As she waited for the winter to pass, Runa plotted her escape. She would steal one of the horses and ride into Thor Haklang’s land, after Ulfrik. But by the end of her first month of captivity, mornings left her weak and sick. Her monthly flow ceased, and she slept whenever she could; often when she should not have.
Runa’s grandmother had always said that a mother’s instinct was right, and Runa’s instinct was that she was with child. She did not know whose child it was, but instinctively felt it was Ulfrik’s. It comforted her to believe that. Her belly did not yet show, but it soon would.
Runa often talked to the horses, sharing her thoughts and plans with them. One Fjord horse, named Reykur for his smoky gray coat, was the most responsive. Stroking his neck, she whispered in his ears, “My dear friend, you’re going to have to take me away sooner than I planned. Can you do this for me? Even if the snow will freeze us? You are a brave horse, Reykur. You will save this woman and her baby.”
Reykur whickered and nuzzled her hand as she stroked his nose. Runa smiled, but it faded quickly. She had horse blankets for warmth, Reykur for transport, but not enough food stored for a journey. Also, she did not have any directions other than knowing she needed to head southwest.
The slave collar at her neck irritated her as she returned to her corner. As long as it remained, anyone finding her besides Ulfrik would take her for a slave. But the gods loved a bold plan, or so she had once heard.
***
Runa placed the tiny onion from her last meal in a sack under a saddle blanket, storing it for her journey. She would have to withhold food today for eating later, if she wanted to escape and survive. When the guard came to watch her exercise the horses, Runa paid close attention to him. He had grown morose, the routine boring him. He bore a scowl the entire time. Runa guessed he disdained the lowly nature of his task.
The day was bitterly cold, and Runa wrapped herself in a blanket as she walked the horses. She looked enviously at the smoke streaming from the main buildings to the south. Up on the hill, the hall where Bard and his family feasted looked gray and faded in the overcast light. Snow flurries, combined with the cold, would keep people indoors unless duties drew them outside. Runa thanked the gods for that small mercy.
She had five horses under her care, and Reykur was the last one she had to exercise. Her inattentive guard tucked himself deeper into his faded cloak, putting down his spear so he could warm his hands close to his body. Puffs of breath obscured his face. Runa smiled, and touched her belly. She carried Ulfrik’s child-some of his bold blood was in her now. She thrilled at the prospect of a daring escape, more certain than ever that the child was his.
The guard had positioned himself so that he could watch her whether in the stable or at work in the field. Runa glanced at him, and hot fear gripped her. She led the current horse back into the stable. Once inside, she did not put the horse away but instead fetched Reykur from his stall, tossed her makeshift sack of supplies across his back, and pulled herself up onto his back.
Reykur whinnied, surprised but easily calmed. With a deep breath, Runa leaned down close to Reykur’s mane, and reached across to slap the other horse in the rump.
“Now’s the time!” she screamed. Despite being weak from hunger and pregnancy, the moment flushed her with power. Panicked by her slap and the scream, the other horse bolted out the door. Runa kicked Reykur forward after him, throwing herself flat over his neck as they charged out the stable door.
Clearing the exit, Runa pinpointed the guard. He was not watching as the two horses burst out. Runa pointed Reykur at him and kicked the horse harder. He snorted at her insistence, the whites of his eyes showing. The horses had been bred for drawing sledges and light riding, not for barreling into an armed warrior.
“Just this once,” she called to Reykur. “Knock him down and we are free!”
The guard’s head snapped up as he heard the pummeling hooves of two horses galloping towards him. As Runa expected, the other horse followed Reykur. The two animals bore down on the guard before he could reach his spear.
Balking, the other horse screamed then pulled away, but Reykur, guided by Runa’s trembling hands, galloped onward. Runa shrieked in excitement. The guard dropped, scrabbling for his spear as Reykur pounded over the earth toward him.
Then the guard shot to his feet, his hand gripped tightly around his spear. Runa’s magnificent charge ended in that moment.
Reykur skidded in an attempt to avoid the guard and Runa’s furious kicking only adding to the animal’s terror. Her bag of supplies was flung to the ground as Reykur veered hard to the right and the guard scrambled out of the way. The horse reared, and Runa fought to keep her hands twisted in his mane.
“Bitch!” The guard sprang forward, wielding his spear like a club. He swiped at Runa, missing, as Reykur twisted and bucked in terror. Runa called his name and tried to calm him, but she had overestimated their rapport. Reykur continued to thrash.
The spear shaft connected with her shoulder, the heavy blow numbing her entire arm. Runa let go of Reykur, and her world tumbled upside down. She landed on her back, moaning beside her screaming, kicking horse. Reykur’s hooves thudded into the ground a short distance from her head, spraying mud across her face.
“Get up!” The guard slapped the horse with his spear and Reykur leaped forward and charged off behind the other horse. Runa lay still, facing the gray sky. Snowflakes alighted on her face, and a cold wetness seeped into her back. The guard appeared over her, the point of his spear glinting in the milky light.
“You crazy bitch! I should stick you right here. What were you thinking?”
Runa did not look at him, her eyes remained on the sky. “Lucky for you, I didn’t kill you like the last guard I slipped.”
“Well, you almost did.” He reached down and seized her arm. She followed limply as he yanked her up. “But no horse is going to charge a man with a spear, you fool. You better pray Frodi’s horses come back or I think Bard’s playtime with you is over.”
“I carry Bard’s child.” She said it easily, surprising even herself. The guard stepped away from her as if she carried the plague. “You better hope you didn’t kill his baby when you knocked me off the horse.”
The guard stood wide-eyed and still. Then he shook his head and cursed. “If he wants a bastard slave child, it’s not my business. You explain that to him. My orders are to keep you from running like the rat that you are, and I did.”
Runa smirked and swiped the mud from her face. It took all of her strength to appear uncaring. Despite her efforts, her bottom lip trembled and her eyes grew hot at the thought of losing Ulfrik’s baby. Behind the guard, she watched Reykur’s silver-gray rump as her only hope galloped away.
***
“A child? You are certain?” Bard’s face had flushed completely red and tears threatened to erupt from his eyes. “This news is … well…” He put his arms around her. “It is the greatest news of my life. It must be a son. That is what I want-a boy I can shape and teach.”
Runa nodded, refraining from saying anything more. The guard who had dragged her up to the hall stared bewildered over Bard’s shoulder to where Runa sat on the bed, her muddy skirt spoiling the clean linen. She let Bard ramble.
“You must be cared for, Runa. No more time in the stables. You will serve me in the hall, and sleep here as well. You need fresh clothing and a bath.” His nose crinkled with disdain. “You smell like a horse.”
“Do you wonder why? I should smell more like horse shit, since that is what you have left me with.” Bard flinched backward at her biting words. “What good is the bastard son of a slave to you? Take this collar off my neck. Make your son a freeman.”