Season of the Sun

by Catherine Coulter

  Zarabeth picked up the drowsing child, only to look around. It was clear she did not know what to do.

  Magnus rose and tried to make his way with great nonchalance toward her. “Zarabeth,” he called out quietly. “Lotti will remain here in the longhouse. Let me show you where she will sleep.”

  Her relief was evident, but she only nodded. Magnus led her to the far end of the hall, where there were small chambers, partitioned off from each other on either side of the longhouse, leaving a narrow corridor in the middle. “In here,” he said. Inside the small chamber was a single large box bed upon which lay four young children. They were sleeping soundly. “Here,” he said, and neatly picked up one child after the other, pushing them more closely together. He lifted the woolen cover and held it silently until Lotti, smiling sleepily up at both of them, closed her eyes.

  “Thank you,” Zarabeth said, not looking at him.

  “You would not be pleased if she slept in the slave hut and you slept here.”

  She looked up at him then, but remained mute.

  “Aye, Zarabeth, you will sleep in my bed tonight, and any other night it pleases me to have you there.”

  14

  “You have Cyra. She’s beautiful and she wants you. Why would you want me?”

  Suddenly, without warning, Magnus ran his fingers through his hair, standing it on end, and he cursed long and fluently. Then he had to laugh at himself. He’d clearly lost his head and forgotten the circumstances. He said aloud, “It is a feast night, and all will remain here until the morrow. My parents, aye, they will have my bed.” He laughed again, shaking his head at himself.

  “You will not make Lotti leave, will you?”

  He heard the fear in her voice and it angered him more than he could ever have imagined. “Don’t you care about yourself? Of course Lotti will remain where she is. Come, now, you have tasks to do. Tonight you will sleep wrapped in a blanket in the hall.” He sighed again as if he were sorely put upon, and she had an odd urge to laugh.

  Ingunn put Zarabeth to scrubbing wooden plates and bowls and iron pots and spoons, which she did willingly, for it kept her to herself and away from the men. When she heard a woman’s voice, she didn’t at first attend. The woman said again, “Your name is Zarabeth?”

  Zarabeth looked up to see Helgi, Magnus’ mother. Her face was flushed from the warmth of the hall and the wine she’d drunk. Zarabeth looked closely, but she saw no meanness in her fine blue eyes. Zarabeth remembered Magnus telling her about how his mother rocked and shook the huge butter churn. There had been love in his voice when he’d spoken of Helgi. She was a large woman, deep-bosomed, her hair silver, it was so light. She had a deep cleft in her chin, which she’d given to her son.

  Zarabeth nodded.

  “I have listened to Magnus’ men telling all about how he saved you from a certain death, for you had murdered your husband.”

  “He saved me, that is true.”

  “The other is not true?”

  Zarabeth shook her head wearily. “No, it isn’t, but it matters not. He won’t ever believe me.” She shook back her damp hair and bared the slave collar. “I am nothing to him now. Nothing save a slave.”

  Helgi sucked in her breath. She hadn’t seen the collar before, for the woman’s hair was long and the neck of her gown high. Why had Magnus done such a thing to this woman? “Why did he save you?”

  “I believe he wanted revenge.”

  “Mother! Leave her be. Don’t listen to her. She doesn’t ever speak the truth.”

  Helgi turned to her Magnus. “It isn’t true that you bought her to gain revenge?”

  “It matters not why I bought her! She is here, and here she will remain.”

  “Yes, that is true,” Zarabeth said, her voice loud. “I have no choice, for so long as he holds my little sister, there is naught I can do.”

  Magnus forgot his mother was standing in front of him. Furious, he grabbed her wrist, jerking her close to him. “You will not say that again, damn you! I have told you that Lotti will never be a lever for me to use, for anyone to use. The child is under my protection.”

  “I do not believe you. You will threaten the child when you think it will bring me to heel.”

  Helgi watched the two of them and wondered what would happen. Never had she seen Magnus so lost to control. Of her three sons, he was the one who remained firmly in command of himself in any situation. He prided himself on his mastery of others and of himself. He was always calm, his voice easy and low. Whenever he felt strongly about something, his voice deepened even more, but he never, never bellowed in rage, as he was doing now. Now he was acting like his younger brother, Jon, who yelled and cursed and carped with frustration and irritation and didn’t care if the whole farmstead knew of his feelings. It was a marvel to see this. Obviously Magnus cared deeply for the young woman with the wild nimbus of red hair around her face. He just didn’t realize it yet. Or perhaps he did, and he was fighting it as hard as he was her. Helgi laid her fingers on her son’s arm. “Release her, Magnus. You have never before abused a slave. You should not begin now.”

  “Aye, go to your Cyra!”

  He smiled down at Zarabeth then, but it was not a smile his mother liked. “No, I shan’t abuse you. And no, I shan’t go to Cyra.” He turned on his heel and went back to his father and brothers, who were singing loudly of King Harald Fairhair and how he had slain the rapacious Gorm of Denmark by strangling him with his long thick hair.

  Time passed slowly. Zarabeth was so tired she felt light-headed. Yet there were always more bowls, more plates, more trays, more goblets. An endless stream. She saw from the corner of her eye that the other slaves were gone to their hut. But she was being punished. Many of the men were asleep, their heads on the tables, snoring loudly. The fire was banked, and no more smoke went upward to the hole in the roof. Many guests were stretched out in neat rows, each wrapped in his blanket. Ingunn came over to her, yawning loudly. “You work slowly, slave. You will not close your eyes until you have completed this.”

  Zarabeth remembered Magnus’ words. Lotti is under my protection. Very well, then. She would believe him in this. Her little sister wouldn’t pay for anything she did. She smiled at Magnus’ sister and said, “Nay, I think not, Ingunn. I am weary and will seek out my bed now, as all the other slaves have done.”

  Ingunn drew in her breath sharply. She hadn’t expected this. Her anger flared. “You dare?”

  “Aye, I dare.” Zarabeth shrugged and turned away from the wooden tub filled with dirty dishes.

  “I will flay the flesh from your back, you slut!”

  Zarabeth saw the flash of unrestrained fury in the woman’s eyes, but she paid her no heed. She walked quickly away, toward the large wooden doors on the longhouse. She shoved them open and went out into the night. But the strange thing was that it still wasn’t night, not like night at home. This was the time of year when night didn’t fall. It was well past midnight, yet the sky was still gray with dim light, as if it were late afternoon and rain was coming at any moment.

  It was warm, with a mild breeze blowing up from the viksfjord. In the distance, across the water the mountains were shrouded in magnificent shadow and low clouds. She vaguely remembered the endless dipping and rolling green hills from her home in western Ireland, and that billowing mist that blew off the sea, always warm and always damp. Here it was dry and warm and so beautiful she wanted to weep with the irony of it all. But there was really no irony in it at all.

  She lowered her face into her hands and sobbed.

  She felt his large hands encircle her arms, felt him draw her back against his chest. The sobs wouldn’t stop. She felt weak and out of control, and she supposed, vaguely, that she was, and she didn’t care.

  Slowly Magnus turned her to face him and drew her into his arms. He felt the force of her tears, felt the convulsive shudders go through her body.

  “You’re tired,” he said after a long moment. “You are tired, and that is why you a
re crying.”

  She raised her face and looked up at him in the dim light. “Is that what you wish to believe, Magnus?”

  He lowered his head then and kissed her. He tasted the salty wetness on her lips. It hurt him deeply, this pain of hers. He brought his hands up her back to hold her still, and his fingers closed around her throat. And stilled at the touch of the slave collar.

  He’d had the smithy put it on her. He’d watched as the smithy placed the collar Magnus had selected around her throat. He’d watched her become paler and paler until her face had seemed washed of color. And when the collar was around her neck, he’d watched her eyes become blank and empty.

  But it was her fault. She had enraged him, trying to seduce another man. He’d had no choice.

  Slowly he pushed her away from him.

  He didn’t want to, but he looked down at her. Her cheeks glistened wet and her eyes still brimmed with unshed tears.

  “Why did you betray me? Why?” He took a quick step back, away from her, appalled at his weakness, at the anguish in his voice. By Odin, that she could have brought him to this.

  Zarabeth watched his face change, watched his eyes grow cold, watched him distance himself from her.

  “I didn’t betray you.”

  “Liar. Get inside the longhouse. You will sleep now, for there is much that will require your attention on the morrow.”

  He turned on his heel and left her, not returning inside, but striding toward the gates of the palisade. She watched him speak to the guards, then pull up the thick wooden shaft that barred the gates.

  She turned slowly and walked back into the longhouse. There was no free place for her to sleep on the floor. Men snored loudly, as did some of the women. There were two couples who were caressing each other, but they were too sodden with drink to do much about it. Zarabeth stood irresolute for a moment, then made her way to the small chamber where Lotti and the children were sleeping. She lifted her sister and slipped into the bed. The other children obligingly shoved more closely together. Zarabeth was asleep within moments, Lotti snuggled close to her body.

  Magnus believed she had left him. He searched every sleeping body in the large hall. She wasn’t there. He looked in every chamber, his temper and his fear for her growing in equal measure. Finally, when he saw her asleep with the children, he thought he would collapse with the relief he felt. He shook his head at himself and took a blanket outside in the cool of the night. When sleep finally came, there was a woman in his mind, as real as the deep strokes of his heart, and she was taunting him, laughing at him, and when she turned, she had no face. She threw back her head, lifting her hair, and there was an iron collar around her neck.

  It was late the following morning before all the men had left to return to their families. Magnus’ brothers and parents remained until after the midday meal before taking their leave.

  Zarabeth served them, silent and stiff, dark shadows beneath her eyes. Her gown was wrinkled and soiled from spilled food and her cleaning from the night before. Magnus wondered why she had not garbed herself in fresh clothing, why she hadn’t washed herself in the bathhouse. Her hair was in a thick braid that hung between her shoulder blades. He noticed that every few moments her eyes searched out Lotti, who was playing with the other children. He saw his son watching the little girl, and there was meanness in Egill’s clear blue eyes. He sighed. If only the boy would understand. He cursed softly, then turned to his brother Mattias, who said calmly as he chewed on a piece of warm bread, “You must deal with the woman. This cannot continue.”

  “It has only begun. What mean you?”

  “You, Magnus, freely offer me your impertinent advice about my wife. To do you justice, I admit that I did allow Glyda to enjoy herself last night with my body. I felt her womb when I spilled my seed into her. Perhaps this time she will bear me a live child.” Mattias paused a moment, staring toward Zarabeth. “I am not blind, nor am I particularly stupid. You watch this woman with her strange red hair like a hungry wolf who wants to devour her or strangle her. Then you gaze at her as though you would give your life to protect her. You can explain it to me, brother. Have you lost your wits and your manhood to this wench who poisoned her husband?”

  “It is none of your concern.”

  “Father wished to know all of it, and so Horkel was bound to tell him what had happened. He says that you have acted with great honor.”

  “Horkel knows little of anything. He knows almost nothing, and yet he brays on and on.”

  “He knew that you wished to marry the wench and that she betrayed you.”

  “Enough, Mattias. I see Jon over there teasing one of my women. I will go best him with swords. He grows audacious as he gains his man years.”

  Mattias watched his brothers buffet each other on the shoulder and proceed to insult each other with easy fluency. He watched them draw their swords and go into mock battle. Jon was built more slightly than his powerful brother, but he was faster, his movements agile. Both of them were laughing, mocking each other’s skills. There would be no spilled blood, not today, not between these brothers. Men began to gather around them and shout advice.

  “I would speak to Magnus about Orm,” Harald said to his eldest son, Mattias. “I trust not the whelp. He will try to take Ingunn, I doubt it not.”

  “Ingunn would not go with him.”

  “Ha! I am not so certain of that. She mouths all the right words, Mattias, but she wants him. The girl is sullen and gives me evil looks. Her temper has always been uncertain; it becomes more uneven now that I have refused her Orm. And even if she obeyed me and rejected him, he would force her, and then I would have to kill him.” Harald sighed deeply. “What if he gets her with child before I can kill him?”

  Mattias laughed. “Father, you weave a tale with an ending that suits you not, even before the tale can come to its beginning! Magnus is here now. He will not allow Orm to come within the palisade gates.”

  Harald grunted, but was still frowning as he looked toward his daughter, Ingunn, who was talking to Zarabeth. She was angry, he could tell from even this distance. He hoped she would not strike the woman again. There would be trouble, though, he scented it in the air, just as he knew Orm would move on Malek to take Ingunn.

  Ingunn was furious at the woman’s insolence. Her hands trembled. “All you do is look at that foolish little girl! You will work, slave, else I will have you whipped!”

  At that moment Egill, angry because Lotti had taken the thrown ball not intended for her, bellowed and threw himself upon the child. Lotti, not hearing him, had no warning, and Egill knocked her flat.

  Zarabeth cried out and ran to the children. She lifted Egill and threw him off Lotti. When she turned the child over, she blinked in mute surprise. Lotti was grinning and pointing at Egill.

  She shouted in her slurred yet perfectly recognizable way, “Egill! Fun!”

  To Zarabeth’s further astonishment, Lotti scrambled to her feet, shouting again, “Egill!” at the top of her lungs, and hurled herself at the boy. They went down together, arms and legs tangling, buffeting each other.

  The children watched just for a brief moment; then they paired off and four different fights began.

  Magnus, through sheer strength, pressed Jon’s sword beside his face. “Do you cry ‘Enough,’ little brother?”

  “Aye, but only until next time, Magnus!”

  The men laughed and sheathed their swords. Then Magnus looked up to see all their audience turned away. And he saw the children wrestling, fighting, yelling, and his first thought was of Lotti. He felt a coldness in his belly. “Quickly!” he called to Jon, and ran toward the children.

  To his surprise, there was Lotti, sitting astride Egill, her small hands fisted in his hair, yanking and laughing and bouncing up and down on him. As for his son, Egill was pulling at the little girl, trying to jerk her off him, but Lotti’s legs were strong and she wasn’t ready to give up her advantage. Magnus realized quickly that the boy was doing his b
est not to hurt her, and it pleased him. He saw soon enough that Egill was also trying not to laugh.

  Magnus saw Zarabeth lean over and grasp Lotti beneath the arms and lift her. Zarabeth was laughing and kissing the child’s dirty face. The sound was sweet and magical and it lighted up her face. He swallowed, turning away. It was the first time she had laughed since . . . No, he wouldn’t remember that. It had all been a lie, all of it.

  He wanted her. He bided his time all during the long day. He went hunting with his men, taking Egill with them. He watched her throughout the evening, working and serving, and always, she watched Lotti. He wanted to tell her that every adult in the house was aware of every child, but he didn’t. She wouldn’t believe him. The hours passed, and still he watched her. He had dismissed Cyra, had finally told Ingunn that Zarabeth had worked enough. He saw that his sister wasn’t pleased at his interference, but she nodded, saying nothing. Still, he waited. He watched her pick up Lotti and carry her off to bed.

  He waited another half-hour. Horkel began a song of Magnus’ father, the hero in a sea battle of some twenty winters past, and how he had captured twenty slaves and several casks of gold and silver.

  At last, when others were yawning, Magnus rose and bade his good-nights. It took him not long to realize that Zarabeth wasn’t in the longhouse. He went to the slave hut. She wasn’t there. He found her speaking to one of his guards who sat at his post atop the northern palisade. Magnus felt rage and jealousy flow through him until he realized with pain at his own weakness that the man was Hollvard, an old man, wizened, toothless, and with frailty in his muscles.

  He walked quietly to them and stopped.

  “Aye, mistress,” Hollvard was saying in his slow precise way, “there be outlaws in the mountains, and so many places for them to hide. Aye, even a man with six other men must take care. ’Tis not always easy, this time or this land.”

  “Zarabeth,” Magnus said, and placed his hand on her shoulder. He felt her stiffen, but she made no sound.