The Viking's Woman Read Online Free Page A

fought bravely, and in the midst of the carnage Eric thought that it was a pathetic waste of life and limb. There were a few professional fighters here, surely men of the king’s fryd, “carls” who spent their days in his defense.
    But mostly they were simple farmers, freemen, and serfs who fought with picks and hoes and whatever else they could find.
    They died quickly and their blood fed the earth. More and more of the Vikings were mounted. More and more of the men of Wessex lay dead upon the dirt.
    More cries went up. Mounted upon a chestnut horse seized from a fallen man, Eric lifted his sword, Vengeance. He cast his head back and raised thebloodcurdling battle cry of the Royal House of Vestfald.
    Lightning tore across the sky and the rain began.
    Men slipped and slid in the mud, and still the fight went on. Eric urged his mount toward the gates. He knew that Rollo and a horde of others followed him toward the gates. Archers remained above them. Impervious to the flying death, Eric ordered that a ram be dragged from the ships. Despite the arrows that flew and the oil that was cast down upon them, the barriers were quickly breached. The Vikings burst into the fortress town. Hand-to-hand combat followed, and with every moment that passed, victory came to Eric’s men. He shouted in English that the men should lay down their arms. The pillage had begun—one did not bring a host of such raiders across the sea, set them to battle, and not expect that they would demand reward. But his fury had begun to ebb, and the blood lust was leaving his veins. He could not understand why Alfred, known far and wide to be a fierce fighter and a wise king, should have betrayed him so. It made no sense.
    More and more men began to lay down their arms. Many of the buildings were afire. The parapets were falling down, and the fortress town was nearly a ruin of earthworks. Terrified squealing pigs and mewling cattle ran through the debris. Those men still alive were gathered together in a corner of the stockade before the gates that led out to the fields. Eric told Rollo to take charge of them. These men would become his serfs. He spun his mount around as he heard screams, and he knew that his men had come upon the town’s maidens.
    He raced to the center of the earthworks. A group of his men encircled a dark-haired girl who was no more than sixteen years old. Her tunic was torn, and she cried and screamed in a harried panic.
    “Cease!” Eric demanded. He sat upon the great bay and stared down at the scene. His tone was quiet but harsh, and his command was met by silence. When all was still, except for the sobbing girl, he swept his icy gaze around all of them, and then spoke again. “We were betrayed here, but I’ve yet to comprehend why. You’ll not abuse these people, man or maid, for I have claimed them and this place. We will take the riches of the town and divide them to a man. But the livestock will live, and the fields we will keep fertile, for this will be our land upon this Wessex shore.”
    The girl did not understand the Norse he spoke, but she seemed to realize that she had been granted a reprieve. Slipping and sliding in the rain and the mud, tears still stinging her eyes, she ran to him where he remained mounted atop the bay and kissed his booted foot.
    “Nay, girl—”
    He caught her hands impatiently and spoke in English. She looked up at him with dark eyes, and he shook his head again. He beckoned to Hadraic, one of his captains, to come for her.
    Even as the Viking lord obeyed his command there was a whistling in the air. The bay screamed and fell, and Eric realized that an arrow meant for him had caught his mount instead. The horse fell, thrashing and screaming. Swiftly Eric leapt from it and stared about at the buildings, those burning and those stillstanding. A cry of fury went up among his men. A second arrow flew. Pain like fire tore into Eric’s thigh where the arrow struck. He threw back his head and