Loki's Daughters (39 page)

She ran, stumbling, frantic to catch him. Ahead of her, now she could see him as he left the shade of the ash grove for the bright, open green around the village. She quickened her pace.

He broke into a run. Did he run from her?

Then she heard the din, loud shouts and screams, like a battle. Or an attack. Terror gripped her.

Run! Hide!

Birgit! Liam! Her village was in danger!

She sucked in a sharp breath, shoved panic deep inside her. Dropping her basket, Arienh sped toward the village. She cleared the edge of the forest and stopped cold.

Village women screamed and flailed at Viking men who held them back. In the midst of all, the red-bearded blacksmith, Bjorn, forced Elli to her knees with one hand, and by the other gripped her unbound hair.

A line of blood dripped from his neck.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Ronan reached the crowd only paces ahead of her. From all directions, other men and women ran into the meadow. Mildread screamed, beating her fists against Egil, who grabbed her wrists, twisted her around, and pinned her against his chest.

Ronan grabbed Bjorn, forced Elli out of the blacksmith's grip and shoved him away. "What happened?" he demanded.

"Damn woman tried to kill me!" Bjorn yelled, his face as fiery as his short, red beard.

Arienh gasped. She reached for Elli, but Ronan pushed her away. "Nay, Elli wouldn't."

But if anyone, Elli would, for her grandfather. Arienh bit her lip lest she say something dangerous.

"You think so?" shouted Bjorn. "You think I sliced myself? Tripped on my sword, maybe?"

"Easy, Bjorn," said Olav, pinning Bjorn back by his arms.

"Let go of me."

"Not till you calm down," said Ronan.

Bjorn's eyes blazed like fire, but he stopped struggling. Olav loosed his hold, and Bjorn tossed off Olav's grip.

Elli squirmed against Ronan’s strong arms, choking on her frightened sobs, as Arienh pried futilely at the Viking’s hands. Ronan spun around, keeping his massive body between Elli and Bjorn, forcing the girl farther from Arienh.

"What happened?" Ronan demanded.

"Damn witch tried to slit my throat as I slept."

"Slept? It's the middle of the day, Bjorn."

"Well, I was-I'd drunk some."

"She was in the forge with him, Ronan," said Olav, who joined the guard holding back the women. "I saw her go in. Bjorn was lively enough then."

"Meaning?"

"I saw them kissing, nothing more."

"The rest of it, then, Bjorn."

"She tricked me, damn her. Acted like she cared about me. Then she waited till I dropped off, then quick as a wink, had a knife to my throat. She was going to slit my throat, damn her!"

Arienh couldn't breathe. That was exactly what Elli would have done if she followed Old Ferris's scheme. And who better than his own granddaughter? She glanced about and spotted Ferris hanging back behind the clutch of women, his eyes fierce with hatred, sparkling with anticipation.

She had to do something. The Vikings could finish Elli off in seconds if they chose. And why would they not, for trying to kill one of their own men?

Arienh threw herself in front of Ronan. "Let her go."

His blue eyes darkened with smoking rage, a command to back away. She could not. She blocked his path.

"Let her go? She attempts murder, and you want me to let her go?"

"Is this the equality you speak of, Viking? Will you execute her when you have not even heard what she has to say?"

"I see blood. Where do you think it came from?"

"Ask her, if you dare, Viking."

His eyes smoldered. He released his grip, and the terrified girl crumpled to the ground, her blonde hair spilling over her face. Arienh dashed in, but Ronan blocked her.

"Nay, you will not touch her. You want her to speak? So be it. Well, girl?"

Ronan glared at Elli who shrank away.

"Well?"

Elli's lip trembled, but she set her jaw and raised herself to her knees. "He killed my father."

Ronan's dark brows furrowed until they almost met. "Your father is already dead."

"And he killed him. I was there. I saw it."

"That's not possible."

"Why not?" Arienh asked angrily. "You have been here before. Why not him?"

"But Bjorn has not. She has confused him with someone else. Or she lies altogether."

Arienh wedged herself in front of Elli. "Elli does not lie. And I will not let you harm her."

"Is this another one of your pranks, Arienh? If so, this time you have gone too far."

"It is no prank. She testifies it was he who murdered her father. Is that not grounds enough for revenge?"

Ronan hesitated. His eyes shifted toward the blacksmith. "Bjorn? What say you?"

The blacksmith had lost his florid rage, and he stared in confusion. His fingers probed at the thin red line of blood. "Nay, I know nothing of her father."

"So you will believe him," Arienh said, "for he is your kind. And you accuse me of hating your race, Viking? I say it is yours that hates mine, for hatred excuses your violence to us."

"Ronan." Egil carefully placed his hand to his brother's arm. "Shouldn't we think this out?"

She had been lost in the intensity of the struggle between Ronan and herself, forgetting the others until Egil interrupted. Egil couldn't know about their fight in the forest, so his brother's anger must seem out of proportion to him. But it was no surprise to Arienh, especially that he blamed the entire thing on her. But blame or no, she had to protect Elli.

And there was only one way.

"Let her go, Viking, and I will give you what you want."

"Will you?" he sneered.

"Aye. I will be your wife. Let her go."

She'd caught him off guard. Never mind that she had just trapped herself.

Ronan quickly surveyed the crowd of bystanders and frowned. "Nay, that choice is not mine. I have not been wronged. Bjorn must decide what to do."

The blacksmith looked pale enough to faint, yet he had lost very little blood. Beneath his wild coppery brows, his pale blue eyes looked deathly ill. He shook his head. "Nay, Ronan, I should have known better. Damn women can't be trusted. But I don't want her hurt."

"What are you talking about, Bjorn? It's your right."

"I give it to you. Let her go and take your wife. You wanted wives. This is your chance."
 
Without another word, the blacksmith pivoted around and stalked off toward his forge, shoving his way through the gathering of men.

Arienh watched the retreating blacksmith with mounting confusion, and Ronan seemed equally puzzled. But she knew his departure would not ease her problem. Ronan was not one to miss an opportunity.

"So be it, then." Ronan's fierce glare pierced Arienh to the core as she saw the hurt that lay beneath it. Her throat tightened, aching the way her heart did. She hadn't wanted it to be this way, but she couldn't let them hurt Elli. She reached down to Elli, helping the girl to her feet.

"Come to my cottage," she said, motioning to the others. "We must figure out what to do next."

"There is nothing to figure!" shrieked Ferris. "She has betrayed us!"

Startled, the women turned to face the old man.

"What do you mean?" Arienh demanded.

"She is no granddaughter of mine," he railed, black eyes flashing. "She has failed."

So Ferris had done this. Set up his own granddaughter to be murdered. "Hush, Ferris. How can you say such a thing? Do you truly think she is a match for such a huge man?"

"She did not do it right. She failed because she lacked the courage. Her own father was killed by that fiend, and she will not avenge him."

"She's lucky she isn't dead," said Mildread. "We're lucky we all aren't dead because of your stupid scheme, Ferris."

Ferris wheeled on Mildread, unleashing his rage on her. "And you. I've seen you sneaking off into the woods with that thin one. You have betrayed your own people to consort with heathens."

Mildread raised her chin high and looked down her nose. "They aren't heathens anymore."

"They will never be anything less. Heathens. Barbarians. Thieving murderers. And you make your bed with them."

Mildread drew herself up to her full height, looming over the old man. "Well, now, how do you know I didn't mean to follow your advice and do him in? But I would not, for he is a true man. You would not know about that. If you want them dead, go slit their throats yourself instead of sending women to do it."

"Slut!"

"Stop it!" shouted Elli. Tears stained her reddened cheeks. "Stop it, Grandfather. You are right, I could have killed him if I'd wanted to, but I didn't want to, and I tried. I've always tried to please you, but you cannot be pleased. No matter what I do, you will never be satisfied, not even with this. You will never be satisfied until we are all dead, and we will not die for your warped vengeance."

The old man bounced about in his frenzy. "He killed my son! Your father! You said so yourself."

"Aye, it was him," Elli said, "I'm sure enough. But there has been enough killing, and I will do your bidding no more."

"Then you are no kin of mine. You will never darken my door again."

The women gasped. Old Ferris flitted his cold stare over the group of women, turning his hardest scowl on Arienh. Then he turned around in the path and stalked away with his awkward gait toward his cottage.

"I wonder who he thinks will look after him now," asked Selma. "I am not inclined, even if he is my uncle."

Mildread's mouth formed a grim line. "I will see to him. I cannot let him starve. But he cannot bully me, either."

"Elli, you will come home with us," Arienh said. "And we will all protect you, do not fear."

Elli already gathered strength from somewhere inside her, or perhaps she absorbed it from her friends and kin who stood by her. Arienh was proud of her. She had stood up to both the Vikings and her grandfather, and survived both times.

With an arm about Elli's shoulders, she started toward the stone cottage where Birgit awaited. Liam, still perched on Birgit's hip, spoke into his mother's ear, pointing in various directions, and Arienh guessed that he told his mother what he saw. But Birgit's sharp ears had no doubt heard enough to guess for herself.

"Arienh," shouted Ronan, angry and fierce.

Arienh jerked and glanced back.

He stood wide, like a man ready to do battle. One massive hand wrapped around his sword's hilt. His eyes blazed. "Your place is with me, wife."

Her jaw gaped. Now? She had thought to stall him at least a little bit longer. "Nay, Viking, it is the middle of the day."

"Is your word worthless, then, Arienh?"