her there to hide from her husband. Once warm and light, his woman open and welcoming, the cave had been his refuge. But that was so long ago he turned his thoughts away from those memories.
Now he must find what he’d come for. His plans depended on it. He remembered hiding it in a crevice in the rock, but which one? Holding the torch up to scour the silent cave - now dark, cold and damp with shadows dancing on the walls - he sighed.
He poked his spear into the cracks and met resistance in the third one. Holding the torch high, he peered in, wishing he could have searched in daylight, but there had been more people around then. Feeling his way in, his fingers met the straw and feathers of a bird’s nest.
Sighing, he carried on searching every crevice. At last the spear hit something else so he tried again and found what he wanted, wrapped up in leather to keep it safe and intact from the elements or marauding animals. He smiled for the first time in a long while, and pulled it out of the rock. Tomorrow he’d take it and leave, after a good night’s sleep in the cave.
* * *
“ He what?” demanded Ragnar, frowning.
“ He-he made me promise not to tell anyone or he’d kill me.”
“ Where the hell did you see him?”
She described what had happened.
“ Right. I’ll go and make him tell me.”
“ Be careful. You know what he’s like.”
“ He didn’t try and rape you again, did he?”
“ No. It was just a shock seeing him. He didn’t touch me. Oh, except when he -”
“ What? He touched you?”
“ Listen! When he stopped me and Alvi from falling into the river. He took my hand to help me.”
“ Hm.” Ragnar gathered his weapons.
“ Are you going out now? It’s dark. Please don’t.”
He considered. “Very well. I’ll go out at first light. If Bjarni comes looking for me, tell him, but not anyone else.”
* * *
The next morning Ragnar set off, without his garish red cloak and his hair tied back out of the way. He headed for the caves at the source of the stream, knowing exactly where his wife meant. Not wanting to announce his presence with crunching footsteps on the stones near the river, he slipped through the trees, glad their leaves were now grown enough to cover him.
He found the cave where he and Aelfwyn had first made love and cautiously peered into the entrance.
Animal bones, gnawed clean, lay on the floor by the fire, where the embers still glowed and crackled. Grass and leaves filled the bed area and the bearskin covers had been hung to dry near the fire, but they still stank of damp and mould.
So someone did live here. It must be Kjartan, but he needed proof. He squeezed out of the cave entrance, then someone knocked him unconscious.
* * *
When Ragnar awoke on the cave floor, he realised his hands were tied behind him and cursed. Why hadn’t he brought Bjarni with him?
A hunched figure crouched with its back to him, sharpening a knife. A row of knives lay on the floor next to him, already sharpened. Then he turned round and it was Kjartan, his hair darkened with dirt.
“ Damn you!" he said. "I thought you wouldn't wake up yet."
"I'm tougher than you think. Why are you here?”
He sneered. “You’ll never know.”
“ So what are you going to do? Leave me here? I can walk with my hands tied, you know.”
“ But by the time you get home I’ll be long gone.”
“ Where’s my spear and sword?”
“ I’m taking them. I need them.”
“ Planning on killing someone?”
“ Maybe. Get up.”
Ragnar struggled to stand.
“ You’re going to kill me when I can’t fight back?”
Kjartan regarded him. “No, not you. I'm not having Aelfwyn widowed. Go before I change my mind."
A wolf howled outside and Kjartan went to check as it was daylight, an unusual time of day to hear that sort of noise.
Ragnar took advantage of the distraction and went to the knives. He grabbed one, twisting it to saw through his bonds.
When
Now he must find what he’d come for. His plans depended on it. He remembered hiding it in a crevice in the rock, but which one? Holding the torch up to scour the silent cave - now dark, cold and damp with shadows dancing on the walls - he sighed.
He poked his spear into the cracks and met resistance in the third one. Holding the torch high, he peered in, wishing he could have searched in daylight, but there had been more people around then. Feeling his way in, his fingers met the straw and feathers of a bird’s nest.
Sighing, he carried on searching every crevice. At last the spear hit something else so he tried again and found what he wanted, wrapped up in leather to keep it safe and intact from the elements or marauding animals. He smiled for the first time in a long while, and pulled it out of the rock. Tomorrow he’d take it and leave, after a good night’s sleep in the cave.
* * *
“ He what?” demanded Ragnar, frowning.
“ He-he made me promise not to tell anyone or he’d kill me.”
“ Where the hell did you see him?”
She described what had happened.
“ Right. I’ll go and make him tell me.”
“ Be careful. You know what he’s like.”
“ He didn’t try and rape you again, did he?”
“ No. It was just a shock seeing him. He didn’t touch me. Oh, except when he -”
“ What? He touched you?”
“ Listen! When he stopped me and Alvi from falling into the river. He took my hand to help me.”
“ Hm.” Ragnar gathered his weapons.
“ Are you going out now? It’s dark. Please don’t.”
He considered. “Very well. I’ll go out at first light. If Bjarni comes looking for me, tell him, but not anyone else.”
* * *
The next morning Ragnar set off, without his garish red cloak and his hair tied back out of the way. He headed for the caves at the source of the stream, knowing exactly where his wife meant. Not wanting to announce his presence with crunching footsteps on the stones near the river, he slipped through the trees, glad their leaves were now grown enough to cover him.
He found the cave where he and Aelfwyn had first made love and cautiously peered into the entrance.
Animal bones, gnawed clean, lay on the floor by the fire, where the embers still glowed and crackled. Grass and leaves filled the bed area and the bearskin covers had been hung to dry near the fire, but they still stank of damp and mould.
So someone did live here. It must be Kjartan, but he needed proof. He squeezed out of the cave entrance, then someone knocked him unconscious.
* * *
When Ragnar awoke on the cave floor, he realised his hands were tied behind him and cursed. Why hadn’t he brought Bjarni with him?
A hunched figure crouched with its back to him, sharpening a knife. A row of knives lay on the floor next to him, already sharpened. Then he turned round and it was Kjartan, his hair darkened with dirt.
“ Damn you!" he said. "I thought you wouldn't wake up yet."
"I'm tougher than you think. Why are you here?”
He sneered. “You’ll never know.”
“ So what are you going to do? Leave me here? I can walk with my hands tied, you know.”
“ But by the time you get home I’ll be long gone.”
“ Where’s my spear and sword?”
“ I’m taking them. I need them.”
“ Planning on killing someone?”
“ Maybe. Get up.”
Ragnar struggled to stand.
“ You’re going to kill me when I can’t fight back?”
Kjartan regarded him. “No, not you. I'm not having Aelfwyn widowed. Go before I change my mind."
A wolf howled outside and Kjartan went to check as it was daylight, an unusual time of day to hear that sort of noise.
Ragnar took advantage of the distraction and went to the knives. He grabbed one, twisting it to saw through his bonds.
When
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