Lord of Raven's Peak (18 page)

He slowly lifted his fingers from her breast then and turned away from her. He said, not looking at her, “Does your breast hurt?”

She shook her head, realized he wasn't looking at her, and said, “No, not very much.”

“A woman's flesh is very tender there. You are lying. I'm sorry my brother did that to you. But he is dead and that is more punishment than he deserved.”

“I didn't kill him, Merrik. Neither did Cleve nor did Sarla. They were just trying to protect me.”

He laughed then, a low, deep laugh, and he was still laughing when he turned again to face her. The laughter suddenly died. “Cover yourself,” he said, and then she saw it—the hunger in him, the need. Was it just for her, or would any woman do?

She did, quickly, jerking the material up against her shoulder. She raised her chin, looking at him straightly. “Why? You do not wish Taby to know that you were staring at his sister? Would it upset him, this lust of yours, or do you merely look at me because there is no other woman who you believe belongs to you?”

“No, this time I had no thought of Taby,” he said. He walked to the box bed and sat down. He leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees. He appeared to be studying the woven wool mat that covered the ground. “Do you really belong to me, Laren?”

“You seem to accept me thus since I am Taby's sister.”

“When I came into you, when I broke through your virginity and touched your womb, I had no thought of you as Taby's sister.”

“You speak bluntly, Merrik.”

“Aye, and you welcomed me until I hurt you. Your breasts are beautiful. I had forgotten.”

“Many women have beautiful breasts, no doubt even Letta.”

“I don't care about her breasts, truth be told. I wish she and her family would leave Malverne.” He paused a moment, then smiled bitterly down at his clasped hands. “I am the master here now. I believe I will tell them to go. I dislike Letta's possessiveness and her father's interference. I dislike her conceit.” He rose. “It is odd. I didn't want Malverne. I never considered that it would be mine. If Erik had a son, I would guard Malverne for him with my life until he was of an age to take it over. I cannot give Malverne to Kenna, though the boy is smart and brave. He is a bastard and none would stand for it. This is a damnable situation.”

“I didn't kill Erik.”

He sighed. “I believe you. However, I cannot be certain about Cleve. He is protective of you. If he saw that Erik was going to rape you, don't you believe he could have easily struck him down?”

“Yes, he could have, but he didn't. Don't you understand? If Cleve killed him, he would have run back down that same path. He would have seen me unconscious. He would have known that I would be blamed.”

Suddenly Merrik raised his head. He smiled at her. “For that same reason, then, Sarla couldn't have done it either.”

She nodded.

“That leaves us with a mystery, then, and I dislike mysteries. I thought the mystery of you and Taby would tease me into madness—your damnable lack of trust in me even though I passed your test—aye, that tale of yours was a test for me, to see if you could trust me—but this is beyond that, far beyond, for Erik, despite his
faults, despite his growing conceit and arrogance, despite it all, he was still my brother. I must avenge him. You understand that, don't you, Laren?”

“Oh aye, Merrik, I understand vengeance.”

He rose then and strode to her. He looked down at her, not touching her, just looking at her. “You have made a rare confusion of my life.” As if he couldn't help himself, he gently lifted her chin in his palm, and stared at her. “Stay here. I will send Sarla to you with clothing.”

“What will you do?”

“I will speak to all my people. I will speak to them of loyalty and show them Cleve's and Sarla's innocence. They are already doubtful, believing that they confessed only to save you. That will leave you, Laren, in their minds. None other, just you. I will deal with it, for by all the gods, I have no choice.”

He left her standing there, her face pale, wondering what he would do, if he would be forced to kill her, a miserable slave who murdered his brother, despite Taby.

 

Sarla's gown hung loose on Laren, for she had no belt to fasten it to her waist. The overtunic hung nearly to her knees and even the two brooches couldn't make it drape properly.

When she walked into the outer chamber, only the women were there, not more than a dozen, all working: smoking herring just brought up from the fjord, cleaning cloth before dyeing it, working the large loom in the corner of the longhouse, kneading bread in the huge trough, so many things they were doing, all everyday, very normal household chores, and Laren realized she wanted to be part of it. She walked to the fire pit, to Sarla, and thanked her for the gown.

Sarla looked at her up and down and gave her a crooked grin. “You look passing strange, Laren. You are still so very thin. Come, eat some porridge.”

“After I eat I want to cook.”

“Aye, it is your punishment for your insolence.” She paused, then added quietly, “Though I doubt the punishment is still in effect since Erik is dead.”

“I want to cook.”

“Do you feel all right?”

“I wish you had not fed me the drug, for my dreams were vicious shadows all concealed in darkness.”

“I just wanted you to be safe. Now everyone is thinking beyond the obvious. Merrik is wise in his speech.”

“You weren't wise, Sarla, neither you nor Cleve. You were foolish.”

“I could not stand there by my fire pit stirring some ridiculous pot of stew whilst everyone accused you and Cleve of murdering Erik.”

“You are very brave.”

Sarla just looked at her. “Nay, I am weaker than you can imagine. Cleve is the one who is strong.” She paused, opened her mouth to say more, then just shook her head.

“Have you seen Taby?”

“He is with the other children outside. I believe Kenna is teaching him wrestling.” She shook her head. “I feel very sorry for Kenna. And for Caylis. Both she and Megot have nothing now. There is not much justice in that, I think.”

“No, there isn't.”

“I didn't realize until just this morning that Merrik is now master of Malverne. Oh, I knew Merrik was the master now, but I didn't realize what it would mean. Letta told me. She is very pleased about it. She made
me feel as though my time here were nearly over. I wanted to slap her.”

“Don't worry about that one. Merrik said since Malverne is now his, he will send the Thoragassons on their way. Perhaps he will do it today. Why don't you tell Letta that she will be gone from Malverne much more quickly than you.”

Sarla looked up to see Letta walking toward them. “By that smug look on her face, I don't think Merrik has yet told them to leave.”

Laren wanted to keep her temper and she knew she would lose it if she remained. She heard Sarla whisper “Coward!” but she kept walking away, more quickly now, until she heard Letta call out, “Stop, slave! I wish to speak to you.”

She sighed, then turned. “What is it you wish now, Letta?”

“My father is with Merrik right now. He is bargaining over your purchase price. He wants you, for he believes you have some worth as a skald, but to have a murderess in his longhouse distresses him. He fears you might became angered at him and kill him.”

Laren just stared at her.

Sarla said, “That is nonsense, Letta, and well you know it. You will hold your tongue. You are a guest here, nothing more, and you will cease strutting yourself about as mistress. You will cease tormenting Laren.”

“Tormenting her! Ha! She has a hide tougher than that boar you were skinning.”

“It is just that your torments are very childlike, Letta,” Laren said. “You are too simple in your spite. Perhaps you will improve as you gain years. It seems you are walking in that path.”

Letta opened her mouth, but Laren forestalled her,
saying quickly, her voice very mean, “Remember your pretty teeth, Letta. One by one. Do you understand?”

Letta paled, turned on her heel, and left the longhouse.

Sarla laughed. “Aye, she is on that path, but she can still be halted in her petty tracks.”

Cleve walked to them, and he was shaking his head. “I waited until she had left you. Laren, Merrik is even now holding a meeting to discuss Erik's murder. Here they call it the
Thing
. It is what they do to determine guilt and search for fair answers. I came to tell you. Most still believe you guilty, but now, at least, they're discussing it.”

Caylis came forward to stand beside Cleve. “I don't think you're guilty, but if you hadn't come here, Erik wouldn't be dead and my son and I would be safe.”

She was right, but Laren said only, “I'm sorry, Caylis, but believe me, I did not kill him. I can do nothing about my presence here, for Merrik controls that.”

“Aye, but Caylis is right,” Megot said. “Because you came we will become as nothing. Perhaps Merrik will even give us to his men to be used at their whim. I pray that Merrik will make us his mistresses, but I know that he now takes only you to his bed. I heard him and Erik once speaking of such things and Erik said Merrik was stupid to want what their parents had shared. He told Merrik that he would come to understand his wish was as flimsy as a dream once he had wedded Letta. He said Merrik would leave her soon enough and search out other women to bed.”

All of this in front of Sarla, Laren thought. She supposed it was much the same amongst her own people, but she'd been too young to notice such things. There was no expression on Sarla's face. None at all. Laren chanced to look at Cleve. She went very still. He was
staring at Sarla, the look on his scarred face so tender, so very helpless, that she wanted to cry.

There came a cry from outside the longhouse, then there was shouting and loud arguing. Then there was utter silence. Gradually they could hear the voices resume, heard the low rumblings of arguments, but controlled now. Then they heard Merrik's voice but they couldn't understand his words. Other voices were raised in question.

“What is it?” Sarla said, and rushed toward the doorway.

Oleg appeared in the entrance. He looked at each of them until he found Laren. He said quietly, “You'd best come now, Laren. Merrik has reached a decision and all will abide by it.”

M
ERRIK WATCHED HER
walk to him, Oleg at her side, Sarla on her other side. He waited until she was standing before him, then said very quietly, “You will come with me now.”

He took her hand and led her away. She heard the men's voices, some clearly angry, others simply questioning. Then she heard Oleg say loudly, “It is right and just. Merrik is the lord of Malverne now. We will all heed his wishes.”

What wishes?

He continued silent until they had walked down the wide path to the fjord. He motioned to the pier. They walked out to the end and he pulled her down beside him, their feet dangling over the end of the pier. The water below was a calm light blue. She could see small ripples created by fish swimming just below the surface.

The sun was bright overhead, the air soft and very warm. She couldn't imagine snow covering everything. A cloud slid in front of the sun, but just for a moment. She waited silent.

“You have two choices,” he said at last.

She cocked her head to one side, staring now at his profile. Still he didn't turn to face her.

“You will wed with me and remain here at Malverne.” He turned to face her as he spoke. “Why do you look so surprised? Why do you shudder? Very well, then. If being my wife displeases you so very much, why, then, you can select the second choice. I will see that you are returned to your family. However, Taby will remain with me. I am making him my son.”

“No!”

“No what?”

She just stared at him, shaking her head back and forth. He supposed he was pleased that for once he'd taken her utterly aback, but more than that, now he wanted her to tell him that she wanted to wed with him, that she—

“I cannot wed you.”

“Oh? You cannot or you will not?”

“I cannot.”

“Are you already married? I don't think it was Thrasco who was the hopeful husband, was it? Or perhaps before you were a slave you were married off as a child?”

“No, no, nothing like that.”

“No, of course you weren't married. You were very much a virgin when I took you. Ah, I see. I am too beneath you to consider as a husband.”

“No, never.”

“More puzzles, more mysteries. Very well, Laren. Don't forget you are my slave. Regardless of what you were before, now you are nothing more than a slave, one that many of my people believe also a murderess. I offer you the moon and the stars—at least that's how a slave would see wedding the master of a large holding such as Malverne.”

She jumped to her feet and stared down at him. “You cannot keep Taby.”

“I can and I fully intend to.” He rose now, more slowly, to face her. He took her upper arms in his big hands. “Will you marry me or no?”

She looked into the fjord and saw a school of herring racing through the water, very close to the smooth surface, leaping above, like darts of silver. She felt she could reach into the water and catch one, so close they were. She looked up at him now. She wanted to smooth the frown from his forehead, as she said very calmly, “I cannot marry you because I was promised to Askhold, heir of Rognvald, king of the Danelaw.”

He jerked back as if she'd struck him. What she said was madness, surely . . . He stared at her, then at her loose-fitting gown and overtunic, not old or ragged, for it was Sarla's, just very plain and too big for her, not garb the future queen of the Danelaw would wear. Something violent moved within him, something he didn't understand, but accepted, just as he'd accepted her and he knew he'd accepted her for a very long time now, for probably longer than he realized. He believed her, tamped down on the fury raging deep within him, and said mildly, “The truth at last. Tell me the rest of it.”

“Taby is indeed a prince. He and I were abducted from my sleeping chamber two years ago, and sold to a slave trader in the Rhineland.”

“Who is your father?”

“Our father, Hallad, is dead. However, Taby is the second male in line to succeed his uncle.”

“His uncle, Laren?”

She drew in a deep breath. “I haven't said his name aloud in two years. Our uncle is Rollo, called the first duke by the Frankish king, Charles the Simple. As you know, he ceded Normandy to Rollo so that he would defend France against the raids of other Vikings.”

This time he didn't feel as if she'd struck him; he felt as if he'd been kicked by a horse. “The famous Rollo,” Merrik said more to himself than to her. “I was raised on tales about the brave and ferocious Rollo. He is truly your uncle?”

“Aye, my father was his older brother. Rollo was wedded to a girl from a royal family in Spain. He loved her, so I have been told. She bore him some six children, three of them boys. However, only the second son, William Longsword, lived to manhood. Thus, Taby is second in line after William. His older brother, Hallad, my father, had four children, three daughters and one son, Taby. Unfortunately our mother died when Taby was only a year old. Our sisters, by my father's first wife, are much older. They are wed to men of high rank and all live in Rouen at my uncle's palace. Someone betrayed us. One or both of my sisters, or their husbands. I don't know who. William Longsword was out of Normandy at the time of our abduction, at the Frankish court in Paris. Also, I trust William. He would no more harm Taby or me than he would harm his own father. He realizes Taby's importance in the scheme of things. He, too, has a wife, but she has borne him no children as yet and they've been wed for five years. At least this was true when we were abducted. Perhaps by now he has a son. Perhaps by now Taby isn't so very important. But until we know, Merrik, Taby is very important to Rollo, very important to Normandy.”

He said nothing for a very long time. Then, “At least they didn't murder you out of hand.”

“No, that is why I believe it must be one of my sisters, or both of them, or their husbands. It would salve their consciences were Taby and I only to be sold as slaves, not killed outright. They surely must believe that they have won, Merrik. They haven't, unless William
Longsword has died leaving no son, but I have heard naught about it. If there is no direct heir, why, then one of the husbands would become the heir to Rollo.”

“That is what you meant when you told me you understood vengeance.”

“Aye, I have lived with the thought of it strong and sweet in my mind. Aye, and on my tongue. I can nearly taste it. As long as I'm alive they haven't won.”

“No, they haven't. You have spent the last two years surviving, keeping Taby with you, keeping him alive.” He looked back up the winding path to Malverne, now his farmstead, enclosed within its mighty wooden palisade. He saw smoke rising from the hole in the roof of the longhouse. Then the barley, hay, and rye fields, surrounding the palisade, the crops nearly ready for harvest. An endless cycle. “Life is not at all what a man expects it to be. I suppose it is better that way. My parents are struck down by a plague, my brother is murdered, the assassin still unknown, and now the child I want as my son is in line to the great Rollo.” He paused a moment, looking down at his brown feet. “It is almost more than I can accept.”

“And I am his niece. It is all true, Merrik.”

“Aye, I do not doubt you. But I do doubt myself. I went to the slave market in Kiev to find a comely female slave for my mother. Instead I found you and Taby. As I told you, you have made my life a confusion. And now I learn you are Rollo's niece. I am impressed with your lineage. Who you are will convince my people that you could not have murdered Erik. Your blood is too purified, too noble, to stain your hands on a man of Erik's station.”

“You will now return me to Normandy? With Taby?”

He became very still. He looked down at her, at the shifting expressions on her face, his own face
unreadable to her. Finally, he said, with no emotion in his voice, his eyes flat, not meeting hers, “If it is your wish.”

He watched her scuff the toes of her leather shoes against the pier. They were an old pair belonging to Sarla. He could see a hole along the side of her foot. “Ah, then you don't wish to wed me now.”

“I didn't say that.”

“Then what do you want, Merrik?”

He clasped her left hand in his and flattened her palm over his chest, laying his hand over hers. “I won't return Taby to your uncle Rollo until I have found out who betrayed you. The danger is still there. To return both you and Taby there now would simply result in your deaths this time, doubt it not. I will not take that chance.”

“Perhaps, but still, I must go back. I will find out. Uncle Rollo will punish my sisters, if it is they who had us abducted. If it is their husbands, they will be killed. I would protect Taby as would Uncle Rollo. Taby could be the future duke of Normandy, if something happens to my cousin before he breeds an heir. He must go back. My uncle grows no younger. He must train Taby, teach him, just as he did William.”

“I had not expected this,” Merrik said slowly, now looking beyond at the distant sheer cliffs, her hand now clasped in his at his side. “I hadn't expected you to be an innkeeper's daughter, however. I just didn't imagine that you would be royalty. I imagine that your Danelaw prince, Askhold, believes you long dead. I imagine he is wed to another by now.”

“Aye, it is possible. He needed a wife to bear him children.”

“What is he like?”

“I don't know. I never met him, but I heard my sisters talking about him. They said he was thirty and his first
wife had died, and she had given him five daughters. He wanted a young girl. He thought I would produce sons for him. Uncle Rollo and the king negotiated the alliance.”

“I do not want you for his reasons. You know me. I have saved your life. You have given me your virginity.”

“Aye, that is true.”

“This prince wouldn't want you if he knew you were no longer a virgin. That is the way of things.”

She could only stare at him. “Aye, you are probably right.”

“Surely you had already thought of this before you came to me. You are not stupid, Laren.”

A cormorant flew low, its thick dark wing a brief shadow over her face, then gone. She said as she looked after it, “I wanted you, and I didn't want to think about a future that had no more texture than those clouds yon. I wanted to know what it was like, this joining between a man and a woman. You are a beautiful man and you have been more kind to me than not. Aye, I wanted you to show me what it was like.”

“You are blunt and it pleases me. I haven't liked the deception between us. No, don't disagree with me. I understand why you refused to tell me about you and Taby. There was much at stake, too much. You are like the slave who was captured by Rolf the Viking, in your skald's tale. I will keep my word always, Laren. Do you trust me completely now?”

“Aye, I do. I must, but I'm afraid, Merrik.”

“There is no reason now.” He fell silent, just looking down at her hand held in his. He looked down at her silently for a long moment. Then he began to rub his hands rhythmically up and down her arms. “Do you want me to discover if this Prince Askhold still needs a wife?”

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his mouth. He was so surprised he simply didn't move, didn't respond. She smiled up at him. “I would wish him thrice wed, all three of his wives malleable sheep who will give him more children than he can count, more children than a sultan in Miklagard, all of them female. There can be nothing more wondrous than kissing you, Merrik.”

“Then you give your loyalty to me? You will wed me?”

“Aye.”

“And if I wish to keep Taby with me, as my son?”

He was testing her, but it was only right. She'd tested him enough. Now it could only be the truth, nothing else. “I must return his birthright to him. He must be trained by Rollo to be the future ruler of Normandy, to be the heir, if something happens to William. You know well, as do I, that death is over your shoulder every moment of every day. The future of Normandy is important. There must be heirs. As for myself, surely what I choose to do isn't all that important.”

“It is to me.” He kissed her then, lifting her until her feet dangled above the wooden pier, and drew her close. He kissed her until she was frantic with need, until she was arching against him, pressing and pressing even more.

He said even as he laughed against her warm mouth, “Do you promise that once I have meat back on your bones, you will not become fat?”

Her laughter rang out and she kissed his mouth, his nose, his cheek, her hands cupping around his head, her fingers smoothing his thick eyebrows. “I swear,” she said between kisses. “Since I am such a good cook, do you promise your belly won't stick out over your belt?”

“I swear it. Now, do not worry about Taby. All will be well, it is my vow to you.”

She believed him. He was a man like her uncle
—strong and intelligent, a man of honor, a man to trust, a man to embrace in all ways. She remembered her father, Hallad, the same way, yet he had killed her mother and fled. She flinched at the memory, as she always did.