Ragnar the Murderer (5 page)

Turning to search in a different place, a figure waited for her half a gyrd away. He had very blond hair, the sight of which jolted her. She stood up, preparing to run.

“
On your own, tiny woman?” asked Kjartan.

She turned and ran, dropping her bundle of firewood. Blindly stumbling away, she could hear him laughing. The dry, cold leaves and twigs cracked under her feet. Her mother would be furious if she didn’t return with the kindling. She would have to wait until Kjartan had gone before she went back to fetch it.

Then she ran straight into someone. Or rather, into his chest. She recognised the same Huskarl uniform as Kjartan’s and knew she was trapped. Horrible thoughts ran through her mind, but she forced herself to look up, at Ragnar.

Now her thoughts were confused. Was he Kjartan’s accomplice? Was he here by chance, or design? Was he going to-?

“
What is wrong?” He interrupted her thoughts.

“
I- I must get home, I- my mother-“

“
Tell me why you are scared.”

“
Kjartan, he- he is your friend and-“

“
He is not my friend! What has he done?”

“
Nothing! But he was going to! He called me tiny woman, he asked if I was alone, he-“ Her speech dissolved into incoherence.

He put his arms round her. She tried to escape but he soothed her by stroking her hair until she calmed down.

“
Are you going to rape me now?” she muttered, still frightened but accepting she could not escape.

“
No! Kjartan-“ He bit his tongue because she resumed shaking at the mention of his name.

“
Why are you here with him then?”

“
We have to collect firewood as our duty. I don’t want to work with him, but… no choice.”

She still slumped against him.

“
Come on.” He lifted her up into the branch of an ash tree. “He can’t hurt you up here.”

Their eyes met and they smiled at the ridiculousness of the situation. Kjartan could easily reach her, but he wouldn’t with Ragnar there. Their eyes were level now and she gazed at him. His eyes were narrow and straight, unlike the rounder eyes and arched eyebrows of her kin, his face longer with a greater expanse of cheek, mostly taken up by beard. Not unattractive but different. His eyes appeared dark from a distance but were actually blue, more of a navy than sapphire.

“
My parents have made arrangements for my marriage to Eadbald,” she blurted, looking away. “It is all agreed. We will wed next month, then I will live with him and his eight children.”

“
So you are not happy with that?”

“
Not- not really.” She looked into his eyes again, she couldn’t avoid them. “It’s just- I don’t know, it’s not my choice. I’d rather be independent and choose my husband, but I don’t have a long line of suitors like Saehild.”

“
I don’t know why not,” he burst out.  “You’re far more-“ He stopped, surprised at himself.

She stared at him, then wobbled on the branch and he put his arms round her again to steady her. She nestled against his neck, breathing a sigh of relief. His unruly hair tickled her face, it smelled fresh and clean so she took a deep breath of it.

A robin sang close by and she noticed tiny buds were forming on the twigs. Spring was on its way.

He relaxed while holding her. He wished he could just pick her up, carry her off and- what exactly did he wish? Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself.

“
Aha, I thought she was your woman,” said a voice nearby, making them jump. Kjartan. “That’s why you stopped me fucking her: you wanted to do it yourself.”

Ragnar and Aelfwyn let go of each other.

“
Do you want me to smash your face in again?” he snarled, stepping towards the other Huskarl.

“
Think you could? You fight like a girl!”

They squared up to each other.

“
Excuse me!” said Aelfwyn irritably. “Are you just leaving me here on this branch?”

Ragnar hastily lifted her down and turned back to his tormentor, preparing to attack him.

“
How old are you? Are you children of six?” she demanded, peering up at them. They muttered something, looking at their feet.

“
Grow up and get on with your work. I have kindling to fetch and little time to do it.” She pushed past Kjartan, not afraid of him anymore, and went to retrieve her bundle.

The men exchanged glances, a little ashamed.

“
Your woman has spirit, Long Reach,” said Kjartan admiringly.

“
She’s not my-“

“
Admit it, brother. You want to poke her so badly its killing you, but she’s betrothed to another so you’re too honourable-“

“
Fuck off!” He pushed him into the undergrowth. “Go and chop the firewood. I’m older so I’m in charge.”

*  *  *

Aelfwyn, unaware of all this, angrily threw twigs into her bundle. Angry with herself for agreeing to Eadbald’s proposition, angry with her parents for arranging it, angry with her lack of choice, angry with Ragnar for- What was she angry with him for? What had he done wrong? He’d only ever been nice to her. She’d felt so contented when he’d held her, she could breathe out at last. His body solid, hard, she’d felt- but it was no use thinking of him. Her wedding to a sensible husband loomed.

She struggled to lift the huge bundle of kindling she had gathered. The twigs scratched her arms, hands and face as she carried it, but she didn’t care. It suited her mood.

“
Need help with that?” Ragnar said and she blushed fiercely. She hadn’t even heard him approach. He took the bundle from her and indicated for her to walk with him.

“
What about your own work?”

“
I come back for that. I ordered Kjartan to chop firewood, to keep him busy.”

They set off towards Byrnstanham in silence. Relieved not to carry the bundle, Aelfwyn’s heart fluttered anyway. What a weakling! Besotted by some Dane who probably didn’t even notice her.

They walked along the well trodden path and the silence became companionable with no need to speak. Birds in the mating season twittered all around, the wind blowing, the trickle of a stream.

“
What’s that noise?” a creaking, groaning, becoming more and more agonised. Aelfwyn looked around for the source, but Ragnar was quicker.

“
That tree. It falls.” Putting the bundle down on the driest patch of earth he could find, he observed the tree. Tall but only about the width of a man, it leaned dangerously.

“
Herewulf’s hut is just there. Will it hit the roof if it falls?”

Ragnar glanced quickly from the tree to the hut, calculating. “Yes.”

He leapt towards the tree and put his arms round it. It was only just broader than him. He dug his feet into the soft earth, scrabbling for purchase. “Get the people out of there.”

Aelfwyn ran to the entrance. “Get out! Or a tree will fall on your roof!” But there was no answer. She looked back to Ragnar, struggling as he and the tree fought for supremacy.

“
Go for help!” he gasped.

Aelfwyn sprinted off, glad for once to be small and slender. If that tree fell on the hut, a whole family’s livelihood would be ruined. The nearest village was Hallfridby, she must head for that, even though it would be a difficult run up the high ground chosen for its defensive position, and the Danes might be unwelcoming. No time to worry about etiquette however. She accelerated, hoping to be fast enough to cover the distance in time.

*  *  *

Ragnar braced himself, pushing against the tree. If only the ground was harder he could get some purchase but the recent rains had loosened it into mud. If he could just alter the course of the fall, that would be something but he could hardly even slow it down. He dug his heels in, slipping and sliding in the dirt, pushing with all his strength, but the tree sank slowly towards the hut, whatever he did.

*  *  *

“
Help!” shrieked Aelfwyn as she reached the gate of Hallfridby, panting from running uphill. There were two Huskarlr at the entrance, not on guard duty during daylight, but they still looked forbidding, towering over her. Their uncomprehending looks met hers.

“
Ragnar! Danger! Help!” She pointed in the direction of their kinsman.

Fortunately, they knew words of Anglisc, and their expressions changed to concern.

“
Ragnar! A tree is falling!” She gasped. “At the hut of Herewulf.”

One of the Huskarlr patted her down briefly and spoke to the other. She couldn’t be sure but she thought he said she hadn’t any weapons on her.

They beckoned some other Danes forward, as they could not leave their posts. The others were craftsmen, who left their amber work to investigate the fuss.

After some brusque discussion, they set off in the direction Aelfwyn had indicated. She tried to walk with them, but her legs were shaking too much, her breathing ragged.

Suddenly a man knelt in front of her. “On my back. To Ragnar.” She jumped on, he stood and they all strode off together.

*  *  *

Ragnar’s strength was nearly spent. The tree leaned two feet from the hut roof. It was no good, he was not strong enough. He braced his feet against the weak earth, his boots tearing from the strain. If he let go, the tree would fall on him too, squashing him like a rotten apple.

Pounding footsteps made his ears prick up.

“
Here, brother, let me take it from you.” Lini the Fleet Foot. He put his arms around the tree as well, pushing back against the sodden soil. “The others are coming, do not worry.” The tree shuddered but continued to fall. Lini’s talent was running, not strength and Ragnar was too weakened to carry on.

Then the Danish group arrived. Four of them stepped up, taking the tree from him and easing it to the ground amidst shouts of instruction and encouragement.

Ragnar stepped away, breathing hard. The pain in his shoulders and neck, and most of his body, should not be mentioned to the others. He sat down in the mud, too exhausted to care about spoiling his clothes.

“
You did well, Long Reach.” Viglund the Stalwart patted him on the shoulder. “Let’s hope the Anglisc appreciate it.”

Ragnar looked up and smiled, a weak version of his normal grin. He became aware of Aelfwyn in the background and Viglund faded.

She stepped forward and crouched next to him. “You are really brave. You could have been killed.” She touched his shoulder gently and he allowed himself to grimace with pain.

“
I’m not surprised you are hurt. Let me see. I could put something on it to help the pain.” She tried to unpeel the torn threads of his over tunic, but he shook her off, aware his kin were watching.

“
Sorry.” She leapt back as if burnt. She wasn’t sure how much he’d understood of what she’d just said. What had she been thinking, touching his arm in public like that? It seemed well to cuddle him in private, but she didn’t want to embarrass him.

“
You did well today. Herewulf and Mildrith will be grateful you saved their home.” She stood up, nodded formally and backed away.

Ragnar moved his arm, giving himself pain on purpose. How stupid he’d been to push her away like that. Just because he knew his fellow Danes would mock him for admiring an Anglisc girl. What a fool. He rotated his arm but had to stop due to the discomfort.

“
I think you need rest and ale, my friend.” Bjarni appeared next to him. “You’ve gone very pale.”

Ragnar grunted in reply, still examining his injuries.

“
Is that due to your exertions, or the attentions of a certain woman?” Bjarni teased. “Now you’re blushing, what should I assume from that?”

“
Enough! I will drink ale. That will solve my problem.”

Bjarni laughed. “If only that were true.” He helped him up, and they set off towards the village, Ragnar trying not to show how much it hurt to move.

“
What are you doing here anyway? I thought you were on duty?” asked Ragnar, gritting his teeth.

“
Couldn’t let my best friend be crushed by a tree, could I? Not without watching.”

Ragnar thumped him on the arm, frowning with the pain.

“
You shouldn’t let a woman distract you from your life,” advised Bjarni, walking slowly to keep pace with him. “Women come and go, but enjoyment, companionship and honour are the important things.”

Ragnar was not so sure. Bjarni the Charmer only had to smile at a woman and she fell into his bed, but it rarely worked for him, being simply tall and not handsome. He must not dwell on it, ale and sleep were what he needed now. He must concentrate on those.