Season of the Sun (Viking Era 1)

She wondered where else she could possibly go, but said nothing. She nodded and followed the old woman inside the hut. It was hot with steam rising to the thatch ceiling. In the center of the single room was a huge wooden tub big enough for two people. It was circled with thick iron bands. The woman silently handed Zarabeth a square of soap and left her. At the doorway she turned and said, “Yer husband is fetching clothes from his vessel.”

Her husband. She merely nodded. Quickly she bathed Lotti, scrubbing the child until she was trying to get away from Zarabeth’s hands. She wrapped her in a big square of linen and set her on the woven mats that covered part of the floor. She took her face between her hands and said slowly, “Don’t dirty yourself, sweeting. I will be quick.”

When Zarabeth was in the tub, she closed her eyes at the pleasure of it and leaned her head back.

She awoke with a start, sensing something different. She opened her eyes to see Magnus standing over her, staring down at her, that intent expression on his face. She moved to cover her breasts, then realized that her hair, wet and thick and tangled, covered all of her.

“I brought clean clothing for both of you.”

Then he turned and squatted down beside Lotti. She was staring at him, her eyes wary. He smiled and withdrew a lovely antler comb from his tunic. Slowly, with patience that left Zarabeth bemused, Magnus combed the tangles from the child’s hair. Soon Lotti was leaning against him, and when he jerked too hard, she turned and pummeled his chest. Magnus laughed and told her to hold still, he was trying his best. Once her hair was long and untangled down her back, he rose. “You can braid her hair when you are through. I must go now.”

Zarabeth simply stared at the doorway for long moments after he’d disappeared. She didn’t understand him. Not at all.

By the time she had dressed and combed her own hair, it was late and her stomach was growling. There had been only a bit of dried salted meat to eat that morning. She took Lotti’s hand and they walked to the entrance of the hut.

The activity hadn’t slowed. There were so many people, pressing together, but there was laughter too, and she heard some singing from the distance. The old woman was nowhere to be seen. The sun was still hot overhead, and Zarabeth eased down on a woven mat at the doorway, drawing Lotti onto her lap.

She didn’t immediately notice the powerfully built dark-haired man who was striding toward her. When she did, she saw that he was smiling and coming directly to her. She felt something in her respond with hunger at the kindness she saw in his smile.

She found herself smiling back at him. When he reached her, he said, “Good day to you, mistress. You and your daughter enjoy the sun?”

“Aye. And a nice bath.” She waved toward the inside of the hut. “We were both very dirty.”

“No longer,” he said, and suddenly he was standing very close, towering over her. Zarabeth drew back and quickly stood, letting Lotti down to stand beside her, holding her close to her side.

“No,” she said, still trying to smile, “no longer at all.” There was no reason to fear this man. There were dozens of people about. He was being kind to her. “I have never been to Hedeby before. It is crowded, more so than York.”

His smile didn’t slip, but he ignored her words. “Is it true you came with Magnus Haraldsson, aboard the Sea Wind?”

/> She nodded, wary now, yet not understanding what it was he wanted.

“He is a fool.” The man reached out his hand and lightly stroked a lock of her damp hair. She didn’t move, merely drew back very slowly. He still smiled at her. “You’re beautiful.” He touched her arm then, and then jerked her toward him, dragging her off-balance. “He’s a fool to leave you here unprotected. Ah, but you are beautiful.” He touched her hair again, wrapping a thick tress around his fist. She saw the hunger in his eyes, recognized it for what it was. “I have never seen such a color. And your eyes—that green is beyond what a man dreams of. I would have you. Come with me now and I will save you from Magnus. He’s a cruel man, all know of it, a savage who knows nothing of the needs of a sweet and gentle creature like you. He would hurt you, perhaps even kill you with his beatings. Come with me, quickly. I will care for you, treat you like a queen. Aye, quickly, come!”

“Go away. Leave me alone.”

“Fear me not, for I would never harm such beauty as you hold. I have heard you’re his slave. You would be a fool to stay with him. Come with me now.”

Then, without warning, he leaned down, yanking on Zarabeth’s hair so that she couldn’t move without pain, and kissed her hard on the mouth.

Just as suddenly, Zarabeth heard an enraged cry. It was Magnus. In the next moment the man was whirled away from her and was staggering from the blow Magnus had given him.

Then Magnus was standing over the man, and he held a knife in his hand. “You dare to touch what is mine, you craven fool?”

The man held his jaw, then slowly rose. He shrugged, angered, for he had heard that Magnus was well-occupied. Well, no matter. There would always come another opportunity, another time. He said easily, “The woman was there, and she was willing. She waved me over to her and spoke sweetly to me. Would you not take what was offered from such as she?”

Zarabeth was shaking her head, crying shrilly, “He is lying! He—”

“Shut your mouth!” Magnus turned back to the man, his eyes narrowed. “Get you from my sight, else I’ll slit your miserable throat.”

The man gave Zarabeth a melancholy smile and then took himself off. “He lied, Magnus,” she said, frantic now. “He lied! He came over to us and he was nice, but then he grabbed me and wanted me to go with him. I told him to leave me alone, I swear it to you.”

He interrupted her, his voice savage and cold. “Enough! By Odin, to think I actually believed I could trust you alone for even a moment! You damnable bitch! Come, I know what must be done to you.”

He took her arm and dragged her down the center wooden walkway. Lotti, clutching to her skirt, ran beside her. Past a dozen huts he dragged her, to the blacksmith’s. “Here,” he said, and flung her inside.

Still she didn’t realize what he meant to do. She backed away, pulling Lotti with her. “What do we here?”

“You are a slave. It is time you bore the mark of one.”