The Heart's Warrior (5 page)

Her mind whirled. Her father loved her and wouldn’t give her to Jonas.

Or would he?

Looking at the women where they hid behind tall

looms and chests, she sought to reassure them. “He’s gone now. You can come out.”

Letta wrung her hands and whined in a pitiful voice.

“I’m so afraid. My dead babes aren’t cold in the grave before their murderers come into my home. Your own brother’s death must be avenged.”

Kerstin flinched at the reminder. “You’re right,

Letta, but Tostig died in battle against the Sigurdssons 26

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and the Eirikssons murdered your children.”

She tried to place a comforting hand on the woman’s arm but Letta jerked away. “I’ll grow old and childless because of the Sigurdssons. I watched my own children trampled to death.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Letta. But it wasn’t the Sigurdssons that caused the death of your babes.”

Kerstin’s voice trembled with the memory of Letta’s face and her heart-wrenching screams when the men carried her children’s bodies back to her that fateful day last autumn. Letta had not seemed level in the head since.

“Once Thorir returns from trading, you will have

more children,” Kerstin said.

As if that could ever take the place of the two

precious souls Letta had lost. Oh, how Kerstin wished her big brother would come home right away. Thorir could calm his wife. Letta always listened to him, and maybe he could also reason with Father.

Thorir would surely take Kerstin’s side. He and her other brothers had always doted on her, protecting her.

Though her elder brothers had a different mother than herself, Kerstin loved them all; but they weren’t here and she must be strong.

“Sigurdssons! Eirikssons!” Letta spat with distaste.

“One is just as bad as the other. They both bring death to us.” Kerstin agreed as she turned her head in the direction of the door. Resisting the urge to go outside and eavesdrop on the men proved difficult. They made plans that would affect the rest of her life. What would King Hakon do when Alrik refused the wedding match?

The women returned to their chores but they paused often, their eyes wide as they listened to the angry voices coming from outside the house.

Minin, who was Knut’s wife, ceased stirring a

fragrant stew as a low boom of thunder reached their ears. It joined the dull thrum of angry men. Alrik’s voice roared in fury above the rest.

Kerstin’s breath caught in her throat. Would the

battle begin anew? Father was in no condition to fight. He could be easily killed.

“Surely Alrik won’t give you to Jonas Sigurdsson.”

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Leigh Bale

Letta sidled up to Kerstin as she set her father’s drinking horn on the table.

It sounded like a sacrificial offer. Indeed, Kerstin felt that was just what she would be if they forced her to marry Jonas the Strong Arm.

Drawing herself up, Kerstin jutted her chin and tried to still her trembling hands. “My father knows I love Elezer.”

“Elezer can do nothing if your father decides to break the betrothal,” Minin remarked. “And perhaps it would be a good thing. Beware of Elezer’s handsome face and kind ways, mistress. I’ve heard the men say he tends to be devious and selfish, interested only in a woman’s soft body, comforts and wealth. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Kerstin gasped. “You know nothing of Elezer’s

goodness. How dare you carry such tales to my ears?”

Minin shrugged and Kerstin slammed a jug of wine

onto the table, sloshing the contents across wooden bowls.

The soft drumbeat of raindrops struck the roof of the hall.

The storm had broken and would quickly end, but for Kerstin, it went on and on. She longed to take her fears to Elezer and had no doubt of his devotion. He would help her plead their case to her father.

Sighing deeply, she glanced at her sister-in-law, who cowered in one corner of the room. “Letta, please fetch the iron candle holders while I see about more ale.”

Letta seemed not to hear. When the thunder boomed again, her eyes filled with a strange, wild light. Letta grabbed a carving knife from the trestle table and headed for the door. “I will
not
welcome these murderers into my home, nor allow your father to wed you to a savage man.”

Kerstin hurried after her, catching the woman as she reached the door. Kerstin yanked the blade from Letta’s clenched fist. As much as the thought of killing Jonas and the other Sigurdssons appealed to her, what would it accomplish other than Letta’s death? “Nay, Letta, you mustn’t try such a thing. You are crazed with grief.”

Losing her balance, Letta bumped into the tall loom against the wall. As if the thump knocked her senses back into her brain, Letta burst into tears and covered her face with her hands.

“Oh, what am I to do?” she cried. “We will all be 28

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killed. My poor dead babes.”

Kerstin’s throat constricted. Little Elyn and Ari. She remembered their soft hands and gurgling laughs as they pulled her hair or tried to steal sweet meats from the cooking pot. How could she fault the desperation of a grieving mother?

“Shh,” she said, hugging Letta close against her

breast as she smoothed her pale hair. “I know your misery, Letta. Come with me, and I’ll give you a soothing tisane to help you sleep.”

As she led Letta away, Kerstin wondered about

tomorrow. Swallowing her own tears, she tried to be brave. Alrik would make the right decision, wouldn’t he?

She must trust him.

“You realize,” Letta whispered as they walked to the back rooms, “I could kill Jonas Sigurdsson, and he would die, like his brother did.” She laughed in shrill, harsh gasps.

Kerstin froze as the woman dropped onto her

sleeping furs. What had Letta said? She must have heard wrong. A horrible lump settled in Kerstin’s stomach.

Could Letta have killed Bjorn? Did she know enough about potions to have mixed the poison that took his life?

Letta drew herself into a tight ball beneath the warm furs on her sleeping couch. Keening a quiet lullaby in a singsong voice, she rocked back and forth. Pity blanketed Kerstin’s heart as she pushed the unholy thoughts aside.

“Don’t be afraid, Letta. I will protect you.”

“But who will protect you?” Letta’s voice came as a whisper, trembling over Kerstin with such intensity that she flinched.

It took a moment to recover. “Rest now, Letta.”

****

spotted Minin, she pulled her aside. “Letta is still upset.

Watch her carefully while I’m gone.”

With a croon of sympathy, Minin nodded.

Kerstin took fresh clothes, linen towel and lavender-scented soap and stepped outside the hall. To her surprise, the men were gone, probably adjourned to the counseling hall farther up the mountain. She could only guess at their mood. Jonas Sigurdsson must have

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Leigh Bale

accompanied them.

Water dripped off the eaves of the longhouse and the air smelled of rain. Black clouds filled the sky, not at all finished with their fury. Stepping over puddles, she scurried across the yard to the bathing hut.

A large stone and wood building, the hut contained an outer chamber lined with wooden benches. The inner room contained more benches and a fire pit, the hearth cold now, and dark. Great shadows played across the walls as Kerstin hastened her task.

She jerked her filthy garments from her body and

sighed with relish now that she could finally lather her arms with the fragrant soap. She poured tepid water over herself, then ran her hands over her legs. Sudsy bubbles dripped down her calves. Lifting each leg in turn, she rested a foot upon a bench as she rinsed.

It felt good to cleanse away the blood and sweat of battle from her body. A throaty moan escaped her as she flexed her stiff shoulders. How she wished she could wash the events of the day away. She didn’t hurry, wanting to enjoy this time alone before she had to witness Jonas’s wrath when her father told him there would be no

marriage.

After she scrubbed her face, Kerstin lathered and rinsed her hair, then toweled herself dry. She dressed in a long-sleeved, ankle-length tunic of fine pleated linen. She had dyed the soft fabric a deep golden color from the leaves and stems of agrimony. Over this, she wore a calf-length woolen pinafore dyed a vivid yellow from the flowers of chamomile. At each shoulder, she fastened a gilded brooch, decorated with intricate animal patterns—

a gift from her father when he took her trading in York last summer. Then, she combed out her hair until it crackled with life.

Letting her head fall back, she closed her eyes as relief washed over her. How good it felt to be attired like a woman again. She dreaded returning to the hall and wished she could remain here, alone. No doubt Minin would have her hands full if Letta awoke and decided to cause more mischief.

Kerstin sighed, feeling the weight of her

responsibilities.

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31

Bending, she picked up her dirty clothes. A

movement caught her eye and she paused, peering into the deep shadows across the room. She made out the figure of a large man reclining upon one of the benches.

The figure shifted and she gasped.

Jonas!

He sat silent. Kerstin sucked in a sharp breath,

clutching her soiled clothes to her breast. How long had he been watching her?

His bright eyes gleamed in the shadows. Beside him on the floor lay his sword. She wasn’t surprised. Even when he took his leisure, he kept his weapon close at hand.

Embarrassment flooded her cheeks with heat and hot prickles tingled down her spine. “Why are you here?”

Reclining on one elbow, he lifted a foot to rest upon the bench. His free arm relaxed across his raised knee.

Cast in shadow, his expression looked fierce, his blue eyes sparkling.

“I came here for the same purpose as you. To wash away the stench of battle and to be alone for a time.” His voice sounded low and husky.

“You should have made yourself known to me.”

His long body unfolded as he stood up. Kerstin’s eyes widened. The movement must have jarred his injured shoulder and he flinched as if it pained him.

Jonas wore a soft, long-sleeved shirt, which molded his torso like a second skin and defined the muscles of his arms and chest. He had tied a bathing cloth about his lean waist to hide his heavy loins and Kerstin’s mouth rounded as she took a step backward.

She glanced at the doorway on the other side of the room, realizing she would have to pass by him to reach it.

Trapped, like a caged animal. Her gaze drifted back to him. His eyes never wavered from hers and he appeared to be more pleased than vexed. “I didn’t mean to spy on you, little Kerstin. You were so intent upon your chore, I thought to let you finish bathing in peace. But I won’t speak a lie and say I didn’t enjoy the sight. I am a man, after all.”

Kerstin’s mouth dropped open. His confession filled 31

Leigh Bale

her with confusion, something she hadn’t expected. He was toying with her. “Do you think to flatter me with compliments?”

“I merely speak what is on my mind. A man doesn’t want an old crone when he takes a wife.”

She grit her teeth. “You know nothing about me.”

Jonas shrugged lazily, then paled and grimaced, as if the movement pained him. “I know most accused you of murdering my brother. Only a fool would trust you. And I am no fool.”

“And I will never trust you.”

“It’s just as well, Witch.” He spoke in a placid tone.

His accusations cut her deep. She longed for people to see her for the healer she was, not a witch. A volcano of anger and frustration simmered inside her, building up until she shook with it, ready to explode. “You are nothing more than a mercenary. Who are you to speak to me of honor?”

Kerstin edged toward the door. If he attacked, she had no weapon. Why had she left her dagger inside the hall? Even if she screamed, her father’s men wouldn’t hear her.

He took a step closer.

“Stay back!” She held out a hand to ward him off.

Jonas stood in the shadows, his gaze fixed upon her face. Kerstin longed to kick him, but didn’t dare get that close. She remembered how he had caught her in the forest, quick and light on his feet.

She took another step toward the door. He also

stepped forward and her heart sank. “My father will kill you if you touch me.”

He shook his head and his rich laughter filled the room. “I don’t think so.”

“Then I will kill you myself.”

His white teeth flashed with a chilling smile. “I accept your challenge, Kerstin. It’ll be entertaining to see if I can prevent such a tragedy from occurring while I bring you pleasure.”

Another step toward the doorway. “I will find no

pleasure in you.”

“Ah,” he breathed as he also moved closer. “Perhaps Elezer hasn’t been a generous lover. What has he taught 32

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you, Kerstin? Are you still chaste?”

Her eyes narrowed with fury. How dare he ask her

such intimate questions? “Like me, Elezer is a Christian and cares for my feelings. You are a vile heathen who believes in nothing but pagan gods.”

He came closer and Kerstin eyed him. She must

move fast or be ensnared.

“I assure you, Kerstin, I can be most gentle. And when I’m finished, you’ll have no doubt that I am a man and you are my woman.”

Kerstin felt her cheeks flush. In sudden panic, she tried to dart past him. He simply stepped to the side and she ran straight into his solid chest, jarring his injured shoulder. A low groan came from his throat. Now he must let her go.

Jonas enfolded her shuddering body in his iron-hewed arms.

“Let me go!” She struggled to free herself and felt his chest quake with laughter.

In the forest, she had wondered if his eyes would crinkle and sparkle when he smiled. Aye, they did indeed, but his amusement infuriated her. She managed to pull one of her arms loose and drew back her fist, striking his injured shoulder. He grunted, showing a pained frown.