by Sandra Lake
“We shall wed as soon as Father is able to attend.” Valto kissed her daughter’s hand.
“That might not be for months,” her daughter pouted.
“Patience, my beauty. Patience,” Valto said. He turned to leave. “Mother insisted I bring Lida straight to Father.” He smirked and strolled toward the red stone fortress.
“This is so unfair. That snotty brat and her mother will have a place of honor equal to ours. I wish we could just kill her already and get on with it.”
“Patience, girl. If we move too quickly, before shoring up support, we will risk it all.”
“Dag will take care of it.”
“Your idiot brother is uncontrollable. Unleash him at the wrong time and we’ll lose our advantage. Think ahead.” Klara ground her teeth, frustrated with her daughter. “We need Valto and his men, for now. Which means we need Helika too. Once they have both served their purpose, then you can do what you like.”
“I hate that old crow. She had me scrub her scaly old skin in the sauna yesterday. I lost my appetite for the entire day.”
“You won’t have to deal with her for much longer. The bishop’s men will be arriving in a few days. Casper is ready with the Slavic ship—they’re camped in the south inlet. After the brat has been kidnapped and the abduction blamed on the Slavic pirates spotted off the coast, full-fledged war will break out, and you know what happens in wars?”
Janetta smiled. “Jarls can die in wars, just as easily as any man. Doesn’t matter if the blade that slays him comes from his enemy or his trusted squire. After a battle, all dead warriors look the same.”
“And Axel will have Tronscar, and you, my girl, will have this miserable city to make into something grand,” Klara said.
***
Lida followed as Helika lead them out of the chief’s chamber. The older woman was limping, her shoulders hunched. She seemed to have shrunk over the years. Or perhaps it was that Lida held her head up higher.
From the balcony rail, Lida overlooked the debauched hall. Valto’s men were past the point of merry revelry and had entered into the fighting, vomiting, and passing out portion of the evening. Her hand grew sweatier as she clutched the dagger concealed in the secret pocket of her gown. She wrapped her other arm around her daughter and pulled her in closer.
“Did that satisfy you?” Helika spoke with the same amount of bitter hatred she had always held for Lida.
She was referring what had taken place just moments before. The chief had clung to Katia’s hand, pleading forgiveness before he faced his son in the afterlife. Her brave, sweet girl had stroked the dying man’s hand and said that there was naught to forgive, that her mother had not raised her to begrudge anyone. The chief wept bitterly, pleading for forgiveness nonetheless, which Katia had freely given before the chief had drifted into unconsciousness. From his gray skin, sour smell, and labored breathing, Lida expected his suffering would soon be over. His death was perhaps only days away.
“Why did you truly come here?” Helika hissed. “To gloat, to rub his face in his shame before his miserable death?”
Lida drew Magnus’s spirit into her heart and spoke with his power and conviction. “Nay.” She would not cower, nor flinch. “I want nothing more than to leave this island forever. Your son brought us here with a signed decree from the bishop. I will gladly depart if you will have Katia released—”
“What decree?” Helika demanded.
“The bishop’s decree, demanding the return of the chief’s granddaughter. Valto went so far as to state that I stole her from the chief. When Jarl Magnus hears of this, you know what he will do, don’t you? It will be war with Norrland, Helika. Are you so blind with your contempt for me that you believe Lylasku can defend itself against the jarl’s fleet?”
The old woman’s eyes grew wide, clearly overwhelmed with the new information. “You lie. You were always a liar.” With growing dread, Lida realized Helika was no longer in command nor control of her son.
Lida tucked Katia under her arm and moved quickly to their assigned chamber at the end of a long dark corridor. “Come, my love.” She tugged her daughter inside and shut the door behind them.
“Mama?” Katia said in a low voice. “I miss my real family. My father’s family is strange, and they all smell sour and in need of a bath.”
Lida’s hands shook as she slid the thin wood bar across the door. “I miss our real family as well,” she said. A kick from an average-sized man would knock the door in. She needed to find a new place to hide tomorrow. Perhaps she could find a friend among Otso’s brothers.
Lida clutched an arm across her full breasts. Were her sons hungry? Were they cold? What if she never saw them again and they grew into men thinking their mother had abandoned them? They would scorn her for sending them away, scorn all of womankind for it, just as her husband had done. Would they ever understand the impossible choice she’d had to make in letting them go? Would that matter to them?
“Jarl Magnus will come get us soon, Mama. We needn’t worry.” Katia patted her hand. Lida circled her arms around her daughter and pressed her into her chest.
“Of course he will, my love. Of course he will,” she said.
Chapter 28
The violent temper of the Gulf of Bothnia rivaled Magnus’s own. The frothing green sea bit violently at their ships’ hulls. There was a certain satisfaction that came with knowing the old gods were equally enraged. Night and day, Magnus pushed his fleet to row and sail with a collective bloodthirsty determination. He had moored half of his fleet in the safe harbor of Upland in order to conserve manpower. With clear skies, they navigated by the stars and sailed through the night. By Otso’s calculations, this would be the eighth night his wife and daughter had been held, unprotected, in Lyyski’s hands.
His fingernails dug deeper into the handle of the tiller.
“May I speak with you, Jarl Magnus?” The Danish ambassador approached the helm.
Magnus had no interest in another man’s ideas of how he treated his men or sailed his ship. He still wasn’t clear as to why Count Charles had insisted on coming, nor why his four ships followed close behind.
“I have no time for your words, Dane. We land in Lylasku before midday.”
“We’ve made excellent time.” The Count nodded and glared out over the surging sea. He displayed no signs of concern for the crashing waves or the relentless pelting of sea spray on his face.
“If you should require more men or ships, I will send for my additional ships in Turku, or for a fleet of pirates in the south that owe me a few favors. Will it come to that, you think? I do not have much knowledge of this Lyyski chief. Is he very powerful?”
“At one time, Lyssku had some strength, but that was lost many years ago,” Magnus said. “They are primarily fishermen. They have no defenses. It will take but a foot on their shore and they will be crushed beneath us.”
“That confident? Beware that you do not miss a step. Pride usually comes before a fall,” the count said.
Magnus squinted his eyes. Where had he heard that before . . . Katia? “How have you been misled into believing my wife is your niece? As I explained to you months ago, she is the daughter of a lowborn farmer in Turku. He does not even hold land along the shoreline.”
“He does now.”
“Speak what you have to say. I have no time for your games.”
“I gifted my brother-in-law the land connecting his farm to the port. He is a proud man and would not accept gold. Twas the least I could do for all he had done for my family. Ingerid, Lida’s mother, she is my sister. She is the twin to my sister Caecilia, who by chance is married to your second cousin Errik in Denmark.”
“Why are you discovering this now?” Magnus asked.
“I have just discovered that my sister Ingerid is alive. You cannot possibly understand how full my heart feels and how frustrated
I am that my happiness could be taken away again so quickly.” The count lost his footing with the surging sea.
Magnus reached out and grabbed him, forcing the old man to sit on the bench. “What was that you were saying about pride and falling, count?”
“Fair point, Magnus.” He drew a deep breath and continued, “Our father was King Canute. After he and my brothers were slain in a coup, our mother separated all her surviving children in order to keep us safe and ensure that at least some of us would survive the slaughter. Our enemies were those of our own household: my half cousins and my father’s steward.
“So our mother scattered us to the wind, hiding us from everyone, even one another. She did not care if we received titles or claimed our inheritance. She simply wanted us to live.” The count cleared the emotion from his throat. “It was your stepdaughter and what she said about love being destined. My sisters always said that. I left your table abruptly and headed straight for Turku. Ingerid was said to have died along with my mother’s trusted guard, Helki, but in fact she has been alive this whole time, living in Finland, having children and happily growing turnips.” The count’s eyebrows were pinched together, bewildered at his own tale.
“She knows too many tongues for a farmer’s wife. Lida and Katia are too clever.” Magnus groaned. He was not entirely surprised. His mother-in-law was soft-spoken and well educated, and had all the makings of any highborn daughter raised to be a queen—not farmhand.
“I begged Ingerid to come home with me, to reunite with Caecilia, but she refused, saying she was content and wanted to stay. Caecilia is with her presently. Hence the reason I have so many ships available in Turku if you have need of them.”
“Lida said her mother was Swedish,” Magnus murmured. If his cousin heard of this, there would be no end to the political campaigning Magnus would be subjected to.
Curse blood ties.
“No doubt that was the false identity Helki gave his children. But none of it is true. Your wife is pure Danish blood. Helki hails from an honorable line of kings’ guardsmen. He saved my mother’s life, from Konrad ‘The Pretender.’ My cousin’s plan included defiling and impregnating my sister to secure his claim to my father’s throne. Helki stole into Konrad’s camp and recovered her. All she will tell me is that she was in a sorry state and remained so for sometime after. My mother sent them to hide in Finland until after her child by my cousin was born. Only, after pretending to live as husband and wife with her guard, my sister decided she wouldn’t give Helki up.”
“My sons are Swedish, Finnish, and half Dane? Thor’s blood!” Magnus shook his head.
“Actually, Lida’s father was a Danish commander, so considering your mother’s Danish blood, that makes your children mostly Danish and a mere quarter Swede,” the count corrected.
Before he snapped the wood handle of the tiller in two, Magnus resigned the helm to Aleksi and withdrew below deck. He lay down, closed his eyes, and commanded himself to rest.
Behind his eyelids, his beautiful wife smiled at him, opening her nightgown to feed his sons, their small plump hands batting at her face for attention. She cooed and bathed the boys in soft kisses.
A wave cracked against the ship. His head slammed against the plank hull, robbing him of his dream. Had any of it been real?
An annum ago, all he knew of life was protecting, serving, and expanding Tronscar.
Now, if he lost one member of his family, if even one was harmed or injured, he would be decimated. He now fully grasped how a kingdom could rise and fall over the loss of love. Without his family, Tronscar could crumble for all he cared.
***
“Where is the fancy whore and her brat?” Janetta demanded of her serving maid.
“Janetta!” Helika called out from across the empty hall. “I will have a word with you.”
When Janetta arrived at the table, Klara grabbed her daughter’s arm and said into her ear, “Mind your temper. Casper’s ships have not fully assembled and prepared.”
“Ugh, useless sod. I wish Axel were coming,” Janetta said. She then spun around to face Helika, the newly widowed mistress of Lylasku. “Forgive me for not coming to sit with you sooner, mistress. I was busy overseeing preparations for the memorial feast. I wish all to be perfect for his excellency.” Janetta was getting sloppy with her impatience. Anyone could read through her forgery.
The old woman rolled her eyes. “That won’t be necessary. I have spoken to the cooks and taken care of what needs to be done. Now, where is my son?”
“He is resting, mistress,” Janetta said. Her daughter was wisely following Klara’s instructions and keeping the new chief heavily intoxicated and in a continual state of arousal until after the wedding ceremony.
“Get him up. I have matters of vital importance to speak of with him,” the old woman sputtered.
Klara pushed her daughter aside and stepped forward. “Helika, I would be happy to assist and relieve you of your burdens while you take the time to properly mourn your husband. I am well versed in the complexities of managing a powerful house. Tronscar is much larger, with a hundred servants to oversee—”
“Get. Me. My. Son!” the old crow squawked, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head.
Janetta lowered her eyes, nodding submissively. “Forgive me if I have offended you, mistress. I will return with your son in a moment.”
Klara saw her daughter’s gaze catch on the elk horn tankard that had been left out on the table and immediately read her violent thoughts.
She shook her head and reached out to still Janetta’s hand, but she was too late.
Horn in hand, Janetta spun around and struck the old woman down with a single blow to the back of her head. Helika’s head slammed against the edge of the table as she fell, splitting her forehead open.
Klara stood over the widow as blood soaked into the rushes on the floor.
“Two pieces of deadwood cleansed from this house in a single week,” her daughter said, panting heavily, smiling with pride.
Klara slapped her face. “Focus, girl. Clean up this mess before Valto’s men turn on us.”
Her daughter shrugged. “I’ll just blame it on the fancy whore. It will make them want to fight against the Norrlanders all the more.”
“Stupid cow! How many times do I need to explain? We can’t take on the Norrland fleet, nor do we want to deplete our forces. We want them to go after the Slav hounds. Open warfare with Tronscar would last minutes. We need Magnus in battle with someone else in order to give Dag the opportunity to take him out.”
Her daughter slouched her shoulders. “I doubt the jarl will even come after the shrew and her stupid brat.”
“Just clean up your mess.”
***
Lida scanned the great hall, shuffling through the shadows, headed for the side exit and, with luck, their escape. The hall was quieter than normal—not one servant was making preparations for the guests that were arriving for the chief’s funeral.
As she edged around the fireplace chimney, Lida’s heart plummeted. Janetta was sitting, silent, tall, and motionless, in Helika’s chair, her gray eyes locked on Lida.
“Pleasant day for a stroll, Lida?” Janetta stood. Lida’s eyes shifted around the empty hall and came to a stop at the long, bloody trail leading from the center of the floor to a far corner.
Lida’s legs were burning with the instinct to run. She has to get her child out of this house of death. They would run into the woods, hide in the trees, swim back to Sweden if they must.
“My thanks for coming so promptly. You were always a most thoughtful mistress, Lida.” Janetta’s smile broadened, and she turned her attention to Katia. “Come, your uncle awaits.” Janetta took a step closer, and Lida bared her teeth at the same time as Lika.
“Janetta, take one more step, and I shall kill you.” Lida tightened her grip around her conceale
d dagger. She no longer questioned what needed to be done for survival.
“Njord, Rune!” Janetta flicked her wrist. Two large guards advanced rapidly out of the shadows. Lida pressed Katia into her back.
“Take this whore away and have your way. She murdered Mistress Helika. Lock her in one of the outbuildings.” In a blink of an eye, Janetta snatched a fistful of Katia’s hair. Lika barked, snapping at Janetta’s leg.
“No! No!” Lida screamed, struggling against the guards who had seized hold of her arms, jerking and kicking with every once of strength she had.
Katia stepped backwards, holding Lika’s furry neck. Her daughter whispered to the dog, pulled a stick out from under her skirt, and threw it toward the exit. The dog ran to retrieve it, leaving her daughter unprotected.
“No, Katia! Call her to you! Lika!”
As Janetta stalked toward her vulnerable daughter, a guard’s hand crashed over Lida’s mouth, silencing her screams while dragging her from the hall.
Chapter 29
The guards hauled Lida down the lawns to a fishermen’s storage hut at the water’s edge. Her white cloak dragged in the mud. They tossed her in and chained the door.
Lida screamed, “The fires of Norrland will consume you before hell has its turn! The jarl of Norrland is coming. He will carve you up and serve your bones to his dogs. And if my daughter is harmed, I will kill you all myself.”
The men whispered, arguing over what she had said. “Ask me my name, you moronic fools. Ask me who I am! Valto has stolen the daughter and wife of the powerful Swedish warlord Jarl Magnus Knutson. He will come for me and I will direct him as to whom to slay and whom to spare. Who do you fear more, a false chief or the jarl of the Iron Kingdom?” Lida felt a flicker of hope as the men continued to argue. They appeared to have begun to fear that her rantings were true.
“Our mistress is from Norrland,” the younger guard said. “She says you were nothing more than his whore. That he’s finished with you, so he sent you away.”