was quickly replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread at the task before her. “Good. Where will I find him?”
Ulf set his fists on his hips and glared up at her. The boy who’d been shoved to the ground stood and knocked the dust off of his trousers then pointed down the road. “They’re in the great hall.”
Ulf wheeled around and pushed the boy back down. Kadlin nodded her thanks and clucked the pony forward. She heard music and bawdy laughter and followed the sound to a long, low building. Huge double doors were propped slightly ajar, and the smell of roasting meat tumbled out with the raucous din.
Her heart thundered in her ears when she slid off of her mount. She smoothed her hair and straightened her tunic. She pulled back her shoulders and drew in a deep breath. Gathering the pony’s reins in one hand, she yanked open the door with the other. She stood dumbstruck for a moment, unable to move. The great hall was a riot of sights and sounds. Men and woman danced and groped at each other, and some even rutted half naked in the far corners. Rows of tables lined each side of the room, and at the far end was a dais with an enormous carved chair facing the door.
Kadlin fixed her eyes on the tiny wan man perched on the throne. He leaned on one of the ornate scrolled arms looking out on the chaos and seemingly bored stiff. His skin was nearly as gray as his thin scraggly hair, and he appeared as frail as a bird.
Kadlin bit down on her inner cheek and tried to summon her courage. This must be done. It is the right thing. She only hoped that this little wisp of a man could be reasoned with.
With one more deep breath, she stepped onto the rough stone, leading her pony behind her. She felt the revelers stop one by one and bore their eyes into her. The music stopped, and the great hall fell silent except for the clop of the pony’s hooves on the floor.
She kept her eyes fixed on the jarl, and when he finally saw her he sat up straight in his seat. “Well, what have we here?”
“Kadlin!” Bjorn shouted from behind her, but she didn’t turn. She focused only on the jarl and her mission.
She led her pony to the foot of the dais and concentrated on speaking clearly. “I am Kadlin, niece of Ivar. I have come to pay you your due.”
“Kadlin, no!”
She clenched her jaw at the sound of Bjorn’s tortured voice.
The jarl waved his hand, and she heard scuffling behind her. She continued to stare forward. The jarl looked over her shoulder and jerked his head back. Two men wrestled a struggling Bjorn onto the platform and held him in place at the jarl’s side.
The old man appraised Kadlin with a lecherous grin on his face. “So, Bjorn, your escaped charge has found her way here herself. She is a succulent jewel, isn’t she?”
Bjorn dropped his head to his chest, and her heart nearly broke at the sight of it.
“Please, jarl,” he said, not looking up. “You do not want this one. She is headstrong and will bring you no end of trouble. Let me sail for you. I promise I will bring back the most beautiful treasures for you or I shall die trying.”
“Ah, so that’s what you’re playing at, Bjorn. You want her for yourself.”
Bjorn looked up at him. “No, not at all. I was glad to be rid of her. I want to call that land my own, but I would not feel right paying my debt with such a liability.”
The jarl rose slowly from his seat, wincing as he took each shaky step towards Kadlin. He struggled down from the riser and limped to where she stood. He was a hand’s breadth shorter than her, and she thought she must outweigh him by half.
When he reached out and slid his dry fingertips over her face, she ground her teeth together until her jaw ached. She concentrated on slowing her breath as his hand traveled downward over her throat and into the front of her tunic. He wrapped a claw-like hand around her breast and squeezed hard. Tears of humiliation sprung to Kadlin’s eyes, and Bjorn roared in outrage. Two
Ulf set his fists on his hips and glared up at her. The boy who’d been shoved to the ground stood and knocked the dust off of his trousers then pointed down the road. “They’re in the great hall.”
Ulf wheeled around and pushed the boy back down. Kadlin nodded her thanks and clucked the pony forward. She heard music and bawdy laughter and followed the sound to a long, low building. Huge double doors were propped slightly ajar, and the smell of roasting meat tumbled out with the raucous din.
Her heart thundered in her ears when she slid off of her mount. She smoothed her hair and straightened her tunic. She pulled back her shoulders and drew in a deep breath. Gathering the pony’s reins in one hand, she yanked open the door with the other. She stood dumbstruck for a moment, unable to move. The great hall was a riot of sights and sounds. Men and woman danced and groped at each other, and some even rutted half naked in the far corners. Rows of tables lined each side of the room, and at the far end was a dais with an enormous carved chair facing the door.
Kadlin fixed her eyes on the tiny wan man perched on the throne. He leaned on one of the ornate scrolled arms looking out on the chaos and seemingly bored stiff. His skin was nearly as gray as his thin scraggly hair, and he appeared as frail as a bird.
Kadlin bit down on her inner cheek and tried to summon her courage. This must be done. It is the right thing. She only hoped that this little wisp of a man could be reasoned with.
With one more deep breath, she stepped onto the rough stone, leading her pony behind her. She felt the revelers stop one by one and bore their eyes into her. The music stopped, and the great hall fell silent except for the clop of the pony’s hooves on the floor.
She kept her eyes fixed on the jarl, and when he finally saw her he sat up straight in his seat. “Well, what have we here?”
“Kadlin!” Bjorn shouted from behind her, but she didn’t turn. She focused only on the jarl and her mission.
She led her pony to the foot of the dais and concentrated on speaking clearly. “I am Kadlin, niece of Ivar. I have come to pay you your due.”
“Kadlin, no!”
She clenched her jaw at the sound of Bjorn’s tortured voice.
The jarl waved his hand, and she heard scuffling behind her. She continued to stare forward. The jarl looked over her shoulder and jerked his head back. Two men wrestled a struggling Bjorn onto the platform and held him in place at the jarl’s side.
The old man appraised Kadlin with a lecherous grin on his face. “So, Bjorn, your escaped charge has found her way here herself. She is a succulent jewel, isn’t she?”
Bjorn dropped his head to his chest, and her heart nearly broke at the sight of it.
“Please, jarl,” he said, not looking up. “You do not want this one. She is headstrong and will bring you no end of trouble. Let me sail for you. I promise I will bring back the most beautiful treasures for you or I shall die trying.”
“Ah, so that’s what you’re playing at, Bjorn. You want her for yourself.”
Bjorn looked up at him. “No, not at all. I was glad to be rid of her. I want to call that land my own, but I would not feel right paying my debt with such a liability.”
The jarl rose slowly from his seat, wincing as he took each shaky step towards Kadlin. He struggled down from the riser and limped to where she stood. He was a hand’s breadth shorter than her, and she thought she must outweigh him by half.
When he reached out and slid his dry fingertips over her face, she ground her teeth together until her jaw ached. She concentrated on slowing her breath as his hand traveled downward over her throat and into the front of her tunic. He wrapped a claw-like hand around her breast and squeezed hard. Tears of humiliation sprung to Kadlin’s eyes, and Bjorn roared in outrage. Two
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