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

deny it though, Jarl. I felt it, too. That woman has done something to you, and I don’t understand it—from all accounts you haven’t even fucked her yet.”

Jarl’s jaw tensed. Tryggr didn’t see it but Gunnar did.

“Pay him no mind, Jarl. Tryggr knows naught of what he speaks. He and most of the other men here only know women with their cocks, but I, too, have had a woman in my blood before, and there is no experience to match it. No victory, no treasure, nothing else compares.”

“I didn’t know that of you, Gunnar,” Jarl said.

“Obviously it wasn’t the same,” Tryggr interrupted. “Because Gunnar can survive without his woman; his presence here alone is a testament to that. So where is this fine woman, Gunnar?” he asked.

“She’s dead, Tryggr, or I assure you, I would, in fact, not be here. She was killed by the Germanian chieftain, Ulther von Glossen, when I was away raiding to the west. They attacked our village, killed many, and captured others. My wife was among the dead when I returned.” Gunnar’s eyes were far away.

“Apologies. We have fought many battles together, but I never knew,” Jarl said.

“Did you kill the bastard?” Tryggr asked.

“I killed all who called him family or friend, but sadly, no—Ulther escaped my sword. By the time I found him, he was already dead. They said he died slowly from an infected wound he received attacking our village. I like to think it was my Brigitta who wielded his deathblow, but I could never know. She was willful and strong. Much like your woman, I suppose.” He nodded at Jarl.

“How did you meet her?” Jarl asked.

“I captured her on a raid in the Baltic.” Gunnar’s eyes were soft with remembrance. “I had never seen anything like her—red hair, similar to Tryggr’s, but much darker, like the color of a spring sable.”

“And did you take her home and baby-coddle her for months, like Jarl here, or did you get the job done in the heat of her burning village?” Tryggr asked.

“Neither. We’d taken her village by surprise and had grabbed great spoils, but they were regrouping. I was not about to risk losing her back to them, so we retreated to the boats and returned home as quickly as we could.”

“And then?” Tryggr prodded.

“Yes, Tryggr. I was young and did not wait. I was like you then, and only knew women for the physical pleasure they could provide me. Though I had to do much to make up for that later.”

“In the end, she forgave you?” Jarl asked.

“Yes. We were married. I can only pray that one day the gods will so bless me again. To feel a woman in my blood, in my heart, as if we are one. Perhaps that’s why I’m always so active in sampling. Leave no stone unturned.” Gunnar grinned at that and raised his mug, his brief moment of melancholy passed and the roguish lieutenant returned. “I used to be sure it was not possible, but now?” He turned to Jarl. “After seeing you, of all men, so smitten with your she-wolf. Now I am hopeful again.”

“Is that why you joined us years ago? Is that when she was killed?” Jarl often wondered what motivated men to risk their lives. For some, it was the obvious wealth, others the glory, but for still others, like Gunnar, there was more to it—a yearning for the battle itself. This explained a lot.

“The first trip, yes.” Gunnar answered. “No one expected you to return—assumed you would die at the hands of savages. In those days, I sought to die a good warrior’s death, to be reunited with Brigitta in Valhalla as quickly as possible. The agony I endured every day after learning of her death was like a living thing, eating me from the inside. Finding Ulther dead and killing his brethren did nothing to slake its appetite. So when the opportunity arose, I joined your crew—to quiet the thing inside once and for all.” He paused. “But somehow we survived. The second trip was for more gold, and this third…I have come to know nothing else,” he admitted.

“And the thing within? Does it finally sleep?” Jarl asked.

“It’s quiet most days. When it does awaken, it is more of a gnawing now. But I do have to agree with Tryggr and the others on one thing. A battle camp is no place for a woman. It is dangerous for her, and for you, and any men who follow you, if you allow yourself to be distracted.”

Jarl thought about how he had chafed to stop here tonight and share a drink with his men, an act that would have been commonplace before. Had Nena changed him? Was he distracted?

“On the other hand,” Gunnar continued. “With my own experience, I cannot, in good conscience, tell you to leave her somewhere safe. There is nowhere safer than by your side, so I have no answer for you.”

“Perhaps you think I should retire? Maybe you could be the next leader?” Jarl asked.

“Me?” Gunnar laughed. “No, thank you. I’m very happy with the way things are right now. I have plenty of authority and very little of the responsibility. Never have my coffers been so swelled or my fighting so successful. The gods favor you, and thus they are favoring me. Gratitude for the consideration, but I like things just the way they are.

“Speaking of retiring though, there are more than a few men who will not be returning with us to the North. They have taken women and plan to settle here on the northeast coast of the Caspian. Their thoughts are toward building a trading community. A link between the far far East and Constantinople—and also a place for future Norse voyagers to rest, resupply, and trade for goods at a fair price. I think it an ambitious undertaking for a few, but I cannot fault them. If they succeed, it will be a good life. If I could better tolerate the