Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 03]

by The Tarnished Lady

  “’Tis not wise for a Norseman—even a half-Viking, such as myself—to provoke the envy of his Saxon neighbors.”

  Eadyth understood then, but that did not explain Eirik’s failure to tell her, his wife.

  “How did you think I was paying all the new soldiers I have brought to Ravenshire?” He tugged playfully on one of the curly strands of her hair while he spoke, wrapping it around his finger.

  Eadyth felt her face grow hot. “I had not considered that. No doubt, you were muddling my thoughts at the time.”

  “Yea, I am rather good at…muddling. Am I not?” He grinned at her and forced her closer by pulling on the lock of hair still wrapped around his finger. She tried to ignore the sweet heat he was stoking with his mere closeness.

  “Oh, you are outrageous! And Asa, your mistress—this is how you paid her, is it not?” Eadyth waved her hand at the room’s contents, and her throat tightened at the thought. Fool that she was, she had even expected Eirik to use some of her profits to pay off his mistress. Instead, he had, no doubt, laid vast riches at her feet. Mayhap he had not even ended his relationship with her.

  “Wipe that nasty thought from your head immediately,” Eirik snapped. “If you dare to accuse me of infidelity after wearing my cock nigh down to a nub, I swear I will pull out your tongue and nail it to your frowning forehead.”

  Eadyth inhaled sharply. “You are so vulgar.”

  “Yea, I am.” Then he grinned mischievously. “Would you like to lie down on one of these lengths of silk and get vulgar with me?”

  She shot him a look of disgust, but could not help the smile which crept over her lips. He looked so engaging, standing there like an overgrown boy, grinning happily. “Nay, I would not ruin good samite by rolling around on the ground with you.”

  “Ah, ever the sensible wife!” He gazed at her fondly, then added, his eyes twinkling, “Wouldst you consider good wool?”

  She laughed despite herself.

  He held out his arms to her and she stepped into his embrace. She pinched his belly, though, just to show she had not lost all her anger with him.

  Later, when they exited arm in arm from the secret tunnel which led to a cotter’s hut just outside the castle walls, Eadyth said, more serious now, “Eirik, I am fearful for John’s fate now that Edred is king, but I just wanted you to know…” Her voice broke with emotion.

  “What, dearling?” he asked, tilting her chin up with a forefinger.

  “I just wanted you to know that I am happier at this moment than I have ever been in all my life.”

  He tried to make light of her serious tone by teasing, “Yea, I am rather good at making you happy, am I not?”

  But she would not allow him to trivialize her sentiments. “I love you, Eirik. Nay, do not shift your eyes and look downward. I am not asking you to return my sentiments.” At least not yet. “Mayhap women are different. All I know is that I could not yield myself the way I have with you unless I gave my heart, as well.”

  “’Tis hard for me to talk of these things, Eadyth. Trust comes hard for me, and without it, I do not think I could love anyone. Give me time.”

  “I will,” she said, smiling up at him. “’Tis just that I fear hard times are coming, and I wanted you to know how I feel.” She looked about then, wanting to change the subject, and said, “Look at that green pasture over there. I have never seen it afore. Do you think…hmmm…I was wondering if we might purchase a few…just a few, mind you…goats?”

  “Goats?” he choked out.

  Then he laughed when he saw the teasing expression on her face. “You are beautiful when you smile, Eadyth. If you had smiled once or twice when you were pretending to be old and ugly, your charade would have been over in a trice.”

  “You think so, do you?”

  “I know so, dearling. Even with my damned eyes, I would not be able to miss the beauty of your smile.”

  “Oh, Eirik, do not speak so of your eyes. I love your eyes.” After all, it was those pale blue eyes that had drawn her to Ravenshire in the first instance.

  “You do? Ah, well, they are my weakness, but—”

  She put her fingertips to his lips. “There is nothing weak about you, my husband. I recognized your vision problem almost from the start, because my father experienced the same, and it never made him less a man.”

  “Well…,” he said, seeming to shrug off her words of confidence, but Eadyth could tell that he was pleased. His dim sight—his one weakness, or so he perceived it to be—was a sensitive point with her husband. And she had rankled his pride by playing on that foible with her foolish masquerade.

  She gazed at him adoringly, recognizing her good fortune in having gained this man for her husband.

  “What? Why are you looking at me so?”

  “How?”

  “Like your bloody dog, Prince.”

  Eadyth chuckled softly. What an apt description!

  “I do not suppose, Eadyth, that you would…oh, never mind…” He let his words trail off deliberately, arousing her curiosity. He stroked his upper lip, scrutinizing her the whole time. His eyes twinkled with mischief.

  Putting both hands on her hips, Eadyth tilted her head in question.

  “…wag your tail,” he finished with a chortle of laughter.

  “You have better parts to wag than I do,” she retorted, shoving him playfully in the chest. He fell backward, pulling her with him to the ground.

  Taking her face in both his hands, Eirik kissed her deeply. In truth, Eadyth could never seem to get enough of his lips and teeth and tongue. Why had she never known that kissing could be such a pleasure?

  “You are looking dreamy-eyed again, Eadyth,” he said, blowing softly on the wetness of her lips.

  “And no wonder! You turn a maid’s mind inside out with your kisses, and well you know it.”

  “Just yours, Eadyth. Just yours. Now, will you tell me why you were looking at me like Prince looks at a juicy bone?”

  “I just wondered how I could have grown to love you so quickly.”

  “No doubt it is my manly prowess,” he boasted immodestly.

  “I think I loved you long afore you ever touched me.”

  “Really?” His eyes sparkled with interest.

  She nodded. “Yea, ’twas when you acknowledged John as your son at our wedding feast, no doubt. And then when you gave me that tongue kiss in your bedchamber the same night, I suspected I would not be able to resist your charms for long.”

  “Yea, my charms are formidable.”

  She nipped at his shoulder and continued, “And then there was the time you were stung by my bees and did not beat me.”

  “I was tempted.”

  “But you did not.”

  There was a long moment of silence as their eyes locked, and Eadyth cried inwardly that Eirik did not tell her that he loved her, as well. She told herself it did not matter, but, of course, it did.

  “I am trying, Eadyth,” he said softly.

  “I know,” she whispered, trying to hide her pain, and leaned up into his gentle kiss.

  “Are you two at it again?” They looked up to see Tykir emerging from the tunnel entrance. “Hell, Eirik, every time I turn around, you are counting Eadyth’s teeth with your tongue.”

  “Thirty-two,” Eirik said without a blink of his eyes.

  “Huh?” Tykir said.

  “Eadyth has thirty-two teeth.”

  They all burst out laughing then.

  Tykir dropped down to the ground next to them once their merriment ended.

  “Where are the children?” Eadyth asked.

  “I tied them to posts in the great hall.”

  “How could you!” Eadyth exclaimed, horrified at his cruelty, and started to stand.

  “Do not get your dander up, sister. Sit back down. They think it is a game. I am the mighty Viking warrior and they are my captives. At least it gives me a moment to breathe.” He grimaced comically. “I promised that when I return I will be their captive.
Hell’s flames, I think I may go a-Viking when I leave Ravenshire just to get a rest.”

  They all turned more serious then as they discussed the plan to lure Steven into their trap.

  “I will leave with a large contingent of men on the morrow,” Eirik said. “If Earl Orm has not already done so, I will spread the word that I go to Gloucestershire to speak with the Witan.”

  “Surely Steven will watch you carefully,” Eadyth said worriedly.

  “Yea, but I will leave in full battle gear, including a helmet which covers my hair. When I get a few hides from Ravenshire, there is a wooded area where Sigurd will be waiting for me. Sigurd is much the same size as me. He and I will exchange garments. After the troops move on, I will backtrack to Ravenshire and enter through the secret tunnel.”

  Eadyth bit her bottom lip anxiously.

  “I know you are concerned about John. I am sending him under heavy guard, along with Larise and Emma, to Hawks’ Lair. They will leave tonight through the tunnel. I do not want them inside the keep, in the event something should go wrong with our plan.”

  Eadyth put a hand to her mouth apprehensively. “And Tykir?”

  “Will sail out tonight from Jorvik, along the Humber to the North Sea. Then he will travel back here by land. He will be the one to stay with the children at Hawks’ Lair. I do not think Emma will be manageable for long without one of us there.”

  “It all sounds so…sensible…but you know that Steven does not think as a normal man does. I fear his treachery.”

  “We will be careful, Eadyth. I protect what is mine.” He put an arm around her shoulders for emphasis.

  Eirik’s gesture warmed Eadyth, even more than his words. He did not love her…yet, Eadyth could see that. But she believed that he did care about her. That was something. A start.

  “One last thing, Eadyth. ’Tis possible we have a spy within the keep. So we must not discuss this plan with any of the servants, and I must not come abovestairs once I leave Ravenshire. We will prepare the rooms underground with bedding and food and drink for me and some of my men. Even the horses will have to be kept with us.”

  At her look of distaste, he added, “It should only be for one night or two. I am certain Steven will be lured to the prospect of you and John in a seemingly ill-protected keep.”

  Two days went by, and still there was no contact from Steven. Eadyth paced her bedchamber, and the kitchen, where Bertha complained, “Gawd! Yer wearing a groove in the floor, and yer makin’ the milk curdle in me custard with yer constant complainin’.”

  Eirik had warned Eadyth not to step outside the keep under any circumstances, and only Wilfrid and Jeremy, her trusted stoneworker from Hawks’ Lair, were aware of the plan. At the first sign of Steven’s, or any stranger’s, presence inside the keep, Eirik was to be contacted. To outward appearances, the keep must look understaffed and poorly guarded.

  “When Steven contacts you, you must be within range of Wilfrid or Jeremy so they may signal me and my men. You must obey my orders totally, do you hear me, Eadyth?” Eirik had told her over and over before he left.

  On the third day, Eadyth was so jittery and frustrated she decided she had to do something to keep busy. “We will work on my honey today,” she told Bertha and Girta.

  The cook muttered something about the mess she would make of her kitchen, but was silenced by a quick glare from Eadyth. Britta would be unable to help since she was still bedridden, though recovering slowly from her battering. Eadyth instructed Oslac, one of the beekeeping assistants she had brought from Hawks’ Lair, to gather as many honeycombs as were ready from her hives. Eirik had forbidden her to go even to the orchard where her hives were located, lest Steven be lurking about.

  When Oslac returned a short time later, pushing his beekeeping veils back off his face, he brought with him three dozen honeycombs and said there were at least that many more for him to fetch. “It has been way too long, mistress, since we have harvested the honey, though the bees have enjoyed the feast mightily.”

  Eadyth nodded, realizing that she had been busy with other things the past few days. She sent Oslac off for more of the honeycombs and made sure the fire was hot enough and all her utensils were set out on the table.

  Girta went to get more pottery containers from the scullery. Bertha wiped the sweat from her forehead with a forearm and grumbled, “Well, best we get this over with.”

  A short time later, Eadyth already had the three dozen honeycombs decapped, dripping nectar through the straining cloths near the fire, and Oslac had not yet returned. She fidgeted and glanced impatiently about the kitchen, wanting to complete her work.

  “Wash all the empty combs for me, Bertha,” she said and stepped to the doorway leading to the kitchen courtyard.

  Oslac was approaching, carrying a huge armful of the honeycombs in one of her beecatcher boxes—at least six dozen. There must have been many more than he had originally thought. He stopped near the well and laid his box down. At first, Eadyth was puzzled by his behavior, but then she saw him sit down on a boulder and remove his shoe, then shake out several loose stones.

  Smiling, she stepped out into the courtyard, lifting her face to the warmth of the midday sun. She missed being outdoors, working with her bees, being free to ride her horse through the cotters’ fields, or go into the markets of Jorvik. She ambled closer to Oslac and remarked, “’Twould seem our bees have been industrious. We will have a great supply of wax for my candles this year, do you not think?”

  He nodded as he rubbed the bottom of his bruised foot, then replaced his shoe and stood.

  An odd tingling prickled Eadyth’s scalp, then raised the fine hair on the back of her neck. It was Oslac’s height. She had not realized he was so tall, or that—

  Before she had a chance to assimilate the warning signals, Oslac threw off his beekeeping veils and grabbed her arm in a pincerlike grip. She started to scream, but he pulled her back against his body, one arm wrapped across her chest like an iron bar, the other clamped over her mouth.

  It was Steven of Gravely.

  “You bloody bitch! Where have you hidden John? Oslac says he has not seen him in the keep for days.”

  Eadyth twisted her head to peer at Steven’s face over her shoulder. He was dragging her toward some bushes where they would be hidden from view.

  Her blood ran cold at the tremendous change in his appearance since they had last met. Although still a handsome man, he had lost much weight and his cheeks were sunken. Illness cast a grayish pallor over his once healthy skin. His bloodshot eyes raked her feverishly, darting about the kitchen courtyard searchingly. There was madness, too, in his wild eyes, and Eadyth suspected that the disease of his male parts had moved to his brain.

  “I asked you a question, bitch,” he said and tore a length of fabric off her sleeve, using it to tie a gag around her mouth. He did the same with her other sleeve and bound her hands behind her back and her ankles together. Then he shoved her to her knees and slapped her mightily across the face. “I am going to remove your gag for a moment, and if you dare to cry out, I swear I will slit your bloody throat.” He pulled a dagger from his belt and held it to her neck while he untied her gag with the other hand.

  “Where is John?” he asked once again.

  Apparently he already knew that John was not within the keep, thanks to Oslac’s treachery. Oslac must be the spy in their midst.

  “In Jorvik,” she lied.

  “You cannot hide my son from me, you know. Already Edred has promised him to me in return for my past loyalties. ’Tis only a matter of time.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  She saw her mistake when Steven’s eyes flashed angrily and he backhanded her across the other cheek. She reeled under the impact and almost fell over, but Steven grabbed her painfully by the neck and held her upright.

  “My grandsire is dying of the wasting disease in Frankland as we speak, Eadyth. He has an aversion to me, for some unfathomable reason, but has agreed to p
ass his estates on to my heir. If I do not bring my son to him afore his death, all his lands will go to the church. I cannot allow that.”

  “Go to your own wife, Steven. Breed sons on her,” Eadyth said, unsure if Eirik’s tale of Steven’s sterility were true.

  At first he appeared about to strike her again, but then lowered his hand. “Did you not know my wife died two sennights ago?” he asked, slitting his red-rimmed eyes slyly. “’Twas a fearsome stomach ailment…came on Eneda of a sudden…the poor soul.” He chortled most unsympathetically and pulled a small vial from his robe, holding it in her face. “She did not suffer much in the end, thanks to this sleeping draught I gave her.”

  Eadyth felt a suffocating, squeezing sensation in her chest, and a ripple of fear passed over her body. She knew without being told that the vial held poison which he had administered to his wife. But why?

  He soon answered her question.

  “’Tis the exact same potion you will be giving to your husband.”

  Eadyth inhaled sharply. The man had truly lost his senses. “Why would I do that?”

  “Now that I am free to marry, you must be the same.”

  Stark fear, black and deadly as a tidal wave, washed over her, and Eadyth could barely control her tremors. “But you said the Witan will grant you custody. Why would you need me as wife?”

  He sneered at her question but answered anyway. “There are a few on the Witan who will not heed the new king’s orders. They believe your husband’s claims of paternity…or seek his good favors. In the end, the Witan will grant me custody, you can be sure of that, but time is of the essence. I cannot wait. Quite simply, Eirik must die, and you will perform the deed.”

  He jerked her to her feet then. “But first, we go to Jorvik to gather my son.”

  “I think not,” a steely voice said behind them.

  Eadyth looked back to see Eirik emerging from the kitchen, sword raised, and a dozen men coming behind him. Others came from the bailey and even more from beyond the orchard.

  Steven tightened his hold on her bound body and held the dagger harder against her throat, drawing blood. Eadyth saw Eirik’s eyes rivet angrily on her neck and feared he would act precipitously.