Far After Gold (17 page)

His mouth curled back against his stained teeth. “Someone has bedded you!”

The words sounded like an accusation, yet Gamel had no rights over her and it was hardly his place to complain if she was no longer a virgin. She saw the rage flickering in his eyes, decided he was not quite right in the head and struggled to be free.

He merely grinned.

Dislike, disgust and fear surged together in her. She kicked out, hoping to dislodge his grip. “Get off me!”

A grimace settled over his face, and she saw how the lines bracketing his mouth had formed. His arm moved with exaggerated slowness, became a blur and the back of his hand exploded against her face. The force of the blow rocked her back on her elbows, and her thoughts jangled and tangled together. She tasted blood in her mouth, and gagged.

Gamel seized her feet and hauled her toward him. The old green tunic dragged high on her thighs, and Gamel’s gaze settled there. He wrenched her legs apart and knelt between her knees. Emer screamed, kicked out in panic and got the sole of one foot against his belly. Desperately she tried to shove him away, but he slapped her foot aside and lunged forward to grasp her wrists.

“Help me!” she cried, dodging to one side, hoping someone would rescue her. Panicking, she dug her nails into his face, aimed for his eyes but he slapped her hands aside. The thin leather laces at the neck of her tunic broke under the strain and overlarge tunic fell off one shoulder. Gamel reached out to grab. On flesh still tender from Flane’s loving, Gamel’s rough fingers hurt. She screamed again and again and caught a glimpse of Oli’s white face behind Gamel’s shoulder.

“Oli, no! You’ll be hurt!”

Oli took no notice of her. He sank both hands into the sparse, greasy hair at the back of Gamel’s head, and yanked with all his might. Gamel yowled, let go of Emer and launched to his feet in the same movement. Oli, his face blank with fright, backed away, strands of lank hair clenched in his fists.

“You little runt!” growled Gamel, lunging at the boy. “I’ll tear your head off!”

Emer struggled to her feet. Dizzy with exertion, hampered by a tunic that slid off her slender frame, she looked for a weapon and stumbled to a stack of wood by the fire. She seized a stout log. He would not get his hands on the boy. Gamel lunged for Oli, who skipped out of reach. Grendel, growling, sprang toward the threatening hand and hung on just as Emer hefted the log, swung and cracked it against the back of Gamel’s skull. Gamel did not fall. He lurched sideways, his face livid.

“Thor’s balls!” he howled, flung Grendel aside and plunged back toward Emer. Blood dripped from the hand reaching for her. “You little bitch. I’ll give you the hiding of your life!”

Terrified, Emer stumbled backwards, swung the log, missed him and overbalanced.

Chapter Eleven

Emer was deaf and blind to everything but the need to escape. A bellow of anger cut through her panic.

Gamel heard it and stopped moving. His gaze settled on something behind her.

She twisted, caught a glimpse of Flane speeding across the hall. Hope and energy surged through her in a hot wave. She clenched her hand and smashed her knuckles across Gamel’s nose.

Tears sprang to his eyes, his grip loosened, and Emer wriggled free. She staggered, fell and landed on her bottom. Dazed, she looked up. Flane stood in front of her, a solid shield of bone and muscle between her and Gamel. She was safe. All the air left her lungs, and her muscles wobbled like a jellyfish stranded on the beach.

Stripped to the waist, feet apart, bent slightly forward in a fighter’s crouch, Flane must have come straight from the training yard. He carried no weapons, but Emer looked at the taut muscles and wide shoulders and thought he did not need them.

Oli scuttled around and knelt by Emer. “Are you all right?”

“Thanks to you, Oli, I’m fine. Or I will be in a moment or two.” She struggled to her feet, limped over to the stones of the raised hearth and sat down rather more suddenly than she intended.

“What happened, Oli?” Flane demanded without taking his eyes off Gamel.

“He attacked her.” Oli’s boyish treble soared across the hall. “He pulled her off the stool and jumped on her!”

Gamel wiped his hand beneath his nose. He stared at the smear of blood on his fingers and then back at the younger man. “What’s it to you if I bed her? She’s only a slave.”

“She’s my slave. It matters.”

“A slave is anybody’s,” Gamel growled. “And I want her. Get out of my way.” Gamel tried to brush Flane aside in order to get at Emer. There was a general intake of breath behind her. Emer looked around and saw the men and women who had rushed into the hall behind Flane.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Flane’s palm flattened against Gamel’s chest and shoved him back. Gamel growled and threw a punch at Flane’s head.

Out of the crowd came a familiar face. Inga, smiling and shaking her head, put an arm around Emer and held her firm against her bosom.

Oli squeaked in excitement. “Look at that! Gamel—he’s fighting! Gamel never fights!”

Emer cringed in Inga’s firm grip. Pulses thundered still in her ears, but she looked up and gasped. Flane Ketilsson was indeed fighting. Her heart swelled on the thought that he fought for her. Tall, lithe and battle-fit, he avoided a swinging chop to his throat. She flinched when Gamel’s knuckles crashed into Flane’s face, but he jerked back, skipped to one side and let fly with a punch of his own.

Skeggi appeared from nowhere and stood with Oli. He gave Emer a cursory glance. “Need anything?”

Shaking her head, Emer kept her eyes on the scene before her. “No, I’m all right. But thank you,” she added and spared the young man a grateful glance before she turned back to the fight.

Gamel looked older than Flane by five or six years, perhaps more, but beneath his flea bitten tunic and baggy trousers his stringy body was as battle tough as the rest of the warrior band. Emer flinched and hid her face against Inga’s ample bosom as Flane took a blow to the belly.

“It wasn’t as bad as it looked,” Skeggi muttered, his gaze still on the fighters. “Flane rolled with it, minimised it. He’s faster than Gamel.”

Reassured, Emer tugged her tunic back into place and saw Flane’s arm drive toward Gamel’s face and land on his nose. Gamel reeled back, feet moving rapidly beneath him to stay upright. Once he got his balance he leered, hatred printed in every line of his mean, sullen face. He bounced forward and jabbed with his right fist. Flane ducked, stepped in and drove a blow deep into Gamel’s belly. Gamel doubled over, and Flane’s hard fist found the side of Gamel’s jaw and snapped his head to one side. Blood flecked the corner of Gamel’s open mouth as he staggered a pace or two. Then he snarled, lowered his head and charged.

Emer sat bolt upright, one hand at her mouth.

Flane fell neatly backwards, lifted his legs and caught Gamel on the soles of his boots. His legs flexed and Gamel flew through the air.

Emer let out a small yelp and clapped her palms together. Her tormentor landed with a crash on the floor.

Already up on his feet, Flane flicked his long hair out of his eyes and threw himself forward. Gamel was still on his knees when the force of Flane’s dive carried them both to the floor. They rolled over and over and slowly came to a halt with Flane’s forearm wedged against the other man’s throat. Gamel’s face slowly turned crimson.

“Look out, Flane! He’s got a knife!” Skeggi cried.

Emer choked back the cry that rose in her throat. The blade flashed in the firelight. Flane’s hand shot out and grasped the other man’s wrist. Flane’s weight came off his opponent’s throat and Gamel sucked in a huge gulp of air.

Emer watched in horror as Flane, his fair skin flushed, brought both hands to bear on the wrist that held the dagger. He forced the knife hand back against the floor and then knelt on it.

Gamel’s face contorted, there was a loud crack and Flane wrenched the weapon from the suddenly lax hand. He got to his feet and stood over Gamel. “Touch that girl again, and you’ll have this in your heart.” He looked at the dagger and then held it out to Oli. “Do you want it?”

A huge grin lit Oli’s face. He took the knife and held it across both palms. Flane, his colour high, strode to Emer, seized her arm and marched her across the hall to his bed space. Once there, he shoved her onto the mattress and stood over her, his chest flaring with each breath. Rush light winked and gleamed on the silver studs of his wrist guards and the small silver Thor’s hammer, usually out of sight below his tunic, now nestled in the hollow of his throat where it lodged during the fight.

Emer scrambled into a kneeling position. He was furious, and yet it hadn’t been her fault. “Wh—what? Flane, please, I—” The green tunic slid off her shoulder again. Emer grabbed it, clutched the two edges tight together under her chin and stared up into his flushed face.

“Stay here,” Flane hissed, “and stay out of trouble!” A pulse beat rapidly in the side of his neck and his eyes blazed down at her.

Tears pricked behind her eyelids at the injustice of it. “I didn’t do anything! Gamel attacked me!” Emer swallowed. “With both him and Katla, I’ll never be safe here!”

“I’ve taken care of Gamel. Now I’ll deal with Katla.” Flane turned and strode across the hall, his shoulder blades stiff and the silver hair lifting with the speed of his stride.

Emer sagged as if someone had cut all the strings that held her together. Seeing his anger for the first time, she sensed a power within him that frightened her. If he turned all that fury onto Katla, something was bound to happen soon.

Everyone in the hall watched Flane stride through the cloth curtain at the far end of the hall. Emer cleared her throat, stiffened her spine and lifted her chin. Oli ran across and leapt onto the bed platform, Grendel followed and wriggled against her hip. Tears pricked and stung at the back of Emer’s eyes as she looked at the pair of them. They had both tried to help her.

Oli’s hazel eyes met hers. “Skeggi says I’m to make sure you stay here.”

“Oli,” Emer said slowly, cuddling Grendel into her, “I don’t think I have the energy to go anywhere at all.”

Grendel licked her enthusiastically and the threat of tears retreated.

***

Much later, the hall grew quiet as people sought their beds. Emer woke from a light doze, realised Flane had not returned and closed her eyes once more. Aware of Oli’s warmth at her side, she settled back to sleep knowing Grendel would warn them if anyone approached.

Flane would be with Katla.

Her eyes opened on the thought. Sleep retreated as doubts and misery closed in. Every muscle in her body ached from the struggle with Gamel. She probed her cheek on the side he had hit her, half expecting to find loose teeth but found only a sore patch where her teeth had cut the inside of her cheek.

Emer turned her head from side to side on the mattress. Surely Flane could not believe that she had invited what had happened? She supposed he must believe her, for he had not punished her in any way. He’d been in a furious temper, but had not struck her. He had not even said he blamed her for anything.

She could not fault his protection of her; it had been instantaneous and unconditional. He was a good man, an honourable man, even if he held to the strange view that a man could expect to take a wife and keep a bed a slave as well. He seemed to have no idea how demeaning that was to both herself and Katla. How could he say he loved her and marry Katla? Her thoughts nagged and chased each other until she fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

Emer woke suddenly with a small, rough hand tugging at her arm. She groaned, opened bleary eyes and gazed into Oli’s excited face. “Wake up,” he pleaded, his brown hair sticking up like a cockscomb on top of his head. “Emer! Wake up!”

She hitched up onto one elbow, only half aware of the quiet hall behind him. “What is it? What’s wrong? No one is up yet.”

“I overheard them talking,” Oli blurted. “She says you stole silver. Flane says you didn’t. He said if she said you stole anything he’d beat her!”

Emer held out a hand to stop the flow of words. “Oli, please! I’ve just woken and I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me. Slow down, take a deep breath and then start at the beginning. By the time you’ve done that, I’ll be awake, too.”

He sat back, drew a long, deep breath and let it go in an impatient rush. “Grendel woke me early,” he began. “He wanted a pee. We went out through the byre door and round the end of the hall. I heard voices. It was Flane, so I listened.”

“He didn’t see you?”

Oli shook his head impatiently. “He was inside. I was outside. The shutter was open, which was why I heard them. Him and Katla. She said you’d stolen silver while you cleaned her room. You didn’t, did you?”

“Of course I didn’t. That would make me a thief.”

“Well, she says you did, and she wants to tell her father and get you turned out of the settlement. Flane told her not to say anything until he’d spoken to you.” He grinned. “He told her if she did, he’d take his hand to her backside.”

Slowly her mind began to function. Emer drew her fingers slowly down her face, stretching the skin of her cheeks. “Flane was there? In her room?” So he
had
gone to Katla. Worse still, he’d stayed there. She wanted to weep.

Oli nodded. “Does she hate you because of Flane?”

“I think you’ve hit the nail on the head.”

A frown clouded his face, and then cleared. “That means I’m right, doesn’t it?”

Emer nodded. “I think I’d better make myself scarce. I don’t want her shouting at me in front of everyone. Yesterday was bad enough. Do you think you could get my gown from the drying rack, Oli? And my chemise. I’ll feel better in something that isn’t always falling off.”

When the boy scampered off, Emer sat cross-legged on the bed and clasped her hands together. Flane had defended her yesterday against Gamel, and she shuddered to think what would have happened without him coming to her rescue. Perhaps there was a way she could remain his slave and let him deal with Katla’s jealous rages. He seemed certain he could do it.