His Flame, Her Viking

Chapter 3: Dangerous Waters

Not long after we disembarked from the shore of Inverness, dark storm clouds rolled over the horizon, blocking our view of the sun. It left me to wonder if God was condemning the Vikings for their cruelty to my people. The Jarl had allowed me to say a quick goodbye to my parents. Ma cried uncontrollably while holding me like she did when I was a child. Da gave me the biggest hug and told me to be brave.

But how could I be brave when I faced an unknown future amongst barbarians, likely as their slave?

I had watched teary-eyed as the small man who helped the Jarl translate led Sgàil onto one of the ships. My poor colt appeared so unsure and kept glancing back at me with whinnies of distress. It broke my heart that I was powerless to save him, to offer comfort.

To my surprise, the ship where I was boarded with the Jarl had a tent fixed over the entire length of the middle section to offer shelter from the elements. I had stood at the stern, watching the green hills of home grow smaller on the horizon until they disappeared from sight.

Slowly, I collapsed underneath the tent beside the mast that held the massive sail. I crossed my arms over my chest as my shoulders began to shake with silent sobs. Why did the Vikings have to come to Inverness? If they hadn't, I'd be helping my ma cook supper right now while my da finished in the fields for the day. I'd have Sgàil tucked in for the night in his freshly-cleaned stall with fresh hay and water.

Instead, I sat here alone and scared on a Viking ship surrounded by barbarians who would certainly mistreat me. They were notorious for raping women wherever they raided and keeping slaves for their personal enjoyment. Is that what I would be? A slave meant only for pleasure?

Gasping in fear, I quickly made the sign of the cross. They would take my virtue against my will, ruining me eternally and condemning me to hell. "Lord, forgive me," I whimpered quietly. The last thing I wanted was for these horrible men to hear me crying.

The little light that managed to pierce through the clouds barely lit the tent. I was nearly surrounded by complete darkness which only fueled my loneliness. My life as I knew it was gone. I could never go back because any attempt to escape would surely bring the Jarl's wrath down upon my village, even if I did manage to get away. Suicide would probably incite the same reaction, plus I didn't desire to burn for eternity in hell.

Therefore, my only option was to survive this strange, barbaric life with no freedom and a beast holding my chains.

I watched from underneath the tent as the Jarl and his men spoke in a teasing manner amongst themselves. They seemed oblivious to my pain and the pain of my village. I may have been the only one taken as an offering, but the Vikings certainly took everything valuable to be had in Inverness. Surviving the coming winter with no money would prove difficult for them.

"Here, girl."

Startled, I nearly jumped at the sudden appearance of the small man who spoke English. He held his hand out with what seemed to be a piece of dried, salted meat. For a while, I merely stared at the meat while trying to ignore my growling stomach. I didn't want anything from these people, but I did need to eat.

With the speed of an adder, I grabbed the meat from his hand then studied it before finally taking a bite. It tasted salty and was tough to chew, but it was food. The man watched me with guarded amusement. If I weren't so hungry or distressed, I might stop to wonder how a Saxon came to join the ranks of Vikings.

"My name is Peder," He suddenly announced. There, in his eyes, I witnessed a glimmer of empathy. A hint of humanity.

I didn't offer my name. He may be a Saxon, which I would gladly take any day over these wretched Vikings, but he still allied with them. He was no better than they were. In fact, he might be worse if he turned his back on his people to be one of them.

"I'll never trust a Saxon with a Viking name," I sneered, glaring at him with unbridled hatred.

At that, Peder shook his head. He let out an exasperated sigh. "You'll live a lonely life if you turn your back on us. We're all you have now."

"And whose fault is that?" I retorted angrily.

A shadow fell over us, drawing my eyes to the Jarl who stood at the tent entrance. "Se på tungen din."

Immediately, Peder backed away and lowered his eyes to the floor. "Jarl Ivar."

I stood up to face the Jarl on trembling legs. The Saxon didn't scare me nearly as much as the Jarl. Although I could think of a thousand things I'd like to say to him, I held my tongue. I wasn't stupid. Here, I was their prisoner and subject to their treatment. I needed to lay low for now just to survive.

"Det kommer en storm." The Jarl's voice was calmer now than before. It lost its rage but still sounded husky. His green eyes surveyed me up and down which made me instinctively wrap my arms around my chest even though I was clothed. "Hun trenger en frokk," He ordered Peder who immediately left the tent.

I couldn't understand what he was saying and Peder didn't stop to translate. All I could understand was 'storm', but I'd gathered as much from the darkening sky and the sickening jerk of the ship. The hair along the back of my neck rose at the realization that I was alone in the tent with the Jarl. There was no one here to prevent him from taking full advantage of me.

He strode towards me, closing the gap between us. I found myself with my back to the mast and his nose centimeters from my face. In his eyes, I saw the same feral stare a fox might give a hare. There was a primal nature to him that scared me. He was a barbarian, far more similar to the wolves of the highlands. Their Pagan ways spat on everything I held dear.

"Fra nå av, er du min." He was so close that I could feel his warm breath on my face.

I didn't understand what he said, but something in his tone irked me. He was much too close for comfort so I held my breath. Now that he was closer to me, it did offer me the chance to get a closer look at him. He towered over me with broad shoulders that made him look like he could take on a bear...and win. His eyes were the lightest shade of green; they reminded me of the reindeer lichen that grew in the forest: a delicate mixture of grey and green.

The blond stubble along his chin told me that he cared enough for his hygiene to keep clean-shaven. I'd noticed the men who chose to wear beards wore them neatly-trimmed. He also had a woody, musky smell that I couldn't place but it smelled exotic. His blond hair had clearly been washed as well. I was shocked since I thought their hygiene would be next to pigs but, clearly, I was wrong.

Suddenly, Peder reentered the tent with something of a coat in his hands. He handed it to the Jarl who proceeded to wrap it around my shoulders. The material was leather with some type of grey animal fur lining the inside. It was much too big for me. At first I wanted to protest because I didn't want anything from theses beasts, but then I felt the coat's warmth and relaxed.

Suddenly, the Jarl spoke, his green eyes fixed on me: "Vi kommer til Reykjavík på syv dager."

Peder glanced at me to translate, "We will be to Reykjavík in seven days."

"Where's Rey-ka-ja-vek?" I asked Peder, stumbling over the name of our destination. I've never heard of such a place.

"Iceland."

~*~

A/N
Hello my readers! I hope you're enjoying "His Flame, Her Viking" so far. In the next couple of chapters it will start to pick up. Please remember to vote and leave comments about what you think will happen next.