Anna Markland - Viking Roots Medieval Romance Saga 02 by The Rover Defiant Read Free Book Online Page B

had too much pride to give herself to a slave.
    She tried and failed to make her legs function. With a limp wave of her hand she dismissed Puella and curled her knees to her chest atop the chilly linens of her bed.

    Bryk lay awake listening to his wife’s steady breathing, kept awake by thoughts of Torstein. He and Alfred had discussed at length the possibility of granting their nephew his freedom before they’d actually made the decision. They were aware many in the Viking community would deem them mad for such an action. A thrall was a valuable chattel, especially an obedient and loyal one like Torstein.
    They’d also considered the difficulties Torstein would face if he were free. He would never be welcomed as a member of the Viking community.
    However, they’d concluded he had earned the right to be free, and truth be told Cathryn would never have accepted less than Torstein’s freedom.
    Much of what they feared might result had indeed come to pass. However, there was one thing Bryk hadn’t expected—his own attitude towards his nephew.
    He wished he was like Cathryn. She accepted Torstein for what he was—a brave man to whom she owed her life. Why couldn’t he do the same? Why was it difficult to open his heart to a courageous and generous young man who was his blood relative, the son of his own brother?
    The truth was he had too much pride. He, the warrior turned farmer turned warrior who’d incurred the wrath of his chieftain and the disdain of his neighbors, now had too much pride in his own importance to take a freed thrall to his bosom.
    He glanced up to the top of the armoire. Darkness cloaked the triptych but the saint was there, always ready to listen. “Saint Catherine of Alexandria,” he said inwardly. “Grant me the courage to overcome my pride before Cathryn perceives how weak I am.”

    Torstein had learned over the years to study his uncle’s facial expressions. Bryk didn’t hide his feelings. It was plain to see he was surprised by how quickly Torstein mastered the handling of a sword.
    It would of course be a long while, if ever, before he bested his uncle in combat, and he sensed Bryk was holding back, but he was confident he’d demonstrated his abilities.
    “You’ve used a sword before,” Bryk rumbled.
    “Only at Chartres.”
    His uncle lunged unexpectedly, but he quickly sidestepped the blow and returned the thrust.
    “Hmph! You have a feel for the weapon, I must admit. Didn’t inherit that from your father.”
    Did he dare? He decided to go for it. “Mayhap from my grandfather, then?”
    Bryk stopped in mid-thrust and glared, but then his expression softened and he came close to smiling. “Mayhap,” he agreed.
    Torstein’s spirits lifted. By rights, he should hate this man, but Bryk had never treated him cruelly. Truth be told, he’d been kinder than his own father. However, he sensed his uncle’s reluctance to fully recognize him as his nephew. It was hard for a Norseman to accept a slave into the bosom of the family, but it was important he win over his uncle if he wanted to be recognized as a worthy member of Viking society in this new land. Bryk would be the best possible champion.
    He prayed to Thor for strength as he went on the offensive, hoping his uncle wouldn’t retaliate by slicing him in two. Bryk Kriger would respect a man with courage and daring, but he too had suffered in the past for sticking to his convictions. Torstein would need to show his determination to be a fully-fledged warrior, a Viking worthy of Sonja Karlsdatter.
    He hacked and thrust, lungs on fire, arms aching, his feet somehow finding a life of their own as he dodged and wove. His size seemed to work to his advantage, speed proving to be as important as brute strength.
    To his relief, it was his uncle who called a halt, his brow furrowed. He’d never admit it, but he was out of breath.
    Again, Torstein summoned up his courage. “You’re getting old, onkel .”
    Bryk stared at him, but