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She watched Gunleik eat his porridge, slowly at first, then with more appetite when he realized how hungry he was.
Just a few short hours ago the warrior had come with his two warships.
It seemed much longer than that now. Shea??d known immediately he was their leader.
Hea??d stood there on the beach, some fifty feet below the Clontarf fortress, his legs spread, his head thrown back, and taunted them from the beach, called them cowards, derided Einar for hiding behind the witcha??s skirts.
But it had been her responsibility to speak and she had.
When shea??d shouted down that Einar wasna??t here, hea??d laughed, a deep scornful laugh that had rung out loud in the still air.
Einara??s men, clustered below in the yard, were furious; she could feel their tension.
To have all of them taunted was one thing, but Einara??s sister was another.
Shea??d shouted again. a??I am Mirana, sister of Einar.
He is in Dublin at the kinga??s fortress there.a?? She would never forget his stance, the arrogance of him, when hea??d yelled up to her, as shea??d stood on the fortress ramparts, a??Lady, get you below to your spinning!
Prepare your evening meal and keep your tongue behind your teeth where a womana??s tongue belongs.a?? Shea??d known then that he wouldna??t believe her, believe anything she said.
And his trickery, she had admired that as much as Gunleik did. a??Will he live?a?? she asked him now.
a??He is young and strong. If he doesna??t succumb to the fever, aye, I believe so. But you would know that better than I.a??
She left him then and walked to Einara??s sleeping chamber where the man lay. The man fascinated her. She couldna??t seem to stay long away from him.
There was only one rush torch lit, giving off sluggish light.
The room was dim and warm. There were several thick woolen blankets covering the man.
His shoulder was bound tightly with clean white wool.
No blood was seeping through the bandage.
He was either asleep or unconscious, she didna??t know which.
She eased down to sit beside him on the box bed.
She laid her palm on his forehead. He was hot as the coals in the fire pit.
She fetched a cloth, dampened it in a bowl of cold water, and began to stroke it over his face and shoulders.
Over and over again. He muttered something but she couldna??t understand him.
She wondered if he were going to awaken and, when he did, what he would think, what he would do.
Rorik thought he was dead, gone to Valhalla.
Aye, surely hea??d gone to Odin All-Father because hea??d died as a warrior should, fighting with all his might, filled with rage and valor, and there was the soft voice of a Valkyrie above him, her cool fingers on his forehead, and she was speaking words he couldna??t grasp, but it didna??t matter.
She was there and thus he was dead, there were no more choices for him now, no more decisions to be made, no more vengeance to take.
But he couldna??t see and surely that was odd.
Did a man become blind when he died? Nay, that couldna??t be right.
A man in Valhalla felt and saw and ate and sang and took his pleasure with any woman he pleased.
He didna??t feel like singing. He felt a lurching of pain in his shoulder and it shook him deeply.
He didna??t expect pain, surely there shouldna??t be pain after hea??d died.
The pain ebbed and flowed, and he tried to force his mind to accept it, but it was difficult.
Perhaps he was close to death, and thus hadna??t yet gained all that would be his.
He felt cool dampness on his face, another odd thing that shouldna??t be.
The cool dampness was on his shoulders, his arms, his belly, but no lower.
The Valkyriea??s voice grew dimmer until it faded into the blackness that drew on him. Then he felt nothing.
Mirana rose and stretched. The fever had lessened.
He was nearly cool to the touch. Gunleik was right.
He would live. He was young and strong. She stared down at him, wondering if she shouldna??t simply feed him some poison and let him die easily.
She thought of Einar and knew that he would torture this man, break him until he was naught but a shell, and enjoy himself with every moan from the mana??s mouth.
Men and their vengeance. He would die horribly because hea??d tried to gain vengeance on Einar.
Aye, she should poison him, but she knew she couldna??t, it was that simple.
For so long as he lived there was hope for him.
A slender thread of hope, but hope nonetheless.
She knew deep down that was a lie but she wouldna??t release it.
She frowned down at him, then picked up the damp cloth again. She continued to wipe his face and shoulders, over and over until she was satisfied that the fever was truly gone. She pulled the woolen blanket to his chest, looked at him for a very long time, then left him.
She needed to see Gunleik. He was speaking quietly to one of his men, Kolbein the Ox, who was given the name not because of his size, but because of his droopy eyelids that made him look very foreign and stupid, which he wasna??t. She paused, listening.
Gunleik scratched his head, saying, a??Therea??s a traitor amongst us, you know it and I know it.
That man, whoever he is, raised the cross bar on the rear door for him to enter.
He didna??t know I had planned a surprise attack on his leader down on the beach, thus he isna??t part of my inner circle of men.
He didna??t know I and my two men left by that same rear door, and thus he couldna??t have foreseen that I and my men would have been behind his leader.
The spy must have been rotting with fear when the mana??s scheme failed.a??
a??I know not who this man is,a?? Kolbein said low. a??I do not like it, Gunleik. I do not like traitors. Not all that many men knew of your plan.a??
a??That is true. Ah, Mirana. How is our captive? Has he survived the fever?a??
a??Aye, and hea??s resting more easily now. This traitor, Gunleik, you have no suspicions?a??
He shook his head. a??We will know eventually. Perhaps Einar will know when he returns.a??
a??What about his other men?a??
a??Let them remain on the beach. I doubt theya??ll try to attack us, a??twould be suicide.
There is no reason to try another attack on them, even though the storm still rages and we could possibly surprise them.
There is no reason to cut their warships away now.
Besides, Einar will want to capture those warships and add them to his own fleet.a??
Mirana walked to the fire pit and dipped a big wooden spoon into the iron pot. She filled her wooden bowl with porridge. She added butter and walked to the long benches that lined the longhousea??s walls. She sat next to a snoring man. She forced herself to eat, calmly, methodically.
What had Einar done to earn this mana??s hatred?
He was awake and he welcomed the pain. The pain pleased him because he knew now he was alive; he also knew he could control the pain and he had, for hea??d thought and thought, knowing he was in very serious trouble.
He was in a dimly lit sleeping chamber, alone.
Then he heard a voice coming nearer and quickly closed his eyes.
It was the womana??s voice, soft and quiet, and she was saying to someone, a??Hea??s been sleeping for nearly two full days.
Ia??ve fed him but he hasna??t acknowledged me, refuses to acknowledge me.
Hea??s just eaten broth and porridge. He should awaken soon for he has slept many hours now.
Einar will be here tomorrow.a?? She gave a short laugh that held no humor at all.
a??By then he should be well enough for Einar to torture before he kills him.a??
a??Ita??s the way of things,a?? a man said. It was the man whoa??d sent the knife into his shoulder, the man whoa??d shouted that he wasna??t to be killed. He said now, a??I must go, Mirana. Take care. No matter his wound, he is still a man and a Viking and he would kill you if he could.a??
He heard the rustle of her skirt, felt her hand on his forehead, felt the warmth of her breath on his cheek. He wanted to open his eyes but he didna??t. He would wait.
She said, a??Ia??ve brought you some more porridge. You must eat more and regain your strength. I have put honey on it, a??twill give you vigor and add sweetness to your mouth. I know youa??re awake. You have but to lie still and open your mouth. I will feed you just as I have before.a??
Still, he made no move. She stood there staring down at him, wondering about him, if he had a wife, family, and where they lived.
She wished shea??d let him die, quickly, honorably, but she realized now that she simply couldna??t.
There was something about him that drew her.
It was odd, but it was true. She would not be responsible for his death.
She had always admired strength and courage, and he had that in abundance, but it was something more than that, something she didna??t understand.
She wouldna??t, couldna??t, have let him die, for even in the rain-sodden outer yard when hea??d been surrounded with men, Gunleika??s knife sticking obscenely from his shoulder, shea??d had to step forward, shea??d had to stop it, for she knew she couldna??t let him die.
And he would have died for he was too far into his rage, too deep into the battle and into himself to allow himself to withdraw, to allow himself to realize hea??d lost and give up his weapons.
He needed strength now and she was determined he would have it, and thus she said again, a??Open your mouth and I will feed you.a??
He opened his eyes and looked at her. He remembered her now, the witch with all the black hair and the pale face, her hand outstretched toward him.
He remembered the rain striking down her face, plastering her hair to her head, rain dripping from her lashes.
She was looking at him, her expression calm, unworried.
Did she believe him to be so very weak? So helpless?
She sat down beside him and put the wooden spoon to his mouth. He opened his mouth and ate. It was delicious. It focused him momentarily on his stomach instead of his shoulder. He ate all the porridge, feeling the strength flow into him, then said, a??Who are you?a??
a??Mirana, sister to Einar.a?? His eyes were the color of the cloudless sky in midsummer.
a??Einar has no sister.a??
a??I am his half-sister. We have different fathers. My father was Audun; his was Thorsson.a??
a??Youa??re keeping me alive so that he may have more pleasure in his torture of me.a??
She had no answer to that. It would be the result, surely, but that wasna??t why shea??d done it. She rose and said, a??You must rest. I will feed you again soon. Do you have need to relieve yourself?a??
He opened his eyes again and stared at her. a??Aye,a?? he said, and closed his eyes again.
a??What is your name, Viking?a??
a??It matters not that you know. I am Rorik Haraldsson.a??
a??Why did you come here? Who is your spy? Why do you wish to kill Einar?a??
a??I dona??t answer questions from foolish women. You annoy me. Leave me alone.a??
From beneath half-closed lids he saw her stiffen, even as she repeated his name, but she said nothing more to him. What more was there to say? He wouldna??t bend and she couldna??t.
She returned later, how much later he didna??t know, for hea??d slept again deeply. She carried another bowl of porridge. She said nothing, merely sat beside him and began spooning the thick porridge into his mouth. He turned his face away when he was full.
When he turned back to her, his look was speculative, his eyes cold. a??I could strangle you,a?? he said. a??You have a skinny little neck. Aye, I could twist it with but one of my hands and you would be dead before any of your brothera??s men came to your rescue.a??
She laughed and he stiffened at that unexpected sound.
Hea??d sounded mean and cruel, he knew well how to use his voice to bring fear, and yet she had laughed at him.
He felt anger roil in his belly. His eyes narrowed on her face.
a??You believe me so very weak still? Too weak to kill a woman? A witch? Possibly Einara??s whore?a??
a??You should not have said that, Viking.a??