He pounced on this thought before it took him too far. That was Hakan’s inheritance. And Hakan is dead.
But even that, he realized, wasn’t what bothered him. And slowly his mind teased out his disquiet like a stubborn splinter, feeling its way back to his strange awakening in the little wood...
His tongue had been dry, his pulse knocking at his temples.
He had sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, trying to piece together the shards of memory, still jagged in his head, only for his belly to clench with nausea. He put his hand there and was shocked to find he was naked. He looked down, confused. Another shock. Because all over his chest were marks – scratches, each one purple and livid and long as his finger. On his shoulders he found more of the same.
He examined them more closely. He’d seen marks like this before, red furrows in his skin dug by fingernails seized with passion. But so many? And how?
It had only been a dream. Hadn’t it?
Flashes of it replayed in his mind. It had been Inga, and yet... not her.
Perplexed, his mind had wandered to half-remembered stories from his boyhood – dark tales of witches abroad in the night seeking journeymen on the road, hungry to ride them, to tear their flesh and enslave their souls.
But those were just stories.
Although, he remembered, his kinsfolk had taken them as warnings. His father had even once told him to avoid love-play with a witch at any cost. ‘A witch will ride you and leave you with limbs locked and sick of life.’
Instinctively, he had shifted his legs. They moved all right. But even that made no sense. He examined the marks again. Had they camped in some haunt of malignant spirits that had conjured up her soul? To taunt him with her again?
None of it made sense. And then he’d heard one of the others moving outside and pushed away his troubled thoughts, reaching for his tunic.
As he pulled it over his head, his mind had been too full of questions to notice that his amulet was gone.
Erlan emerged from the shadow of the hall and gulped down a deep breath of fresh air. The bright and dusty day had softened into a balmy evening, filled with the scent of the nearby pines. He was hungry.
He turned his back on the yard and ambled towards the jumbled roofs to the east. Somewhere at the foot of one of those skeins of smoke, Kai would be cooking. Least, he hoped so.
He hadn’t seen Kai since his return, as he’d been summoned at once to the king’s council. He found himself looking forward to Kai’s idle chatter. Perhaps he would tell him about what happened in the wood. Perhaps his friend would have an opinion. He had opinions about most things. As for the news of the earldom, Kai would turn cartwheels about that.
The dying sun was throwing swathes of pink light through the gaps between the byres and barns as he walked home. He was leaving the shadow of one into another blaze of light when a figure suddenly appeared in front of him.
Half-blinded, he saw only a silhouette, then strong fingers seized his throat. He tried to shout but the hand clamped his cry to a whimper, slamming him against the wall.
Pure instinct had him reaching for the seax at his back, but before his fingers touched the haft a knee drove into his groin. He doubled over, every ounce of air knocked out of him, pain flooding through his body. He still had no clue who was attacking him. All he could do was groan as the hand smashed his head back against the wall.
‘Look at me, cripple!’ a voice hissed.
Through watering eyes, Erlan saw sunken cheeks, a half-dead gaze over a pale sneer.
‘Vargalf?’ he moaned, the blow still ringing through his head.
‘I have a message from my master.’ The fingers tightened, digging deep into his gullet. ‘Old men don’t live for ever. So enjoy the evening sun. Because for you, cripple... night is coming.’
The grip vanished. Erlan fell to his knees, sucking in breath after bloody breath.
When he looked up, he was alone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Bara slipped the comb through the glossy hair that fell to the queen’s waist. In the mirror, the pale green eyes gazed back at themselves, lost in thought.
The comb struck a knot. The green eyes darted at her reflection, narrowed with irritation.
‘Sorry, my lady,’ Bara muttered, gripping the hair higher and picking out the knot.
She loved and dreaded this part of her service. Loved it because she never felt more important than when she was beautifying the queen. Dreaded it because Saldas was no easy mistress, often cutting her down with a word, sometimes even slapping her face. But then she’d get a smile like a sunrise.
So unpredictable...
But tonight Bara had more reason than usual to be nervous. Tonight would be different. Because she knew what she knew. True, she could hardly believe it – but hadn’t she heard it with her own ears?
She had guessed the queen was up to something that night in the wood. By now she knew her well enough to know the woman was only pleasant when she wanted something. Bara had watched her closely that night. And a good thing she had. Saldas could play tricks on other folks if she wanted, but not on her. Bara wasn’t stupid.
She’d noticed the little extras Saldas had brought along. A gourd here, another pouch there. And when the queen took all that time fetching that wineskin, she’d suspected something. Again when there was a whiff of something strange in her cup. Oh, ever so subtle – but Bara had caught it. And she knew what to do. The nasty stuff had gone in the dirt where it belonged.
It was a simple enough trick – to look like she was swallowing while she spat the stuff back into the horn. Hel, she could have pretended to gulp it back till the Ragnarök and Saldas never would have guessed unless she had actually looked inside. But of course, the queen had to watch Erlan sometimes, didn’t she? And when she did it was nothing for Bara to drop her hand and spill a little more on the ground.
So now she knew...
This haughty queen was not so noble after all. Why, she’d been rutting like a doe on heat. And all that while, Saldas had believed she was asleep. Gunn’s blood! Whatever was in that brew would have had to kill her if she wasn’t going to wake up to that racket.
But that’s always the way of things, ain’t it? A woman like Saldas always got what she wanted, always reckoned herself smarter than the rest. But she’d been caught out now, good and proper.
It was a weighty question, though. What to do about this choice little morsel? The king cuckolded by his slut of a queen and the cripple? It was pure gold! But what she could make of it was a bit of a puzzle.
Of course, if the queen had taken her into her confidence, it could have been different. If she’d only trusted her... Why, she would have taken the secret to her grave. It was Saldas who had played her false. Had tried to dose her...
No. Bara was tired of being pushed around, taken for granted. Tired of all those years as a thrall-girl, used by this man or that. By anyone who wanted her... Of course, she had learned how to get her way eventually. She had her looks, after all. And when it came down to it, men were like iron – get them hot enough and you could bend them however you wanted. But she’d never had any real power, nothing that could change her lot in life.
Until now.
This was something different. If she played this right, she could get what she wanted for a long time to come.
She swallowed hard.
Saldas was so deep in thought that when Bara suddenly spoke it startled her. The girl began blathering on about the hardships of their journey and Saldas sighed. She did so hate the banalities that had to pass between a mistress and her servants.
Tonight, of all nights, she was in no mood for idle talk. Much to her annoyance, the king’s health appeared markedly improved. He had invaded her chamber that afternoon overflowing with affection. Of course, she had played the part of dutiful wife. But the change in him was most galling. She had half-hoped three days of hard feasting would finish off the old fool. But every sickness that took
hold of him he seemed to slough off like a snake shedding its skin.
‘Course, there are some to be had.’ Again, Bara’s voice interrupted her thoughts. ‘Don’t you agree, my lady?’
‘Some what?’ she said, irritably.
‘Pleasures...’ The girl’s reflection was artlessly blank. ‘On the road.’ Meanwhile, her nimble fingers continued braiding Saldas’s hair.
‘Whatever can you mean?’
‘Well, it’s not all discomfort, is it?’
‘The road?’
‘Aye! What with summer blooming and the sun on your face...’
‘And the rain? I seem to remember you enjoyed that.’
‘You have me there, my lady,’ Bara smiled. ‘Still, I don’t think I ever slept sounder than those nights on the road.’
‘Perhaps you need more work if you’re having trouble sleeping.’
‘Now you’re teasing, my lady.’
Saldas had been entirely serious.
‘Didn’t half have some funny dreams, though. And the night in that little wood... that was the strangest of the lot.’
Saldas glanced up at Bara’s reflection, eyes narrowing. What was this now? ‘Go on.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly share it, my lady.’ She covered her mouth. Her pale cheeks bloomed slightly. ‘It wasn’t quite decent, you see. But so vivid – especially the sound of... well, you know. Why, like it was happening right outside— oh dear, my lady, am I embarrassing you?’
‘What?’
‘It’s just... your cheeks are all flush. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said—’
‘You need hardly be delicate on my account.’ Saldas turned away from the mirror to compose herself. It only took a moment. She cursed inwardly. She should have been ready for this. Should have planned for the worst. Instead, this brazen slut seemed to think she could play her. When she looked back, the girl was eyeing her carefully – too carefully, she thought.
‘And what, pray, are we supposed to make of your little woodland fantasy?’
‘Couldn’t rightly say, my lady. I know there are some who can read folk’s dreams. Still, I’d have to be careful who I told a thing like that. You never know where it might end up.’ She chuckled, a little too knowingly for Saldas’s liking.
‘Dreams have a way of fading.’
‘Often. But something tells me this one won’t.’
For a while, neither spoke. Saldas was thinking, her mind threading this way and that like a needle on a tapestry, trying to find a way through. Bara had finished the queen’s night-braid now. She went back to tucking away the strands of stray hair.
Saldas’s hand went to her pendant, fingers plucking thoughtfully at each golden link. As she did, her golden cuff slipped down her wrist.
‘That gold becomes you very prettily, my lady.’
She often said drab little things like that, but this time something told in her eye. So that’s it. How pathetically commonplace. Somehow, she was disappointed. If the girl was bold enough to try to extract something from her, Saldas had credited her with a more original motive than simple greed.
‘What – these things?’ True, the pieces suited her well, each of them crafted by the most skilled hands in Uppland, solid gold with delicate filigree in exquisite framing. Such things were for queens or goddesses, not thrall-girls. ‘Why don’t you try them on?’ she suggested.
‘Oh no, I couldn’t. They wouldn’t suit me half so well.’
False modesty. She despised it. She could see the little slut was itching to get her fingers on them. She slipped off the cuffs and handed them over. ‘I insist.’ Bara put down her comb and pushed the cuffs over her hands. ‘Let’s pretend, shall we?’ Saldas smiled. ‘You shall be the queen and I, your servant.’ Bara looked at her doubtfully. ‘Come, will it not be amusing?’
‘I suppose.’
‘Excellent.’ She pulled Bara in front of her and seated her on the stool. ‘Of course we must see how this looks on you, as well.’ She removed her necklace and slipped it over Bara’s head.
Bara sighed with delight. ‘They’re so pretty.’
‘Oh, we’re not finished yet.’ Saldas loosened Bara’s braids and spread her cloud of auburn hair about her shoulders, fussing with the tresses at the front until just a strand or two fell across her sharp blue eyes. ‘Well?’
Bara couldn’t keep the grin from her face. She touched the gold around her neck, wonderingly. ‘I’ve never worn anything so precious,’ she whispered. And then, apparently remembering her purpose, she added, ‘Why, they could make me quite forget about everything else. For a while...’
It was all so painfully transparent.
‘How long is a while?’
‘Might be weeks. Months, even.’
‘And then?’
‘Who knows? But it’s funny how things we think are long forgotten have a habit of popping up again.’
Of course it is. Saldas smiled. ‘Stand up.’ The maid rose and let Saldas position her full length before the mirror. ‘There,’ Saldas murmured, close to her ear. ‘See how beautiful you look.’ And it was true. The girl looked perfectly lovely, her face shining with admiration for her own reflection. In the soft light of the braziers, the gold glinted against her pale skin, off-setting the shades of her fire-red hair.
Saldas was close behind her now. She reached up and ran a fingertip ever so gently across her servant’s brow. ‘A girl so pretty has no need of a mind troubled with bad dreams.’
Bara shook her head. Her long hair rippled down her back. Saldas could hear the shallowness in her breathing, could practically smell the excitement on her.
She reached round and slid her hand down over the girl’s soft belly. At first Bara flinched. They always flinch, Saldas thought. But rarely did they push her hand away. She let her fingers drift downwards until she could feel the heat between the girl’s thighs through the brushed wool of her dress.
‘Is that what you long for?’ she murmured. ‘An untroubled mind?’ Bara didn’t answer. She was staring at Saldas in the mirror, concentrating on her face. Saldas pressed the tips of her fingers inwards. A small gasp escaped Bara’s lips. But then she leaned back and slipped her hand over the queen’s knuckles as they found their rhythm. The girl was shorter than her, her figure soft and full. Saldas could feel her fleshy rump push against her thighs.
She wondered how many men had had this girl. Whether she always gave herself away like this – with no resistance whatsoever. Maybe she had learned it was easier that way, that to give away her body didn’t really mean anything after all. Or rather it always meant something other than itself. It meant power or vanity or spite or anger or vengeance. Just occasionally it meant love.
Saldas had loved a woman once – one of her father’s concubines who had been a few years older than her. Korella. She had taught her much. Given her much. But then her father had caught them one night and in a rage had sold Korella to a trader from faraway Åland. Saldas had wept for a few nights until her father’s beatings dried her eyes. Those were the last tears she had ever wept for love. After that, she had sworn that her heart was dead to it.
There was a humming sound in Bara’s throat, growing louder. Saldas could feel the wet heat through her dress. Perhaps she would take Bara as a lover. There might be certain pleasures to be had, certain advantages to keeping her mouth occupied with something other than spreading her little secret. Then again, that sort of thing always became complicated. Always created more unpicked threads that might unravel. No. Better to find a more permanent solution.
The girl was moaning now, her body bucking back against her. There was something satisfying about feeling the climax shake its way out of her, about seeing the tiny quiverings in the flushed face in the mirror, about the half-open mouth, the tongue probing at the air. A kind of victory. A kind of possession. But like all things, it passed away soon enough.
Bara sagged back into her arms, breathless. ‘I wonder,’ Saldas murmured, her lips brushing the edge of
Bara’s ear, ‘will this help you to forget?’
‘Oh yes,’ the servant gasped. ‘Oh yes, my lady.’
Saldas ran her nails lightly down Bara’s forearm till she came to the golden cuff. ‘You may keep these then, if they will take your mind off things. And this.’ She touched the necklace.
‘They’re really mine?’
‘They are.’ But suddenly, without warning, she dug her nails deep into Bara’s wrist and caught those fiery curls, yanking them back, hard. Bara yelped. ‘So we have an understanding. Do we not?’
A shiver of fear passed over the girl’s face. She nodded awkwardly.
‘Good.’ Saldas softened her grip. ‘Good.’ She turned Bara to face her. ‘A queen’s handmaiden ought to be beautiful. I’ll be glad to make you as beautiful as you can be... If it will keep you from bad dreams.’
Bara nodded uncertainly.
‘Well,’ Saldas sighed. ‘We may do this again. But I’m tired now. Leave me.’
‘Can I at least help you... to undress?’ Saldas couldn’t tell whether this was a clumsy proposition or else the little thief had at last remembered her place.
‘Not now. Attend me in the morning.’
‘As you wish then... I trust you sleep well.’
Bara bowed and scurried from the chamber.
‘You sleep well too, my brazen beauty,’ Saldas whispered when she was gone. ‘Though I fear your dreams may bring you more than gold.’
For where gold goes, blood is sure to follow.
Her smile dissolved.
How the scheming little whore had outwitted her in the wood was of little account now. All that mattered was that she knew. And despite that the girl was a fool, there was real danger here. Gold and a few favours of the flesh might buy her silence for a time, but it would not last. And if Sviggar ever found out, she doubted whether even she could turn aside his wrath.
She cursed.
How dare the spiteful bitch blackmail her? Well, the girl wouldn’t live to make any more mistakes like this one. Things would have to move faster now. The time had come to move her plans forward. And this silly servant-girl had stumbled across a part to play in them. Saldas grew calmer as her racing thoughts began to order themselves.
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