Beyond a Darkened Shore(40)

With a determined set to my chin, I strode toward Leif. Before I could reach his table, though, a great bear of a man stood in my way. He licked his lips as he boldly stared at me, mead dripping from his beard.

“Ah, the wench is lonely,” he said with a lascivious sneer. “Come down from her tower for a tumble.”

My first instinct was to backhand him, but I stayed my hand. There was more than lust in his eyes, something more akin to bloodlust, and I would do well to be on my guard. “If you lay hands on me, I will ensure you never do so again.” I shifted to the balls of my feet, ready to move should he lunge for me.

As though I’d shouted, my comparatively high female voice drew the attention of every Northman in the room—save those who had already fallen into a drunken stupor. At the head of his table, Leif stirred, but I could spare him only the briefest glance. My full attention was on the Northman before me.

The man’s grin widened. “It is widely known that a spirited female is worth the effort.” He leaned forward until I nearly choked on the smell of his filthy, braided beard. “Much more fun when she’s finally broken.”

With surprising speed for one so large, his hand darted out. I dodged, but my cursed skirts tangled about my legs. He pressed me against the table, the wood digging into my back. A shout came from across the room, but neither the man nor I paid it any heed. I unsheathed my dagger and slashed it across his cheek.

His nostrils flared like a bull’s, and his eyes narrowed to slits, but he backed away. I tightened my grip on my dagger.

“You’ll pay for that, spawn of Loki,” he said in a snarl. “I’ll tear your gown from your body and have you here on the floor.”

As though I’d been stabbed with a burning blade, intense rage shot through me. He charged, and I held my dagger loosely, as Leif’s brief training had taught me. I would geld him like a horse; he would never threaten a woman again.

Before the Northman could reach me, Leif stepped in front of the rampaging Northman, his legs spread bracingly. “Ulric,” Leif said, his voice deadly, “stop now, or by Thor, I will kill you where you stand.”

Ulric halted, but his small eyes flashed with a burning hate. “Curse you, Leif. If you will deny me my rights, then I will cut you down.”

Leif’s countenance darkened murderously. “You have no rights to claim. She is an ally, which you well know.” He took a step forward. “And I do not take threats lightly.”

The scene was like that of a wolf challenging its alpha. A dark cloud of impending violence seemed to descend upon the hall. Those still conscious watched the interplay between the two men with growing anticipation, and I tensed, prepared for battle.

Ulric answered Leif by pulling an axe free from its fastenings on his back.

“So be it,” Leif said, and shot forward before Ulric could even lift the heavy axe.

He struck Ulric beneath his chin so hard his neck snapped back. Ulric swung his axe, but Leif struck him again and again in the face until blood sprayed from his nose. Leif’s blows were as fast as viper strikes and utterly merciless. Again, Ulric swung his axe. Leif dodged, and the axe split one of the long wooden tables in two.

Many of the men roared their approval, but I could only watch in grim silence.

Ulric charged again, axe raised, but Leif had grabbed a knife. He met Ulric’s charge with a powerful upward thrust of the blade. It lodged in Ulric’s heart, and the Northman fell to his knees. The axe clattered to the floor. After drawing one last struggling breath, the rest of Ulric’s body followed.

My heartbeat thudded in my ears as I stared in disbelief at the dead Northman at our feet. I had expected this to end with Ulric felled into unconsciousness, not death.

“Get this failed usurper from my sight,” Leif said, a look of disgust twisting his features. “Burn the body.”

Two men immediately moved forward to do as he asked. Grunting with effort, they lifted the broken body of Ulric into the air and carried him from the room.

The drumming sound of tankards hitting the table began soon after. “Olafsson! Olafsson!” the men chanted.

I stood in a sort of shock over the callous disregard for the dead—even if the man had been a disgusting cretin. I turned to Leif. “I hope you haven’t killed one of your own on my account.”

He glanced pointedly at the dagger I still clutched in my right hand. “And I am to believe you had no plans to use that?”

“Not to kill. Only geld, which would’ve been a just punishment for one so foul.”

Leif laughed humorlessly. “Deprive him of his manhood? Princess, he would have begged you for death. No, my punishment was much more humane.”

“Humane?” I said with an incredulous stare. “He is dead!”

“You don’t understand our ways, and yet you pass judgment. These men follow me of their own free will. They can leave at any time, but while they are under my leadership, they are not to challenge me.” His eyes darkened. “I warned you to stay in your room, and you paid me no heed. He would have taken great pleasure in raping you before all. What were you even doing down here?”

My cheeks flushed, and I bristled. “He never would’ve had the chance. I don’t need a man to defend me; I can protect myself.”

“You can—you’ve proven that before—but that doesn’t mean you need to go looking for dangerous situations to put yourself in.”