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more for the workings of his bowels than the workings of a kingdom. I intend to give them a better
choice. Let them see what a strong arm and a strong heart can do against invaders." He glanced around
the compound. "Bring that scald from Northumbria. He speaks the cursed Viking tongue. We will have
what we want from this man, won't we, Raedwald?"
Britta could see Raedwald's conflicting emotions chase across his face. He was excited and nervous in
turns. "Just as you broke the traitor Braedel& "
Britta's stomach clenched as Off a noticed her. She looked away and busied herself with her pots, though
they rattled in her shaking hands.
"Healer." Britta could not look at him. His voice laughed at her fear. "Bind up the Viking's wounds. But
simply keep him from bleeding to death." As he turned to go, Britta let out the breath she had been
holding. But then he stopped and turned back to her. "I will have need of a woman tonight, after I finish
with the Dane," he announced. He bent to her. "If you please me, I will keep you by me. Your father had
great power." His breath was an intimate promise in her ear.
Britta felt rather than heard him stride away. She looked up at Henewulf with tears of accusation in her
eyes. "You said you would protect me."
The warrior gave a guilty start and looked down at her. "It is a great thing to be Offa's woman. Your
power of healing attracts him."
"It is not a great thing for me."
"I will do what I can to distract him," he said grimly.
Britta had no faith in such a slender plan. She would take matters into her own hands.
Karn waited a long time in the dim hall with only pain and shame for company. That and his thirst. He lay
naked and bound, the only sign now that he was Dane a small medallion around his neck stamped with
the Hammer of Thor. But that god had deserted him this day. Breath rasped through his parched throat.
Had he fought so many battles with fire in his heart just to die basely in this rude hall? Had the Norns
always planned to weave the thread of his life into this fate?
He need not even bother praying for death. Who among the gods would answer?
Ulf had brought him to this, he realized. Ulf had known about the fortress up the river from the church. If
only the man were here, that he could gut him in payment for the Danir who'd died today, in payment for
his own shame. But he was not like to see Ulf this side of Hel's frozen domain.
Frigid air blasted into the hall as the door opened on twilight. Men wandered in, their drinking horns held
high. Women brought bowls of steaming food.
Several Saxons broke away from the loud jesting and victorious laughter to cluster around Karn. He
resolved to provoke them into killing him quickly. He kicked out at the nearest of the three. The man
lurched back, clutching his shin. Which brought laughter from the others. When he had recovered enough
to be angry, he lunged at Karn with his knife. For a moment, Karn thought he had won, but the Saxon's
comrades pulled him back and took his weapon, still laughing.
A slender girl pushed her way past the men. Her hair was like a gleaming torch. She knelt beside him and
motioned his tormentors away. Her eyes were green as she looked into his face. They were filled with
secrets he could not name. He could not pull his eyes away. She looked startled and pulled her gaze
away from his face to his body. Her small hands reached out for him, slowly, as if in a dream. As she
touched his wounds, a shock shot through him. It wasn't pain exactly. Her eyes jerked back to his face,
as though drawn there against her will.
Each stared at the other, paralyzed, for several moments. She had felt the shock of the touch, too. Finally
she shook her head and rocked back on her heels. Taking some bandages from a basket, she made a
pad. He saw her hesitate, then muster her resolve as she pressed it to his shoulder and bound it tight. She
dressed his hip, then turned his head to look at the bruise on his temple. Gingerly, she pressed her fingers
around the lump. The ache there leaked away. At last she rose and, with one more backward glance,
turned and left the hall.
Karn found the whole ritual more frightening than all the rest. Why had they sent a healer? They must
want to be sure he didn't bleed to death before they could exact their revenge.
A huge man with a great forked beard strode into the hall. Men rushed to fill a drinking horn edged with
wrought silver. This must be the leader of this serpents' den. There was much toasting, raucous laughter,
blustery talk. They were recounting their version of the battle, Karn realized with disgust. No Danish
scalds would ever sing of this dire day.
His wounds began to throb with greater intensity as the room warmed, even as the sky outside the
doorway deepened into night. The smoke from the fire hung in the rafters, wafting over to fill his senses.
These Saxon builders did not even put smoke holes in their halls. They were little more than beasts, he
thought muzzily. The brutish voices and the laughter whirled into a wall of sound. The bright kittles of the
women who served the food spun before his eyes.
Karn started awake as a foot prodded his belly. There were only eight or nine Saxons left in the hall,
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