Chapter Seven

Ketil could not take his eyes off his ‘slave’ as they shared a communal feast later in the empty hut which had once been occupied by Ulf. It had become something of a tradition to toast the absent warrior, who must be drinking with the gods in Valhalla now. He doubted he would be waited on by as lovely a Valkyrie as this one.

His thoughts turned to Astrid. Sigurd’s little sister was always sobbing over something and agreeing she felt better afterwards. What had she been, fourteen, when they left? Ketil hoped she was safe wherever she was. It was odd how they hadn’t been able to find her, and perhaps just as well given the secret he had kept for so long.

Still, he couldn’t save everyone.

As he watched, Miriam smiled at Magnus and poured him more beer. She seemed to be struggling with the heavy jug. Those hands were meant to stitch tapestries, pluck harps, or arrange flowers not to do heavy peasant work. He wondered how they would feel around his cock and had to check himself. That wa