There was no point in resisting, and no good crying. What would be would be, although she could have done without the knife at her throat. She must have pleased him, because he let none of the others have her.
“Sleep,” he said almost kindly, “in the morning I will be gone.”
But when sunrise came he discovered his mistake.
The raiders were not destined to leave, instead, they were chained forever to the wheel that lifted water to irrigate the lady’s garden.
If the night belongs to the men in their longships, morning brings the vengeance of women.