Ragnar & the Slave Girls (Ragnar the Dane) by Lily Byrne Read Free Book Online

melt out of the rock and slink down the sides of the cavern, picking their way.
    When they reached the ground, there were at least thirty young men between the ages of fourteen and twenty. All short-haired, beardless, dressed in worn-out clothes, with muscles developed by manual labour: they must have been slaves.
    “ This is my woman,” announced Ljotr. “You must do as she says.”
    Murmurs of agreement.
    “ Tell them to do something,” he whispered to her.
    “ Sit down!” she commanded, and they did, crossing their legs and sitting at her feet.
    “ I would like something to drink,” she continued.
    More murmurs of agreement.
    Two of them stood up and fetched a large, gently steaming vessel. The arm muscles of the dark-haired one in the sleeveless tunic bulged.
    The pair dipped cups into the bowl, and the one she admired brought her the first cup. He bowed, his black hair thick and wavy, and she inclined her head regally. This was so different to her normal life where she had to serve drinks to everyone else.
    Ljotr sat next to her.
    “ What is this place?” she asked, sipping her wine.
    “ It’s where I live. These are all my brothers.”
    “ All of them?”
    “ Well, not blood brothers. We have the same beliefs.”
    “ Like what?”
    “ We hate the rules of the Danes and English. We believe there are too many laws and they stop us from being as free as we should. Christianity is a bad influence and we should go back to Old Norse ways.”
    “ What?”
    “ We don’t like the rules of the Danelaw. We like our freedom now.”
    She glanced round to see some of the young men playing a drinking game, while others were wrestling. Movement caught her eye above two writhing figures on one of the ledges, man on top of woman. She smiled indulgently at their fun.
    “ Yes, we do what we like living here,” said Ljotr, following her glance. “No marriage or loyalty to relatives, just loyalty to our friends.” He raised his glass to her.
    She drained her cup. 
    “ More wine!” she shouted, and immediately a man brought her some.
     
    *  *  *
     
    Aelfwyn smiled to see the entrance to the cave in which she and Ragnar had first made love. The ‘secret lovers’ cave’, she called it privately. Maybe Alvi’s life started there. He slept now, against her breast, the walking motion along the river lulling him into dreams. Could it be only a year since she and Ragnar went there to hide from tattling tongues in the villages? How much her life had changed since she was a young girl who never imagined marriage in her future, let alone a child. Would Alvi really be her only one? Feelings struggled within her: happiness, regret, curiosity.
    Although the late spring weather was sunny, sudden gusts of cold wind still blew. Tired of getting wet all winter, she hoped for a dry spring and summer, but on the other hand, they needed rain for the crops.
    Musing on this as she searched for the herbs she needed, the crack of a branch made her jump.
    “ Hallo, tiny woman.”
    She froze, unable to take another step, her heart leaping into frantic pounding. Only one person ever called her that. She stared round, jerking her head like a bird hearing danger.
    “ I’m up here.”
    She gazed up to see a figure with white blond hair sitting on the slope above the caves. Kjartan.
    “ Long time, no see.” He stared at her, then began scrambling down the rocky ground, his scuffed boots dislodging small stones and grass, his cloak catching on twigs.
    Aelfwyn found her legs could move again, and she struggled to walk across the uneven ground, the weight of the sleeping Alvi hampering her. The loose stones near the river forced her to step carefully even though every muscle screamed at her to run as fast as she could from the man who’d tried to rape her and framed her husband for murder.
    The ground gave way before her feet and she staggered, clutching at thin air to save herself and her child. Alvi woke and screamed as she