Malice Striker

by Jianne Carlo

  “Aye.”

  He turned to Raki and opened his arms wide. “Bjartr Stjarna.”

  Hjørdis tumbled into his embrace. “I told you Etta was an evil witch.”

  “Aye. You did, sweet sister. I promise to listen to your counsel from now on.”

  * * *

  Within moments of setting out on the return journey to Bita Veðr, Hjørdis had fallen asleep in Konáll’s arms and Skatha in Brökk’s.

  The brothers rode side by side and held their horses at a brisk walk. They had ridden their mounts hard to get to the other side of the fjord. The battle had been short but fierce, and the horses needed a respite. So too did the brothers.

  “She is unharmed. No bruises and her spirit has not been damaged.” Konáll tucked a lock of hair behind Hjørdis’s ear.

  “Aye. Believe you her tale of Skatha flying through the air?” Brökk glanced down at his sleeping wife. She purred into his chest and the tiny vibrations warmed him to the core.

  “Your wife’s ears turned pink when our sister related that story. Methinks ’tis true.”

  “If what the goddess told Lady Gráinne holds true, then Skatha will soon come to learn her own powers.” He spread his hand over her belly. “She is with child, Konáll.”

  “The child will be part immortal, will it not?”

  Brökk shrugged. “It matters not to me, once he has the requisite fingers and toes. Think you he might be born blind?”

  “Say not those words aloud. ’Tis one thing for a female to be blind, but a man.” He shook his head. “Nay. ’Twill not do.”

  They rode in silence for some time. “The whelp, Óttarr, shows great promise. He has a sharp wit and misses naught of what happens around him.”

  “Aye. I will elevate Óttarr to page, and we will train him for the Jomsvikings.” Brökk kneed his steed to the left when the path divided into two. “And I will grant Moldof honored status at Bita Veðr.”

  Konáll rolled his eyes. “I dread the many nights we will have to spend listening to his mangled skald tales. But ’twere not for him, we would never have found Loudon and Etta before they departed for the East.”

  “I still cannot reconcile the spy Moldof with the skald Moldof. Who would have thought him Harald’s man? And that he bested Niketas? ’Tis astounding.”

  “Moldof plays the fool well. We both believed him harmless. ’Twas no wonder he lulled Niketas into boasting too much.”

  Brökk’s hands tightened on the reins. “Aye. By Loki’s toes, the taste of deceit sours my belly. ’Tis only knowing you were played false too that halts the need to pummel Moldof. Had he but shared his suspicions with us, Skatha would ne’er have been taken.”

  Konáll met Brökk’s gaze. “Methinks Moldof did not know the all of it and sought to draw out the play to discover who else was behind the plots. You cannot fault him on his secrecy and when he knew the all, Moldof did not hesitate to raise the alarm and call Sigrid to battle to aid us.”

  “Forsooth, we had need of Sigrid, and our other neighbors this eve.”

  “And Kenneth, King of Scots, who sent the bishop to annul your marriage?”

  “’Tis matters not now. Etta still lived when Skatha and I said our vows. None can annul a marriage which did not take place.” Brökk shrugged. “I will give Lady Gráinne free rein to arrange for the re-saying of our oaths. A grand ceremony with both Christian and Norse vows.”

  The sun’s light streaked across the sky. Bold strokes of red, orange, gold, and silver dusted the horizon. Swallows played with the dawn’s brilliant canvas, swooping and dipping black smudges through the vivid hues.

  In the distance the whitewashed walls of Bita Veðr came into view. Brökk’s mount pranced in place when he drew on the reins. Pride swelled his chest to bursting. With Skatha at his side, his holding would become the home and harbor he’d always dreamed of. They would have sons and daughters who would grow to adulthood without fearing annihilation from one moment to the next, as he and his brothers had. His children would never know hunger, would never be forced into labor, and would be surrounded by naught but loving parents.

  When they reached the great hall, the round globe of the sun hung low in the sky.

  Lady Gráinne and her charges awaited them in the open doorway.

  The second he set foot on the ground, the abbess spewed orders. She insisted that Skatha and Hjørdis be taken to his lodge to be checked for injuries.

  Brökk argued but was soon worn down. ’Twas only for the day, and Skatha and Hjørdis both needed rest, so he surrendered to the abbess’s wishes. The wounded from Tighe’s ship had been carted to the hall, and a makeshift hospital had been established. Half of the benches and tables had been carried to the barn and replaced by a neat line of pallets. Lady Muíríne and Lady Elspeth acted as commanders and secured a few kitchen wenches to assist with tending to the injured.

  Brökk, Konáll, and Raki rode to the hot pools. They soaked in the bubbling, heated waters until their muscles no longer ached.

  “Were you not suspicious when Hilda offered you sustenance? ’Tis not as if she ever had afore.”

  Raki rolled his eyes. “I thought you had commanded her to do so, Brökk. Dóta will ne’er let me hear the end of this. She is always complaining I am too fond of my stomach and would pick a delicacy o’er her.”

  “It matters not, now all are safe and the enemy defeated. ’Tis time you had your own lodge, Raki. Pick your land and build on my coin.”

  The warrior had been leaning against a rock. He straightened. “My thanks, my lord.”

  “’Tis time you had a title, as well. I petitioned Harald on your behalf, Squire.”

  Raki flushed. “I cannot thank you enough, my lord.”

  “You have served well, Raki, and deserve the reward. Had it not been for you and Óttarr, we may not have caught up with Loudon and Etta afore they set sail with Skatha and Hjørdis.” The soothing hot pool had abated the edge of Brökk’s rage, but he clenched his fists anew at the evil his wife had planned.

  Konáll blew out a long sigh. “’Twas fortunate Árne plunged the dagger into Etta’s heart.”

  “Aye, and even better fortune Moldof witnessed the whole of it. None can accuse me of the deed.” Brökk repressed a shudder. Etta was dead and gone and he would think on her treachery no more. “My great regret is Niketas’s escape. I will have my revenge on him, but ’twill wait until the babe is born and Skatha is recovered from the birthing.”

  At dusk they returned to the holding. Brökk walked to his lodge wearing a huge smile. He yearned to hold Skatha in his arms, to fall asleep to the sound of her even breathing, to wake up and look into her seeing eyes.

  Knowing all the ladies were in the dwelling, he knocked on his own door out of consideration.

  To his surprise, Lady Gráinne opened the door. “Jarl.”

  Jarl? He had come to realize when the abbess retreated into formality some sort of pronouncement followed.

  “Lady Gráinne.” She did not move to one side so he could enter. “I have come for my wife.”

  “Ah, therein lies the rub, for truth be speaking, Skatha is not your wife, is she?”

  “You witnessed the consummation.” ’Twas the only argument he managed to formulate.

  “But the vows were not valid.”

  “We will have the priest say them again.”

  “The priest is visiting other holdings. He is due to return in a sennight. But King Kenneth’s bishop can perform the ceremony.”

  “The bishop and his monks departed on the tide.” On pain of death by Brökk’s hand. He had no intention of even informing the women about King Kenneth’s order of annulment until after the babe sprung from Skatha’s womb.

  “Then we must wait for the priest’s return.”

  Brökk shrugged. “Aye. We will say the vows the day he arrives.”

  “I have had your belongings moved to your brother’s lodge.”

  He straightened. “What? Why?”

  “
You and Skatha are not wed. Ere, you cannot live as husband and wife.”

  “Nay. What mean you by this, abbess?” Brökk bent low and stuck his nose in her face. “I will not be separated from my wife.”

  “Stop bellowing, Viking. I am standing in front of you and can hear you well enough. Of course you will not be separated from your wife. When she becomes your wife. Until then she sleeps here with us. You sleep at your brother’s lodge. Howbeit, you are welcome to court her o’er the next sennight.”

  “What did you say?” Brökk gaped at Lady Gráinne.

  “The marriage takes place in a sennight. Until the vow-saying, Skatha will reside with us. You can use the time to court her.”

  “A man doesn’t court his wife,” he roared.

  “Of course not. He courts the woman he hopes to take to wife.”

  The abbess would not budge. By ThMrr’s hammer, he had never met a more stubborn female. Loath to leave Lady Gráinne commanding his wife, but needing to attend to urgent, dire responsibilities, Brökk stamped his way to the crofter’s hut where the bodies of Etta and Loudon were stored and awaiting disposal.

  Konáll met up with him outside the hut and they entered together. The two corpses lay on pallets aligned to the far wall.

  “We will have to give Loudon his due as a baron.” Konáll folded his arms. “An honorable burial for a man most foul and dishonorable.”

  Brökk curled a lip. “’Tis bilious, but we must honor the station if not the man.”

  “And what of Etta? Would that she had in truth drowned in the fjord as we had thought.”

  “Aye. ’Twould’ve been better all around. Howbeit, she was my wife.”

  “She tried to kill you.” Konáll’s lips flattened.

  “It matters not. We will bury Etta in the Viking way. To do aught else would dishonor Skatha when we marry.” Brökk studied the blanket-covered body lying on a pallet. Bitterness coated his tongue. He had no taste for this duty, but never had he shirked his obligations as jarl.

  “Do we this in secret?”

  Brökk shook his head. “Nay. I will have no lies between Skatha and I.”

  “Wise. ’Twere me I would not play false with a wife born of a king and goddess.”

  Brökk rubbed his aching head. “I needs speak with Skatha. I will not have her hear of the burial from another.”

  “Go. Seek your goddess. I will handle all.” Konáll cuffed Brökk’s shoulder. “Go.”

  Brökk needed no further urging. He spun around and marched out of the stables. How would she react, his little cat?

  Lady Gráinne had sent word the women were not accepting visitors until the morrow, but this could not wait. During the morn, the door to his lodge had been replaced by a thick slab of oak reinforced with bands of iron. He stared at the intricate grainy swirls for some moments afore knocking.

  “Lord Brökk.” Lady Gráinne opened the door a hand’s width. “Is aught amiss?”

  “This eve we bury Etta in the Viking way. I ask you allow me a few moments to tell Skatha this news.”

  The abbess’s lips flattened and lines formed between her brows, but she stepped back. “Enter.”

  Skatha sat on the bed pulling a bone comb through Hjørdis’s tawny curls. Cocking her head, she squinted in his direction and shaded her eyes from the bright noonday sun.

  “Brökk!” Hjørdis jumped off the bed, ran to him, and threw her spindly arms around his thigh. She rested her chin on his leg and beamed up at him. “I told Skatha you would come. Where is Konáll? And Earl Tighe? I have heard all about Skatha’s wolfhound, Lawri. Think you we can bring her to Bita Veðr?”

  Brökk grinned. Being held captive for two moons had not dimmed their bright star in the least. “Earl Tighe has left to reclaim Castle Stillhaig and return Vengeance Hammer. Dráddør will make haste to Bita Veðr before the ice claims the seas.”

  He reached for his sister and settled her on his hip. Hjørdis promptly wrapped her long legs around his waist and snuggled into his chest. “I missed your smell.”

  He tweaked her ear. “I have come straight from the hot springs. I do not smell.”

  “Yea, you do. You smell strong and safe.” She tugged his war braid. “Does he not, Skatha?”

  During their play, Skatha had come to stand next to him. “Aye. You do, my lord.”

  Brökk kissed his sister’s forehead. “Bright star, I needs speak with Skatha now.”

  “I know. You needs speak of Etta.” Once more he marveled anew at his sister’s indomitable spirit and ancient wisdom. “Aye. Finish braiding your hair, bjartr stjarna.”

  After he set her down, Hjørdis skipped to the abbess and offered her the comb.

  “I know Etta is dead, Brökk. I fear I nigh tripped over her corpse.”

  Raki had told him of Skatha’s discovery, and Brökk had hoped his wife would not hold a horror of what she had seen. He studied her even features, the serene set of her ruby lips, the twinkle in her violet eyes. Her seeing eyes. Pray Odin, her sight would ne’er be taken again.

  He had no notion of how Skatha would react to the tale of Etta’s deceit and tyranny. He captured Skatha’s hand, pulled her to the farthest corner of the cottage, and tugged her to sit next to him on the other side of the bed. She smelled of spring and sweetness, and he wanted nothing more than to be inside of her. But the news he had to deliver to her was of the direst sort.

  “I wish I had not to speak to you of this.” He cleared his throat and told her what he had pieced together after speaking with all concerned.

  Skatha surprised him again. She squeezed his hand but remained unperturbed. “Etta was not the woman you should’ve taken to wife.”

  “I know.” Brökk studied his small cat. She showed no upset at his tale. “You were meant for me, Skatha.” He twined their hands together.

  The abbess approached the two of them. Brökk glanced at her and knew from her creased brows and thinned lips she had been listening to his and Skatha’s conversation.

  “Lady Gráinne.” Brökk stood, not knowing how to react to such a commanding expression.

  “Jarl.” The abbess folded her hands. “Forgive me, but ’tis too small a chamber for your tale to have gone unheard. My ladies and I will prepare Etta for the ceremony.”

  “Nay—” Brökk would not have Skatha attend to Etta.

  “Skatha will remain here. I will not tangle you and Skatha in this upset. We will handle all.”

  Brökk was sore tempted to embrace the abbess.

  Lady Gráinne signaled her ladies. “We will go now to attend to your wife. Skatha must attend the ceremony, however. ’Tis only fitting.”

  By Odin, he could not have asked for more. The abbess had him at his knees. He would have kissed her senseless in thanks.

  “I will remain here and watch this ceremony from afar. I know, Brökk, that ’tis something you must do. I honor your duty.”

  If he had not been in love with her before, then he would have tumbled fast and hard. At once. She understood. He needed to do this, but he could not put her through it.

  “I will take your leave.” He kissed the vein beating at her wrist.

  “Worry not of me, Brökk. I am the daughter of a giantess and strong of mind, though I may be small in stature. I would have this duty behind us both.” Skatha tiptoed and brushed her lips to his cheek.

  Brökk escorted Lady Gráinne and her charges out of the lodge. They traveled in silence.

  Moroseness dogged him. He did not want the abbess to see Etta with the knife in her chest. “Lady Gráinne, I should warn you. ’Tis not a pretty sight we approach. I would have you steel yourself.”

  “Jarl, I have seen much in my short life. ’Tis nothing you show me that will shock me.” Lady Gráinne adjusted the wimple he so hated. “’Tis a duty of horror you perform, but ’tis a duty of necessity. With this you have proved yourself worthy of Skatha.”

  He knew not what to say. They had reached the crofter’s hut, and the task ahead sat not well on
his belly. “Do you need my assistance, my lady?”

  “Nay. We have done this many times afore.”

  He threw open the door to the cottage and swallowed hard. He had once lusted after Etta. The blanket covering her corpse was white and pure and seemed too chaste to be there. He pointed to the pallet closest to the wall. “Etta is there.”

  Lady Gráinne strode forward followed by her charges.

  Brökk remained close to the doorway observing the females intently.

  The abbess stooped and drew back the linen covering Etta’s face.

  She gasped and her face paled. “Arianne.”

  “For the life of God. Arianne.” Lady Muíríne sank to her knees.

  “Nay.” Lady Elspeth clapped her hand to her chest. “Arianne?”

  “How?” Lady Gráinne touched a finger to the body. “How came she to be your wife? She left Sumbarten for court. The queen herself sent me a missive of her arrival.”

  Brökk wasted no time. He hustled them all out of the stables and separated the abbess from her wards. “My former wife is the Lady Arianne?”

  Even as he said the words, Brökk did not believe them.

  Lady Gráinne nodded. “I do not understand this. But yea, she is.”

  Brökk considered the abbess’s words. He had met Etta at court, but Loudon had not been in attendance. “I would have you view Loudon’s body too.”

  Brökk escorted the abbess back into the hut. He flung the shroud from Loudon’s body. “Do you know him?”

  “Aye. He is the Lady Arianne’s betrothed. He visited the abbey on more than one occasion. Truth be told, he seemed entranced by Skatha and babbled about her magikal eyes.” Lady Gráinne knuckled her wimple-sheathed brow. “I can make no meaning of all this.”

  “Betrothed? Loudon and Etta did not marry?” Mayhap he had never been wed to Etta after all, if she had married Loudon. Brökk dared not surrender to the elation soaring in his veins.

  “Arianne was to be lady in waiting to Queen Lorna while the king and queen were at Scone. They were to marry afore the court moved to Strathclyde. He was not Baron then, but the second son of the Earl of Haddish. We knew him as Sir Colin. The Queen would have sent me a missive if their vows had been said, and Sumbarten would have received the coin due for Arianne’s training.”