Chapter Eight

“Shetland [made up of approximately one hundred islands] belonged to Denmark until 1469, when Princess Margaret of Denmark married James III of Scotland - the Islands were part of her dowry.” Scotland.org

“There’s a homestead over that ridge,” Nial called through the wind as he and Erik dragged the dinghy high onto the pebble-strewn shoreline. Cold rain pelted them so hard, Erik wondered if it was sleet. “We visited it several years ago during another storm,” Nial said, his mouth facing Hannah in the second boat in an attempt for her to hear.

Sten and Frode dragged their boat up. Hannah was seated in the middle, surrounded by the other men from the ship. Two had stayed aboard to keep it secure but would head for shore if it began to sink. They would release Hannah’s mare if it came to that.

Hannah held fiercely to the two girls under layers of wool blankets to protect them from the cold and wet. Only her face was visible, staring toward the shore with pale determination. Perhaps it was a blessing the girls stowed away. Hannah wouldn’t think of drowning herself with the need to protect them.

He thrust the horrid thought away. Life as a chancellor’s wife at the Danish court must be preferable to death. Although his sister certainly didn’t think so. I’ll kill myself if you leave me here. Dowager-Queen Sophie might not be her son’s regent, but she controlled her powerful court, the authority of which stretched like strong, grasping fingers up into Norway. And she’d made certain her order was taken seriously by stealing Iselin away. Just like I stole Hannah.

Erik had told Nial to take care of Hannah, knowing the woman felt only spitting rage toward him now, but Erik found himself striding over to the tossed dinghy to help her stand. She opened the blanket she’d been using as a cape. “Take them,” she called. Erik lifted first Libby to Frode and then Trix to Sten and turned back to Hannah.

For a moment, it looked like she wouldn’t take his hand, mutiny on her face that reminded him of how his sister had looked when she delivered her threat of suicide. But then Hannah took his arm, steadying herself as she climbed off and onto the rocky beach. She dropped it as soon as her footing was sound. As it was, the slippers she’d worn to the harvest festival were soaked through and ruined.

“There’s shelter this way,” he said, beckoning with a wide sweep of his arm. Frode and Sten carried the children, and Erik led the way with Nial, their crewmen bringing up the rear behind Hannah. Erik motioned for his four other crewmen to take shelter in the barn across the yard. There was no need for all of them to stampede into the single-story, stone roundhouse before them.

Rap! Rap! Nial knocked on the door of the roundhouse so prevalent on the treeless isles whipped by wind. Rap! Rap! “We are friends caught in the storm,” Nial called through the door in Bokmål, following it in English. The scrape of a bar on the other side heralded the door cracking open, the tip of an arrow pointed out.

“We mean you no harm,” Erik said, choosing the language that most spoke on the Shetland Isles, Norm, despite them being under King James’s Scottish rule. The isles were actually closer to Norway than mainland Scotland. “We are journeying home to Norway and were set upon by the storm.”

The door cracked a little wider and a man stared out, his eyes wide, taking them in. Suddenly Frode pushed past them, Libby still in his arms. “We have children who are wet and cold,” Frode said, his one hand rising to push the arrow away so he could carry her inside the squat little house.

Erik rushed in, hoping no one inside would shoot at the warrior and hit the girl. Frode didn’t think things through. Erik dodged around them, showing his hands empty of weapons to the middle-aged man holding the bow. An older woman hugged a younger woman in the corner by the hearth, blatant fear pinching their faces.

“We’ll do you no harm,” Nial repeated. “You’re Leif Pedersen, aren’t you? I visited some five years ago when your daughter there was not much bigger than the two little ones with us.” Nial pointed at Libby and Trix, who’d been lowered and were holding hands before the fire in the middle of the room, the smoke rising out of a hole in the roof that was partly covered to stop the rain from coming in.

Trix smiled timidly, waving her open hand. The women just stared, but Leif relaxed the trembling hold on his bow. “I remember,” he said, nodding to Nial even though his wary gaze remained on Erik, Sten, and Frode.

“They won’t harm you.” Trix waved toward the men.

“Unless you’re a sister to the Sinclair Horsemen,” Libby said with a glance at Hannah who remained mute while she studied the women in the corner. They huddled there as if they were abused hounds.

Trix left Libby to go over to Frode to tug him closer. The man frowned but bent closer as she whispered, although Erik could hear her. “You’re scaring them. Don’t look so ferocious.” She glanced over at Erik. “You, too, and Sten.”

“Not Nial?” Erik whispered back.

Trix smiled. “They remember him, and he looks soft enough.”

Frode snorted, his mouth bending in a grin that Erik hadn’t seen for over a month.

Nial frowned, crossing his arms. “I do not look soft.” He walked closer to Leif to tell him about the storm and ship anchored in the bay off his beach.

Trix turned her attention back to Erik, whispering, “Bend your shoulders some so you don’t look so…menacing and tall.”

With another glance at the two women in the corner, Libby went to stand before Frode, inspecting him. “Perhaps walk with a limp so you don’t look like you could catch them if they must run.”

Trix tilted her face to study Sten. “Stop staring directly in people’s eyes. ’Tis disturbing.”

Libby nodded. “You do that, too.” She frowned at Frode.

In answer Frode stared directly at Libby, so she did the same and made a pinched ugly face before whirling around. “Just trying to help you be more likeable.”

“We don’t want to be more likeable,” Sten said as she trounced away. “I might end up looking soft. Like Nial.”

Nial made a rude gesture behind his back at Sten as he negotiated with Leif for them to sleep in his barn. Nial spoke evenly, gesturing at the girls and Hannah. Eventually, he turned back to Erik. “Leif says the children and Hannah may stay in the house, and we can have the barn.”

Erik didn’t like the idea of leaving Hannah alone, but where would she go? She didn’t have a horse, ’twas storming, and she couldn’t steal a boat to sail over a day back to Scotia. He nodded at the older man. “Thank you.”

Hannah had walked closer to the two women, her smile reassuring. “We truly mean no harm.” She had a gentle strength about her, courage to do what must be done to forge ahead.

The older lady nodded back and released her daughter. “I am Elizabeth, and this is our daughter, Eydis,” she said in accented English.

“I am Hannah Sinclair, sister to the Four Sinclair Horsemen of Caithness in Scotland.” Hannah seemed to wait. “Have you heard of them? They are great warriors who lead armies of horses. White, bay, black, and pale green.”

“Like in the Bible?” Eydis asked, her brows furrowed. “Do they come from the heavens?”

Hannah smiled. “No. They are men, but great warriors. Do you not know them?”

Both women shook their heads, and Elizabeth slowly raised her finger to point at Erik. “We know of him,” she said, glancing at Nial and then nodding at Erik. “The Wolf Warrior and his pack. Protector of Norway.”

Hannah’s lips quirked to the side. “Hmph. I thought they were merely silver traders.” She crossed her arms with simmering fury. Did it irk her that the woman and her daughter didn’t recognize her brothers on this remote isle, that she’d known Erik instead, or because she’d been tricked by someone obviously known? Any option merely added to the hate she now exuded toward him. Any hope of another kiss, even to bury his nose in her glorious mane, was slashed apart forever.

Fy faen, he shouldn’t care. But Erik did. A lot.

…

“Did they”—Hannah lowered her voice to the slightest whisper—“rape her?”

Elizabeth’s eyes welled with tears, but she shook her head. “Leif came upon a man holding her…inappropriately in the barn, but stopped it before he could…” She shook her head. “He still beat Leif, and Eydis is terrified that they will return. We all are.”

Hannah glanced at the sleeping young woman who had shared her room with her. “I am deeply sorry.” She shook her head. “The man should pay for what he did and the fear he sows.”

“He and his men still threaten us,” Elizabeth added, “if Leif does not continue to let them steal half his crop of bere barley and several sheep each year.”

Hannah’s stomach, which had alternated between the hardness of fury and the queasiness of the waves, ached in a new way with this terrible information. These kind people lived in fear without any type of protection. The small group of villains were working on Patrick Stewart’s stone tower in the small village of Scalloway just north of the coast. Patrick, of course, had turned a blind eye to the plights of the native people who were being extorted and abused. He was like his father, Robert Stewart on Orkney Isle, whom her brothers had captured for trial in Edinburgh.

“If my brothers were here, Elizabeth,” Hannah said, “they would strike down those criminals or cart them off to Edinburgh to hang for their abuse.” But her brothers weren’t there. What could she do to help?

“How about the Wolf Warriors?” Elizabeth asked, glancing at the curtained-off archway that separated the sleeping room from the main house. “Can they help us?”

Wolf Warriors? Hannah snorted softly. What a ridiculous name. Although, the idea that her brothers were the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse could be seen as ridiculous, too. But her brothers would never steal away an innocent woman. Well, Cain had captured Ella, but they’d been at war with her clan. And as far as Hannah knew, they were not at war with Denmark-Norway.

“Will you ask them?” Elizabeth asked, bringing Hannah’s mind back to the terrible fear that hung over the small family.

Hannah nodded. “I’m not sure how long we will be here on Shetland, but I’ll ask them to do what they can. I’m their prisoner, so they probably won’t listen to me.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “Why would they take you prisoner if they are honorable men?”

Hannah had been too angry to ask. She shook her head. “I don’t actually know. I think it has to do with my brothers and their king’s mother wanting to control them.”

“Controlling God’s Horsemen? Impossible,” Elizabeth said.

Controlling them with me. She’d told Erik that her brothers wouldn’t come for her. A lie. One he’d seen through immediately.

When she thought of Bàs, growing up under her constant care and mothering, healing his wounds and calming his spirit when those around him hurt his feelings, she knew he would come for her. When she remembered the last time she’d seen Gideon, how she’d made him laugh despite his pinched brow, his look of brotherly love cast upon her, she knew he would come. And Joshua would tear the world apart for those he loved, which definitely included his younger sister. And Cain…the leader of their clan. Sober with dignity, he would use every means available to him to bring her home. Even starting a war against Denmark-Norway.

Hannah closed her eyes, willing the tears to stay inside. Bloody hell. They would all come for her, falling into whatever trap Sophie of Denmark had set, that royal bitch. Her eyes flew open. She must find out as much as she could about her enemy. The dowager-queen was the mother of King James’s wife, Anne of Denmark, who was now queen of Scotland. Surely, the mother didn’t want to force her brothers to war against her daughter. For what purpose was Hannah’s abduction?

“I need to talk to Erik,” she murmured, rising from the fur-draped bed she’d shared with the two girls, Eydis and Elizabeth, while Leif slept out by the fire.

“He brought this sack for you,” Elizabeth said, standing and motioning to the corner where a woolen bag sat. “This morning. Leif brought it in while you slept.”

“What’s in it?” asked Eydis from the bed. She yawned, pushing up to sit.

Sensing movement, Libby rolled over, blinking, and Trix sat up in a cross-legged position even though her eyes were still closed.

It was past dawn, the dark clouds finally giving way and letting light down to brighten the morning. Hannah unlaced the binding on the satchel, which was actually a large woolen blanket. Undone, the blanket fell apart to reveal clothing.

Eydis hurried over with a hushed gasp, her fingers touching the soft fur around the collar of a short cape. “’Tis all the pieces of a costume from Norway. So rich.” The soft woolen gown was the blue color of summer cornflowers, and the stitching in an intricate woven design along the cuffs, collar, and hem of the overdress was a sunny yellow. White daisies were sewn among the yellow design. Eydis helped Hannah pull each piece of the ensemble out, shaking the wrinkles free as best they could, while Libby and Trix hopped out of the large bed wearing clean tunics donated by Erik’s crew.

A smock of white linen was edged with lace. White stockings of warm, thin wool had embroidered flowers around the edge that hid ribbons to tie them just above Hannah’s knees. The underskirt was white, as were the stays, which were made of fine silk. The bodice was a work of art with wide, embroidered ribbons stitched to hide the clasps that closed the front over the stays.

“Let’s put it on you,” Trix said, rising on her toes.

“Is there one in my size?” Libby asked, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“I don’t think those who sent the Wolf Warriors to find Lady Hannah knew there would be two liten jenter with her,” Elizabeth said.

“Liten jenter?” Libby asked.

“Little girls,” Eydis translated. “Mama, perhaps we could see if Mistress Rachel has some dresses her girls outgrew.”

Elizabeth nodded. “For the Wolf Warriors, I am sure she will find something.”

“How have you heard of the…” Hannah turned from inspecting the fine garments. “Wolf Warriors?”

“Oh, they are legendary,” Elizabeth said, her eyes growing wide. “The strongest and most clever warriors in Norway and Denmark. They guard the border against Sweden, keeping them from stepping a foot in their great country without permission.”

“And they work for King Christian and his mother, Sophie of Denmark?” Hannah asked, holding the soft fur edging the short cape under her chin.

“I do not know,” Elizabeth said. She looked at her daughter. “I thought the Wolf Warriors stayed up in Norway along the northern coast, protecting the border there. ’Tis far to reach the court in Denmark.”

Eydis nodded agreement but turned her attention back to the beautiful costume. “This will be lovely on you and comfortable. And look,” she said, lifting a pair of boots off the wooden floor. “There are boots for you, too.”

“Erik Halverson sent Leif to the trading post to buy them for you,” Elizabeth said. She looked at Hannah. “To replace your ruined slippers.”

“How thoughtful,” Eydis said, and it was obvious from her tone that she thought Erik was a legendary hero and not the abductor of women and children.

To be fair, he hadn’t expected Trix and Libby to come along. Poor Cait and Rhona must be frantic with worry over the missing girls. And, soon enough, Gideon would be, too. No matter what, Hannah would get them back to Girnigoe.

An hour later, Hannah was dressed in the joyful ensemble, and Elizabeth had found two smaller gowns for Libby and Trix from their close neighbor, Rachel Nilsen. They weren’t as fine as the one provided to Hannah, but the girls twirled around in the soft wool frocks, Libby in a pale rose color that seemed a shade lighter than the heather across the moors and Trix in a green costume that reminded Hannah of the bright moss in the woods around Girnigoe. The girls loved them, and Hannah assured Elizabeth that Erik would pay Rachel for the garments.

“They are not your daughters?” Elizabeth asked as Trix and Libby ran out of the house to scatter some beans and barley for the chickens.

“No,” Hannah said, helping chop some root vegetables to be served later with fresh trout. “Their birth mothers have died, and my sister by marriage has adopted them. They snuck onboard the ship we came on.” She shook her head. “Cait must be so worried.”

Elizabeth tsked sympathetically and then looked at Hannah. “You do well with them. Do you have no children yourself?”

Hannah shook her head, feeling her cheeks warm. “Not yet. I hope to one day.” The woman didn’t look too much older than Hannah and had a daughter nearly grown.

“Erik Halverson is a Wolf Warrior and would make a strong child, I’m sure,” Eydis whispered to Hannah when she walked past. Hannah smothered a snort and blinked against the embarrassed tears in her eyes.

“Why do you have no husband?” Elizabeth asked.

Hannah felt battered by both whispered comment and question. “I… I…” She stood straighter, fluffing the white, pleated apron that Eydis said was part of the traditional ensemble. “My brothers are protective and big. They scare off any man who would dare court me.”

“They are not here,” Eydis said. “And the Wolf Warriors are.” Elizabeth frowned at her daughter. “Not for me,” Eydis said quickly. She shook her head and glanced down. “I don’t want to get near any man.” Fear and sadness twisted her words, squeezing Hannah’s heart for the girl.

Hannah went to her. Without a word, she hugged her, wishing she could pull some of the nightmare she’d experienced away from her. “We must teach you to feel strong,” she said over her shoulder. Elizabeth nodded her agreement. Hannah pulled back, keeping hold of Eydis’s shoulders. “I’ll teach you how to shoot with your father’s bow and arrows. ’Tis a skill of mine.”

They ate around the central fire in the outer room. In all this time, no man had stepped inside. “Is Leif helping with our ship?” Hannah asked.

“He’s nearby,” Elizabeth said. “’Tis all I know.” She glanced at Eydis and back at Hannah. “Since Lord Patrick’s men came, Leif doesn’t go far from our home.”

The poor man carried the lives of his wife and daughter on his shoulders, and it seemed all he had was a crude sword and a bow with a few arrows. Where the overseer of Shetland should have been the protector of his people, instead Patrick Stewart let his brutish men steal and abuse his people. Hannah would get word to King James about this issue. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too late. If she could find ink and paper, she’d write a letter to him on the Pedersens’ behalf and another to Queen Anne about her capture.

“You need a dog,” Trix said, nodding.

“A big wolfhound,” Libby added. “We have several around Girnigoe. They could protect you.”

Elizabeth smiled, looking dubious. “An extra stomach to fill.”

The two women looked thin, and yet they’d given so much to their visitors. Hannah suddenly didn’t feel as hungry, finishing just the one oat cake before standing. The short cape fell only over her shoulders, but it gave enough warmth on the summer morning to stave off the chill as she stepped outside.

Leif waved from the barn, and she returned his gesture, adding a smile so he wouldn’t think anything was amiss inside. Although, she wondered if she’d ever have a genuine smile again with all this bitter anger inside. It felt like poison creeping through her veins.

She looked across the pebbled yard where chickens scratched, and a milk cow munched on summer grasses. But she didn’t see Erik or his men. The storm had moved off, leaving a breezy morning, and she stepped down toward the beach. They were probably working on the ship, checking it for damage. “Poor Loinneil,” she murmured. The mare had been stuck on the ship through the tossing storm overnight.

As she climbed over the rise that protected the farmstead from the sea, Hannah gasped, pausing on the top ridge. She blinked, gazing out at the protective inlet from the bay. The water was flat with small waves washing up on the pebbled beach. A large waterbird swooped down to land on the dark greenish surface right where the ship should be. But it was nowhere in sight.

Erik’s ship, the Seieren, was gone.