A Pound of Flesh Read online

  The estate was like a barracks with many men wearing leather armor, their helms ready to be donned at a moment’s notice. They spoke in booming voices and made rude comments to one another, jesting as only fighting men could do after a successful battle. Most were idling about in clumps, but some were reinforcing the scaffolding that had been used so effectively by Birgir’s men in repelling our attack.

  The stench and death cries from the battle still hung in the air. I shied away from the dark stains where blood had spilled. The demon that had infested Birgir had dissipated, leaving behind a raw wound in the land. The inua of the slain warriors had already gone to the Otherworld, but the violence had torn the fabric of life. Little wonder the cheerful olfs avoided the estate. I wanted to flee as well, leaving the place to heal in peace.

  We went straight to the fire hall, which sat on the crest of the hill. It bristled with the horned skulls of bulls that Ejegod’s family had sacrificed to the gods throughout generations of their rule. The latest addition was nailed directly to one of the huge doors—Silveta’s sacrifice to celebrate our victory over Birgir. Shredded pieces of pink flesh still clung to it, and flies buzzed around eagerly.

  Inside the fire hall, several women were embroidering banners with Silveta’s new signet, the bull quartered with a seabird to honor Jens. Others were sewing the dress Silveta would wear at their wedding.

  Aside from the empty rafters, stained black with smoke and age, the hall had looked much the same under Silveta’s first husband, Chieftain Ejegod. The women were cleaning the trestle tables after the morning meal, and a trace of tinkling laughter could be heard through the kitchen doors under the solar. The servants were pleased by the return of their freya. Life under Birgir had been brutal, and many of the servants had escaped the estate. There were a few women who went about with their heads bowed, unable to meet anyone’s eyes, traumatized by what they had seen and been forced to do.

  Silveta was seated on the chieftain’s chair made of walrus tusks, cushioned with snow lynx fur. Jens had not disputed her right to it. Silveta’s betrothed would likely become chieftain, as befitted the conquering hero, but his wife would run the estate bequeathed to her in her marriage contract with Ejegod. She had fought hard for that right and would not likely give it up to anyone, not even to her beloved Jens.

  The candles on the high table lit Silveta’s yellow hair, braided into a crown around her head. She had woven the strands with pink and lavender crystals. Her immaculate dress was embroidered with tiny violets on the neckline and wide sleeves. She was the embodiment of the goddess Freya herself. But Silveta always looked regal, even when she had been crouched in an open knaar crossing the ocean.

  When Silveta saw us approach the dais, she put down her stilo. "Well, was it a success?"

  "Vidaris is no more," Lexander answered.

  "And your consort?" Silveta asked delicately.

  "She is no longer a concern." He reminded her, "I must leave it to you to ensure that no other pleasure house is established here."

  Silveta nodded, glancing at me. She had despised my subservience from the moment we met, but she had still used me to serve her own purpose. "I would hate to ever see another pleasure house in any of the western maritime lands. Jens will have to convince the overlord, but I’ll make it a key point when I send my trade delegation to Kebec."

  "I must speak to Jens, then," Lexander decided. "I’ll be leaving immediately. There are other houses I must tend to in the Auldland before word spreads of what I’ve done. But be forewarned, the ship from Stanbulin will arrive within another moon. They will track down the servants, and someone is bound to report that I came here. You must never admit to seeing me this summer."

  "So you cannot stay," she agreed thoughtfully. "But surely you will be able to return soon?"

  "Next summer." Lexander touched my cheek. "I can stay away from Marja no longer than that."

  I raised my brows. "But I’m going with you."

  "No, it’s far too dangerous," Lexander said with a sad smile. "I will be able to move faster and more safely without you. And I’ll not risk having you near other masters."

  "Definitely not, Marja," Silveta agreed, more vehemently than Lexander. "I can tell how much you hate what just happened in Vidaris. Stay here with me. I need you to deal with the Thule as they settle the northern coast. You’re the only one who can translate for me."

  Lexander nodded, pleased by Silveta’s support. I inclined my head rather than argue with them; the most important thing now was to help the Vidaris slaves. Niels was sniffling and trying to hide behind me. The two brothers were leaning against each other to keep from falling down.

  I gestured to them. "Can you help my former slave-mates, Silveta? They’re from Viinland."

  "The mercenaries are heading south today. These three can go along, if they wish," Silveta offered. "Jens just took the lot of them down to the docks."

  "Many thanks, Silveta," Lexander said quietly. "That will fulfill my last obligation to them."

  But I had one more concern. "Why do those women beg at the waterfront, Silveta? Surely there is enough for all."

  Her mouth pursed in annoyance. "I couldn’t very well let them stay in the estate, Marja. They’re Birgir’s people, and they saw their men die yesterday. Jens says they’re a risk to both of us."

  I remembered the tearstained faces of the children. "They’re not to blame for Birgir’s deeds."

  "They were eager enough to take the homes of our bondsmen who were slain by that butcher," Silveta retorted. "We have no room for them here, nor have I any desire to succor such folk in my bosom. I’ve given them the land where they first settled on their arrival, across the bay. Jens has ordered some of his men to build longhouses for them."

  "But . . . ’twill be a terribly cold, windblown place in the winter. I can’t imagine children living there."

  Silveta waved off my sympathy. "Any mercenary who swears as my bondsman can take a wife from among them, if that’s his wish. As to the others, they are not my people and never have been. My responsibility is to my own, Marja."

  Silveta exchanged an exasperated glance with Lexander. They thought I was unreasonable for being concerned about everyone who crossed my path. But how could I ignore the misery before my eyes?

  We hurried back down to the waterfront to see Jens. It was much busier than when we had first arrived, with the mercenaries now thronging the wooden docks. It was a fearsome sight, and I was glad they were merely preparing to return to their homes rather than readying for another fight.

  Jens was easy to find because of his banner carried on a tall pole by a bearer. Usually a grinning olf sat on the bobbing crossbar, but today there were none to be seen. The crimson banner was quartered by the crest of his father, the Overlord of Viinland, while the upper half held his personal signet. The white seabird was a fitting symbol for the boy who had grown up on a rocky isle in the midst of Straumsey Bay.

  Jens was a young man still, for all that he had accomplished. He looked quite boyish without his helm, his auburn hair flying freely about. His eager, sun-kissed face was beardless and showed the enthusiasm of youth, yet the mercenaries treated him with the utmost respect, as a victorious leader deserved.

  When Jens saw us approach, he broke away from the cluster of mercenaries who were receiving their pay. "I saw your longship and knew you had returned." His voice lowered. "How did you fare?"

  Lexander answered, "The estate is no more, but another pleasure house will be built unless you can convince the overlord to forbid it."

  "Ah, I will make sure of that." He glanced at me. "I always felt sorry for the pleasure slaves who were brought to the bastion to tempt my father."

  "Jedvard never invited Vidaris to entertain in his house," Lexander reminded him. "So likely you’ll find him receptive."

  The brothers from Hop were much more awake now, excited by the hubbub of mercenaries preparing to depart. But Niels was panic-stricken, darting glances from side to s
ide as if fearing he would be trampled at any moment.

  "These young men are former slaves of mine," Lexander explained. "They need to go back to their families in Hop. Would they travel safely in the company of your mercenaries?"

  "I have a good man I can entrust them to," Jens said. "The boys will not be harmed under his charge."

  Jens began searching for the men he had in mind, seemingly not realizing that he was the same age as "the boys."

  I asked them, "Are you sure you want to return to Hop?"

  "Yes," the brothers said as one.

  But Niels’ face crumpled. "What’s wrong?" I urged. "Tell me, Niels."

  "My father will beat me for failing. I know it." His hands twisted in the hem of his short tunic.

  "Then you’ll stay here," Lexander declared, as if the matter was settled. He ushered the brothers after Jens without glancing back at Niels. They quickly disappeared into the sea of mercenaries.

  I thought it was done too hastily. Niels, not Lexander, should have decided his own fate. Niels took hold of my hand in a tight grip. "What am I to do, Marja?"

  It was too late now. I would have to make sure Niels would be cared for properly. "Come, Niels. I have an idea."

  We climbed back up the steep streets of Tillfallvik, trying to avoid the mud churned by the mercenaries’ boots. I was pleased to smell baking and hear the voices of children playing again. The olfs were much more plentiful in town than down on the waterfront among the mercenaries or on the estate, where the fiercest fighting had taken place.

  Niels silently followed without questioning my intent. He would do whatever I told him without a thought for himself. He had always been overly dependent.

  I went straight to the fire hall, where Silveta had not moved from her post. She was writing furiously, and a pile of papers covered the table before her. "I’m recalling all the magnates to Tillfallvik. Not only is there the wedding, but we need to settle this matter of chieftain. Has Jens sent off the mercenaries yet?"

  "Soon," I assured her. "He’s finishing his payments to them now."

  She frowned slightly at the thought of the expense, but quickly shook that off. "It is well worth it. We have an abundant land."

  "There’s something I must ask of you." I drew Niels forward. "This is Niels. He needs a place where he can be useful and protected. He could serve you well, Silveta, since he writes with a fine hand and can read for you."

  Her raised brow of skepticism changed to interest. "He can write? I didn’t realize Lexander taught his slaves the finer arts of knowledge."

  "Niels learned before coming to Vidaris," I explained. "He assisted Lexander from time to time as a scribe."

  Silveta glanced at the pile of parchment. "I do need someone to copy this letter for me, and to write what I dictate." She looked down at Niels. "Can you do that for me?"

  "Oh yes, freya!" Niels’ eyes were shining at the thought of serving such a fine lady. "I will please you, I swear."

  Silveta smiled at his eagerness. "Then go to the kitchens and tell them you’re to be given some proper clothes. I can’t have you working in that," she said with a laugh, pointing at his brief tunic.

  For a moment I worried about the brothers from Hop. But surely Lexander would not send them home wearing only their short tunics and blankets around their shoulders. I nodded to Niels, who waited eagerly for my permission to go. "You serve Silveta now, Niels. But remember, you’re not her slave."

  "Certainly not!" Silveta agreed with a slight shudder. "I’ve a mind to free all the slaves in Markland."

  Niels ran off to the kitchens, the first spark of joy in his face that I had seen in a very long time. "Thank you, Silveta. You’ll be the saving of him, for he will always be a child at heart."

  "I’ll make sure he’s cared for," Silveta agreed seriously. "But, Marja, why do you ask for nothing for yourself?"

  I took a deep breath. "I have one request."

  "Name it, and you shall have it."

  I met her eyes firmly. "I can’t stay here while there are other slaves who need my help. Look at Niels! He would have been lost without me."

  "But the Thule—"

  "You’ll have to find someone else to translate for you," I interrupted. "Send for one of my siblings in Jarnby, if you like."

  Silveta was not accustomed to being rebuffed. "I only want you to be safe, Marja. You’ve come to mean so much to me."

  "I’ve helped you in every way I can," I reminded her. "Our land is safe because of it. But now it’s time for me to leave."

  Silveta toyed with the stilo, tapping it on the table. At last, she had to agree. "If that is what you wish, Marja."

  4

  I was not the only one who requested a boon of Silveta that day. Lexander returned from the waterfront and formally petitioned the use of one of the oceangoing knaars that had brought Birgir and his people to Markland. In exchange for his passage to Danelaw, Lexander land. In exchange for his passage to Danelaw, Lexander agreed to broker a trade of Silveta’s surplus goods for luxury items that could be obtained only in the Auldland.

  Silveta discussed the arrangements with Lexander for some time while I watched Niels happily run errands for her and commence the copying of the letters to the magnates. On his way out, Lexander caressed my cheek, his fingers so gentle and loving that I closed my eyes in contentment. He was too reserved to often be affectionate, and rarely before others. His simple touch was a sign of his much deeper feelings.

  "I’ll come with you to help make the arrangements," I offered.

  But Lexander wouldn’t let me rise. "It’s dirty, heavy work, loading a ship—not meant for you."

  He strode off, determined keep me away. I had resolved to go, but little could be gained from pressing my point now.

  So I watched Lexander’s progress from the hilltop in front of the estate. Lexander rowed among the knaars of Birgir’s fleet and selected the sturdiest craft. With help from the oarsmen from Vidaris, they unfurled the yellow-striped sail to make sure it was sound. Then they rowed the heavy ship into the deepest dock to load it with supplies and trade goods.

  The olfs were merry at the renewed bustle. With the mercenaries departed, they were free to indulge in their antics on the docks, though they continued to shy away from Lexander as if shunning a dark void.

  I held on to the Thule arrowhead until I knew its curves and sharp edges like my own hand. At sunset, when day and night were about to touch, I returned to the estate. I went to the meadow Silveta and I had run through the night we escaped from Birgir. The old fence on that side had been torn down and replaced by the much taller palisade.

  I knelt down and dug a deep hole near where we had gone over the fence. I opened myself to the land as the wet dirt shifted through my fingers. There were still sickening reverberations left behind by Birgir’s demon.

  I took the tip of the Thule arrowhead and pressed it into the soft flesh of my arm, just below the crease of my elbow. Taking a deep breath, I thought of those who had given their last drop of blood to preserve this land, both Thule and Noromenn. The gods had not demanded my blood, so in return, I freely gave what was not spilled in battle.

  The sharp tip bit into my skin. Blood welled up, and I smeared it onto the arrowhead. Then I buried it there in the soft soil.

  Now a tiny piece of my spirit would always remain, even after I had left. It was a fitting sacrifice for a new beginning.

  I cleaned the mud caked beneath my fingernails and attended the evening meal at the high table, wearing the crimson dress Silveta had given me. Lexander never appeared. He was busy on the docks, bargaining for oarsmen to accompany him to the Auldland. He would have to pay a premium because of the shortage of men in town. But magnates were beginning to arrive from around Markland, having heard of Birgir’s demise, so there were enough willing men for the journey.

  During the meal, Niels grinned shyly and accepted some lighthearted ribbing from members of the noble entourage. With Silveta’s approbation, her
bondsmen and servants were beginning to accept young Niels. In truth, he was so eager to please everyone that they could hardly resent his presence.

  That night, I retired alone to Silveta’s old sleeping closet. The dark wooden walls and ceiling reminded me of Birgir; it was here that he had raped and beaten me. It was here that I could have killed Birgir, if I had been more ruthless, forestalling the horror of the recent battle.

  The bed and table were the same, but Silveta’s embossed chests and caskets were gone, likely moved to the solar she now shared with Jens. But the familiar fur blanket beckoned me, and I crawled in gratefully as I had done the first night I had slept here at Silveta’s behest.

  Lexander returned very late, having made preparations to depart at sunrise. He did not tell me, but I knew the knaar was ready to go with all the oarsmen sleeping onboard to guard the cargo. Lexander had completed everything with excessive haste, for reasons of his own.

  The olfs drifted away when Lexander appeared, setting the candle in the wall. Seeing that I was awake, he pulled back the fur, revealing me naked and waiting for him. His eyes devoured me.

  I had to tell him. "I’m going to the Auldland with you, Lexander."

  "Let’s not speak of that, Marja. Not now."

  His lips met mine, softly at first, then urgently, as if he could never get enough. Flesh pressed against flesh, heating and moistening as we kissed. I caressed his smooth skin, pulling him down to lie against me. He was no longer my master, but I could let my submissive desires run free when we joined together. I could surrender to him completely, knowing that he would never hurt me.

  I opened my mind and my emotions to him, as I did with the olfs. I hid nothing, exposing every part of my being. We merged together as he sank into me, to that very core of me that was always accepting, embracing whatever was desired.

  He could see that I longed to please him, even if it meant disavowing my own wishes. And that satisfied him. For he was distraught at the thought of leaving me. I could feel it now, despite his outward certainty that I should stay behind. He longed to be with me, but he had yielded to a deep-seated fear that I couldn’t penetrate.