Never again. Though he missed his sire, the man had pitted his sons against each other all their lives. The only excuse Roald could think of was because his father feared what would happen if his children united and tried to overthrow him. A sad reality of some of the most influential families in the north. But neither Roald or Konal possessed such dark ambition. His sire’s paranoia had cost him a close relationship with his eldest son.
He gazed back at Eva, her mare keeping pace with Troel’s mount a few feet behind. She represented his chance at a new beginning. Peace with the Sami. He rubbed his chin, imagining the financial benefits of such an alliance. Master craftsmen and the owners of an endless supply of meat, Roald would offer her people fair value for their goods and protection against their enemies.
Some jarls purposely targeted the Sami—cheating them out of money and even enslaving them.
No longer, not while he held the seat of power for his family.
As Roald focused on the path ahead again, entering his pasture land, he growled in rage as he surveyed the slaughter of his largest herd of cattle. Dozens of bodies littered the ground. He circled the bodies, then jumped from the saddle and rushed to the closest beast. Cut from neck-to-navel, the ground was covered in fresh blood.
Troel joined him. “By Odin,” the captain said, looking about. “How did this happen?”
Roald raised his head and sniffed the air. “The scent of death is choking me. And I fear it stretches beyond the fields.” He rose to his feet. “Ride ahead, Troel. Find out where Lamont and Keif have gone.”
Patrols were tasked with checking on his herds multiple times a day.
Then Eva cried out.
Standing across the clearing and staring at the ground, Roald thought she had found another beast. But as he closed the distance between them, he realized it was the body of his guard, Lamont. He too was cut neck-to-navel. Roald roared. Twas one thing to slaughter animals, but another to murder a man.
“There are no tracks, no signs of a bear or wolf.” Eva looked up at him, her eyes watery. “This is the evil work of men, Roald. I do not understand.”
“No one has ever attacked my home.” Not in the ten generations his ancestors had lived upon this land. He would hunt the offenders down and slowly torture and kill them for all to see. Hatred swelled in his chest, worried for the safety of his family. “Troel!”
The captain rode over.
“Go with all earnestness. Tell Konal to prepare my guards. I will bring Lamont’s body to his parents and then join you.”
“Aye, milord.” The captain immediately departed.
“I cannot leave his body for the ravens to pick clean. He’s served me faithfully.” Roald unclasped the gold and silver brooch holding his cloak in place and handed it to Eva. Then he carefully wrapped Lamont’s body in his cloak. “Bring your horse, Eva.”
“Aye.”
She held the horse in place while he tied Lamont’s body to the saddle.
“Who would do such a thing, Roald? Why?”
“There are men throughout the Trondelag who covet what my family has built. But none would waste the flesh of such valuable creatures. They’d harvest the meat, or add them to their own herds, or sell the beasts for a profit. The meat is wasted now, tainted by the air. I will send some men to burn the bodies.”
“I am sorry.” She rubbed his back. “For the loss of your servant and animals.”
“This is not the way I wanted to welcome you home.”
“No,” she said softly. “But as your future wife, I will stand by you no matter the cause.”
He glanced down at her, grateful for her presence. “Thank you, sweet Eva. Let us return to the steading in haste, I cannot guarantee the attackers won’t come back. And I want you safe.”
He helped her onto his horse, then mounted behind her. “Your mare is well-trained. She will follow us.”
Roald’s lands housed dozens of families in three villages. He headed for the one located just east of his longhouse. Half an hour later, he stopped in front of a sod-roofed cottage with a small garden in the front.
“Stay here,” he advised Eva as he slid down. “I prefer to speak to the boy’s parents alone.”
Roald secured Eva’s mare first, tying her to a nearby post, then with great sorrow in his heart, knocked on the door. It opened and an older woman smiled broadly at him.
“Jarl Roald.” She curtsied. “Tis an honor to receive you.” She stepped aside. “Please, come inside.”
He sat down at the table, unwilling to put off the devastating news. “Word has not reached you yet,” he started. “My largest herd of cattle was slaughtered today in the north pasture.”
“Shall I grab my sword, sir?” Lamont’s father stood.
“No. But I thank you for your willingness to fight, Carr. I bring other news—the kind no master wishes to deliver.” He looked to Lamont’s mother then. “Your son was on patrol today…”
She screamed before he finished his thought—collapsing to the ground.
Struck by her anguish, Roald approached and knelt beside her. “He died fighting—defending my lands. Lord Odin will welcome him at his feast table. There he will be reunited with my father. Fear not, woman, I will avenge your son.” He gently lifted her by the shoulders. “Nothing but blood will satisfy me.”
Carr came up behind his inconsolable wife. “Leave Uma to me, sir. Go with Odin and Thor, find these murderers. All I ask is the right to look my son’s killer in the face after you’ve found him.”
Roald sucked in a breath, his hands itching to hold his sword. “I will do better than that. I will give you the honor of delivering the death blow.”
“Aye.” Carr bowed.
“You must carry his body inside now and prepare him for burial,” Roald said. “You will find him on the horse tied to the post near your garden. Keep the beast as my pledge for justice.”
Roald exited the cottage and found Eva still atop his horse with tears in her eyes.
“I heard his mother cry out,” she sniffed.
“In time she will recover,” he said, claiming his spot in the saddle once again. “Until then, I will remember her only child.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
A dozen men met Roald in the courtyard as he arrived, including Konal and Troel.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Konal said. “There’s more trouble in the west village.”
“What is it?” He set Eva on her feet and waited for the answer.
“Reports of some of the sheep missing and a field set on fire,” his brother said.
“Curse the bastards doing this.” Roald shook a fist at the heavens. “Where are the rest of the men?”
“I’ve sent two groups out,” Troel answered. “Twenty to the north pasture to search for the offenders. Forty to the village. I expected us to depart as soon as you arrived.”
“Good.” Roald wrapped an arm about Eva’s waist. “I leave Eva in your care, Konal.”
His brother looked surprised. “You want me to stay here?”
“Both of us cannot risk our lives. If I am killed, you must assume the seat of power as jarl. Eva has agreed to marry me. Treat her as the lady of this steading.”
Konal bowed. “I prefer to fight beside you, Brother. But I will do as you command.”
Appreciative of his brother’s obedience, he grasped his forearm. “Be vigilant. The danger is close I think.” Then he turned to Eva and kissed her. “Pray for victory, sweet Eva. Upon my return, I expect you to take vows.”
“So soon?”
“I will not wait another minute.”
She gave him a sad smile. “Yes, milord. Come back to me standing upright like the great warrior you are now.”
He lifted both of her hands to his lips and kissed each one tenderly. “Aye.”
Without hesitation, he mounted a fresh horse a thrall brought to him, and then gestured for his men to follow. The east village was over ten miles away. If they rode hard, they’d reach i
t within the hour.
*
Eva didn’t mind the dust the horses kicked up as Roald and his guards rode away. She wanted to keep him in sight as long as she could, just in case he didn’t return alive. Twas the risk she took loving a jarl—a man responsible for the lives of so many. And after what she saw in the pasture and at poor Lamont’s village, she wouldn’t deny her betrothed the right for revenge.
“Come, Eva,” Konal said, gripping her arm. “You should be with the other women. This is no place for our future lady.”
She gazed at him with genuine interest. “I am sorry we did not have a chance to speak sooner.”
“As am I.”
“Your wife is strong-willed, a true fighter.”
“I owe you much for saving her.”
“I didn’t save her, milord. I am a servant to my gods and ancestors. They deserve the credit.”
He nodded. “Then I praise your gods and people for their mercy.”
“What about us?”
“Didn’t my brother explain how I felt?”
“Yes. But I prefer to hear your words.”
“I understand,” Konal said. “Just as Roald’s anger got the best of him, I, too, allowed my emotions to blind me. If anyone should have been sympathetic to your presence here, I should have been that man. I apologize for insulting you, Lady Eva. It will not happen again.”
“I accept your apology, sir. We are to be family soon. And I would enjoy calling you brother.”
“Silvia wishes to see you. Come inside.”
He escorted her through the great hall and down the corridor that led to the women’s quarters. He knocked on a door and it opened.
“Jarl Konal,” a maid said.
“I give Lady Eva into your keeping. She is now betrothed to my brother, treat her accordingly.”
“Aye, milord.”
“I must go.” He turned to leave.
“Wait.” Eva touched his arm. “Where are you going?”
“To join the fight.”
“But Roald insisted you stay here with me.”
“I appreciate your concern. But there is something you should understand about my brother and me. We will always disagree on most things. But I’d never sit about while he fights to defend the lands of my father. There are fifty guards stationed around this longhouse. If anyone tries to breach its walls, rest assured, they will meet a violent end.”
Eva admired his bravery. “Go with the gods.”
Konal left her alone in the passageway.
The door to the women’s solar opened wider and Runa stood in the entryway. “You must join us,” she encouraged. “There is too much wine to drink, an abundance of sweet breads, and noisy children who require the entertainment of a woman graced with a songbird’s voice.”
Eva warmed to her kindness and crossed the threshold, noting the large size of the space and the feminine decorations. Colorful tapestries depicting the beauty of the countryside—the ancient trees and rivers, the mountains and icy fjords. Cushioned chairs and high-backed benches were occupied by some women Eva had never met before. Silvia lounged on a long couch, surrounded by her servants.
“Dearest, Eva.” She stretched her hands out. “Join me over here.”
Eva accepted the invitation and claimed the empty space at the end of the couch. “You are well?”
“I am,” she said. “Overly tired sometimes, but I expect my strength to return little-by-little.”
“I am still unsure of the exact illness that infected you, Silvia. But I have seen it before, a high fever followed by deep sleep.”
“I am alive and happy—able to love my husband and protect our unborn child.” She cupped her belly. “For that marvel, I am ever indebted to you.”
“You owe me nothing. As for the babe, congratulations. There is no better surprise.”
“I couldn’t disagree more about not owing you,” Runa entered the conversation. “You have much to offer here. And now that you are marrying my brother, maybe you can help convince him to let me serve as a temple maiden. And to lift the fate-binding to Konal he so unfairly cursed me with.”
“Please,” Silvia said with a wave of her hand. “Tis a serious point of contention for my husband and Roald. Let peace settle in before you mention it again, Runa.”
“I’ve nothing but time,” Runa said. “But patience isn’t one of my best traits.”
“No?” Eva asked. “Wouldn’t a temple maiden need it to represent the gods properly?”
“Perhaps,” Runa said. “But I wish to be more than a temple servant.”
“A shield maiden?” Silvia sounded shocked.
“A holy warrior for Odin.”
Eva decided to keep her opinion to herself. As Roald’s wife, she’d have the responsibility and right to speak to Runa about her future. But not yet. “Will you introduce me to the children?”
She watched as a couple of the thralls played with the children on the floor, tossing a leather ball across the circle. There were seven in total, four boys and three girls.
“Indunn and Sissel belong to my cousin, Sigrid.” Runa pointed at her kinswoman.
“They are lovely girls,” Eva addressed their mother.
“Gamble, the oldest boy here, and his sister Yule, belong to Borgny…” Runa finished naming all the children and their respective mothers.
“I am pleased to meet all of you,” Eva said with a smile. “While your fathers are away, would you like to learn a special skill?”
“Aye,” they said in unison.
Eva clapped her hands, encouraged by their enthusiasm. “Runa, do you have ribbons?”
“I can get some.”
“Please do.”
A few minutes later, a servant returned with strips of colorful cloth.
Eva sat on the floor with the young ones and selected several strands. “I will show you how to braid these ribbons in a special way to decorate your clothes.”
Keeping her hands occupied would help time pass more quickly. For sitting about doing nothing would only make her worry more about her future husband. After she finished the first sample, Runa offered her a glass of wine.
“There is no need,” she said.
“Drink it. I recognize the fear in your eyes, Eva. And if you doubt my feelings for my eldest brother, don’t. I, too, pray for his safe return.”
Eva accepted the cup and drank it down. I am not your servant, great Odin, but I beg you to protect one of your most dedicated warriors. Bring Roald home to all of us… She’d never prayed to another god before, but under the circumstances, she’s even ask the Stallos, troll-like giants who ate people, to guide Roald’s hands.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Roald brought his sword down with such brutal force, he had to step on the dead man’s body and yank the blade out with all his strength. He’d nearly dismembered the bastard. He turned around then, searching the fray for his next victim. No mercy would be shown and no prisoners would be taken. Several of the cottages had been burned in the west village, two women and children killed, and many sheep slaughtered.
Troel fought next to him, killing his opponent efficiently, then wiped his axe blade clean on his enemy’s tunic. “I’ve been unable to identify these attackers,” the captain said, breathing heavily. “Their armor is well crafted, their weapons as good as our own.”
“I’ve not spotted any banners or flags. Perhaps we should leave a couple alive for interrogation. I will have answers, Troel, no matter the cost.”
As he finished speaking, three fighters challenged Roald and his captain. Weapons thundered against shields, the sound of metal scraping against metal ignited the jarl’s fury. He not only fought for his lands and people, but he also defended Eva’s honor, and Lamont’s memory. His first foe fell dead to the ground. The second man had the glint of fear in his eyes, but came at Roald with a wild swing of his weapon.
Roald outmaneuvered him, blocking the weak blow with a deft strike of his own. His blade bit into t
he man’s shoulder, immediately drawing blood.
“Reveal your master’s name and I will spare your life,” Roald roared over the noise. It would be the only offer the bastard got.
His opponent shook his head. “We will fight to the death.”
“I will speed your journey to Hades.” Roald rushed him, knocking his rival down. He cut the man’s scream off with a knife, slitting his throat ear-to-ear. He watched with sick fascination as the bastard gurgled and bled out. “A gift for you, great Odin.”
When he turned around to check on Troel, he spotted a familiar face across the clearing. At least he thought he did—but he couldn’t be sure, light was scarce now.
Troel yelled out in pain. But just as Roald moved to aid him, another fighter cut the captain’s opponent down from behind. The jarl swiftly reached his friend, finding a bloodstain on his upper thigh.
“I must get you to safety.”
“No.” Troel tried to climb to his feet, but failed midway, falling to his knees.
“Let me help him, lord.”
Roald turned to the young warrior that had saved his captain’s life. “I do not know you.”
“I am Thorolf. Recently sworn into service by your captain.” He gazed at Troel with deep respect. “I will stay by his side.”
Roald clasped the man’s arm. “I won’t forget it,” Roald said, preoccupied with hunting down the man he was sure he saw.
He sprinted across the field, looking left, then right, but didn’t see anyone. The only logical way to escape the village was through the forest, so he plunged into the thick foliage, hungry for more blood. He searched the area, banging his sword against the trees, hoping to flush the man out. But nothing stirred.
He walked another mile or two, finally finding fresh boot tracks in the moist soil. “I remember your face well, Markkos. Did you think you could kill innocent women and children, slaughter my herds, and burn cottages without paying for it with your life?”
Desire's Fury (Viking's Fury Book 2) Page 10