Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 03]

by The Tarnished Lady

  When Steven felt she had seen enough, he turned her with a shove toward another corridor, then led her into a small chamber. Eadyth saw no servants about. The manor appeared to be abandoned. When they were inside, Steven put a torch to several hanging soapstone candles. He motioned for her to sit. Then he removed her gag, but did not release her wrists, which were still tied behind her back. He dropped into a chair opposite her and glared at her malevolently.

  Steven’s appearance had deteriorated even more the past few sennights since he had escaped from Ravenshire. Once godly handsome, his leanly muscled body had wasted away to a sickly gauntness. A gray pallor had erased the bronze that had colored his healthy skin. Even his hair, which had been thick and glossy like black silk, hung lankly about his face.

  “You are unwell,” she remarked without thinking.

  “Yea, but do not think I will be leaving this life anytime in the near future. I have many years ahead of me, bitch, and once I secure my inheritance, through our son, I will make for the Holy Lands. There is a Saracen doctor who promises a cure for my…ailment.”

  Eadyth shrugged. “Steven, release Godric. The boy has done you no harm.”

  “Nay, I have plans for the child.” He cackled evilly, then broke into a fit of coughing, finally spitting bloody phlegm into a linen cloth.

  “What kind of plans?” she asked, trying hard to hide her fear from Steven, sensing he would gain pleasure from her pain.

  He leaned forward, and Eadyth almost reeled from the foul breath that swept her way.

  “I told you, Eadyth, to kill your husband and make way for our marriage. Instead, you set your bastard spouse on me. Tsk, tsk! I cannot abide such disobedience of my orders. Really, Eadyth, what shall I do to punish you for your transgressions?” He tapped a forefinger to the side of his head, as if suddenly enlightened. “Ah, the boy!”

  “Nay, you cannot kill Godric to get back at me,” she cried, jumping to her feet.

  Steven leaned forward and shoved her back into her chair. “I said naught of killing,” he said calmly, his cold blue eyes knifing her contemptuously. “Leastways, not yet.”

  Eadyth shifted uneasily in her chair under Steven’s mirthless smile. Finally, he said in a deadly cold voice, “This is how it will be, my future wife. I will give you another vial of the poison, like the one you failed to use afore. You will give it to your husband. This particular poison leaves no trace, and you will be pleased to know that the passing is painless, almost like a deep sleep. Then, when a suitable time passes…say, four sennights, we will be wed. And live happily ever after.” He grinned with evil satisfaction.

  “Whyever would I do that?”

  “Because, you troublesome bitch, you have no choice. If you dare to tell anyone of our plans, especially your husband, the boy will suffer unthinkable pain, tortures you could never imagine.”

  She gasped and shook her head.

  “If Eirik is not dead within three days, I intend to deliver a special package to you at Ravenshire. You do like surprises, like most women, do you not?” he asked. He waited several long moments before informing her, “His head will be delivered to your door.”

  Tears were streaming down Eadyth’s face as she stared at Steven in horror. She had never believed in demonic possession; she did now.

  Steven stood and pointed to a small pallet in the corner. “You may sleep here tonight, or for as many nights as it takes to make up your mind. In the end, I am sure you will agree there is no other way.”

  He locked the door after himself, but she could hear his evil laugh as he walked away.

  For the rest of that day and then the sleepless night, Eadyth considered all the alternatives, and tossed most away as unworkable.

  She wanted desperately to tell Eirik, but decided she could not. How could she risk Godric’s life, not knowing if Steven still had a spy in Ravenshire? Eirik’s rage would be evident to all in the keep.

  But, of course, she would not kill Eirik. She would kill no man, but certainly not the husband she had grown to love. However, Steven did not know that. As far as he could see, theirs was a marriage of convenience, arranged to suit her need for husbandly protection and Eirik’s need for lands and wealth.

  She thought about going away herself, perhaps even seeking the asylum of the Church. But that would mean leaving John with Eirik. Even that painful separation she could bear if it would ensure John’s safety. But it would not. Steven would merely intensify his efforts to kill Eirik to reach his son.

  If she could kill Steven herself, she would. But not once in her contacts with him could she think of any time he had left himself open to attack. If Eirik had been unsuccessful thus far in killing the demon, how could she hope to succeed?

  Back and forth, Eadyth debated the dilemma in her head. Over and over, she recalled her words to Eirik that she would never, ever deliver herself and her sons into Steven’s filthy hands. She had sworn she would die first.

  In the end, that was precisely what Eadyth decided that she and John would do—die.

  The next morning when Steven returned to unlock her chamber, Eadyth had her emotions under control. She had become quite the actress while fooling Eirik over her appearance. She drew on that expertise now.

  “I agree,” she told Steven woodenly.

  “I knew you would,” he said with a self-satisfied smirk. He drew the vial of poison from his tunic and handed it to her. Eadyth noticed that he had bathed and shaved. He almost looked like his old self. And Eadyth knew that if he chose to wield his old charm he could probably still lure some trusting women into his seductive traps. Or fool the nobles of Edred’s Witan.

  “’Tis best if you return to Ravenshire as soon as possible,” he advised. “Eirik has not yet returned with John, my informants tell me. I suggest you do not tell him you have been here with me. Say you were lost in the forest, or some such thing. You will think of something. Women are good at lying.”

  And men, too. You deceitful wretch. “You must release Godric to come back with me.”

  He shook his head emphatically. “He will stay ’til I have proof of Eirik’s death.”

  Eadyth’s heart sank with dismay. “But I cannot leave the poor child here to be tortured.”

  “He has not been tortured, nor will he be, unless you fail in your mission.”

  “Why should I believe you?” she cried out impulsively.

  A muscle twitched near Steven’s thinned lips, but he did not strike her, as Eadyth would have expected. “I was tor…treated badly when I was of the same age,” Steven revealed, to her surprise. “You may find this hard to believe, but I have no taste for inflicting the same…pain on another child. Yea, I know Eirik has told you how I beat him as a child, but I knew even then that I got no joy from torturing children. An adult…now that is a different matter.”

  Eadyth saw a searing pain in Steven’s bloodshot eyes as he momentarily forgot himself and stared off in space, remembering some events in his far distant past. What could have happened to him as a child to have twisted his mind so?

  “You have an odd sense of morality, Steven. You do horrid, horrid things to people. And yet you claim you would not harm Godric just because—”

  He shook his head sharply, as if to clear his distasteful past, and snapped, “Enough! I do not need to explain myself to you. Come. A farmer’s cart awaits below. You travel back to Ravenshire in high style, my lady.”

  All of Eadyth’s bindings were put back on, including the blindfold and gag, and she was forced into what must be the bed of a wagon, then covered with straw. Before they left, Steven told her, “Three days, Eadyth. Or you will receive my ‘gift’ to you.”

  Several hides away from Ravenshire, the farmer stopped his wagon and released her. He pointed her toward the road, refusing stonily to answer her questions, then turned and went in the opposite direction. Eadyth began the long walk home and entered the keep through the hidden tunnel. She barred it from the inside to preclude any further unannounced v
isits from Steven.

  Luckily, Eirik and John had not yet returned from Wessex. She had time to compose herself and make her plans. And, although skeptical, a frantic Wilfrid and the Ravenshire staff accepted her explanation that she had become lost when searching in the forest for Godric.

  That evening, Eadyth sought out Britta to aid her in her plan. The maid, having suffered personally at Steven’s hands, would understand Eadyth’s need to take such drastic action. Leastways, she hoped Britta would understand.

  “Are you daft?” Britta exclaimed after hearing Eadyth’s story. “You want me to help you plan for your death, and John’s?”

  “Not our real deaths, just our false deaths. You, more than any other, know he means what he says. He will behead Godric if I do not do as he orders.”

  “And he orders that you kill the Lord of Ravenshire?”

  “Yea, and then wed with him.”

  Britta shivered with distaste at the prospect. “But there must be another way. If you discuss it with the master—”

  “Nay, I cannot. Steven would know and he would enact his revenge on me by hurting Godric. Furthermore, Eirik would go after Steven with even more furor, and I fear for his life, as well.” Her last words were spoken in a bare whisper, and tears welled in her eyes.

  “You love the Lord of Ravenshire, then?” Britta asked, laying a hand compassionately over Eadyth’s.

  Eadyth nodded, unable to speak.

  “It would break the master’s heart to learn of your death. He loves you so.”

  “Do you think so?” Eadyth asked hopefully.

  “Anyone with eyes can see that he cares. How can you hurt him so, if you love him?”

  “How can I not do this, if I love him? ’Tis best for everyone. ’Tis the only way.” She swallowed the bitter taste of despair in her throat and took both of Britta’s hands in hers. “I know that you love Wilfrid and that he wants to wed with you. Nay, do not protest. I know your concerns about your differing backgrounds…we will discuss that later. But consider if it were you in this position and you feared for Wilfrid’s life, what would you do?”

  “Oh, mistress!” she said softly, understanding completely that Eadyth had no choice. “How long would you have to stay in hiding?”

  Eadyth shrugged. “’Til Steven is finally dead.”

  “But that could be years and years.”

  She nodded dismally.

  “And what if Eirik should decide to remarry?”

  Eadyth gasped. She had not thought of that possibility. She pictured the years ahead…alone, bereft and desolate. She girded herself to be strong. “Then I would have to stay ‘dead’ forever, although John could return when he reaches his majority to take over Hawks’ Lair.”

  “And how would he explain away his ‘death,’ and yours, then, when he returns from the dead?”

  “Oh, I do not know. All these questions! I will worry about that when the time comes. Will you help me, Britta? You are my only hope.”

  Britta agreed reluctantly.

  “It must be done soon. Mayhap on the morrow. The next day, at the latest. Steven only gave me three days.”

  “And what about Godric?”

  “I think Steven will release him when he learns that John and I have died. Something he said makes me think he will not torture the boy needlessly. I believe Steven was abused badly as a child.”

  Britta eyed her skeptically. “And how will you ‘die’? With the poison he gave you.”

  “Nay, there can be no ‘dead’ bodies for Eirik to examine. I had thought of fire, but that would be too devastating for Emma to go through again. Losing me and John will be hard enough on her and Larise.”

  “Drowning?”

  “I had considered that, but there are no large bodies of water nearby, ones with currents strong enough to carry away evidence. And Eirik would search for our bodies.”

  “Then what?” Britta gaped at her in horror.

  “I have heard there have been problems with marauding wolf packs in the hills. Do you think we could pretend to have been the victims of the wild beasts?”

  “There would have to be evidence, would there not?”

  “Yea, but if there were pieces of our bloody garments, and some bones—”

  “Bones! What kind of bones?” Britta was backing away from Eadyth as if she feared she had lost her sanity. Mayhap she had.

  “Well, I was thinking that perchance you could—”

  “Me? What? What are you planning? Oh, Lord,” she said as realization seemed to hit her like a lightning bolt, “you want me to rob some graves, do you not?”

  Eadyth smiled mirthlessly. “Nay, even I would not go that far. I think if we used some animal bones from the kitchen butcherings, and mangled them a bit, Eirik might not question too closely.” She looked hopefully to Britta. “What do you think?”

  “I think you are daft.”

  They had no more time to discuss the plan then because Girta knocked on the chamber door, announcing happily, “Riders approach carrying the Ravenshire colors. It must be Eirik and young John returning from Glastonbury. Hurry.”

  Eadyth pulled Britta into a hug, thanking her in a heartfelt whisper. “I will never forget what you are doing for me.”

  “Methinks I will ne’er forget it, either,” Britta grumbled as she went off to gather bones.

  Eadyth had just got to the bailey when Eirik and his retainers rode in. John jumped from his horse and rushed into her arms, talking excitedly.

  While she hugged and kissed him over and over, he exclaimed, “You should have seen the funeral, Mother. There were ever so many people, and all of ’em cryin’ for the king. And there were two hundred white horses with gold bridles. And Prince Edwy and Prince Edgar had their own ponies. And I learned to play dice…”

  Eadyth shot a glare at Eirik, who was dismounting. “Dice?”

  But John just rushed on, pushing his way with some embarrassment out of her continued embrace, “…and King Edred and some priest named Dunstan talked to me about Father, and they asked me about some man, Steven, I think…leastways, the king and this…”

  John rambled on and finally Eadyth shooed him up the castle steps where Larise and Emma were waiting. Eadyth turned then and walked into her husband’s arms, holding on to him tightly. She could not stop the tears which streamed down her face. Every moment that she had left with Eirik would be precious.

  Eirik looked down at Eadyth with surprise. She had never been so demonstrative in public before. Well, she had been worried about her son’s fate, and he and John had been delayed overlong with Dunstan’s maneuverings. Relief, no doubt, accounted for her squeezing the very breath from his lungs and the profuse tears which wet the front of his tunic.

  More than that, he hoped her embrace meant that she had missed him. As much as he had missed her.

  I love her, Eirik thought with wonder. There was no question in his mind now. It had taken only one day away from her for Eirik to come to that realization, but he had not wanted to tell her in his letters. He wanted to see her face the first time he told her of his love.

  I love her.

  Eirik gazed down at his sobbing wife and smiled. It did not matter if she was shrewish on occasion—more than on occasion, actually, he thought with a rueful smile. And he could put up with her domineering ways—up to a point. Another rueful smile twitched at his lips. As long as she continued to match him in the bed sport…and tell him she loved him…and provide a warm family for him and their children…and….

  Eirik’s thoughts trailed off as he realized, I just love her. There is no logical reason. She has snared me good and well. The sharp-tongued, waspish witch!

  “Shush, dearling,” Eirik said, kissing the top of her hair and pulling her to his side with an arm draped over her shoulder.

  Wilfrid stepped forward. “There is much I have to report. That starveling Godric is—”

  Eirik waved him aside. “Later. I would…comfort my wife first.”

&nb
sp; “But—”

  Eirik ignored Wilfrid and the other servants. Larise and Emma were on the other side of the hall, held back by Girta. Later…later he would greet his children good and proper. For now, he wanted…nay, needed to be alone with his wife.

  No sooner had the bedchamber door closed behind them than Eirik pressed Eadyth back against the door with his arms braced over her head. Her eyes were wild and darting about, refusing to meet his. And she whimpered, as if in pain.

  “Eadyth, dearling,” he said huskily, holding her chin in place, forcing her to look up at him, “have you missed me as much as I have missed you?”

  “Desperately. I have longed for you desperately,” she admitted without her usual inhibitions.

  Eirik’s heart expanded in his chest almost to bursting, and his staff began to harden against her. He pressed himself against her belly to show her how desperately he “longed” for her, as well.

  “No doubt there were many beautiful women at Edred’s court,” she said, tracing his jaw lovingly with a forefinger, then following its path with small kisses.

  “No doubt,” he said rawly. His blood thickened and his skin grew hot. As his loins grew heavy with want, he had to force himself not to throw his wife to their bed with undue haste.

  She arched her hips upward against him, and Eirik gasped. He saw that she wanted him as fiercely as he wanted her.

  “And no doubt those women were…available to you.”

  Does she really think I noticed other women after having her? “No doubt.” To his pleasure, he saw her eyes flash with anger.

  “And were they sweet and biddable?”

  Is that my shrewish Eadyth looking vulnerable and insecure? “No doubt,” he said silkily, smiling against her lips.

  She nipped at his bottom lip with her teeth to show her displeasure.

  He did the same to hers, continuing, “But I had an odd craving for tartness…and a woman who could turn me biddable. Do you perchance know of such a woman?”