Free Loki's Daughters by Delle Jacobs Page A

them as they sleep."
    A collective gasp echoed in the rocky chamber.
    Arienh shuddered. "Ferris, how can you even think of such a thing? Are you no better than their kind?"
    "They killed my son," Old Ferris retorted with sharp,   glistening eyes. "Aye, that's what you must do. Avenge your families. Kill them for the sons and daughters they have murdered, raped, and stolen into slavery. You, Birgit, do you not want revenge for what they did to you? Your body ravaged, your sweetheart butchered? Do you think we would be so hungry if your father and my son had not been killed? Will you have your revenge?"
    But Birgit stood tall and proud against Old Ferris's maliciousness. "Nay, I will kill no one, not in so evil a way."
    "Nor I," agreed Mildread. "Besides, it would not work. At the very best, some would escape and kill all of us."
    "And I will not kill anyone at all," said Selma. "Do not even think I will help you."
    "Nor I." Arienh's words were echoed by others, and she breathed out her relief. "We must outsmart them, for we have not the strength or weapons to combat them. And for all that they are barbarians, they are clever men. But they could be pushed to their limit, I think. We do not need to make life easy for them. Perhaps, in fact, we could make life hard for them."
    Selma brightened and tossed her curls. "Perhaps miserable," she added. Her round brown eyes sparkled.
    Other women caught the idea as a murmur of interest swept through the crowd. Everyone seemed to speak at once.
    "Such as what?"
    "Nothing truly harmful," Arienh cautioned. "We must beware the Northmen's fury."
    "Ruin their food supply," suggested Selma.
    Mildread shook her head. "We are all too hungry ourselves. I could easier slit their throats than ruin perfectly good food."
    Everyone laughed.
    "Of course," Mildread continued, "we could steal it and eat it. That would be fun."
    Other voices babbled in the cavern's dimness, overlapping each other, so fast that Arienh was not entirely sure who spoke.
    "Pranks. Like boys do to old men."
    "Steal their tools and bury them."
    "Scatter their flocks."
    "Forget the sheep. The dogs would just herd them back. Scatter the horses."
    Giggles.
    Silence.
    "Can no one think of anything else?"   Arienh asked.
    "We might not lure them into our beds, but how about into the woods?"   Selma said sweetly. "They are strangers here."
    Arienh nodded. "Get them lost. I like it. But we need more. We must convince them we're too much trouble. Enough to make them leave, but not enough to harm any of us. It will be hard."
    A rumbling chorus of assent echoed in the cavern.
    "But what if it doesn't work, Arienh?" Selma asked. "What if they just decide to kill us all?"
    That was what Arienh feared. "We have no other weapon. We have no power at all, except ourselves. But we are not cowards. We must either take the chance, or give in to them."
    "Aye," Mildread agreed. "'Tis better than more bloodshed. You are right, Arienh. Though I think you should have killed the dark one, perhaps it would have brought us more harm. Who can say? This might be a better plan."
    "Now," said Arienh, "I have something. And it will cost us nothing but a little time."
    "What?"
    For an answer, she merely grinned and motioned for the villagers to follow her out into the clear, dark night.
    From Weylin's cottage in the lower valley came the sounds of deep and rollicking voices singing.
    "They're drinking," she said. "Mead. Celebrating their triumph. Let them. It will keep them busy."
    "For what?"
    "Come and see. Selma and Mildread, bring three others. And buckets. Lots of buckets."
     
    ***
     
    Hidden among scrubby oaks, Arienh watched a silent figure, silhouetted by the bright half moon, glide across the shining sand to the distant surf's edge. Skirts billowed in the stiff wind as the figure bent down, filled a pail, then walked back the long trek to low dunes. Not a bird pipped as the bucket passed to another hushed figure, that turned and trudged just as