Nena by Ann Boelter (red white royal blue txt) 📗

responded without looking at her wrists. “They will hold. I will fix it when you return.”

So he had noticed.

Once he was satisfied that Nena was suitably harnessed again, Jarl left the tent for the latrine, leaving the women alone.

As the previous evening, the women did not address her as they walked through the camp, and Nena used the silence to focus on holding her bladder and taking in every detail of this new route. The direction was opposite of the way they had taken her to the baths the night before, but this side of the camp appeared to be laid out almost identically. Rows of small tents, a fraction of the size of Jarl’s, were pitched side by side, with shared campfires centrally located in the middle of every eight or ten. Men lounged about outside. Jarl’s message of a week of rest had clearly been well received.

Nena studied them. Some sharpened weapons, some cooked, some shaved. Some were already drunk, though it was early morning. Many were shirtless in the heat, and the hair on their exposed chests ranged from thickly matted to sparse, but all of them had it to some extent. Some even had thick hair on their backs, she noted with disgust. The amount of hair on their heads also varied. Some were shaved bald, but many were shaved only on the sides, with the long hair on the tops of their heads held in a ponytail or braid high on the back. Most were tattooed to some degree, but unlike the Dor, the Northmen’s green and black symbols appeared to be random pictures and designs that were spread all over their bodies, even extending to the faces and heads of some.

Altene led the group of women among the men with no apparent concern, and not one of the men made any attempt to address them. Nena tried to look past how repulsive they were and estimate their numbers, but without knowing how many rows of tents were present, it was impossible to tell. One thing she did know. There was no short or easy path back out to the open plains. From what she could see today, what she had seen the night before when they took her to the baths, and the little she’d been able to see when she arrived thrown over the front of his horse, Jarl’s tent seemed to be located dead-center in the camp.

Nena could smell the latrines long before they reached them, but her need overran her disgust. At least they were private—single canvas stalls with a circular hole cut in wood over a shallow dug pit. Or they would have been private had Altene not insisted on two of the other women escorting her inside the small cramped foul space.

When they returned outside, Altene led off, with Nena and the women holding her ropes following behind. Nena hurried her step to catch up but felt the ropes tighten around her neck before she could reach Altene. “Release me,” she called to her.

Altene slowed and turned to face her, but continued walking. “For what? You will not escape here. Unlike the foolish plains tribe you were visiting, this camp is heavily guarded at all times. Rings of their soldiers extend far out into the plains. There has never been a successful escape, and some far more capable than you have tried.”

“You have no idea what I’m capable of, and what do you care? If I’m recaptured maybe he’ll be angry and do as you suggest and keep me with the other prisoners. Or maybe I would be killed in the attempt. In any case you would have your Northman back all to yourself.”

“You will not escape on my watch. I will not risk having Jarl angry with me.” Altene paused. “And I’m not worried; his preoccupation with you will not last. Even though it is acceptable among his people, he will not force you to his furs, and I will not offer again to make you willing for him—that was a mistake on my part,” she admitted with a frown. “And since I do not foresee you going to him willingly, soon enough he will tire of the inconvenience of having you in his tent and probably give you to one of his men. For your sake, after your little escapade with his blade, you’d better hope it’s not Tryggr, though he’s the most logical choice as Jarl’s second.”

“But he said he intends to ransom me to my family.”

Altene smiled. “And I’m sure he will. Though it won’t be right away. Jarl’s no fool. He won’t alert the Teclan to your presence here until he is safely away from your lands and your warriors. And there’s no reason his men cannot have their fill of you until then. Your family will pay without ever knowing of your well-used condition. Or maybe he’ll ask for extra to cover the red-haired giant’s seed sure to be in your belly.” She gave Nena a long sideways glance, satisfied with the horrified expression she saw there. “And if they won’t pay, then you’ll be sold with the other prisoners as slaves once we reach port.”

“What about you? Are you also not a prisoner? Will you not be sold as well?”

“Jarl has other plans for me.”

Nena shook her head. “Why do you do it? Why do you stand for his animal rutting? You may be Klarta but you are still Dor. Where is your pride? Is it because he is a leader? Is it status you seek?”

“Animal rutting? Jarl?” Altene seemed truly confused and her eyes searched Nena’s face for her meaning. “Ah.” She nodded as she understood. “I suppose you would think that after last night, but that was not typical. Well, it was typical for after a battle.” She shrugged. “But only when the battle fever grips him, is Jarl ever hurried in the furs. Any other time he’s the most meticulous man I’ve ever lain with.” She lowered her voice