Season of the Sun (Viking Era 1)

Ingunn slapped him hard. He wasn’t expecting the blow and thus wasn’t prepared. Both of them nearly fell from his horse’s back. He thrashed until he regained his balance. He said nothing, merely stared at her. Ingunn tried to pull away. Then Ragnar smiled. He lifted her from the saddle and with one quick motion brought her over his thighs. He smacked her buttocks until she was squirming and screaming at him. He was laughing again, and his stallion was dancing wildly to the side. Ragnar paid no heed. With each smack he gave a dictum. “Ingunn, you will not gainsay me. You will obey me. You will sweeten your tongue. You will not flail me with it, but rather kiss me whenever I wish it. You will show me only winsome smiles. No more barbs will fly from your mouth.”

Magnus urged Thorgell forward. Zarabeth buried her face in his tunic. It astounded her how life could rebound in such wide sweeps, from terror to laughter to indignation to insults. Ingunn was still yelling and Ragnar was still smacking her and laughing and telling her what she would do. Magnus was warm against her and she knew that she would come back into life and share in its pain and its laughter. She knew she could not much longer seek only to slip away from life and watch it from afar, remaining untouched and isolated.

They rode in silence for some time, distancing themselves from the others. Occasionally they heard Ingunn’s sharp voice and more of Ragnar’s laughter, as well as loudly shouted comments from the men.

Magnus drew to a halt beside a small clear lake, loosening Thorgell’s reins so his stallion could drink. “Are you thirsty, Zarabeth?”

She was. They dismounted and she came down to her knees at the water’s edge, cupped her hands, and scooped up the cold water. It tasted wonderful in her raw throat.

“Better?”

“Aye,” she said, and rose, the sword clanging against her thigh.

Magnus stood looking over the viksfjord. “Egill is alive. I find it strange that I, a man of little imagination, dreamed he was alive, dreamed that he was also sold into slavery. Orm has much to answer for.”

“I am going with you.”

He turned abruptly on his heel to face her. She was standing there clothed only in his tunic, that ridiculous man’s belt hanging at her hips, the sword in its scabbard coming nearly to her foot. He smiled. “No.”

She paid him no heed. The only sign she gave that she had heard him was that her chin went up. He went to her and took her hand in his, drawing her against his side. “I will keep you safe this time. You will remain with my parents until I return.”

“Remain like a prisoner or a child with your parents? I have been a coward, Magnus, but no more. I must return with you to York. That is where we go, is it not?”

He shrugged.

“I know where Orm bought his land.”

“Where?”

“I will not tell you until you promise you will take me with you.”

“You will not force me into this, Zarabeth. I will simply ask Ingunn.”

Zarabeth lied swiftly and cleanly. “She doesn’t know. Orm told only me.”

“I will ask her anyway. Come, we have a long way to ride yet before we can stop for the night.”

Zarabeth gave a wistful look at the clear blue water. “Another bathing would be nice.”

“Perhaps this evening,” he said. He leaned down and kissed her. “If you are nice to me, perhaps I will bathe you myself this time.”

He kissed her again, then tugged her to Thorgell, who was chewing on the thick water grass.

Their return to Malek in the early afternoon was a joyous occasion. Magnus allowed Ingunn to remain the night. She would be taken, by Ragnar, on the morrow back to her parents’ farmstead. She was silent and sullen and Zarabeth wondered if the woman would ever change, if she would ever forget her own grievances long enough to be pleasant, long enough to let others enjoy themselves.

Zarabeth fell back quickly into a familiar pattern. A bountiful meal was prepared, fresh beer brought out, cold and biting from the nets lowered in the viksfjord. The women served platters of broiled deer and wild boar steaks. There were boiled peas and baked cabbage with onions and potatoes braised in the burning embers. Zarabeth ate with the women, speaking together of domestic matters while Magnus and the men drank beer and discussed their voyage to the Danelaw. They were leaving in three days. There was fitting-up of the Sea Wind to be done, supplies to be gathered and stowed, and the steering oar had yet to be finished. Zarabeth said nothing more to Magnus. She would go with him to the Danelaw. She simply wasn’t yet certain how she would manage it.

Zarabeth fell asleep curled up on the mistress’s chair, a tunic with needle and thread in her lap. Magnus stood over her, glancing at the material she was sewing. It looked to be a tunic for him, and he was inordinately pleased. The material was soft pale blue linen. Her stitches were small and perfect. He loved her so much at that moment, he wanted to shout with it. He carefully removed the sewing materials from her lap, then lifted her in his arms and carried her to their bedchamber. He didn’t light the lamp. It was dark as a pit, since the single narrow window was covered tightly.

He undressed her and himself.

He wanted to see her but decided lighting the lamp would wake her. He sighed and covered both of them. She was exhausted and he himself was feeling weary. He fell asleep, his member heavy, his thoughts of his wife, seeing her in her man’s tunic, Orm’s sword belt strapped around her hips. “It is now my sword,” she’d informed him when he’d asked her if she wanted him to take it. “I won it fairly and I shall keep it.”

He slept deeply until the voice came, soft and insistent in his ear.

“Do you remember the things you said to me in York, Magnus? You were arrogant and brash and daring and I found you vastly pleasing. You made me laugh and you shocked me and I wanted you so very much. You told me how you treated Cyra and I believed you mad. You said, so very seriously, that you wouldn’t hurt me, even if I wished you to. You were so solemn, as if conferring a great favor on me. I thought you unbelievable and bold and wonderful. I still do.”

“I also promised to please you, Zarabeth, but until now, I haven’t much succeeded.”