Viking (19 page)
Garm the Black clasped Fiona’s hands warmly. “I’ve wanted to thank you from the moment my daughter told me how you risked your life to help her. Had I known of Rolo the Bold’s abusive nature I would never have allowed Rika to marry him.”
A handsome, statuesque woman approached Fiona. “I am Garda, Rika’s mother. My daughter is dear to us. I’d like to add my thanks to that of my husband. Welcome to our home.”
“We were so worried about you,” Rika said. “Tyra told us of your … your loss. I know it was a blow, but I’m glad to see you have recovered. When the weather turned bitter, we feared you had been caught in the storm.”
“We waited the storm out,” Fiona said. “Thorne
hunted for our food, and there was wood in the forest to feed our fire.”
Aren, observant as always, noted the bloodstains on Thorne’s clothing. “What happened? Am I right in assuming your journey wasn’t without mishap?”
“We encountered a pack of hungry wolves,” Fiona explained. “We escaped without serious injury, thanks to Thorne’s skill with battleaxe and sword.”
“Our travel was happily tame compared to yours,” Aren said.
“Come, sit by the fire and tell us everything,” Garm urged. “You must be exhausted.”
Garm the Black was a large man whose white hair and beard presented a deceptively benign facade. He was called the Black because when he was young his hair had been black as pitch, which was unusual in a land of blond men and women. He was dressed in rich brocade robes befitting a wealthy jarl, but there was nothing soft about the hard-featured, steely-eyed man. Fiona thought he would make a formidable enemy.
Fiona accepted a mug of hot mulled wine, sipping and listening as Thorne related the trials of their journey.
“Rika told us you sold your own wife into slavery,” Garm charged harshly. “Is that true, Thorne the Relentless?”
“Nay,” Thorne denied. “Fiona is dear to me. I gave no such order. Rolo and Bretta lied. They feared Fiona and wanted to be rid of her. Think you I would sell my own child into slavery?”
Garda regarded him through keen blue eyes, apparently
satisfied that he told the truth. “You and your party are welcome to shelter with us as long as you please,” she said. “Rika has grown fond of Fiona and Tyra, and will be happy for the company.”
“Thank you,” Thorne said graciously. “Fiona and Tyra knew they would be made welcome when they set out for your hall. We accept your hospitality. I intend to take Fiona home to Man this summer, but first I have unfinished business with Rolo the Bold.”
“Ah,” Garm said, smiling. “We are of the same mind where Rolo is concerned. He sent my daughter home without her dowry. All the jewelry of silver and gold, the farm animals and land she brought with her to the marriage should have remained her personal property. There were many ells of wool and linen, bedding, even a spinning wheel and loom. Yet Rolo sent Rika home a pauper.” His face hardened. “I will give him a chance to return them, but if he refuses, I intend to take them by force.”
“I had to leave everything behind, Father; ’twas the only way Rolo would let me go,” Rika claimed. “I promised he could keep my dowry, that you wouldn’t demand its return.”
“You did what was necessary to save your life, daughter,” Garm said kindly. “I cannot fault you. But you had no right to speak for me. Rolo mistreated you. When you divorced him, he should have returned your dowry. I cannot allow his vile treatment of you to go unpunished.”
“And I cannot allow him to go on living,” Thorne said harshly.
“What about Bretta?” Aren wondered. “She is as guilty as her brother.”
Thorne smiled grimly. “I will think of something appropriate for Bretta.”
“Then we are in accord,” Garm said.
Garm’s house was larger than most homesteads, with an exceptionally large hall and central hearth. Curtained alcoves spaced around the hall served as private sleeping quarters for important guests. Thorne and Fiona were given one of the larger alcoves, while Aren and Tyra shared another. The remaining alcoves were occupied by Garm’s ranking warriors. Slaves, servants and lower-ranking warriors slept on benches and the floor. Only Garm and his wife and Rika had private sleeping chambers.
Fiona was pleased that she and Thorne were to have a modicum of privacy in their bed of furs behind the curtain. She’d had her fill of sleeping on benches beside karls and thralls. She’d finally come to accept the fact that Thorne wasn’t going to leave her, that he loved her and would do nothing to harm her. Brann’s prophesy had finally come to pass. The sorcerer had read the stars, interpreted the runes and accurately foretold her future.
“What are you thinking?” Thorne asked one night as they lay in their bed behind the curtain. “You’re so quiet.”
“I’m thinking how much I love you and how dreadfully I miss Brann. He never let me forget that a Viking invader would steal my heart. I didn’t want
to believe him, but to my knowledge he’d never made a prophesy that didn’t come true.”
“I’m grateful I was the Viking who stole your heart. Tell me one thing, love. Did you really bewitch me that first day I saw you on Man?”
“Perhaps I did,” Fiona teased. “Or maybe Brann placed a spell on the first Viking to set eyes upon me. Does it matter?”
“Nay, witch or no, you’re the woman I want. I didn’t have to marry you, you know. You were mine; I could have taken you whenever I pleased and no one would have interfered. I sought out a priest because I wanted to please you. I didn’t understand it at the time, but I knew it was something I had to do. I blamed it on your black magic. I was right in one respect: you have indeed enchanted me, and I hope it never ends.”
They made love that night, sweet, tender love. Thorne was so gentle it brought tears to Fiona’s eyes. She was happier than she’d been in a very long time. Of course she still mourned her child, but she knew there would be another child to love one day.
Later, as they rested in one another’s arms, Thorne said, “Do you recall telling me that you hated me?”
Fiona sighed. “At that time I truly thought I did. I believed you had arranged for me to be sold to Roar. I had just lost my child and blamed you for my loss.”
“How do you feel now?”
“You know how I feel. I have loved you for a very long time, Thorne. Even if Brann hadn’t told
me I would love a Viking, I would have loved you.”
“I wish …”
“What do you wish?” Fiona wondered.
“I wish Thorolf would relent where you’re concerned. I sent Aren to inform my brother of Rolo’s deceitful act and to tell him where to find me should he need me.”
“Aye, Tyra is going to miss him while he’s gone. What do you think Thorolf will do?”
“Naught, I hope. At least not for the time being. I just wanted to be sure he’ll fight at my side when I confront Rolo.”
“I wish you’d just let it go,” Fiona sighed. “ ’Tis enough that we’re leaving this land.”
Thorne’s expression hardened. “Vikings do not forget.”
In the days that followed, Thorne joined Garm’s warriors on frequent hunting expeditions while Fiona pitched in with women’s work. There was always something to do with so large a household to provide for, including spinning, making clothing for household members, and overseeing the food supplies that had to last during the long, dark winter months. Herbs had to be made into medicines and salves to cure the sick.
Fiona took charge of the family medicine chest. She spent countless hours pointing out the special qualities of herbs that were unfamiliar to Garda, for Garda was not a true healer like Fiona and had only limited knowledge.
* * *
When Aren returned a fortnight later he was not alone. Thorne was preparing to join a group of men for a day’s hunting when the door opened and several men trooped inside. One was Aren, another was Thorolf. Thorne flung his bow and arrow aside and went to welcome his brother.
“Thorolf! Odin’s bones, what brings you here?” They clasped arms, clearly glad to see one another. “I sent Aren to inform you of my whereabouts, not to bring you forth from your warm home.”
“I was growing bored,” Thorolf said with a grin. “I left Ulm in charge and decided to see what my big brother was up to.”
“I assume Aren told you what occurred at Rolo’s homestead.”
“Aye. ’Tis a despicable thing he did to you. I never approved of your infatuation with Fiona, but I’ve done a lot of thinking this winter. ’Twas wrong of me to deny you access to your own home because you refused to abandon the woman you obviously love. I don’t know whether Fiona bewitched you or not, but ’twas unfair of me to blame her for the ills our family suffered.” He licked moisture onto his lips, wondering how to begin. Finally he blurted out, “I’m sorry about the child, Thorne. Aren told me everything. There is no longer any doubt in my mind that the child was yours.”
A look of intense pain passed over Thorne’s face. “Aye, ’twas wrong of you,” he agreed. “Fiona never wished any of us ill. We hope there will be other children. Have you truly changed your mind about Fiona, Thorolf?”
“I will give Fiona the benefit of the doubt,” Thorolf said after a long pause. “She is your wife and deserves respect.”
“Come greet Fiona. Then you can tell me why you’re really here.”
Fiona watched with trepidation as Thorne and Thorolf approached from across the room. But this time she felt no enmity radiating from Thorolf. She sensed hesitancy and indecision, and for that improvement she was grateful. She smiled in genuine welcome, recalling the vision she’d seen of Thorolf and his family, and the fleeting glimpse of the woman he’d married.
“I’m a man who recognizes his mistakes, Fiona,” Thorolf began uncertainly. “You are Thorne’s wife, and are welcome to live in my hall with Thorne. As for the other”—his large shoulders rose in a shrug—“you may be a witch, and may have enchanted my brother, but it doesn’t matter so long as Thorne is satisfied with you.”
“Thank you, Thorolf,” Fiona said. “I’ve never meant your family any harm. I have no powers beyond those of a healer. Sometimes I’m allowed to see things,” she amended, “but my visions have never hurt anyone and on many occasions have been of help.”
Thorolf nodded, his attention suddenly diverted by the approach of Rika and her parents. Fiona noted his distraction and smiled when she saw him staring at Rika with intense interest. Thorne quickly introduced Thorolf to Garm and his family.
“Welcome to our home,” Garm said.
Thorolf’s gaze never left Rika’s blushing face. It was obvious to Fiona that the attraction was mutual. Even Garm noted the attention Thorolf was lavishing on Rika. Thorne appeared to be the only one oblivious to the couple’s interest in one another.
Garm got right to the point. “How long will you stay with us, Thorolf? Must you return to your wife and children right away?”
“I have neither wife nor children,” Thorolf admitted, “though ’tis long past time I took one. I will stay for a short visit. My brother and I have important matters to discuss.”
“Then I will give you privacy,” Garm said, guiding his wife and daughter away. Thorolf followed Rika’s progress across the hall until it became apparent that he was staring.
“Rika is an attractive woman,” he said thoughtfully.
“Rika may be young but she’s not weak,” Fiona replied. “She survived Rolo’s abuse and grew stronger from it. She will allow no man to abuse her again.”
Thorolf stiffened, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I will kill Rolo for what he did to her.”
“Nay,” Thorne said tightly. “You may have him only after I am finished with him.”
Thorolf frowned. “There will be nothing left after you finish with him. Aren told me that Rolo abused his wife. I hadn’t expected Rika to be so appealing,” he mused thoughtfully.
Thorne stared at him, finally understanding. “You are smitten with Rika.”
Fiona giggled. “Why are men so dense when it comes to love?”
“Love? I said nothing of love,” Thorolf returned shortly. “I merely find Rika appealing. Is she promised to anyone?”
“Garm has vowed that Rika could choose her own husband next time,” Fiona informed him. “She’s understandably shy of marriage. If you two will excuse me, I promised Rika I’d help salt meat the hunters brought in yesterday.”
Fiona moved away as Thorne and Thorolf settled on a nearby bench and promptly forgot her while they spoke together in low tones.
Rika and Tyra had already begun the salting process when Fiona arrived to help. “Thorne’s brother is a handsome man,” Rika said shyly.
“He admires you, too,” Fiona allowed. “ ’Tis time he took a wife.”
A hint of red crept up Rika’s throat. “I don’t know if I could make a man happy after Rolo. Or if I could even allow a man to … to …”
“With the right man you could,” Fiona ventured. “Not all men are like Rolo. But I truly don’t know if Thorolf is a gentle man. That is something you have to find out for yourself if you’re interested.”
The conversation ended when Garda joined them. “The winter will pass quickly with Thorne and Thorolf here to liven up the evenings,” Garda said happily. “ ’Tis been a long time since we’ve had such interesting company.”
“Has Thorolf agreed to stay?” Rika asked with more enthusiasm than was warranted.
“Your father thinks he’ll stay,” Garda said, regarding her daughter thoughtfully. “Does that please you?”
Rika’s cheeks burned. “It matters not to me whether he stays or goes.”
Fiona was not fooled, nor, she thought, was Rika’s mother. Fiona had been allowed a glimpse into the future and knew what the others did not.
That night one of the last storms of the winter roared down upon them with the ferocity of a ravening demon, making travel all but impossible. While virtually snowed in, Thorolf and Rika spent their evenings in a dark corner of the hall, their heads together, speaking in hushed voices.
Rika later confided to Fiona that she believed Thorolf was not like Rolo, but she still was hesitant to commit herself. She recalled that Rolo had seemed the perfect husband until he’d gotten her alone in his bedchamber; then he’d turned into a rapacious beast.
