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

sleep.”
    She nodded, clutching at Alvi. “She must have really hurt you, if you loved her,” she soothed.
    He paused, avoiding her glance again. “She did. And my parents-”
    “ Your parents what?”
    “ Disowned me. But anyway, why am I telling you all this? As long as you don’t tell anyone I’m here, you’ll be safe. Understand?”
    She nodded again and he strode off, cloak swishing around his ankles. Hastily covering her breasts, she scuttled off back home with her chives, glad for her lucky escape.
     
    *  *  *
     
    As Bjarni came home for lunch after supervising the ploughing in the fields, he passed a group of older boys laughing and jeering. Moving closer, he saw they were mocking a slave woman walking with a heavy bundle of wet clothes, kicking at her to make her trip. So he strode over.
    “ Why aren’t you in the fields helping?” he demanded of the boys, who avoided his eyes and shuffled their feet. Most of them held pouches of ale which they swigged carelessly. “This woman is doing her duty, but you aren’t. Get back to your work.”
    He went to help her, then realised it was Ifay. She shied away from him but he picked up the clothes anyway.
    More jeers from the youths as they walked away.
    “ Helping a slave.”
    “ Turning into a woman.”
    “ He’ll be cutting his hair off next.”
    He turned back towards them, lifting his spear and they hurried away, only needing that slight reminder of how much he, a trained Huskarl, could hurt them. So he continued walking with Ifay towards home.
    “ Why are you helping me?” she whispered.
    “ I don’t want my clothes falling into the mud.”
    They continued in silence, one of his strides equalling two of hers. When they reached the house, he put the clothes on the table.
    “ I need to hang them out to dry now,” she mumbled, avoiding his eyes. She picked up some of the clothes and scurried out to the washing line. An exclamation from her made him hurry outside.
    One side of the rope had fallen down and his tunic lay on the ground.
    “ I am sorry, master,” she stuttered, picking it up and brushing hopelessly at the stain.
    “ It’s not your fault.” He took the end of the rope and tied it to the post, stretching it to the limit.
    “ I will go and wash it again, after I have hung these other clothes out.” She did so with a well-practised air and he just watched, unable to tear his gaze away for some reason. Maybe it because she did it so gracefully or maybe he wanted to make sure his clothes didn't fall in the mud again.
    “ What’s it like where you came from?” Bjarni asked.
    “ Much warmer than here. It rains little, and the days are the same length all year round. They do not get shorter like they do here. I ...” She bit her lip.
    “ Go on.”
    “ I miss it. I wish I was still there.”
    “ Are you too cold here?”
    “ Always.”
    He went inside the house to the chest of clothes, digging about in it like a dog. “Here.” He came back with a fur tunic and offered it to her.
    “ I cannot wear that. It is your wife’s.”
    “ She’s never here. You need to keep warm.” He forced her to put it on, guiding her thin arms through the armholes and pulling it round her. His knuckles brushed her breasts.
    “ Do not touch me, you sex-mad man.”
    “ I didn’t! It was an accident.”
    They each hid their smile from the other and she continued hanging the washing out.
    “ Carry on telling me about your home,” he said.
    “ It is dry there. It does not rain for days like it does here. Much of it is desert.”
    “ Desert?”
    “ An area of sand, like your coast, but dry. No sea and hot.”
    “ Dry sand. Hm.”
    “ We do not have seasons like here. Every day is the same. We have no summer or winter.”
    “ I can’t imagine it.” He smiled and it pleased him when she smiled back.
     
    *  *  *
     
    Unaware that this cave had a history of secret lovers, it reminded Kjartan of his own past pleasures with Yngvild, meeting