In their absence, Runa reached the limits of her patience and began to pound the walls and kick the doors, which made the horses nervous. She would bring someone to her, or force the horses to kick down the stable walls. She was pounding so furiously that she did not hear the bar lift. When the door opened, her fist flew through the opening and slammed into Bard’s chest. It was nothing to a grown man, and Bard grabbed her arm and yanked it down. “Quiet, girl! You are going to drive the horses mad.”
“The horses? What about me? I’m no better than a horse to you!”
Bard’s face flushed, but he wore a stern expression as he pulled her out of the stable into the wan light of day. He was dressed as he had been on the first day Runa had met him. His fine clothes and golden pin in sharp contrast to her soiled dress. The air was crisp, and the breeze was like cool water on her face. She had become so used to the fetid air of the stables that she had forgotten the clean taste of the outdoors.
Bard ignored her question. “I’m sorry you had to be kept here alone for so long,” he said in a low voice. “It was the safest place for you.”
Runa stopped resisting, blowing her matted hair out of her eyes before she spoke. “I heard the sounds of battle. Where are Ulfrik and the others?”
Bard looked away, his face deepening red. “They have left.”
Runa’s shoulders slumped and her expression froze. She wanted to believe she had misheard, but she knew she had not. Her mouth formed a few words, but no speech came. Frodi had banished Ulfrik. She had been left behind.
“I would have come to you earlier, but I was recovering from my injuries,” Bard said.
If he has been in a battle, Runa thought, he looks well rested for it.
He put his arms on her shoulders, as if to comfort her, but the coldness of his hands made her more anxious.
“Ulfrik’s brother came, and a terrible battle resulted. I led the men in the defense and drove them back to the woods. I took a serious blow to the head. Were it not for my helmet I might have died.” He paused, searching Runa’s face for sympathy or admiration.
He found neither.
“Ulfrik lived?” she asked. “What of the others? Magnus?”
Bard’s grip on her shoulders tightened for a moment. He looked at the ground and then attempted to pull her into a comforting hug as he told her of Magnus’s death. Runa remained stiff, her face slick with dirty tears. The news flashed hot anger through her joints. She shoved Bard back, not caring whether she offended a noble. “You imprisoned me in a stable while my friends fought and died! You wouldn’t even let them see me before you chased them off. How dare you try to comfort me!”
“It’s not like that, Runa,” Bard said. “I was recovering from my wound. And there were still enemies about after the battle. They scattered everywhere. You had to be kept safe. I couldn’t come to you.”
“Keep me safe? By putting me in a stable where any enemy would come to steal a horse?” Runa’s dark eyes glinted in the sunlight. “I am not an ignorant farm girl; I am the daughter of a lord ten times more noble than your father. You kept me here because you thought it a safe place to prevent me from going with them.”
“You’re not thinking clearly. Everything is as I said. It was for your protection.”
Runa snorted, folding her arms across her chest. “No one was attacking the night your guards threw me in here like a bale of hay. You wanted to keep Ulfrik away.”
To Runa’s surprise, Bard had not struck her yet. She was ready for it, her cheek itching where she expected the blow, but he merely shook his head and laughed. “Do you think he cared one whit for you?”
“He loved me, and he gave me my freedom.” Runa turned up her chin defiantly.
“I was ashamed of my father’s actions that night,” Bard said, looking around as if to be certain no one listened. “I told Ulfrik that myself, and I presented a bargain. I offered your freedom in return for his sword. He wouldn’t do it; the weapon was too precious to him. So I offered him an opportunity to rescue you. He said he had already risked too much and could chance no more. You see? I tried to help, but Ulfrik was not willing.”
Runa kept her arms folded as she listened to Bard’s ranting. When he finished, she glared at him, her face stony, before saying, “That was a lot for someone who barely survived a blow to the head.”
Bard stepped back as if he had been struck, and Runa smiled in satisfaction. Slave or not, she would not tolerate being treated like a fool. Not only did the facts not align but neither did Ulfrik’s supposed actions; he would love a daring plan if offered one.
Bard’s face glowed like a red-hot coal, and his hands flexed. Expecting violence, Runa unfolded her arms and stepped back, but Bard gave nothing beyond a prolonged sigh. “He feared my father, and he was right to,” Bard said. “He left and asked that I take care of you. I promised I would.”
Tears began to bead at Runa’s eyes. Maybe Bard is telling the truth.Maybe Ulfrik toyed with me. He loves his sword beyond understanding, and Frodi is too powerful to challenge. She found herself shaking her head at the thought, and sniffed back a sob. It was an ugly sound to her, made more so by her desperation. “He gave me my freedom,” she croaked. “I am not a slave. I am not.”
Bard again placed his hands on her shoulder, the redness receding from his face. “You will be well treated, Runa. But while my father’s mood is dark, it is best you remain out of sight. After a time, we can speak again of freedom.”
She looked up into Bard’s eyes at those words; they were clear and blue, as Ulfrik’s had been the day he promised her the same thing. But her freedom had to wait then, as it had to wait now. Runa wiped her nose and face with her sleeve. No man would give her freedom. She knew Bard lied, even as he smiled and made empty promises.
Enfolding her in his arms, Bard began to murmur words of comfort, but she did not return his embrace. She stood weeping as Bard’s hand slid up her back, finding the slave collar, then entwining her hair. His other hand slipped to her waist, then to her hips. Runa stilled, feeling him press against her. He was still whispering, although she did not listen. Slowly, he had led her back into the stable and shut the door with his foot. His hand had gathered up her tattered dress at the back and was working beneath it. Runa could find no strength to resist. What would be the point?
Bard did not even look at her as he pulled her to the ground. Runa shuddered once before surrendering to him-surrendering hope of ever gaining her freedom.
***
Ulfrik had not been on the open seas for more than a year. Under different circumstances, he would have been exuberant. This day, however, he frowned as he manned the oars of Thor Haklang’s longship, the War Dragon. It would take two days of good weather to reach Thor’s home. They hugged the coastline, Thor singing a coarse song as he steered. His men joined in, laughing. Ulfrik, his head held low, remained silent and rowed all the harder. Seated on a chest next to him, Yngvar also maintained a grim silence. Ulfrik could feel the accusations of his men at his back. Paying taxes to a foreign king paled beside actual slavery. Their lives had been destroyed for their loyalty to him.
Night approached, and Thor guided his ship to the shore. Ulfrik heard the splash of men leaping overboard into the shallows to haul the boat onto the shingle. Once they beached the ship, their captors leveled spears and guided Ulfrik and his crew to Thor, who waited up where the beach met the dune grass. He stood with arms folded over his heavy belly, a black bulk in the dying sunlight. All around him, men started making camp.
Ulfrik stood defiantly before Thor.
“Now that we’ve left Frodi behind, we can talk clearly.” The berserker gave a thin smile then unfolded his arms as if to welcome him. “For starters, the lot of you can stop sulking. None of you are slaves any more than I am.”