Loki's Daughters (29 page)

Unraveling. Everything. Birgit was unraveling!

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"It is not a very good time of year for trout," said Egil to the small boy who bounced along beside him. "The water is still too murky, and trout do not like it."

"Then where do they go if they do not like the water?"

Egil laughed. He had never thought of that. "Hm. Well, they cannot leave the water. Maybe they look for a place where the water is not so muddy."

"But isn't all the water muddy?"

"Aye, but some of it is clearer. Maybe I am wrong. Maybe they are there all the time, but they just don't take bait when the water is muddy."

"Don't you know? I thought you knew all about fishing. How can you teach me if you don't know?"

Egil studied the child's suspicious gaze and suppressed a laugh. "Well, I can teach you what I know, but no one knows everything. And I do not. I'll show you the best ways to catch trout, but even the best ways don't always work. You will have to make lots of mistakes before you learn everything I know."

"I don't want to make mistakes." The boy frowned.

"But mistakes are important, Liam. It is true with hunting, too. You must first learn what makes noise before you can learn to be silent. With the trout, they have very good eyes, for they must see their food before they strike, so you must learn how not to be seen. But first you must learn what they see."

Liam studied the murky water from all angles, squinting beneath his frown. "Can they see when the water is muddy?"

"I don't know, but they do not feed when the water is too muddy, maybe because they cannot see their prey. You are a very smart boy, Liam. Maybe I will learn some things from you."

"Truly?"

Truly, Egil thought. He figured he would learn something very special from this boy.

***

Arienh stomped down the path toward the river, determined to do something, but with no idea what that would be. Anything besides remaining in the cottage where Birgit continued with her incessant weaving. Swish, swish. She couldn't stand it any longer.

Well, what? She couldn't tend the animals. That Viking, Tanni, had already herded them from the pens into the upper valley. He did that every day, leaving her no other task but to check them for murrain when they came down of a night. Soon, he would be keeping them in the high mountain valleys and she would not have even that to do.

Everywhere, she saw signs of the Vikings' labor. The Vikings had plowed the fields and sown them, and green sprigs already broke the ground. Smoke billowed from the forge. Cottages all wore new thatch, even some that had been topless for years. She had refused Wynne's offer of geese, so she had no geese to tend. And there was no point in gathering clams, for the Vikings brought fresh game or meat every day. Her people had not eaten so well in years.

She certainly couldn't go back to the green where the Vikings exercised their tender ploys along with their archery.

There had to be something to do. It hadn't been so very long since she had complained to herself that there was too much to do. Now, the Vikings were taking over everything, and Arienh wasn't sure where she belonged anymore.

But what?

Ah, the stones. In all the tumult over the Vikings, she had not been into the hills for a long time. In fact, last night she had counted twenty-three scratches on her board. The moon had passed through three phases. She had not been up there since...

The Viking. The man had taken over her life.

That left only a little less than three more moon phases before Beltane. She had grown careless, all because she hadn't wanted to be reminded of what had happened within the stone circle.

With a flip of her skirts, Arienh spun in her tracks and headed toward the trail that led to the upper end of the valley and the stone circle. But she was making her pique obvious, and she hardly wanted the men to notice she had quarreled with her sister. She slowed to a more natural stride.

Ronan stopped to watch her pass, but she pretended not to notice. Perhaps he would tend to his other students.

Perhaps bats would fly in the bright of day.

The trail, widened by the passing of sheep to the high pasture, and recently well muddied from the necessity of bringing in the flock every night, wound familiarly along the river where Liam fished with big, blond Egil. Seeing them together only reminded her more painfully of Liam's terrible heritage. Liam looked enough like the man to be his own son.

"Aunt, look! I'm fishing!" Liam's excited voice carried from the riverbank to the trail.

"Aye, I see, Liam." She continued her trek.

"Come and watch me, Aunt. I'm going to catch a fish."

She gritted her teeth. She didn't want to watch. Did she not want the boy to be successful? Or perhaps she wanted the Viking to fail with the boy? Nay, her anger was senseless. Birgit was right, Liam needed the man.

"Not now, Liam. Catch a fish for me."

But what about Birgit? No matter that Birgit intentionally risked herself for Liam's sake, Birgit would fade away to nothing if the Viking took Liam away from her. Birgit had so little to live for. Only Liam.

What was she to do? There had to be something.

Nothing came to her. Arienh stalked up the valley, turning west into the hills and taking the back trail that led up into the circle, where she felt safe, embraced by all that was past, that stretched back beyond the time that men recalled.

In the dim recesses of her mind, she could still hear her great-grandfather telling her the stories of the stones, how once men governed their lives by the circles. There was so much more to it than she knew, for most of the lore of the stones was lost. All she knew how to do was move the small marker stones around the circle to keep time, so that everyone knew when crops were to be planted, or harvested, and when the feasts were to be held.

Sighing, Arienh picked up the marker stone and counted off the markers in the ancient way, "
Yan, tan, tether, ted…
" until she reached the twenty-fourth marker, and set the stone down.

Beltane was coming. The moon would pass through two phases and four nights. They would build great fires and drive the flocks between them. It was a time for men to dance in great circles.

Except that they had no men. Only Vikings.

Sudden tears formed in her eyes. Beyond their blurring, she pictured within the circle the great, crackling fires of Beltane, sending tongues of fire to the heavens. Past her skipped the dancers, grandfather with arms entwined with cousin, father, uncle, as they circled. Almost, she could hear the shouts and laughter, deep and mellow voices singing words no longer understood by living man. The tingling of smoke in her nostrils was only a memory. They were gone. Brother, father, cousin, uncle, all gone, because of Vikings.

Because of the kind of men who had invaded her village and taken over their lives. And they thought she would just forget?

She wiped at her eyes. She must not cry. If she ever started, she might never stop.

With a fierceness welling inside her, she spun around to fix her eyes and her fury on the circle's center, the place where she had lain with the Viking.

 
There he stood, hands resting on stocky hips, above those massive, tree-trunk legs with their muscular calves and bulky thighs. Broad shoulders above broad, tapering chest, with the thick plates of muscles she knew so well. Beautiful, bright, anxious blue eyes in a face so handsome, she wanted to die for him.

How could she? He was going to destroy everyone, and worse, do it kindly. And traitor that she was, she wanted to tell him everything.

Anger and grief thickened in her throat. "Leave this place, Viking. It is mine."

"It is ours, Arienh. We shared it. Together."

"That was an accident. It will never happen again."

"It will. We belong together. I have known it from the beginning, and you know it, too."

Two quick strides, and he swept her into his arms. She shoved against him, her efforts puny against his strength.

"Nay, do not fight me so, Arienh."

She could see the aching, yearning, in his eyes, and it only made her angrier. "We had an agreement. Already you break it. You said you would leave us alone, yet even before the sun reaches noon, your brother violates it, and comes to my house for Liam."

"But that was different."

"It was but an excuse. And you have not even that. Leave me alone, Viking."

"I come because you are so unhappy. Tell me, love. Let me help you." His arms folded around her gently, yet gripped her as tightly as if he had lashed his body to hers.

Fury fought with anguish. Then despite her resolve, a flood of shaming tears poured forth. Her fists tightened, gripping the leather of the back of his jerkin, pulling him close while she desperately wished she was pushing him away.

"Tell me, love. Tell me what it is that hurts you so."

"You. It is you. You will destroy all of us."

"Nay, I swear to you, I will hurt no one. What is it you think I will do?"

She could not tell him, for telling him would only bring it about sooner. Arienh could only tuck her tear-stained eyes into his chest, ashamed that she cried when she should have been strong, that she was too weak even to push him away. This would be how he would destroy her, with his tenderness.

"Go away," she said, choking back a sob.

"Not just yet." She could feel his lips against her hair, feel him nosing back the strands of hair at her temples, making way for gentle, nibbling kisses. Soon he would have her down on the bare rock, making love to her as easily as he had the first time. Nay, even more easily, weakling and coward that she was. Selfish, weakling coward. It was Birgit who would pay the price for her selfish desires.

"I am so hungry for you. Do not say you are not as hungry for me. Give yourself to me. You are my wife, love."

Wife? That did it.

"I am not. Not." Her weakness springing into strength, she shoved hard, catching him by surprise.

He released her. A
 
puzzled pain mingled in his eyes. "Arienh?"

"That's all you do. Take. And you think after all you've taken from us, we'll blithely encourage you to take more. Enough. Enough, I tell you."

"Arienh, you only fight yourself." Again he reached for her, but she lunged away, lifting her kirtle to run. He snagged her arm.

A curdled scream laced with rage rolled down the hill toward them. "Heathen! Barbarian! Let her go!"

Father Hewil.

Arienh spun around, astonished. Like a whirlwind, fierce as any Viking, the wiry priest rushed at them, swinging his staff.

Ronan whirled, drawing his sword.
      

"Nay!" Arienh screamed, and grabbed Ronan from behind at his waist. "He's a priest. You heathen, haven't you had enough of killing priests? Leave him alone!"

Ronan lowered the sword and pitched it aside. But the priest came on like a berserker, ranting, swinging with both hands, his staff slamming down on Ronan's shoulder.

"Ow!"