Time of the Wolf by James Wilde Page B

heard it, the warrior saw.
    Kraki glanced toward the bear and nodded. “There, the sound of your kin calling to you. But brutish strength and a beast’s ferocity and cunning will not keep you alive for long. That rage that burns so hot in you will be your end.”
    Hereward feared that the commander’s words were true. “I will prove my value, with my sword and my axe.”
    The Viking snorted. “Not this day. There is too much bad feeling toward you. Who here would want a wild animal at his side, as likely to attack him as the enemy? If you would be trusted, we must see you have been tamed.” He turned his back on the warrior and walked away. “You will toil with the slaves until I summon you, fetching water and cutting wood for the hearth. Even that work is too good for you.”
    Hereward’s cheeks burned, but he would endure. He had suffered worse, and at least he had found respite from pursuit. It was even possible that Tostig would aid him in his struggle for justice.
    As the huscarls surged out of the gate into Eoferwic, he suppressed his pride and joined the slaves. For most of the morning, he hacked logs from the trees dragged in from the woods to the south. A constant supply of fuel was needed to keep the winter fires burning, and fast though he worked, the woodpile never seemed to grow any larger. The other woodmen eyed him with sullen suspicion, but he kept his head down, allowing the rhythm of his labor to still his troubled thoughts. Only when the sun was at its highest and his arm muscles burned did he wipe the sweat from his brow and go in search of food.
    Gnawing on a hunk of bread, he rested in the lee of the hall, watching the bear prowl its enclosure. The sweet smell of woodsmoke hung in the air, barely masking the choking odors drifting in from the filthy streets. As he looked idly round, a figure moving stealthily through the deep snow caught his eye. Though her cloak was pulled tight, he saw that it was Acha. Something about her cold expression and determined step drew his attention, and his puzzlement turned to unease when he noticed that she was approaching the house where the injured Thangbrand lay.
    With a rush of realization, he threw the bread aside and raced between the huts. He caught up with Acha at the door to Thangbrand’s dwelling and grabbed her wrist as she half turned at the sound of his shoes in the snow. A knife flew from her hand into a drift. Her eyes blazed. With her free hand, she lashed out, raking her nails across his cheek. “Leave me be,” she snarled.
    Hereward dragged her out of sight around the side of the hut and pressed her against the wall until she calmed down. “You planned to kill Thangbrand? Has he not suffered enough?”
    â€œNo. He laid hands upon me … he shamed me … he deserves death.”
    â€œHave you lost your wits? You would not escape punishment. At the least, you would suffer the agonies of an ordeal. At worst, death.”
    â€œHe shamed me!”
    Hereward was struck by the murderous fury in Acha’s eyes. “I cannot allow you to risk your own life—”
    â€œAllow me?” she snapped. “You have no say in what I do. I am no little rabbit, weak and frightened and needing a man to fight my battles. In my homeland, men bowed before me—”
    She caught herself, and in that moment Hereward understood that she had been a woman of some standing before Tostig had taken her prisoner. She looked away, her jaw set.
    â€œHeed me. I know full well the curse of uncontrollable passions. We need no enemies—we destroy ourselves,” he said. “This is a mistake. I will not let you sacrifice yourself to gain revenge.”
    â€œI do not need your protection.”
    â€œYou think I can help myself? I could not turn away and see you or any woman destroyed.”
    â€œThen you are a fool.” She threw off his grip and pushed by him. He felt relieved to see