The warmth of the day was fading fast, and the breeze became chilly. I wrapped myself tightly in the blanket, twisting and turning on the fur. Unable to sleep, I tried to remember the little I knew about slaves and Viking law. It was mostly from rumors, tales from travelers or captives. From what I understood, my owner would have to ensure that I was clothed and fed properly, and received proper care whenever ill or wounded. That might explain what could otherwise be mistaken for kindness: the food and blanket. Other than that, he could do with me as he pleased.

Yet a detail bothered me. I had a feeling that my father had been duped. Even if the pirate married me, I would only be a freed woman, not a free one. Not that I was thrilled at the idea anyway. But there was a difference in status that didn’t exist in Saxon law. Having been this man’s property, I would remain bound to him. Unlike other wives, I would need his permission to divorce, and if granted, would need it again to remarry. For any life decision, I would have to gain his approval. I would belong to him forever.

And in the event of my father buying me back, I would be stained and reputed barren. Shunned from society, I would never find a husband. I would depend on him or my brothers for the rest of my days. My only escape would be a convent.

I mourned the loss of all my dreams, I would never find happiness. Eventually, I cried myself to sleep.

The room was dark. I was tied up at the waist and Lord Einarr was burning my back with a red hot poker. I struggled in vain, unable to scream. The heat was unbearable. He laughed manically:

“This is what you deserve for your behavior. This is how I punish wicked women.”

There were other prisoners around me, though I couldn’t see them. I could only hear their grunts and moans, and the sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh…

I woke up in anguish, sweating and confused. It took me a while to find my bearings. I was on a boat, and I just had a nightmare. A most horrible one.

Yet the sounds from the dream continued. I strained my eyes in the direction they came from, trying to accommodate my sight to the feeble moonlight. Three dark forms lay entwined on the floor at the other side of the tent, moving slowly together, the middle one a lighter frame.

My foggy mind fought to make sense of it, and suddenly it was clear. Magge!

I attempted to stand up, and couldn’t move. I ran my hand down the blanket, looking for the entanglement, and yelped when I found a thick arm instead. The warmth in my back came from a male’s body, which I instantly showed away in fear.

Unsuccessfully. I was pulled in return with a strength I couldn’t match.

“Let me go, your men are raping Magge!”

“There is no rape, I allowed them to use her.”

I nearly choked in anger. Of course he would say that, a slave was only raped if her master didn’t permit it. Her body didn’t belong to her.

“They are hurting her, stop them!”

He snorted.

“She is my property, they won’t harm her.”

Magge screamed and I flinched, fighting his hold.

“She is in pain!”

This time, he chuckled.

“If I needed proof of your innocence, I have it now! This is not what you think.”

I frowned. What was it then?

“My men have pride. They would rather have a woman writhe under them in pleasure than pain. This was her enjoying herself.”

Blessed was the darkness for hiding my embarrassment!

“I didn’t know...”

“You will soon. Do not fret.”

I stiffened.

“Let me go,” I repeated, “I’d like to sleep away from you.”

“You are my bedslave. This is my bed, your place is here. Besides, you were shivering earlier.”

His tone was condescending.

Again, I tried to wiggle away. Again, he held firm.

“Cease moving. I wish to sleep. If you insist on keeping me awake, be prepared to bear the consequences.”

Adding weight to his words, he moved his hand from my stomach to my breast, while something hard pressed against my bottom. I stilled, feeling sick with disgust.

My decision was made. I would never be his. In the morrow, I would kill myself.