Ragnar & the Slave Girls (Ragnar the Dane) (13 page)

“
We'd better check.”

The door seemed to be stuck, so it took Bjarni a few attempts to break through it. He burst in to find a silent, cold house with no sign of blood or fighting. The door had simply swelled in the seasonal dampness.

“
It’s alright,” he called to Gytha. “They aren’t here.”

She crept in, peering around.

“
So where are they, then?”

*  *  *

In the main cavern, the sorceress examined Ragnar, peering into his eyes and pulling at his hair and beard as he lay unconscious.

“
Hm,” she said. “He’s not what we want.”

She turned to the wolf men. “You’ve failed. You need to bring me someone to help our cause."

The men avoided her eyes and shuffled their feet.

"Well? What is your excuse?"

They backed away from her but she slapped the nearest one in the face and he cowered.

“
Take him away. He may be useful later,” she ordered, indicating Ragnar. "What about the woman he was with? Bring her instead."

*  *  *

Later that day, Bjarni hurried home. He’d been so deep in thought while overseeing the crop planting that Steinar questioned him, but he didn’t reveal why he was so distracted.

Reaching the front door, he stepped through it with a lift of his spirits, but Saehild waited inside.

“
What do you want?” he snapped in frustration.

“
A nice way to greet your wife.” She sneered. “I need some clothes.”

“
Clothes? Why?”

“
I just do.” She staggered to the clothes chest and rummaged through it, pulling everything out onto the floor.

Ifay tiptoed through the door, her lips pursed.

“
You need to keep this house tidier,” instructed Saehild. “It’s a mess.”

“
Only because you’ve thrown clothes over the floor,” retorted Bjarni. “Ifay does a good job keeping it clean. Better than you ever did.”

“
Oh? Taking the side of the slave against me?” Saehild mocked, swaying. “I’m staying here tonight, so you’d better remember who your wife is.” She glared at Ifay, who glared back, to Bjarni’s amusement.

“
So, you stay out every night, then expect me to welcome you back?” he said.

“
I am your wife, so yes, I do.”

He’d hoped the night would progress differently to this. A cruel idea crossed his mind.

“
Well, sit down. Have some ale and a rest by the fire.”

“
Thank you.”

He fetched the ale and settled her down in the chair.

“
What are you doing?” asked Ifay, confused.

“
She will sleep now.”

“
Why? What?”

He indicated Saehild, who leaned back in her chair while her eyelids drooped further and further. At last her tongue was silent. He waited, and tried not to smile at the trick he’d played on her.

After a few minutes, light snores resounded across the house. With a glance at Saehild to make certain she slept, he drew Ifay to him and her protruding bones rubbed against his clothes.

“
Can’t we carry on where we left off?”

“
But what if I have a baby? You would disown me, sell me, say the child is not yours. I cannot do it.”

“
I promise I won’t do that.” He pressed her against him, her underfed body half the width of his.

He took out a knife from his belt, without noticing her eyes widen in fear. Taking a lock of his hair, he sliced it off.

“
This is my promise. I won’t disown you, sell you or anything like that.” He pushed the hair into her hand. “I’ll look after you.”

“
I thought you were going to ...” She eyed the knife so he put it away again.

“
What? Hurt you? Never.”

He gazed into her eyes, fell into their dark depths, kissed her for the first time. She tasted unfamiliar, sour, but her trembling fragile body against his produced the same effect as before. He kissed her gently, exploring her mouth, his beard rasping against her soft skin, trying not to frighten her, but still she shook.

“
It won’t be like the last time,” he whispered. “I swear it.”

She nodded hesitantly, so he led her to the bed and slowly undid her plain apron, letting it fall to the floor, then lifted her shift dress carefully over her head. She stood naked in front of him, looking down at the floor.

Still gazing at her, he ripped his own clothes off, not caring if he tore them. A smile played on her lips as she gazed at his body, her glance drawn down to his erection.

“
I’ve never seen one before.” Transfixed, she stared at it.

“
Haven’t you?”

“
Usually it all happens so quick, I never knew what it was they put in me.”

“
Come on, you’re shivering.”

He scrambled onto the bed, holding out his hand to help her up. He threw the covers over them both, hugging her to him, his cock pushing towards her with a life of its own. But he kissed her instead, her lips, her neck, her collarbone. He crouched over her, slowly moving his tongue down to her breasts, the small mounds hardly rising from her chest. Her skin was a glossy warm brown, her nipples darker. He’d never seen a woman like this before close up. She observed his body against hers.

“
We’re so different. You’re so pale - I’m so dark.”

“
Mm.”

He moved to the side and ran his hand down her waist and hips to her thigh, moving inwards to caress between her legs, pushing a finger inside her before she could catch her breath.

“
What are you doing?” she gasped. “What is that?”

“
My finger. Want me to stop?” He gently pushed it in and out, forcing groans from her lips.

“
You make fun of me. Nobody puts his finger inside me.”

“
What usually happens?” He breathed as fast as she.

“
The – the - Oh! The man puts that thing – Oh! - inside me and it–it hurts and then it is over.”

He paused.

“
I’m sorry I did it too, I’m - I won’t do it like that again.”

“
I-I am scared.”

“
It’s alright.” He carefully moved his finger in and out of her, making squelching noises. She gazed up at him and groaned with pleasure, then giggled at the funny sounds.

He continued, harder and faster as she encouraged him with her groans and gasps, her wetness, her tightness. Then he put two fingers in, making her cry out with pleasure on the verge of pain.

She shuddered against him and he held her, trembling as much as she.

“
What the hell are you doing?” said a sharp voice, and Ifay peered round him to see Saehild, her eyes narrowed.

Bjarni rolled onto his side. “What does it look like?”

“
Fucking the slave? I’m your wife. You should be fucking me!”

Before Bjarni could answer, Ifay did.

“
You are never here! Who do you think takes care of him all the time? Who cooks, cleans, talks to him?”

“
You’re just a slave. You have no importance in this house. Tell her, Bjarni!”

He lay back, one hand behind his head, the other idly fiddling with his balls.

The silence grew, until at last Saehild turned on her heel and flounced out.

“
Should I leave now?” quavered Ifay.

“
No, stay, please. I want you to stay, not her. She can go and jump in the lake.” He put his arms round her tightly, again admiring the difference between their skin colours. “I don’t know why I married her.”

Gazing into his blue eyes, she grinned. Used to being ignored all the time and in the background, her heart lifted at the gentle smile on his face.

She hadn’t ever lain with a man lovingly before; it had always been brutal and rough with her masters, her master’s sons or brothers. Some had been gentle like Bjarni, but most not.

But then she gasped, clutching at him.

“
What’s the matter?”

“
I saw something.”

“
What?”

“
A red-haired man and a dark-haired woman. They’re in trouble.”

“
Who?”

“
I get these feelings sometimes. They are near stone or rock. You must hurry.”

“
Where?”

“
You have to believe me. Please! I’m not pretending.”

Bjarni stroked his beard, frowning.

*  *  *

Kjartan and Aelfwyn prepared to step out of their cave but then the men bearing the body of Ragnar came in.

She rushed over to check her beloved husband but a man immediately captured her. She struggled in his arms but slumped with relief at the sight of Ragnar’s chest rising and falling.

Before Kjartan could do anything, however, another man punched him to the ground. Aelfwyn’s captor dragged her out of the small cave and along to the main cavern.

She looked round. The huge cavern had an uneven floor with rock shelves along the sides of it. Shadowy figures of people could be seen, some lying down, perhaps dead, some sitting watching, and some couples moving together in a familiar rhythmic way. Groans echoed round the cavern. Groans of pleasure, groans of despair, groans of pain. Aelfwyn shuddered.

On the main floor, a circle of men watched her. The sorceress stood in the centre of them, waving her arms.

“
Here is another offering,” she cried, looking at Aelfwyn, then frowned. “Is this good breeding stock?”

She turned to the men who brought Aelfwyn in and they shuffled their feet.

Aelfwyn hid a smile. Thank God for her small size and unpromising appearance.

“
I can’t believe she can bear children.”

A wolf man hurried into the cavern.

“
Mother.” He addressed the sorceress. “She brought forth nourishing milk. I tasted it.”

The other men mumbled and stared at him, then at Aelfwyn.

“
Quiet! She will do, then. I will prepare her.” She advanced on the young English woman, a cruel smile upon her face.

*  *  *

In the smaller cave where captives were held, Ragnar awoke, sitting up on the hard rocky floor. He tried to move and found his wrists tied to someone.

“
It’s only me, Kjartan. Somehow, we ended up bound back to back.”

“
What about Aelfwyn?”

“
They want her to have their babies.”

“
What? She can’t do that! She can’t have any more children!”

“
Can’t she? Why?”

“
It would be too dangerous. Never mind that, let’s find her.” He strained at the ropes.

“
Don't bother. What do you think I’ve been doing? I broke my last bonds so they’ve tied them extra-tight.”

They paused for a rest.

Ragnar realised Kjartan was shaking. “It’s alright.” He moved his elbow up and down Kjartan's, the best reassuring pat he could give in the circumstances.

“
Is it? It looks pretty desperate to me. I’ve met gangs like this before. They want to overthrow the order of things and impose their own rules. This lot seem to worship Fenrir.”

“
Fenrir? The one who’s supposed to kill Odin at Ragnarok?”

“
Yes, that’s him. They want to bring about Ragnarok, end the world and let Fenrir take over.”

Ragnar’s jaw dropped.

“
I just thought of something. Don’t tell them your name’s Ragnar, whatever you do. Ragnar and Ragnarok. They’ll think you’re on their side and use you somehow.”

“
Good idea.”

“
And I know we’ve had our differences in the past but you aren’t going to kill me, are you?”

“
If you don’t kill me.” Ragnar had been expecting a knife in the back ever since he met Kjartan again.

“
I promise. We need to stick together. These people are insane.”

Chanting outside became louder.

“
Sounds like they are doing something. It must be something to do with Aelfwyn.”