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“What did you do that for?” she demanded.
“Not now!” He kept moving. When she tried to pull free, his hand wrapped tightly on her upper arm as they fled from the marketplace.
Lothar finally stopped off the trail outside Droicheada to catch his breath. He released her arm.
“Why?” she asked between breaths.
“Your taxes are paid.” He noticed they were not being chased.
“Why did you do it?”
Lothar gazed into her green eyes. “So is my word, so is my bond,” he stated. He trudged back to the trail in silence. He heard her follow behind.
Lothar mulled the turn of events over in his mind, while he stomped through the mud. How could he explain to her that he had been duped? He was furious with himself and wanted to get away from the people in Droicheada. The outburst would have attracted unwanted attention to him, when he wanted to return home quietly.
He only had one cuff now, and the bargained price was hard enough with two cuffs, as voyages at this time of year were dangerous and expensive. To ask about a ship now would be futile.
Vowing silently, Lothar slammed his fist repeatedly into his hand. He would make whoever was responsible for taking the pony and cart of mead and honey regret their action. He suspected that Park and Serle were to blame.
He glanced back at Dara, whose teeth chattered.
“You’re chilled to the bone.”
Lothar pulled her cloak tighter over her head, removed the pelts he wore, and wrapped them around her shoulders. He scooped Dara into his arms, and flinched when her head rested against his injured shoulder. He took a calming breath, then hastened his steps home.
When he arrived at the hut, he kicked open the door, and quickly carried Dara inside. He set her feet down near the pallet. Her green eyes were outlined with red. The sight tore at his heart.
He removed her cloak and overdress.
Dara pushed weakly at his hands, to stop him from stripping off her linen under-dress.
“It must be removed, so you can dry off and warm up,” Lothar pointed out.
“Fine, turn around, I will remove it myself,” she wearily protested. Her arms struggled to untangle the garment from her skin.
Lothar turned around and tapped his foot while he waited.
“Help me,” Dara yelped.
“Yes, Valkyrie.” He pivoted, and stifled a chuckle. The under-dress was swirled halfway off. Her arms flailed about in midair.
“No peeking,” she cried.
Lothar snorted, “I will not be able to see what to do.”
“Hold the sleeves and I can twist out.”
He grasped the edge of each long sleeve and closed his eyes. He felt the material move as he listened to her struggle out of the dress. The material fell loose into his outstretched hands. He remained standing, honor-bound not to peek.
“I’m opening my eyes now, Valkyrie.”
There was no answer. He opened one eye slowly, and found her on the bed tucked under her blanket, her eyes already closed.
He draped her clothing on the edge of the table to dry, then stepped over and smoothed out the damp tendrils from her forehead. The skin was very cold to his touch, but she breathed steadily.
Lothar sidled over to the fire pit at the center of the room. He placed dry leaves and twigs into the fire-pit, and struck a flint against his fire-steel, creating a spark. He slowly fed the small flame with branches until it grew into a blaze. He placed a log on the fire, waiting until it began to burn, then rubbed his hands, finally satisfied with the glow of warmth it created in the room.
He removed his own drenched clothing, and grimaced as he put on the loincloth. Wrapping his blanket around his shoulders, Lothar moved the two stools closer to the fire, spreading out his clothes to dry between them.
He set the cauldron near the fire, planning to make onion and carrot soup.
Dara moaned, and Lothar moved to her side, relieved to find her asleep.
He recalled it was just a short time ago that he lay there while she took care of his wounded shoulder. Her courage, to take him into her home, was still a mystery to him. She had given him her hospitality when others would have left him to die. Lothar sensed his body’s reaction towards her generosity which had developed further than he anticipated.
Now he’d given one of his family cuffs as payment that under normal circumstances, the trader known as The Wolf, would have never have bartered away.
Lothar had begun to appreciate this land, even with the rain. The green growth appeared to be year round, unlike the weather at home this time of year. The winter weather would make traveling over the snow-covered land almost impossible except by wooden skis.
He remembered bow hunting with his close friends, Kori and Hakon. They came across a ten-point bull elk, and he’d shot it. The bull ran off with the arrow still in its chest. Falling snow hampered their tracking the animal, taking several hours for them to catch up to it. They found the animal lying in the valley, the arrow still attached. The elk snorted and kicked its legs frantically when they approached. Finally, its head dropped, its nose flared a few times, and it fell silent. The trek back home with the buck took longer with the new snow. Eventually they built a snow cave to sleep in for the night.
He smiled at the memory as he watched her sleep. He went back to stir the liquid in the cauldron, lifted the wooden ladle and smacked his tongue against his teeth. “Not much flavor,” he remarked. After he ladled some of the soup into a goblet, he brought it over to Dara, then shook her shoulder slightly, to wake her.
“Something to warm you.” He offered her the goblet.
Dara perched herself on her elbows. “I’m too tired to eat.”
“Drink it,” Lothar advised, “to keep up your strength.”
“Not now, maybe later,” she yawned.
He brought the liquid to her lips and poured a slight amount into her mouth when she yawned.
She spluttered as the liquid spilled into her mouth. He put the goblet next to her mouth again. She relented and took five more mouthfuls before lying back on the pallet.
Lothar watched her shiver under the blankets. He was determined to get her warm. He removed the blanket from his shoulders and placed it over her blanket. He raised one side of the blankets, eased himself next to her on the pallet, pulling the blankets over both of them. He rubbed her arms and back to generate more warmth as he held her close. Gradually, he felt the heat radiate between them.
He groaned when she turned and sleepily nuzzled against his shoulder, the closeness of her flesh teased every muscle in his body as her arm draped across his chest and her knee arched close to his groin. He took deep breaths, and tried to relax his muscles. His manhood twitched against his thigh in response to the woman he held, and he sighed in frustration. He inhaled the scent of her hair and pressed his lips softly against her forehead.
How could this be happening to him? He was supposed to be gone, yet he detected in his heart that he needed her in his life.
He relaxed as he pondered further. Was there a good reason for him to leave? After years of raiding, his father had made his fortune by trading, then became chieftain of the village. His mother had journeyed to the afterlife. Ulin would not miss him at all. Lothar could start his own life in this new land with the woman beside him.
He watched the flames of the fire-pit recede to embers, and contented himself in just holding Dara.
He smiled when he realized the Seiðrs were correct in their reading of the Runes. He did find his heart’s desire in this land, and she lay next to him.
