Orm, still lying on his funeral bed, flashed into his mind, and Grim realized that he had yet to deal with his father’s corpse. Men like Snorri were likely upset with the delay. There would be no time for a proper burning at sea. Instead, Grim planned to bury him in sight of the hall with his war gear, some gold, and his slave girls. Then he could march north. It would be far from glorious, but he had to keep his agreement with Vandrad. One did not break faith with Harald and expect to survive long afterward.
Still, Grim remained positive about his plans. Auden was more a threat than Ulfrik, and Vandrad was right to prioritize Auden’s elimination. Ulfrik had a claim to Grenner, a claim far better than his own, but currently he lacked the military power to enforce that claim. Grim could deal with him later. He touched his bandages and scowled at the wound his brother had dealt him. One last insult, he thought. But you’re out of allies, Brother. Now you’re the one who has to hide in the woods. And I own the woods and everything around it.
Grim smiled, felt the pain flash, and then summoned Aud again. She said nothing, simply started undoing the bloodied bandages that moments ago had been fresh and white. Grim stared at her, searching for a sign that she suspected he would kill her. As always, Aud’s blank expression gave him nothing.
Ten
Runa hunkered in a corner of the slave hut. Another slave, Cara, lay sleeping on the dirt floor. The hut was hot with the stench of filth. For the two days Runa had spent locked inside, Cara mostly slept. There was nothing else for them, except to wait for death. Cara claimed she had not been freed since the day Runa fled.
The poison Aud fed Runa had not been strong, Runa had vomited most of it out the first night. Her head ached and her vision sometimes blurred, but she was otherwise unharmed. The lack of food kept her weak, but the plan for escape lent some strength to her pulse. Runa never stopped thinking about escape.
She had tried to tell Cara her plan, but the other girl was like a starved rat in a cage-more interested in snatching Runa’s moldy cheese than in escaping. In the days since Orm had died, Cara had grown skeletal. Runa never imagined anyone could waste away so fast. She knew she had also withered, but hope kept her flesh clinging to her bones.
This morning, Runa could hear Aud’s voice beyond the walls. Soon, a man unlocked the door and shoved in a tray. Runa regarded it with a raised brow. Nothing but bowls of murky water and hard wedges of cheese, and no doubt both poisoned to make her more compliant when the men came. Then they’d twist her neck and throw her on Orm’s funeral pyre or into his grave.
Runa crawled to the tray, poured out the water, and buried the cheese in the corner. Cara might dig it out, but Runa guessed that the men would come soon. She planned to act drugged, since they would expect it, and when she had deceived them she would run. The plan was simple-likely doomed to failure-but she could not devise anything more sophisticated. She wished she had more strength, despite trusting fear to give her legs for the escape.
Runa waited and watched. Beside her, Cara flinched and mumbled in her sleep. Runa tried to rouse her, but Cara just swatted at her and turned over. The hours passed. Soon, Runa heard voices approaching.
“Are you sure about this, Konrad?” asked a young man. There was a jingle of keys and the clank of the lock. On cue, Runa sprawled out as if in a stupor. She hoped they would not feel her throbbing heart when they picked her up.
“Just shut up and do what you’re told. Lord Grim put me in charge,” said the other voice, the man called Konrad. The lock ground open and white light peeled inside. “It smells like a dog’s ass in here! I just want the pretty one. Where is she?”
Runa dared not open her eyes. She could feel the two men encroaching on the cramped space, filling it to capacity. Rough, sweaty hands grabbed her leg. Reflexively, she pulled away. “Ho! Here she is, and still with some fight! The other is a hag. Leave her. Anyone looking?”
“No, sir,” said the young man. “I hope we don’t get caught.”
“No one’s going to care anyway,” Konrad said. The hands climbed up her back and hauled her over one of the man’s shoulders. Runa let her head flail and her limbs slacken. She faked a drugged smile and dared a peek. All Runa could see was the door to the slave hut as he carried her outside.
Konrad ran a short distance with the other man in the lead, seemingly headed for the barracks. Her body stiffened in fear. She had known Konrad’s mind the moment his lascivious hands grasped her legs, but had hoped it was not so.
Inside the dim barracks, Konrad threw her on a pallet. Her head thumped against the wall and she became nearly as dazed as she was pretending to be. Desperate, Runa spread her legs and laughed, holding her arms out, beckoning Konrad to come her. She knew this was her final chance at escape; success depended on her acting.
She squinted at her rapist as he dropped his sword to the floor with a clunk and grappled with his pants. All she could see was his yellow hair and wicked smile, and beyond, in her peripheral vision, the blurry shadow of a figure in the doorway.
Konrad, his breath and beard rank with the stench of mead and fish, wasted no time. Pushing up her skirt, he exposed her to his over-eager flesh. Runa had experienced this horror repeatedly from her Svear captors. She recoiled when Konrad shoved himself into her, and when she cried out, he laughed. “Feels good, don’t it, Princess?”
She thrashed her head as he pressed himself on her.
It was time.
As Konrad’s leering face lifted up momentarily mid-thrust, Runa snapped her head forward, flattening his nose with her forehead. Dazed as she was, she heard the sharp crack of bone followed by the spluttering of snot and blood. Konrad did not cry out. Rolling off her, both hands cupping his face, he hopped to his feet. Then he staggered and collapsed, screaming out a curse.
Runa dropped back onto the pallet. Now to get his sword, she thought. The other man rushed to Konrad’s aid, sparing no glance for her. He was frantic, asking repeatedly what had happened. While he did, Runa reached to the floor and grapsed the hilt of Konrad’s sword. She yanked it, drawing it out half way.
Then Konrad was on his feet again. Blood and spit smeared his beard and his eyes were black. “That whore headbutted me! I’ll strangle her!”
Runa did not fear the threat. She pulled out the sword to its full length as he lunged for her.
“Don’t do it, Konrad! The other man tried to stop him. “Lord Grim will be furious. You’ll get us both hanged.”
Shoving him away, Konrad jumped at her again. But he was careless. Faster than he could react, Runa braced the sword in front of herself. This time, his screech filled the barracks and he slithered to the floor. He was on his back, blood flooding from his gut where he had impaled himself.
“You killed him!” the other man screamed, standing over Konrad’s half-naked body and heaving as if he had run a mile. Leaping up, Runa scrambled for the door as the man tore his sword from its sheath. He was faster, pulling Runa up short, the sword’s point at her throat.
“You killed him!” The young man’s eyes relayed his terror. As he raised his sword to strike, Runa screamed.
“Stop!” Another, older warrior appeared in the doorway and Runa’s assailant froze, his sword still raised overhead. Runa crawled back onto the pallet, pulling her rags down over her hips. The two men blocked the only exit.