Fires of Winter by Johanna Lindsey

room that fateful day. She had been bothered only once since then, by none other than the leader himself, who at least was not as rough with her as the younger men. It was actually a tender interlude, for she had lost the will to fight, and he was gentle in his way. She had been a widow for so long, and had not had a man in as many years. Still Linnet prayed it would not happen again. There was nothing she could hope for from Anselm Haardrad of Norway. He was already married, by Fergus’s words. There was nothing Linnet could look forward to at all.
    The storm did not last overly long, but left everyone limp and exhausted. A day later, miraculously, land was sighted. Norway’s long coastline extended as far as the eye could see. They did not stop again for provisions but, eager to be home, sailed night and day, further and further north, until finally they altered course and turned inland to the Horten Fjord.
    It was midsummer, and the bright green of the trees and grass was welcome to the eye. The sky was deep blue, and dotted with puffy white clouds. Ahead, one fluffy mass stood alone in the sky, in the shape of a mighty mallet— Thor’s flying hammer.
    The women saw the cloud, but thought nothing of it. The men, however, gave a deafening cheer. It was a good sign, for it meant that Thor gave them his blessings.
    Rocky cliffs rose on both sides of the ship like steep walls. When the banks were level again, the ship rowed to shore. The journey was over.

T he settlement was crude, to say the least. Set back only a quarter mile from the fjord stood a large windowless house made of wood, flanked by many smaller houses and livestock sheds. In the fields behind the settlement were other crude houses spaced far apart.
    A few women and children accompanied by many dogs ran down to the landing to greet the men; others waited by the main house. Brenna and the other women were tied at the wrists before they were unloaded, just like cargo, and two men escorted them to one of the smaller houses.
    All eyes followed the trim figure in black who walked with a proud gait and fearless air. The other captives moved along slowly. They were shoved inside the little house, and the door was slammed behind them. They were surrounded by darkness.
    “What now?” Enid cried.
    “If I knew, I would not be so frightened,” another girl answered. “’Tis not knowing that is so terrible.”
    “We will know soon enough, to be sure,” Cordella snapped impatiently. “This darkness is insufferable! Did you see that none of these houses have windows? Are these brave Vikings afraid of light?”

    “We are far north, Della,” Linnet replied. “I would imagine it gets colder here than any winter you’ve ever known. Windows, no matter how well covered, would let the cold in.”
    “You have an answer for everything,” Cordella hissed sarcastically. “What is our fate then, Linnet? What is to become of us?”
    Linnet sighed wearily. She stood in the center of the room next to Brenna, but could see nothing in the black gloom. She could not say what she feared, that they were all slaves now, and nothing more. There was no reason to further frighten the younger girls, for her suspicion was not yet a certainty.
    “As you said, Della, we will know soon enough,” Linnet finally answered.
    Brenna remained silent, unable to offer reassurance. She too guessed what their fate was, but her mind retreated from the possibility. Her frustration over her inability to protect them when they needed her most kept her mouth closed in a tight line. What could she do without a weapon and with her wrists bound? They had been raped and brutalized, but she had been unable to prevent it.
    The fact that she had not been violated herself gave her little comfort. She could only reason that she was being saved for the arranged marriage. That would never happen now, for she would rather die than be a Viking bride. She only wanted revenge, and she would have it