was beyond caring. “I have, I can, and I will,” Helga said and continued brushing down Streak. “If there is nothing else—”
“Don’t turn your back on me, woman,” Johan said. An edge had crept into his voice.
Helga spun around. “Do not presume to tell me what to do or say when you are on my land, Johan Aagard! I would like you to leave!”
She took two steps toward him and wished she hadn’t. Johan was a farmer and had been working the land for the best part of forty years. He was a good head and a half taller than her, barrel-chested and solid.
He did not move but looked down at her. “I have told you: I will court you, and you will be my wife.”
“Loki’s balls I will,” she snapped. “Now leave.”
“No.”
“Go away!” she screamed in his face and crumpled as he struck her in the chest. Blinking and gasping for breath, she thought she saw something—
“She told you to leave.”
Audun. Standing by the fence, completely still.
“Oh? So that’s it, then?” Johan stood over her, impossibly big. “Someone got there before me?” He chewed this over for a couple of moments. “It’s all right. You’re a woman. It was to be expected.” He turned toward Audun. “Now you, on the other hand, can fuck right off.”
Audun said nothing, but there was a faint . . . change in him. Helga felt her insides go cold.
“I said, you can fuck right off.” Johan took a step toward the blond man by the fence, and Helga felt a sharp stab of fear. “You deaf? Fucking traveler scum. Norse? Probably.”
Two more steps.
“She would like you to leave,” Audun said. He didn’t raise his voice, but the statement was loud enough for those who wanted to hear.
Johan was not one of them.
“You fucking—” He stepped in strong, ready to bash, grapple, and twist the smaller man to the ground.
Audun broke his arm.
Johan screamed and fell to his knees.
“Audun!” The word escaped her lips, and she watched him deflate. He stepped away from the screaming man and took a few deep breaths. Incredibly, Johan staggered to his feet spewing a stream of curse-words, red-faced and drooling. He climbed up onto his horse and rode off, clutching his arm.
Helga clambered to her feet before Audun got to her.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
She dusted herself off. “You’re going to have to get used to sleeping with a blade,” she said. “He’ll be back.”
Audun sighed and shook his head.
She was about to insist when he walked away.
When he came back out of the tool shed, he was carrying a hammer.
ON THE ROAD, NORTH OF LAKE VANERN
CENTRAL SWEDEN, EARLY NOVEMBER, AD 996
Ulfar woke to drops of cold water on his lips. He tried to speak, but all that escaped was a moan.
“Easy. Easy, now,” a man’s voice said behind his head.
His eyes adjusted to the light: late evening; sky fading from purple to black. The soft orange glow of a campfire somewhere a bit off. His shoulders were stiff, his back worse. He tried to move his hands but couldn’t. Rope burns tickled and itched. A thick, numb feeling in his stomach slowly dissolved into white-hot pain, and his breath caught in his throat.
“You’ve been badly hurt, friend,” the man said.
Wincing, Ulfar turned to look, but his captor remained out of his field of vision. All he could see was a strong arm holding a water bottle. Now his neck hurt as well.
“Do you remember anything?”
“N-nuh,” Ulfar muttered. He tried to concentrate. A wagon. He’d been trussed up and thrown onto a wagon.
“Thought so,” the man rumbled. He moved to stand in front of Ulfar. He was of medium height, graying at the temples. “I am Goran. I look after a couple of fur-pushers. You are in our caravan.”
“Where—?”
“We’re going to Uppsala,” Goran said. “And you’re coming with us.”
The words caught in Ulfar’s throat. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and waited for sleep.
When he woke again, it was to the merciless bump and jostle of the road. He was still wedged in the back of the wagon; his hands were still bound. The sky was the blue of midmorning. The chatter of the men washed over him.
“—but where will he go?”
“Forkbeard is heading for the south. We are well north of anything he wants. He’ll just take the flat and easy, as usual.”
“Strange choice for a wife, then.”
As the men chuckled, Ulfar twisted into a better position for listening. Behind him, someone drew a sharp breath and