The Viking's Hold II: Emma

Chapter 1: Raid

Warning: unedited. It's nearly 6 AM and I've been up all night...

Emma sat on a rock, her bare feet swinging in the cool water. Her dress was pretty, but warm. Too warm for such a bright day. She collected a few drops in her palm and patted the back of her neck, under the stuffy headrail. The guards had to be roasting in their thick leather tunics and steel helmets. There wasn't any shade in the field, which didn't seem to bother the children. A throng of them had followed through the village, and now a full blown battle was raging.

She kept a close eye on it, but knew not to intervene unless serious harm threatened to occur. Lord Sven forbade her to cosset his son and heir. If Gunnar was to become a warrior, he would learn to deal with a few cuts and bruises. And he did. The boy was strong and fearless, and would often fight bigger opponents, to his father's pride and his mother's despair.

The fight ended with the tiny army falling back in the tall grass, red and sweaty from heat and exertion. Emma chuckled and got up. She slipped on her shoes and turned around, looking for the water pouch. As she bent to pick it up, she noticed a shadow in the distance, by the river bend. The sun was blinding her and she placed a hand above her eyes, shielding them. What was that? She squinted, stretching her neck to see better.

Nay, it couldn't be. There wasn't enough depth for it to be a boat, not at this season. In the middle of the stream the water wouldn't reach her hips. Yet it was, and getting closer, fast. The sail was down, and she could make out the oars.

Before she could think, Emma was rushing towards her charge. "Raiders, run!" She reached Gunnar and pulled him up. "You must show what a chief you are. Get your friends to the village as fast as you can." She shook the others, ushering them forward. They were tired and desperately slow.

Emma looked back. The guards stood between her and the water, where the boat was now in plain sight. Soon it reached the end of the field and went ashore. She screamed as a few men jumped off and attacked. Lord's Sven's warriors were strong and well armed, but they were desperately outnumbered. Her eyes flew to the gates. The little ones had barely covered half the distance. They wouldn't make it. There was movement around the doors, but help wouldn't arrive in time. Already she could hear stomping behind her. A raider had passed the guards and was coming at them.

They wouldn't get the children. She wouldn't allow it. Taking a deep breath, Emma grabbed the wooden sword and pulled out her seax. Lady Hetha had taught her. She could slow them down.

"This campaign has been a success so far. We have all gained a fair amount of silver. So today I propose a challenge: each of you keeps what you can take. We will see who gets the larger prize and honor him with a feast on our way home. What say you?"

The crew screamed their approval, laughing and joking about their future prowess. Their chief grinned. The men were tired after weeks at sea. The challenge would lift their spirits while they sailed back.

Bjorn smiled. Perhaps he could find some nice jewels for Inge. They would be valuable and enhance her beauty. He might not win the prize, but it would be well worth it.

When they reached the first village, it was clear that the place was a fortress. They stood no chance of breaking in, and its commanding position made it impossible to try their chance further upstream without getting within arrow range. But as they got closer, he took in the guards, the children, and the richly dressed woman in the meadow. She had to wear jewelry, and she would make a good hostage. Surely her father or husband would pay a hefty sum to get her back.

As soon as he jumped out he made a beeline for her, letting the others fight off her protectors. He had expected her to cry and beg, and was stunned when she jumped at him, hissing like a mad cat. He shortly escaped a stab to the chest, but not the well-aimed kick that hit him between the legs. The blow had been dampened by his padded tunic, yet it hurt like hell. Enraged, Bjorn yelled his war cry and attacked. If she didn't want to be taken alive, so be it.

His spear jabbed only thin air, as she danced out of the way. He stepped back, trying to calm down. His father's words came back to him: "In battle, anger can get you killed." He frowned and watched her. She was young and limber; fast, not strong.

Bjorn grinned. He had her. He feinted to the right, and hit her hard with his shield when she swerved to the left. The thick wood caught her temple and she fell, dropping to her knees in the soft grass. Two blue orbs glared at him in silent reproach. Then they looked away and she smiled. And then they closed.

The last thing Emma remembered was the children reaching the gates. She didn't care what happened to her. She had done her duty. Little Gunnar was safe.

She was down on her side, on a hard surface. Planks. She blinked and squinted, trying to clear the fog from her eyes. Her head hurt, a lot, and the noise around her was no help. She willed her hands to cover her ears. They didn't move. Her fingers explored, found the rope around her wrists. They were tied in her back, hurting her shoulders. Tentatively, she moved her legs. Her ankles were blocked too. She was a prisoner.

Her sight was improving. There were multiple feet around her. Her headrail had shifted and blocked her vision. She shook her head but it didn't budge. So she wiggled to push herself up to a sitting position. And screamed when a hand grabbed her shoulder.

Bjorn had watched her come round. He was disappointed; she didn't have anything of value, aside her clothes. Hopefully she would be worth enough to compensate for this shortfall. He fetched a goblet of water and went to help her sit. He nearly dropped it when she screamed. He didn't expect it, she had not talked while they fought. By Thor, she had a voice.

"I won't hurt you, do not fret. You are too precious alive. Do you want to drink?"

When she didn't answer, he became worried. "Do you understand what I say?" He hoped she would. He didn't speak Anglisc. His chief had a few words though. Perhaps he could translate.

Emma pondered her answer. She was still too confused to be afraid, bar the scare of his sudden touch. Yet there would be no gain in lying. "I understand. Where am I?" she croaked.

"On our boat. Here." Bjorn pushed the headrail aside and held the soft wood to her lips, forcing her to swallow a mouthful.

Emma closed her eyes again. The cool water did marvels for her parched throat.

"More?"

She nodded. He supported her until she finished drinking, and then rested her back against the mast. Her eyelids fluttered open and she looked around.

The ship was big enough, about half the size of Lord Sven's. It was beached in a creek, which explained why she hadn't felt it move. The men who had surrounded her were now on the shore around a fire. A couple of rabbits turned on a spit. The scene felt weird, too peaceful. As if they had not attacked the fort earlier.

"How long was I unconscious?" She needed to know how far they had traveled. Mayhap she could be saved.

"The whole day. It is the evening now. Soon the sun will set."

Emma's eyes filled with tears. A ship could sail a long way in a day. She would never be found.