Now I present to you... Silver and Spice!
View Prologue and chapter 1 HERE, chapter 2 HERE, chapter 3 HERE, chapter 4 HERE, chapter 5 HERE, chapter 6 HERE, chapter 7 HERE, chapter 8 HERE, chapter 9 HERE, chapter 10 HERE, chapter 11 HERE
Ireland, one month
previously
In a smoky hall just
outside of Dubh Linn, Sean MacRonan was finishing his supper. Sucking the last
strand of meat from between his teeth, he drained his cup of mead, before
hurling the goblet at the hound, which jumped and yelped in fear.
How dare Kristr Halsrason
take Roisin of Dun na Shee? She was his;
her father Conall had agreed upon it. She was comely enough, and would have
been useful to bear sons, until she died from childbirth or exhaustion. In January he had thieved a chest of precious
and valuable spices from Kristr and had expected Lorcan to leave him for
dead. Sean scowled. He should have done the deed himself. Not only did his enemy survive, but had
stolen from him in return.
Now Conall of Dun na
Shee was without a daughter, thanks to Halsrason’s actions. MacRonan could have cursed himself when he
had he had confirmed his own guilt, admitting to Roisin’s brother Patrick that
he had been trading with Halsrason.
He should have unleashed
Lorcan’s anger upon Patrick, and let his men raid Dun na Shee. Bile rose again
when he thought of Roisin's men folk preventing him from landing at their rath.
No doubt they would nobly try to avenge her abduction. And fail. When they were
dead, he would take her again, and her lands.
In his red mist of fury
he did not see the hooded figure gliding towards him, up the length of the
hall. He drew his dagger, shouting for his serving maid. Where was that useless
Noreen? If this figure wanted some pleasures of the flesh, he'd happily throw Noreen
to them if it saved his coin. He had his pleasure from her many times already.
As the figure drew
closer to him, he finally caught a glimpse of blonde braid and his lips curled
into an evil smile.
'Well, my Valkryie, what
brings you here, far over the waves? Where are your little group of
fosterlings?' He looked to the door, expecting to see a skinny half grown
man-boy following her like a puppy. 'Have some mead, I'm sure you will find it
soothing after your travels.' He waved the earthenware jar, sloshing the
contents onto the floor.
She snorted in disgust.
Pulling her hood down and fixing it about her shoulders, she glared 'I'm here
alone.' She had to travel fast, and the tides were favourable down the channel.
'And I need your assistance.' She lifted the horn of light golden liquid he had
poured and raised it in toast.
'Really?' MacRonan was
intrigued. This woman rarely needed the
aid of anyone. 'And how may I assist you Alfhilde? Does the Valkryie require a
fine red-blooded man to warm her furs?'
Alfhilde scowled. The
truth stung and MacRonan knew he was not the man whom she wanted in her bed.
'Hardly. I need you to procure me a woman.' His eyes widened, then narrowed.
She had never expressed an interest in women before. 'And not just any woman.'
His interest was piqued.
What kind of woman would Alfhilde want, and why? 'I did not realise you had
such, ah, particular tastes, Valkryie.'
'I want Kristr Halsrason's
woman. I want to teach him a lesson. And, I want you to get her for me.'
He jumped up and
grabbing her by the nape of her neck, he held his dagger to her throat. 'I do
not know what game you play with me, but I am not amused.' How did Alfhilde
know Kristr had stolen his black haired Donegal bride from under his nose?
Pulling her own dagger
from beneath her cloak, she pressed the blade against his arm. 'You are too
deep in your cups of mead tonight. Unhand me now lest I cut through the sinews
on your sword arm! Halsrason arrived at the Jarlshof on Shetland four days ago
with a tiny little halfling. I dressed her as the thrall she was but Kristr Halsrason
rejected me for her. Her!' Alfhilde's voice rose to a shriek. MacRonan released
her from his grasp. Roisin was comely enough, but Kristr was a fool to reject a
woman of the world like Alfhilde.
Alfhilde continued on
her rant, 'The apples do not fall far from the tree on the fjords. Like father,
like son.' Kerik Halsrason had taken Aisling from MacRonan’s sire all those
years ago. Her sister Gertrude had told her the whole tale. Just as Kerik had
rejected her for Gertrude, now Kristr had rejected her for Roisin. She had
taught Kristr all she knew. She had made him a man and now she would take all
that was precious to him
MacRonan pinched his
lips. 'You speak in riddles.' She shrugged. Obviously he did not know the full
story of his mother. She would keep the information to herself for a little
longer. 'Well, let me appraise you of
the situation, Valkryie. That halfling thrall, as you call her, was my
betrothed, and I want her back.' Roisin's value had doubled over that of what
he had cheated Kristr Halsrason. He would be happy to sell her to Alfhilde, for
the right price. For coin he would sell her to slavers in the warm lands in the
south. 'However, I will need some payment and assurances from you. I might have
at her when I bring her back, but after that, she can be yours.'
'Of course. This should
pay you for both your trouble and my new bed-thrall for my fosterlings. Do with
it as you see fit.' She threw a lump of metal, shiny and golden as it skidded
across the table. A crushed torc necklace.
oooOOOooo
On hearing the commotion
in the cooking hall, which was mostly Marthe's shrieking, Kerik dispatched Erik
to investigate. ‘Kristr, come with me, I
see Knottr signalling.’ Kristr shaded
his eyes from the sun and saw the quiet Knottr flipping a polished shield, the
light flickering rapidly against the silhouette of his giant frame.
‘Knottr, what have you
sighted?' Kristr called out to his companion.
'There is a boat arriving
in the fjord, not a longship. More like a large Irish currach. Come and see.'
Squinting against the
spring sun, Kristr could make out the boat, and at least one figure on it that
he recognised. Turning to his father, he said, There will not be a need for
battle, it is not foe this day. I shall have Gertrude prepare the ale, so that
we may go and greet our guest.'
As Erik reached the
kitchens he was nearly knocked over by Marthe, all arms, legs and unbound hair,
throwing herself at him. 'Who is coming? Are they raiders?' He tutted at his
sister's over-reaction. He did not know who came yet, but it was his duty to
keep the womenfolk safe, and in Marthe's case, calm. 'Easy sister, you must
cease with your Greek tragedies. I will not let any harm come to you.' Looking
to Roisin and Ciara, clinging onto one another, he clucked soothingly in
Gaelic. 'Shh, Ladies. Have no fear, it is only one boat and unlikely to be a
raid.' He stroked Ciara's hair. He hoped that this one boat did not carry Patrick
of Dun na Shee the one man who could take her from him, or Roisin from Kristr.
In a mimicry of their
father Kristr's voice boomed through the kitchen. Reverting to his own tongue,
he called to Erik telling him who was arriving, although Erik's wide smile did
nothing to ease Roisin's worry, as he continued to play with the circlet
entwined in Ciara's hair. She watched as Gertrude prepared a horn of ale, and
left the kitchen, with Marthe following, now a docile lamb. Kristr finally
smiled and kissed Roisin on the forehead, 'Sweetling, a guest has arrived at
the steading, but I would much rather that yourself and Ciara stayed in my hall
until the welcoming ceremony is complete.' Seeing her lip tremble, he
continued, 'Nei, it is nothing to cause you worry, and I promise I will make
introductions soon.' Following him to
his hall, she and Ciara went in, and sat down by the hearth, wondering who the
guest could be.
The boat docked, and a
tall man leapt out. 'Thor's teeth,' Kerik laughed as he grasped the man's
forearms. 'You look like your sire in those Irish clothes! Come, partake of
some ale, my sons are on their way!’
Gertrude came forward
with the horn of their sweetest ale, and after he downed the cup, he gave her a
deep bow, and she returned his gesture. 'It is a pleasure to see you here
again, Johan O’Toole.'
O’Toole greeted Erik and
Kerik like old friends. He had known both of them since the time Kristr and he
had fostered at the Jarlshof with Alfhilde. He and Kristr had entered manhood
as brothers, and the Halsrason family viewed him as one of their own. Alfhilde was a sister of Gertrude, and there
had been an uneasy truce between the family for years. It had been accepted that the fosterage of
Kristr had eased the rift. From what he
had learned in his guise of ‘Alfred of Northumberland’, a fortnight ago, he was
not so sure that the peace held on the Jarlshof side.
Clapping Johan on the
back Kerik's voice good-naturedly roared over the introductions. 'Come, let us
go to my hall so that you may tell us of your travels and inform us of the
activities of your other countrymen, your mother's people, whilst the womenfolk
prepare the skause stew for natmal.'
Johan deferred to the
older man, 'Of course Jarl Kerik. It has been one full moon since Kristr and
Erik left, and I have a lot to tell since I last saw your sons,' he eyed Kristr
and Erik with mirth, 'at a Donegal lough-side with their small Irish prizes.' He
remembered how both men had reacted to the women they had taken hostage. If Erik
had not taken Ciara as his concubine, Johan would quite happily eat a thorn
bush. Kristr would have met his match in the spirited Roisin. The last time he
saw her, she was screaming insults at them through her gagged mouth. Kristr did
not seem too annoyed at his little joke, so perhaps the old Celtic god Sucellos
and the Viking goddess Freja had met and made their match.
'How are Roisin and Ciara
faring here?' Johan questioned, grinning as his friends looked at one another,
sheepishly. 'They have woven their magic, haven't they?'
The silence was broken
by Kerik's loud voice, 'Johan, you are my only boy who has not fallen for the
charms of a maiden yet, and I hope your brains are not as addled as those of my
sons!'
Settling in the hall at
the hearth, a cask of ale was brought for the men. 'I bring news, and not all
of it good.' He proceeded to tell the Halsrason men of his conversations with Conall
of Dun na Shee, and the duplicity of MacRonan with the Donegal clan. He
explained that Conall was yet another innocent party. He had no idea that MacRonan was such an
underhanded brigand, and was devastated at the loss of his daughters.
Although it was the
information that Kristr was expecting, knowing that Roisin's father hurt as
much as she did, did not ease his own pain.
If he were to lose Roisin now, it would destroy his life, and he felt
great sympathy for Conall.
'I can assure you from
my time with Conall that he has annulled any match made between MacRonan and
his daughter. However, he does not have the silver to pay the ransom, and I
made it clear to him that he should not arrive here without it.' Kristr's
honour was still at stake, and Johan, like Kerik, knew this. 'He feels as if he
has lost his daughter, and foster daughter for ever, but I believe he will try
to negotiate with the other chieftains of Ulster.'
'However, that is not
the main cause for your concern. MacRonan is determined to claim Roisin back,
and he has a powerful ally. 'The three men looked at him expectantly. 'Alfhilde
of the Jarlshof.' They did not need to know about the crushed necklace. 'I
believe she wishes to buy Roisin from him, when he returns with her.'
Kristr stood up and
threw his ale, horn and all into the hearth, the hissing and spitting of the
liquid breaking the silence. 'I will kill him for this. He shall not make a
slave of my woman, and then I will kill that half-troll Alfhilde.' Johan smiled
to himself. Kristr was indeed smitten if he referred to her as 'his' woman.
Kerik interjected, 'Nei,
son, do not let your temper interfere with your plans.' He looked at the angry
faces of the younger men. 'There is much more to this story with MacRonan, as I
believe there is more to your history as a foster child with Alfhilde.' He would challenge Kristr on that matter in
private, continuing, 'but we shall address one thing at a time, and the safety
of Roisin and Ciara is your first concern.'
oooOOOooo
There was a knock at the
hall door as Kristr announced himself loudly. When Roisin recognised Johan, her
mind flashed back to that fateful day.
Crying out in shock, she tried run away. Kristr gently reached for her
arm, and held her back, 'Easy, sweetling,' he crooned, 'I told you all will be
well. This is a foster brother of mine, Johan O’Toole. You were very frightened
the last time you saw him, I know. But he will never cause you harm.' He
stroked her shoulder and ran his hand down her braid as she continued to shake
quietly, but she did not try to flee.
Johan kept his distance,
but addressed her in Gaelic, 'Roisin, I am proud to make your acquaintance. Ciara
was just awakening from a faint when I saw her for the first time, and I am
pleased to meet her too.' He gave a small bow in her direction, and she
returned a small smile, before curling up into Erik's arms. Johan could see for
himself how his brothers had fallen in love, and it would also be his
responsibility now to help them keep these young women safe.
oooOOOooo
Roisin had left the
natmal early, before the arrival of the skalds, feigning tiredness, but she
really wanted to be with her own thoughts. Earlier today she was convinced her
father had come to bring her ransom, or that MacRonan had come to claim her.
She did not want to think that she was just worth silver to Kristr, she hoped
what they shared went beyond the value of a precious metal. Her emotions were
as scattered as the stars in the sky. She wanted to see her father, but to
leave Kristr now would leave a hole in her heart.
Her mind drifted from
the earlier anxiety of the day, from Johan's arrival back to her earlier
lovemaking with Kristr. She recalled his
stance that morning; naked, proud, unashamed and erect. Her hand drifted over
her navel towards her soft mound of curls, her fingers exploring and opening
for the first time the blossom that Kristr had kissed and adored the previous
eve. She started to play with her breasts, teasing her nipples to life, as they
became firm and peaked under her nervous novice hand. Biting her lip as she
lost herself in her thoughts and the sensations that Kristr had unlocked,
exploring her own body as he had done, she felt the tightening in her womb and
the glorious build of tension in her core.
She heard a swish of
curtain and her eyes flew open. She tried to speak but had lost her voice, as
Kristr looked down at her, his grey eyes almost black with desire. 'Do not bite
that lip, you know what it does to me.'
Her voice was husky with
longing, 'Kristr, I, I... 'He pulled the fur from her body as he eyed her
fingers, slick with her own juices. He knelt on the bed between her parted
thighs, his knees barely touching her warm folds, and raising her hand to his
mouth started to lick and suck her sweet nectar from her hand, nibbling on her
soft skin in appreciation, as she tried to tug her hand free of his lips.
'Oh no, Roisin, you
taste too sweet to me, and I have not had my fill of you yet.' She tried to
squirm away in embarrassment, but he held her wrist firm in his grasp, and
holding it above her head brought her other arm up to join it, one hand easily
holding both slim wrists. 'Now, are you going to stay still whilst you let me
bestow love play upon you, or will I have to bind you as my love captive for
the duration of the evening? ' She panted with want, she had been so close to
her own release, and writhed below him, trying to get purchase for her tender
bud against his legs. 'Ohh, no, my greedy little sweetling, I want this to last
all night.' He reached onto the wooden chest, and grabbed the soft woollen
girdle rope of her dress. She moaned
with desire as his weight shifted from above her body, and he deftly tied her
wrists, ensuring that she was still able to move without the bindings chafing
her tender skin.
He pressed the palm of
his hand over her mons, twisting his fingers gently in the light brown curls,
exploring the soft hair, and the sensitive petals below. His mouth hungrily
sought hers. She could taste her own honey on his tongue as he caressed her
mouth, nipping at her lips, claiming her as his. She was his, as she
surrendered to his touches, his kisses, his embraces, her shoulders, breasts,
waist and hips tingling as he grazed lightly over her skin, barely breathing;
alternating it with passionate worshiping of her creamy flesh. His hand was now
exploring where hers had been, his expert touch causing her tension and heat to
rise again, she began to cry out his name in ecstasy, her body quivering in
unbridled passion as she felt her warm sweetness flow.
She barely felt him
undoing the bonds as he knelt on the bed before her, his shaft hard, a gentle
sheen at the tip. Flushed from her own release, she slid her hands around his
neck and drew him towards her, welcoming him, wanting him to enter so they
could be again as one. She moaned softly as he entered her, her body adjusting
to his size. Slowly he moved at first, savouring her satiny warmth, her
precious gift to him. Looking into her deep blue eyes, he saw everything he
wanted; a lover, a mate, a united life.
'I love you, Roisin,' he
whispered as he gave a final thrust, his head collapsing onto her shoulder,
kissing her neck.
'And I you, Kristr.' She
closed her eyes, and dreaded the thought of the next boat that may arrive in
the fjord. Her father would sent her to
a convent and Kristr to Hel.
Bio
Maria MacAuley is from Derry, Ireland and has a degree in Celtic Languages. She is married to the love of her life, and they live in relative peace with two cats.
She has a secret wish that her husband will investigate his Nordic family tree further and whisk her off on a longboat to Hammerfest to view the Northern Lights.
If Maria were to choose her favourite tense, it should be the subjunctive, and is always keen to discuss same over a pint of Guinness.
She has a secret wish that her husband will investigate his Nordic family tree further and whisk her off on a longboat to Hammerfest to view the Northern Lights.
If Maria were to choose her favourite tense, it should be the subjunctive, and is always keen to discuss same over a pint of Guinness.
email: banbha@hotmail.com
~*"No portion of this story may be copied or shared without the direct permission of the author."*~
Another great chapter! I hope there are MANY more to come. I'm not ready for it to come to an end just yet ;)
ReplyDeleteHi Ava, thank you so much for hosting me, I've had so much fun with it
ReplyDelete