Ragnar the Murderer Read Online Free

take Saehild off somewhere and have their way with her.
    “ You want me to do something?”
    Aelfwyn nodded, her eyes huge with concern, her breasts heaving with unease. He gave a big sigh, stood up and sauntered over to the dancing area. He made his way through the dancers- a very loose description of the swaying, groping, kissing, writhing bodies- until he reached his quarry.
    Taller than both of Saehild’s admirers, he tapped one on the shoulder. Aelfwyn watched, holding her breath.
    The Dane spoke to Ragnar and the exchange quickly became an argument with pushes on the shoulder becoming more and more violent until Ragnar shoved him out of the way and clasped Saehild to him. The Dane fell into a group of people, furious with humiliation.
    While he struggled with various irate dancers, the second Dane took Ragnar on. He pulled at Saehild, who clung to her protector. The Dane began to wrestle with him, which put Ragnar at a disadvantage as he only had one hand free.
    Then, help arrived. Bjarni came wading through the crowd, hauled the Dane off his friend and threw him to the side. Another Dane took exception to this and began fighting the unsteady man and the brawling began.
    Ragnar escorted Saehild away from the scene, Bjarni following. They disappeared from view.
    Aelfwyn surveyed the scene. The ‘dancing floor’ comprised people fighting, couples kissing, some even seemed to be having sex, not caring about anything. The older people still at the food tables were either asleep with their heads down in their food, or arguing with the fervour of the drunk.
    What was it her brother warned her about? Wildness at Danish feasts? She sighed, half with amusement.
    Where had her sister gone? She suddenly realised that she had given Ragnar the perfect opportunity to have his way with her sister. They would have come back by now if he hadn’t. Her heart sank. Her sister had gone from the cauldron to the fire.
    Just then, Ragnar returned. He had a cut lip and obviously bruises on his body somewhere as he walked painfully, but he sat down next to her looking smug.
    “ Where’s my sister?” she hissed.
    “ With Bjarni. I tell him to look after his woman better.”
    “ Thank you,” she faltered. Was he telling the truth?
    “ I need a drink now.” He set off to look for a horn of ale.
    Before she could collect her thoughts, Kjartan sat next to her.
    “ Look at them.” He indicated the mass of bodies in the centre of the hall. “It stinks in here. Let’s go outside.”
    Aelfwyn agreed and stood up with him. Fresh air would be welcome after the claustrophobia of the hall. He ushered her out with a hand on her back.
     
    *  *  *
     
    Outside was indeed fresh. The cold early spring air made her breath cloud in front of her. The clear sky, the full moon made it almost like daylight. The village appeared much like Byrnstanham: huts dotted around, but of course the huge feasting hall dominated it. She could see two other halls nearby and wondered about their function.
    As she walked with Kjartan, she noticed someone in the doorway of a nearby hut. Two people, pressed against the wall, moved together, pushing urgently at each other, groaning. The woman’s skirts were hitched up, one leg round the man’s waist.
    “ Look at the moon,” said Kjartan, directing her away from the amorous couple. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
    She gazed up at it, then he turned her towards him and kissed her on the lips. He pushed her against a hut wall, towering over her, his beard scratching her face. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, to her surprise. She had been kissed by boys before but not as enthusiastically as this. Her mouth stretched open just that bit too much, it felt a little uncomfortable.
    But she had decided to enjoy her last feast before betrothal, so went along with him. She let him kiss her on and on. His hand wandered inside her dress, touching her breast, squeezing it too hard.
    She tried to protest, but he didn’t listen.