The man stepped forward to claim the token for the woman’s purchase and Erik gasped aloud as he came into view. It was Taft! Older for sure, with more lines on his face, but there was no doubt it was Taft. He glanced towards Erik but there was no recognition in his eyes and he looked away again.
Erik realized that he’d been but a youth the last time Taft had seen him. Since then, he’d grown a beard and become taller and stronger; it was no wonder that Taft hadn’t recognized him. He felt sick to his stomach as he thought about the beautiful young woman going to live with the man who had callously destroyed their village and killed his parents. Anger boiled through his veins; Taft was the cruelest, most vile person Erik had ever met and now he would own the only slave Erik had ever cared about. It was a staggering blow.
But Erik was not about to give up. He realized the prudence of staying out of sight for now; he was alone and Taft may well have armed men or plentiful allies surrounding him. It would be foolish to attempt to detain him or bring him to justice here. Erik quickly hatched a plan; he would blend in with the crowd and follow Taft to glean what information he could. Then he would decide what his next step should be.
CHAPTER 6
Feeling satisfied with himself, Taft left the slave auction and turned to go back to the booth where his wife was selling their goods. Breaking free of the past was the best thing he’d ever done, he mused as he made his way through the crowded rows of the marketplace. He’d established himself in a new location and had done well at trading and farming. With hard work and shrewd business dealings, he had built up his wealth and could afford to buy more slaves to add to the three he already owned. And now, he had been able to afford to buy a bed-slave, the first one he’d been able to own. He licked his lips as he thought about the beautiful young woman who would soon be joining his household. She had gone for a steep price but he liked the look of her and had been willing to pay it. He’d left her in the slave quarters until they’d finished their business at the markets. He would collect her the following day, after they were ready to leave. They had sold almost all of the goods they had brought with them and there was no point lingering.
He felt secure enough now to freely visit the markets; once upon a time, he had feared retribution for the destruction of Myrkvior Fjall, but time had passed and no one had taken revenge. He guessed that he was living far enough away from any survivors that it was unlikely anyone would find him. Not that there would have been many survivors; his men had done a good job of completely destroying the village. Anyone left alive would soon have perished from their injuries or from cold and hunger. He had no regrets; he’d had a score to settle with Halvar and destroying his enemy’s village had felt satisfying, even if he didn’t find Halvar himself. The thought of Kaarina’s treachery still rankled; he should have been able to find her and punish her for leaving him and returning to Myrkvior Fjall.
But as time passed and he threw himself into creating a new life, he began to think that it was better to start afresh. Anyone who had been part of the past should stay there. Including his daughter.
“You are in fine spirits,” Gunilla said sourly as he arrived at their booth.
“I have bought more slaves,” he said proudly. “We will be able to acquire greater wealth through their labor.”
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Did you buy a bed-slave?” she asked with menace in her tone.
Taft decided that he might as well get the truth over and done with. After all, the woman would soon be part of the household. “I did,” he answered candidly.
Gunilla’s features contorted with rage. “You bacraut!” she screeched.
Leaping from her place beside the booth, she launched herself at him, fingers curled into claws. He tried to evade her attack but he was too slow; her fingernails raked the side of his face, leaving bloody scratches.
“Bikkja!” he spat, and slapped her hard across the face.
She screamed and swore again, attracting a crowd who liked nothing better than to watch a fight, but Taft was ready for her this time. He grabbed her wrists and held them tightly so that she couldn’t attack him again. She was left with nothing but her mouth, which she used to pour forth a torrent of foul-mouthed abuse. The crowd shrieked and yelled in delight when she managed to kick Taft and he responded by kicking her in return.
Erik stood watching the fight in amazement. He had seen plenty of arguments between husbands and wives but this wife was one of the angriest he’d ever seen. He’d heard Taft announce that he had bought a bed-slave, as Erik had feared. The red-haired woman would be Taft’s plaything, to be used and abused however he pleased. The thought made Erik feel sick to his stomach. Somehow, he had to stop it from happening.
The fight ended when Taft grabbed his wife by the hair and dragged her back to the booth.
