Chapter Nine

“What?” Odaria pulled away. “I canna believe that. You wouldn’t do such a thing.”

He spun in the chair so he could face her. “I did not start the fire that killed them, but it was my fault. The gods took them from me as punishment.”

“For what? What terrible deed could you have done?”

“Sitja and I will tell you of it.”

He took another drink for courage. The memories flooded over him. The smoke, the burnt smell of wood in the air, the feel of Rurik’s tiny, stiff body cradled in his arms …

“I went away, fara-i-viking. Gretta begged me not to go, but I refused to listen. I had been inside for two long winter months with her and Rurik. I wished to get away for a while and have space.” He bowed his head. How could he so easily admit the shameful feelings he’d had toward his wife and only son?

“We sailed to Mikligardr—”

“Where is that? I have never heard of it.”

“It is a place far away. The weather is scorching hot, and everything is covered with sand.” He licked his lips. “They have many open-air markets there, where one can purchase anything. While I was out for a walk, I met a girl. She wore brightly colored thin silk veils and nothing more. She was quite enticing.” He trailed his fingers over the rim of his drinking horn. “I spent the afternoon with her.”

“Doing what?”

He glanced at Odaria and arched an eyebrow. Was she that innocent? “Being unfaithful to my wife, who waited for me at home with my newborn son,” he growled. “I was weak and broke my vows.”

Odaria looked down. “Oh, I see.”

“It was the only time in our six years of marriage,” he explained in a rush. “Gretta was unable to have … intimate relations … for two months before Rurik came and then after … It was no excuse, but I ached for a woman.”

Odaria nodded. “I’ve heard that men have certain needs.”

He emptied his drinking horn and set it down on the table. His head started to buzz, and his tongue felt numb and heavy. By Thor, he was drunker than he’d realized.

“After I left the girl, I was overcome with remorse. I went through the market, buying up gifts—necklaces, rings, gold, jewels, silks, carpets, anything I could lay my hands on to give to Gretta. I thought if I gave her treasures, it would make up for what I’d done.” He bit his bottom lip and swallowed hard as tears welled. “I returned home the morning after the fire. It was then that I learned Gretta and Rurik were dead.”

He paused and swallowed the lump in his throat. “So you can see why today reminded me of my loss. The burned cottage, the small shroud-wrapped body, the grave … I dug Rurik’s grave and wept like a woman for him. The men in the village had to drag me away.”

Too ashamed to look at Odaria, he gazed down at his hands. What would she think of him after what he’d just confessed?

“I took what I had for granted, and the gods snatched it away from me. I swear on my soul that I will never make that mistake again. That was the last journey I took, until I came here. I lost everything I loved, and for what? A few hours of pleasure in the arms of a woman whose name I cannot recall?” He shook his head.

“But the gods were not finished with my punishment. The woman at the market was the last woman I have been able to make relations with. For three years, my manhood’s lain useless and flat.”
“’Tis not true. I’ve felt your hardness against—”

“Ja, now.” He looked at Odaria and smiled. “Somehow, my little witch, you have cured me. The moment I dragged you into the cookroom that first night, I felt the sword between my legs stir to life. You have awakened it again. Perhaps it was your innocence or your magic powers, but it was something about you, Odaria, that cured me. I’ve tried to lie with other women, but nothing ever happened.”

Odaria rolled her eyes. “Rothgar, you are drunk and have no sense of what you are rambling on about.” She clasped his biceps. “Come upstairs and rest. ’Tis late.”

“Neinn.” He yanked his arm from her grip. “Not tonight. She will be waiting for me the moment I fall asleep.”

“Who shall be waiting? You speak in riddles.”

“Gretta. She haunts me.” He looked at Odaria. “Are the dead truly watching over us, or am I mad with guilt? Sometimes I feel Gretta nearby. Late at night I can sense her, and when I fall asleep, she comes to me in my dreams holding Rurik at her breast. It is maddening. Over the years I’ve learned that when I drink enough, the liquor keeps her at bay. I pass into sleep and dream of nothing.”

Odaria placed her hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “What does she say? Tell me what happens in your dreams.”

He sighed. He hadn’t intended to confess this to Odaria, but the mead had loosened his tongue. “Each night is always the same. She calls to me and tells me that Rurik is with her. She says she loves me. Why won’t she leave me alone? Three years have passed. When will this torture end?”

He bowed his head. “If I could go back and change what happened, I would. I’d give my life for theirs in an instant. If only I had listened to Gretta and had never gone on that trip, none of this would have happened. Doesn’t she know how sorry I am?” He pressed his eyes shut and fought back the tears threatening to spill over.

A second later, he felt Odaria’s cool fingers massaging his aching neck and shoulders. “Let it out. It will be all right.”

He relaxed as she rubbed his stiff muscles. Her touch was stirring yet comforting.

“She is not haunting you. She is trying to tell you that she has your son with her and that she’s keeping him safe. She’s taking care of him on the other side. He’s not alone.”

“You are certain?”

“Aye. Would you doubt the word of a witch? I deal in dreams. The dead find it easier to speak to us while we are asleep. Your wife wants you to know that they are in a better place, and ’tis time you let her go. Holding on to the guilt is what keeps her coming back to you at night. The next time she visits, tell her you understand and that you love them both and want them to move on.”

“Will it work?”

She nodded. “It may take a few tries for her to hear you, but she will listen.” Odaria kissed his cheek. “And you, my brave Norseman, are not a failure. You took care of Chester and me today. You are a good man … but one who’s had too much drink. Now come to bed,” she said, tugging on his arm.

“I can’t. I ache to be with you more than anything, but I’m drunk and I won’t function properly. I do not wish to disappoint you on your first time.”

To his surprise, she burst out laughing.

“Ye think I’m trying to get you upstairs so we can …” She giggled. “I’m flattered, but you are exhausted, and ’tis awful late. Mayhap tomorrow night we can finish what you started this afternoon.” She flashed him a mischievous smile. “But you need to sleep. You don’t want Karnik’s men coming in here at dawn and finding you slumped over the table, drunk to the world.”

“Ja, true. I’ve had more than enough dealings with Karnik today.” As he rose to his feet, he lost his balance and clutched the edge of the table for support. “Blessed Odin, I’ve swigged down too much bjorr.”

“No matter. I shall tend to you.”

He let Odaria take his hand and lead him upstairs. When he stumbled into the sleeping chamber, he flopped on the bed. Odaria yanked off his boots, and he rolled onto his side. She climbed into bed next to him and covered him with the blanket.

“Odaria, you must know—”

“You can tell me in the morn. Rest now.” She kissed his cheek and smoothed his hair away from his face. “Now go to sleep and dream of pleasant things.”

The room swirled as blackness closed in around him.

Odaria flipped onto her back and sighed. She’d been tossing and turning for hours, wide awake, and forced to listen to Rothgar’s drunken snores—throaty growls loud enough to wake the dead.

She stared at the wide-beamed ceiling. There was no point in trying to sleep. Even if Rothgar quieted down, she wouldn’t rest much. After venting her rage at the villagers, she’d slept away most of the evening. She never needed much sleep at night, anyway. When she was left to follow her own pattern, she often stayed up until the wee hours of the night and then napped during the day.

Quietly, so not to waken the noisy giant, she pulled back the bedclothes and slipped out of bed. She carried her boots as she opened the door and crept downstairs. A walk in the cool night air was just what she needed to settle her thoughts. The sun would not rise for hours, but the nearly full moon would give her plenty of light to see by.

She took a wedge of cheese from the cookroom and went outside. The midnight-blue sky was clear, and thousands of stars twinkled overhead. She inhaled the crisp air and listened to the deathly silence of the village surrounding her. Everyone else was sound asleep.

She walked to the front of the gathering hall and sat on a stone near the wall. Finally, she had some time to herself. She ate her cheese and stared at the moon as her mind wandered.

How could so much have happened to her in such a short amount of time? Her world had been flipped upside down. It seemed as if a lifetime had passed since the night she’d first met Rothgar.

Had the gods conspired to bring them together? If Rothgar hadn’t come here looking for Orvind and rescued her when he did, what would have happened to her? To think, three days ago she didn’t even know him, and now she had fallen in love with him.

She heard a twig snap to her left and spun toward the sound. A cloud passed over the moon, blanketing her in darkness. What had made that noise? She heard nothing. After a minute, she shrugged it off. An animal was probably prowling through the village looking for scraps from the cook fires. Poor Rothgar, he’d had so much tragedy in his life. His drunken confession had shocked her more than she let him know. To think that he’d been married and sired a son! What color was Gretta’s hair? Was she pretty? Had she known secret tricks to satisfy Rothgar during lovemaking?

Although she had a hundred questions she longed to ask him, she had thought better of it. Rothgar was in no mood to answer prying inquiries tonight. He must have loved Gretta deeply if he still mourned for her after three years. Did Rothgar wish he had Gretta beside him in bed, instead of her? She frowned. How could she compare with Gretta? Gretta had given Rothgar a son, and all she’d done for him was cook meals. Granted, she was a good cook and a fair housekeeper, but she didn’t understand Rothgar’s language or his customs. What would happen to her when Rothgar brought her home with him? She didn’t want to appear ignorant to the people in his village. Would they accept her or shun her?

Another noise to her left interrupted her thoughts. Whatever had made that sound was too large to be an animal. Her heart beat faster, and her skin prickled. She was not alone. Someone else was out here with her, lurking in the darkness.

She rose and looked for a stick or a rock to defend herself with, finding nothing. “I kin hear you,” she said, forcing her voice to sound strong. “Show yourself, coward.”

In a flash, a filthy hand clamped over her mouth. Someone grabbed her from behind and forced her to the ground. A heavy weight landed on top of her. She looked up and saw one of Karnik’s men in the shadowy moonlight. She hit his face and tried to scream, but it was no use. Her attacker was strong—and determined.

She kicked and fought wildly as she spotted someone looming over the man astride her. He held a large rock in his hands. Did they mean to bash in her head and take advantage of her while she lay helpless? She stared in horror as the second man came closer, raised the stone, and slammed it down on the other man’s skull.

The man on top of her slumped over and lay still. She shoved him away and scrambled to her feet, dazed but ready to fight. To her surprise, the man dropped the rock. As the moon came out from behind a cloud, she saw her rescuer’s features clearly. Although she’d only met him once, there was no mistaking who had saved her.

“Nordskog?”

He nodded, then spoke and pointed at the man lying on the ground. Was he dead? Probably. She glanced at Nordskog.

Rothgar had warned her that Nordskog was a vicious killer, but she hadn’t believed he was capable of doing such a thing until now. Despite his reputation, Nordskog had done something noble and saved her—if only to claim her as his own. Her mind flashed back to him clutching her to his chest and cutting off her hair. Now that they were alone, what would he do to her?

Her knees trembled, and she held her breath to calm herself. Now was not the time to give in to hysterics or start crying. Rothgar wasn’t here to help her. She had to help herself. Perhaps if she acted brave, Nordskog wouldn’t harm her. She squared her shoulders and pushed her fears aside, waiting to see what he’d do next.

Nordskog stomped his right foot on the ground, and she stared at him, confused. What was he doing?

He kicked the unconscious man, then pointed at his right leg and nodded a few times.

After a moment, she understood. In his own way, Nordskog had repaid her for tending to his injured leg.

Without a warning, he scooped her up onto his shoulder and carried her to the front of the gathering hall. He set her down, then slapped her buttocks hard. “Fara innan stokks!”

“What? I’ve got no idea what that means. And don’t ya touch—”

“Rothgar.” He opened the door and gave her a little shove.

There was no mistaking Nordskog’s actions. He wanted her to go back inside and stay with Rothgar. She didn’t even consider protesting. The gods only knew what would have happened to her if Nordskog hadn’t come along when he had. But why was he creeping around the village in the middle of the night?

“Rothgar.” She nodded and hurried inside. “See, I’m safe. Gut?”

“Ja,” Nordskog growled and shut the door.

She slumped against the door and closed her eyes. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, nearly drowning out the sounds of her ragged breathing. That had been close, too close.

Tears welled, and she bolted for the stairs. Her legs wobbled and threatened to collapse under her as she ran up to the bedchamber. She flung the door open, then closed, and locked it behind her. Rothgar lay on his back, snoring away as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

She kicked off her boots and slipped into bed, cuddling close against Rothgar’s broad chest. Lying next to him made her feel safe, as if nothing could ever harm her. He was all she had in the world, and she’d never leave his side again.

Rothgar would be furious with her if he ever found out what had happened—nay, nearly happened—to her tonight. She shivered and pulled the bedclothes over her shoulder. “I love ya, Rothgar, more than anything in the whole world,” she whispered as she draped her arm across his waist. “Pray take me home with ya soon.”

Rothgar bent over the washing bowl and splashed cool water on his face. It helped him wake up and regain his senses. His head stung a little, and he had a sour taste in his mouth. By Thor, how much mead had he swallowed last night?

He rubbed his temples and glanced out the window over the bed. The bright sunshine streaming into the room told him that it was nearly midday. He bent over the bowl again to wash his face and clean his teeth.

Odaria had let him sleep late, and he’d needed it. For the first time since he had landed on this cursed isle, he’d finally had a full night’s sleep. Except for a pleasant dream of Odaria cuddling up next to him in the night, his blissful rest had not been disturbed. He straightened up and dried his face on a cloth. Now he felt refreshed and ready for the day.

The welcome aroma of pork and eggs greeted him as he opened the door and made his way downstairs. His mouth watered, and his stomach rumbled at the thought of the hearty morning meal Odaria must be preparing for him. He entered the main room and froze. What in the name of Odin’s throne was this?

Odaria stood at the fireplace with her back to the room, stirring something in a pot. She looked over her shoulder at him, then glanced at the man seated at the table. He caught a worried expression on her face before she turned around again and busied herself over the fire.

He stared at his unwanted guest. The man ignored him, intensely focused on mopping egg yolks off a plate with a chunk of bread. He marched across the room and stopped next to the table. “Nordskog, what are you doing in here? You know you’re not supposed to come inside.”

Nordskog looked up from the plate and popped the bread into his mouth. He chewed it slowly and didn’t answer.

Odaria stepped to his side and slid her arm around his waist. “He has been here all morning, asking for you. I wouldna let him wake you on account of … you were so tired last night.”

He nodded and gave her a quick kiss. Although he was grateful for the good night’s sleep, she should have woke him when Nordskog arrived. The man’s presence unnerved him, and he seemed to distress Odaria as well. What did he want?

“Did he touch you? What has he been doing?”

Odaria moved a little closer to him. “Nay, he didna do anything to me. When I came down this morning I found him sitting outside the door. He barged in and wouldna leave.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “He polished a sword for a while, then sewed up holes in his socks. He looked hungry, so I fed him. Do you wish me to cook you something to eat?”

He shook his head. His appetite had faded. Finding Nordskog so close to Odaria sent a chill up his spine. What was he doing here? Nordskog acted very casual for a man who had just eaten the morning meal that by all rights should have been his. His unusual visit made a bold statement. It was obvious that Nordskog wanted something from him, but what?

He scratched his beard. Why hadn’t Nordskog gone raiding with the other men this morning? He must have had a good reason to stay behind and miss all the excitement. Had he sought out Odaria because his leg troubled him?

Rothgar cleared his throat and leaned on the table, hovering over Nordskog. At this distance, he found himself gazing at the bits of egg yolk that had dripped into his filthy, knotted beard. “What brings you here? What do you want?”

Nordskog stood.

Rothgar instinctively reared back and rested his right hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to defend himself if necessary. Although Nordskog had never harmed him and was behaving calmly at the moment, he couldn’t be trusted not to snap and go into a frenzy. Nordskog glanced at Odaria, then headed to the door. “Come with me, Rothgar.”

He followed Nordskog out of the gathering hall and up the path that led to the center of the village. To his surprise, Nordskog’s rotted leg looked nearly healed. He walked with a slight limp but otherwise appeared healthy and hearty. How was that possible?

“I see you’re walking fine. The leg is better?”

“Ja.” He nodded. “Your witch’s cure worked fast. Rothgar looked around the deserted village. There were no familiar sounds of men laughing and chatting as they played games, gutted fish for supper, or chopped wood. The entire village had a dead, unearthly feel to it. It seemed as if he and Nordskog were the last people left alive in the world. The odd sensation set his nerves on edge.

Nordskog paused next to a brown tent and rummaged in a leather satchel lying on the ground. He withdrew a small bag of tobacco and dropped it into his waist pouch. Rothgar rolled his eyes. He knew it was pointless to tell Nordskog not to rob Karnik’s men while they were out raiding and stealing whatever they could carry.

“Everyone sailed to Vestrey before sunrise,” Nordskog said. “We are the only ones left … aside from your witch.”

A chill rippled through him, and a terrible thought crossed his mind. Karnik’s men had taken the knarrs and were miles away. What if they decided to sail home from Vestrey and leave him stranded here?

“They are coming back, aren’t they?” He cursed to himself. The question had come out too quickly, and the obvious worry in his voice surprised him.

Nordskog shot him a sideways glance. “Ja. My men won’t leave without me.”

He frowned and followed Nordskog to the far edge of the village. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Part of him wanted to grab Nordskog by the front of his tunic and order him to say what he was thinking, but he held back. Such violent actions would not be prudent now. He had to think of Odaria’s safety. There was no telling what Nordskog would do if he set his mind on harming her. Right now, he needed to be patient. In his own time, in his own way, Nordskog would tell him what he wanted.

After a few minutes, Nordskog stopped walking and stood next to a blue tent. He yanked the heavy canvas off the main support and tossed it aside. Rothgar stared down at the man lying on his side wrapped in a gray blanket. Nordskog kicked the man’s leg, but he didn’t move. “Karnik went looking for this one, then left without him.”

Rothgar bent to get a better look at the man. Why had Nordskog shown him this? “So? Is he drunk?”

Nordskog took the bag of tobacco he’d stolen out of his waist pouch and opened it. “No, he’s dead. I smashed in his head last night.”

He straightened up. “Why? What made you do a thing like that?”

Nordskog shrugged and put a pinch of tobacco in his mouth. “He tried to take something that wasn’t his.”

“Is that so? You stand there and tell me this while you’ve got stolen tobacco in your face.” He let out a sigh.

Over the years, he had learned how to cautiously deal with the berserkrs. For the right price, they could be reasoned with and would fight to the death in battle—provided it served their purposes. There were no better allies to have during a crisis, yet their self-serving natures and extreme violence made them outcasts.

“I know you dislike Karnik, but you cannot go around killing his men, Nordskog. He’d toss you off the ship for this.”

He stared at the dead man and frowned. Now he knew why Nordskog wanted to talk to him. He was probably hoping that he could smooth things over with Karnik. Karnik hated the berserkrs and looked for any reason to deny them food, water, and riches. If the berserkrs fell out of favor with Karnik, they would not be allowed on any more of his raids.

“What in the name of Valhalla did he do? Try to take a bit of food from your cook fire?”

Nordskog spat a stream of tobacco juice on the ground. “No. He went after your witch.”

The air drained from his lungs, and he took a step back. “What? How? She—”

“She left the gathering hall and went wandering last night. He crept up on her and tried to have at her.” Nordskog chuckled. “He got a rock to the skull instead.”

He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks to the gods. By Odin’s mercy, Nordskog had been nearby to rescue Odaria. But what if he hadn’t been there? He shuddered at the thought. And where had he been when all this happened? Upstairs, drunk, and of no help to Odaria at all. Once again, he was a failure at protecting the woman he cared for.

“I heard Karnik’s men talking last night. They think the girl’s bewitched you and you’re not right in your head. They’ve turned against you,” Nordskog said quietly.

He rubbed his beard and nodded. “I know. Karnik and I have exchanged words. He wants to leave. He doesn’t care if we ever find Orvind.”

“Orvind,” Nordskog grumbled. “That stupid boy’s been ate up by the fishes. He had no business taking a ship on his own. Now he’s drowned or—”

“Orvind’s alive. I can feel it in my bones.” He shot Nordskog a hard stare. “And remember who you are speaking of. My uncle—”

Nordskog spat another stream of tobacco juice on the ground. “The king’s never done anything for me except take my silver to line his pockets, noble jarl.”

He ignored the sarcasm. Although Karnik’s men resented the fact that the king had him sent to accompany them on this trip, they knew better than to openly voice their displeasure or insult his majesty. Powerful jarl or not, he was still the king’s nephew, and he had considerable influence.

“Take your witch and go home. It is not safe to stay here, for either of you.” Nordskog opened the pouch around his waist and withdrew a piece of jewelry. The silver brooch sparkled in the sunlight.

He recognized it instantly. It was the silver and jade brooch he had given to Odaria. He snatched it from Nordskog’s filthy fingers. “Where did you get this? How did—?”

“It came off when she fought him.” Nordskog nodded at the dead man. “I found it near where they struggled.”

Odaria’s attacker had gotten that close? No wonder she’d looked nervous this morning. She hadn’t been afraid of Nordskog as he’d thought. She was rattled over the assault. But why didn’t she wake him and tell him what had happened? Did she think he was incapable of protecting her?

“Thank you. I owe you—”

“The witch and I are even.” He kicked the dead man again. “She saved my leg from the rot. We’re settled.”

He glanced into Nordskog’s blue eyes. Odaria must have made quite an impression on him in order to warrant such favorable treatment. Even so, he intended to have words with her about last night. He didn’t like her keeping secrets from him.

“Karnik’s men are going to make trouble for you if we don’t leave soon,” Nordskog said. “You will not be able to control them much longer. They are tired of feeding and watering the villagers like pets. The men are eager to make sport of them.”

Nordskog gestured toward the stone church. “How long will you allow these Picts to hang in the breeze? You know their tongue. Make them tell you what you wish to know, or be rid of them. They had many chances to save themselves.”

Rothgar pinned the silver brooch to his tunic and nodded. Nordskog was right. He had wasted too much time coddling the villagers. Brennan knew where Orvind was being kept. It was time to use more drastic measures to loosen his tongue. He arched an eyebrow and glanced at Nordskog. And he knew just the person to help him.

“Would you be interested in earning an extra reward for performing some work?”

Nordskog spat on the ground. “Not for hack silver.”

“Of course not. Allow me to buy the use of your talents and those of your men when the time comes. Upon our return home, if all goes well, you’ll be sailing a ship of your own.”

Nordskog chuckled and bowed low. “And how may I serve you, most noble jarl?”

“Rothgar, I’m so glad you have returned.” Odaria ran to Rothgar’s side as he entered the gathering hall. She was about to throw her arms around him when she spotted the brooch. She covered her mouth to stifle a gasp. Rothgar was wearing her brooch. Where in the blazes had he gotten it?

“I’ve come for something to eat.”

His words broke her from her trance and she dared to look into his ice-blue eyes. They appeared cold and unforgiving. She bowed her head. There was no mistaking that look. Rothgar was angry with her, and she knew why. He had told her never to leave the gathering hall alone, yet this morning he’d found a precious bit of jewelry outside in the dirt.

“Is there any food left, or did Nordskog devour it all?”

“I can make you some chicken if you’d like or a—”

“There’s no time for that,” he grumbled as he walked past her and sat at the table. “Bring me whatever remains from the morning meal.”

“Aye. I’ll fetch it.” She went into the cookroom and glanced down at her red dress. Until Rothgar had walked in wearing her brooch, she hadn’t noticed it was missing. She wrung her hands. How could she have been so careless? That brooch was the only beautiful thing she owned, and she’d lost it … in the scuffle last night.

“Odaria, hurry with my food. I’m hungry and have work to do.”

“Aye, I’ll be right there.” Her mind reeled as she loaded up a plate with bread, cheese, eggs, and fish cakes. Did Rothgar know what had happened last night? Perhaps not, and if she had her way, he’d never know. If he asked about the brooch, she’d lie and say that it must have come off when she went out to relieve herself this morning. Surely he couldn’t be angry with her for that.

She carried the plate into the main room and set it down in front of Rothgar. “Sorry it took so long. I was looking for a piece of sausage.” Her gaze traveled across the front of his tunic to the brooch. She stared at it, transfixed. Although she wanted to ask about it, she didn’t dare.

Rothgar bit into a boiled egg and caught her staring at the brooch. She thought she saw the faint flicker of a smile cross his lips, but then he frowned.

She sat at the table and watched Rothgar as he ate. He was displeased with her, and any fool could see that he was waiting for her to ask about the brooch. Should she apologize for losing it?

Perhaps it would be best to say nothing. If Rothgar didn’t mention the brooch, neither would she. They could pretend that nothing had happened. After all, there was no sense in bringing up the subject if he was content to let it rest.

Rothgar cleared his throat. “About last night—”

“Last night? Oh, aye, last night. Did you sleep well after you went upstairs? I know you were upset about a lot of things, but fret not.” She rose and stepped behind him. “I understand you drank too much.” She began massaging his broad shoulders. “I’ll never breathe a word of what you told me about—”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” Rothgar pulled away from her. “I recognize that sweet tone in your voice, witch. It’s the same one you used on Darach. I will not be made a fool the same way he was.”

“What’s wrong?”

Rothgar looked at her. “Do not play your games with me. I hear the false innocence in your voice. You know damn well what is displeasing me.” He folded his arms across his wide chest. “Have you something to tell me?”

She glanced at the brooch, then cast her gaze to the floor. What should she say? “I’m glad you found the brooch,” she said in her sweetest voice. “I know it is a valuable treasure.”

“The brooch? You think this is about a hunk of silver?” Rothgar pointed at it. “This is nothing but a trinket. I can have thousands of these if I wish.”

Her mouth dropped open. A trinket? Is that what he thought of her most treasured belonging? Is that why he’d given it to her so readily—because it had no value? Her temper flared “Well, if that trinket means so little to you, why are you upset that I lost it?”

“You did not lose it. Someone took it from you.”

She gasped. By the gods, he knew. He knew what had happened to her last night. “That’s not true. It fell off this morning when I—”

“Lying wench!” Rothgar stood so fast that his chair tipped backward and toppled to the floor. “Do not lie to me.” He pounded his fist on the table. “Do you know what might have happened to you? I ordered you not to go anywhere alone, especially at night, and what do you do? You disobey me and leave the gathering hall the moment my back is turned.”

“Your back wasna turned. You were upstairs passed out drunk, weeping for your precious dead wife and child.” She covered her mouth and glanced at Rothgar. The truth had tumbled out before she could stop it. She hadn’t intended to hurl such hurtful and cruel words at him.

Rothgar exhaled slowly and locked his gaze onto hers. “So, that’s what this is all about? Gretta? You are so jealous of her that you go wandering at night and get into trouble? Were you expecting that I’d rescue you?”

“Rescue me? If I had waited for you to come to my aid, I’d be—” The fury in Rothgar’s eyes silenced her.

“I’m no good to you, is that it? You think you’re better off without me?”

“Nay, ’tis not that.” She sighed. “I’m tired of being cooped up in here listening to promises that we shall sail soon. When are we leaving? And what will happen when we arrive at your home? Will you still be in mourning for your darling, perfect wife the entire time I live with you?”

The muscles in Rothgar’s neck and jaw flexed, and he narrowed his eyes to slits. “At least Gretta knew her place. She was a good, docile wife and never argued. She never caused trouble or dared disobey me when I gave her an order.”

Her mouth dropped open. “How dare you. Am I expected to obey you like a dog? When I go home with you, shall I have no say in my own life?”

She shook her head. “If all you want is a slave to do your cookin’ and cleanin’, then find someone else from the village to work for you. And as for that silver trinket you’ve got pinned to your tunic, you can take it and stuff it up your arse,” she said as she brushed past him.

He grabbed her arm as she headed to the door. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Anywhere away from you.” She yanked her arm from his grip.

Rothgar blocked her path. “Like hell. I won’t have you wandering in the village after last night. Do you know what fate would have befallen you if Nordskog had not—?”

“Aye. I’m not as stupid as you think.” She looked into Rothgar’s eyes and saw a flicker of fear. All of a sudden, she realized that he wasn’t angry with her. He was afraid for her safety. She considered the situation from his side. A terrible thing had almost happened to her, and he hadn’t been there to protect her. Her anger drained away, and she softened her voice.

“Rothgar, I’m—”

“Go.” He gestured at the door. “I don’t blame you for wanting to leave me, not after what I confessed last night.” His shoulders slumped. “I do not deserve to have you under my care. I’m not good at protecting women.”

His sad tone nearly broke her heart, and she rested her hand on his upper arm. “I don’t feel ill toward you for being honest about”—she cleared her throat and pushed her jealousy aside—“your past. ’Tis better I learn it from you now than to find out about it later from someone else.”

He let out a little laugh. “Now you know how I felt. When Nordskog told me he had to pull a man off you and kill him … once again, I felt like a weak, helpless fool. What kind of man am I that I couldn’t protect you or keep you from harm? I was upstairs too drunk to notice you weren’t in bed next to me. And you kept it a secret.”

“What was I to do? Rush upstairs and wake you? Make you upset about something that was over and done?”

“Ja, that’s exactly what I would have wanted. Do not keep secrets from me, and never lie to me again. I will not have it. If you are to come home with me, you must listen to me and do as I tell you. I won’t have you running wild and causing trouble everywhere—”

“Causing trouble? If I come home with you?” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I see. Now I know how little you think of me.”

“I did not mean—”

“If I go home with you, shall I be your slave and be forced to obey your every command? Will I be allowed to go anywhere or do anything on my own? Or will you lock me in your house for fear I will cause trouble everywhere I go? If those are the conditions of coming home with you, then I’ll stay the hell right here. I’d rather rot on this isle than have you smother me to death.”

“Smother you?” He sighed. “You are an impossible, stubborn-headed, foolish woman. Why can’t you ever let me help you?”
“Because I’ve never needed help from anyone.”

“That’s not what Nordskog said. If he—”

“What do you know? You were upstairs, drunk to the world and weeping over your precious ghost of a wife.”

Rothgar’s eyes blazed, and he strode past her. “I won’t stand here and listen to this from the likes of you. I’m leaving.”

She followed him as he marched to the door and yanked it open. “Fine, leave. See if I care. Go sail away on one of your horrible, ugly ships, but give me back my brooch,” she shouted, stomping her foot.

Rothgar paused in the doorway and smirked. “Yours? It’s not yours anymore. A jealous, foul-mouthed child like you doesn’t deserve it.”

Rothgar looked away from the ornately carved wooden altar as the church door burst open behind him. He watched Nordskog shove Brennan through and slam the door shut. Brennan fell to his knees before the cross and began muttering prayers.

“Save your breath for me. Your God will not save you now. I am your only salvation,” Rothgar said, stepping between Brennan and the altar. He took his time and studied Brennan for a moment.

After four days of being held prisoner in the nets, he stank like rancid sweat and stale urine. His face was mottled with red blotches, and his bottom lip was cut and bleeding. Obviously he had tried to fight Nordskog. That was a foolish move.

He motioned for Nordskog to haul Brennan to his feet. “I see you have met Nordskog. Delightful man, is he not?” He chuckled as Nordskog grabbed a handful of Brennan’s greasy red hair and yanked him up. Brennan yelped and staggered to his feet. “And he is being generous with you.”

Brennan spit at him. “Rot in hell, pagan devil.”

Rothgar glared down at Brennan. The sight of him made his blood boil, and he fought the urge to hit him. “I have run out of patience with you and your villagers. I tried to be reasonable, but you refused to help yourself.”

“May the devil take the lot of you and that witch-whore.”

He slapped Brennan across the face, nearly knocking him off his feet. “Do not try me. I will not have it.”

Nordskog grinned. “Show him who is the more powerful man, Rothgar.”

He locked gazes with Nordskog. “Ja, I will. Take him down below. I will be there in a moment. If he tries to flee—”

“I know what to do.” Nordskog laughed and dragged a kicking and struggling Brennan to the back of the church.

Rothgar waited until Nordskog had left his sight, then opened the front door. He leaned against the doorjamb and glanced at the sun. It was already late afternoon, and he had no time to waste. Karnik’s men would return from Vestrey at dusk. Tonight they would hold a feast to celebrate their adventures. After that, there was no telling what they would do. He wouldn’t be surprised if they had convinced Karnik that it was time to sail home.

If he didn’t make Brennan crack and reveal Orvind’s location today or by tomorrow morn, he would have no choice but to give up the search and sail home with Odaria.

Odaria. How dare she say those cruel things to him about Gretta? He knew women could be jealous of each other, but Odaria’s coldhearted words had wounded him to the core.

If Odaria thought she didn’t need him, then fine, he’d leave her on her own for a while and see how she liked it. A few hours by herself might change her attitude and make her more complacent. Why couldn’t she understand that he wasn’t smothering her? He was merely trying to take care of her as a man was supposed to.

He stroked his beard and sighed. After he finished with Brennan, he would have to find Odaria and speak with her—if she had calmed herself. He didn’t intend to start another argument with her, but she acted so damn pigheaded about everything. Why hadn’t she come to him for help when she’d needed it?

He closed his eyes. Then again, what must she think of him after his drunken ramblings? He was an adulterer, a liar, and an impotent, spineless fool.

Time and tragedy had weakened him. He certainly didn’t feel like the brawling fighter that he used to be. Thoughts of swordfights or sea voyages never entered his mind anymore. Nowadays he was content to remain on his farm and tend to his animals.

A shrill scream from beneath the floor snapped him from his thoughts. There would be time enough to tend to his farm with Odaria at his side, but now he must embrace his old ways.

He turned from the doorway and strolled into the church. Brennan and Nordskog waited for him down below. Now was the time to dig down deep and once again become Rothgar the Ruthless. It was the only way to get what he wanted.

He ducked as he entered the large room beneath the church. After he had devised his plan with Nordskog this morning, he’d come down here to see this room for himself. The ceiling was low, and he had to bend over to keep from striking his head as he walked around. A thick stone table stood in the center of the room. What did Brennan use it for? Sacrifices?

This was where Brennan had held Odaria prisoner and tortured her for a fortnight. It seemed only fitting that he put Brennan through the same hell that he’d forced upon Odaria. He frowned. How could a supposed man of God do that to an innocent young woman? Especially to his own daughter? He was starting to believe that Brennan suffered from a religious madness as Odaria had said.

Nordskog had lit several candles and oil lanterns around the room. Shadows flickered against the walls, casting the chamber in an eerie glow. A wooden bench sat tucked away in the corner. A thick leather whip, a bucket of seawater, and a small hatchet had been placed on the bench. Brennan was stripped naked and tied spread-eagled to the stone slab.

Rothgar bent over him. “Are you comfortable? Does this seem familiar to you?”

Brennan struggled feebly against the ropes. Rothgar smirked. Days without food or water had weakened him. Perhaps his questioning would not be as difficult as he’d thought.

“Tell me, Brennan. Is it worth it? Is it worth it to see your entire village destroyed because you refuse to tell me what I wish to know?” He paused and waited to see if Brennan would answer. He remained silent.

“Did you enjoy the weather we had yesterday? I find it odd how these storms suddenly rise up when Odaria becomes displeased. Did the same thing happen when her mother grew upset?”

Brennan’s mouth dropped open a little, and he smirked.

Rothgar continued. “Odaria seems rather interested in you, Brennan. If I hadn’t stopped her, she would have roasted you and everyone else alive.” He leaned close. “Tell me, is that what you wish? To see your village in ruin because you are too stubborn to give me what I want?”

“Go to hell.” Brennan spit in his face.

Nordskog drove his fist straight into Brennan’s crotch. Brennan screamed. The ropes binding him tightened around his wrists and ankles as he writhed in pain.

Rothgar looked at Nordskog. He had instructed him to soften Brennan to make him talk but made it clear that he was not to be killed. “Easy, Nordskog. He’s merely a Pict. His man-parts are not made of steel as ours are.”

Nordskog laughed.

He leaned over Brennan again and saw tears welling in his green eyes. “Listen to me. I want Orvind. Tell me where he is, and we will take him and leave. It’s that simple.”

“I’ll tell you nothing,” Brennan snarled between gasps for breath. “You are under the spell of that devil-whore.”

He backhanded Brennan hard across the face. The gold and ruby ring he wore sliced through Brennan’s cheek, and it started bleeding.

“Perhaps I should bring Odaria down here for a visit. You have tortured her, tried to burn her alive, set fire to her cottage, and killed her cat. What do you think she would do to you if given the chance?” He let out a deep, throaty laugh as Brennan’s eyes widened. “Ja, she would not hesitate to kill you. She hates you down to her soul. Tell me, why do you despise her so?”

“Odaria’s a filthy whore, as was her mother.”

Rothgar smacked Brennan again. His head bounced off the stone slab, and his eyes rolled up in his head.

“And what of her mother? Odaria tells me that she was not the product of a joyful union. Who do you think sired the witch, eh? Certainly no self-righteous man of God would force himself on a helpless woman—”

“That whore was not helpless. She parted her legs for every man in the village.”

“Except you, eh? Perhaps she showered favors on all but you. Is that why you took her by force? Or did you hope she would do herself in, out of shame? And what happened after? Did she hex you? Take away the use of your manhood?”

Brennan gaped at him. “How do you—?”

“I know many things. Odaria and I have had long talks about you and what you have done in this village.” He grinned. “Over the years, your hatred for her has grown into madness. You hid behind your religion and used it to punish Odaria’s mother. Odaria told me her mother went missing soon after the trouble with you started.”

Rothgar cocked his head. “Did she threaten to tell everyone in the village that you sired Odaria? Is that why you killed her? You couldn’t risk the shame of your crime being found out?”

“That bitch deserved what happened to her. She plagued us all.”

He nodded. So his guess was right. Brennan was nothing but a madman who hid behind his religion and ordered his followers to do his bidding. Some righteous man of God he’d turned out to be.

“What do you think Odaria would do to you if she knew you were her father? After what she did yesterday, I cannot imagine the full force of her hatred directed at you. Perhaps I ought to invite her in, tell her what I know, and let her take her revenge. After all you’ve done to her, she is entitled.”

“You are under the witch’s spell. She goes against God and all that’s holy. She—”

“She told me how you killed an innocent bairn in front of her. How holy does that make you?” He paused and glanced at Nordskog. He knew Nordskog didn’t understand what was being said, but he was watching everything intently.

“You turned the village against her and her mother because you feared them. They made the others question you and your church, and you did not like losing control over them, eh? You fed off their fears, telling them your God would burn them in hell for this or that. But what of your soul? Does your God approve of a devoted servant raping and murdering to serve his needs?”

“God will protect me from Odaria’s evil spells. She is the devil’s whore, sent here to test our faith.”

He unsheathed his silver dagger and waved it under Brennan’s nose. “There are worse evils in this village than Odaria. I can do more damage to you in one hour than you could ever imagine.”

He brought the tip of the dagger directly under Brennan’s left eye and couldn’t help but notice once again the telltale gold flecks in them. “If I give the order,” Rothgar said, “my men will slaughter every villager and be halfway home before their blood dries. Do not fear Odaria ordering up the wind and rain to dash you about. Fear us. We are deadlier than anything a witch could conjure.”

Brennan let out a tiny whimper.

Rothgar grinned. Good. Brennan was afraid of him. If he could intimidate Brennan into telling him where Orvind was, then he wouldn’t have to resort to torture.

“Until now, I have been fair to the villagers. That all ends soon. I control a hundred men who thirst for women and bloodsport. I have kept them sated but no longer will do so. If you do not tell me where you have hidden Orvind, I will unleash the fury of my men upon the villagers. The gods will weep for their souls.”

Brennan’s eyes widened, and he swallowed hard.

“As they die, I will make certain that they know you could have spared them their bloody fate but refused. Think of it, Brennan. Your people are suffering, and you have the power to save them. They have no food or water in the nets. What will they think of you when I tell them that it is your fault they are not free? That you are keeping them held in misery because you refuse to talk?”

He paused and sheathed his dagger. “My bargain is simple. Give me Orvind, and I will go away. Refuse, and everyone dies. You have my word on that. You do not wish to test me.”

Brennan lifted his head off the table and glared at him. “You are doing the witch’s bidding. I shall tell you nothing while you are in league with her. The devil’s mistress has cast a spell upon you. I should have killed her outright, as I had killed her whore of a mother. Odaria shall burn in hell for her crimes against God.”

Rothgar smacked Brennan hard in the mouth again, but he continued ranting.

“Make all the threats you wish. I fear you not, vile pagan. You and that witch go against all that is holy, and you shall be punished for your heresy. God shall spare me and my loyal villagers from your onslaught. No harm can come to me while I believe in him.”

Rothgar smirked and arched an eyebrow. He could easily ignore the weak threats and religious ramblings that Brennan spewed out, but his self-righteous tone annoyed him.

“Is that so? Then let’s find out, shall we?” He looked at Nordskog. “Hand me the whip.”