieved when you said that concubines were not allowed there. The fights in Ragnfast’s hall are bad enough and the foresters only use their fists.’

  ‘It is now more refined. Asa has had a civilising influence. She likes a woman to be womanly. She brought a number of women from Denmark, including Edda, my late wife, and banished concubines from taking an active role in court life.’

  ‘I like to think that I always behave in the appropriate manner.’ Thyre shifted so there was air between them. ‘You were the one who made me into a concubine.’

  Ivar reached out and gathered her towards him. His arm went about her waist and she could feel the bulk of his muscles against her thin shift. He lowered his mouth to hers.

  ‘Court is far from everything. Neither Queen Asa nor any of her ladies could have fought Sigmund,’ he said against her lips, ‘let alone killed him. You must have some Valkyrie blood in you.’

  Thyre drank from his mouth. She needed this man. She did not want to think about the future. Or how unsophisticated she was. She had never experienced the intrigues of court.

  Then he put her from him as the sail filled out and the mast gave a loud creak. ‘Now I need to concentrate.’

  ‘What was that kiss for? For luck?’

  ‘Because, daughter of Skathi, I wanted to. I make my own luck.’

  ‘I am no warrior.’ Thyre paused, remembering the tale of how the goddess Skathi had donned her father’s armour and demanded satisfaction from the gods as they supped at Asgard. Eventually, they accepted her as a goddess and she married the god of the sea.

  He ran a hand down her arm. ‘You are all night-time promise and daytime fierceness.’

  ‘Something to be admired?’

  ‘To me it makes you interesting, a puzzle. I am finding that I quite enjoy puzzles.’

  They sat there, with his hands on the steering oar in companionable silence. She relaxed against him and did not think beyond the moment. Somehow, she drew strength from the steady beat of his heart under her ear. They would get to Kaupang, and she would ensure Ragnfast’s safety without revealing her parentage.

  The wind caught the sail and, suddenly, the mast began to twist with an ear-splitting crack. The entire ship woke. Ivar swore loudly.

  ‘The mast is going.’

  Thyre looked out at it. If the mast collapsed, they would all perish out here in the ocean.

  ‘Something will be needed to bind the mast together to prevent it from crackling more. To keep it from completely splitting,’ she said.

  ‘But what? There is no time.’

  ‘My apron dress,’ Thyre said, warming to the idea as her mind raced. ‘It will make for a strong padding. It is good honest wool. Wool absorbs water.’

  Ivar was silent for a long moment. ‘Why are you willing to do this? I could use the silk in the hold. It will serve the same purpose.’

  ‘The silk is not as strong and there is no time. That mast needs to be bound now.’ Thyre struggled out of the dress and stood in
her shift. ‘Wool will be better. Later if you need more, use the silk.’

  Ivar held the dress in his hand as if he were weighing up the offering. ‘If you like, I will use it. Anything to save the ship.’

  ‘Do it quickly.’

  Rapidly he bound the mast, and the creaking stopped. The sail filled again with wind and the boat began to move.

  Thyre concentrated on securing the rope. Her shoulder tugged, but somehow she seemed far more alive out here next to Ivar than she had ever been back at the steading.

  Ivar watched the horizon in the dull grey sky. Instead of the sea meeting the sky, a brown line appeared. It was impossible to tell where Erik the Black and the Ranrike ship were. He suspected that the captain would spend the night in a bay and that they were ahead of the ship. But he could not be sure. He knew the tricks the sea could play.

  He waited a few breaths more until he could make out the vague outlines of the rock islands that guarded the entrance to the harbour. Then his life would start again. It was very different from when he had sailed out of the harbour earlier in the year. Then he had thought that he would marry whomever Thorkell recommended. But now, he knew that he could not. He had seen how two households had torn his father apart. A jaarl could not marry his concubine. It was not done in Viken, even though Haakon had married Annis. Then the circumstances had been very different. Annis was a great lady, whereas Thyre was simply the bastard daughter of a disgraced princess.

  ‘Time to get the sail down,’ he called.

  ‘The gods have favoured us,’ Asger cried.

  ‘The gods? What about my skill? Or Thyre’s quick thinking and reflexes?’ Ivar asked.

  ‘If I compliment you on your skill, Uncle, I would have to compliment Thyre’s apron dress and that would not be right as she is in her shift.’ Asger’s ears became bright pink.

  ‘You have acquired an admirer, Thyre.’ He glanced at her dark black hair. ‘But we need to get this boat into harbour.’