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

we have marriage alliances with, we do not trust. We do not raid them, but they are not our equals.”

“I’ve never known a people who did not always want more—more jewels, more horses, more something.”

“A man can only ride so many horses, Jarl, but he must feed them all. And you can only wear so many jewels. Gold and gems never spoil or die. Every jewel that has ever been taken by a Teclan warrior, since the beginning of time, remains with the Teclan. Most are passed down from mothers to their daughters.”

“So do you have your own stockpile of jewels?” he asked with a smile, still not fully believing her.

“Of course. My mother was the daughter of a chief and then wife to a chief, so mine may be even larger than most,” she said matter-of-factly.

“And do you have so many that you keep them in a chest like that?” He nodded to the chest on the table behind him where he kept the jewels from their raids.

Nena looked at it, gauging its size, then shrugged. “Something similar, but much larger.”

Jarl set down his fork and leaned back in his chair, sure now that she was having sport with him. “And all Teclan women have such a collection,” he reaffirmed.

She nodded.

“So all a man would have to do is take the Teclan stronghold, and he would be wealthy beyond his wildest imagination.”

Now it was Nena’s turn to smile. “Yes, that is all a man would have to do.” Her smile grew larger at the thought.

“I’ve heard that it’s well fortified, but for that kind of wealth, surely it is possible,” Jarl said.

“Surely it is not,” Nena disagreed. “Since the Teclan have been on the mountain, as far back as even the oldest stories can recall, never has a foreign force been successful in taking the mountain. Never. And many have tried.”

“Hnf,” Jarl grunted.

“My family could afford a great ransom for my return,” she said, suddenly serious. He had not mentioned it again since she had first been captured.

He looked deep into her eyes while he considered her offer.

“I think I now understand your people’s position on trade, and in this I must agree with you. When you already have what you want, there is no reason to barter for even a large quantity of something else—even something of great value. Especially if what you have is irreplaceable. I already have what I want. And it is not a ransom.”

THE SLAVER’S CARAVAN set up camp on the northern edge of the Northmen’s tents, and from what Nena heard, it was quite a spectacle. Her rides had been curtailed until the business with him was over, so she had yet to lay eyes on it, but the other women said the slaver’s tent was as red as the reddest sun before it sank in the west. And they said he dressed himself in silks and jewels finer than any woman. The women who bathed her were all more talkative than usual—with the sudden unexpected absence of Altene.

She’d been sent to please the slaver.

Nena shivered in the warm water. What was Altene experiencing in that very moment? What was she having to do? How could she do it? Where did her spirit go when it was happening? Did she have a warrior’s soothing place? And while she did it, did she smile and moan and pretend to want him as she did Jarl? For all of Altene’s bravado, Nena knew she cared deeply for Jarl. A feeling that, while he was affectionate toward her, Jarl did not return. And to be given by the man she cared for to service another? And not just another—a slaver?

For the first time, Nena truly felt sorry for Altene. She was nothing more than an animal to these Northmen, and while Jarl may have been kind to her, he was no different. Nena knew she had to remember that. In the face of his kind words and acts, she had to keep her feelings hardened toward him. If she did not escape, that could very well be her one day. Jarl pretended to care about her now, and maybe he even did, but had he felt the same once for Altene?

Nena had thought her only two possible futures were to escape or to be loaded onto a ship and taken to the frigid North. Now she realized there might very well be a third option. This slave trader dealt in all goods, and, if he was smart, he would surely recognize her value to her family. Perhaps he would help her to escape—for his own substantial reward, of course. Nena couldn’t wait to see him. Couldn’t wait to see if he was from a tribe who was friendly, or would want to be friendly with the Teclan. To slip him a message to negotiate ransom with her father or brother. But wait she did. It was two days before he was presented at Jarl’s tent. Two days while he took preliminary inventory of the other items. Two days that Altene remained absent.

When the guards outside the tent announced his presence, Nena saw Jarl scowl. Tryggr looked up from filling two polished silver chalices with some of their finest wine and saw it, too. “For the gods’ sakes, Jarl,” he whispered, “if you can’t be nice to him, at least try not to look like he is some animal scat you just scraped off your boot. You may be the greatest at acquiring treasure, but you’re the worst at bartering it.”

“But he does remind me of something I stepped in,” Jarl replied.

“I know. He’s disgusting,” Tryggr agreed. “There’s no doubt about that, but he’ll be bringing us chests of gold in a few weeks. I choose to focus on that, and you should, too. Everything is set here; there’s food and wine, and I’ve already shown him everything outside: the slaves, the extra horses, the weapons. All you have to do is work