The Viking’s Sacrifice by Julia Knight Read Free Book Online

many ways they’re just like us, and in lots of ways they’re very different. You know they don’t see the raiding as stealing? Theft is an awful bad crime here, but the raiding is different to them. A challenge to a fair fight. It’s the same with the women when they raid. A vanquished foe needs to know they’re vanquished, and what’s the best way to prove their manliness? Aye, that’s it, proves to the Saxon men who’s stronger. But you ain’t a foe no more, you’re Sigdir’s property. This ain’t war, this is home and they do love their women, or rather women in bed. Lord, do they! Now some of them, they’ll take you to bed. Same as any man, Saxon or Norseman, some won’t care how you feel about it neither. You want to take care with those’un, but you’re Sigdir’s so they’ll have him to answer to if they hurt you. But there’s some who won’t care that you’re his, see, some who don’t need to care. Bausi’s the worst, and Sigdir’s his foster son and becoming just as bad, learning by example. Those two think they can take what they want, and they can, and ain’t no man in the fjord will stop them.”
    Wilda frowned at that. “He said that to take me as his bed-slave would dishonour me, and he wouldn’t. Myldrith, though—it would have been better if he’d taken me.” At least she knew what to expect, how it had been with Bayen.
    “Ah, yes, I seen you got a wedding ring. You’d know more about the bed than that young slip of a lass. It’s a man’s world, all right, wherever you are. But Agnar here says the men left you alone on the boat, which ain’t happening often, especially since Bausi. Maybe Sigdir’s going to ransom you?”
    “Not to my husband. Sigdir murdered him.” Even now, Wilda couldn’t summon up much to feel. Bayen had been a good man, had maybe deserved more from her, but Wilda had long ago realised that feelings were a hindrance.
    “Lord have mercy, you’re a cold one.”
    That stung. But what good would tears do for Bayen? She’d prayed for his soul, as she should, had been a good and faithful wife to him. What more was expected?
    Wilda stared into the fire, her eyes hot and dry. Tears were no good, no help for anyone. They weren’t practical, they hadn’t brought her mother back to life after the raid eight years ago, hadn’t helped her father with his grief or hatred. Tears didn’t matter, and she’d shed none since then. Sometimes it frightened her, the sense that the well inside her had run dry, that the echoing emptiness of her heart made her life a cold, bland thing. Sometimes she prayed to God to show her where she’d gone wrong, how to feel again, but He didn’t answer and that was her answer. Tears didn’t matter. Dealing with things did.
    “Aye, well, those two, Sigdir and Bausi, are the Devil himself.” Bebba crossed herself hurriedly. “Cursing this place, they are. All the young men look to them, see, because Bausi’s the jarl, and they’ve all sworn to their gods that they’re his men. They wear his rings on finger and arm to prove it. These heathens—that’s in their blood, see, in their head. Different from good Christian folk. An oath is their word, and they won’t break it.”
    She patted Wilda’s hand absently. “Aye, it’s a different thing. Now there’s many a lady takes a man to bed she don’t love. That’s just the way things are, there’s no help for it, and I see you knows that already. It helps if she likes him though. See, and I may be a thrall like you but I been here a time, nigh on three years now, and Agnar sees me right. I like him, and he’s promised Sigdir he’ll keep you here, and safe. He’ll look out for you. You do as he says, work hard, and you’ll be fine. Maybe even buy yourself free, in time. I almost got enough, four ounces of the six I need. Agnar here lets me sell the extra ale I make.”
    Wilda looked at Bebba properly for the first time. She too was older than she first appeared, more