by Jill Hughey
David cursed lowly before asking, “Where was Doeg during all of this?”
“He was there. He protested occasionally, but Doeg almost disappears in your father’s presence, doesn’t he?”
“Then what happened?” David asked, not sure if he could rationally discuss his father or his brother much longer, but certain he wanted to hear her story.
“I just wanted to get away from the table, but I was almost afraid to move. Some of the men were distracted by a serving woman so I ran toward your room. One of them grabbed me and Magnus had to bite him.”
“Grabbed you.” His hands clenched into fists behind her back as the picture of rough Bavarian fingers clutching her waist flashed through his mind. An unpleasant answer to an unpleasant question.
“Yes. I got away. In fact, I think Doeg may have kept that man from continuing after me. He had his spata out when I slammed the door.”
David’s chest rose and fell rapidly as he tried to focus on the story. “You say you ran to my room?”
“They said it was your room, the little storeroom. The noises that come from that hall! I refused to open the door for anyone. Except Ingrid. She was a serving girl — not like the others though. She brought me everything I needed. She helped to keep me safe in the room. Until your father nigh to shouted the door down.”
David squeezed her, sensing her reluctance to continue. “What did he say?”
“He said I was not earning my keep, that the mending was not enough.”
“Mending!” he burst out, immediately sorry when Rochelle startled in his arms. He quickly soothed her. “He said you needed to do more?”
“That if I was going to stay I would have to come out to help serve the men.”
“You are sure he meant something more than delivering platters of food?”
“He said maybe you wanted me to learn to be a good Bavarian woman. The women in his house sit on the men’s laps and take money for…things. The men had been looking at me. They looked at me like a bad promise. They talked about my appearance. If you had been there, you would understand.”
“If I had been there, they wouldn’t have looked at you that way. They would not have looked at you at all, much less grabbed you.” He tried to squash his fury. Doeg had hinted darkly that things had deteriorated at Calx, but David couldn’t imagine his father’s house being in such decline that a respectable woman wasn’t safe.
What he did not doubt was the extent of Rochelle’s fear. She clung to him, her eyes wide and stricken. Moreover, he knew she understood the dangers of winter travel. From what he could tell, she had no horse, no food, and no dry clothing. It would take a serious threat to force her from shelter into dangerous weather so poorly prepared. Whether that threat was real had almost no bearing on his outrage any more. There was absolutely no excuse for her being here alone when she should be under Doeg’s care. The fact that no one had arrived searching for her suggested they hadn’t even noticed her absence.
He tried hard to temper his anger, having no one handy and deserving on which to vent it. In any case, his first priority was to ease her concern.
“You are safe now with me and Magnus. You should sleep.”
Rochelle finally tipped her head back to look at him. His hair was flattened down around his head, the skin of his face reddened from days in the cold, and his eyes were bloodshot. “You could use some sleep too.”
He kissed her forehead then helped her nestle in front of the fire. He covered her with every dry blanket and cloak he had, tucking them around her against any drafts. “I was so glad to have Magnus,” she whispered. “He stayed in the room with me. I am sure he kept them out.”
David nearly choked on his complete failure. He should be her protector, not the damned dog. Not a serving girl. “Sleep,” he whispered against her temple. And she did, her reddish-brown lashes glittering in the dancing firelight.
He sat close behind her, staring blindly at the flames. He doubted he would sleep at all. For so long, he’d misplaced his loyalty with his family. Now he was cast adrift, roiling in a sea of rage and doubt and inadequacy. All his instincts told him to believe Rochelle, which meant he must believe the worst of his father, and perhaps his brother, as well. He didn’t think she could have conjured such an outlandish tale. And nothing explained her being here better than an imperative need to not be there.
Believing her meant he had to accept that his own brother and father had intended to do harm to his wife, or, at the very least, had purposely scared the hell out of her, and that his own brother had probably set people against him a month or more ago. It was difficult to swallow without seeing what she had seen, which meant returning to his father’s house and probably wreaking a fair bit of retributory havoc.
He studied Rochelle’s pale face, remembering the blueness around her lips a few hours ago and the bruises at her waist. His blood pounded harder in his veins, this anger at her mistreatment an exponentially greater thing than he’d ever experienced before. It made his temper before the tournament seem like a wisp of feeling, a shadow of no consequence. He wanted to scream and swear and hurt somebody. He knew he had to channel it or at least gain mastery over it, yet it still overwhelmed him.
His wife sighed and turned in her sleep, searching for him. He lay down to settle her against him, filled with gratification that she unconsciously accepted him despite his myriad failings.
Her softness penetrated his angry spirit, soothing him enough to let him think more clearly. The fury could not stand against her breath on his neck. It did not leave him, but receded, coiled in a dark place within. He contemplated this in some wonder. Her presence gentled him in a powerful and profound way. Unbidden but undeniable. She had always had that effect on him, since she’d first cured his headache in a glade along the road.
Such a great number of things she’d taught him and gifted to him in the short time they’d known one another.
She’d not only taught him tenderness, she’d shown him how the world was supposed to operate. Those who were smarter, richer or more powerful helped along the downtrodden. One could be firm where needed, but guidance was given wherever possible. It would be so easy to approach his father and Doeg with only revenge on his mind, to use his blade and his fists and let the devil take them. Yet his wife’s code of responsibility suggested he might try to help his family.
He’d never thought to be led by a woman, until Rochelle had proven her good judgment to him again and again. The decision of what to do and where to go next would partly be hers. Of only one thing he was certain: he would not let her be afraid again.
Chapter Thirty-Five
David did sleep, waking long after dawn when the fire had guttered, letting chilly air seep back into the hut. He slipped away from Rochelle to add wood to the hot coals. She stirred, watching him for a few minutes before speaking.
“What do we do now?” she asked huskily, struggling to sit up amidst all the blankets and cloaks piled on her.
He went to the table for a bundle of dried apples. “It is up to you. I will take you home if you like,” he said slowly, bringing a handful of the fruit to her before sitting in a chair a few feet away, “then I have a few scores I plan to settle, along with a responsibility to help my brother and father. Do you agree?”
Her head was cocked to one side. She nibbled on a bit of apple. “I do not know exactly what kind of help you hope to offer.”
David sighed. “I do not know either. I hardly knew my own father before, and certainly do not recognize him in your description.”
“Ingrid told me more than once that his home has changed since you last visited. Even with the depravity I witnessed, there is still a code of conduct of sorts. I think Drogo and Doeg know things are not as they should be.”
“Then it is their responsibility to fix it.”
“Yes, it is. Your father still carries all the authority, and he is aging.”
“Don’t you mean he is demented?” David countered with a s
harpness that dwindled into a sad smile. “Maybe that is why Doeg wanted me to come home so badly.”
“Why would he not just say so?”
“Pride. We are not very good at asking for help. It is a great weakness in my family, or so it seems.”
“I would like to return with you,” Rochelle said decisively. “If for no other reason than to get my horse. I am very attached to him, you know.” She gave him a brave smile.
“You do not have to go back there. I can bring him to you and take you home.”
“No, that is too much extra traveling. More importantly, I want to be with you. I do not want us to separate again. And, I am willing to help your family if I can.”
“Are you certain?” he asked, searching her eyes.
“Yes.”
He smiled, relieved. “Let us stay here one more night. Woden could use a full day of rest, and it would not hurt the two of us either.” He strode over to kiss the top of her head before walking to the door. “I have got to find more wood for tonight and check Woden. I will not go far. Call for me if you need me.”
Rochelle lay back down, eating crescents of apple while she considered returning to the place she’d nearly killed herself to leave. Things would be different with David at her side. She only hoped they were different enough. Though she knew he didn’t approve of Drogo’s treatment of her, David’s family loyalty ran deep. His outrage had been obvious last night. She sensed a continuing undercurrent of anger, but he’d said very little about what he intended to do at Calx.
Magnus drew her attention. He crept toward the door, the hackles rising over his spine. She had been expecting all day yesterday to be caught by Doeg or someone else from Drogo’s house. She’d dropped her guard when David arrived, belatedly realizing she was completely naked beneath the cloak and blankets swaddling her. She should have at least dressed in anticipation of an unwelcome visitor.
Magnus’s sharp bark startled her. She knew David would hear him. He would return quickly to handle whomever it was. Still, she gathered the layers of coverings close around her, hoping nobody forced her to move from her nest. The dog kept barking at the figure of a man visible through the cracks in the walls.
“Be quiet, you cur,” Doeg shouted. He forced his way in the door. “I have known you longer than she.”
Magnus stood his ground and growled in his throat. Doeg leaned on the frame of the door, snorting with disdain when he saw her huddled on the floor. He glanced lazily about the room. His eyes fixed on the leather pack for a moment, then assessed the cloak Rochelle clutched about her shoulders.
“Did you come here with a man?” he asked, more incredulous than accusing.
“Magnus, come,” Rochelle ordered. The dog immediately quieted, backing up to stand in front of her, the hair on his back still spiked in warning. “I came here alone.”
“There is certainly someone else here now. After hiding from all willing partners, you met a man in my hunting cabin? To think I had begun feeling sorry for you. My brother will be quite interested in this. I wish he were here!”
“He is here!” David shouted from outside the hut. Doeg whirled. “He has plenty to be angry about, but his wife’s adultery is not on the list. No thanks to you.”
Doeg staggered back against the other side of the doorframe. He looked outside, then to Rochelle and back again. “But how…why…how did you get here?”
At first Rochelle could only hear David. As he came into her view, his transformation astonished her. He had worn a smile when he left the hut. He now carried himself as he had during the tournament, with predatory control. Deadly. The hard planes of his face betrayed his barely shackled rage. His eyes bored into Doeg like matched daggers. She realized he’d kept his anger carefully harnessed and hidden from her. Beneath the surface it had simmered, waiting for the right moment to boil over. That moment might be now.
He grabbed Doeg by the arm and wrenched him out the door. Doeg’s feet kicked up plumes of snow. “You know what your problem is, Doeg? You do not use any of your God-given abilities. If you were a man accustomed to fending for himself or using his own wits for survival, you would have noticed Woden tethered in that shed before you came storming in this door trying to intimidate Rochelle. You would not only have known someone was here, you would have known it was me.” He assessed his brother, head to foot. “You have been very careful to not be your own man, haven’t you? You relax by Father’s fire while he plans the rape of his own daughter-in-law. My wife!”
“Rape? Now see here, David, I do not know what tales she has been spinning for you —”
“Do not lie to me, you weak bastard. I heard you. If you had come to her with an apology, or even the suggestion of concern for her welfare, I might have at least believed you and Father were playing some kind of disgusting game with her. You just accused her of hiding from willing partners. Do you deny saying it? Can you deny what it means?”
Doeg opened and closed his mouth several times. “Let us come in from the cold,” he said as he moved toward the door.
David shoved him back, both hands blasting against his chest to force Doeg into a backward stumble. David crossed the threshold to place himself in front of Rochelle. She reached out to touch his calf, for reassurance, then withdrew. His hand flexed at his side. I am here.
Doeg entered cautiously. He swung the door shut and sidled along the wall. His eyes were shrouded, the cold confidence gone as his mind worked, trying to find a way back into David’s good graces.
After a few long minutes, he settled on a tactic that had never failed. He smiled humbly. “You are right, David. I am weak. The weak brother of the emperor’s favorite warrior. You have always been the better of us.”
“Stop it!” David barked, striding forward to confront him again. “You are not a victim in this. She is the victim! She has bruises, for God’s sake! If the activities she described are even half true then you and my father are running your home like a pigsty filled with the worst sort of swine. Do not even try to look innocent.” He poked Doeg in the chest. “You are the eldest, the inheritor, and you are letting our family’s home and pride be destroyed by what? Drink? Lust? Laziness?”
Doeg shoved David’s hand away. “I have no power against our father. What if I did? What would be different? I will never have what you have.” Doeg gestured to Rochelle, then lifted his crippled arm. “With no wife and no children, who cares about an estate in ruin?”
“Ah Doeg, you wear that arm like a tabard. You use it to pronounce your plight in the world, to beg for pity and to lower everyone’s expectations of you. And I have helped you do it, God forgive me.” David ran his fingers through his hair. “You took Rochelle from her home, a home where you received undeserved hospitality, I might add. You cannot blame the abduction of my wife on your blighted arm!”
“Oh, yes, the perfection of Alda,” Doeg sneered. “Everything so neat and pristine and perfectly ordered. Do you know how it galled me to return to my — what did you call it? — pigsty, yes, my pigsty after seeing your new home? It only further displayed my own failures and everything I am lacking!”
“Do not try to make this about Alda,” David shouted. “You removed my wife from our home against her will and mine, I suspect. You willfully brought her to a place you knew she would be in danger. You made those choices, Doeg. You, and you alone. It frightens me exactly how much that says about the man you have become.”
Doeg stared at David as though he’d just struck him. “Choices,” he hissed. “I did not choose this arm, David. I did not choose to be the son left behind to be sacrificed while Mother sent you, the undamaged one, to safe haven. You are the only one in our family who has not suffered under his fist, so do not tell me to make better choices!”
They stood nose to nose, and for once, Doeg wasn’t backing down. He quaked as though something dreadful was about to burst out if him in all directions.
David shook his head slightly. “What are you talking about?”
&n
bsp; Doeg curled his lip, but did not speak. Silence had been too deeply ingrained in him.
“Doeg,” Rochelle said softly.
His eyes slid to her, glaring.
“Can I ask you a question about your arm?” She didn’t wait for his verbal permission, encouraged only by his lack of response. “Did your father do it?”
David’s sharp intake of breath was the only sound in the room. Doeg backed up until he pressed tight against the wall. He stared at the dirt floor. Several seconds ticked by.
“Our father crippled you?” David asked, horrified. “You never told me,” he breathed. “Never a word, from either of you.”
“You were young, David, and then you were gone.” Doeg bit out. “No one ever speaks of it. But then again, you never did ask, either.”
“I thought you did not want to talk about it. I…I do not know what to say. How did it happen?”
Doeg lifted his eyes, resignation on his face. “Even without the injury, I do not think I ever would have been as capable a fighter as Father, or you, for that matter. He was trying to train me. I was not quick enough. I was not applying myself as I should. To be honest, I really wanted to be down at the river with the peasant children. It was hot that day and I was tired.” Doeg’s good arm wrapped around to cradle his weak elbow. “Father became frustrated. He wrenched my arm and struck it with the flat of his spata. Something popped. Popped and cracked at the same time. The joint did not heal properly. It fused.”
Rochelle raised her hand to her mouth in horror.
“It was an accident,” Doeg continued. “He did not mean to hurt me. At least that is what Mother said. Mother saw the whole thing, though she did not live long enough to know I was crippled. He has always acted as if it were my fault.” He shrugged as though it didn’t really matter. “But you,” he pointed accusingly to David, “you were sent away. Mother had you sneaked out without Father’s permission. The chosen one.”