concubine.’
A thin smile appeared on Guthrun’s lips. ‘Thank you. Until you marry, I will continue to look after the house as I have always done.’
‘Until the ransom arrives for all the captives, they will work for their shelter and food.’ Haakon kept his voice smooth.
‘And you have no fear of their god?’ Guthrun turned her head to the side. ‘He is said to possess a powerful magic.’
‘If their god had not intended them to be here, he would have protected them.’ Haakon turned towards the group and began to address them in Latin. ‘Your God has seen fit to deliver you to the Norse. Worship whom you please. It is of little interest to me. I shall ask your pope in Rome for ransom. Obey my stepmother, Guthrun, and stewards as you would me.’
The monks were led away, leaving Annis standing alone. The sea breeze whipped her hair back from her face and moulded her gown to her form. Her steady gaze challenged Haakon.
‘It is intriguing that a mere woman acts in this way,’ Guthrun said. ‘Maybe she is, in truth, your concubine. No captive will dictate how my house is run, however high born she is. She has a fierce air about her. I have no wish for her to intimidate my maids. How do I know what these people are like?’
Haakon frowned. Was this a ploy by Guthrun or was she truly afraid? He knew what Annis was capable of. He remembered his first sighting of her with her hair flowing down her back and the intent expression on her face as she had come to his aid without fear for her own life.
‘She will not harm you, Stepmother. I give you my word on it.’ He turned towards Annis. ‘My stepmother seeks reassurance that you will not harm her.’
‘Harm her?’ Annis held out her hands and her eyes widened. ‘Why should I do that? Where would I go? My home is on the other side of the water. I have no weapons.’
‘You agree to conduct yourself. Or will you speak sweet promises that mean nothing again?’
He stared at her until she dropped her eyes, looking away, admitting defeat.
‘While I am here, I will abide by your rules.’ Her voice choked and she paused, closed her eyes tightly before continuing. ‘What choice do I have? You are the master here. I will give no trouble on my honour as a Northumbrian.’
‘You are right—you have no choice.’ He turned to Guthrun, whose smile had become increasingly fixed through out the exchange. ‘You will have no problems. She has given her word as a woman of noble birth.’
‘Thank you, Haakon.’ Guthrun inclined her head. ‘I will see my son now. He needs his mother and her counsel.’
‘He unloads the cargo. When he has finished his task, he will find you. Settle Annis in with the women. She can do some light work while she is here, waiting for the ransom.’
‘When the woman is housed, I expect to see my son.’
Annis’s brows had drawn together and Haakon wondered how much Norse she understood. Her bottom lip stuck out, looking like the colour of ripe strawberries, and he wondered what it would taste like. Would it hold a faintly salty tang from the sea water or would it be as sweet as the last time they kissed? Heat coursed through him.
Annoyed, he damped down the thoughts. Now was not the time. He had no intention of bedding her. It would complicate matters. He had a rule of not bringing his mistresses into the house. Instead, he played at Thorkell’s court or when he was away in another country. A night or two of passion, then the thrill of the chase wore away.
And what would it be like with Annis? He refused to bend his rule to find out.
‘Guthrun will give you orders.’ The words came out harshly. ‘Obey her or you will have to deal with me.’
‘In everything?’ She tilted her head to one side as if puzzled.
‘Until I decide otherwise.’
Annis ground her teeth as she followed Haakon’s stepmother into the long, low wooden building. It would have been easier if she had been put in a dungeon, treated as if she were a captive rather than a slave. There she could have devised ways to escape. Here, she was surrounded by everyday objects, reminded that the chances her stepfather would send the ransom were slim.
The primitiveness of the house and hall shocked her. In Birdoswald, they lived in stone buildings, so old that it was said that the Roman Legion built them. There, the hearth was at one of end of the room, rather than in the middle as it was here. And they had separate living quarters, not simply raised areas on the edge of the hall.
‘Too fine.’ Guthrun leant forward and rubbed the wool of Annis’s dress. ‘You work here.’
To Annis’s surprise, she found Guthrun’s words relatively easy to understand. It was a bit like hearing Northumbrian spoken with a very bad accent.
‘Work holds no fear. Nothing could hold fear after what I have endured.’
Guthrun raised her eyebrows. She clapped her hands and gave orders to a plump, well-endowed blonde with tiny, piglike eyes who wore an ingratiating smile. ‘Tove, see to her. My son awaits.’
She said some rapid words to Tove, who gave a smirking smile and an exaggerated curtsy. Guthrun then departed, leaving Annis alone with the maidservant. Instantly the woman’s countenance changed, becoming craftier, and a good deal less fawning.
Tove went to a chest, unlocked it and pulled a plain linen tunic and apron-dress out. She shoved them into Annis’s hands. ‘Change.’
A lump formed in Annis’s throat. She had always had help dressing and undressing. No longer. She looked about for a screen to change behind, but there was nothing. Her fingers fumbled with the catch on Haakon’s brooch, and Tove made a clicking noise in the back of her throat. She came over, undid the brooch with impatient fingers and nearly snatched the cloak off Annis’s shoulders.
Tove clicked her fingers. ‘The rest. And no head covering. You are a captive.’
The silver cross tumbled to the floor, and Tove bent to retrieve it.
‘Not yours any more,’ she said and put it on top of the cloak.
Annis’s hand reached out for the cross, quick words sprung to her lips, but then she saw the carved wooden animals on the chest. This was not home. She cursed her bad luck, and forced her hand back down by her side.
Tove slammed the lid down, locked it with a click and pocketed the key. The cross had gone. Annis stared at the carved chest. She no longer had anything to remind herself of home, except for her memories.
Annis shivered slightly. But she rapidly changed the rest of her clothes. The linen scratched against her skin.
Tove led the way to the small kitchen area where a fire burnt in the middle of the room. A kettle filled with soup bubbled on the fire, and several maids were engaged in kneading bread. Two of the largest cats she had ever seen lounged in front of the fire, looking far more like dogs or half-tamed mountain cats. Rather than being chased away as they would be back home, the serving girls seemed to welcome the cats, pausing to give them strokes as they went about their business. Three other women were busy with spinning and weaving. Tove called out and several of the women snickered.
Tove gave Annis’s shoulder a shove and pointed to a sack of barley and then to the large quern and mimicked grinding barley. Annis’s heart sank. She had never had to do such a thing before—such things were done by the meanest servants. Annis clenched her teeth. She took a handful from the sack and placed it on the grinding stone.
After several passes with the stone, Annis saw the grain turn into a coarse flour. This wasn’t as hard as she first feared. She gave a triumphant smile and placed the stone down.
Tove said something else. The entire room burst out laughing. Tove pointed to the sack. Annis’s mouth dropped open. She was expected to grind the entire sack.
She put in some