It had been so long since she had been raiding. So long since she had held a sword in her hand, shouted a war cry with the warriors beside her, and leapt into battle against the unprepared Saxons.
She smiled faintly and ran her fingers along the ropes that were wrapped around the mast. The ships had been prepared for winter, but the touch of it all was so familiar. Torunn closed her eyes and imagined the smell of the open ocean, the sound of battle, and the thrill of her sword crashing against an enemy shield.
Hallvard would never let her go into battle again, and her new husband would see that she never took up a sword again.
Her hands clenched into fists at the thought of Jarl Sigurd. If she was forced to marry him, he would not survive their wedding night. That was a promise she could make herself. She would be killed, of course, but at least he would not have touched her.
That was enough.
“Will you bring her to speak to me?”
A voice pierced the silence around her and Torunn pressed herself against the prow of the ship.
“I will not endanger her,” another replied.
Bersi.
Another clandestine meeting. What was he planning?
She held her breath and peered over the edge of the ship. Bersi stood on the shoreline with his arms crossed over his chest as he spoke to a smaller man—but every other man was small beside Bersi.
“Varin,” she whispered.
The old warrior’s face was contorted in anger. “I will speak to her. You forget that you are a slave. You do not control anything.”
Bersi snorted. “Nothing controls that woman.”
Varin glared at him and Bersi raised his hands. “I understand that you want to speak to her. But what would you expect her to do?”
“The omens have returned,” Varin said. His voice was dangerously sharp and Torunn pressed herself forward against the bulkhead. Omens. What omens?
Bersi shook his head. “And what will she do about that? Take your superstitions to the priests.”
“The priests will not lead men into battle.”
Torunn’s fingernails bit into the wood and her heart began to beat strangely in her chest. What were they planning? Another rebellion? Her eyes narrowed as she watched the two men on the beach. Despite the mist that crawled over the shoreline, the shoreline was a risky place to conduct such business.
“And you think she will?” Bersi’s words were a quiet challenge and Varin’s chin came up slightly as his jaw tightened.
“She will when she knows what I do,” Varin snapped.
His voice echoed slightly in the stillness and Torunn ducked down behind the rail as Bersi glanced around.
“We are not safe here,” Bersi said.
“We are safe nowhere while that murderous pup sits on the Jarl’s throne,” Varin retorted.
“Careful.”
“I have not come this far in life by being careful. You know well enough how a man lives when he has no honor.”
“What is that supposed to mean,” Bersi growled.
Torunn rose up on her knees to peer over the rail again. Bersi’s entire stance had changed, but Varin appeared ready for battle as well.
She could not bear the suspense of it all. If they were to fight, someone would surely see them, or hear them… if they were questioned.
“Wait,” Torunn hissed. The two men spun around and Bersi’s mouth dropped open when he saw her. She beckoned them forward. “Get off the beach!”
Bersi approached the ship and glared up at her. “You should not be here.”
“Neither should you,” she said. “This is not the place for dangerous conversations.”
A shadow of a smile passed over Bersi’s face, and then Varin strode past him and clambered up the side of the ship. He dropped onto the deck in a crouch and favored Torunn with a grim smile.
“I did not expect to see you here,” he said.
She shrugged. “I did not expect to overhear talk of treachery so early in the morning.”
Varin’s smile faded as Bersi pulled himself over the rail and landed on the deck. “You should not be here,” he said.
“You should have been waiting for my commands this morning,” she retorted. Bersi looked down at the deck and shook his head, but she could see the brief return of his smile as he did so.
Torunn settled herself in a sitting position and rested her elbows on her knees. “What is so important that you would risk your lives to talk of it in secret?”
“How much did you hear?” Varin asked. He sank onto his knees and stared at her intently. His blue eyes burned with anger and Torunn wondered how much she really wanted to know.
“Enough to know that you are planning to move against my brothers,” she said simply.
“It is more than that,” Varin said. He glanced at Bersi, but the big man did not look up. If he was looking for support from the former rebel, it did not seem that he would get it. “The omens have returned. The people thought— The people thought that with Jarl Arnd’s death that the gods would turn a kinder eye upon Skaro. But… there have been signs.”
“What signs?”
Torunn had heard nothing of any omens, but she had been preoccupied.
“A birth…”
Her eyebrow rose. “A birth.”
Varin swallowed thickly. “Twins, like your brothers. Born with their birth cords wrapped around their necks. As though they had strangled each other in the womb…”
“And the mother,” Torunn whispered.
Varin shook his head. “She did not survive it.”
Torunn pressed her palm to her cheek and she took a breath. “Have there been others?”
“Birds falling from the sky. Ravens… A fat bullock brought in for sacrifice—healthy and bright eyed—when it was cut open, there were worms. It’s heart was more worms than muscle...”
“No more,” she muttered. “Do not tell me any more.”
“Your father’s death should have turned the favor of Asgard back to us,” Varin continued. “That was what your brothers believed.”
“My father should not have died,” Torunn snapped.
“No. He should not have.”
Bersi was watching her, but she could not bear to look at him.
“And he would not have—”
Torunn leapt on her opportunity. “You were there,” she said quickly. “How did it happen?”
Varin glanced at Bersi and then back to her when the big man would not meet his eyes. “I was not with him when it happened.”
“Why not? You were always with him!”
Varin shook his head. “I had been put in a separate force. We were chasing down a group of priests who had run into the woods with their treasure. They had seen our ships and left the monastery before we could ambush them.” He chuckled ruefully. “They are getting smarter, these heathens.”
“Varin— my father.”
The old warrior’s expression changed and he shook his head. “When we returned, he was with the healers. An arrow had pierced his chest. Asgaut… he told us that the camp had been ambushed, but he could not say who had done it.”
“We were sent to find the attackers, but there were no hoofprints, no signs that a battle had been fought. When we returned, Jarl Arnd was with the healer—Thidrick, his name was.”