Her aim had been true!
She turned her head into the warrior’s chain-mailed chest and rested it there, drawing strength from him. His strong arm encircled her. Distantly she could hear the roar of battle and crackle of fire, but closer she heard the thump of his heart. Gradually what she had done sank in.
She had killed. The beast-man was dead, dead by her hand!
Annis pushed against the warrior’s chest and immediately his hands loosened. She staggered a few steps and sank down on an upturned bucket, trying to regain control of her body as shudders went through her.
The smoke-filled air stung her eyes and throat. She should go now, flee and try to get across the causeway, but when she stood, her legs refused to move. If she took another step, she’d sink to her knees.
‘I was sick after my first time.’ A low rumble of a voice filled the room. It was a comforting sort of noise, and flowed over her like fine linen.
Annis glanced over her shoulder at the warrior. Had he spoken? Surely she was hearing things. Such a man would not speak Latin. Heathen raiders such as he did not speak the language of the church. She had to be hearing things. Was that what killing people did? Made you hear voices in your mind? She put her hands to her ears and shook her head to clear it.
The warrior took off his helmet and his dark hair was plastered to his forehead. He was tall, powerfully built with broad shoulders. He ran a hand over the dark stubble on his face.
Annis started. The man she’d saved was the pagan warlord she had seen earlier, the one who had quarrelled with her uncle, the one who was responsible for the attack. She wanted to put her face in her hands and weep. She had saved her uncle’s destroyer. If she had realised, she would have fled as Mildreth had done. She regarded her hands, wondering what he would do now, what he was capable of.
‘You saved my life,’ he said in Latin with only the faintest trace of an accent—not unpleasant, just different. ‘I, Haakon Haroldson, Jaarl of Viken, am in your debt.’
Annis blinked. She had not heard wrong. This raider spoke Latin as well as, if not better than, a Northumbrian noble.
‘Is he dead?’ she asked in Latin. Annis stared at the prone figure.
‘I fear so.’ Something like sorrow crossed his face. He bent down and turned the beast-man face up, muttered something and then closed the beast-man’s unseeing eyes. ‘Bjorn was a fierce fighter. We shall miss him. Great will be the celebrations in Valhalla tonight.’
‘He tried to kill you. And you regret his death.’ Annis stared incredulously at the warrior. ‘How can that be?’
Haakon regarded the woman in front of him. Her dark hair flowed down her back. She was dressed in a simple dark green gown without ornaments, none of the jewellery so beloved of his stepmother or Queen Asa and the ladies of the Viken court. Her sea-green eyes were wide and he could see the trembling starting to set in. This woman had never killed before.
Was she real or one of the Valkyries—the warrior women who scavenged the battlefield for fighters worthy of Valhalla?
‘He was a great warrior, a berserker.’ Haakon looked at Bjorn’s trusty axe.
How many times had he killed? How many men’s lives had he saved with the unhesitating strokes of his axe?
It was unthinkable Bjorn should behave like this, to end his life by breaking his oath and deliberately attacking a member of the felag, his sworn leader. Haakon shook his head. No, Bjorn had to have been too far gone in his blood-lust. He had no idea of what he had attempted to do.
‘A berserker?’
‘He lived for fighting.’ Haakon attempted to think of the Latin words to describe Bjorn, but decided there were none. ‘He was a great warrior.’
She nodded, but her expression remained unconvinced.
Haakon regarded the fallen man. There were many among the fellowship who would seek to kill her for what she had done, demand her blood in retribution for killing a warrior such as Bjorn. He followed the warriors’ code but her actions had saved his life. This was by far the bigger debt.
‘You are under my protection, Valkyrie.’ Haakon rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Tell me what happened here. What did you do to provoke Bjorn?’
She shook her head, and started to back away. Her bottom touched the window ledge and she stopped. She held out her hands and her eyes grew big. ‘I saved your life.’
Something inside Haakon twisted. She expected death. He was not so far gone that he would kill a woman in cold blood.
‘That is why you are under my protection. No harm will come to you.’ Haakon inclined his head. ‘Bjorn was valuable to my people. You must understand this. No one thought he could be killed, least of all by a woman.’
‘He was going to kill you, this…this berserker of yours, after my maid caused you to trip and fall. I did what I would have done for anyone.’ Her voice rose slightly. She scrambled to bring together a few jewels and held them out. ‘Let me go. Leave me here. Take these and go.’
Haakon stared at the slender woman in disbelief. He pushed the jewels away.
Did she realise the penalties? Did she not understand what was happening out there?
When he and his men had finished, no building would remain standing. They had not come seeking this fight, but they refused to turn away from a challenge. The next time, the people of this island might not be so eager to resist the legitimate demands of the Viken. No more would they tolerate those who lied, cheated and attempted to abuse their goodwill. The felag had come to trade, but had found a war.
Her body shook and the area around her mouth was pale. She reminded him of a highly strung horse. He wanted to tame her, to make her understand, so she would be able to live.
‘Where are your warriors?’
‘My warriors?’
‘Yes, the men who would look after you. Such a prize as yourself would not be left unguarded.’
‘All the men here are engaged in fighting you and your kind.’
He gestured towards the small window. ‘Out there, it is a scene from the end of the world. You do not wish to be there.’
‘You are not giving me the option?’ Her green eyes blazed defiantly. ‘It was not me or my people who started this fight. I will go now.’
She started to move past him, but Haakon reached out his hand and held her firmly, preventing her from moving. He could see her heart beating at the base of her throat.
‘If I let you go, you will lose your life. There are others like my friend out there…on both sides.’
Annis angrily tore her arm away. ‘I shall take my chances.’
‘Trust me.’
‘The Abbot was cut down, destroyed with one blow of this man’s axe, and you stood by.’ She choked back the words ‘my uncle’. It would not do for him to
