Page 112 of The Viking’s Captive

A shortage of men was always a problem for the Byzantine armies, especially this Eastern division. As a result, soldiers were given land in return for service. The men were permitted to live on and work their own properties, but they had to present themselves fully armed and mounted whenever summoned to the frontier army. To say they were not dedicated soldiers was an understatement. Mercenaries and soldiers like the Varangian Guard were rewarded with huge salaries and the right to take booty after battles. Tyra thought they had the better deal.

Soon she was saddled up and about to ride out on what turned out not to be the usual guard duty. Instead, General Phocas assembled a large troop, almost two hundred soldiers, and announced they were going farther than they had in the past. This would be an overnight foray to a distant village, where Saïf had presumably been raiding the last few days.

The odd thing was that, at the last moment, the general ordered Gunter, Fegil, and Tyra’s Stoneheim warriors to stay behind while she went alone. They protested vehemently, but the general claimed he needed the accomplished talents of the Northmen to hold down the garrison post. So, at least this time, they gave in.

By that evening, Tyra understood why she and she alone had been singled out from the Stoneheim contingent to go on this foray. As they approached a desert oasis some distance from the village where they were headed, Tyra’s horse suddenly went lame. When she dismounted and examined the mare’s foreleg, she saw immediately that it had been gashed. Before she had a chance to stand and confront whoever had done this dastardly deed, Tyra was struck from behind. She lay in the sand staring up at a hazy image of General Phocas bending over her, smiling grimly.

“Kill the horse,” the general ordered, even as her heavy eyelids were closing. The pain at the back of her head was unbearable. Was this how Adam had felt when she’d whacked him with the flat side of her broadsword?

“Should we leave her here, unattended?” one of the Byzantine soldiers was asking the general.

“Aye. Leave her. She will be rescued shortly. It will be as the empress desires.”

There was much chuckling and soft laughter then as the men mounted their horses and prepared to ride off.

Then Tyra’s world went black.

When Tyra awakened later that day, she was in strange surroundings. Bit by bit, she took in her situation. She was lying on a marble slab. There were cool breezes from water falling into a courtyard fountain. She noticed the pungent scent of desert flowers, the sound of giggles and soft feminine chatter.

Tyra’s head throbbed painfully. Still, she glanced to the right, then to the left. There were scantily clad, beautiful women everywhere, of all ages and colors.

She recognized two facts then:

She was totally naked.

She was in some sultan’s harem.

Tyra gasped and felt her heart begin to race with panic. A hysterical reaction to an unbelievable situation. Rashid had suggested one time that she would make a good harem concubine, and she’d laughed. It would seem that the decision had been taken out of her hands.

For a certainty, she wasn’t laughing now.

BYZANTIUM … AT LAST!

Betimes just prayer is the best plan …

Six sennights of travel, and they were finally arriving in Byzantium. Adam felt as if dozens of butterflies were fluttering their wings in his belly, so anxious was he at the prospect of seeing Tyra again.

What should I say?

How will she look?

How do I look? Rashid says the blue tunic matches my eyes, but mayhap I should try the red-fox-lined cloak instead. Better yet, I should probably wear armor … appear more soldierly.

Bloody hell, what difference does it make how I dress?

On the other hand, some women are swayed by fine trappings.

Not Tyra. Never Tyra.

Well then, how best to handle her?

Fool! Handling is the worst thing I can do.

I must be firm with her.

Nay, I cannot be firm. She will consider that overbearing. Gentle is better. Yea, gentle … but firm.

“Why are you talking to yourself?” Tykir asked, looping a companionable arm over Adam’s shoulder.