Harper George - Longing For Her Forbidden Viking

‘My name is Henrik.’ He smiled again.

‘Aye, I know. You’re one of Aevir’s men. Thank you, Henrik.’

The warrior was wide of shoulder with muscular arms, though he was a bit on the thin side, without the filled-out frame Aevir possessed, probably due to his youth. His nose was well formed and his mouth seemed to perpetually curve in a grin. His eyes were blue with specks of brown and perhaps set a smidge too far apart on his face, but he was still handsome. His beard was short and well kept, except it hadn’t filled in well yet. She gave him what she hoped passed for a smile, though she was still too concerned about Elswyth to feel much joy.

A flicker of interest appeared in his eyes, and his chest puffed out the slightest bit. ‘You’ve noticed me.’

She flushed. It was Aevir she had been busy noticing. She had seen Henrik many times sitting with Aevir or on the sparring field at his side. ‘I...I notice all the newcomers—’

He chuckled and said, ‘I’m only teasing you. I shouldn’t when you’re concerned for your sister.’

She nodded, but couldn’t resist her continued study of the man. No other Dane had been so friendly with her. He couldn’t be more than twenty winters. How old was Aevir, for that matter? Much to her consternation, her mind was able to instantly conjure up a perfect image of Aevir...just as it had every night as she lay in bed trying not to think of him. His face spoke of experience and a hint of bitter knowledge, but he wasn’t old. Perhaps twenty and five or so. Did five years make such a difference in a man? In many ways, Henrik was his complete opposite.

Henrik glanced back down at her and she dropped her gaze, lest she give encouragement to him.

‘Aevir has been kind to take me under his command.’

Realising that this might be an excellent opportunity to learn more about the Danes, as well as to keep her thoughts occupied so she didn’t worry constantly about Elswyth, she forced herself to talk to him and found that he was rather pleasant. Unlike some of the rowdier Danes, he seemed mellow and was easy to converse with. He wasn’t arrogant, though he didn’t mind boasting about the occasional battle, and he was quick to ask her questions about her own life. The conversation flowed so smoothly that it was afternoon before she knew it.

The warriors rowed the ship towards the muddy bank until one of the men in front jumped out to splash through the shallow water near the shore. He held a lead line and pulled them until the bottom of the ship jolted across the sandy bottom.

‘We are to take a break,’ Henrik responded to her questioning look. He blushed charmingly as he stood and gently took hold of her elbow to guide her over to the side of the ship. All of the other men seemed to be looking at her strangely. Henrik jumped over the side and took hold of her waist, turning neatly to place her on the shore so that she didn’t get her clothing wet. When she stood mutely wondering at the strange tinge of colour high on his cheeks, the pink turned to red. ‘You can...’ he gestured towards a copse of trees ‘...see to your needs.’

Her eyes widened as she finally understood that this stop was for her. Most of the other men had stayed in the boat. It was her turn to blush when she realised that they wouldn’t need to leave it to relieve themselves. She was probably the sole reason they had stopped. Turning blindly in embarrassment, she hurried to the thicket of trees and made certain that she was well hidden before seeing to her personal needs.

When she was nearly finished, a loud shout interrupted her and made her heart practically leap into her throat. It was a man, but the voice sounded too far away to be from one of the warriors accompanying her. A flurry of activity came from the vicinity of the ship as warriors came to their feet, their boots scraping across the wooden bottom. Ellan hurried to arrange her skirt, her breath coming in short gasps as she braced herself for some sort of attack.

Uncertainty churned in her stomach as she peeked around the tree. A second longship was approaching, coming from upstream, the direction their boat had been heading. This one seemed a bit bigger than the karvi . It was filled with Danes and at least a few Saxon warriors sprinkled in the mix. The man who stood in front was dressed in leathers and chainmail, not the everyday tunics and wool of the men who accompanied her. He was dressed for battle.

He called out again in the Norse tongue and Henrik called back. They spoke some sort of greeting, but there was a sense of urgency in the exchange. The men in the longship had paused in their rowing, but no one made as if they were preparing to disembark. Instead, the leader—a man she recognised as one of Lord Vidar’s trusted men now that they were closer—held his hands cupped around his mouth and called out. Her Norse wasn’t yet conversational, but she understood from the exchange that there had been a battle. Banford had been attacked. There had been casualties. A flurry of back and forth followed, but it was too fast and she couldn’t keep up.

She hurried forward, her feet slipping and sliding down the muddy embankment in her hurry to get to Henrik. He glanced her way in acknowledgment, but was intent on listening to the warrior on the ship. He called out one last time as the men picked up their oars and began to row, obviously in a hurry to get to Alvey. She recognised it as the customary send-off the Danes gave one another. Something about having favourable wind.

‘Please, ask him about Elswyth,’ she urged. ‘Is she hurt?’

Henrik shook his head. Had they known each other better, she had the feeling he would have reached out and touched her shoulder, perhaps even embraced her. Instead, he looked at her with calm and understanding eyes. ‘Your sister is well and uninjured. The casualties were warriors and several Banford men.’

Now that she was assured of Elswyth’s safety, her thoughts turned to Aevir. ‘Casualties?’

He nodded. ‘A handful of warriors were killed and there are several injured.’

Henrik held his shoulders stiffly and there was a strange murmuring going on with the warriors in the ship that she’d been too concerned with Elswyth’s fate to notice a moment ago. It was now that she discerned Henrik’s tight jaw.

‘There’s more. What is it?’ she asked, placing her hand on his forearm.

‘It’s Aevir. He’s been gravely injured.’

‘How injured? What happened to him?’

He shook his head. ‘A gouge on his leg, a head wound, possibly more.’

The world could have tipped out from under her and she wouldn’t have noticed. Aevir’s final words came back to her.

‘I vow to you that I will find your sister. I will bring her home.’

Had she done this? Had he been injured because of his promise to her? What if he didn’t survive? The pain of that thought was too much to contemplate.

To Henrik she said, ‘We have to hurry.’ She needed to see for herself the extent of his injuries.

* * *

The rest of the trip passed in a blur of anxiety for Ellan. Henrik pressed food into her hands, but she didn’t taste it. She kept imagining Aevir lying on the ground, in pain and needing help. Of course he was receiving help from the other Danes and he was probably in better hands than she could provide. Her only experience of nursing was in aiding her siblings through common ailments. The worst injury she had faced was the time she and Elswyth had wrapped Galan’s broken foot. She kept telling herself this, but it did nothing to ease her worry or the incomprehensible feeling that he needed her.

They were forced to stop for a few hours of rest that night. Low clouds had completely obliterated the sliver of the moon, making it too dark to see so that Henrik declared it too unsafe to continue. Ellan bedded down in the bottom of the boat, wrapped in the fur cloak Lady Gwendolyn had loaned her. There was some leftover snow on the ground but, thankfully, it wasn’t actively snowing. Henrik produced another fur from a trunk in the back of the ship and gently draped it over her. She murmured her thanks, but when it did little to make her warm, she began to suspect that the chill she felt came from within.