Page 20 of The Outlaw Viking

Ubbi rolled his eyes mischievously toward the sleeping furs. “Didst find the furs soft enuf fer yer fair skin, milady?”

Rain laughed at Ubbi’s transparent curiosity about whether she and his master had slept together. “No, Ubbi, I didn’t make love with Selik last night.”

Ubbi clapped a gnarled hand in exaggerated dismay to his chest. “Oh, mistress, a thousand pardons. I know ye did not mate with the master.”

“You know?”

“Yea, ’twould be a far better mood my lord would be in if he had eased himself ’atween yer thighs,” Ubbi said impudently, an impish gleam twinkling in his cloudy eyes.

Rain smiled and shook her head. She liked this crafty fellow.

They walked back companionably to the clearing, where large groups of men were hurriedly gathering their weapons, preparing to depart. The Saxons must be getting closer.

“Where are they going?”

Ubbi shrugged. He nodded toward one grizzly-haired giant wearing what looked like a long piece of plaid fabric thrown over his shoulder. “Constantine and his Scots will go back north, no doubt, along with his nephew Eugenius and his Strathclyde Welsh.” The two burly warriors in their primitive splendor were ordering their men into ranks. Constantine’s eyes looked red rimmed and despairing. Ubbi told her the Scots king had lost his son, Prince Ceallagh, in the battle the day before.

Then Ubbi pointed out Anlaf Guthfrithsson, the Viking king of Dublin, commander of all the Norsemen in the Brunanburh battle. Awestruck, Rain hadn’t realized she was in the midst of such historic personages.

She looked back and saw Selik arguing fiercely with Anlaf. Ubbi followed her gaze and commented, “As to that noble cur, ’tis hard to say. Mayhap he will go back to Jorvik and try to regain his Northumbrian empire, but ’tis more likely he will scoot off to Dublin with his tail ’atween his legs.” Ubbi spat on the ground at his feet to show his distaste, then went on, “’Tis said Anlaf has hundreds of ships anchored on the Humber, awaiting his quick departure. One thing is certain, he will not have enough surviving soldiers to man his longboats.”

Rain scrutinized the tall man with the neatly braided blond hair. Cruelty etched his craggy features, and Rain shivered with distaste, sharing Ubbi’s disdain for King Anlaf.

“Where will we go?”

“We?” Ubbi asked with an arched eyebrow.

“You, me, Selik. And whichever of Selik’s men have survived. Are there any, by the way?”

Ubbi shook his head woefully. “Nay, all his hird of faithful retainers were taken in the Great Battle, but there will be others to follow. There always are—those who know his true worth, those brave enough to flaunt Athelstan’s wrath. But pitiful few they will be now.” The little man sighed wearily.

“Then where will we go? To Scotland? Or Wales?”

Ubbi shot her a look of disbelief. “Nay, Constantine and Eugenius welcome my master’s mighty hand in battle, but they will not relish him in their lands now. They slither home to protect their own backs.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Scots and Welsh kings will pledge their traitorous allegiance to the Saxon ruler now that they have lost the Great Battle, ’til it suits them otherwise. ’Twon’t be the first time. But Selik is a marked man they cannot risk harboring.”

“And how about the Viking king?” Rain asked, pointing to Anlaf, who still argued with Selik. “Will he welcome him?”

Ubbi’s lips curled sardonically. “Welcome, nay. But he cannot keep him away. ’Tis certain that is why they bicker now. He prob’ly tries to convince Selik to take his longship and darken Northumbrian shores no more.”

Anlaf finally stomped away from Selik, his face purple with rage. He called angrily to his men to follow him.

Selik’s eyes scanned the area, his back straight, his stubborn chin lifted defiantly, undoubtedly knowing the crowd saw him as an outcast even among his own people. His steely eyes found Rain’s and locked in silent challenge.

Did he expect her to desert him like all the others? She tipped her chin proudly, matching his gesture, hoping he understood that she supported him, no matter what.

Ubbi reached out his misshapen hand and squeezed hers tightly. “Oh, mistress,” he said softly.

Never breaking his visual embrace with her, Selik finally nodded solemnly, indicating his acceptance of her silent pledge of loyalty. Several warriors moved then to his side, as well. Rain’s misty eyes caressed Selik, and her heart swelled in her chest with an overwhelming yearning to ease the pain of this lonely man.

Rain wished she could erase the bleakness in Selik’s eyes and somehow knew she would have to enter his emotional hell to help pull him out. But what would be her fate then? Could she ever return to her own time? And what scars would she carry forevermore?

Chapter Four

Rain watched with dismay as more and more of the soldiers dismantled their tents, gathered their furs and bedding, and left the secluded camp with brisk efficiency. Some departed with military precision under the leadership of Kings Constantine and Anlaf. Others rushed away individually or in small groups, calling out promises to meet later in the northern lands of the Scots, or Dublin where the Norsemen reigned, or Jorvik, the town Rain knew as York.