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

NENA AND JARL rode almost every day, usually in the afternoon after he had dealt with camp business, but occasionally in the morning. Nena lived for those hours. She tried to remain focused on the experience itself and not who provided it, but every day the strain between them became a little less. The time they spent together a little more comfortable, a little easier.

Between the discussions of the men in his tent and the talk of the women in the baths, Nena stayed apprised of everything that went on in the camp. Much of the talk of the men was on future attacks or meeting up with their ships and returning home, while the women’s conversations centered around their personal lives—their hopes and fears for the future. Seldom did the content of the two overlap. That was until the day the upcoming arrival of the slaver was announced. From that moment forward, he was the only subject on anyone’s lips. The men excitedly made preparations and estimated their wealth to be received. The women whose fate hung in the balance repeated every rumor ever told of the merciless trader.

The man dealt not only in slaves; he would convert all assets the Northmen didn’t want or didn’t have room for on their ships into gold and jewels. Slaves were his specialty but he traded for anything. He was expected any day now to get a preliminary assessment of their inventory so he could gather proper payment. Later he would meet them where their ships were anchored for the final exchange. Nena wondered if she would be included in the tally.

Jarl was the only one who seemed ambivalent about the slaver’s arrival. Nena did not understand his attitude until she overheard Jarl and Tryggr discussing their last encounter with the man. Apparently Jarl had insulted him on the previous trip, and Tryggr’d had to work hard to get him to come back. He was the largest slaver in the area—the only one who could afford to acquire the number of slaves they would have to offer at one time.

Tryggr was desperate to make this transaction go smoothly and counseled Jarl repeatedly on the importance of remaining civil. The incongruity of Tyrggr being the more rational one was not lost on Nena. She had never seen Jarl so disagreeable. She wondered what the slaver could have possibly done to so anger him that he would have lost control and insulted the man in the middle of bartering. Jarl was not one to be easily rattled.

With the slaver’s arrival imminent, Tryggr returned to Jarl’s tent to present the final preparations for Jarl’s approval. Nena listened as Tryggr outlined his plans to provide the man with some of their finest wine and food. Jarl agreed to all of Tryggr’s suggestions without much thought—until Tryggr suggested they send Altene for his pleasure for the few days he would be there. Jarl balked.

“Oh, for the sake of the gods, Jarl, what is your problem now? Altene is a whore and a good one. You’ve said yourself, the best, so why on earth not send her to help smooth things over? It’s not like I’m suggesting we send him her,” he thumbed his hand at Nena. “Has she made you soft to all women now?”

“I’ll think about it,” was the only response Jarl would give.

“What do the Teclan do with the slaves they capture?” Jarl asked Nena once Tryggr had left and they sat down to their meal. “Surely you don’t keep them all.”

“We do not take slaves. When we raid we take only things we want, or can use: horses, furs, jewels, weapons. Occasionally we will take a particularly good supply of food if it is something we cannot grow on the mountain.”

Jarl stopped chewing and looked at her to see if she was serious. “But all Dor keep slaves,” he said when he saw that she was.

“Not the Teclan.”

“Why not?”

“Having others do labors for you makes one soft. We feel that softness has been the downfall of many.”

“That may be true, but even if you didn’t keep them, surely you must recognize their value. You could trade them for something you did want.”

“We do not trade either. We will sometimes take a prisoner to ransom if they are from a particularly wealthy or powerful family, and occasionally we’ll take one if they carry some valuable knowledge we seek. But we don’t take them to trade.”

“What information would you consider valuable enough to keep someone?”

“Their language and customs, if they are strange to us.”

“So you had a Northman prisoner?”

“Three of them—at different times.”

“What happened to them? Do they live?”

“No.”

“How did you convince them to teach you? By torture?”

“The first one, yes, but once we were able to learn more of your culture, we offered them what they all wanted most. A good death.”

Jarl leaned back and rubbed his chin. “What do you know of that?”

“I know that your gods reward you for dying with sword in hand by sending you to a better place in your afterlife, Valhalla.”

“So these men, your prisoners, were given a chance to fight?”

She nodded. “Trial by combat.”

“And none won?”

She shook her head.

“Were they fair fights?”

She frowned at him, insulted. “Of course.”

She seemed sincere. He changed the subject. “Surely there is something that you need or want that you cannot always acquire in raids. Is trading forbidden?” Jarl asked.

“Forbidden? No.” She shook her head and thought for a moment. “My father does not trust other tribes to meet with them to barter. Such meetings, wherever they took place, would ultimately make us vulnerable to betrayal. Either out in the open, in their lands, or if we allowed them through our defenses onto the mountain.” She paused. “But it is more than that. My father would be insulted to sit with a lesser man and have him dictate or negotiate terms as an equal. Teclan do not negotiate. We take. Even friendly tribes who