The Viking's Captive
Lily Harlem
Chapter One
“If you’d seen what I had, you’d be terrified.” Duna Terin dumped the last of the tanned hides onto the pile, then turned and placed her hands on her hips. “I promise you, Father, you’d be running for the hills.”
“You’re being histrionic, lass,” Ronan Terin said, stoking the hearth fire. “As usual.”
“I’m not, I tell you, there was a longship on the horizon again. The Nordic savages are sailing past us right now. Right this very day.”
“Exactly, past, we have nothing to offer them here on our small island.”
“Nothing to offer? We have goats and hens, fertile land that we use well, and look, hides of the finest quality.”
“You have many there.”
“There are orders in from the Laird and villagers. Also Esca needs a new saddle.” She brushed her palm over her woolen dress. It was getting old; she needed to earn a few coins to buy another.
Ronan raised his eyebrows. “Esca is not that rich.”
“Maybe he is.” Duna glanced up at the thatched roof. It was windy again, coming from the east, which didn’t bode well. They needed to replace the thatch, but that was costly and her father wasn’t the young man he used to be. Maybe she should take Esca up on his marriage proposal. Another man in the house would ease the burden of running their croft, and Esca did seem to have coins in his pocket if not a big farmstead of his own.
“Here, you should eat,” Ronan said, taking a seat on a hard wooden chair. In his hand he held an earthenware bowl full of steaming broth. “There’s no meat in it.”
She hadn’t expected there to be. The goats were too precious to kill, at least while they were producing milk. “That doesn’t matter.” She tightened her shawl around her shoulders. Despite it being early summer she was cold. Some meat in her dinner and on her bones would have been good for her.
She took a bowl and filled it, the scent of sage and onions filling her nose.
“Any eggs this morning?” Ronan asked.
“Yes, four.”
“I am pleased.” He nodded and slurped from his wooden spoon.
“And I will make bread.”
“You’re a good girl, Duna.” Her father smiled. “I thank God every day for you. I wouldn’t have survived without you after your mother passed and…”
“Shh, you don’t have to say that, you know I’ll always be here for you.” She stared at the flames licking up from the iron grate and thought of her beautiful, kind mother. She missed her too, but the past could not be undone. Sickness was a terrible thing. “I’ll always be here for you.”
There was nowhere else for her to go. The Shet Isles were home. Admittedly a cold, blustery home, which threw many challenges their way. But she loved it, and the people in it.
There was a sudden loud knock on the door.
“Enter,” her father called.
Duna stood and set down her bowl with a rattle. A shard of panic rushed through her. What if it was the Nordic savages she’d seen in their dragon boat? Maybe they’d landed on the beach to the west and come to pillage their home.
She swallowed down the bolt of fear. It was only Esca who stepped into their humble abode, ducking a little so his tall, lean frame could fit through the doorway.
“Duna.” He smiled, then it dropped. “You’re eating, I’ll return.”
“No, please, come in.”
“Would you like to join us?” Ronan said. “It’s not much, but it’s warm.”
“No, thank you.” He inclined his head. “I have been to Rockslewn Beach.”
“And.” Duna held out her hands. “Did you see it too?” If only someone would take the threat seriously, and not dismiss the barbarians who came so close.
“See what?” He frowned.
“The Norsemen in their boat? The prow was so high, the sail so big, it couldn’t be missed.”
“I saw no boats, and definitely no Norsemen. The wind is whipping through the trees and chopping up the sea. It would be a foolhardy fisherman to be out on the water now.”
“They are not fishermen. They are warriors, expert mariners. I keep telling my father we should be preparing for them. It’s only a matter of time before they don’t sail on past and decide to come and see what they can steal from us.”
“Duna, please do not concern yourself.” Esca stepped close and took her hand in his. His pale skin was cool, his fingers slender, delicate almost.
“Do not concern myself? These are not men, they are monsters. They will rape and pillage, ransack our homes, destroy our stores and livestock. If we don’t die at their hands on a raid, we will die when winter comes.”
“Be calm.” He frowned. “That’s not going to happen.”
“There are tales from the mainland, and I know that is exactly what happens.”
“Tales and fables,” Ronan said. “Your imagination is too wild, daughter of mine. Concern yourself with the tasks around our home and your leather sewing.”
“Of course that’s what I do and will continue to do.” She tugged her hand from Esca’s. “I’m merely pointing out that we should be prepared, our men should have axes to hand, day and night. We should have lookouts posted around the island.”