The Pagan's Prize by Miriam Minger Page B

trail of water as he strode to the bedchamber.
    "By Thor, what's happened?"
    "I'll explain later. Kjell and Leif are waiting
outside with the horses. Now go!"
    "Horses? What of the ship?"
    Ignoring him, Rurik pushed open the door to the
bedchamber to find the room in darkness. Cursing the unlit lamp, he went to the
bed and gathered his captive in his arms. Unable to see her face, he felt her
slender body tense. She tried to say something to him, but her words were
muffled by the gag.
    "Easy, wench, it's me," he said to reassure
her, although he imagined that she was less than thrilled to find herself in his
embrace. Carrying her into the other room, he was glad to see that Arne had
already gone outside. He unceremoniously set the woman down, and severed the
rope binding her wrists and ankles.
    "The arrangements have been made," he lied,
sheathing the weapon as she gasped. He swept her again into his arms. "The
ransom has been delivered. We're taking you to where your Lord Ivan will find
you."
    Rurik could feel her staring at him in astonishment,
but he did not meet her eyes as he moved to the open doorway. After glancing up
and down the deserted alley, he carried her outside into the pouring rain and
handed her to Leif, who was waiting beside a restless roan stallion.
    "Lift her up," he commanded after mounting,
having already instructed his warrior to do so in such a manner that the woman
was seated facing him, a leg on each side and her bottom between his thighs. "Wrap
your arms and legs around me," he told her gruffly, not surprised when she
didn't respond. Meeting her wide confused gaze, he grated, "Do you want to
see your Lord Ivan or not?"
    Immediately she hugged his torso and her legs wound
tightly around his hips, crossing at the ankles. Pushing her head down low
against his left shoulder, he signaled to Kjell, who threw him a large sodden
blanket with a ragged hole cut from the middle.
    Settling it over his head, Rurik was pleased to see
that the woman was completely covered beneath the blanket's voluminous folds.
Next came a dripping wet fur mantle over his shoulders that when pulled around
to the front further hid the woman from view. Nestled as she was so snugly
against him, he only hoped that she could breathe.
    "Keep very still," he ordered, bracing his
upper arms around her. "Whatever you do, don't raise your head. I promise
you, wench, if you thwart me now, you will pay!" With that, he kicked his
mount and they set off, his men silent and riding close behind him.
    They soon reached a gate leading west out of the city,
and Rurik was relieved to see that the driving rain had chased many of the
guards indoors, only a half dozen remaining. Still, if something went wrong
now, they would have to fight their way out of Chernigov.
    "Remember, wench," he warned in a low, harsh
voice. "Keep still and silent or you will not see Lord Ivan again."
    "Hold!" came a command from the leader of the
guards.
    Rurik reined in his horse some ten feet from the gate,
his men following his example. Slipping the four-day pass from beneath the edge
of the saddle, he held it out to the drenched man who squinted to better see
him in the stinging rain.
    "We've finished our trading," he informed the
leader as the pass was snatched from his hand. Suddenly a huge thunderclap rent
the air, and Rurik winced inwardly when the woman jerked against him. Quickly
twisting in the saddle to camouflage her movement, he gestured with a nod to
his three stone-faced men. "You see, we have nothing left and in only one
morning at the market. Our furs have been sold."
    "Where are you bound?" the leader demanded,
eyeing them suspiciously yet stamping his muddy feet as if eager to escape the
storm.
    "South to Kiev, to fetch more furs. The trading
here is the best I've ever seen."
    "Move on with you, then, you're blocking the way!"
announced the leader, obviously noticing no more than Rurik had wanted him to
see . . . four empty-handed, rain-soaked merchants