“That is wise,” Torsten replied.
Erik looked at the sky. “I must allow you to finish your work,” he said. “I will go to see what Einar is doing at his new house.”
Torsten watched him go thoughtfully. Erik was right; Taft should not go unpunished for the destruction of their village and the murder of so many of their people. But would anyone be able to find him?
CHAPTER 3
Tara stumbled as she stepped onto land. One of the men yanked her upright but her legs still felt wobbly after the long boat journey. She wondered if this was the Norowegr place that Red Beard had spoken of, but she did not dare to ask him. She had started to learn some of the finngail language during the voyage and she had gathered that she and the other girls would be prized as slaves and would fetch a good price at the market. She pushed the thought aside, trying hard to breathe steadily even as fear and horror rose, threatening to choke her.
“Come!” Red Beard barked in their language and the girls followed him onto the dock, where two men were waiting for them.
The men came close, looking them over carefully. They felt Tara’s arms and opened her mouth to look at her teeth. Finally, they nodded, satisfied, and handed Red Beard a pile of money. He turned to Tara.
“You will be going with these men,” he told her. “You will become the concubine of a chieftain who wants a woman with red hair. You are fortunate. Good luck.” He turned and walked away, taking the other women with him.
Tara stood staring after them. Even though he was her captor, he had treated them well enough during the journey; Tara gathered that he wanted the girls to be in full health so that they would be more appealing to potential buyers. Now he was gone and with him, the only other people she knew. She was alone in a strange land, unable to speak the language, and destined for a life of slavery, whether or not she was married to a chieftain. Even as a concubine, she would have no choices and she would certainly never have the freedom to return to her homeland. The thought brought tears to her eyes but she determinedly fought them back. There was no way she was going to cry in front of the ruffians who had just bought her.
One of the men stepped up and tied a rope to her wrist. Then he tied the other end around his own wrist.
“Come!” he commanded.
Tara found herself being led to another boat; the men were careful to help her in; she assumed that they wanted her to look perfect for her new owner. Wounds and bruises might harm their chances of selling her.
The boat skirted the coastline and Tara realized what a mountainous place she now lived in. Forbidding rocky peaks towered over peaceful inlets; soaring pinnacles dwarfed tiny villages nestled into the landscape below. From time to time, the boat stopped at settlements along the coast, taking on passengers, goods, and slaves as they made their way north. Several other slave traders boarded with their slaves; most disembarked a short distance up the coast.
Finally, the boat stopped at a village and the men ordered Tara to get out. A woman was waiting at the dock for them. The men spoke to her and she took Tara by the arm.
“Come with me,” she said in Gaelic.
Tara gaped at her in surprise. “You speak my language?” she asked in shock.
“Yes. I am also from your land. I came here a long time ago as a slave and was able to earn my freedom. My name is Meara.”
“Then why do you not return?”
The woman shrugged. “There is nothing to return to. My village was destroyed and my family killed in the raid when I was captured. I am happy enough here. I have a husband who is away much of the time and he provides what I need.”
“Where are we going?” Tara asked as Meara led her towards a row of houses set back from the shore.
“You will spend a few days with me,” Meara said. “I will help you to dress and look like the people of our land. I will teach you some of the common words you should know to be able to converse. Then you will be presented to the chieftain. It is said that he wants a wife with red hair and you certainly have that!” She shook her head at Tara’s wild red mop. “It will take some work to clean you up and make you look presentable. You are one of the lucky ones; most women that come here are taken as bed-slaves and they do not receive the treatment that you will. I was a bed-slave when I first came here.”
Tara shuddered. “That must have been awful,” she said.
The woman got a faraway look in her eyes. “I try not to think about it,” she said. “I was able to buy my freedom after many years but my children remained in my master’s household.”
“How did you buy your freedom?” Tara wanted to know.
“I am good at embroidery and needlework. One of the wives in my master’s house took pity on me and gave me two scraps of cloth, a needle, and some thread. I think she just wanted me to have something to do that made me feel good. But I made something pretty, which I sold at the markets. With the money I earned, I bought more materials and I spent every spare moment working on my needlecraft. Eventually, I had enough money to buy my freedom.”
“And then what happened?” asked
