‘Once we return to our homelands all accounts will be settled and your people will be notified.’ He placed a hand on her shoulder.
‘Accounts?’
‘We came to trade—amber, fur and soapstone. Our season had been good until we encountered the Scotsman.’ He gave a sudden smile. ‘Now it is excellent. All of Northumbria will know what happened here and they will not be as quick to cheat us. We have earned their respect.’
‘You will not find the rest of my country so easy. You attacked monks, men of God. Lindisfarne was a centre of learning. Northumbrians have long memories.’
A flash of unease passed through his blue eyes, but that was all. ‘Your religion is not our religion. We worship the Aesir with Odin and Thor.’
‘All Europe will recoil in horror. They will refuse to trade with you.’
‘They will trade, Annis.’ He wore a superior smile on his lips. ‘They will trade because they want our goods—our furs and amber. And the next time they will be more honest in their dealings with the Norse. It is the way of things.’
Annis wrapped her arms about her waist as she silently watched the last few remaining sparks from the church fly into the air. She refused to cry. She hated these pagan warriors. If only Haakon had not taken her knife from her, she would stick it in him. Happily. She turned her face and examined the stains on her gown. That thought was a lie. She did not want to see this Viken warrior dead, despite what he had done here. He had saved her life—twice.
Dimly she realised Haakon was speaking again.
‘You will keep on the cloak, and follow me if you value your life.’
‘Where are you taking me?’ Annis hated the way her voice quivered.
‘You will be with the other prisoners, since you are so determined to join them.’
‘Who else have you taken?’ Annis thought of the gentle brothers and their community here. Most of their time had been devoted to illuminating the gospels. How long would they last in the hands of a pagan?
‘Strong men, and the leaders of the community, if they are still alive. There were not many left. I will ask your pope in Rome for ransom.’
‘I pray to God he pays it.’
‘The wind begins to shift. We have what we came for. I must see to the ships.’ He started off, then turned back. His eyebrow arched. ‘If you value your life, keep the cloak on and do not try my patience. There are some who will see you as taking up space that could be better occupied by a chest of gold. You should be grateful, Annis of Birdoswald. You belong to me now. There are worse fates.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘Thrand tells me you have found a woman.’ Haakon’s fellow Jaarl and old friend’s voice broke into Haakon’s concentration.
‘And…’ Haakon turned from where he was contemplating the chests of silver and gold coins. The main problem was how to transport so much back to Viken on the Golden Serpent. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought a raid would be that successful. And it was not even meant to have been a raid. The weight would have to be carefully distributed.
‘We had an agreement—no women on this voyage. They do not fetch enough money. Yours will have to share the same fate as the others.’
Haakon gritted his teeth and drew himself up to his full height. He did not have to explain his actions to anyone. ‘Circumstances have changed.’
‘Thrand says that she is a kitchen wench. He discovered her by the kitchen spoils.’
‘My half-brother says many things and some of them are true. But not this one.’
Why had Thrand not kept his mouth shut? He had no cause to go complaining to another Jaarl. The success of this voyage, even before today’s raid, meant that Thrand would have enough money to buy an estate. Haakon’s stepmother could finally depart. For far too long she had presided over the farm Haakon had inherited from his father, determined that she should be given prestige and favours, making little secret of her annoyance that he, and not her son, was the eldest.
‘The woman Thrand is speaking of is the daughter of a Northumbrian lord. Think of her value.’
‘Then you don’t intend to bed her?’
‘I had not given the matter much thought,’ Haakon lied. He glanced back to where Annis stood, proud and defiant. A slight breeze whipped a strand of hair into her mouth. With impatient fingers she pushed it away. His blood stirred with the memory of the way her body had moved against his, softly arching. He would have her, but when he did she would participate fully. Not here amongst the rubble, but somewhere quiet where he could take his time and enjoy the delights of her body.
‘Will the family pay the ransom?’
‘I believe so. Trust me on this, old friend. The woman sails to Viken.’
Vikar stood stony faced with crossed arms, but Haakon held his gaze until Vikar’s face relaxed and he broke into a wide smile. He leant forward and thumped Haakon on his back.
‘Trust you? I would sail into the Midgard Serpent’s lair with you and expect to return with my ship full of gold.’
Haakon experienced a sense of relief. With Vikar on his side, there would be few who would openly question his decision to hold Annis captive, rather than simply taking her and abandoning her. He would not welcome an open break with his fellow Jaarls, but he also knew where his duty lay. Annis deserved his protection.
Haakon started to reposition the chest of gold coins more centrally in the ship. Gradually he became aware Vikar was still standing there, regarding him with a quizzical expression. For what other reason had his fellow Jaarl sought him out?
‘Tell me, though, Haakon, is there any truth to the other tale your half-brother spreads? Did you best Bjorn in a fair fight?’
‘Bjorn is dead and I was the only warrior there when he died. I will pay the appropriate price to his family. But hear this and understand, Vikar—he raised his sword first. I am no oath-breaker.’
Vikar nodded, seemingly satisfied. ‘Thorkell would expect no less.’
‘I always fulfil my obligations, Vikar.’
Annis rested her head against the bulwark of the long ship. She and a dozen monks were all that she had seen—all that had survived? She did not want to think about the bustling place Lindisfarne had been. How many men. How many women. Her mind shied away from all that.
She should stand up and take a last view of Lindisfarne, but her legs refused to move. Maybe it was better this way. She had seen the smouldering remains of the buildings as she and the other prisoners had been marched down to the beach. One monk had tried to escape and had been dealt with summarily. After that, no one moved.
A welling up of noise filled the boat.
‘Viken! Viken! Viken!’
‘What are they shouting?’ a monk asked in a hoarse whisper.
‘Viken—it is where they are from,’ Annis answered. Anything to keep her from thinking about the terrible events.
‘Vikings? They come from no place. All they are, are heathen pirates. They despoiled God’s holy place. Their souls will suffer eternal damnation,’ another monk who had a pockmarked face proclaimed. Annis vaguely recognised him from her uncle’s retinue—Aelfric. How had he survived when all the others perished? He raised a fist to the blackened sky, raining curses down on the raiders.
‘It is in God’s hands,’ a third said and gave a gasp of pain.
Annis moved, knelt by his side and tried to raise the young man up. ‘Is there anything I can do