Vengeance Hammer (Viking Vengeance)

by Jianne Carlo

  Aye, she mouthed.

  “Think you he has heard of the wedding? I hope not. For I would love to see the look of surprise on his face when he finds out.” Evie stamped a foot. “Think you, you carry a bairn, Xára?”

  The question so shocked Xára, she gasped. She stared at the braided gyrdel hanging low on her belly. Could she? Oh how she longed to talk with Jennie. But could she share the wickedness she and Dráddør had done with Jennie? Was what he’d done with his mouth and tongue 2tween her thighs normal?

  “Sister.” Evie yanked at her sleeve. “Do you?”

  Xára hushed Evie by placing two fingers on the girl’s mouth.

  The thunder of hooves pounding dirt drowned the low murmur of conversation in the kitchens.

  “They are here.” All charade of bravado had vanished from Evie’s tone. Her rosy cheeks paled and she kept glancing to the great hall.

  Xára squeezed Evie’s shoulder and pointed to the servants’ stairs. She picked up her skirts and hurried across the room.

  Evie and Xára dashed up the steps followed closely by the two Vikings while Ulna lumbered behind them. After parting with Evie and Ulna, Xára made her way to the master’s chamber. She was relieved to find Ghazi there awaiting her.

  “My lady, I must make my way to the bailey to stand ready to escort Earl Godfraid. The guards will not leave your side. Not for a single moment. I have come to find out if you have any further instructions for me.”

  She could have kissed the man, but instead touched his arm and indicated that he should enter the room with her. Xára went straight to the sand tray and scribbled. When she drew back, he read her words. “Evie is to remain in her chamber with Ulna. Extra guards for their room. She is not allowed below stairs.”

  Ghazi examined her face. “You fear the earl would harm the child?”

  Chapter Six

  “’Twas a ruse,” Dráddør shouted to be heard over the horses’ pounding hooves. By his estimate, they were but one hill range away from Lathairn. Thank Odin, they had learned of Godfraid’s true direction when they detoured to Myrtle Harbor.

  “Aye. And we fell for it,” Konáll yelled.

  They crested the hummock and Dráddør’s gut twisted. “Loki’s cock be nailed to a cross!”

  When they had seen the three ships anchored in Myrtle Harbor, they knew Godfraid had traveled with either considerable cargo or an army or both. The earl of Leòdhas had brought a sizeable force, and from the looks of the tents being erected around the castle’s walls, expected to stay for some time.

  Dráddør pulled on the reins and slowed his horse to a trot.

  Konáll and Tighe did the same.

  “How many?” Dráddør asked.

  “By my count two score,” Tighe replied. “They have not been here for long. See you, not a canvas has been raised.”

  “Aye. This bodes no good.” Konáll dragged a hand though his hair.

  Their mounts pranced impatiently while the warriors studied the figures darting in all directions. Dráddør scratched his jaw. “No whores or camp followers that I can see.”

  “Aye. They have not been on the move for long. Mayhap Lathairn is his first stop.” Tighe patted his restless stallion.

  “His only stop. Where else can he head from here but to Kenneth’s court?” Dráddør gathered his reins.

  “None, but there or back to his kingdom. Unless, brother, Godfraid intends to make Lathairn part of his holdings.” Konáll scanned the dozens of armed men.

  “Dráddør would have to be dead.” Tighe shrugged. “Otherwise Godfraid goes against the King’s command and he loses all.”

  “Aye, if he kills Dráddør. But what of a fall from a horse? Or bad meat? I like not this sudden arrival of a neighboring lord and three langskips.” Konáll flicked his reins back and forth and studied the frenzied disorder 2tween the river and the castle.

  “Or poison. You needs tell your brother the all of it,” Tighe declared.

  “Aye. I do.” Quickly Dráddør told his brother everything that had happened since they arrived at Lathairn.

  “’Twas wrong of you to keep this from me.” Konáll’s grim tone bespoke a growing anger.

  “I did not want to put your wife and babe in danger of a long besiegement,” Dráddør responded, “And knew well you would refuse to leave until any danger to me was long past.”

  “Egron approaches.” Tighe jutted a chin at a warrior galloping across the field.

  Dráddør kneed his stallion into a canter.

  The three of them met Egron halfway across the meadow. The warriors formed a tight circle around Egron.

  “What news?” Dráddør demanded.

  “Earl Godfraid and his wife arrived right after the None prayers.”

  Egron’s rasped words knitted Dráddør’s gut into a tight coil. “Wife?”

  “Aye. Ghazi said he feared Lady Xára would swoon, she went so white when she learned of his wife’s name.”

  “Xára does not seem the kind of female easily cowered,” Tighe stated.

  “Nay.” Dráddør recalled the way Xára had paled when she wrote the name of Arnfinn’s mistress. Magnhildur, Lady Jennie’s cousin. Nay. What man would wed another’s leman? Then he remembered a King who had married his enemy’s mistress.

  “To Lathairn!” Dráddør dug his heels into the horse’s flanks. They flew over the tall grasses.

  Godfraid’s warriors parted and gave the four men a wide berth.

  Hordes packed the bailey and the tight press of bodies forced Dráddør to slow the stallion to a walk. The few familiar faces he recognized all showed signs of worry and fear. He noticed the people of the castle avoided Godfraid’s warriors and kept their distance.

  Before the horse halted at the foot of the castle stairs, Dráddør sprang off his mount, threw the reins to one of the waiting boys, and climbed the steps at a leisurely pace, though he had to garner all his discipline to do so. Broadcasting his alarm benefitted none but Godfraid.

  Konáll, Tighe, and Egron caught up with him right before he entered the great hall.

  “How do we play this?” Tighe asked.

  “We greet guests in the name of King Kenneth and King Harald.” Dráddør kept a firm grip on the handle of his hammer. “We extend our hospitality to Earl Godfraid and his wife.”

  “My lord.” The castle steward, Haakon, stepped in front of them. “Lady Xára—”

  “Is here and ready to greet her Viking husband,” Evie nigh shrieked the words as she pushed through the room towing a white-faced Xára in her wake.

  Dráddør could not drag his attention from Xára and Evelyn as they threaded through the crowd.

  “Your wife’s cheeks are not rosy.”

  Dráddør barely heard the Tighe’s muttered words. He saw naught but the sheer terror in Xára’s eyes. He elbowed Tighe and then Evie out of the way and hooked an arm around his wife’s waist. “To me, Xára. Trust, remember?”

  She gave him a poor imitation of a smile. Dráddør turned his attention to her sister. “Evelyn—”

  “Evie not Evelyn.” The sprite craned her neck to stare at him and waggled her pale brows. “We must needs go to your chamber. There is much we have to tell you.”

  Dráddør understood Evie’s frantic gesture and emphasis at once. He twined his fingers with Xára’s and the clammy feel of her palm ratcheted his rising disquiet. “Aye. Lead the way, sprite. Tighe—”

  “Egron, Ghazi, and I will deal with matters. See to your wife.” Tighe inclined his head.

  “My thanks, friend.”

  “I am to Nyssa. My unease grows. See you how many of Godfraid’s warriors have ne’er seen a beard.” Konáll muttered. “Somewhat is amiss.”

  Dráddør scanned the gathered soldiers. Most were older youths still on the threshold of full manhood. He spied only a few seasoned warriors amongst Godfraid’s army. An experienced leader would never have picked so many green boy-men to take into battle. Somewhat was amiss. “Agreed. But there is naug
ht we can do but stay on guard. I must speak with Xára and the sprite at once.” Sore tempted to swing Xára into his arms, Dráddør instead bent, picked up a startled Evie, and hiked her on one hip. He set off at a quick pace.

  “’Tis like being in a tree,” Evie said. She wrapped her little legs around him tighter and took ahold of a hank of his hair. “I am King of the great hall. Nay. Now I am King of the stairs.”

  Xára squirmed around him to glower at Evie.

  “What do you with my hair?” Dráddør winced when the little girl tugged harder.

  “I am redoing your war braids. They have become loose. Vikings have war braids and they paint runes on their faces. I do not know any runes. I saw the handle of your hammer is covered with them. Have you a spare leather tie? I dropped the one I untied.” Evelyn’s nervous chattering would normally amuse him, but he was anxious to hear what had happened, and barely listened to the girl’s discombobulated prattle.

  Dráddør set Evie on her feet and expected the girl to quiet, but he discovered she could talk even while doing cartwheels to the bed. “I always forget my ties and then my hair goes wild. Then I must sit forever while Ulna re-plaits it. Have you given Xára a bairn yet?”

  He suppressed a grin. Like Hjørdis, Evie skipped from one subject to another so fast his head spun. There was only one sure method of dealing with a flighty young girl—take command at once.

  Xára headed for the chair and the sand-tray.

  “Sit, Evie.” Dráddør folded his arms and glowered down at the girl. “Over there next to Xára. Start from the beginning. When did Godfraid arrive?”

  “Right after the bells rang for the None prayers.” The girl sat, shifted her wayward skirts back into place, and swung her legs.

  Godfraid had arrived not long after he and Tighe left. Konáll must have missed him by a hair’s breath. “Why did Xára nigh faint when she met Godfraid’s wife?”

  All the mischief and impishness vanished from Evie’s face. She hung her head. “Because he wed Magnhildur.”

  Xára finished writing and motioned for him and Evie to read.

  “I am to tell him all. All? E’en of yours and my seidr? I am to speak the forbidden?” Evie wrung her hands.

  Xára clamped hers around Evie’s and mouthed, All.

  Seidr? Evie thought herself a witch? Dráddør inspected the white faces of his wife and her sister. More lies of omission.

  Evie jumped when a hard fist pounded on the door.

  “Dráddør. Nyssa insists she sees Xára.” Konáll sounded frustrated and annoyed.

  “Enter.” Dráddør hadn’t taken his eyes off Xára. He recalled what she had written earlier. “Godfraid married Arnfinn’s mistress?”

  “Mistress?” Evie frowned.

  The door opened and Nyssa glided in. She went straight to Xára, but when she sank to one knee, Konáll scooped her up and growled, “Nay, wife. You will sit on a chair.”

  “Then put me on the bed and have Xára sit near me. I have had an earful from Ulna.”

  “Ulna?” Dráddør had not heard the name afore.

  “She was Xára’s nurse and is now Evie’s,” Nyssa replied.

  Konáll set his wife down on the covers and eased two bed cushions behind her back. “You are not to over excite yourself.”

  “Aye, husband.” Nyssa cupped Konáll’s jaw and pressed her lips to his. “The babe is fine. I am well.”

  Dráddør’s temples throbbed. Why had Nyssa been speaking with Evie’s nurse? And what had she learned that required her to speak to them at once?

  “I am afeared for the safety of the women under your protection.” Nyssa shifted on the straw and wriggled a bed cushion free. “’Twould seem there is much that has been kept from you.”

  “Am I to infer you believe Lady Jennie and Evelyn as well as Xára are in danger?” Dráddør massaged the side of his head.

  “Aye. You have the right of it.” Nyssa stroked her swollen belly. “Especially Evie.”

  Evie had been quiet for too long. Dráddør spied her sneaking to the door. “Sit, Evie.”

  “Nay. Let her go. Evie, give me your word, you will go straight to Ulna, and do as she says.” Nyssa waved a finger. “Now. Your vow on your honor.”

  Evie sullenly gave her oath, dipped a curtsey, and sprinted through the doorway.

  “Bar the door,” Nyssa ordered.

  Konáll did as his wife commanded. “Now?”

  “Aye. Evelyn is not Arnfinn’s child. ’Tis the truth, Xára?”

  Dráddør heard the same little sound Xára made when he pleasured her, but ’twas filled with distress. He went to her at once, lifted her high against his chest, walked to the other side of the bed, and placed her on the mattress. “I will bring your sand tray.”

  Konáll cleared his throat. “Who sired Evie and why is this of import? We waste time. The Vesper bells will ring and we must all be present to start the meal.”

  “Lady Jennie is Evie’s mother?”

  “Aye, she is. You are making me dizzy, husband, Dráddør. Sit you both down. Ulna claims Evie is the daughter of Ard Greimme.”

  Dráddør stifled a vile curse. He clamped both hands behind his back and paced the length of the bed. “I agree with Konáll. Why is the fact that Evie is the progeny of the Celtic sun-god of import?”

  The Vesper bells began to peal.

  “She is a half-immortal like me. You know there are many who believe taking the maidenhead of such a female will bring them great power. Before Néill left Latharin he discovered who had sired Evie. Ulna says he is a man who swives young boys and girls by preference. We cannot tarry, longer. I did not want you two facing an enemy without full knowledge.” Nyssa swung her legs to one side.

  “We have no time for more. Xára, did Arnfinn know any of this?” Dráddør helped his wife to stand and held out his arm. They had to be the first ones at the high table to receive the strangers as custom dictated. Normally he and his brothers did not stand on ceremony, but this eve Godfraid must suffer no slight, however small.

  Xára nodded. She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.

  “Before a word scrapes out of your mouth, husband, we will attend the náttverðr, and I will walk to the hall. Albeit at a snail’s pace, but under the command of mine own two feet. I will not meet this Magnhildur the Magnificent like a cowering ninny.”

  Dráddør noticed Xára’s frown at the Norse word. “’Tis what we call the evening meal.”

  She flashed him a grin and mouthed, My Thanks.

  Nyssa, assisted by Konáll, lumbered off the bed. She straightened her skirts and pinched her cheeks.

  Dráddør glanced down to find his wife performing the same rituals. In truth, her face needed the pinch of color and her paleness alarmed him. “Tell me with your fingers, how long have you lived at Lathairn with Arnfinn’s mistress?”

  She held up five fingers.

  “Winters?”

  A shake of her head.

  “Moons?” Konáll held the door open for them.

  Another nay.

  It could not be. “Five eves?”

  She nodded.

  Dráddør tried to make sense out of it all as they followed Konáll and Nyssa down the stairs. He frowned. “When were you sent to Circe Fearn Abbey?”

  Ten fingers.

  “You had seen ten summers?” At her nodded assent he asked, “And then to Touft Abbey?”

  Ten and three fingers.

  Naught made sense.

  A commotion on the other side of the great hall drew his attention. Two figures slowly made their way through the crowded chamber. Earl Godfraid and his wife, Dráddør decided, for both were garbed in the manner of court and dripped jeweled rings and necklaces to display their wealth.

  Dráddør tucked Xára’s arm into his and spoke out of the side of his mouth, “Trust in me. I protect what is mine. You, Evie, and Jennie are mine.”

  His low mutter seemed to calm Xára She gave his forearm a little squeeze and met his g
aze wearing a smile, a tremulous one, but a smile nonetheless.

  * * *

  Godfraid.

  Xára tried to swallow, but the lump of fear in her throat seemed to double in size. Magnhildur. Oh, she feared Godfraid for good reason, but the thought of facing Magnhildur again had her fingers trembling and her heart skipping in leaps and bounds. Automatically her hand went to her throat. She massaged the skin there to no avail. The slight, ever present burn there intensified.

  She sent a silent thanks to Ghazi who, when he had seen the size of Godfraid’s force, had ordered her and Evie taken to their chambers and commanded they stay there until he summoned them. Thank the Lord she had not had to face Godfraid and Magnhildur alone. When Ghazi had sent a message that Dráddør and Konáll had returned, she had nigh swooned in relief.

  The dreaded moment had arrived. Xára kept her gaze fixed on Dráddør’s bronzed fingers and tried not to gag when the sickly sweet perfume Magnhildur favored assaulted her nose. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the white lace that trimmed the hem of the woman’s scarlet gown.

  “I bid you welcome to my keep, Earl Godfraid. ’Tis an honor to receive you and your lady.” Dráddør sketched a bow without ever letting go of Xára’s hand, for which she was utmost grateful.

  Xára risked a quick peek at the man standing in front of her husband.

  Godfraid was not what she had imagined at all for he was of the same age as Arnfinn. She had expected a warrior in his prime, not a man with a lined face who colored his graying hair with walnut bark dye.

  “My thanks for your hospitality, Lord Dráddør. I was most anxious to make your acquaintance as we serve the same monarchs. My congratulations on your new title and lands. May I present my wife, Lady Magnhildur?”

  “An honor.” Dráddør brushed his lips over Magnhildur’s hand. “And may I present my wife, Lady Xára?”

  The moment she’d been dreading came and went like a flicker. She bowed her head, curtsied, allowed rough hands to capture hers, held her breath, and did not flinch when slimy, wet lips brushed her fingers.