Lord of Hawkfell Island (Viking Era 2)

Ottar laughed. “Aye. But the other women say that she must take her turn, that it isn’t fair she just perform one task—no matter how well she performs it.”

“She has remarkable talents,” Hafter said, grinning, his blue eyes lighting up. “Surely it is enough to occupy her time.”

Ottar just laughed. “Aye, ’tis enough that she part her legs for me, for you, Hafter, for Gurd, or for you, Sculla—”

“Nay, not for me,” Sculla said. “I would crush her were I to take her.” This, Rorik thought, was probably the truth. Sculla was so tall he had to bend over to enter the longhouse. Sculla and Amma were well suited, at least in their respective sizes. Ah, but Amma was a sharp-tongued woman, taking no orders from the men, even her husband.

“Entti much enjoys herself,” Rorik said. “She is a woman of calling. You, Ottar, may cease your listing of men’s names.” He sighed. “It’s not just Entti’s cooking, though it is bad enough. The other women seem to have forgotten what ingredients go with what and the most simple of preparations. I don’t understand it. I have asked why anyone would put onions in porridge, but Old Alna just shakes her head and grunts. If the women don’t regain their skills, we will all be dead or lying about with cramping bellies. They suffer just as we do, which makes it even more a mystery.”

Hafter shook his head. “Perhaps they will take a new vote and decide to remove Entti from the cooking pots. It’s been nearly three weeks of her cooking—Old Alna swore to me Entti had cooked all the time whilst we were gone. She said the other women were trying to teach her, but it was not a skill she took to easily.”

“Alna is a treacherous crone,” Sculla said, hunching down so his head didn’t strike against the low-lying oak branches just off the path. “She lies like a virgin born, the old crone. I’ve always admired her. So does Amma.”

“Women are stubborn,” Ottar said, “mayhap even dangerous, for their thinking isn’t reasonable like ours. Even my little Utta gets a notion and I can’t move her from it. Her mother was the same way. Sweet and gentle one moment, then her chin would go up, her eyes would turn black, and I knew I would be stupid to open my mouth to disagree with her. By Thor’s hammer, we’ll all starve before the women reverse their vote. Mayhap you should speak to Old Alna, Rorik.”

“I did,” Rorik said. “She spoke of how I had made her responsible for the homestead and how she was doing her best. She then gave me a look that clearly said I would be a brutal monster were I to complain more.”

Aslak stared at them, laughed until he choked, spat on a rock in his path, and marveled aloud, “You are all blind. I have been here only a day and have seen that the women are preparing wretched meals apurpose. You surely don’t believe they’re eating the same food they prepare for us, do you?”

“That is foolish,” Hafter said, swatting at a fly. “You’re wrong, Aslak. They wouldn’t dare.”

“Ha!” Aslak said, louder this time, shaking his head at them. “Don’t you see? The women are punishing all of you for taking Entti to your beds.”

Sculla said, “None of the men who are wedded seek her bed, or if they do they are cautious about it, they don’t boast of it to their wives. Aye, they creep about very carefully. Gurd is very sly about it.”

“I wonder,” Rorik said.

“You are all fools,” Aslak said. “I know it is the truth. It’s as obvious as the snout on that boar.”

“Women,” said Ottar, “are occasionally shrewd in their cunning. They shrink from nothing. I think Aslak might be in the right of it. We should—that is, Lord Rorik should simply order that Entti doesn’t touch another piece of food. It is for the women to obey, especially to obey you, Rorik. You will simply tell them what to do and what not to do and who is not to do it. You will tell them they are to remember how to cook properly or you will punish them.”

Rorik looked at him as if Ottar were mad.

Raki flexed his mighty fists. Rorik knew he could slay six of the enemy with ease and bellow with joy all the while. But with Erna and his two sons, he was a man of gentle parts. He’d been thoughtfully silent until now. He said, “The crops grow well. Not all of us are needed here for protection or for hunting or farming. We could sail up the Seine, and go araiding on all those rich little towns. Ah, aye, ’twould be good sport and our pockets would grow heavy with gold and silver. Or we could go to Hedeby to trade some of Gurd’s swords for wine from the Rhineland. Aye, we could trade some soapstone bowls for leather and ornaments. There is no reason to stay here and starve. Even bedding Entti isn?

?t worth that, though all of you say she passes the time most pleasantly. What say you, Rorik?”

Rorik sighed. “I will speak to the women again. Then we will see.”

The men looked at each other without much hope.

7

OLD ALNA SAID to Asta, who was Gurd the blacksmith’s wife, “Lord Rorik keeps the woman chained to his bed. He tells me to stay away from her. What think you?”

Asta, always laughing, wasn’t laughing now. She shook her head. “It is all strange. Lord Rorik isn’t brutal, particularly to women. Is she really so vicious, so cold and cruel? I know she is the sister of Lord Rorik’s avowed enemy, but still, why would he treat her so meanly? She did nothing to harm him, at least I don’t think she did. But the stories the men have told could curdle the goat’s milk.”

“Little Utta thinks she’s very nice and she’s been feeding her all day—her cooking, not Entti’s—the same as we’ve been eating. Do we do the right thing, Asta? With the good food, the girl will regain her strength in no time at all.”

“Aye, and when she does, Alna, what then? It makes no difference. Let her eat, let her belly sing with happiness. The child is an excellent cook, and the men wouldn’t ever suspect her of duplicity, even Ottar, her father. Aye, let them suffer and let the prisoner grow fat. Do you know that two of the wedded men have taken Entti since their return not twenty-four hours ago? I suspect Gurd, but he is sly, and when he returns to me, he complains of loose bowels and belly pains. Ha! The wives are furious. I’m furious. No, Alna, let them eat Entti’s cooking until they come to reason.”

“It is a good plan, this one of Amma’s,” Old Alna said. “She is smart and determined to teach the men a lesson. She is always saying that Sculla is constant and that the others should be as well. She says that they can starve unless they come to reason.

“It takes a long time for a man to starve,” Old Alna continued. “Mayhap starvation takes longer than it takes to bring him to reason.”

Rorik strode into the sleeping chamber. He’d bathed all the wild boar’s blood off him, all the rotted marsh mud, and donned a clean tunic. He stopped, surprise and fury combining to make him flush red. She was propped up against his feather pillow like a lady taking her ease. Her hair was combed and braided. Soft curls had come loose to feather around her face. She looked very different, aye, that lady or princess ensconced in her bed, waiting for her slaves to attend her. He frowned down at her. She looked up at him, saying nothing.

He saw the chain around her wrist. It made him feel better. She might look like a princess, but she was, indeed, his hostage, chained by him. Aye, he was the master, he was the one who held her future in his hands. He wouldn’t allow her to forget it. “Get up,” he said.