The port of Jorvik looked sullen and grey under the overcast sky as the ship approached. Eight days had passed since you left Ulvehi, a fast journey across the Western sea. You glared at the town as sails were pulled down and oars were put out to guide the longship up the mouth of the river Ouse. Ulvehi's, and your father's, banner were raised high and Asgeir wasn't challenged as the ship passed the chains that protected the port from attacks.

Instead a man was waiting at the dock, raising a hand in greeting as the oars gently brought the ship to a halt.

"Asgeir of Ulvehi, what are you doing here? They told me one of Agnar's ships had been spotted, but this is a surprise!"

The man spoke Norse with an accent you couldn't place, but Asgeir seemed to know him well. They embraced once he'd jumped off the railing and landed with a thud on the planks of the dock.

"Good to see you, Ulf," Asgeir smiled, "It's been a while hasn't it?"

"Many years I think, I didn't think we'd see you in Jorvik again. What made you brave the journey?"

"No bravery," he grimaced in return, "Don't we own the Western sea these days?"

Ulf chuckled as the gangway was laid out and Asgeir gestured up to you.

"Jarl Agnar's daughter is to marry Ealdorman Cuthbert of Ripon and I've been charged to bring her to him."

Ulf looked up at you and bowed his head, "You're in luck then, he's in town for a few more days. The king has just left Jorvik, there was a council on how to deal with King Malcolm of Scotland, he's causing trouble."

Asgeir frowned at Ulf, "How much trouble? Are the roads safe? The Jarl will not leave his daughter here if these lands will be Scottish."

"Agnar was always too cautious," Ulf scoffed, "The northern forces will deal with Malcolm, and the king is sending reinforcements from the south. But come, you and the Jarl's daughter can stay with me until the Ealdorman is ready to receive his new bride. Save you braving the new inn, my beds are softer on the backs of old men, Asgeir."

Ulf held out his hand, pointing away from the docks, and led the way. Asgeir shouted orders for a few of the men to follow, while the rest secured the ship.

You walked next to Asgeir, Ravn close on your heels, as you looked around the new city. The area closest to the port was much like Skiringssal, or Sigtuna, filled with a clutter of wooden houses, workshops, and shops, but the Anglo Saxon Christian presence was much stronger here. Most people seemed to have simple crosses around their necks, and small groups of monks crossed in front of you as you passed a large church.

"I didn't realise Jorvik was so Christian," you said to Ulf in Norse, and he glanced back at you.

"King Cnut is Christian, and so is York. Many of the remaining Norsemen have converted, or been born into Christianity now. The Danes are Christian too, but some still hold to the old gods."

"I remember coming here as a young man," Asgeir added, "Jorvik was a Norse city then, and the only Anglo Saxons we saw were traders from Wessex or Mercia.

"Cnut stabilised trade, and the Norse in Jorvik find it easier to accept a Danish king than one from Wessex, so the north is calmer now than back then. But the Danelaw is fading, strangely enough under a Danish king, we'll all be English soon."

"What do you know about Cuthbert of Ripon?" you asked, and Asgeir gave you a sharp look, the meaning clear.

"Not the most powerful man in these parts, but he's rich and has an extensive trade network with connections in Frankia. He only has daughters by his late wife though, so he'll be keen to have sons quickly enough."

"So his wife died then," you said, not bothering to keep the disdain out of your voice, "Last we heard she was still alive and he was just waiting for her to pass before finding a new brood mare."

Asgeir inhaled sharply, grabbing your arm as Ulf stopped and turned to you.

"My house is here," he replied in a low voice, pushing open a door in a low wooden wall, "and you should keep your opinions to yourself. Christian men expect their wives to be silent and meek. You'd do best to remember that, and forget your Norse customs."

"Silent and meek is not how I was brought up," you replied, shoving at Asgeir's arm as he ushered you inside.

"I know, that's why I'm warning you," Ulf said, "Do you not think I was raised by a Norse mother? She ruled our household, ruled the men, thralls, beasts, and my father too. But Cuthbert is not Norse, and you will not fare well in his household if you don't hold your tongue."

"You see what you're forcing me into?" you hissed at Asgeir as Ravn gave a low growl, sensing the tension.

"I serve your father," he replied, but his face was unhappy as Ulf led the two of you further into his front yard, leaving the men that had followed from the ship behind. You cursed them all under your breath, and the people in Ulf's household gave you odd looks as you stomped through the house.

Asgeir sent word back to the ship, and Ealdorman Cuthbert, and soon a messenger came back with an invitation for the very next day. It seemed the high ranking Anglo Saxon was keen to meet his new bride, and move forward with the wedding quickly. And you were equally keen to postpone the whole thing as much as possible, praying to Freya that Pero was safe, wherever he was.

But no amount of pleading with Asgeir helped the next day. He just shook his head and ordered you into the carriage that had been readied for the short journey across to the Ealdorman's home in York.

You already knew this lord had his main seat at Northmere Hall west of York, it was where he'd been preparing to travel too when word came of your arrival. But in York he resided at a large house near the church that dominated the centre of the town, and it was to this place Asgeir and the retinue of Norsemen that had come on the ship escorted you the next day.

Being led into the smokey hall felt like being led into a prison, many times worse than when you'd first met Grim. All your fears about Cuthbert of Ripon seemed to come true, as he pushed himself up from the high seat at the top of the great hall. The lank, grey hair was combed back in greasy strands, and the heavy wool cloak looked like it dwarfed the short man. As he stepped down, the sheath of his sword clanked against the high seat, making him stumble and curse. He was built like a man who had spent too many winters at the feasts, and not a single summer raiding.

But Asgeir bowed low and introduced you, and the old man let his gaze drift over your form. He seemed to take no notice of your face, or to the words Asgeir was saying. Instead he inspected your body as if he was appraising a cow, mumbling something to the man standing next to him.

You recognised him as the envoy who had been at Ulvehi last year, Edmund. He must've lied to your father to get him to agree to this marriage, and you wondered to yourself what Assar and Saga would say if they saw who their Jarl thought was a suitable groom for his daughter. But of course, your father had never met the Ealdorman, all he knew was that there was money, and a trade network to use.

The small carved dog Pero had given you pressed against your chest, hidden underneath your clothes, and the rounded shape of the bone against your skin made you feel less alone as you tried to ignore the eyes of the men and women studying you from around the edges of the hall, and the old man leering at his new bride.

Cuthbert had made his way down from the dais, and across the stone floor to where you were standing just in front of Asgeir.

"So, she looks healthy enough," Cuthbert remarked, "Wide hips, clear skin, and I've been told she has all of her own teeth even."

Looking over at Asgeir he nodded, "You can send word back to your master that I'll accept her as my new wife. She'll give us heirs that can continue to build what their fathers have founded."

You bit your tongue, forcing back the rage that filled you as the despicable man spoke of you as if you were a new thrall. What would Pero think if he could see you now? Reduced to the same status as he was, only disguised as a marriage? The old Pero probably would've thought it was fair; the Jarl's daughter getting a taste of what her own family's thralls suffered. But your Pero, he would take this man's head for even suggesting he could own you.

The thought almost made you smile as you imagined your strong mercenary cutting down the Ealdorman. And there would be no heir to this old man, no matter how hard he tried.

Behind you Asgeir nodded as the English words were translated into Norse.

"If it pleases the Ealdorman, we can begin preparations for the wedding as soon as possible," he replied, and the translator passed the message on to Cuthbert.

"No need," Cuthbert said, shaking his head, "All is already taken care of. We will do the betrothal ceremony now, and then we will have the wedding tomorrow. I have already alerted the monks at York Minster. The feast will be lacking, of course, but as my third wife, that is hardly the most important part."

"Now?" you said, "It's too soon, I-we are not ready."

Cuthbert looked at you with a frown, "Why isn't she ready?" he asked, turning to Asgeir, "She's been wed before, has she not? I was told she was a widow."

The translator quickly relayed the message, but before Asgeir could get the full message, you shook your head.

"I am not ready. We have just arrived to Jorvík, we need time to prepare for a wedding and-"

"Lady, I don't wish to be crude," the Ealdorman cut you off, "and I know you might not be familiar with our traditions, but I was told you were wedded to a Christian man and converted. And as a widow you are sure to be familiar with all the duties of a wife."

You opened your mouth to contradict him, but he held up his hand and snapped his fingers, "In my household, as in any Christian household, a wife holds her tongue when her husband speaks. As I said, I don't wish to be crude, but a son and hair must be produced, and God will only see that happen in the marital bed, and I have no wish to wait."

"But I do," you replied, finding your voice again as the translator furiously whispered to Asgeir. His hand shot out to close around your arm, as Cuthbert frowned, "I do not know you, you do not know me. I ask you for some days to at least become familiar an-"

"Silence!"

The order rang out across the hall and as one, everyone stilled. Asgeir's grip on your arm tightened and you heard him hiss behind you as the translator relayed what was being said.

"Do not anger him."

"No, lady, do not anger me!" Cuthbert spat, "Listen to your father's servant and hold your tongue."

He waved behind him, and a priest hurried down from where he'd been standing behind the high seat, followed by Edmund, the envoy.

"Ordgar, oversee the betrothal, and Edmund, go to the church, tell Bishop Godwine we are doing the wedding today."

Edmund bowed and passed you as he hurried through the hall, Cuthbert looking back at you.

"And tell him the bride might not be willing, but he knows my support," he called after him.

"Asgeir, please! I am not ready!" you said, turning to your father's envoy in this whole shamble with a desperate plea, but his face was drawn, and he shook his head.

"Your father's will stands, you're to marry the Ealdorman, and it's up to him to decide when."

"Nidingr," you spat at him, "Traitor, the Norns will curse you."

"You father…" he replied, but you shoved him away, making him lose his grip on you, there was no help coming from him.

Instead Cuthbert grabbed your arm, his grip strong despite his short stature, and pulled you around to face him.

"Speak the words, Ordgar. Asgeir will answer for her."

Ordgar, the priest, nodded and drew a deep breath and called loudly enough for all in the hall to hear.

"Give hand to hand and faith to faith. Who speaks for this woman?"

"No one!" you spat in reply, but Ordgar looked past you as the translator mumbled to Asgeir.

"Before witnesses I pledge her hand, her kin hears this pledge," he said, his voice low, but it seemed to be enough for the priest.

"My Lord Ealdorman?"

"I pledge before God and these witnesses that I will keep her lawfully as wife," Cuthbert replied.

"Does my voice not count at all?" you asked loudly, "I do not consent."

"In my household, you consent whether you want it or not," Cuthbert replied sharply, and the priest made the sign of the cross over your joined hands, "Now, the bishop will join us, and then you are mine, as your father wanted."

He let go of your hand and drew back, his men moving forward and preparing for the departure to the church, leaving you standing alone in the middle of the great hall.

Asgeir came up behind you, holding your cloak that had been left at the door, "Lady, he is powerful, do not anger him. Let him wed you and then you can have an easy life, just carry his children and he will be happy."

He spoke in a low voice, in Norse, as he helped the cloak over your shoulders.

"You carry his children then, I do not-"

"His first two wives did not die natural deaths," Asgeir mumbled, taking hold of your arm again, "I cannot protect you here."

"Then why did you bring me?"

Asgeir flinched at the hatred in your look, and you turned away before he could reply. The Ealdorman's men were approaching, and without words they ushered you and Asgeir to the waiting wagons.

The ride to the church was short and silent, and your wagon drove an extra lap around the town to give Cuthbert and his household time to arrive first and prepare the bishop. Asgeir sat next to you, but you turned your head away from him, and willed the tears clinging to your lashes to not fall.

"I am sorry," Asgeir mumbled, as the wagon circled the church, "If I could take you back to Norway, I would. But as it stands, both you and I, and the crew, would be dead before we cleared Jorvik harbour."

"Did you know?" you asked him, still staring through the lattice window of the wagon, "Did you know what kind of man he was?"

You felt Asgeir take your wrist, making you turn to look at him.

"No, and I swear it on the old gods, had I known, I would've sailed us both up to Upsala, for protection from these Christian traditions. I have known you since you were born, and I've served your father even longer. Never did I think I would bring you into this much danger."

"Then tell my father, when you go back. Tell him and make him come, or tell Assar and the Steinvikr men."

Asgeir nodded as the wagon pulled up in front of the church, "I will, I promise."

"And find Pero Tovar. If you want my forgiveness for this, find him and make sure he is safe."

"Your…your father will not allow a thrall to marry you…" Asgeir shook his head, looking pained as your nails dug into his hand.

"I don't care about marriage, or where I live or how. The only thing that matters is that Pero is safe, and with me. We can settle at the end of the eastern rivers for all I care, just help Pero find me. And then my father can pretend he never had a daughter for all I care."

The door of the carriage was pulled open, and Asgeir looked at the man who was reaching in to grab your arm, and then back at you.

"The love you have for him…it's clear. I'll try, I promise."

Someone tugged on your arm, and you glared at the guard as he pulled you from the carriage, making you stumble before you looked up at the scene outside the church. The dark stone building was the largest you'd ever seen in your life, and the imposing height of the tower drew your gaze upwards, towards the rain heavy clouds racing past just out of reach of the cross that topped the building.

The heavy wooden door stood open, and the armed men that formed a guard around the church yard urged you on, through the curious crowd that had gathered, pulling your gaze from the sky above and into the dark interior. Asgeir followed, his head bowed, as the rest of the men from Ulvehi formed up behind him.

Vaulted ceilings rose above you inside the church, hazy with smoke from the incense, a scent you recognised well from Sigtuna, together with cold stone and wet wool. Candles burned before the altar in wavering gold flames, their glow catching silver chalices and the dim red paint of ancient saints upon the walls. In the distance you heard monks chanting, Latin incantations hummed through the dark. The windows of the great church were small, letting in only a smidgen of daylight on this glum day, and the dim mood of the nave seemed to suit your own.

Reluctantly you walked down the aisle to the waiting bishop and your supposed husband to be. Asgeir followed behind, and two of Ulvehi's hirdmen, the rest remained outside. Cuthbert looked impatient, and the bishop looked bored, picking at his nails with a dull face as you approached.

"Godwin, read the words," Cuthbert said before you'd even reached the altar, and the bishop turned, facing the large altar piece where the fat, yellow wax candles waved in the draft.

It was as if you left your body, rising above the scene in the church. The foreign Latin words washed over the empty form without meaning as you looked down at the woman standing behind the priest, next to the man who was meant to soon be your husband.

This was not you. This was just your body being subjected to the will of these men. A shell that meant nothing. Your true self was floating in the rafters, searching for a way out so that you could look over the Western Sea and see if a scarred mercenary was coming for you.

Below, on the cold stone floor that made your back ache, words were spoken, promises made on your behalf that held no meaning. You searched the horizon for that ship as your voice answered the bishop's question far below, and when your hands were joined with Cuthbert's, he had to hold them tight, your limp grip slipping through his fingers. The words spoken were not a promise to anyone, they held no meaning to you. The man you called husband was somewhere else, and as you searched the horizon for him, meaningless figures moved on the church floor far below.

You sat through the meagre wedding feast in a daze, seeing it all as from above still. Your hands were cold, and you tucked them inside your dress. The small bone dog was warm where it was hidden against your skin, and you stroked it with your thumb, caressing the small scar across its eye. You were still searching for him, even as the evening turned to darkness. Spring evenings here in England weren't long and light as they were in your home, but as your body went through the motions of standing up and following the man they now called your husband, you still searched the darkening horizon for the ship that had to be coming.

But not even your mind could protect you from the wedding night as the heavy oak door of the bed chamber closed. The thump cut through your daze as Cuthbert unbuckled his sword belt. He leaned it against the wall by the fireplace and turned to you, setting aside his gloves with the same care he had shown his sword.

“If you are wise,” he said, “you will give me a son quickly.”

You said nothing, trying to return to where you could search the horizon, but your mind was frozen as you watched him hang the cloak over a chair and pull his tunic over his head.

Outside, somewhere far below the chamber windows, drunken voices still echoed through the hall. He crossed the room toward you as though approaching some long-awaited inheritance.

"On the bed now, wife."

The wind tugged at his clothes again as Pero stared down at Thorsten's broken gaze, and behind him Assar stepped closer and looked down at the corpse.

"I never liked him, good riddance," he said, "I would've killed him myself if you hadn't."

Bending down he snatched the money purse hanging at the belt and shoved it into Tovar's hand, and Pero looked up, pulled out of his daze.

"Thank you, I…"

"Take the silver, keep her safe," Assar said, "She loves you, so keep her safe. Now you'd better run, hide in the forest, head south."

"I have a ship to England waiting. Thank you, I owe you my life," he said, hastily sheathing his sword and giving Assar a short bow,

"You'd better run fast, Tovar, she'll sail any moment with this wind," Assar replied, waving him away, "Run! And tell her I'll see her in Valhalla!"

The wind chased Pero as he bolted through the back streets, back towards the dock. In the distance he could hear shouts going up as people caught sight of a dark haired man with a blood stained tunic and a great long sword in his hand. But he didn't have time to try to avoid them, or stay hidden. The wind was strong, and he knew the ship would be pushing out from the dock at any moment.

The air seemed to escape his lungs in short bursts, a burning pain with every breath he took as he ran, skidding across the muddy ground. The harbour came into view, and he pounded across the wet planks, making people jump out of the way at the sight of his face. At the end of the dock he saw Godric waving at him, shouting something. The ship was still there, and Godric standing on the railing as ropes were cast onto the ship.

"Run! Run!"

Tovar jumped over a crate, the great sword tight in his hand, and stumbled the last few steps. Throwing the sword over the edge of the railing, he leapt, grabbing hold of the slippery wood. Hands grabbed his arms, scraping his nose as he was tugged onto the ship, and with a groan he tumbled onto the deck, rolling onto his back as he gulped big lungfuls of air. Around him oars creaked as they were pushed out, Aelfric calling for the sails to be raised.

"Dammit, man, get out of the bloody way," he snapped at Tovar, kicking his sword out of the way, "'If I get hanged for whatever you did, I'll be haunting you in the next life."

Tovar scrambled to his feet, grabbing his sword and moving to the edge, slumping down next to Godric who was hunkered down against the hull.

"You had me worried there, Tovar," he said, clapping him on the shoulder, "Letting me risk all that, only for you to run off and get yourself killed over a sword."

"I'm sorry," Tovar panted, leaning back and drawing another deep breath as his racing heart began to slow down, "That man…if it had been any other man with my sword, I would've left it. But him…he's hated me since the first hour, and he was the one who betrayed me. I couldn't leave it with him."

"What happened? Did you…kill him?" Godric lowered his voice, making sure none of the other men on the ship could hear their conversation over the rush of the wind and creaking wood, "And how were you even able to call on the aid of someone like Saga of Steinvikr? She only told me she knew you and that you needed help escaping."

"She is the cousin of the daughter of the Jarl of Ulvehi, my wife."

Pero smiled at the word, wife, as Godric's mouth fell open. It felt good to say it out loud.

"You married the Jarl's daughter? How did he allow that?"

Pero almost laughed out loud, "He didn't, he doesn't even know it. When he found out his daughter had…"

He paused, he didn't even know how to say it. How could he explain what had happened in the past two years at Ulvehi? The anger he'd felt at first, he knew Godric would well understand that. But the rest? The slow growth of trust and friendship, and the early tender feelings he'd had. The growing need to first protect you, and then to be near you, to touch you. It had moved so slowly, and settled so deeply, that looking back he could hardly understand how he'd looked at you with hatred.

"Tovar?"

Godric looked at his friend, who had suddenly gone quiet, staring off into the distance past the ship's hull.

"She's my wife, because she said she's my wife. Not because a priest said it," Pero replied, "She carries my child, and she's been taken to England to marry against her will. I have to find her again, and keep her safe. Both of them."

Godric looked at Pero with wide eyes, "I think you need to start from the beginning, friend. We have at least a week's journey, and I'll need a good story to keep me entertained."

It wasn't an easy journey across the ocean back to England. A late spring storm rushed in from the north, and flurries of snow bit the faces of the men sailing the ship. Pero and Godric huddled down as best they could in the open hull, but shivered their way through the journey. Godric was less used to sea voyages than Pero, and when the storm hit he spent as much time hanging over the railing as he did hunkered down. Pero grabbed hold of the belt around his waist, hooking his arm through it to keep the man from falling overboard. They didn't sleep many hours as the storm raged.

As the ship finally made its way up the Ouse, both men stood by the railing, looking with relief out over the green lands they'd been taken from two years earlier.

"We're a lot further north, but I can make my way south along the coast once I've helped you find the Ealdorman," Godric said as they watched the green banks of the river flow past, "I've got family further inland, I don't think I'll be settling near any rivers or oceans again."

"Thank you, Godric," Pero replied, "I'll make sure you don't leave empty handed."

"I'm not doing it to get paid, Tovar," the other man protested, but Pero shook his head.

"I know, but you should have some of Thorsten's silver too an-"

He cut himself off as he saw Aelfric, the ship's captain, approach them where they stood at the bow of the ship.

"Jorvik is less than half a day's row up the river now, and I want no trouble there, so I'm letting you off here," he said, pointing to a small shallow beach just up ahead.

"I paid you to take us to York," Godric protested, but Aelfric shook his head.

"I know you caused some sort of trouble back in Skiringssal, and odds are I'm not able to go back there any time soon. Which is fine, I can trade in Hedeby or Ribe. But I don't want trouble in Jorvik, so you leave us here, or not at all."

Tovar nodded, and put his hand on Godric's arm, "Calm, friend, he's right. We shouldn't be seen in York, it's best if we leave them here."

Aelric looked relieved, eyeing the large sword that Tovar had hanging from his hip, "Thank you for understanding. I'll make sure no one knows you came across on my ship."

"Thank you," Tovar replied, and Aelric gave him a quick nod before retreating to the rudder of the ship.

It only took a few more moments before the ship pulled up alongside the low bank, and a simple plank was put out. Tovar and Godric made their way off the ship, and as soon as their feet touched the ground, Aelric shouted an order and the plank was pulled back in. It was only a moment's work, and then the oars came out and the ship was on its way again.

"England, at last!" Godric said, sinking down to his knees with his hands on the grassy bank, "I'd given up hope, never thought I'd see it again."

"We're not safe yet, amigo," Tovar replied, looking around them, "We need to find a village or a hamlet and buy supplies. Then I need to find out where I can find this Ealdorman. And I'll need your help. This," he pointed to the scar that cut across his eye, "is far too easy to recognise and remember."

Godric pushed himself up, nodding, "Agreed, and remember we're still in the Danelaw, plenty of Norsemen around here."

"Yes, and even if word of our escape hasn't made it here yet, the Jarl will send men after me, I'm sure. And I intend to be far away by the time they get here."

He pulled the cloak he'd bought from Aelric around his shoulders, pulling up the hood too, "Let's move, if we follow the river we should find a village."

The smokey air of the hall of Ealdorman Cuthbert's home in Jorvik stung your eyes as you bent over the bowl of stew that was your dinner. Around you the household bustled, the Ealdorman entertaining another set of important men from around Jorvik. He'd been sitting next to you, but now he'd moved down the table, drinking ale with some of the men. The men were raucous, and you knew too well how this evening would end, just like all the others had in the two endless weeks that had passed since your wedding.

You would try to take any opportunity you could find to slip away early, but Edmund, the man who had served as the Ealdorman's envoy to Ulvehi, would stop you before you could exit the hall, or catch up with you as you hurried away. Edmund was, you'd quickly learnt, much more intelligent than his master. He missed very little, and seemed to always be nearby, always listening and gathering information. Information he then passed onto Cuthbert, and you were sure he made all the servants share any, and all, of your secrets.

He was also cruel, and seemed to take dark satisfaction in seeing you humiliated. Once the wedding night was done, he made sure you had no privacy in the Ealdorman's house. It wasn't that you weren't used to the habit of sharing sleeping quarters with family, and sometimes thralls. You'd grown up hearing your parents' intimate moments as you slept in your bed in their room back at Ulvehi. It wasn't until your brother married and moved into a smaller longhouse with his wife that you had your own bedchamber, and even that you'd shared with Amina.

But here in Jorvik, the girl assigned as your maid slept on the floor in a corner, and Edmund had his bed in another. As the Ealdorman's closest advisor, he was given the honour of having his quarters in the same room as his master. And he treated the room as his own, walking in when he must know you would be undressing, the maid doing nothing but obeying him as he yanked open the door. Commenting on your body, he would urge you to become pregnant quickly, as you tried to pull your tunic up to cover yourself.

"Make sure his seed takes, or I'll have to find another broodmare," he grinned, "Wasn't that what you called yourself?"

"Get out!" you spat at him the first time it happened, as you tried to wrap the tunic around yourself, yanking it from the hands of the maid. She, the useless thing, was staring down at her feet as Edmund approached.

"No, I stay as close to my lord as he needs me, and make sure his wife does her duty as a good Christian woman."

Pressing your lips together you scowled at him, but held your tongue. The last thing you wanted was for Edmund to force you to convert, if he found out you hadn't confessed to their weak god. He smirked, tilting his head as he made a show of looking up and down your half naked body.

"Get her ready for the Ealdorman, he'll be here soon. And if you're not with child soon, maybe I'll fuck you too. Who would know if it was his son or my bastard that you whelped?"

He cackled, and retreated to his bed in the corner as you quickly pulled your sleeping clothes over your head, pressing back the tears that threatened to overflow.

You'd thought then, that first night after the wedding, that you could tell Cuthbert about Edmund's behaviour. Your father would never have allowed anyone in his household to speak to his family in that way, but you quickly learned that your new husband was indifferent to any of your discomfort. And worse even, Edmund had him under his thumb, in some way controlling him, but you'd yet to find out how. Cuthbert did what Edmund suggested, deferred any decision to him, and conferred on all issues. It was only outwardly that it looked as if the Ealdorman was the leader of the household. Behind closed doors, everyone knew who held the real power.

So as you sat at the table with your cold stew, you glanced over at Edmund, looking for a moment to slip away when he wouldn't notice. Cuthbert called for more ale, the feast growing more rowdy, but Edmund still had his eyes on you. It was a small comfort that tomorrow you would leave Jorvik and head to Northmere Hall with a Cuthbert and a retinue of his men. Edmund would remain in town and handle the trade. You presumed it was to begin setting up the lucrative trade network into Norway that your marriage had granted them, but you didn't know. You weren't told anything anymore, except where to be when Cuthbert needed you.

Eventually, after you'd stood up twice, only to be waved at by Edmund to sit down again, did Edmund come up to you at the end of the long evening.

"The Ealdorman wishes you to retire to the chambers, my lady," he said, always the same unpleasant tone to his voice even when he was addressing you in the correct manner, "He will join you shortly."

Standing up, you turned without a word and left the hall, and like a shadow, the maid followed. Perhaps you should try to win Edmund over, when all you wanted was to drive your knife into him. He was powerful, and it didn't serve you well to have him as your enemy. Right now he only treated you with the same disdain and malice he did everyone he considered beneath him, but if you weren't careful, you were sure he would turn truly vicious. No one had guessed your state yet, but you counted the weeks, and soon you would show. And then Cuthbert was sure to claim the child as his own, but you knew Edmund would count the weeks too and realise that it didn't add up. If he wished too, especially if the child turned out to be a girl, you had no doubt he would use that against you to his own benefit somehow.

Pulling the curtains around your bed tight, shutting out the world for just a little bit, you bit down hard on your tongue. Panic was digging into your chest as you faced another night with the Ealdorman. He would be here soon, and his sour breath and foul body would claim you again. It was hard enough to sustain the hope that Pero would find you during the days, but at night, after the man they'd forced you to marry was done with your body, it was as if the darkest pit opened up in your mind. There was no hope there, no light, and only one escape. You found yourself praying that Northmere had high towers, or a deep moat. If your mercenary didn't find you soon, there would be no other escape.

The damp was seeping through the thick wool of his cloak as Tovar peered out through the gathering dusk. It had rained a fine mist for two days as he'd waited for Godric outside the small hamlet they had reached after a day's walk. Jorvik was just over the next rise, and before the rain came, he'd seen the square tower of the church at the heart of town. Godric, ever the well of information, had said it was called a 'minster', not a church. Tovar didn't care, he just wanted to rush into town and tear every house apart until he found you, careless as that would be. But he'd tampered his urgency, and sent Godric ahead. If it wasn't for his scar, he would've risked entering York himself. There was very little risk that anyone from Skiringssal or Ulvehi had made it across to York before them, but someone could follow. And he didn't want anyone to remember seeing a brown skinned man with a vicious scar asking questions about the daughter of a Norse Jarl. So he'd stayed behind, seeking shelter in a small copse of trees a short way from the road. An ancient crumbling structure gave him some protection, but his two nights had been unpleasant and cold even though it was early summer. He shivered as he kept watch, staying out of sight.

Godric has set out two days ago, and had agreed to not return until he had information. He was going to ask around for you, claiming to be carrying a message from your father, an urgent message about his health if anyone asked. And now, just as the last light faded, Tovar spotted a cloaked figure hurrying down the paved Roman road that led east from York. But there was someone else, a second man, and Tovar quickly retreated behind one of the trees, his hand closing around the sword at his side.

In the dusk he saw the two men approach, stepping away from the road and walking towards the copse of trees. Both had their hoods up, and slowly Tovar unsheathed his sword, rolling his shoulders.

"Tovar!"

Godric hissed through the trees, a branch snapping under his foot as he tried to find the spot where he'd left Tovar, "Tovar! It's Godric, and I've brought someone who knows you."

Tovar lowered his sword and stepped out from behind the crumbling wall with a low whistle.

"Here, Godric," he said, "And who do I know in York?"

The man was two steps behind Godric as they approached, and he slowly pushed back his hood.

"Asgeir, of Ulvehi," he replied in Norse, and Tovar's sword flew up as he cursed loudly.

"Godric, you fool!"

"Hold, Tovar," Godric said, raising his hands as Tovar glared at Asgeir, "He's told me where your wife is, he knows where they're taking her."

"I can't trust him, he was the one who took her to York. He serves her father. I should kill you right now for what you've done to her," he spat, the last part in Norse at Asgeir, who raised his hands too, holding his palms out.

"I have no right to claim your trust, I know," he said, "But for her, I will tell you what I know, and help if you let me."

"Why?" Tovar asked, taking a step closer to Asgeir, the tip of his sword dangerously close to the other man's chest, "Why would you help a runaway thrall?"

Asgeir's hands dropped as he shook his head with a groan, the old man slumping before them.

"I've served her father since before she was born, I've lived my whole life at Ulvehi, and I owe everything I have to Jarl Agnar. I thought he knew it was the right choice to send her here, to marry this English lord. But now that I've seen the life that she must face...and that man…" Asgeir shook his head again and looked up at Tovar, "I watched her grow up, I remember the young girl she was, and I've seen her forced to marry once already. This life, as Christian wife, is not a life I would want for my own daughters if I had any. I should've left for Ulvehi weeks ago, after the wedding, but I…I couldn't leave her here. May the Gods forgive me for going against my Jarl, but I was trying to find a way to get her back."

Tovar stared at the man, his sword still pointed at the man's chest as he considered what he'd said.

"Where is she now?" he asked after a long pause, his sword arm dropping slightly.

"On her way to a place called Northmere Hall, north of here, and outside of a village called Ripon. They left yesterday."

"Yesterday?" The sword dropped to his side, "How do I find this place? How many guards does it have?"

Asgeir looked relieved as Tovar sheathed his sword and bent to gather his few possessions.

"I don't know exactly, but the old Roman road west goes through Ripon, and Northmere is just on the other side of the village. They can't make the journey in one day, so they must stop overnight, probably at his thegn's hall at Hartham. The man is called Uthred and he was at the wedding, but left to prepare for their arrival a few days ago.

"And guards?" Tovar asked impatiently as he adjusted his cloak and pulled up the hood, leaving the shelter of the trees and walking towards the road into York, Asgeir and Godric following.

"I don't know, but he left Edmund, the envoy, in York to oversee the trade and it seems like most of his men stayed behind. Probably to protect the goods and silver.

"Are we leaving now?" Godric asked, hurrying after Tovar and Asgeir, "We need horses, supplies."

"I can't wait," Tovar replied as he turned down the road at a brisk walk, "I need to catch up to them on the road. I will never be able to get her out of a lord's castle, and she might not be allowed to leave for a long time."

"Godric is right, we need horses," Asgeir said, "I can go into York and get two from the lord's stable, no one will question me if I'm to bring Godric's message from her father to her. I'll meet you at the Ouse crossing beyond the north gate in an hour. Godric can show you how to skirt the outside of town while I get the horses."

Tovar looked over at Asgeir as they picked up their pace, "If you betray me…" he said, but Asgeir held up his hand.

"I've seen your skill with an axe, Tovar. I have no doubt you are even more deadly with your own sword. And I won't ask how you got it back."

Tovar gave a short nod, whether he was satisfied or not was hard to tell. He didn't have much choice but to trust Asgeir. But if the man turned up with half the city guard, he would take down as many as possible, beginning with Asgeir.

The dusk had settled into night by the time Tovar and Godric reached the river crossing just north of York. The city gate was visible only thanks to the torches that glimmered on each side of it. Slipping past the city hadn't been difficult, as the darkness shrouded the small farms and hovels that clustered up against the city walls, the inhabitants had retreated indoors to get out of the drizzle.

Tovar shook out his cloak and stared at the gate, willing Asgeir to hurry up, the hour was almost up judging by the bell of the clock tower, and then glanced at Godric.

"We should say our goodbyes, amigo," he told the Anglo-Saxon, "You've been a good friend, but you are no fighter. If you leave now, you can take shelter without being seen with me, and then head south in the morning."

"Tovar…I want to see you reunited with your wife," Godric said, but he was also glancing out into the pitch black darkness of the road leading away from York with an anxious look.

"Don't try to convince yourself," Tovar said, chuckling despite himself, "A ride through the darkness, speeding to catch up with a lord and his armed guard? That is not something you want to experience."

Godric opened his mouth as if to protest, and then closed it, looking over his shoulder at the dark road again.

"I…"

"Here, take this silver, and go south," Tovar interrupted, "What's the name of your family's place?"

"Merewic, it's a three day ride south."

"Merewic, I will find you there if I can, or send a message."

He pushed part of the silver he'd taken from Thorsten into Godric's hand, grabbing his shoulder with the other, "Go, stay safe. And thank you for everything."'

Chapter 18