Viking

Chapter 1

The church bells rung out and woke Beatrice from her slumber with a start. She heard her father and brother shouting and her mother ran into her room, rousing her from her bed. She was frightened, they were being invaded by the norsemen.
"Dress, quickly Bea, dress." Her mother wrapped her up in warm clothes and a fur shawl, trying her best to keep her daughter warm.
"Come, we must hide." Her father and brother exited the large dwelling and her mother bundled her into the wardrobe.
"Be quiet." She nodded and the doors were shut, leaving her in total darkness. She could hear shouting, a strange language, the language of the norse, outside. She heard screaming and then, the door to her home was forced open.
"This is the village lords house. It will suit you nicely, it is the grandest. He, his wife, his son and his ravishing daughter live here." She sat, quiet, almost holding her breathe as they spoke of her.
"Daughter?" He had a thick deep voice, with a heavy accent weaved into it. She gripped her knees tightly to her chest, rocking back of forth.
"Yes, she is quiet the beauty. Soft pale skin, long golden hair, large breasts, a small tight body. Gods, if we can find her, may I have her for myself?" She nearly lost the contents of her stomach as she heard her fathers closest ally betray her and her family.
"No you may not. Find the women, they cannot have gotten far." She heard as the men spread out and searched the rooms for the women. She heard her mother shout out loud, screaming her name.
"Run!" She burst from the wardrobe and tried to escape down the servants stairs but she was caught quickly by two very large norsemen. Her mother screamed out in anguish as they dragged her struggling daughter into the room.
"Bring the girl before the Jarl." She fought furiously as she was dragged and dumped unceremoniously at the feet of the norse jarl. He reached down and tilted her chin, looking at her. Her features were undeniably beautiful. Her face symmetrical, soft pale pink flushed skin, sapphire eyes, full rosy lips, thick tendrils of golden hair cascading down her breasts. Her breasts, he almost growled when he saw the way they nearly popped out of her nightdress.
"Robert, this girl, she is mine, you may not have her." He nodded in acknowledgement and the Jarl watched her, struggling, making little noises, she was scared. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Take the girl back to her bed, confine her there, make sure she is fed and watered. I have things I must attend to..." He pulled the leather from around his neck, it held his mothers wedding ring. It had been his grandmothers and then her grandmothers before her. He placed it over her head, she did not of course understand the symbolism of this gesture, the norse clearly did as they were all shocked.
"I will return for you soon." With that he exited the room, the house and walked toward his men taking control of the small town. He would have it for himself, for his clan. The land they grew on, it had become barren, they needed fertile land to grow on. To live on.

She did not understand him, she was scared half to death and tears flowed freely from her eyes as she was forced back to her bed chambers. They closed the door behind them and she sat on the bed, crying into her palms. She just cried, she could not hear her mother, her father or her brother anywhere else in her home. Well, it was not her home anymore. The norse had taken control of it, she was a prisoner. She somehow, through some strange force, could not help but play with the smooth cold metal and stones on the leather around her neck. She lay down on the bed and climbed under the thick woollen blankets that kept her warm throughout the bitterly cold winter months. Her grandmother had knitted them for her before she had passed on. They were a soft cream colour and she had several of them, all of knitted with her grandmothers love. They made her feel safe, protected, like the spirit of her grandmother was with her, through them.

She wrapped herself up tight, as though they were a shield, protecting her from the harsh world she was being thrust into. She cried softly, tears streaming down her cheeks and moistening the pillows under her head. She cried until she could cry no more and she just shook, trembling, very afraid of what her future may hold. She knew she was in a grave situation and she held her blankets close.

The two men posted outside listened, to ensure she was not able to escape from the room. They heard her cries and ignored them, she would need to toughen up if she was to be the jarls bride. Not that she knew that was what he had sought out to do. From the moment they saw the jarl lay eyes on the girl, they saw his look, the way he watched her, took in every inch of her small frame. They had seen the look before. She would be their Jarls new bride, would give birth to the next Jarl. She would consolidate his position as jarl, an exotic foreign beauty who somehow looked close to home. Pale skin, pale yellow hair, light blue eyes. She was in most eyes a girl who was born to be norse.
"Still sobbing?" Heads were shaken as the men changed guard duties.
"It sounds as though she may finally be sleeping. Try not to wake her. If she looks tired and weak, the jarl will have our heads." The two men left the girl in the charge of the others, entrusting them with her safety. The jarl may not have their heads for her being tired, he would have more then just her heads if anything happened to her. He would have their heads and their bollocks and that would be him being kind to some of his men. He could be cold when it was required of him. His men knew that all too well.

He approached the lord of the town and his eldest, a son, and looked at their bloodied faces. They had valliantly fought, but they fell, they all fell in the end, their forces were no match for the vast hird that Jarl Erikir was in charge of.
"Where is my wife? My daughter?! What have you bastards done with them?!" Andrew, the lord, was struck across the face and he coughed, spitting blood onto the ground, like a true warrior.
"Your wife is safe, for now and your daughter, well your daughter is a different story. Your daughter is mine to do with as I please." All the colour drained from his face and he let out what sounded like a loud cry.
"Not my daughter, please do not hurt her. Please, no." Erikir croutched in front of Andrew and chuckled, shaking his head.
"I am not going to hurt your daughter Andrew, she is mine though. I am going to marry your daughter. She will be my wife. She will warm my bed, the bed you used to share with your wife." His lips twitched up into a smirk as he was so angry, so incredibly angry.
"You will never marry my daughter! I will never allow it!" He stood up again and looked at the four men in the room.
"Let them stew for a little while, put them in the Fengsel." With that, he turned and walked away, ignoring the old mans shouts and yells. He did not pay them any mind. He walked to the next man and passed judgement on all the towns men.