Viking Passion (26 page)

“Where are we?”

“This is my home. Come inside, Lenora. I’ll
show you the necklace, then I’ll take you back to your tent.”

Lenora stepped through the door. Torgard
followed, bolting the door securely behind himself. Lenora began to
feel uneasy.

“I think I should leave,” she said.

“You will remain here.”

Lenora suddenly recalled something Torgard
had said earlier. “How did you know Erik had gone to see
Askold?”

“My servant has been watching you. I know
everything you three have done since we all arrived here in
Kiev.”

“Why? What do you want?” Her uneasiness was
increasing rapidly.

“Erik has nearly ruined me by delaying us on
the trip downriver until the flotilla had left. I lost huge profits
because of him.”

“That is ridiculous. The traders’ boats had
left for Miklagard days before we got to Kiev. You could never have
been here in time.”

Torgard laughed. It was not a pleasant sound.
“What Erik cost me, I will begin to make up on you.”

Lenora had gone beyond uneasiness. She was
now very afraid of the harmless-looking man before her.

“What are you going to do with me?”

“Sell you. I will gain some silver from the
transaction. Erik and Halfdan will delay their departure from Kiev
to search for you. The delay will allow your pursuers to catch up
with them.” Seeing the look on Lenora’s face, Torgard laughed
again. “Rodfos told me you were running away from someone who had
followed you across the Baltic Sea. He paid me to take you to
safety. He did not know who your pursuers were, but I reason that
anyone who wants you and your friends badly enough to travel such a
long distance will be willing to pay for information on your
whereabouts. I will know where Erik and Halfdan are, so I will make
a lot of silver from that. Then, if your pursuers want you, too,
I’ll sell them that information also, and let them fight your owner
for you. In fact, I might even warn him your pursuers are after
him, and make a little more money as a reward for my kindness to
him.”

“Who are you going to sell me to?” Lenora
could only hope that whoever Torgard was dealing with would be a
decent person who would accept her explanation that she had been
abducted and let her go.

“He will be here shortly,” Torgard said. “In
the meantime, we may as well enjoy ourselves.”

Torgard grabbed Lenora by the wrist and
dragged her toward a bed platform that was covered with dirty,
matted furs. She fought him every step of the way. She was overcome
with disgust and loathing of Torgard, and with anger at herself for
leaving the safety of Halfdan’s tent with the man. It did not occur
to her until much later that Torgard would have gotten her away
from the tent by any means, however violent, so he could carry out
his plan.

Torgard threw her roughly onto the furs and
then flung himself on top of her. Lenora continued to fight him. If
she could just get away from him, get out of his house, find her
way back to the tent and find Erik, then all would be well.

Torgard’s hands were all over her, pinching
and bruising and probing. He ripped the silk robe off one shoulder.
At last she lay still, watching him through slitted eyes. He
ignored her reactions, intent on satisfying his own lust before
Lenora’s purchaser arrived. When he loosened his hold on her to
pull down his breeches, Lenora wriggled aside, and then, just as he
uncovered himself, she jabbed him in the groin with her knee. He
screamed in pain.

Lenora scrambled off the bed and ran to the
door. She fumbled with the bolt and finally slid it open.

She plunged through the doorway, falling into
the arms of a blond giant who had lifted one fist to knock on the
door. He caught her around the waist, lifting her off her feet and
slinging her carelessly over his shoulder as he carried her back
into Torgard’s house. There, still holding the kicking, fighting
Lenora, the newcomer burst into laughter.

“What’s this, Torgard? Are you sampling my
merchandise before I have a chance to try her?”

Torgard, his breeches down around his knees,
was sitting on the edge of the bed platform, still doubled over,
clutching himself and moaning.

“She’s a fighter, is she?” The blond stranger
laughed even harder. “Too strong for you, I see, but I’ll soon tame
her.”

With his free hand he pulled a leather purse
from his belt and tossed it at Torgard, who snatched it up and
began to count the silver coins it contained.

“You’re not as badly hurt as you thought you
were,” the blond man observed. “Or is it that silver cures all
ills? It’s all there, Torgard. Weigh it and see. Now I’ll be on my
way.”

“You can’t buy me,” Lenora cried. She was
still dangling across his shoulder, and she kept on pounding at his
back with both fists. “I’m not a slave, I’m a free woman. Torgard
abducted me.”

The blond man put her down at last.

“Is this true, Torgard?”

“Of course not. She lies all the time. That’s
why her master wanted to sell her.” Torgard limped to Lenora’s
side, holding his breeches up with one hand. He regarded her with
an expression of pure hatred. “Just don’t believe anything the
wench says.”

The blond man stood Lenora on her feet and
looked her over from head to toe, considering her.

“Well,” he said softly, “whatever you were
before, you are a slave now.”

He put out one hand to take her arm. The hand
was covered with fine golden hairs and it looked strong enough to
crush her with no effort at all. Lenora stepped back, out of his
reach.

“I won’t go with you,” she declared. “I’m
going back to Erik.”

She headed for the open door. Torgard caught
her shoulder and spun her around. His fist connected with her jaw.
The last thing she heard was his exultant laugh.

* * *

“Where is she?” Erik’s sharp eyes scanned the
area around their tent. “I told her to stay here.”

“Lenora wouldn’t wander off,” Halfdan said.
“She understood your warning, and she has too much good sense to
defy you about something so important.”

“Has she? I hope so. She has been remarkably
difficult since we left Denmark.”

“She wants to be with you,” Halfdan said.
“She loves you.”

Erik stared at him in amazement, and Halfdan
saw a flicker of something in his friend’s eyes. Ordinarily, he
would have teased Erik about his feelings for Lenora, so clearly
revealed by that look, but the situation was too serious for
joking.

Halfdan could think of several explanations
for Lenora’s absence and none of them was pleasant.

“At least,” Halfdan said, “we can be sure
Snorri or Sven had nothing to do with this. Neither of them could
possibly be in Kiev so soon. Why don’t you search the tent, and
I’ll look around out here.”

Erik ducked into the tent and came out
holding Lenora’s cast-off woolen dress and dirty linen shift.

“Here, see this. Where could she go without
clothes on? Halfdan,
what has happened to her
?”

“Your concern has clouded your reason,”
Halfdan reproved gently. He knew if it were Freydis who was
missing, he would be as upset as Erik was. Halfdan was fond of
Lenora, but he could see things more clearly than his friend. He
took the garments from Erik’s hands and held them up for
inspection. “They’re not torn or bloody, Erik. That means she took
them off herself. Didn’t she have another dress, a blue silk thing?
She’ll be wearing that. We will look for a girl in a blue silk
dress. We had better start asking questions right at the next
tent.”

“When I think,” Erik said, “of what might
happen to a young and beautiful woman in Kiev – Halfdan,
we have
to find her
.”

She was being smothered. She was wrapped in a
shroud and she could not get out. She struggled, moaning at the
pain in her jaw and clawing at the choking fabric. She heard a
laugh coming from a great distance.

“Awake, are you?” said a vaguely familiar
voice. “Hold still.”

She was released from the shroud and saw it
was only a blue wool cape. She gasped for air and looked up to see
the blond giant watching her. They were standing in a courtyard
enclosed by a tall wooden fence. At one end of the courtyard was a
large log house, with several wooden buildings to one side. She
took another deep breath as the blond man steadied her.

“That’s better. I thought you were dead. I
was going to get my silver back from Torgard. Who needs a dead
slave?”

“I’m no slave. Let me go, please. I must find
my friends.”

“No more lies.” He touched her jaw. His hand
was surprisingly gentle; but still she winced. “That will soon
heal. Tell me your name.”

“Lenora. I am
not
a slave,” she
insisted.

“I’m Attair. If you behave, I’ll treat you
kindly. If you try to escape, I’ll kill you, slowly and painfully.
Do you understand?”

“
I’m not a slave
.”

Attair caught the hair at the back of her
head and pulled her face close to his. He had smooth, lightly
tanned skin with a golden tinge to it. His eyes were golden-brown,
like two pieces of sea amber. They slanted up at the sides above
his high cheekbones. He had a full, sensuous mouth.

“You are a slave. Mine. I bought you.” The
amber eyes softened. “I may have gotten a better bargain than I
originally thought. You will be beautiful once you are clean and
dressed. This will be an interesting night.”

When Lenora opened her mouth to protest,
Attair stopped her.

“One more word and I will order your tongue
cut out. That is what I did to these women, and I will do it to
you.” He beckoned to two women who stood by the door of the log
house. “Bathe and prepare her, then bring her to me,“ he
ordered.

The women bowed their heads silently, and
Attair strode off toward the gate, where a group of armed men was
admiring a horse.

The women indicated by gestures that Lenora
should follow them. They conducted her to one of the outbuildings,
a bathhouse, where they stripped her of her clothes. She began to
object, but then realized that Attair had spoken the truth. The
women could not speak. It seemed to Lenora they were trying to
convey to her that she should be silent and do as Attair had
commanded or she would suffer the same fate.

When they took her clothes away, she did
insist, albeit silently, by gestures, on keeping the two bags that
had hung around her neck, one with the silver coins Erik had given
her, the other containing the amber they had found in Holgar’s
warehouse in Hedeby.

The women scrubbed her and made her sit in a
room with hot stones onto which they threw cold water. The room
filled with steam, choking her. Then they washed her again,
scrubbing her hair, too, this time, and rinsed her with cold
water.

They massaged scented oils into her skin with
firm, rhythmic motions. Next they rubbed her body with linen cloths
until her skin flushed rosy-pink. They trimmed and cleaned her
nails and polished them with a piece of silk to make them shine.
One of the women opened a vial of silver-black powder. Into this
she dipped a pointed stick and used the stick to outline Lenora’s
eyes. The other woman rubbed a reddish-brown powder onto Lenora’s
cheeks and lips.

If she had not been so frightened, she would
have enjoyed these ministrations, but fear lay like a cold stone at
her heart. Where was Erik? Would he, as Torgard believed, search
for her, delaying his departure from Kiev until Sven and Snorri
found him? Or would he shrug his shoulders in that gesture so
characteristic of him, and go on to Miklagard and forget her? She
thought that was possible, considering their recent quarrels. She
did not believe he cared about her at all.

Finally, when her naked body had been
cleansed and oiled and scented and painted to the satisfaction of
the two serving women, they dressed her. They brought her a gown of
heavy, pale green silk. There were patterns woven into the fabric,
branches of flowers and little birds and strange round symbols that
seemed to be some kind of writing. The wide sleeves were lined with
sheer, peach-colored silk. The gown wrapped across the front, and
was held with a jeweled gold sash.

The women combed her hair, letting it ripple
down her back in thick chestnut curls that glowed against the pale
green of the gown. They put soft, silk-lined slippers on her
feet.

Lastly, they gave her a cup of hot liquid
brewed with herbs. It tasted bitter. She would have refused, but
they made it clear she must drink it. She obeyed.

They led her to Attair’s house, into his
private chamber, and left her there alone. Lenora had never seen
such richness. Thick carpets covered the floor and the extra-wide
bed platform along one side of the room. More carpets were hung on
the walls. Where there were no carpets, there were panels of silk
draped in brilliant, shimmering colors.

Everywhere Lenora looked she saw pattern and
color. The rugs were red and blue and gold and turquoise, woven in
designs of flowers, leaves, vines, and geometric patterns.

On top of the rugs covering the bed platform
were thrown thick furs and silk-covered pillows in violet, gold, or
azure blue, with silk tassels on the corners. Before the bed stood
a low, ornately carved wooden table, topped with a huge gold tray
that was piled with dishes of food. The oil lamps hanging on long
chains from the high rafters were of pierced brass or colored
glass.

The air smelled of incense and of another,
oddly sweet scent Lenora did not recognize. It made her dizzy.

She heard a sound behind her and turned.
Attair had entered the room. He closed the door and drew across it
a panel of green and gold silk, hiding the door and enclosing them
in the ornate, fragrant opulence of his private quarters.