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The full moon lit the space where her bout against Hrolf would be held in the morning with a ghostly silver hue. Sayrid shivered slightly and tried to concentrate on how she wanted the bout to go. She paced the area, imagining what her first few moves would be. Everything would hinge on those first crucial blows. If she could get Hrolf on the back foot from the beginning, she would stand a very good chance of winning.
‘Sayrid! Here I find you!’ Her sister’s voice rang out from the shadows.
‘Sleep evaded me,’ Sayrid admitted, turning towards where Auda stood. ‘It seemed best to come out here and practise before the crowds started gathering.’
‘Blodvin is crying her eyes out, convinced we are all doomed as you are bound to lose.’ Auda pressed her hands to her eyes. ‘No one can sleep when Blodvin weeps.’
‘What would she have me do? Back down? Give our land away? Lose my reputation?’ Sayrid gritted her teeth. ‘She should have more faith. We have everything to gain. Finally I will have the ships and men to make our fortune. Hrolf is overly proud. He will make the first mistake.’
‘Regin told her that. He wanted to wager, but Blodvin clawed at his face and told him not to be more a fool than usual.’
‘Hopefully they are not regretting their match after all the trouble it has caused.’ She shed her cloak and grabbed her favourite sword, the one that had belonged to her father, and a light shield.
‘Did you have to accept? Don’t we have enough gold? Enough honour? We get by, Sayrid.’
‘There is a world out there, waiting to be explored. Hrolf’s defeat will mean I can realize my dreams.’ Sayrid tried to stretch a sudden kink out of her back, the one that always came before she battled. Didn’t Auda understand what would have happened if she had refused? How much they would have lost? ‘And why should I give him anything?’
‘You could have tried to reach an agreement.’ Auda grabbed her arm. ‘Found out what he really wanted. We have gold.’
Sayrid tried to banish the memory of how they had nearly kissed. It was fantasy and folly on her part. In the second challenge, he’d never mentioned marriage.
‘If I hadn’t accepted the challenge, I would have lost my reputation and any hope of retaining such valuable and strategic lands until Regin proves himself.’ Sayrid shook her sister’s hand off. ‘I’m not going to lose everything I have sweated to build.’
‘But...do you really think you can defeat a warrior with his reputation?’
‘My own sister thinks I’ll lose.’
Auda pulled her shawl tighter about her body. ‘Someone has to be practical and both you and Regin are the dreamers in the family.’
‘I make my dreams happen.’
Auda shook her head. ‘You’re fighting for your pride. You can’t stand the thought of not being the Shield Maiden and being an ordinary woman again.’
‘You talk a lot of nonsense, Auda. What shall I bring you from the East? Enough silk to make seven gowns?’
‘I think you ought to have an alternative plan...just in case...’
Sayrid adjusted Auda’s shawl. In moments like these, she found it hard to believe how quickly her half-sister had grown up. Auda was old enough for the truth. ‘I’m going to win, Auda. I have to. If I’d refused, Kettil would never have trusted me with a ship again. And he would have stripped the lands from me. From us. Unlike men, I have to win and keep on winning. Luckily I find it easy to do.’
* * *
‘Look after these for me, Bragi,’ Hrolf said, handing his friend his arm rings as he finished his preparations for the bout with Sayrid. ‘I don’t want to get them damaged in the fight.’
Bragi accepted the rings, sliding them on his forearm. ‘Can you accept a woman as an overlord for a year? I don’t know if I could. You are worse than me when it comes to having only one use for a woman. Even with Anya, who bore your child, you barely had any time for her.’
‘Where else but in my my bed should a woman I desire be?’ Hrolf laughed. He followed his uncle’s path and kept the two parts of his life separate. He had seen from his father what happened when a man hid behind a woman’s skirts.
Sayrid was the key to gaining control of the headland, but he would also prove once and for all time that he was the best warrior to hold it.
He was going to win. Sayrid might enjoy a certain reputation, but it had not been forged in battle. She had not fought for everything as he had.
‘That does not answer my question.’
‘I hold your pledge. You follow me, not the other way around.’ Hrolf gave Bragi a hard look. His second-in-command was doubting his ability? Kettil might think Sayrid Avildottar could fight, but had she ever come up against real opposition? ‘Do you wish to become an oath breaker because of something which might not happen? You are worse than an old woman.’
‘But do you think you will win?’
Hrolf did a few squats to loosen his legs up. ‘My sword arm forged my reputation. Every man or woman has a weakness. The question is how to exploit it.’ He thought about how Sayrid had trembled when she stood next to him. She felt the attraction as well. She would end up in his bed. By Freya’s cats, she probably hated the front of toughness she had to put up. She needed a real warrior in her life. ‘And I know her weakness. She will concede with me barely breaking a sweat.’
Bragi clapped him on the back. ‘And you haven’t forgotten the land you owe me.’
‘I pay my debts, Bragi. Always.’ Hrolf did several practice swipes with his sword. It would be easy to tame this shield maiden. Kettil had cleverly talked up her prowess in order to keep rivals from claiming the bay. But he looked forward to exposing the lie and gaining the woman.
‘Where is this land of hers that you covet?’
‘The headland which first attracted me here and the land round to the next bay.’ Hrolf clenched his fist as he considered his rival sea king, Lavrans, and the trouble he had caused over the years. The alliance with Kettil would bring him from his hiding place to attack. ‘It will be enough to force Lavrans to act if he truly intends to cause mischief. I agree with Kettil. Someone here is alerting Lavrans to the movements of the ships and until we discover his identity, we have little hope of stopping it except by stationing our ships where they can exercise control of the bay.’
‘After you have dealt with Lavrans? What happens then? Will we be forced to make the trip east once again? You know how many men we lost on our last trip to Constantinople.’
‘We will do well here, Bragi—no more Desolation Pass or Heartbreak Rapids for us. Time for Sayrid to learn there is more to being a warrior than a scowl, swagger and a gleaming sword.’
Bragi’s face cleared. ‘Ah, I see you are thinking with your head.’
Hrolf turned his unflinching gaze on his second-in-command. ‘Since when do I think with any other part of me?’
* * *
The cleared area looked very different in the early-morning sunlight from the way it had last night—larger and more open with less chance to hide. Her stomach clenched. She’d forgotten how much she hated being the centre of attention.
Despite the hour, a great crowd thronged around the perimeter. It seemed as though the entire village plus a good portion of the countryside were here to watch her fight. Sayrid elbowed her way through to the empty arena. She ground her teeth. She’d deliberately arrived late to put pressure on Hrolf, only to find he was even later.
‘Where is Hrolf Eymundsson?’ She shaded her eyes and surveyed the crowd. ‘Perhaps the great sea king has thought better of his challenge?’
A hush fell over the crowd and they fell back, parting like waves on the shore.
Her breath stopped in her throat. Hrolf had not only shed his cloak. He had also shed his tunic. His muscular chest and broad shoulders gleamed in the early-morning sun.
‘I wanted to make sure you knew what you might be getting,’ he said.
Sayrid pressed her lips together. Arrogant in the extreme. ‘You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t do the same.’
His eyes roamed over her figure. ‘I look forward to having the pleasure of unwrapping you later.’
She deepened her scowl and banished the bubbly feeling to a far corner of her brain. ‘That depends on the outcome of this bout.’
‘That outcome is not in doubt.’ A faint smile touched his lips. ‘But if I should lose, I shall be at your service...one year. Think about that. I will be bound to do whatever service you require without question or hesitation for an entire year.’
Her face flamed like it was on fire. He was talking about their joining, not about who would win this contest. She concentrated on the ground and attempted to restore some measure of calm. She had never before had any trouble focusing on the match, but now she was intensely aware of the man. ‘Why would you say that?’
‘You made me a promise the other night. I intend to see it is fulfilled.’
‘What promise?’ She made the mistake of glancing at his face and was catapulted headlong into the fierceness of his gaze.
Her entire body tingled, but then she recalled his reputation with women and thought of the number of women he must have bedded. The man knew what he was doing.
Angrily, she made a swipe with her sword. ‘Stop trying to twist things to your advantage.’
His smile widened.
‘My mistake. Your body must have made the promise without informing your head.’ He leant towards her and lowered his voice. ‘We will be good together, Sayrid. Think about that as we fight.’
Sayrid glowered at him. ‘I know your game, Hrolf, and choose not to play it. Think about that as we fight. I am indifferent to you.’
Her heart beat far too fast, giving lie to her words. But he couldn’t have guessed. Sayrid tightened her grip on her sword. He must never know of her attraction.
‘You know nothing about me.’ He gave a mock blow to his chest. ‘I’ll never break your heart, fair lady.’
‘That’s because my heart will never be yours to break. I intend on teaching you a lesson. Shall we get on with it?’ She shrugged. ‘It will be a shame to mark your skin, but then maybe the next time you will not treat a woman opponent with such contempt.’
He snapped his fingers and one of his men brought his shirt. ‘The maiden has accused me of distracting her. And here I thought you and your unbreakable heart impervious to my charms!’
Sayrid saluted him with her sword. ‘Your future ladies will thank me one day.’
‘What makes you think I want any other woman?’
He returned the salute as the noise from the crowd grew louder. Sayrid took three breaths and focused on his sword. The first few clashes would be to assess his strength and identify his weakness. Warriors always had a weakness. Once she found his, she could exploit it. His arrogance would assist her, but she’d need something more to make him overreach. She could almost taste the power she’d command once she’d won.
Their swords clashed as he blocked her move and countered with a move that she easily blocked.
‘You’re not trying very hard.’
A wide smile split his face. ‘I’ve no wish to mark your skin, Valkyrie.’
‘That is my concern.’
‘Mine as well. I need to look after my bed partner-to-be.’
Sayrid ground her teeth. She didn’t know which was worse—talking about marring her skin as if that mattered or proclaiming it was a foregone conclusion that they’d share a bed whatever the outcome.
She redoubled her efforts to focus and the battle began in earnest. Sword meeting shield and sword meeting sword. Each time she tried something, he had a counter for it.
She had to admit that Hrolf was highly skilled, a far better opponent than she had faced before. His strength matched his agility. This was no drunken sot trying his luck or an ageing farmer, but a seasoned warrior.
Rivulets of sweat snaked down her face, nearly blinding her. With an impatient arm, she wiped them away. Surely he would make a mistake soon. Her light shield grew heavier and it took more effort to move it into place. But she forced her body to continue and to wait. Round and round the ring they went. One probing and then the other. Always searching for an opening, but not finding one. The cries of the crowd grew louder.
Despite her screaming back muscles she tried for a downward stroke. He blocked it with ease, but his eyes took on a triumphal gleam.
Sayrid swallowed hard. She summoned all her remaining energy. One more burst and she knew she’d break him.
He went for a deceptively simple move, but Sayrid was ready with the counter-attack and managed to land a blow on his arm. She pressed her advantage and forced him on the back foot. He stumbled and fell. His sword landed a few inches from him.
A wild exhilaration went through her. She had done it! He had made the first mistake. She was going to win. After this, no one would doubt her prowess. She’d be safe and her dreams would all come true. Her family would be provided for and she could stop waking up at night with worry clawing at her gut.
His lips turned up. ‘Definitely a Valkyrie. The last move proved it. You do Odin proud.’
‘Will you yield?’ she asked, standing over him with her sword point towards his neck. ‘You have lost your sword. I could drive my sword into your throat. Yield, Hrolf Sea-Rider, and I may spare your life.’
‘Overconfidence will be your downfall, Valkyrie.’
His foot snaked out and caught her calf, sending her tumbling to the ground. Her cheek bumped against a rock and sent a pain ricocheting through her. The air went from her lungs with the unexpectedness of it. One instant she was on her feet and the next, staring up at the sky. Her shield slipped from her grasp.
He made a downward stroke which she raised her sword to block. To her horror, she mistimed the move and her sword arched through the air, landing quivering in the dirt several feet from her.
‘Will you yield, Valkyrie?’ he asked with his sword a breath away from her neck. ‘Will you concede to a man?’
Sayrid collapsed back against the ground, utterly spent. Above her the clouds skittered across the sky and all about her was silence from the stunned crowd.
‘I can’t rise without aid,’ she whispered into the quiet.
Summoning the remaining bits of his energy, Hrolf reached down with his hand and clasped hers. He pulled her to standing. Sayrid, with rivulets of sweat running down her face and her hair plastered to her skull, looked every bit as exhausted as he felt. But she was his now.
‘It is over,’ he said. ‘You’ve lost your sword. Would you lose your life as well?’
A solitary unheeded tear hovered in the corner of her eye. ‘Yes, it is over.’
Hrolf glanced towards where Kettil stood, stony-faced. He gave a slight nod, acknowledging the outcome.
‘Sayrid Avildottar conceded!’ He raised their clasped hands. ‘I claim victory. I claim Sayrid Avildottar and her lands.’
The entire throng hushed.
‘What does the Shield Maiden say?’ someone called out. ‘Has she given way?’
‘Go on,’ he commanded. ‘Say it so they can hear.’
‘Hrolf is correct. He has won.’ Sayrid’s shoulders slumped as she bowed her head. ‘I’ll honour my oath. My lands will be his.’
‘I claim everything, including your body!’
At his words, the crowd burst into loud laughter and cheers. Hrolf’s shoulders relaxed, but he kept hold of Sayrid’s wrist. Her expression of absolute horror intensified.
In all his years of fighting, he had never met a better opponent and he had begun to despair of winning, something he’d never experienced before.
Sayrid’s instant of hesitation had happened just after he’d sent a prayer towards any god who might be listening. Obviously Freya, the goddess of love and marriage, had been following the proceedings because he suddenly had known what to do and his strength had returned. He would honour the goddess today—by claiming Sayrid as his bride.
‘Marriage is not a death sentence,’ he murmured, hating the bruised patch just under her eye. He had tried to be careful, but obviously there had been moments when his fighting instinct had taken over.
Silently he vowed that it would never happen again. He would ensure that his wife was properly looked after, not left to fend for herself in a hostile world. He would make it right. His wife should be dressed in furs and silks, not battling for her life.
