Chapter 15
Another kick, to the ribs this time, caused him to double over.
Then a punch to the side of the head, made him see stars.
Steinar closed his eyes, bracing himself against the pain ripping through his body.
The beating would stop eventually, either because he passed out, or because his tormentor got tired.
Either way, it was out of his control. Begging would achieve nothing.
If the man was determined to make him suffer, then he would not stop because he’d been asked, quite the opposite.
He would delight in his enemy’s humiliation.
Steinar made sure to keep on breathing and not uttering a sound. The bastard didn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing he was inflicting him pain; he probably knew it anyway, and enjoyed the idea.
Finally, as he’d predicted, everything stopped. His gag was removed and the ropes at his wrists tightened further.
“You’re a stubborn one, Norseman, I’ll give you that.
” The man spat on the ground and cradled his right fist into his left hand.
Had he hurt himself while hitting him? Was that the reason he was stopping, because he could not carry on?
Steinar scoffed, hoping it was the case.
If only he could have been made of real stone…
Then the Saxon would have cracked his knuckles on the first blow.
“But I’ll make you admit you killed your poor little wife, never fear. ”
“I did not kill her, so you will not,” Steinar said, the taste of blood bitter in his mouth. He was wasting his breath, he knew, but he could not let such an accusation pass unchallenged. He had not killed Astrid. Nothing would make him admit to it.
The man didn’t seem to have heard him. “You lost no time in replacing her, did you? With a Saxon no less.” He tilted his head, as if considering.
“You know, now that you’re in here, unable to see to her needs, I think I will go see your new woman and give her what she deserves.
She’s a nice piece from what I saw, and felt soft and plump writhing against my cock when I held her. ”
Every inch of Steinar’s body started to burn.
Bile rose in his throat because he feared that this was no idle threat destined to taunt him.
The man had seen Cwenthryth at the hut and he knew she would be alone while he was here.
Ulf and Rothgar would be no match for him if he decided to attack her, even supposing Cwenthryth allowed them to intervene.
He knew her. She would likely surrender herself rather than allowing the two boys to get hurt.
But he could not let that happen, not after what she had endured already.
“Touch her and I’ll rip your cock out with my bare hands,” he snarled, wishing he could shred the ropes holding his wrists captive.
He would still be chained to the wall by the ankle, of course, but the gaol was not so big.
If he had his hands free, he would make sure the bastard was in no state to do anything to Cwenthryth or anyone else.
He would rip his cock out, and enjoy paying him back for the beating.
The man laughed, as if reading his mind. “How will you do that? Tied as you are, you can’t even throw a punch, so my cock is quite safe, I would say.”
“It might be tied for now, but I will not remain here indefinitely.”
And when I come out, you will regret your words.
“Oh, I imagine you’ll get out eventually, but only to hang for your crime.
Then the little Saxon will be shown what I can do to women.
” He eyed him up contemptuously. “You’re a great big brute of a man, probably only able to rut like the beasts in the field, so I wager she would welcome a more civilized lover. ”
“Is rape your idea of civilized?” Steinar spat. Bloody hell, forget the beating he’d just received, hearing the man’s intentions regarding Cwenthryth was true torture. His body had been less damaged by the blows than his soul was being at the moment.
The vile man leaned in toward him, the foul smell of his breath becoming overwhelming. “I’ve never raped a single woman in my life. Never needed to. Once I have shown them what I can do, they always end up begging me for more. Your woman will be no exception. She will squirm under me and she will—”
“No!” Steinar roared. And then he realized that, tied as he was, there was still a weapon at his disposal.
His head.
The noise the man’s nose made when it shattered against his skull was the most satisfying Steinar had ever heard. Then it was followed by an even better one. The sound of the man whimpering like a babe, as the pain of the blow registered.
“You bastard! You broke my nose! You’ll regret that when I ask the hangman to slice off your bollocks before hanging you like the dog you are,” he cried out, his voice completely different.
He spat on the floor, then he kicked him in the shin.
The pain radiated all the way to his eyeballs but Steinar only smiled.
He’d understood by now that the man had no real power; he would never kill or even seriously maim him.
The reeve had probably given orders that their prisoner should be left in reasonable condition until a verdict had been reached, which was why the beating had stopped when it had.
Fear of retribution was keeping the Saxon from inflicting any lasting damage.
“I’m not a dog, you are. Didn’t you know? I’m a wolf.”
“Don’t think a broken nose will stop me from making your woman pay for what you just did.”
No, unfortunately Steinar did not think that. It would only make the Saxon more determined to make Cwenthryth suffer. “The men at the village will never let you get away with it,” he snarled.
Of this he was certain. His father, his brothers, Moon, Rorik, Haakon even, everyone would defend Cwenthryth as if she were their own.
If they saw she was attacked, of course. The bastard would likely make sure to take her away before pouncing, in case anyone heard her cries or realized what was happening.
The tightening of the man’s lips made it clear he had read his mind.
“They might well try to stop me if they saw me, but I’m hardly going to announce my intentions, am I?
I will get the woman out of the village and into a comfortable bed before I show her what us Saxons can do.
She deserves nothing but the best, and so do I.
” He cupped himself crudely. “Well, methinks it’s time to go.
My balls are burning something fierce. If you don’t see me at your next beating, you know where I’ll be. ”
The door slammed shut, leaving only a resounding silence.
Steinar threw his head to the ceiling and howled.
A moment later the door opened again, but this time, his father entered.
Everything within Steinar relaxed at the sight.
Not another bastard intent on beating him, not the reeve about to ask him questions about his supposed crime, not the hangman come to take him away, but the man he most dearly wished to see.
“Son.”
The Icelander knelt next to him and started slicing the ropes holding him captive without another word. As soon as he was free, Steinar brought his arms in front of him, flexing his wrists, rolling his shoulders and neck to relieve the tension in them. Never had anything felt so good.
“What are you doing here?” he rasped, hoisting himself up into a more comfortable sitting position.
In truth, he was not surprised to see him gain access to the gaol.
As the undisputed leader of the Norsemen village, Wolf had the respect of the Saxons, with whom he’d worked on many occasions over the years.
No one, least of all a newly-elected reeve, would have dared refuse him access to a Norse prisoner, much less if that prisoner was his son.
But how had he known where he was so quickly?
How could he have supposed he’d been arrested for murder and taken to town?
“Cwenthryth came to find me when you were taken. She explained everything, told me what I needed to gain access to you.”
Steinar let out a sigh. “Of course.” The woman had acted with decision, doing what needed to be done instead of wasting time lamenting herself. He should have known he could rely on her.
“How are you?”
He snorted. “Never better, as you can see.” One of his eyes was swollen shut, his lip was cut, and he could well imagine his face was crusted with blood and covered in bruises.
As to his body, it was a miracle no bones had been broken.
“But never mind that. It will all heal. You must know I didn’t kill—”
“I do know that. That is not even in question.” His father did not let him finish. “My sons do not murder innocent women.”
“No.” The unwavering support was welcome. “Thank you.”
Wolf straightened up, determination etched over his face. “Now. As the reeve knows me, he is prepared to listen to reason. But we must find out who accused you and why.”
That was what Steinar had wondered. Who had accused him of a crime that had not even been committed, and to what end? “I have no idea. All I know is that this is a nightmare.” Being accused of killing a woman, a woman he had once loved, had pierced at his heart.
“Yes.” Wolf’s blue eyes clouded over. “And I am better placed than most to understand how you feel. I, too, was accused of murdering my wife. The difference is that Solveig, unlike Astrid, had indeed been killed.”
Steinar did know that. In fact, it was why the Icelander was here in this country.
More than thirty years ago, he had been sent into exile for the murder of his first wife, an Icelander like him.
His innocence had been later proved, of course, but by then it had been too late for him to go back home.
He’d found his second wife, Merewen, the Saxon who was the love of his life, and she’d already been carrying their first child—Steinar himself.
Merewen’s country had become his. There had been no talk of ever going back.
“Yes. I know you were accused of strangling her.” Steinar could not begin to imagine what his father had endured at having the people in his village, some of them friends, believing him capable of such a despicable act. “It must have been awful.”
“It was. Another difference with you is that our marriage had started to go sour by then, which allowed people to think I had…”
Wolf’s voice trailed off when Steinar threw him a meaningful look.
No one at the village knew or even suspected the tensions in his marriage, but they had definitely been there.
As far as everyone was concerned, everything had been well between him and Astrid, even if, like most people, they’d faced their share of trials, the loss of their second child being the worst of them.
Suddenly, he wanted to tell his father what it had really been like.
He had hidden the truth for far too long, under the pretext of protecting the people he loved, but it was suffocating him.
He’d opened up to Cwenthryth the other day, and it had been a liberation.
It seemed to him that he would feel better if his parents knew exactly what he’d been through and he could stop pretending.
“My marriage to Astrid had done much worse than go sour. It had rotted away.”
He told him everything, the distance settling between them, the resentment building within him at the lack of intimacy, her decision to leave him before she died.
The only thing he kept to himself was the existence of a lover.
Things were bad enough as it was, and he didn’t see how adding to his humiliation would help in any way.
Wolf nodded slowly once he’d finished. “I cannot claim to be surprised. We didn’t dare to say anything, but your mother and I started to suspect all was not as it should be a while ago.”
Steinar gave a small smile. Of course, he should have guessed his mother would notice something. She had always been a particularly astute woman.
The similarities between him and his father, always at the forefront of his mind, struck him anew.
Everyone agreed that, out of the three brothers, his eldest was the one who resembled Wolf the most physically.
Apparently, their appearance was not the only thing they had in common.
Steinar had now fallen for his own Saxon woman.
He could only imagine the effect a young Merewen would have had on his Icelandic father all those years ago, when he’d been a man in exile.
With her auburn hair and liquid black eyes, she would have been striking woman, nothing like the fair, blue-eyed women he was used to seeing in his country.
No wonder he had bought her from the slave seller she had been given to.
As soon as he had seen her offered to the crowd, he had wanted to protect her, make sure no man could hurt her.
Steinar gritted his teeth. Here the difference between the two of them was a major, distressing one.
His father had taken it upon himself to save a woman who had not asked anything of him, who had not even known of his existence and had not exchanged a single word with him.
He, on the other hand, had refused his aid to the woman who had come to him in search of protection and told him many times she was fleeing a dangerous man.
He’d been told she was in danger, and yet had ignored her pleas and sent her away.
He had treated her as if she were his to use for his pleasure, and then allowed her to leave when everyone urged him to let her stay.
Well. No more.
From now on he would do what he should have done from the start. He would protect her, he would be there for her. Starting from now on, even if he was stuck in this wretched cell.
“Faeir, please, go back to the village. Look after Cwenthryth. She’s not safe. The men here have their eye on her.” He shook his head in disgust. “The one who beat me earlier… I fear he will—”
“Sven is at the hut with her and the children, has been from the moment she came to talk to me. He’s under strict instructions not leave her side until you come home. You can set your mind at rest.”
Steinar nodded, reassured at last. His brawny brother was protection enough. One look at him scowling and the Saxon would soil his braies. “Thank him from me. And thank you for coming, for believing me. T?kk.”
“You don’t need to thank me for that. I will always be on your side.” With a nod, Wolf stood back up. “I’ll be back soon, to get you out this time. Don’t worry. No son of mine will hang for a crime they didn’t commit.”