"You killed my father and my brother," she shrieked, frustrated, at him. "I hate you! I will always hate you!" And I hate that d.a.m.ned calm voice of yours too, she thought.

He aimed the thin length of leather at her back, and was quite satisfied when she cried out. He followed the first blow with several others until her smooth skin was crisscrossed with pale red weals. Still he was not satisfied. After her first soft cry, more of distress than pain, she had clamped her lips shut and refused to make any sound. Angrily he looked about the barn. Nearby was a bale of hay. Kicking it with his foot he found it was solid, and untying her hands so he might free her from the post, he forced her facedown upon the bale, his fingers tightly grasping the dog collar to keep her under control despite her struggles. Then he retied her hands, looping the leather about her slim wrists, cruelly yanking her arms forward over her head.

Content that his prey was again helpless, he doubled the leather strap, and without ceremony brought it down across her naked b.u.t.tocks. Mairin yelped and squirmed in an effort to escape him, but with a grin of satisfaction he clamped a hand on the back of her neck and began to rain a series of hard blows upon her posterior.

She had never been beaten in her entire life, for Aldwine and Eada had been gentle parents. She knew that being whipped, and sometimes severely, was commonplace behavior amongst parents and children, husbands and wives, but even Josselin had treated her with kindness. She wanted to defy Eric Longsword, but she could not under these conditions. As her stomach was weak for strong wine, so her body could not bear the brutal punishment that he was now administering to her. She could not prevent herself from screaming, from begging him to cease his torture.

"Please," she shrieked, "in the name of the Blessed Mother! Stop! Stop!"

"Not until you admit that I am your lord! That you belong to me, and to no other man!" he ground out through gritted teeth.

"I cannot, I cannot," she sobbed, the tears pouring down her face.

"You can, and you will!" he shouted at her, and redoubled his efforts, laying blow after blow upon her already red bottom.

She felt as if she were on fire, and made a desperate effort to struggle away from him. She had to escape the pain he was inflicting upon her. Then it came to her that whatever she might say to him would not change the truth, whatever he might wish to believe. She was Josselin's wife no matter what Eric Longsword thought, and as that thought penetrated her brain, so did her intense desire to survive this experience, to escape him and return to her family.

"You are my lord, Eric!" she screamed at him. "You are my lord!"

"Wh-what?" For a moment he seemed confused. "What do you say, Mairin Aldwinesdotter?"

"I yield to you," she said. "You are my lord." Her backside was aching, and she was shaking inside. Let him believe me, dear G.o.d, she silently prayed.

"Yes, I am your lord, and it has taken you long enough to accept it, Mairin Aldwinesdotter." Rolling her over he lifted her off the bale and carried her to a pile of straw in an empty horse stall. "Now we will consummate our union," he said, laying her down and fumbling with his clothing as he lay atop her.

He was going to rape her! My G.o.d, what had she done in admitting that he was her lord? She had given him virtual permission to attack her! "Please," she pleaded with him, "don't do this thing, Eric Longsword!"

His body lay atop her, pressing her down into the hay. His cold blue eyes stared into her face. "Have you lied to me then, Mairin? Either you accept me as your lord, or you do not. Did you lie to stop the beating?"

"No! No!" His look terrified her. "It is just that I do not feel I know you. It is all so sudden." Her teeth worried her lower lip.

"If you really accept me as your lord then you must accept this. Most are wed without a long acquaintance." He pushed himself off her and stood up. "I want to see you naked," he said, and pulled her to her feet to undo her bonds.

Mairin rubbed her freed wrists for a moment. There was no way she knew to escape him short of death, and she wasn't that brave. A tear slid down her cheek. How could she ever face her husband again after this animal had soiled her and spoilt her for Josselin? His fingers hooked themselves into her collar.

"Remove your garments," he said, and Mairin, having no other choice, did. When she stood nude before him he stared for several moments at her, and then releasing his grip upon her, spread her cloak upon the straw, pushing her down upon it. He stood above her, his legs spread, licking his dry lips like a diner contemplating a good meal. Then without warning, he fell upon her like a madman.

Mairin couldn't help herself. She fought him wildly, but he did not seem to mind. Indeed her struggles seemed to serve as a spur to his ardor. His big hands were everywhere upon her body, squeezing and pinching and fondling. He smothered her with his wet kisses, jamming his tongue into her mouth with a ferocity that left her gagging with disgust, but he didn't seem to notice. Now his lips fastened themselves upon her nipples, and he suckled upon her with strange grunting noises, and when she tried to push him away, his teeth punished her, and she screamed with genuine pain.

His pa.s.sion was a frenzied one, and now he began to moan and mutter at her. " 'Tis time, Mairin! 'Tis time for me to f.u.c.k you!" He pulled her into the curve of his arm to contain her struggles, looking down into her face as his hand fumbled between her thighs. "You'll like my f.u.c.king, Mairin! All the little girls liked my f.u.c.king!"

She felt his fingers invading her body, eager and thrusting.

"I'm called Eric Longsword for two reasons," he whispered lewdly at her. His breath was foul. "Do you know why, Mairin? Can you guess why?" His fingers were working fiercely within her. "Ahhhh, sweetheart, that's so good! How long I have waited to put myself into your sweet body!" The fingers moved back and forth, back and forth. "Tell me you like my f.u.c.king, Mairin!"

She was horrified. Only his fingers had violated her. Was this some terrible joke? Was he only waiting to complete his rape of her? Then suddenly Eric Longsword stiffened, and throwing back his head, howled a Viking war cry before collapsing next to her. His hand fell away from her body, and Mairin was absolutely stunned. She didn't know what to think. What to do. Then hearing a small snore, she turned her head cautiously to discover Eric Longsword had fallen asleep beside her even as Josselin might have done after a bout of love.

She could not believe what had just happened. Was this to be all he was going to do to her? He had behaved exactly like a man who had made love to a woman, and yet he had not really coupled with her. She knew she should be grateful to have escaped him, but she was frightened too. Had he been drunk from the liquid he had earlier imbibed? When he awoke, would he remember what had happened and right the mistake upon his part? Mairin was totally confused.

She lay upon her woolen cloak, her injured posterior alternately burning and itching, and stared up into the rafters of the barn. There was no doubt in her mind now that she was in the possession of a madman. If he was a sound sleeper she might obtain the opportunity to slit his throat, for the small feminine purse hanging from her girdle contained a little knife. If she killed him, however, how could she escape, and which way would she go? Outside their shelter a storm was howling and roaring. She had absolutely no real idea of where they were. Common sense told her that she had to stay with him until the storm stopped, and until they reached some sort of civilization.

She wondered again about what had pa.s.sed between them tonight. Had he really believed that he was coupling with her, or had it been some macabre joke on his part? Would he go further the next time? She had been absolutely terrified and ashamed by the thought that another man could use her as only Josselin had the right to do. The very thought of making love with her captor repelled her. If he meant to attack her further, how was she to hold him off? It was this thought that warred with her more practical side.

Mairin shivered, and coming back to her senses, realized she was freezing in the drafty barn. She sat up, and turning, looked at Eric Longsword. His mouth was open, and from it emitted a series of loud snores. It was obvious that he was sleeping deeply. Mairin cautiously arose to her feet, and reached for her camise, which she quickly slipped on. Next she stepped into her skirts, and pulling them up, fastened the b.u.t.tons with trembling fingers. Her tunic top slid silently over her head, and picking up her girdle she fastened it loosely about her waist. She could already feel the warmth seeping back into her veins. Burrowing back into the hay of the horse's stall, she drew the piece of the cloak he was not lying on over her.

Sleep would not come. Mairin was much too anxious. Where were they going? Scotland was every bit as big a country as England. She had to gain more information from her captor, and that would mean playing his game. He wanted a docile lump of a female, and she would be one for him as long as it suited her purpose. He had no blood ties to Scotland, and therefore, he had sworn an allegiance to someone with power. He would be returning to his overlord, and it was that overlord to whom Mairin would appeal. But how long? How long until they reached that power? How many nights must she bear his advances? Would those advances eventually become the final intimacy? Dear G.o.d! she thought. This is a nightmare, and I pray the Blessed Mother that I live long enough to awaken from it.

They awoke to a clear day. The sky was bright blue, and a cold yellow sun shone down upon the snowy landscape. Mairin, her violet eyes lowered modestly, followed Eric Longsword back into the main room of the cottage. Seeing the purplish bruise upon her cheekbone, and her now quiet demeanor, the other men in the cottage grinned apishly at one another, and then at Eric with obvious approval.

"Did she yell louder when ye beat her, or when ye stuck it to her?" demanded the loutish Fergus.

"What do you think?" said Eric with a grin. He slid an arm about Mairin, and openly fondled a breast.

Mairin flushed, but remained silent and still.

"She'll be my tamed little b.i.t.c.h now, won't ye, lovey?"

"Aye, my lord." The words were half-whispered.

"Sorcha's made a wee bit of oat stirabout. Help yerselves, but quickly. We must be off soon."

Mairin managed to discreetly detach herself from Eric Longsword's grasp, and going to the fireplace where the three Scotswomen huddled, she saw a single remaining trencherloaf. She looked for permission from the women, and the eldest of them nodded at her.

"Take it, la.s.s," she said in an almost friendly tone. " 'Tis the last of the bread we carried from York. 'Twill be the oatcakes and dried beef from now on until we reach Edinburgh."

"Thank you." Mairin sliced the loaf in half with the knife the woman proffered. Better not to let them know she possessed a weapon of her own. Scooping out part of one half of the trencher she filled it with the thick cereal, and gave it to Eric. He took it from her without a word, and began to spoon the oat porridge into his mouth with his fingers. Mairin turned back to the fireplace, and put a little of the mixture into her own half of the trencherloaf and began to eat quickly. She knew enough to know that this was no courtly society, and that when Eric was finished eating she had best be finished too.

Edinburgh! So they were headed for Edinburgh, Scotland's chief city. She couldn't be certain, but she would wager that Eric Longsword had pledged his loyalty to King Malcolm. That would mean he would be taking her to court, provided she remained the docile female he believed a woman should be. She knew men enough now to know that he would want to show off her beauty to other men. To be envied, and to be congratulated upon his good fortune in having such a beautiful woman for his own.

"How far is Edinburgh?" she softly asked the woman who had spoken to her. Her voice was guileless. Her expression bland.

"At this time of year? Five to seven days," came the reply. "We'll be making our own path, ye see, with the roads snowed over like they are. If the roads was clear 'twould be no more than three days." The woman reached out and touched the bruise upon Mairin's cheekbone. She winced. "He wasna gentle," the woman said, "but ye'll heal before we reach the city."

The men had finished with their meal, and realizing that she would see little, if any, food before nightfall, Mairin hurried to cram the rest of the cereal and bread into her mouth, washing it down with water from a cup her talkative companion was kind enough to offer her. The horses were saddled, and they began their journey north once more. As yesterday, Mairin rode before Eric Longsword upon his large horse. Today, however, he did not hold the leather lead to prevent her escape. Instead he slipped his hand around her to clamp it tightly about her breast, and as they rode he kneaded her flesh with such regularity that she thought she would go mad. She could already feel the black-and-blue marks he was impressing into her skin.

They rode the entire day, stopping only once to relieve themselves in the bushes along their route. That night they sheltered in a barn, and because there was no privacy, he did not attempt to use her, although she heard the sounds of coupling from the others in the dark of the otherwise silent barn. It was that way for the next few days. Oatcakes, dried beef, and water at dawn and nightfall. A long day in the saddle with Eric crushing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as they went. Cold and dark nights in either a barn or, as one night, in an empty sheep fold.

Mairin was becoming exhausted. Never had she been faced with such hardship, but she was determined to survive, if for no other reason than to have her revenge upon the murderer of her father and Brand. Despite his unwelcome attentions, and the occasional lewd words he whispered in her ear as they rode, she managed to maintain an element of calm. Fear, she realized, was her greatest enemy. Fear could destroy her, leaving her helpless to this madman.

The night before they reached Edinburgh, they were finally able to shelter at an inn. It was a poor place which offered them little privacy, but strangely a decent meal. They sat at a common table, and the serving girl slapped trenchers of a rather tasty concoction of lamb chunks and vegetables before them. Mairin ate hungrily, finishing her meal down to the last crumb of bread, thirstily drinking the bitter ale which, for some reason, tasted delicious to her. Color and warmth began to seep back into her face, and Fergus, looking closely at her for the first time, realized that here was an incredibly beautiful woman.

His beady dark eyes narrowed. "We've shared our women wi' ye, Eric Longsword. Are ye sure ye'll nae give us a taste of this sweet c.u.n.t of yers?"

"Mairin is my wife," Eric said coldly. "You cannot compare her to these trulls of yours."

"Come on, man, what difference can a few more c.o.c.ks up her hole make to her? Hasn't she wh.o.r.ed for the Normans? Did ye ask her how many times they stuffed her, and how many of them she entertained?"

"She was but one man's mistress," Eric replied icily, "and he used her gently. I can forgive her that, and return her to my side as my wife. I will not have her abused by the likes of you. f.u.c.k your own women. I have no intention of sharing my wife with you." He arose, pulling Mairin up behind him, and shouting to the innkeeper, tossed him a coin. "See that my friends have all the whiskey they want," he said, and stamped off dragging Mairin with him.

Eric had managed to secure them a tiny private chamber with a goodsized pallet. Mairin, silent until they reached it, said as he closed the door, "What is your will, my lord?" Please, G.o.d, she prayed, don't let him hurt me again.

Eric checked the door, and finding it had a heavy metal bolt upon it, threw the bolt, saying as he did, "I haven't seen you naked since the first night. Take your clothes off for me, but do it slowly this time."

With shaking fingers Mairin undid her garments, removed them, and carefully laid them aside. When she was finally nude she pirouetted at his command, and then lay down next to him. What followed was almost a replica of their previous night, and afterward when he slept once more Mairin was vastly relieved, and said prayers of grateful thanks. She did not know why he was behaving as he did, but she was enormously glad to have once again escaped being really raped.

When morning came he said to her, "You did not struggle against me last night. Is it that you are coming to enjoy my loving?"

"Is a woman supposed to enjoy lovemaking, my lord?" she fenced with him. "The church teaches us that what we do together is simply for the purpose of begetting children. I try to be a good daughter of the church."

"You are a cold woman, Mairin, and I would not have believed it," he grumbled.

"If I do not please you, my lord, then let me return to my hus . . ." She caught herself in time. ". . . home. My mother is all alone."

He smiled slowly, but his eyes remained like pieces of cold blue lapis stone, hard and unfeeling. "In time," he told her, "I will have you burning inside like hot coals for my glance. It has been hard for us upon the road, but tomorrow we will enter Edinburgh, and I have a small house there where we will live for the time being until I have earned lands from the king. At least there we will have our privacy, and I will f.u.c.k you regularly each night. You have obviously not been f.u.c.ked enough, for if you had, you would like it better. In a few weeks I will have you clawing and yelling with pa.s.sion every time I get you on your back. There will come a time when you will not be able to get enough of my loving. I know how to keep a woman happy."

"Yes, my lord," she answered him coolly, but her mind had pounced upon the information that he was now a liegeman of King Malcolm. If she could just get him to take her to the Scots court. If she could get to the king and queen and tell them her tale, surely they would help her. She knew that Josselin would come to her rescue if he only knew where she was, but how could he know under the circ.u.mstances? She had to find some way of telling him, and the king and queen seemed to her to be her only path.

Mairin had learned from Eric as they had traveled from England that their companions were freedmen, Scots who hired out their allegiance for a price. They had gone to York at the behest of the king, with Eric Longsword as their captain, to gather information as to the true strength of King William's armies, and the real mood of the English people. The border country on both sides of the Cheviot Hills was always in dispute between England and Scotland. The raiding that went on back and forth was not unusual, but King Malcolm wanted to know if his young brother-in-law really had a serious chance of regaining the throne of England before he committed any more of his time or his gold to such a project.

Malcolm of Scotland was in love with his wife, the Atheling's elder sister, Margaret. If Scotland's aid could make the difference between the boy regaining his throne or not, he was willing to help Edgar for the love he bore his wife. If, however, as he suspected, there was no real chance of Edgar ruling England, he wanted to know that also. His Meg was not stupid, and she wouldn't want him wasting lives and gold that were Scotland's. Not now. Now that she was expecting their first child.

Eric Longsword and his companions traveled the remaining distance into Edinburgh by early afternoon. It was there that he and Mairin left Fergus and his friends, who hurried off to a nearby tavern with their women.

"Will I get to see the king and his queen?" asked Mairin of her captor. Her request sounded very young and ingenuous to his ears.

"I don't know if I want to share you with other people right now," he pondered.

"You do not love me at all!" Her tone sounded injured, and she pouted at him adorably.

"Mairin, I do love you!" he protested. "I would do anything to make you happy."

"Then take me to see the king and queen," Mairin responded. "A woman can be a great help to a man who is seeking to advance himself, especially a beautiful woman like me." She gave him a flirtatious little smile.

"How is that so?" he asked her. He sounded suspicious.

"Silly," she said to him, then she giggled. "If these Scots see what a beautiful wife you have they will think you must be very worthy of their consideration. After all, you would not have a beautiful wife if you weren't worthy, now would you?"

He thought a moment, and decided that she might be right. "Perhaps you are correct," he said grudgingly. "Still I am loath to have other men admiring your beauty. We have had so little time together."

"I cannot be happy with you, Eric, unless I am allowed to go to court," she told him, and then her voice grew wheedling. "If you take me to court to see the king and queen, I will show you some of the lovemaking tricks I learned from Prince Basil in Byzantium."

"I am surprised that that half-man could even get it up for you." Eric sneered.

Mairin gave another simple giggle. "Ohh, you would be surprised what Basil could do," she implied suggestively, turning her head to look guilelessly up at him. Slowly her tongue licked back and forth over her upper lip.

Eric felt his heartbeat accelerate. He had heard that there were secret erotic arts known only to a few in Byzantium. Someone such as he would have never had access to such things. Mairin was telling him that she was acquainted with these arts, that she would practice them upon him, share her knowledge with him, and all he had to do was show her off to the Scots court. G.o.d only knew it was a simple woman's request. Of course she wanted to see the Scots king and his consort. It was just the kind of thing a female would desire, and she offered him so much in return, adorable little fool that she was. "Well," he said, "perhaps in a few days when you have rested I could take you to meet the king, for I must go myself to render my report. We've traveled very hard, Mairin. You look exhausted. We could use hot food and a good night's rest in a decent bed."

"And a bath!" she said.

They had been riding through the city as they spoke, and now he stopped before a small house on a respectable street. "This is where we will live," he said.

The house was built of stone, as were most houses in the north. It was not very big, but it had two stories and the roof seemed sound. Walking about the main floor of the building she found there was a little garden in the rear that had its own well, a veritable luxury. At least she wouldn't have to walk to the public fountain for water. The house, however, was filthy. It was obvious that its previous tenant had not been much of a housekeeper.

Taking charge, she imperiously set Eric to hauling water from the well, which she boiled in a large black iron caldron hung over the hot coals of the fireplace. He first had to sweep a nest of mice from the cold hearth before he might even lay the fire. They scampered off noisily, but Mairin ignored them. Time enough to get a cat, and besides, once she got to court she would escape Eric Longsword and his musty house.

Having found a broom in good repair, Mairin vigorously swept the larger of the two rooms upon the main floor of the house. The smaller room was obviously a pantry of sorts. The dust removed from the floors, and the cobwebs from the corners, she scrubbed down the oak trestle with the hot water using a half-bristled brush she had found in the other room. Next came the benches.

"I didn't bring you to Scotland to be a servant," he complained to her. "I will get you a serving wench tomorrow."

"If you think I am spending a night in this place without cleaning it, you are mistaken, Eric Longsword! I know your mother did not keep a dirty hall. If there is not an oak tub in this place, then I implore you to go to the barrelmaker and bring me back one. I must have a bath tonight." She smiled at him. "You may watch me bathe if you like," she tempted.

With a grin he left her, saying as he went, "I will stop at the bakehouse and bring us supper too. We can visit the market tomorrow, but tonight we must eat."

In his absence, Mairin hurried upstairs to the second floor of the house to find but one loftlike room with a large bed within it. Opening the wooden shutters on the single window, she let the cold January air into the room while she beat the hangings of the bed free of dust and cobwebs. In the trunk at the bed's foot, she found well-worn but clean sheets, the faint odor of lavender clinging to them as evidence of some past owner. Mairin yanked the dusty fur coverlet from the bed, and shook it out of the window, leaving it to air until she remade the bed with the clean linen. The coverlet restored to its place, she closed the shutters and barred them. The room was now freezing, but it was clean and smelt fresh.

Downstairs once more she added more fuel to the fire, and closing the door into the back garden, sat down to rest from her labors. How soon would Eric take her to court? How long before she might escape him and his hateful attentions? At least he was fooled by her att.i.tude. He seemed to like the childish silliness she affected in her effort to disarm him. Despite the gravity of her situation, she found it amusing that knowing her so little he had still desired her. Of course it was her beauty that had attracted him. Her curst beauty! Her beauty which had been responsible for all the real unhappiness she had ever suffered in her life.

Eric returned triumphant, bringing with him an oaken tub which was carried by the cooper's two apprentices. "Where do you want it?" he demanded of her.

"Here," she said. "On this side of the fireplace."

The oaken tub was placed according to her directions, and the two young men departed.

"It's not very large, I know," he said, "but the cooper's wife said it was large enough."

"It is," she answered. "Since we have no servants you will have to put it in the pantry after I have bathed. You must bathe too, Eric Longsword. You stink worse than a dung cart!"

"Very well," he agreed with her, "but first I have brought our dinner from the bakeshop. There was no selection. I hope you like rabbit, and here is bread, and I know you like apples." He placed his purchases upon the newly cleaned table. "Let us eat," he said, sitting himself down at the trestle. He tore the roasted rabbit in two, and shoved the smaller half in her direction.

No wonder the table was so filthy, she thought. She reached for the loaf, and broke off a piece for herself. They spoke not at all as they went about the business of eating their meal. Mairin was careful to lick all the grease from her fingers, using a piece of bread for a final cleanup. She did not want to get her only skirt and tunic dirty. Part of proving to King Malcolm and his wife who she was would be her appearance. She couldn't look slovenly. She must be every inch the lady of Aelfleah.

"Shall I fill the tub with hot water for you?" he asked her when they had finished the meal and she was storing the leftovers in the pantry.

"Please," she answered.

He emptied the large open kettle of boiling water into the oaken tub, and then added several buckets of cold water from the well so that the temperature of the bath was comfortable. Having rescrubbed the table clean, Mairin began to undress before the fire. There was no need for false modesty on her part as he had already seen her naked on several occasions. Stepping into the tub, she sat down to enjoy a soak. There was no soap with which she might wash, but a rough cloth was enough to scrub away the grime of her travels once the warm water had loosened the dirt. It was not a bath over which she wished to linger, and so when she was done she stepped quickly from the still-warm water, shaking herself like a puppy as she did to remove the excess water.

"Let me," he said, coming forward with a small piece of clean cloth with which he proceeded to rub her dry. When he had finished he said, "Take your garments, and get into bed, Mairin. I will bathe and join you shortly."

She didn't argue with him. It was much too cold away from the fire. She had hoped to launder her camise in the bathwater, but that could be done in the morning. She doubted they would go to court tomorrow. Gaining the bedchamber, she carefully laid her skirts and tunic over the linen trunk, and climbed between the icy sheets. When he followed her several minutes later, he was wearing his tunic. It is strange, she thought as he joined her. He seems to enjoy seeing me naked, Mairin thought, but I have never seen him naked. Then she counted her blessings, for she knew she didn't want to see him unclothed.

Reaching out, he pulled her into his arms. "It is cold," he said. "Let us warm each other."

As she was clasped tightly in his embrace, Mairin's heart hammered with her fear. She was still not convinced he didn't intend to rape her, and tonight would certainly tell the tale. His actions upon their journey might have simply stemmed from a fastidiousness. He could be a man who simply liked his comforts. She almost cried out, catching herself in time, as he began to fondle her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

For several long minutes he contented himself with squeezing, pressing, and cupping her flesh. Noisily he sucked upon her nipples as he had on the other nights in which he had abused her. Tonight, however, he seemed in no great rush, as he had on the other nights, to cease in his sport. Slowly his tongue encircled each nipple in its turn. Mairin shifted uncomfortably. In the past he had been in haste to have her in his own strange fashion. It was not so tonight. He took a nipple between his thumb and two fingers, and pulling the flesh out, pinched it hard.

She whimpered.