Page 118 of The Outlaw Viking

Over and over she experimented, squandering much-needed money as she bought more and more sugar until Ubbi finally put his foot down. “Enough! If he doesn’t like these, I know a part of his body I kin stick ’em in. Besides, yer turnin’ the wee ones sick with all this tastin’.”

Rain smiled sheepishly. He was right, and she knew as well as he did that most times the children pretended to like her candies just to avoid hurting her feelings. Actually, the last batch wasn’t too terrible, and she wrapped several dozen of the squiggly shapes in thick parchment, tied it with a bright ribbon, and put it under the tree.

By the time Christmas arrived and they all sat before the fire—the candle-lit tree a beautiful sight in the corner, a wonderful feast cooking on the fire—her hopes began to falter. Selik still hadn’t come for her.

Days went by, then weeks. The winter winds howled outside, and the Christmas tree, which she’d doggedly refused to dismantle, shed more and more of its needles, a stark reminder of her dying hopes.

Ubbi and the children shifted their eyes in pity when she passed, and Rain began to accept what they already knew. Selik was not coming back. Ever.

Two weeks after Christmas, when they arrived back at the farmstead after a trip to Jorvik to visit with Gyda, her worst fears came true. A wounded and distraught Gorm lay before the fire, being tended by Blanche and Ubbi. All the children cowered in the background, huddled together in fright.

“What happened?” she cried out, running to his side. She threw off her mantle and began to examine his injuries. None of them was serious, except for some cracked ribs, which she bound tightly with strips of linen, but bruises and cuts covered his entire body from head to foot.

“’Tis bad, m’lady,” he told her, turning grim eyes up to hers as she worked over him. “What happened…’tis very bad.”

Rain didn’t ask about Selik. She feared the answer.

“King Athelstan’s men were waiting near the Humber where the master’s longship was hidden.”

Rain inhaled sharply. Please, God. Please!

“They killed three of our men outright. Two others they tortured to death.” Gorm swallowed repeatedly as if to hold down a vomitous bile, and his eyes widened and glazed over with the gruesome images in his mind.

Rain clenched her fists tightly, tears streaming down her face—afraid to know Selik’s fate, but at the same time, needing to know.

“They left me fer dead, thinkin’ all the blood on my chest was mine, but ’twas Snorr’s. Oh, God, ’twas Snorr’s. I bin delirious with fever in a cotter’s hut these past sennights.”

His eyes held Rain’s then, almost in pity, and she braced herself for what would come next.

“They took the master captive. They did terrible things to him afore they took him off. Oh, holy Thor, they did. If only I could have killed him afore they left, I would have and gladly. For he is truly better off dead than in the hands of such villains.”

Rain honed in on only one thing. Selik was alive. Thank You, God!

“Where did they take him?” she asked, her mind already cataloging all that she would need to do in preparation for her journey.

“Winchester. To King Athelstan.”

Rain nodded, having expected as much. “I need to get to Winchester. Perhaps I can convince King Athelstan to release Selik. He always said the king has great admiration for healers.”

“But he has even more hatred for Selik,” Ubbi noted regretfully. “Ye must know that.”

“Yes, but I’ve heard he’s a compassionate king, willing to listen to both sides.”

He shook his head doubtfully.

“Ubbi, you go into Jorvik and tell Gyda I need two horses so Gorm and I can go to Winchester.”

“Three horses,” Blanche interrupted. “I go, too.”

They all looked at her in surprise. “I know my way around Winchester. I lived nearby most of my years.”

Rain thought for a second, then agreed, “Three horses. Also, Ubbi, tell Gyda to send more of Selik’s money, and ask her if she or Ella can send someone out to help you with the children.”

“I will not be stayin’ this time,” Ubbi declared vehemently.

“You have to, Ubbi,” Rain pleaded. “Who else will take care of all the children?”

“I will,” Adam spoke up. “And do not be thinkin’ I cannot do it, either. If ye leave me with a bit of coin, I kin manage a few measly orphans.”