Viking Love Beyond Time (Time Travel Romance) (36 page)

             
The spark was rapidly fanning into a flame - memories flooded back, Alodie, his love, the feel of her long golden hair in his fingers, her soft, honey scented body, her beautiful blue eyes, full of love -
I must find her!

             
His eyes snapped open “I must find her” he croaked.

             
Thora screamed and throwing her hands in the air she leaped off the bed and spun the laughing Bjarnie round in a mad jig.

************

             
Two hours after awakening Herger was wolfing down stew and trying to get out of bed, much to the dismay of his mother.

             
He had been absolutely distraught to discover that he had been unconscious for over nine months and had sent Bjarnie scurrying down to the quay with a message to be sent on the next boat to Amund (who he had assumed was in Exeter) that he would be back with them as soon as possible.  He had learned with dismay of the loss of the ship army off Swanage but was relieved to hear that most of his ships had been saved.

             
The next day he insisted on getting out of bed and repaired to the bath house adjacent to the hall.  A fire was blazing merrily in a huge earthenware bowl in the middle of the floor which held stones both in and around it, when these grew hot water was poured onto them, heating the air and filling the room with steam.  The dirt and sweat was then scraped off with a strigil type instrument.  When Herger emerged thralls were waiting with freshly drawn ice cold buckets of water which they threw over him.  Then, refreshed, but feeling weaker than he had since he was eight, he repaired to the main hall where a gargantuan feast had been prepared.

             
Thora had spared nothing to welcome her (as far as she was concerned) only son back to the land of the living and the trestles were set with beautiful cloths embroidered with bright colours.  As Herger took his place next to his brother he glanced at the wall which was covered with weapons hung on rows of pegs, the light glinting off the gleaming blades and winking on the gold and silver mounts and decided that before he sailed for Wessex he would build up his strength.  He prodded his arms, although still superbly muscled by most men’s standards, by his they were decidedly flabby.

             
His mother had put on her best clothes for the occasion, a red embroidered kirtle and white silk gunna, whilst around her shoulders was a beautifully worked lace shawl.  Herger felt a surge of affection for her and subdued a pang of guilt that he had been absent for so long.

             
The tables were groaning with provender of every description, joints of beef, lamb, bacon, goat, hare, fallow deer, even reindeer, there was a whole sucking pig, salted herrings, smoked salmon, haddock and eels, geese, chickens and game birds as well as endless broth, mushrooms, onions and later, of course, the bowls overflowed with the inevitable hazelnuts, walnuts, apples, blackberries and cherries, all this as well as wholemeal rye-loaves and cheeses to provide bulk.

             
Thora patted Herger’s arm.  “How do you feel, my boy?” she asked.

             
He grinned “hungry Mother”

             
Thora beamed broadly.  “You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear  you say that, my son - eat hearty, you have a lot to make up for”
             
Herger kissed his mother fondly on the cheek and, reaching over, speared a whole broiled  fowl with his eating knife and took a large bite, it was then he caught sight of Emma.  He felt his gorge rise - that treacherous sow - in his house!  Glaring, he allowed his arm to drop and swallowed his food, then he turned to his mother. “Get that bitch out of here!” he hissed.  Thora looked up in alarm “What - wh - who?”

Herger gestured with his index finger “That - her - get her out of my sight NOW!”

             
Thora tutted, “Why, in Thor’s name?  She’s just a thrall, a lazy one at that, ignore her
dear
and eat”

             
Herger clenched his fists “That bitch betrayed her own people, not only that she cursed Alodie and me.  She loathes Alodie and means to harm her.  I swore that the next time I saw her I would kill her, get her out of here!”

             
Realising something was wrong and feeling eyes boring into her Emma glanced up only to meet Herger’s furious gaze.  She shrank back.

             
“Herger, that woman gave us the name of your wife.  It was Alodie’s name which broke the spell which kept you in your death sleep” Thora said, obviously perplexed at her son’s outburst.

             
“......and it was probably that bitch who put me in it in the first place - the last time we met she cursed me and spat at me, I have never known anyone so full of venom in my life - I am sure Bjarnie would have remembered Alodie’s name eventually.”

             
“What do you want done with her - shall we have her killed?” questioned his mother.

             
Herger shook his head.  “No, I don’t kill women, sell her” he said quietly.

             
Thora nodded and gestured toward Emma.  “Remove the wench, she is  upsetting the Lord Herger” she said quietly to the two burly thralls who were standing behind her.  As they approached Emma she backed up until she reached the wall.

             
“Come on stringy hair” laughed one of the thralls.  He grabbed her elbow and pulled her toward the door but with a push she broke free and ran toward the table.

             
“What have I done? Why are you treating me like this?” she sobbed “I am a noblewoman of
Wessex
”

             
Herger, having regained some of his composure and feeling a little angry with himself that someone so insignificant as Emma could have caused him so much distress, looked up at her.  “That you are not, Emma. 
Noble
women do not prostitute themselves to the enemy, do not sell the secrets of their own kin for petty jealousy and revenge.  You are scum – far worse than the lowliest peasant in your  village!”

             
The hall fell silent.  He was going to have her killed, Emma knew it - Alodie had reached her witch’s talons across the
North Sea
in order to cause her even greater grief.  “Am I to be put to death then my lord?” she asked.  He shook his head.

             
“No, merely sold” he said coldly.

             
Emma felt a great rage building up inside her.  She spat on the rushes at his feet “I should have slaughtered you whilst you lay helpless in your bed great Herger!” she hissed “I had the chance, many times, and I was tempted, oh how I was tempted, but I did not do it because I would have been killed and I wanted to stay alive to someday plunge a knife into the creamy breast of that hell-crow Alodie, and one day I will, believe me, but not before I have seen her a slave!  Aye and you too Lord Herger!  Some day you will both grovel before me” foam flecked the corners of her mouth and her eyes blazed.

             
Thora had never seen such pure malice in a human being in her life.  She almost cringed back in her seat.  She had no idea what the wench was saying but who needed to understand the exact words spoken when the meaning was so clear?

             
Herger was unmoved.  He thoughtfully chewed a piece of bread then looked up and said in Saxon “You are the most vicious and evil person I have ever had the misfortune to know.  Tomorrow you will be sent up north to Ravensfjord to the auctions.  I never want to see your malicious face again.  Thank your Jesus that I have not had you killed!”

             
With a screech Emma grabbed at Herger’s eating knife and slashed at his face.  Only his lightning reflexes saved his cheek from being carved open but as he threw himself back he felt a burning across his jawline as the point of the knife connected with his flesh.  He heard Thora scream and a shout of dismay, and as he picked himself up he saw to his horror that whilst everyone had been stunned almost into a trance Emma had leapt for the door under their noses.  “Stop her!” shrieked Thora.

             
For a second everyone remained rooted to the spot then, as if a spell had been broken, they rushed for the door and as one spilled out into the night.

             
Herger put his hand to his jaw, it came away red.  Taking a gulp of wine he sighed
I feel weak
he thought
and that bitch will live to bedevil us yet.  I should have killed her myself.  I must be getting soft or I would have.  Starting tomorrow I will run, lift weights, wrestle, then, when I once more feel worthy of my love, I will cross the sea to her.
  
             
 

             
Alodie winced as a goblet flew past her head, bounced off the wall and just missed the wooden cradles where Tom and Nerissa were sleeping soundly “I said refill it, bitch!”

             
Biting her lip she retrieved the goblet, crossed to the ale barrel, then, shaking, filled it and handed it to the three hundred pound bloated wreck that had once been the most handsome man in
Wessex
.

             
Ever since Luke had seen young Tom that first morning her life had been hell.  He had asked her, point blank, if the twins were his and Alodie had lied.  She smiled to herself as she remembered - at one time she would not have given a tinker’s damn what Lieutenant Commander Luke Owen had thought but at that moment he had power, absolute power.  He could denounce her, throw her out and keep the children, even kill her if  he so desired.  She was his wife, his chattel.

She was not at all afraid for herself but she was terrified for her children.  If she died or was evicted they would be totally in his power and he was definitely not the Luke Owen she knew.  He no longer loved her, of that she was sure, if in fact he ever had.  He had lusted for her body but that was not the same thing.  Now, thankfully, even that was a thing of the past.  He seemed, if anything, to hate her and took every chance he could to degrade her, and she had become thin, her hair had lost its lustre and her eyes were red with weeping.  It was as though he wanted to destroy her totally - both physically and mentally.

             
Whenever she picked up either of the children, who were now five and a half months old and at the beautiful age where they recognised her and wanted to play, he would immediately call her to him and give her a menial task to do, on occasions he even forced her to mop up his vomit.

             
Since the day he had come home he had never taken the slightest interest in Tom and Nerissa and had spent all his time drinking.  It was as though he wanted to kill himself.  Alodie shuddered to think of the state of his kidneys and liver.

             
Young Swein hated and detested him and Luke delighted in terrifying the child with tales of what would happen if his father broke faith.  The first time he had reduced the child almost to tears Alodie had rounded on him calling him a bastard and a coward.  His reply had been to knock her almost senseless with a blow which sent her sprawling to the floor.  Swein had grabbed a knife from the table and Luke had karate chopped his arm, almost breaking it.  The young hostage now avoided Luke like the plague, spending all his time in his room.

             
Alodie had hoped things would improve when Oswy came home but tragedy had struck just after Luke had left the
Exeter
camp.  Oswy’s horse had stumbled and had rolled on his leg, the resulting wound had suppurated to such an extent that he was now plainly dying.  His leg was gangrenous and he had refused to submit to amputation, although it would have done little good as the wound had been too high up and the poison had now spread beyond any hope of recovery.  He would not live out the month.  To make thinks worse Luke had refused to allow him to be treated with his autodoc.  When Alodie had mentioned it he had informed her that the sooner Oswy died the sooner he, Luke, would come into his inheritance.  It had been on that occasion that he had taken her own bracelet from her by force and hidden it.  “With a bit of luck, bitch, the baby Vikings might succumb to the teething convulsions and die too!” he had hissed as he dragged it from her arm.

             
Alodie wandered over to the cradles in front of the fire and looked down at her children.  Mother love had totally overwhelmed her from the first - it was as if a piece of the jigsaw had been missing all her life and Tom and Nerissa had filled the gap.

             
Nerissa, even at her young age, was full of life.  Giggling and laughing at anything and everything and eager to be up and doing - just happy to be alive.

             
Tom, on the other hand, was a quiet, solemn baby, already almost as big as a child of one year and looking intently out at the world as if he wanted to learn everything needful before he took over.

             
Both babies were asleep but Tom had kicked off his coverlet.  Alodie covered his legs.  She had refused to allow the children to be swaddled which meant encasing them tightly in layers of linen like mummies for anything up to eighteen months.  This, Alodie argued, although the done thing at the time, was nothing more than a form of torture.  Godgyth had tutted and shaken her head at Alodie’s ‘modern’ ways and forecasted dire things.  Mary the midwife had prophesied that their arms and legs would drop off!

             
Feeling Luke’s eyes boring into her, Alodie looked up.  The door of the hall was open and a few brown autumn leaves had blown in.  “Why do you hate your own children Luke?” she asked suddenly “why are you treating us like this?  I don’t know you anymore you used to be such a....”

             
Luke laughed mirthlessly and took a long swallow of ale. “Fool is the word you were groping for my dear, fool” he snapped “I grew up, I realised that the woman I respected and adored was nothing more than a whore - to a bloody barbarian at that.  That boy in the cradle looks more like his father each day!”

             
Alodie glanced down.  It was true, the resemblance was striking, the same shape face, the same nose, the same cleft chin, even the eyebrows were the same shape, only his colouring was hers.  Alodie took a deep breath
deny it
she thought
deny it!

             
“It’s your imagination, Luke, please, we can’t go on like this” she said, walking over to Luke and placing a hand tentatively on his arm.  He shook it off, angrily, then smiled - even his teeth were going rotten.

             
“What’s happened to the
‘cut the crap Lieutenant Commander?’
You’ve become very meek and mild all of a sudden haven’t you?  I know why, too!” he strolled across to the cradles and looked down and the sleeping children then up at Alodie “You’re terrified, aren’t you?  Not for yourself but for these two?  You’re terrified that if you start to lay down the law I’ll do something nasty to your little bastards here - well, let me tell you this woman, the minute dear old Oswy shuffles off this mortal coil and I’m in charge you’ll wish both you and certainly the little Viking bastards had never been born!” With that he aimed a kick at Nerissa’s cradle, which caused it to rock with such force that she banged her head and woke with a scream.  That was the final straw - with a maternal shriek Alodie flew at Luke, her fingernails drawing four parallel bloody lines down his cheek.  He retaliated by grabbing her by the hair and throwing her from one end of the room to the other.  She fell against the wall, crushing her arm, and sank to her knees, sobbing. “How are the mighty fallen” he sneered.

             
This has got to be it
thought Alodie
the pits, the nadir, the lowest point of my life, things cannot possibly get worse than they are now
.  Her arm felt numb but she managed to move it with difficulty.  Peering through eyes swimming with tears she noticed that Luke was getting yet another refill at the ale barrel.

             
Suddenly Nerissa began to cry.  Quietly at first but then with more vigour.  She had been rudely awoken and wanted her mother.

             
Shaking herself like a dog Alodie climbed to her feet, a tingling in her elbow signalling that her arm was coming back to life.  She walked slowly over to the cradle, feeling Luke’s eyes on her constantly.  On seeing her mother looking down at her Nerissa stopped crying and held up her arms, Alodie bent to pick her up but was suddenly dragged backward by her hair “Oh God Luke, please!” she sobbed as Nerissa began to cry in earnest.

             
“Leave that frigging kid alone and come with me!” he snarled, letting go of her hair and bending her arm up her back.  He began to push her toward the stairs, her feet slipped beneath her and she screamed with pain as she felt that her arm was about to snap.  He pushed her up the stairs and along the landing to their chamber then almost running her through the door he sent her sprawling onto the bed.

             
He was panting with exertion and the sweat was rolling off him - absent mindedly he began to scratch his crotch.  “Strip off Captain” he snapped and began to remove his clothes “I cain’t recall that you’ve ever given me a blow - I think we’ll start today!”

             
With disgust she looked up at him, his huge belly, piggy glazed expression, double chin and slack mouth.  The smell of his unwashed body assailed her nostrils.  She felt herself gag.

             
Then suddenly something snapped inside and the old Captain Austen began to creep back.  She climbed off the bed and stood upright.  With disgust in her eyes her glance swept him from head to toe “Go to hell you fat smelly bastard” she hissed “go straight to hell, there’s nothing more you can do to me - I’d rather die than submit to your loathsomeness again!” with that she tossed her head and stalked out of the door, slamming it behind her.

             
She decided, quite coolly, that she was going to take Tom and Nerissa now, this very minute, and ride like the wind to Winchester and the shuttle, there had to be somewhere on this planet where she could be safe and free with her children.  The
Greek
Islands
were beginning to look very appealing.

             
But what about Godgyth?  When Oswy goes she’ll be at Luke’s mercy - so, for that matter, will Swein,
interjected her conscience.  
I’ll come back for Swein when I’ve picked up the shuttle,
she  reasoned
return him to his father  - the villagers will look after Godgyth.

             
With his hated adversary out of the way Swein had decided to venture downstairs and was tiptoeing along the landing when Alodie, head full of plans, almost walked into him “How are you today, Swein?” she asked, forcing herself to remain calm and ignore the thumping of her heart “would you like to go for a ride later?  It will have to be with Edwin, I’m going to be busy this afternoon”

             
Sensing that something was wrong Swein looked fearfully at the closed chamber door, Alodie glanced over the railings into the hall.  Godgyth had returned from picking herbs and was rocking Nerissa’s cradle, she felt reassured.
 
”Come on, let’s go downstairs” she said, taking his arm.

             
As they reached the bottom of the steps the chamber door suddenly crashed open and with a roar like a wounded bull Luke flew down the stairs at them.  His face was mottled and saliva dripped from his mouth - with a blow he knocked Swein to one side sending the child careering into the table.

             
He’s insane
thought Alodie, not for the first time.  It was then she noticed the knife in his hand.  With a shriek he grabbed her round the throat and banged her head up against the stone wall, she fought down the panic as her air supply was cut off.

             
“Right bitch!” he hissed between his teeth “I’m going to say this in Saxon for the benefit of all here.  You’ve defied me for long enough.  First I’m going to slit your throat, but not deeply enough to kill you - then, and only then, whilst you watch, I’m going to butcher all the Vikings in this room!”  It was only Alodie who knew he meant the twins as well as Swein.

             
The room was swimming, going dark, Alodie could feel her knees buckling, she fought against unconsciousness, she could not let him harm the children, she would have to stop him somehow.

             
Suddenly the pressure on her windpipe was abruptly released and she gingerly opened her eyes.  Luke was on the floor and Godgyth stood over him with a heavy iron frying pan in her hand.  There was a dent in the back of his skull the size of a plate.

             
Alodie rubbed her throat.  “Gytha, I think you’ve killed him” she croaked.

             
“I hope so, by God!” she replied “I’ve never seen a more evil man in my life, I could not stand by and see him kill you and Swein and become lord of this vill.  Oh, my dear, you were right about him and we were wrong.  Can you ever forgive us?”

             
Alodie put her arms round Godgyth and patted her plump shoulders.  “It was the drink which made him evil Gytha”

             
The older woman nodded in agreement “Aye, strong drink is the devil’s tool.  He uses it to find his own and draw them to him - oh no, he’s stirring!”

             
Alodie glanced down.  Luke was trying to climb to his feet, for all the world like a huge beached whale.  His face was grey and his eyes bulged “Now, I’m going to kill you all” he hissed “starting with the old crow!”

             
Alodie screamed, Godgyth crossed herself and held Alodie close.  Luke struggled slowly to his feet and reached out toward the two terrified women.  Suddenly he gasped and, foaming blood dripping from his mouth, half turned.