Lord of Falcon Ridge (19 page)

“That the king had lied, perhaps. That it wasn't Ragnor's child I carried. I probably would have gone on about their lack of pride to wed me to Ragnor when it wasn't even his child I was carrying. Perhaps insults about their collective manhoods, that they were shriveled and rotted. Something like that.”

“You see, you bring chaos and confusion. Have you any idea what would have happened had you done that?”

“Perhaps the king would have relented since it was all out in the open? That everyone would know what the truth
was? Ragnor would choke on the ale you gave him and die?”

He gave her a look of disgust she couldn't see. “Don't be a fool. The gods know what would have happened. It curdles my blood to even think about it. Now, shall I tell you why you're to wed Ragnor in three days? Well before this pregnant belly of yours begins to swell?”

“You've been here less than a day. How do you know so much? I've been here forever and listened and cajoled and I would have bribed everyone if I'd had any silver. I don't know anything.”

He smiled in the darkness, pleased that she couldn't see his face. He felt the paste cracking around his mouth. “The queen decided that the babe you bear will be a better future ruler if he's not from Ragnor's seed. I understand she questioned Kerek about what sort of man I am. She didn't care in the least that you, not a real princess at all, and I, a former slave who has no future as of yet, would give the Danelaw its future ruler.”

“That's brilliant. She's a ruthless woman.”

“Aye, and a very clever one. I've heard your threats about how you will yell the roof down if they try to make you wed Ragnor. The queen isn't stupid. She wants this marriage. She plans something. I just don't know what it is yet.”

“I'll find out. I'll use guile with her and she'll confess what she plans to me.”

He laughed, he couldn't help himself.

“By all the gods, Cleve, you're here. That means Kiri is starving herself. Did you bring her? Is she on the
Silver Raven?
Is she safe?”

“She is at Hawkfell Island. She is eating because I swore to her that I would bring you back. She's not even counting sticks, at least she'd better not be.”

She very slowly eased herself against his chest, only to feel what seemed to be very big breasts. He just laughed and pushed her away. “Don't ruin my paint. This face is desired by Ragnor. Don't hug me again. My breasts aren't
all that stable at the moment.”

“After you rescue me, Cleve, will you make me pregnant? I mean
really
pregnant? I'm very close to getting all the fathers of this babe confused.”

“I suppose I must, otherwise only the gods know what poor fellow you will choose as your next victim.” He paused a moment, and she wished she could see his face. She felt his fingers lightly touching her mouth, her jaw, her nose. She wanted to kiss him, but she didn't want to smear his face. She felt his warm breath against her ear as he said, “I'm pleased that Ragnor didn't force you. A woman who is forced by a man isn't usually eager to have another man bed her, even if she thinks she wants him.”

“How do you know that?”

“I've seen it. Forget not that I was a slave for fifteen years. I saw everything.”

“Ah, but everything is different now. You have me.”

“It appears so,” he said, and laughed. He patted her cheek and rose from the box bed. “Sleep and don't try to come up with your own plans. I don't want to have to follow after you and put out fires. I will decide what it is we will do. Obey me in this, Chessa, or it will not go well for you.”

 

Everyone treated her with great deference, including the guard that trailed after her everywhere she went. In two days she was to marry Ragnor. She'd seen Isla flirting with Ragnor, giving him mead, but he'd made no move to see her.

Cleve had told her to leave everything to him. Why? She wasn't stupid or helpless. An entire day had passed and nothing had happened. She had to do something. If she managed to save herself, why then, she could save Cleve too. She was whistling when she was shown to the queen's garden.

It was just beyond dusk, at that shadowy moment before darkness came. The beautiful garden, with its brilliant flowers, didn't look as wildly glorious as it did in full sun. There
were shadows in the corners. Everything seemed dull and lackluster, as if every flower, every shrub, every tree, would crumble into dust the moment darkness fell.

Was she being fanciful because she was pregnant? She laughed as she remembered Sira would defend her tantrums by claiming the babes were making her fanciful.

The queen said, “Ah, you're here at last, Chessa. Do come and sit down and let's enjoy the quiet of the evening. Then you will dine with the king and Ragnor, as I think I'll do this evening as well. One of my people told me that the king is displeased with the concubine who stands at his left hand. It appears he forgot to have her taste something for him and thus could have been poisoned. It is her fault, of course. Aye, I'll go dine with the king and the court and see what's happening. I don't want him to hurt her. Now, sit down, my child.”

“I'm not a child and I'm not yours.”

“You soon will be mine, but enough. You will learn that life doesn't always give you what you want it to. Just look at me.”

“I'm looking, lady, and I see a woman who has everything she could possibly want. I see a lady who rules and meddles to her heart's content. I see a lady who dislikes her only son so much she wants to wed him to a woman who loathes him, a woman who would never let him touch her, a woman pregnant with another man's child. I think I prefer my stepmother, who is truly rotten. At least she's honest in her rottenness.”

Turella felt a stab of anger. No, she thought, the girl was just trying to enrage her. And she was succeeding because what she said was true. She sighed. “Here is some lemon ale that is very good. Would you like some?” As she spoke, Turella calmly poured herself a goblet of the ale and drank it down.

“Aye,” Chessa said after Turella had swallowed all of it.

They sat together on the stone bench as the shadows deepened, Turella telling her about the Bulgar and the
immense stretches of barren land that lay between settlements, the trade routes that were jealously guarded and fought over, the Swedes who controlled Kiev and were even now extending their rule to the south and to the east.

Chessa listened to her words. They were becoming more distant and were so very soft. Merrik had brought Laren, her little brother, Taby, and Cleve out of Kiev. She would like to visit such a strange city. It sounded magical. She listened to the gentle buzzing of insects that flew near but never touched her. She began to smell the hyacinths and Turella's magic roses though she wasn't close to them. The flowers didn't die when it was night. That relieved her. When the darkness fell, she felt the softness of the night, the sweetness of the air around her. She was smiling when she slowly fell off the bench onto the ground.

Turella rose and looked down at her. “When I was your age, Princess, I would have fallen into the same trap. You will think yourself stupid to have been duped, but you aren't. I wouldn't ever wait to the last minute to take action. If I had, you would have never touched that lemon ale even after watching me drink it.”

The queen called to her guards. One of them wrapped Chessa in a warm blanket and hefted her over his shoulder.

“Follow me,” the queen said.

 

The following afternoon, Baric, Isla at his side, gave Ragnor another lesson on a new harp and taught him another love poem.

“I don't want to learn another love poem,” Ragnor said. “I'm to marry the princess tomorrow. Thus I don't have to lie to her, quoting any more of your silly poems. Besides, I won't see her again until the moment she's to agree to be my wife. My mother has her hidden away so she won't try to do something stupid. I hope my mother forgets where she hid the princess, but I know she won't. She never forgets anything.”

Isla said easily, looking at Ragnor as if he were a succulent roasted boar, “Ah, my lord, it's a pity that you must
marry such a bitch. She has no stature, no gratitude for what you offer her. She has no appreciation for your finer qualities. I still don't understand why she must be forced. It makes no sense.”

Baric strummed on the harp, humming, looking down at his shoes.

Ragnor shrugged. “I don't understand it either. She claims she loves another man, but how could that be possible? She's seen me, surely that is enough. Once she liked me, but then she changed, for no reason I can think of other than that I tried to seduce her and she didn't want to succumb. She's stubborn.” He sighed deeply. “I think she's just like my mother.”

“The queen appears properly cowed by the king. You will deal with the princess in just the same way.”

“Ha,” Ragnor said. “You don't know my mother, Isla. You don't understand.”

“Would you like some of my mead, my lord? I thought of you whilst I brewed it. It tastes rich and dark, just like a woman should taste. Just like I taste. That bitch probably tastes like goat weed.”

Ragnor felt saliva pool in his mouth. He watched Isla draw another goatskin from beneath her gown. He stared at her big breasts. He didn't like all the cosmetics she wore on her face, but she'd probably had a disease when she'd been a child and thus her face was badly pocked. As for the patch over her eye, he didn't care about that either. It wasn't important. Her mead was important. Her worship of him was important as were those big breasts of hers.

He drank deeply, knowing she was smiling at him. He wiped his mouth and said, “Your mead is better than Utta's. Will you bed with me after I am married to Chessa? Will you continue to make me mead?”

“I will think about it. You know, Ragnor, mayhap you need a woman who isn't at all like your mother to tell this silly princess how very lucky she is. Mayhap I should visit her. I would make her see reason. I would make her appreciate how blessed she is, how honored she is that you
will take her to wife. Mayhap she isn't really pregnant with this other man's child. Mayhap it is just another ploy, and this Kerek is quite wrong. I could get her to tell me the truth.”

“If my mother couldn't succeed with her, then no one could, even you. Even my mother was forced to drug her. I doubt she's even awake.”

Isla shrugged and poured Ragnor more mead. “I could see. There would be no harm done.”

“I will think about it. Baric, I want to drink my mead. I don't want to learn any more of those silly poems. I wish to gaze upon Isla whilst I drink. Mayhap she will rub my forehead. You may play for us.”

“Aye, my lord,” Baric said, his eyes still on his shoes, thankful his beard covered his face.

“Do you taste rich and dark, Isla?”

“No woman could taste richer and darker than I do, my lord. I'm filled with richness, deep within me.”

“I don't understand that.”

“I don't either, my lord, but I like the sound of it.”

Baric sang louder, his smooth voice filling the chamber.

“More mead, my lord?”

“I feel very tired, Isla. Very tired indeed.”

“Then rest. That's right, just lay your royal head on my lap and rest. Good.”

Ragnor began snoring. Isla looked over at the guards who stood at the doorways. They looked bored.

“Your song is exquisite, Baric. I believe you've put the prince to sleep.”

“I know. But I've a need to relieve myself. Would you like me to carry Ragnor out of here?”

“It suppose it wouldn't look good for me to do it.”

“You carry my harp, nothing more. I would fear your breasts just might fall to the floor.”

 

 

C
LEVE ROSE AS
Kerek came into Baric's small chamber, given to Baric by Olric some five years before.

“What is this about you wanting to speak to the princess, Baric? Why is this woman here?”

“Hello, Kerek.”

Kerek stared at that face with all its paint, at that black patch over the right eye, at those huge breasts.

“Come, Kerek. Bid me hello.”

“Oh no,” Kerek said, taking a step back. “You're not a whore at all, are you? Is it you, Cleve?”

“Aye.”

“Many of the men want to bed you, including Ragnor. By the gods, you've disguised yourself well. But it's over. You must leave. The queen has Chessa hidden. Even I don't know where she is. You must escape the palace before someone discovers who you really are. I've no wish to harm you, but if Ragnor sees you—sees you as you really are—he'll do his best to see you flayed alive.”

“I don't think so, Kerek. That's why you're here. Baric, shut the door. Aye, that's good. Stand against it. Now, another trade, Kerek. I have Ragnor. You have Chessa. He dies if you don't give me Chessa. You have until the tide is in. That's about three hours from now.”

Kerek just shook his head back and forth and began to
moan aloud. “Nothing has gone right, nothing. A simple kidnapping began it, and from that moment, everything turned sour. I had believed only the princess could bring me low, but now here you are dressed like a woman, painted like a harlot, and you've teased Ragnor until he's ready to howl. No one realized you were a man, even I.”

“Don't tell me you wanted to bed me too, Kerek.”

“No, but my mind has been filled with so many details of late.”

“I'm relieved. Ragnor's mind is filled only with the desire for my mead. He said it's better than Utta's.”

Kerek cursed softly. “You brought Utta's mead, didn't you? I should have guessed something was amiss.”

“Of course,” Cleve said. “My only concern is that the queen will refuse to give up Chessa because she believes her more valuable than Ragnor.”

“She'll give her up. The Danes wouldn't accept a woman ruling openly. But why didn't you just leave her? You can have another woman. Why must it be Chessa?”

“Didn't you tell me you were sorry when you made the trade for Kiri, sorry because I loved her?”

“Aye, but what does love have to do with anything? I've seen little enough of it around. Just look at you—Kiri's mother tried to murder you. Forget love, Cleve, and leave. Chessa will be happy here, you'll see.”

“Is that why Turella drugged her and has her hidden? Because she's so concerned about how happy she'll be? Give it up, Kerek. For the last time, give it up.”

“I must speak to the queen.”

“Why don't both of us speak to her.”

They found Turella in her garden, on her hands and knees, sorting seeds. She was humming.

“Lady,” Kerek said and lightly touched his hand to her shoulder. She grew very still, then slowly, she looked up at him and Cleve saw that the look on her face was too tender for a queen toward her subject. He wondered how he could turn it to his advantage.

“Ah, Kerek. What have you done? You brought Baric's woman. Why?”

Cleve said, “I'm really not a woman, my lady. My name is Cleve. I'm the father of Chessa's babe. I'm here to fetch her and take her home.”

The queen slowly cleaned off her hands and rose. She looked at Cleve for a very long time, then said, her voice irritated, “I want to see what you look like as a man. I want to know what my grandson will look like.”

“Perhaps the babe will be the picture of Chessa,” Cleve said.

“You can't have her, Cleve. It is done. You will leave willingly or I will give you to my son. He treated you badly before. Just imagine what he would do now.”

“Ragnor won't do anything, lady. Your son is right now snoring blissfully, drugged to his brows, just as you drugged the princess.”

The queen staggered back. Kerek grabbed her arm to steady her. “Is he telling the truth, Kerek?”

“Aye, he is. I don't know where he's got Ragnor hidden. He wants to trade Ragnor for the princess.”

“I want it done now,” Cleve said. “Take me to Chessa.”

Slowly, the queen shook her head. “I cannot. She must wed Ragnor. She must someday rule the Danelaw.”

Cleve only smiled. He slipped a small very sharp knife from his tunic, grabbed Kerek, and stuck the knife point into his neck.

“Then first I will slit Kerek's throat and then I will kill Ragnor. You can keep Chessa, but I don't know what you'll do with her. She'll make you regret it too, if I know her. Ah, I see that you do. Give over, lady.” He pressed the knife tip into Kerek's throat. A drop of blood trickled over the smooth blade.

Turella stepped forward. “No, don't hurt him. By all the gods, what am I to do, Kerek?”

“Let him kill me, Turella, it doesn't matter. But he will kill Ragnor as well and then where will we be? Cleve is right. It's over. We must think of something else.”

The queen frowned down at her hands, at the black rich dirt beneath her nails. “We can find a silly little girl for Ragnor, I suppose. But it means that I must remain as I am, Kerek. I cannot die.”

“You won't die,” Kerek said.

“This is all touching,” Cleve said. “Let's end it. Will we trade?”

The queen nodded. “Release Kerek.”

Cleve did, then wiped the tip of the knife on his sleeve. “Take me to the princess.”

The queen started to protest but Kerek gently laid his hand on her arm. “You can believe him. He will release Ragnor. He will keep his word. He is that kind of man.”

 

Chessa lay on her back atop several soft furs in a small storage chamber. Two guards sat near her, rising quickly when the queen came into the room.

“Leave us,” she said.

Cleve dropped to his knees beside Chessa. He shook her gently. “She's still unconscious. You drugged her yesterday.”

“She will be all right. I planned to lessen the drug tomorrow morning until she was just conscious enough to do as she was told during the marriage ceremony.”

Chessa moaned, but she didn't awaken.

“Kerek, wrap her up in the furs. You will come with me. When I have her safe on board the warship, then I will tell you where Ragnor is.”

It was quickly done. Cleve's last view of the queen made him smile. She was tapping her fingers against her temple. She was thinking and planning and plotting. He imagined that some poor girl would soon be in Ragnor's bed.

They were out of York harbor within an hour.

“I have a gray hair,” Cleve said to Chessa, who was lying still unconscious across his thighs, “and I have known you only a short time. What will I look like when I reach Rorik's advanced years?”

Rorik laughed as he rowed. “It's true,” he said over his
shoulder, “I'm aged. I am thirty at the beginning of summer. How can you see this gray hair? Your hair is golden.”

Hafter said, “He feels the gray hair, Rorik, and I understand that. Many times Entti will make me so angry I want to strangle her, I can actually feel my own gray hairs pushing to come up through my scalp. Is the princess awake yet, Cleve?”

“No, and it begins to worry me. She's very pale. Her flesh feels too dry. I was stupid. I should have found out what drug the queen gave her.”

Gunleik said, “Wet a cloth in the water and wipe her face with it. Mayhap it will shock her awake.”

He lightly touched the wet cloth over her dry skin. He smoothed her eyebrows, touched his fingertips to the tip of her nose, and rubbed the cloth over her throat. Her lashes were thick and long. He hadn't noticed that before. Her mouth should be soft and moist, he'd noticed that, but now her lips were dry and cracked. How could this happen in just one day?

He began to worry when darkness fell that night. He ate the dried herring Hafter handed to him and chewed on flatbread Aslak had bought at the marketplace. She didn't move. Cleve shook her, slapped her face several times. She still didn't awaken. Gunleik told him to continue wiping her with the wet cloth.

He carried her to the covered cargo space, laid her gently on several blankets, then stretched out beside her. He picked up her hand. It was small and dry and limp.

He stripped off her clothes and began wiping her with a wet cloth. Still, she didn't wake up.

It was Gunleik who said just after dawn, “She must not have borne the queen's potion well. We've got to make her wake up. I fear she'll just fade away from us if she remains unconscious.”

Cleve had felt helpless in his life, many, many times, helpless and impotent, but now it was not just his need to do something to help her, it was necessary for him, she
couldn't die. She was Kiri's second papa. By all the gods, she was also important to him. He felt fear in his guts. “What are we going to do?”

Gunleik rose. “I'll get Rorik's packet of medicines Mirana always sends with him. Perhaps there is something that will help.”

Gunleik was back with a large skin lined with soft linen and holding vials of creams and liquids. Rorik came in behind him. “There is nothing here that can help else I would have said something before.”

“She must wake up,” Cleve said. “She must wake up and see that I'm a man again. She's been unconscious for nearly two days. She'll starve to death if she doesn't awaken.”

“Then we will pull close to shore and you can go overboard with her. Hold her in the cold water. Mayhap that's what's needed to shock her awake. Mirana did that once with our little boy, Ivar, and it worked.”

Cleve thought it a crazed idea, but he was desperate.

When they were within feet of the shore, Cleve lifted Chessa, held her tight against him, and jumped into the water with her. They both went under. The water was so cold it shocked the breath from him. He shoved upward, found he could stand on his feet, and kept Chessa close, the water to her neck. He held her there until suddenly she heaved and shuddered, and shoved hard at him, moaning, hitting at his chest.

“You're killing me,” she yelled, her voice harsh and raw. “I'm dying of cold. Please, Cleve, don't kill me. I won't be pregnant anymore with your babe, I swear it.”

He was so relieved, so very happy, he lifted her in his arms and kissed her mouth. “I should have known the moment you woke up you'd talk about my babe. Come, let's get you dry.”

She looked at the boat, at the men all leaning over the side, all cheering now. “This is strange. You're no longer Isla. What's happening? Oh, dear, where is the queen?”

Cleve just laughed and handed her up to Hafter, who
hauled her into the warship. “I tried to throw her to the fish, but she wouldn't let go of me.”

“What happened? Where are we?”

Cleve climbed over the side of the warship, shook himself like Kerzog, and said, grinning at her, “We rescued you. The queen gave you a potion. I gave Ragnor a potion. Then we made a trade. The queen didn't want to, but she realized that you couldn't rule the Danelaw without Ragnor as the nominal king. Unfortunately, the sweet prince never awoke before we gave him back to Kerek and the queen, else I would have enjoyed telling him that he'd fallen in love with Isla, who was really his worst nightmare, namely I, and it was Utta's wine he was drinking. You're safe now, Chessa. Now, let's go get us both dry.”

“I'm very hungry, Cleve. I haven't eaten since last night.”

“You,” Rorik said, cuffing her shoulder as he would a boy, “you haven't eaten for at least two days.”

“Perhaps you don't have to feed her. Just look at her, she still yells and talks,” Rorik said. “Any minute now she'll want you to impregnate her again. How do you feel, Chessa?”

“Very cold. I shall collapse very soon since you haven't fed me.”