Surrender My Love by Johanna Lindsey Read Free Book Online Page A

and before they were incarcerated, in case they need not be incarcerated at all. She hated the pit herself, with the brutality of it, the chains, the whips hanging on the walls, and the stink of the place, not just of foul odors, but of fear.
    Fortunately, prisoners were judged quickly, so they didn’t have to spend much time in the pit. And if men or women could not meet the fines of their crimes, then Erika preferred the local custom of enslaving them for a period of time, usually no more than a year, rather than Wulnoth’s custom of whipping them half to death.
    But spying was a different matter altogether, without a fine attached to it, since it dealt with war and defenses, and strategies gleaned that could wipe out whole armies. Hanging would be a merciful death for a spy caught in the midst of war, and since Erika had to deal with this one, she could be glad the wars were over and the charge not so serious in her mind. Ragnar, who had fought in those wars, would be of a different opinion. But he wasn’t here.
    Wulnoth was still there when the guard let her into the shed. One torch was burning, not enough to light the whole area, but enough to put a blanket of smoke over their heads and burn the eyes. She indicated that the door should be left open, making it easier to breathe. The pit was Wulnoth’s domain, but did he never have it cleaned?

    Turgeis settled inconspicuously against the wall that the door was set in, where the light barely reached. The prisoner was chained to the far wall, his arms stretched high above his head. But that was all that was seen of him, since the stocky Wulnoth stood directly in front of him, blocking him from her view. Wulnoth had, in fact, been gripping the man’s hair to hold his head up when she came in, but he let go now and stepped aside. The man’s head had already slumped to his chest, as if he were unconscious.
    Erika stiffened, her temper rising, but all she did was lift a questioning brow at Wulnoth, whose expression mirrored not guilt, but a definite degree of frustration.
    “He gives us naught but pretense, milady,” Wulnoth said in the local dialect.
    Erika had been teaching these people Danish, the language she wanted them eventually to use, but it was a slow process, and when she was not around, she knew they reverted to Anglo-Saxon. Wulnoth, in particular, clung to his own language even when she was present, and although she could understand it well enough, she refused to answer in kind, forcing him to switch to Danish or get no further conversation from her.
    It was typical of the man’s character to play this little game of dominance with her every time they had words together. She supposed he hoped to catch her up at least once, to hear her answer him in Anglo-Saxon. He would feel he had won some sort of victory over herif she did. It was a source of satisfaction to her that she never made that mistake.
    “He pretends ignorance of our language,” Wulnoth continued, “and he pretends to be so weak he cannot even stand, when you have only to look at him to see his strength.”
    Erika was looking at him, and Wulnoth was correct. The strength was there, couldn’t help but be there, in a very wide and muscular chest, and in the arms that stretched so tautly above his head that every thick cord in them stood out. And unnoticed before, because Wulnoth had stood in front of him, was that his feet did not dangle just above the floor, as the position of the chains was supposed to ensure. The man’s feet were planted firmly on the ground and his knees were actually bent, suggesting that he would tower over the captain if he were standing erect.
    So much for the puzzle of needing six men to get him here, Erika mused. A man this large and tall would weigh a very great amount, and these local men who now paid allegiance to her brother could not compare in size. But he was indeed pretending weakness. That, or mayhap he was just so exhausted he couldn’t remain awake. Less