Ragnar the Just (Ragnar the Dane #3) (15 page)

Mildrith
took care of the home and Dalla
while Lini loitered around, helping her when she needed an extra pair of hands, such as when she was weaving or lifting the heavy cook pot. He still slept in bed with Mildrith while Kjartan stayed on the bearskin couch, but he woke every night shaking with fear and she calmed him. He knew he’d have to go back to the forge at some point but he couldn’t yet.

“They’re more subdued these days,” Kjartan remarked at supper.

“Who?”
Mildrith nursed Dalla while eating her stew.

“The men in the fields.
They don’t even insult me anymore. I think they’re scared of me.”

Lini snorted
and scratched the itchy, short hair at the back of his head.

“And the Huskarls are, too. Ragnar said he and Steinar had real problems training them this year, but
now their ring leader’s gone, they’re calming down
. He said he wishes I was still there, because Bjarni won’t be back for a few weeks.”

“That’s great. You’re such a hero,” said Lini sarcastically. “If only they knew the truth, eh?”

“What fucking truth?”

“Sh! Dalla’s nearly asleep,” hissed Mildrith. “Can’t you two kiss and make up?”

The men looked away from each other.

*
 
*
  *

Later that evening, there was a loud knocking on the door.

“Who’s there?” Kjartan shouted from his bearskin nest.

“Ragnar.”

Kjartan opened the door cautiously, but nearly shut it again when he saw Ragnar had four Huskarls in uniform with him, standing there in the light drizzle of rain.

“What’s this all about? We were asleep.”

“Did you murder Styrkar?” Ragnar got straight to the point. “We’ve found his body.”

“Er -
”

Lini appeared behind him, yawning.

“Yes, I did,” said Kjartan forcefully. “I killed him.”

“But -
” said Lini.

“Keep out of this.”

“You’ll have to come with us to the Jarl’s hall.”

In the moonlight, Ragnar’s expression was inscrutable, despite the droplets of rain running into his eyes.

“Alright.”

“We know you did it,” said one of the other Huskarls. “You’ll
have to be punished, you
sensor
-
”

“Quiet!” barked Ragnar. “Kjartan, you’ll have to be bound.”

He presented his wrists, avoiding Ragnar’s eyes.

“They can’t take you!”
exclaimed Lini. “I -
”

“What do you care
anyway? Go back to bed, for the Gods’ sake.”

Mildrith appeared and put her arm round Lini.
“What’s happening?”

Ragnar explained tersely and they took Kjartan away into the drizzly, grey night.

*
 
*
  *

They put Kjartan in the room always used for those awaiting trial, which was sparsely furnished with a table, benches at the side, a torch to give light
,
and a dirt floor. He’d been here before, when he was on trial for the murder of Eadbald. How long ago that seemed, and how he and his life had changed. Back then, the crime had been all about money; this one about revenge.

Two Huskarls were guarding him -
one a trainee, a former friend of Styrkar. It was easy to frighten him. Kjartan only had to make a sudden movement and he jumped.

The other man was stolid and unshakeable.

“Don’t waste your time on me. I don’t scare easily,” he said. “I can’t believe you got away with the last murder. I
can’t believe the Jarl, Steinar and Ragnar were so soft.” He spat. “Especially considering what sort of man you are now. Or should I say, woman.”

Kjartan shrugged.

*
 
*
  *

“It’s weird,” said Ragnar as he got into bed with Aelfwyn later. “I expected Silverhair to resist, escape, be aggressive when we went to get him, but he just said ‘alright’ and came along with us.”

“It’s not like him,” she agreed, cuddling up. “You’re so cold. Let me warm you.”

“Mm.”
He wrapped his arms round her. “It’s like the fight’s gone out of him.”

“Let’s not talk about him. I’m so tired. Let’s sleep.”

They snuggled down contentedly, until one of their little children woke and started crying again.

*
 
*
  *

“Why can’t I see my husband?” Mildrith stood at the doorway to the Jarl’s hall, her way blocked by two Huskarls.

“Er – he – er …
” stuttered one.

“Is he injured?”

“No. He doesn’t want to see you.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t know.”

“But I might never see him again! He’s going to be tried and p
robably executed, or exiled and -
”

“Listen!” The senior Huskarl put his hands on her shoulders and glared into her face. “We can’t force him to see you, so better just go home, housewife.”

Mildrith flinched, but stared back at him. He wouldn’t relent though, so she turned and trudged back home.

*
 
*
  *

“Why don’t you want to see your wife?” asked the older guard.

Kjartan shrugged.

“It was your female wife, not your male one, by the way.” His tone wasn’t altogether sneering, more resigned.

“Fuck off.”

“Why did you kill Styrkar?”

He didn’t answer. He was thinking about his ‘male wife’. Why hadn’t Lini come to visit? Was he spending his time fucking Mildrith? They suited each other; it was probably better they were together and he was out of the way. He’d heard Lini wake up in the night, terrified, and Mildrith whispering to him, comforting him. He’d lain on the heap of bearskins, desperate to go over and comfort him too, but hadn’t wanted to interfere.

*
 
*
  *

At home, Lini was deep in thought. He helped Mildrith with the cloth weaving now, to free her for other tasks. He still only left the home infrequently so liked to help out there to keep busy.

His mind was preoccupied with Styrkar. He had deserved death. He was a cruel, perverted demon. How he wished the rape had never happened. Why had he worked alone in the forge that day without waiting for Kjartan? What bad decisions he’d made lately. Allowing
himself
to be attacked,
then having sex with another man’s wife. No wonder Kjartan despised him. Both of those things were not how a respectable Dane should live.

But Kjartan was a rapist
and he deserved a punishment. Surely it would only be a fine for what he’d done to Styrkar, or would the Jarl favour exile? He didn’t know what to think anymore. His thoughts were banging about in his skull like trapped flies. One minute he thought one thing, the next minute, another.

Maybe he was going insane.

The trial

“So, here we are again, Kjartan,” said Jarl Thorvald the next day. “For the second time in two years you are accused of murder.”

Kjartan stood in front of him, hands tied, head bowed. The cool wind whipped his unwashed hair, dark with dirt, into his face.

“You were seen throwing the body into the fenland, but unfortunately for you, it didn’t submerge, and Styrkar was clutching your seax to him in the grip of death. It is well known that seax belongs to you. Were you so arrogant you thought you’d escape justice again? What have you to say for yourself?”

“Nothing.”

Lini and Mildr
ith sat together in the crowd. T
hey looked like they were holding hands, while Dalla wriggled on her mother’s knee.

“I have lost patience with you. You evaded sentencing when you murdered Eadbald, and not only that, you absconded with my wife. It was only your heroic intervention with the wolf cult last year which made me decide to let you
return. And of course your marriage to the shoemaker’s unfortunate widow.” He gestured to Mildrith.
“But now you ha
ve murdered a respected Huskarl
who was in the process of being trained to fill the very gaps left by those murdered by the wolf cult.  What is your defence? Why did you murder Styrkar?”

“He was taunting me, calling me
ergi
. I grew tired of it and killed him. He deserved it. He was a coward.”

The Jarl paused, tapping
his fingers on the table, as
the crowd laughed, jeered, and tutted while pulling their cloaks round
themselves
in the autumn wind.

“You’d be justified if that accusation was false, but I have to say, it isn’t. You live with Lini and Mildrith, but it is well known that you and Lini are lovers. Styrkar was one of the bravest Huskarls and a promising novice.”

Kjartan shrugged. Everyone would be shocked when Lini and Mildrith married after he’d been executed. He was pleased to think his lover’s reputation would be repaired.

“Arnbjorn, please enlighten us.”

The law sayer stepped forward.

“For the murder of a man in cold blood, the punishment is execution or exile, especially when the victim is a respected
person of the village, a soldier who co
uld contribute much to society.
For someone who has murdered before, the punishment should be more severe. In a case where the accused has escaped prior punishment, he should also be more harshly disciplined.”

“I cannot think of a case where a murderer has escaped punishment,” said the Jarl. His new wife Rachel sat beside him, glaring at Kjartan, her almost black eyes unnerving him. The Jarl continued talking, asking the twelve Huskarls to vote on the verdict, but Kjartan’s attention wandered.

He was reminded of the last time when he had been on trial with the Jarl’s former wife, Yngvild. How he’d loved her, but he’d been unceremoniously discarde
d by her in favour of another a
fter everything he’d done for her. He looked over at Lini. Another who didn’t love him
anymore.

“Kjartan.
Pay attention!” barked the Jarl. “The Huskarls are unanimous. I must sentence you to execution, Kjartan Flokisson. To be carried out within the week.”

The crowd cheered. Some of the Huskarls, friends of Styrkar, grinned at each other. Lini gasped in horror, shaken out of the daze he’d been submerged in since the rape.

Kjartan nodded. He didn’t care what happened now. Lini didn’t love him, so nothing mattered. He could live happily with Mildrith instead. And Dalla loved Lini better than she loved her own father.

Two Huskarls took Kjartan by the arms and prepared to take him away.

Lini stepped forward.

“My lord,” said Ragnar to the Jarl, indicating the amber smith.

“Yes, Lini?
You have something to say?”

“I have. I killed Styrkar.”

The crowd gasped. The autumn-bright leaves of the trees waved in the wind, as if they were cheering Lini’s statement.

“Shush!” said Kjartan. Why was Lini making this worse?

“Don’t shush me! I want to tell the truth.”

“Why did you kill him?” asked the Jarl.

“Because – because -
he raped me.”

More gasps and jeers from the crowd.

“Tell me what happened,” demanded the Jarl, his eyebrows raised.

“He attacked me at my forge. He knocked me out, tied me to the table and raped me, so I got the knife from my boot and stabbed him to death.”

The crowd shouted in uproar and the Huskarls had to walk round to keep order while the scene flashed unavoidably through Lini’s mind.

*
 
*
  *

It hadn’t taken long for Styrkar to jerk to a standstill. Every thrust had felt like he was stabbing Lini, but at last he drew himself out, panting and rubbing his cock.

“Gods,” he murmured. “You won’t forget that.”

Lini was shaking with pain, shock and fear. Styrkar wasn’t going to do it again, was he? But luckily he was bending unsteadily to pull up his trousers.

Suddenly, Lini’s wrist shackles snapped. He hadn’t realised he’d been pulling so hard on them. Styrkar didn’t seem to have noticed. He was now crouching on the floor, panting. He’d obviously had far too much to drink and was still getting over Kjartan beating him up.