Chapter Thirteen #3
“He claims he never touched her.” Elena sighed. “I imagine she’s a good woman. Even if she did take him captive.”
Agata’s eyes gleamed. “She did what?”
Elena shrugged. “I believe Styr was chained up for a few days in her house.”
Her friend started to laugh. “By the goddess, I believe I would have paid gold to see that. Can you imagine how furious he must have been?”
“He wants to wed her!” Elena blurted out. “After all that she did to him, he’s in love with her. I gave him everything, and he fell in love with a woman who locked him up!” Her rage flooded through her until she clenched her fists.
A snort escaped Agata. “Perhaps the Irishwoman had a good idea with that one.”
Elena didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but when her friend began to smirk she buried her face in her hands. “And then I seduced Ragnar.”
Her friend let out a snort of laughter. “That’s the first sensible thing you’ve done, then. Ragnar is a wickedly handsome man, and he would do anything you asked.”
Elena didn’t doubt it, but it was one thing she wished she’d never asked of him. “Now he wants nothing to do with me,” she said, her gaze passing over the sleeping infant. “Perhaps I’m behaving like a skj?ge.“ She winced at the thought.
“I don’t think so.” Agata patted her shoulder. She tilted her head to one side, studying Elena. “After your husband did that to you, it’s only natural that you’d want a man to feel better about yourself.”
“It was a stupid impulse, and it will never happen again,” Elena said. She should never have let her body’s needs outweigh common sense. “I don’t even know why I seduced him.”
Agata glanced down at her sleeping baby and sent her a rueful smile. “Because it was fun?”
Elena’s face turned crimson, not wanting to answer that. “He’s been avoiding me ever since. I shouldn’t have done it.”
“He’s guilty,” Agata predicted. “There’s not a man alive who doesn’t enjoy a woman who seduces him. And if you’ve the desire to take him to your bed, that’s your choice.”
“I don’t know what I want,” she admitted. For so long, all the decisions in her life had been made for her. Her father had arranged the marriage to Styr when she was hardly more than seventeen. She’d never questioned it. And then her former husband had made the decision to come here.
“You have time enough,” Agata reassured her. “And you are fortunate to have no one to answer to but yourself. There are days when I would love to walk through that door and never come back, especially when the children are whining and crying.”
“Even if I never wed again, I do want to be surrounded by children,” Elena said.
It reminded her of her purpose in coming here and she told Agata what she had seen that morning.
After describing Matheus to the woman, she added, “He looks half-starved. I want to find his home and see if anyone is taking care of him.”
Agata eyed her for a moment. “He’s not like other boys, Elena. They call him simple-minded.”
She had guessed as much when he’d been tracing his hand along the walls. Which meant he needed help even more than the others.
“I want to see where he lives,” she insisted.
Agata shrugged. “I’ll show you, then.”
When they stepped outside, Agata called her oldest daughter to come and watch the baby. Then she took Elena’s arm in hers, and they began walking toward another part of the city.
She followed Agata through the quadrants of longhouses, past the Irish dwellings on the other side. They passed the wealthier homes and moved into the shadowed part of the city where Ragnar had taken her the other morning.
The houses were closer together, and the scent of dirt and human waste mingled in an unpleasant way. Elena moved her hand to the small knife she carried with her, and she glanced back at her friend. “I don’t think we should be here without an escort.”
Agata shrugged. “It isn’t far. But you did say you wanted to know where he lived. It’s just over there.” She pointed to a small dwelling on the far side. The roof thatch appeared to be rotting, and Elena didn’t like the look of the place.
“He doesn’t speak,” Agata continued. “He never has, from what I’ve heard.”
Elena’s hands tightened at her sides, and she suspected she would not like what she discovered when she reached the boy’s home. “Is he Irish?”
Her friend shook her head. “He’s Norse, like us. But they built their home farther away from the others.”
When they reached the door, a sudden rise of nerves took hold in Elena’s stomach. “How old is he?”
“Six or seven, as far as I can tell.” Agata led her to a rectangular dwelling that was shadowed.
Her friend stopped outside the door, looking upset.
“When I came this far the last time, they were beating him. I wanted to stop it from happening, but I was alone.” Her face reddened, as if she were embarrassed that she had done nothing.
Elena knocked lightly on the door, but no one answered. Inside the house, she overheard the sound of water splashing. At first, she thought it might be someone washing, but a choking noise caught her attention.
An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach when there was another loud splash. Something was very wrong.
Instinct made Elena throw the door open, only to see a woman holding Matheus’s head under the water. She was trying to drown him.
Elena didn’t stop to think—she threw herself at the woman and pulled her off the boy, dragging him out of the water. He was choking and coughing, his face nearly blue from lack of air.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, though she already knew the answer.
The woman glared at her. “He’s cursed by the gods. Nothing but an empty-headed fool who can’t do anything. He should have died when he was born.”
“And now you’re trying to kill him?” Elena was aghast at the thought. “He’s just a boy.” She went over to Matheus, who was on his hands and knees, water dripping down his matted hair. He wouldn’t look at her, nor did he speak.
“He won’t obey, and I’ve had my fill of it. No one will foster one such as him.”
Elena touched the boy’s shoulder, but he wouldn’t look at her. He sat upon the dirt floor and had wrapped his arms around his knees. He was trembling hard. In the corner, an older dog whimpered, his tail thumping the ground.
His mother opened the door wider. “If you’re wanting to take him, do it now before my husband returns.”
The boy appeared in a state of shock, and he seemed younger than the age of seven. His arms were thin and bony. Bruises covered his small frame and a few cuts had scabbed over on his legs. She couldn’t even tell the color of his eyes.
“I will take him,” Elena heard herself saying. “But he won’t come back to you when he’s grown. Not after you tried to drown him.”
“I don’t care what happens to him.” The woman spat on the ground. “If you want a boy who’s naught but trouble, I won’t be sorry. He’s just a mouth to feed. He’ll never be of any use to anyone.”
Elena glanced back at Agata, who was still waiting outside. Her friend peered inside and asked, “Do you need my help?”
She wasn’t certain. Though she hoped the boy would come of his own accord, he might cry or scream if she tried to touch him. Gently, as if approaching a wounded animal, Elena said, “I’m going to pick you up, and you’ll come with us now. We won’t harm you, I promise.”
He didn’t protest when she lifted him up, and he was so light, she could hardly believe he’d been fed at all. Possibly he hadn’t.
Agata held the door for her, not speaking a word. Elena’s heart was heavy as she turned her back on the boy’s mother, but there was a renewed sense of purpose. She would take the boy home and look after him, teaching him that cruelty did not have to be a part of his life.
“My name is Elena Karlsdotter,” she told him.
Throughout the walk home, she continued to tell him about where they were going and what would happen. In her arms, she felt him shudder. The longer he held his silence, the more she doubted if he was even capable of speech.
Agata stopped before her own home and said, “I have some clothes that my boys outgrew, if you’re wanting some for him.”
“I’d be grateful.” Elena met her friend’s gaze. “And I am glad you brought me to him.” Though she hardly knew the child, if she had come only minutes later, he would have been dead. She cringed at the thought of it.
Agata nodded. “I’ll bring the clothes soon while you take him home and give him a meal. You might also ask for help from Ragnar tonight.”
Though she faltered at the idea of asking him, she recognized that she might indeed need help. Ignoring the woman’s suggestive look, Elena said, “Thank you for the clothes.”
She continued walking back to her own home, but there was no need for Agata to send for Ragnar. He was already there, waiting for her. When he spied her holding the boy, a questioning look came over his face.
“This is Matheus,” Elena said. “He’s going to be my son now.”
At the incredulous look in his eyes, she sent Ragnar a warning look. “We will talk more after he’s had a meal and I’ve tucked him in to sleep.”