6
RORIK TENSED AS Old Alna probed at the pink flesh around the wound on his shoulder.
She pressed more, made more noises he didna??t understand, then rubbed a noxious-smelling paste over the healing wound.
She looked hard at the paste and the wound, made more noises, patted him as she would a small boy, and said, a?? a??Tis good.
Youa??ll live, my lord. Whoever tended you after you were pricked did a fine job. Saved your lordly hide, Ia??d say.a??
Rorik grunted, easing now as she bandaged his shoulder again in soft clean white wool. When shea??d tied the knot over the bandage, he rose, and smiled down at the bent old woman. a??Thank you. It doesna??t pain me so much now.a??
a??Aye, it shouldna??t. You heal well and thata??s because of your mother, aye, never a scratch on her that wasna??t well in a daya??s time.a??
Rorik didna??t know this, but he only nodded. He rose to leave the longhouse.
a??The girl,a?? Old Alna said. a??What will you do with her?
The men tell of how she kept you alive only for her brother to torture.
Is she the one who tended you? Nay, that doesna??t make sense since the men say she would kill you if she could, that shea??s not really a woman but only a womana??s form and that shea??s vicious and cold and a black-hearted witch.a?? Old Alna spit into the fire pit.
His men had said all that? It was doubtful, Rorik thought. Old Alna had an imagination to rival a scalda??s. She could plant an acorn and quickly raise a full-branched oak tree from it.
a??She is Einara??s half-sister and my hostage,a?? he said, and turned away, saying more to himself than to the scrappy old woman, a??Her intentions arena??t always clear to me. She is my prisoner. Keep away from her. She isna??t to be trusted around any of us.a??
A scraggly brow rose in question. a??Will you keep her in your sleeping chamber?a??
He allowed the impertinence, though he gave her a look that would halt most of his men in their tracks.
Shea??d helped bring him into the world, shea??d not left his mothera??s side when shea??d been so very ill with the bloody flux, and he remembered then that it had nearly broken her, for she dearly loved his mother, as did he.
Aye, it had been a bad time, but in large part due to Old Alnaa??s constant vigil, his mother had survived.
Rorik shook his head. He was Old Alnaa??s favorite of all his three siblings and shea??d journeyed here to Hawkfell nearly two years before when hea??d left his small farmstead in the Vestfold, just west of the trading town of Kaupang.
He suspected Old Alna and his mother had discussed it and that both women had decided she should come with him.
He had no intention of answering her. He looked over her left shoulder at Erna who was efficiently working the loom.
Her withered right arm didna??t hinder her work at all.
Hea??d heard stories when he was much younger of how her mother had seen her baby and had wanted to leave her to die on the mountainside, but Ernaa??s father had looked at her withered arm and said no, this was a girl to be proud of.
She was wedded to Raki, one of his warriors with immense strength, his own two healthy arms the size of his chair posts.
Their two boys were whole and strong as their father.
Rorik heard her humming softly to herself as she worked.
He turned back to Old Alna, a??She was still asleep when I left her this morning.a??
a??When she awakens she will be hungry. All she needs is good food to regain her strength.a?? She cackled at that and gave him a sly look. a??Not that Entti is such a good cook. Shall I take your prisoner some porridge?a??
He thought of his orders to her to eat the inedible stew or go hungry. Damn her. He said aloud, a??Why do you continue to make Entti cook if her results are so terrible? Why do you make us all suffer?a??
Old Alna shrugged. a?? a??Twas her turn. What could I do? It is all done by vote. You gave me the responsibility, my lord Rorik, to oversee the homestead, for two years now. I am doing my best. Will you strip me of my duty?a??
Rorik gave her a harassed look, knew the pathetic voice was a sham, but let it go. It always seemed to be Enttia??s turn of late, that or shea??d given the other women lessons on how to prepare swill to cramp the belly. a??Ia??ll see if shea??s awake. Did Entti prepare the porridge?a??
Old Alna cackled again. a??Nay. Ottara??s girl, Utta, was up before the dawn.
Aye, a born cook that one is. A pity shea??s only eleven years old.
She cooks only on rare occasion. Aye, a wondrous cook, that little one.
No black lumps in the porridge this morning.
Shea??ll grow up soon enough, in three years or so, and then shea??ll take her turn with the other women, that or wed and leave Hawkfell.a??
Rorik was so hungry at that moment he gave thought to marrying the child himself.
He stood by the fire pit and fed himself first, eating two bowls, savoring each spoonful of porridge, then dished up a bowl for the woman, dropped a dollop of butter on it, and walked to his sleeping chamber.
He pulled back the hide covering the doorway. Light flooded in.
She was lying on her side on the floor, her legs drawn up, her hands folded beneath her cheek. He stood over her, saying nothing. She looked defenseless. She looked helpless, but he knew the truth. Hea??d felt her damned knife in his throat.
What was he going to do with her?
He nudged her buttocks with his foot.
She mumbled something in her sleep, then quieted again.
He nudged her again, saying, a??Wake up. I have much to do and wish not to waste more of my time with you. You try me with your very presence.a??
She was awake in the next instant. She sat up slowly and brought her hands up to push her hair from her face. It was in the next moment she remembered that her right hand was chained.
He watched her face pale then saw the anger build in her eyes. He said again, a??I have porridge for you. You will eat now. I have no more time to waste.a??
She was so hungry she wanted to snatch the bowl from him.
The smell made her mouth water. She forced herself to nod slowly, very slowly.
She could smell the porridge and the melting butter.
She swallowed convulsively, eyeing that porridge.
She looked at the large man standing over her, the man whoa??d smashed his fist in her jaw and taken her from Clontarf, the man whoa??d set his big foot on her neck and on her back during the long voyage back to this island, and said, a??Is it better than the offal you offered me last night? a??
Rorik dumped the porridge on the floor, turned on his heel, and left the sleeping chamber.
Mirana stared at the porridge, that beautiful porridge with its rich smell and the sweet melting butter, all of it now seeping slowly into the packed earth.
She cried. She didna??t make a sound, just cried, the tears falling over her cheeks, dripping onto the blanket.
It was her own fault. Why had those words come from her mouth?
She hadna??t planned them, theya??d just come out without her permission.
Why hadna??t she just kept silent? Just nodded and accepted the porridge from him?
After shea??d eaten it she could have told him it was offal.
Why had she baited him? She lowered her head in her hands.
She didna??t know how much time had passed, perhaps minutes, perhaps hours, but suddenly she heard a movement, thought it him returning, and quickly sniffed back the tears.
To have him see her weak like this was more than she could bear.
She sniffled and wiped her eyes. She couldna??t bear to look up, to see him staring down at her, doubtless pleased at her failure to control herself, more than pleased that hea??d beaten her down so easily.
A soft young voice said, a??I brought you some bread. I made it myself. Ita??s very good. Lord Rorik and the men have left. Would you like it?a??
Mirana raised her head. On her knees directly in front of her was a young girl with hair so blond it was nearly white.
She was slight and very pretty, wearing a pale blue wool gown with a darker blue tunic over it.
Two simple brooches of pounded silver fastened the tunic at her shoulders.
More importantly, in her hands she held a wooden plate and on that plate were four slices of flatbread.
Smeared on the flatbread were butter and honey.
The smells were beyond description. It was a gift from the gods.
a??Thank you,a?? Mirana said, her eyes never leaving the bread. a??Ia??m very hungry.a??
a??Old Alna said you would be. She said Lord Rorik came out of his chamber looking like a man ready to commit murder, his face all red, the cords standing out in his neck.
She said she doubted you got any of the porridge, he looked just that mad.
She is always saying that men have no patience, that their spirits are too easily irritated and their actions the result of too little thought.
They cana??t always control themselves, she says.a??
a??Old Alna sounds wise.a?? Mirana said no more.
She tried not to stuff the flatbread into her mouth, but it was difficult.
She concentrated on taking one bite at a time and chewing thoroughly.
She knew the girl was watching her intently.
She also knew that she was silent because Mirana was so very hungry and she didna??t want to disturb her eating.
She ate the fourth slice of flatbread and reached out her hand. There was nothing more on the plate.
a??Old Alna also said that you shouldna??t eat more right now or you would be sick and vomit it all up. She said if you could bear it, you should just rest for a while and then Ia??ll bring you some more food. Is that all right?a??