Enslaved by the Viking. Harper St. George
that is true. You led them well, son. I don’t mean to imply otherwise. But you must hold their trust.’ The older man let the words linger in the air between them.
There was no need to elaborate. No one knew what had happened on that day long ago. Even his father had only speculated, but he’d immediately installed a girl in Eirik’s chamber. The men had assumed she’d slept in his bed, but she hadn’t, and Eirik suspected his father knew that.
Eirik had never taken a bed slave, never once lain with any of the gypsy women who followed their camps, never taken a woman in a raid. He’d taken women into his tent, the ones who were reluctant to bed the others and grateful for his protection. But he never took pleasure with them and gently rebuffed the few who had tried to repay his protection with their favours.
‘They have no reason to distrust me.’
‘The slave was a nice touch,’ Hegard agreed. ‘I admit, even I wasn’t expecting her. You’ve never taken a slave before.’
Eirik had to look away from his father’s appreciative leer. It enraged him to have his father view her so casually, but there was no reason it should. She was only a slave.
‘Bed your slave. But Kadlin won’t wait. You need to wed her soon. Leave her with child when you return to fight in the spring. Then the men will have no reason to distrust you.’
‘They have no reason to distrust me now.’ Only the few who followed Gunnar had dared to voice any dissent against him.
‘They distrust what isn’t like them. Marry a jarl’s daughter and you’ll prove to be even better than them.’
Eirik could read his father’s eyes and knew that the seeds of distrust lived even in his own father. If it could live there, then how could he expect the men to trust him?
‘It doesn’t matter. I’ll be married by spring and there will be no reason for it to linger.’
The jarl nodded, but kept a keen watch on his son’s face. ‘Good. Gunnar is learning, but he’s not as temperate in his decisions as you are. The men need a level head to lead them.’
Gunnar was his main rival for his father’s seat. It was his duty to make his claim as solid as possible to lessen the fight. Despite the rivalry, he had no desire to harm his brother. But Gunnar wouldn’t sit by and allow what he deemed to equally belong to him to slip through his fingers. The fight was coming. It was the way of a jarl’s sons.
‘How was your bed slave last night?’
Eirik hadn’t realised his brother had come out of his chamber when he joined them at the table, but the question shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Gunnar wasn’t known for his subtlety or tact. He seemed to enjoy purposely riling both Eirik and their father.
‘Gunnar.’ Hegard shook his head in disapproval as he watched his son take a seat.
‘A fair question, father. I only wish my brother happiness.’ Gunnar grinned and raised his mug to them.
They were joined then at the table by Bram and Sweyn, who’d returned with Eirik and Gunnar, and the talk turned to the battles and raids over the past summer. The raids in Francia had been immensely successful. Much of their treasure had been paid in tribute, but the raids had been going on long enough and they were beginning to meet resistance. Which was why they had been patrolling the northern coasts. For years they had been raiding Wessex, East Anglia, Mercia and Northumbria to moderate gains. But now there was talk of more than raiding.
Hegard’s brother, Einar, claimed the land was ripe for the taking. Hegard was doubtful that men could be such fools to suffer kings unable to protect them, which was why Eirik’s trip had been so important. He’d confirmed Einar’s claim. Every stop along the coast had proved the Saxons were unfortified and unable to counter a full attack against an organised fleet. Their leaders offered tribute too easily now. It had become second nature, as if they thought no other form of aggression was possible. Leaders like that didn’t deserve to keep what they held. The only real resistance they had encountered was a skirmish just days south of where he’d taken the slave girl, and that had been pitifully organised. Judging from the lack of men at her home, Eirik suspected the group, or at least a part of it, had originated there.
Come spring, Eirik would return with even more men and join the group wintering just near Thetford. Then they would raid north to take Northumbria.
Eirik watched the excitement light up Hegard’s eyes as he listened to their stories. There was no doubt in his mind that the jarl would be inclined to commit men to the battle. The exhilaration was almost contagious. It even pulled at him, making his hands restless and his heart pound. But he could be gone for years. What would he do with his pretty slave then?
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