Nena by Ann Boelter (digital book reader txt) 📕

its war counterpart. Nena glanced enviously again at the young women thrashing the fleece. They were sweating and exerting—and getting to pound something. She longed for a physical release. Every day the Northman camp remained outside the gates, the tension only built inside her. Every day she remained bound to this hated loom allowed no escape from her painful reveries. It had been hard enough to keep Jarl from her mind before, but now with Northmen being the only thing anyone talked about, it was impossible. It may have been easier, had she been able to choose Gentok as she had planned, but with the arrival of the Northmen outside the gates, he had yet to return.

Perhaps tonight she would take the mare for a long ride. She imagined herself galloping down a moonlit trail, far from the cliff gates where she might catch a glimpse of him—because she was sure now, it was Jarl who was there. Had it only been trackers who needed to rest, they would have left already.

So why didn’t he go? Why did he linger? What did he hope to gain? He had to know by now he could not make it through their defenses—and that he was in danger. The Northmen force was small and in an indefensible position. Even a poor strategist could see that, and Jarl was a master. The longer he remained camped there, the greater the chance Lothor would win over her father—or worse, disobey him.

But Nena knew her desire for Jarl to leave was not based solely on fear for his safety. She needed him to leave and take her doubts with him. Doubts about her decision. Doubts about her future. Once she had returned home, all was to have been clear and right—as it was before, but that hadn’t happened. Jarl needed to go to put an end to the inner turmoil and constant seesaw of her thoughts and emotions. So why did he not?

Her thoughts wandered down a new path. Did the memories of their time together choke Jarl’s spirit as they threatened to choke hers? In many ways the idea appealed to her. It validated and almost excused her own embarrassing unacceptable feelings. It meant she wasn’t weak. Jarl was strong enough to fight the gods, and yet he, too, was possibly having difficulty fighting this. The longer he stayed the stronger his feelings must be.

Or was there another explanation? A dark terrible explanation. Something she had never allowed herself to consider before—something that filled her with a deep uneasiness as she considered it now. What if Jarl had truly been the gods’ choice for her? What if she had denied them and was being punished? It would explain the discontent she felt with her life and her future. What if he had come now and still remained because the gods had sent him for her? The idea was ridiculous of course, but what if....

“Some women were just not meant to weave,” Jalla’s resigned voice startled her from her thoughts. “I thought it would come naturally to you, because of your mother...” Her voice trailed off as she stood frowning at Nena’s haphazardly loose excuse for a carpet. “But clearly it does not. You should not waste any more time here. Your calling clearly lies somewhere else.”

“A large force is coming from the northeast, sir,” the breathless scout announced as he burst into Jarl’s fire ring area.

“The northeast?” Jarl asked as he stood. The Teclan cliffs were due west. “How many?”

“I don’t know for sure. Many. Their dust extends for miles.”

“Dust—so they’re traveling fast.” Jarl thought out loud. Was this some trick of Meln’s to try to take them unaware? Would he assume their focus was on the gates and they would leave their flank unguarded? But why would he go to the trouble to send a large force whose movement would alert them? Jarl’s men were few. If Meln wanted to kill them in a sneak attack from the opposite direction, he would not need to bring so many. But if not Meln, then who? Jarl knew of no other force of size in the area.

“Eskil went closer to see if he could identify them,” the scout continued. “He shouldn’t be long behind me. We split up, and I came straight here. We thought you’d want to know right away.”

“Good work,” Jarl acknowledged.

Jarl didn’t wait for the second scout to return before giving the command to douse the fires and ready the camp’s defenses as best they could. Maybe it was an army on its way somewhere else and would pass unnoticed. With the Bloodcliffs and Teclan warriors at his back, there was no retreat to the west. Until he knew who they were, he wasn’t about to run further south. He had to see for himself. Jarl grabbed his scope and went to saddle his stallion. Tryggr soon joined him, and the the two men mounted and headed northeast toward the plains.

“What the hell?” Jarl swore as he lowered the scope from his eye.

“What is it? Whose banners are they?” Tryggr asked.

“They’re ours,” Jarl muttered.

“Ours?” Tryggr asked bewildered. “How?”

“We’re about to find out.” Jarl kicked his stallion into a gallop.

As Jarl and Tryggr descended from the hillside, Gunnar’s sorrel broke away from the front of the long line of dusty troops to meet them. His blond hair was unmistakable.

“We’re not too late, are we?” Gunnar called out to them. “Haven’t missed the battle yet, I hope?” His voice was cheerful, but the weariness of a long double-time march was evident on his face as he rode closer.

“What are you doing here?” Jarl asked. “I gave orders for you to proceed to the port. Did you not get the message?”

“Yes, I got it, but I focused more on the part where you put me in charge in your absence.” Gunnar grinned.

“Where are the prisoners and who is guarding them?” Jarl demanded.

“Relax. Halvard was able to find new trading partners for everything at half