Chapter Fourteen

Rothgar clutched the rope binding Odaria’s wrists in his sweaty hands. He kept a close eye on her as she walked slightly ahead of him along his right side. She kept up a steady pace, staring straight ahead and not uttering a sound. What was she thinking? If he knew her as well as he thought he did, she was alternating between hating him and devising a plan to make her escape.

He hoped she could find a way to escape, if it came to that. She had told the truth when she said that she’d sooner die than be given over to Brennan.

Odaria glanced over her shoulder and sneered at him, then looked away.

He focused his attention on Brennan as he led them over another hilltop. Where was he taking them? They weren’t far from the village. Even though he had searched the isle many times, he hadn’t found any hiding places. What if this was a trap? Odaria had warned him never to trust Brennan, and now he was putting all their lives in his hands. If something went wrong and his plan failed …

Odaria wriggled the rope tied around her wrists as she walked over the hilltop. The knots dug into her tender skin as she twisted and struggled. It was no use trying to wrench her hands free, Rothgar had bound her good and tight. Now what should she do? Was there any hope of persuading him to set her free?

She stopped walking and allowed Rothgar to fall into step next to her. “I canna believe you are allowing yourself to be tricked by him,” she said, gesturing at Brennan. “I thought you were a clever man with brains in his skull.”

“Keep quiet.”

“Nay, I see no need to remain silent. I shall be quieted forever soon enough. If I’m to be killed, I wish to speak my mind first.” She kept up the banter as Rothgar pushed her forward. “You cannot trust Brennan. He lies whenever it suits his purpose. When this bargain of yours turns into a disaster and you are deceived, will you blame yourself for not heeding the word of a witch?”

Rothgar stopped walking and tugged on the rope to stop her. “What do you mean?”

She forced herself to suppress a grin. Her plan was working. Little by little, Rothgar was falling sway to her words. If she could keep his interest and convince him not to trust Brennan, there was still hope for her.

“Did you forget that I have visions? I can foretell events, Rothgar.”

“Pay her no mind. ’Tis nothing but a witch’s trick,” Brennan shouted.

Rothgar glanced behind him. “What do you see?”

She shrugged. “Trouble. For you and anyone who trusts that murdering scum. Why are you so certain he will lead you to Orvind? How do you know that he won’t take you to some headless corpse and claim it is Orvind?” She laughed. “You must know by now that Brennan would tell you anything you wished to hear so he could get his hands on me.”

Rothgar arched an eyebrow and seemed to be considering her words. He nodded slowly. “Aye, and I also know that you would say anything you needed to in order to save your skin.” He shoved her ahead of him. “Keep walking, witch. If I’ve learned anything on this wretched isle, it’s never to trust a Pict.”

“Bastard.” She stomped through the grass. Her plan had failed. Rothgar had seen past her deception. She whirled around to face him. Perhaps speaking plainly would carve some sense into his thick skull.

“Is Orvind so important to you that you will condemn me to death? Suppose you find him and he’s already dead. Then what? Is his rotting corpse worth my life? Will you be content knowing you have sent me to the pyre for no reason?”

“If you speak again, I will stuff a rag in your mouth, witch.”

She growled through clenched teeth and spun around. Fine. If Rothgar didn’t wish her to speak, she wouldn’t. She’d never say another word to the foul Norse-beast. But how was she going to get out of this?

Mayhap she could find a moment to escape when they reached the place where Orvind was hidden. If Rothgar became distracted, she could snatch a dagger from him and do away with Brennan herself. But what if she failed? Brennan would show her no mercy.

She shook her head. How in the name of the gods had she allowed herself to get into this plight? Her own foolishness was to blame. Looking back, she could have done things much differently.

The day her mother vanished, she should have stolen a fishing boat and rowed off the isle. There was no doubt in her mind that Brennan was responsible for her mother’s death. If she had been thinking clearly, she could have fled the isle and drifted wherever the sea took her.

But perhaps her fatal mistake had occurred more recently. She should never have trusted Rothgar. The moment he kissed her, she knew she would be powerless to resist him. Her mother had always warned her against getting involved with men. Why hadn’t she listened?

She gazed into the cloudless blue sky. Birds were singing all around them, joyful and free. A warm breeze washed over her, caressing her skin like a gentle kiss. On any other day, she’d be happy and carefree but not today. She swallowed the lump in her throat. Today was the last day of her life, and what did she have to show for it? Nothing. Just when she’d started to believe that she could have a good life with a man she loved, the gods had played a cruel trick on her.

How could Rothgar do this? Had what they’d shared this morning meant nothing to him? At least she’d tasted the forbidden pleasures of lovemaking in her short life. She blinked back tears. How could her vision of being wed to Rothgar have been so horribly wrong?

Her visions were never wrong, yet Rothgar had betrayed her. And for what? His foolish cousin who was most likely already dead? If they ever did find Orvind alive, she’d give him a healthy smack for causing all this trouble.

She stared out across the field as she walked on. Where was Brennan leading them? From the look of the countryside, she knew they were on the northern end of the isle, but why? There was nothing in this direction except … the abandoned village.

She stopped walking and pulled back. “Rothgar, I—”

“I told you not to talk.”

“Ye don’t understand. I know—”

“Be quiet.”

Stupid man. Why wouldn’t he listen to her? “Fine. I’ll keep quiet. But remember I tried to warn you.”

She stomped on ahead of him, shaking her head. Why had she fallen in love with a stubborn Norseman? The gods must have been drunk the day they decided her fate—tortured, nearly burned to death, and hopelessly in love with a Norseman who had deceived her. She rolled her eyes. What other games were the gods planning for her today? Would Brennan win out?

Everything that had gone wrong in her life was Brennan’s fault. He had turned the villagers against her, taken her mother, and now made the man she loved abandon her …

Her pulse surged, and she glared at Brennan’s back. Perhaps she could conjure a bolt of lightning to strike him dead on the spot. Her rage faded quickly, and she bent her head down. It was no use trying to conjure anything. She was too exhausted to summon the feelings she needed.

A moment later, she spotted a crumbling stone wall in the distance. They had reached the abandoned village. Why had Brennan led them to this place? There was nothing here except remnants of an old church and ruins. The pathways through the tiny settlement were overgrown with dense weeds and grass, yet she smelled the faint odor of smoke on the wind. Was someone living here?

“This is where you have hidden Orvind?” Rothgar said. “We searched these ruins. He is not here.”

Brennan smirked. “You need to know where to look. Did you think I would leave him out in the open? Follow me, and I shall take you to him.”

Odaria glanced at Rothgar as he followed Brennan. Had he lost all sense in his head? How could an experienced warrior be so damn foolish?

“Rothgar, there’s—”

“Quiet!” He tugged on the rope and dragged her alongside him. Her sixth sense flared a warning, and her skin prickled. Danger lurked here. Nothing about this situation felt right. Brennan was acting too calm and too pleasant. Something was dreadfully wrong.

Brennan led them past a low stone wall on the outer edge of the village. She noticed a small stack of dried brush and bits of wood hidden in the corner. She cringed as the wind sent another waft of smoke to her nostrils. It was a fire. Couldn’t Rothgar smell that? Someone else was here. She tried to jerk away from Rothgar, but he held her fast.

“Let me go! Do you not see what he’s doing? This is a trap.”

“Keep quiet, witch,” Rothgar snarled. “You can’t trick me with your words.”

“I’m not. I swear it. Listen to me.”

Brennan stopped walking and pointed to a small hill along the edge of the stone wall. “The ones you seek are in there.”

She groaned. Brennan had hidden Orvind inside a cairn. When Rothgar had netted the villagers, there was no one to give the captured Norsemen sustenance. After days without water, the odds were that they had perished. In essence, they had been buried alive.

“Where? I see nothing but a hill,” Rothgar snapped.

“He is beneath the ground.” Brennan chuckled. “He may still be alive. You should hurry.”

Rothgar knocked Brennan to the ground with a single punch to the jaw. He cursed, then hauled him up by the front of his shirt, shaking him like a rag doll. “Do not spew lies at me. Tell me where he is, or I will tear your heart out.”

Brennan’s eyes widened, and he pointed to a large stone. “Move that rock. It conceals a doorway. Follow the passageway into the cairn.”

Rothgar dropped Brennan, then exchanged words with Haraldur and Sig. A moment later, he grabbed the rope binding her hands and yanked her toward the cairn.

“Let me go! What are you doing?”

“Bring her back. The witch is mine,” Brennan shouted.

“You may have her when I have Orvind.”

Rothgar shoved the rock away from the hillside, exposing the entrance to the cairn. He knelt in the grass and pulled her down next to him. “The passageway is narrow. Go in first. I will follow.”

Her mouth dropped open, and she shook her head. “Nay, I shan’t help you send me to my doom. If Orvind is your precious cousin, fetch him yourself.” She tried to rise, but Rothgar grabbed her shoulder and held her fast.

“You are going in. He may be hurt and need your help.” He shoved her forward. “Go!”

“Bloody Norse pain in my arse,” she muttered. There was no sense arguing with Rothgar. Perhaps if she helped him save Orvind, he’d spare her Brennan’s wrath.

She ducked low and crawled through the tiny opening. The damp smell of earth, mixed with a sickly-sweet aroma, turned her stomach. She held her breath and tried to quell her nausea as she crawled down the narrow passageway. Her stomach rolled, and she stopped and closed her eyes, praying not to be sick. Ever since she’d made love to Rothgar this morning, her stomach felt unsettled and more sensitive than usual.

At first, she thought her ill feeling was caused by a lack of food. She hadn’t eaten anything since she’d been in her cairn with Rothgar. But now she was starting to suspect another reason. She swallowed hard and pressed on. Several feet inside, the passageway opened into a small room and she was able to stand.

“Crawl through, Rothgar. It opens to a room once you are in farther.” She fumbled around in the blackness and discovered a shelf built into the wall. Her hand closed around the nub of a candle and a flint. She lit the candle. The yellow glow cast long shadows on the earthen walls, illuminating Brennan’s deception. The cairn was empty.

Rothgar’s curses echoed in the tiny chamber as he squeezed down the passageway. When he reached the room, he tried to stand and smacked his head on the ceiling. She burst out laughing.

“By the gods, Odaria, I swear—”

“Remember, you insisted I accompany you. Did you think I would make it easy on you?” She sighed. “I know not what you need me here for. You—”

“Because I know how you think, witch. The moment I entered here, you would have made an escape. If you are with me, I know you cannot flee.”

Damn! Rothgar knew her mind well. That had been her plan exactly.

He looked around the cairn. “Where the hell is Orvind?”

“I warned you about Brennan. He—”

“Be quiet.” He snatched the candle from her hand and crawled to the back of the room.

“I’m tired of you ordering me to be quiet. If I wish to speak, I shall. You do not own me.” She watched the candle flame waver in his hand. What was he doing? “You have no right to—”

“If you utter another sound, Odaria, I swear I … By Thor, there’s another opening here.”

“Where?” She went to the back of the cairn. Rothgar stuck his arm into the tiny passageway, illuminating it for her. She coughed and held her nose as her nostrils were assaulted by a thick stench.

There was no mistaking the smell of death. She closed her eyes and tried not to breathe or throw up. If Orvind was dead, perhaps Rothgar would call off his trade. Could she convince him to reconsider giving her to Brennan?

“Rothgar, he’s—”

“Crawl through.”

“Are you mad? I shan’t obey your—”

“I cannot fit through there. Crawl in and drag him out.”

“Rothgar, he’s dead. Leave him.” She tugged on his cloak with her bound hands. “You tried, but there’s no more you can do for him.”
“I said, go.” He pushed her into the opening. “Do as I say, Odaria.”

“Rothgar—”

“I buried Chester for you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Do this for me.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. Of all the things he had to say. She nodded. “Aye. As you wish.”

She took the candle from Rothgar and crawled through the narrow opening. The stench grew worse as she made her way to the inner chamber. If rescuing Orvind’s corpse earned her her freedom, then by the gods, she’d do it. Anything was better than falling into Brennan’s hands again.

As she eased through the opening in the wall, she found herself in another room. The foul smell was stronger here, and she held her breath as she raised the candle. A gasp escaped her throat. “Blessed be.”

Four corpses were propped against the outer earthen wall. In the flickering light, she saw that their hands were tied behind them. Their feet were bound with thick leather straps. A fair-haired man had his head tilted up toward the ceiling at an odd angle. She immediately recognized Orvind from her visions. Had his neck been broken?

The candle flame wavered, and she felt a light breeze on her hand. She moved closer to the pile of filthy rags that had once been Orvind. She followed the direction of his head and spotted a small ventilation slit in the ceiling.

She scowled and brought the candle closer. In the dim light, she spotted a small rivulet of water trickling down the wall near Orvind’s parted lips. She shook her head.

“Poor thing. How long did you suffer down here, trying to get a drink of water?”

Orvind opened his eyes, and she screamed.

“What happened, Odaria? Talk to me,” Rothgar shouted.

She scurried away from Orvind. He wasn’t dead.

“Are you hurt?”

“Nay,” she managed to croak out. “I, I, I just had a fright.” She leaned against the far wall and tried to calm her thundering heart. What should she do? If she gave Orvind to Rothgar, he would deliver her to Brennan. Rothgar didn’t know that Orvind was still alive, and he wouldn’t unless she told him.

“Odaria, what do you see? What is in there?”

“Four bodies, Rothgar,” she answered.

At the mention of Rothgar’s name, Orvind snapped his head in her direction. He tried to speak, but no sound came out. Familiar ice-blue eyes searched hers, pleading for help.

She looked away. This wasn’t fair. Every instinct in her body told her to help Orvind, yet if she did, she was sealing her own fate. Why did she have to make this decision? If Orvind had already been dead, then the gods would have decided this, not her. She bowed her head and prayed for guidance. Perhaps the gods were testing her. Certainly they would reward her for doing the noble thing and saving Orvind’s life.

“Bloody troublesome Norsemen, I dunno why you do not stay in your own land,” she muttered as she crawled back down the narrow passageway.

“Who are you talking to?” Rothgar called out.

“Your cousin, that’s who,” she snapped as she reached the outer room. “The damn fool’s still alive.”

Rothgar’s eyes widened. “Then why are you here? Go back and fetch him.”

She held her wrists out in front of her. “How in the name of the gods am I to do anything when I am still tied up? Release my hands, and give me your dagger.”

“Dagger?” Rothgar frowned. “Why do you need my dagger?”

She rolled her eyes. “How else am I to free your blasted cousin from his bonds? Gnaw on them with my teeth? If you wish me to help him, you must untie me.”

“Agreed.” Rothgar unsheathed his silver dagger and cut the rope binding her wrists. He handed her the blade. “I know it will be unpleasant, but you must see if the others still live.”

“Aye. Unpleasant isn’t the word.” Touching an object that belonged to a dying man was bad enough, but touching a corpse was a thousand times worse.

Once again, she inched down the passage and into the small room. Orvind’s eyes widened, and he squirmed at the sight of the dagger in her hands.

“Be still. I’ve come to free you. Rothgar’s waiting.” She pointed to the passageway and hoped he would understand.

She set the candle down in front of her and knelt at Orvind’s side. He was sitting in a puddle of waste next to a bloated corpse. Her eyes watered from the stench as she cut through the straps binding his feet. She moved quickly and sliced away the ropes holding his arms.

Orvind cried out as his hands were cut free. His right arm flopped to his side, and he screamed.

“Odaria! What are you doing to him?”

“Nothing. He’s hurt.”

She raised Orvind’s head and looked him in the eyes. His nose was broken, and his lips and face were swollen and bruised. Blood had dried and caked in his white-blond hair. “I need to check the others. Then I’ll drag you out.” She glanced at the other men bound to the wall and steeled her nerves. One touch was all she needed to know their fate.

She skipped the man closest to Orvind. The black tongue protruding from his swollen lips told her all she needed to know. He had died from a lack of water. Orvind had been the lucky one. He’d been tied up near the ventilation slit. With a start, she realized that all the rain she’d conjured up in the last few weeks had trickled down here and saved his life.

Odaria moved to the next man and rested the tip of her finger on his chest. A black flash zapped through her, and she jerked away. The sooner she confirmed that the other man was also dead, the sooner she could take Orvind and leave.

She crept over to the last man and studied him. He seemed to have no external wounds, and he looked like he was asleep. She touched his face and yelped.

“What is wrong?”

“The others are dead. I shall bring Orvind out. Reach up into the passageway as far as you can and help me. Mind his right arm and shoulder. They are broken.”

She turned to Orvind. “Come with me,” she said and started to go through the opening in the doorway. She looked back. Orvind sat where he was, unmoving.

She frowned. Now what? Was he too stunned or too injured to escape?

“Odaria, what in the name of Thor is taking you—?”

“He won’t move, Rothgar. He’s just sitting there, staring at me. I think he’s gone mad.”

Rothgar shouted something in Norse, and his words echoed into the tiny chamber. Orvind looked in the direction of Rothgar’s voice, then squeezed himself into the passageway. She waited until he was almost through before she crawled after him.

A moment later, she reached the outer chamber. Rothgar held Orvind’s shaking body and was whispering to him.

“What did you say to him to make him move so fast?” she asked.

“I told him that I’d left my peaceful home and sailed to this god-awful isle to find him. I said that if he didn’t move his ass I would crawl in there and drag him out, then give him a good thrashing.”

She couldn’t help but grin. “You have a most persuasive manner.”

“Do what you can to mend his arm, and for Odin’s sake, hurry.”

She sat in front of Orvind and ran her hands along his right arm and shoulder. Orvind screamed and hit her in the mouth with his left hand.

“Filthy bastard.” She slapped him hard across the face in return.

Rothgar grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her to his side. “Never do that again.”

She glared at Rothgar as he released her. “He hit me first. He deserves it for all the trouble he caused.”

Rothgar clenched his jaw. “Do as I say and help him.”

Odaria gently touched Orvind’s shoulder. “’Tis broken … as it was in my vision. His arm, shoulder, and collarbone are smashed. I need a long piece of cloth to make a bandage and bind it.”

Rothgar pulled off his cloak and slit it in half with his dagger.

“What are you doing?”

“Making a bandage.”

“From your good wool cloak?”

“Would you rather I use your dress? Now what?”

“His shoulder is knocked out of its socket and needs to be reset.” She clasped Orvind’s wrist and forearm and slowly moved them across his chest. Orvind whimpered, then screamed as she slid his arm across his belly. There was a loud snap, and he went limp.

“What the hell did you do, Odaria?”

She rolled her eyes. “Nothing. He’s weak. He merely passed out from the pain.” She wrapped a piece of Rothgar’s cloak around Orvind’s right shoulder and bound his arm to his chest. She yanked hard, pulling the bandage tight.

“His collarbone is broken, and his shoulder is badly wounded. His arm may never wholly recover. He’s bad off, but I think he shall live.” She draped the other part of Rothgar’s cloak around Orvind’s forearm and fastened a sling around his neck.

“Give him fresh water to drink, and clean him off as soon as you can. Any open wounds or sores must be washed out with hot fresh water, then rinsed in cool seawater. Keep his arm tied up and bound tight for three weeks at least. Give him nothing to eat but broth for the first few days. His stomach will not be able to take anything stronger.”

She finished tying the sling and sat back on her heels. “After that, feed him milk, cheese, and meat. He needs good food to strengthen his blood. After three weeks—”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Rothgar asked.

“Because I shan’t be alive much longer.”

Their gazes locked for a few seconds. Then she turned away. “Take him out of here. Be gentle. He’s frail,” she said quietly.

“What of you?”

“I will follow behind you. Do not worry. I won’t try to run. “ She sighed. “There is nowhere I can go.”

Odaria exited the cairn and heard Rothgar utter something that sounded like a curse.

“Rothgar, what is—?”

The words froze on her lips as she gazed around her.

Two dozen villagers surrounded the entrance to the cairn. Although they were filthy and gaunt from lack of food, each person brandished a weapon. The men held long wooden spears and axes, while the few women clutched large stones and daggers. Haraldur and Sig were on their knees, held at knifepoint by two male villagers.

“Where the hell did they come from?” Rothgar muttered.

She glanced around the village. To her horror, she spotted a pile of dried twigs set at the foot of a thick wooden beam. Brennan’s pyre was readied and waiting for her once again.

Brennan walked to them, grinning. “I told my loyal followers that if they ever escaped, to meet here, knowing we would eventually come for your friend.”

Brennan laughed, and the high-pitched sound sent a chill up her spine. There was no doubt about it—Brennan’s mind had cracked. He’d gone completely mad.

Rothgar said nothing. He stood still, cradling the unconscious Orvind.

Brennan continued ranting. “Do not try to save the witch, Norse-scum. There are many more of us than there are of you. I spared your friends.” He gestured at Haraldur and Sig. “Now leave … while you still can.”

The villagers released Haraldur and Sig, and they rose to their feet. Odaria watched in shock as Rothgar carried Orvind past Brennan and handed him to Sig. He spoke to Sig for a moment. Sig nodded, and then he and Haraldur carried Orvind out of the village.

Rothgar looked back at Brennan. “The deal is done. We will set sail at once. The witch is yours.” Without so much as a glance in her direction, he walked away.

The villagers descended on her like a pack of wolves. Someone kicked the backs of her knees, and she fell forward. A fist slammed into her stomach, and her left arm was wrenched behind her back.

“Rothgar, don’t leave me,” she screamed as they dragged her to the wooden beam.

Rothgar stopped. She saw his shoulders rise and fall, and then he spun around. Her heart soared as he strode back to her. He would save her after all.

Brennan stepped in front of Rothgar, blocking his path. “No tricks, pagan filth. Be on your way, lest I slit her throat before you.” Brennan faced the villagers. “Bind her well. See that she has no means of escape.”

Odaria fought against the villagers as they lashed her hands together behind her back, then tied her bound wrists to the beam. They coiled the thick rope around her upper arms and shoulders. She winced as they pulled it tight across her breasts and knotted it several times. Satisfied with their work, they began piling the brush beneath her feet.

“As you can see, I’m a man of my word,” Rothgar said, glancing at her. “So tell me, Brennan. What are your plans for Odaria?”

Brennan grinned. “I shall burn her as I intended to before she conjured you Norse invaders from the depths of the sea.”

Rothgar nodded. “A slow and painful death. You do enjoy that, don’t you? Is that why Orvind is still alive? You kept him locked away like an animal, forced to suffer in torment, rather than killing him outright.”

Odaria only half-listened to Rothgar as she squirmed against the ropes. There was no way she could get free. The ropes were too tight.

“I was saving that band of marauders to be sold as slaves. They all would have survived, if you hadn’t netted us,” Brennan growled. “Leave. Now. I have kept my end of the bargain.”

Odaria glanced at Rothgar over Brennan’s shoulder. Right now, he was as helpless as she was. If he drew his broadsword and killed Brennan, the villagers would attack him. Even he was no match for two dozen crazed people. Was there any hope left for either of them?

“And I will keep mine,” Rothgar said. “But I do wish to say good-bye.” He pushed past Brennan.

Rothgar walked straight up to the wooden beam and kicked the pile of brush aside. “Odaria has been a great source of pleasure to me while I was here. After all the delightful nights I’ve spent with her, I would like a sample of her again. It is a long voyage home.”

She stared at Rothgar. Had he gone mad as well? Why was he dallying here? If Brennan gave the order for the villagers to attack, Rothgar would be killed. She had to warn him.

“Rothgar, ’tis—”

He cupped her chin in his hand and kissed her. Her body tingled, and she instinctively responded. Their tongues met and melded together as they kissed one last time. She loved him, heart and soul. No matter what happened to her today, she’d love him forever. Tears welled in her eyes. It was some small consolation knowing that she’d die with the taste of Rothgar on her lips.

Rothgar moved away and stared into her eyes.

Her resolve faded, and she started to cry. “I woulda been a good wife,” she whispered.

He smiled, wiped a tear off her cheek, and replied quietly, “Don’t cry, little witch. Now is not the time for tears. Now is the time to get angry.”

Rothgar moved back and cleared his throat. “She is yours, Brennan. Do with her as you please. My men will be leaving this place within the hour.” He took a few steps, then turned and walked back.

“I know you are a cruel man, Brennan. But to do this dreadful deed to your own daughter, it’s unholy.” He shook his head.

“His what?” Odaria exclaimed.

“Your mother never told you?” Rothgar asked, then pointed at Brennan. “He is your father, Odaria. He’s the one who forced himself upon your mother. He confessed that—and much more—to me when we were questioning him. If you inherited such evil powers, would not he be partly responsible for giving them to you?”

The villagers surrounding the pyre gasped and muttered among themselves.

Her skin prickled. How could such a horrible thing be true? And yet, it made sense. Her mother had always hated Brennan and warned her to stay far away from him. Deep in her heart, she knew Rothgar spoke the truth.

“May the gods have mercy on your soul, Brennan. You will need it,” Rothgar stated. “You violated and murdered the mother of your daughter, killed an innocent babe, buried three men alive, and now are about to burn your child to death when she has committed no crime …”

He chuckled and continued. “Is there no satisfying your bloodlust? Even my people contain their urge for bloodsport, and we don’t kill our own. Is this what you preach in your church? How to kill your enemies and children?”

“Shut your mouth, wretched liar,” Brennan shouted and waved a dagger at Rothgar. “Go now, or else.”

“I will. My stomach sickens at being so near such a holy man. It’s odd. I’ve never roasted anyone alive, and yet you call me a barbarian. I will leave you to practice your Black Arts.” Rothgar strode to the low stone wall. “Ask him about your mother, Odaria,” he called out over his shoulder as he left the village. “She was about to expose his godless crimes to the rest of the village when he killed her.”

“Brennan, you miserable bastard.” She struggled against the ropes. “I shall have your head. You are nothing but a murderous coward.”

Brennan darted to her side and pointed the dagger at her throat. “Speak again, witch, and I shall cut out your tongue before I light the pyre.”

Odaria whimpered and cringed away from him. He was mad and capable of anything. It would do no good to fight with him now and enrage him further. If Brennan thought she had given up, she might find a way to escape—somehow.

“I thought that would silence you, witch. Your Norseman has left you, and soon I shall be rid of you as well.” Brennan shouted orders to the villagers, and they began piling more wood onto the pyre.

She scanned the horizon, hoping to catch a glimpse of Rothgar returning. But there was no sign of him. He had left her to meet her fate alone.