Chapter Nineteen #2
He dropped the reins and fanned his hands across his knees.
The stallion kept moving. “It seems my mother, your brother, and other men of opportunity wish to destroy me. They want to force me back to my sire’s home so I have no voice in matters of importance.
As long as I am a jarl, I will protect those who worship Odin. ”
Her pulse raced as she shook her head in disbelief.
Who was foolish enough to try to take power from Randvior?
Brandon had warned of war. Although she didn’t know all the details of Norwegian politics, Randvior’s viewpoint differed from many of the men who ruled here—he refused to convert.
He gripped the reins again and they broke into a gallop.
“I haven’t a bloody clue whom we killed back at the cabin yet, but rest assured I’ll find out.”
There was a scary confidence in his voice. She trembled at the thought of him going to war, destroying everything in his path. “I don’t want you to leave me …” she mumbled under her breath, never intending him to hear her private thoughts.
“What did you say?” he asked.
Suddenly, she blamed herself for the unfortunate circumstances they had faced over the last weeks.
Even the deaths of his tenants were her fault.
If she had stayed in the woods with Margaret and escaped, she would never have been brought here and Randvior would have never married her or been caught naked in the creek back at the cabin.
“What did you say?” he asked again.
“Behold, I come like a thief! Blessed is he who stays awake and keeps his clothes with him, so that he may not go naked and be shamefully exposed.”
An uncomfortable silence followed, then he broke into violent laughter that shook her body. She gave him her best scowl.
“Leave it to my witty bride to navigate through the canon of Christian scriptures and find the words to chastise me for bathing in a creek. I confess my sins—I am a fool. And yes, caught with my pants down.”
“You misinterpreted my intentions.”
“No, my sweet.” he disagreed. “I fully appreciate the wisdom you show in times of danger. Be careful, the Virgin Mother may be replaced if you keep espousing such words on behalf of your Church. Intended or not.”
They reached the cabins located along the northern side of his property and Noelle’s heart sank at the sight of the burning cross. Randvior wrapped his arm around her to keep her in the saddle. This was not the way the Church intended for the most sacred symbol of her faith to be used.
She covered her eyes to keep herself from staring. “Wicked mockery—sacrilegious representation of Christ’s divine mercy, this is not the work of Christians.”
“No?”
“No,” she assured him. “It’s obviously a trick to mislead you. But what kind of man would do something so outrageous?”
“One who wishes to send a clear message.”
He got down and went to the cross. The burning effigy stood near the smoldering ruins of the cabins.
Brandon led them to the bodies draped with canvas. Noelle’s eyes filled with tears.
“Turn away,” Brandon warned.
She refused. “I will witness this tragedy as anyone else would be expected to.” Though she indeed dreaded the moment he would uncover them.
She gasped in horror when he did.
Brandon identified the families. Scorched beyond recognition—the acrid stench of singed flesh made her stomach groan. She gagged and ran away—vomited uncontrollably.
She startled after Randvior’s face appeared on the opposite side of the tree she held on to. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
“Sick?”
“Yes,” she snapped, “obviously.”
She could tell he was trying to gauge her mood.
“And you should be ill, after seeing and smelling that … that hellish stench.”
She retched again.
“You’ve thrown up quite a bit over the last few days,” he observed. He felt her forehead and cheeks, checking for fever. “Are you dizzy?”
“No.” She pushed past him.
He followed on her heels and offered a wineskin. “Rinse your mouth and take a deep swig. Liquid strength bolsters any man’s spirit.”
I’m not a man. She gargled and spat the mixture on the ground. As her husband suggested, she took a drink and handed the skin back.
“Is your heart made of stone?”
He looked at her levelly. “Stone, no.” He snatched her close. “But hardened after years of war and death,” he admitted. “These are my brethren—irreplaceable subjects who depend on me for protection. Thrall or freeman, if one is harmed, the cup of my wrath shall runneth over.”
This was not the homecoming Randvior had envisioned.
Newly married, he wanted to celebrate, drink, and feast until his insides ached.
He toured the grounds, stopped, and talked to the men on patrol.
Brandon and Aud had wisely dispatched the remainder of the available soldiers to keep watch.
Fifteen thousand acres was too large a swath for only a handful of men to protect.
He returned to the hall and organized two more teams from amongst his tenants and slaves.
Every available man was needed for defense.
If he judged correctly, these bastards wouldn’t dare attack the main house, only the outlying grounds.
The war council met in the great hall, and Randvior slammed his fists on the table. “Aud!” His temper had reached its limits. “Take two men and ride to my father’s house. Bring my mother—either voluntarily or at the end of a rope. She will answer this night for her betrayal and high crimes.”
Aud was especially adept at handling Lauga’s manipulative mouth, almost handled it as well as Brandon. And unlike the men who lived within miles of his lands, Aud didn’t fear her magic.
“I should have let them burn her at the stake years ago in Scotland, after the priests accused her of witchcraft,” he fumed.
“Should have let the winds carry her ashes to the four corners of the earth.” He hated her now.
Nothing could repair their relationship.
No one would ever hurt Noelle again. Oh, he knew who sponsored Brian and brought him to Norway.
And no one challenged his decision. Lauga’s dark magic … A mother should be the wellspring of her family, not cursed by her only son. He reminisced about his childhood—remembered a far off time when Lauga had been kind.
It shattered his heart.
He offered nothing further. Ordered most of his men to stand guard throughout the night and promised to rejoin them once he settled things with his wife. He went upstairs. Noelle was taking a bath in a large tub set in the middle of her room.
“Leave us.” He shoved Katherine outside.
“Finish quickly and gather some belongings—enough to sustain you for a few days.”
“Where are we going?”
“We aren’t going anywhere,” he snapped in a brooding rage. Noelle seemed unaffected by his sour mood, thankfully so. He softened his voice. “You are joining the women in the cellars and I’m staying aboveground to protect us and capture the bastards that murdered our tenants.”
She nodded and made a last pass with a soapy sponge over her delicate skin. She braided her hair and dressed while he watched. He gave her a leather bag and she chose an extra gown and clean leggings, packed her jewel box, two books, and a dagger he pressed into her hands.
He discarded the pack on the bed and lifted his wife into his arms. “I’m sorry.” He twirled her braid around his fingers. “Once this is finished, I expect you to return with me to our little cabin in the woods.”
She smiled.
It would be a lot easier if he had been matched with a shrew.
The kind of woman who once the marital vows were taken clamped her legs shut as tightly as a cell door.
He had lost his strength to resist her and carried her to his room.
She waited patiently while he put on his armor.
Strapping his helmet on, he gave her a serious look.
Together they went to the stairs and stopped.
He saw the glow of what he thought was admiration on her cheeks and realized she’d never seen him dressed in full armor.
The welcoming heat inside her mouth as he kissed her made him reconsider his goals. A quick detour to the bathhouse wouldn’t hurt a soul. He shrugged her bag off his shoulder, took off his helmet, and dropped it to the floor. God, what he could do with that little body in just ten minutes …
With some hesitation and more than a little regret, for not having the time to make love to her, he pushed the thought out of his mind, picked up the bag and helmet, and escorted her downstairs, straight to the cellar.
Guards were already posted at the door. His men saluted and opened it.
Randvior grabbed a torch from a sconce on the wall and went in.
The passageway curved left and opened into a wide stairway.
The main room had a high ceiling with plenty of light.
A hundred women and children gathered around them.
Questions were hurled at him all at once. Where had he been for so long? How long would they be locked in the cellar? Who burned the cabins? He listened until the last woman had an opportunity to express her concern. He shushed them as gently as he could.
“There are no definitive answers, only strong suspicions. We know these families were targeted because of their relationship to me. Once the guilty are apprehended, I promise to mark days of mourning and all of my household will honor the dead. Odin hears their cries for justice and my sword is his answer.”
Whispers among the women went on for a while.
Some of the women and children were directly related to the victims and they wept for their loved ones.
Randvior’s words were accepted and eventually they quieted, but the sound of weeping ripped through him.
This had always been the most difficult part of his duties and he hated it.
“I have brought my wife to join you.” He pulled Noelle to the front. “We married four days ago in a secret ceremony at the standing stones. Who shall I entrust with the responsibility of looking after my bride?”
Unnr Raske raised her hand.
“Unnr,” he acknowledged, reached out, and pulled her from the crowd. “I give her over to your capable hands.” He joined his wife and Unnr’s hands as if in formal pledge.
Before he departed, he walked with Noelle toward the back of the room. “Once I leave these rooms, I will lock the door from the outside. Only I have the key.”
Her face flushed, and she spun slowly around as if memorizing the dimensions of her prison, or looking for an escape route.
Noelle did not like tight spaces or the idea of being locked underground.
“There is a secret passageway meant for the women and children if an emergency arises. I know of no grown man who can fit through the door to get inside the tunnel. It stretches for over a mile westward—only to be used as a last resort. The older women know the signal to listen for to use it. These guards …” He pointed at his men. “… will stay with you.”
Her color improved.
“But this …” He placed the bottle in her left hand and forced her fingers closed around it.
“… is a means to a painless death if our enemies prevail. Don’t be afraid, my love.
I’m sure even your White Christ would forgive a woman for protecting her virtue.
” He felt a slight tremor in her hand as he let go.
“It’s common practice—all the women own one.
” He attempted to convince her of its usefulness.
“The threat of slavery or rape is beyond the comprehension of free Norse. Thralls face no such threats, would only be used in the same manner they are accustomed to in another man’s household.
Promise me,” he said with gruesome finality, “that if the situation arises, you won’t hesitate to use it. ”
She stared past him, unblinking, searching the faces of the women and children, then looked back at him. “Only once I have seen to the needs of the others—I am their mistress now.”
His mouth twitched. Brave to a fault. Randvior walked away, appreciating his bride even more than before.