Her Heart's Desire

by Merritt, Allison

  Or die. Idunna's stomach turned. “But the fletch scored nothing vital?”

  Still pale, Ealasaid washed blood from her hands. “I don't believe so. The angle it entered his shoulder tore a great deal of muscle. He'll be miserably sore, but it should all knit together again without leaving permanent damage.”

  “They meant it for Hella.” The shaft lay on the floor where Ealasaid had dropped it. If not for Eoghann's quick work, they might be mourning the loss of their leader.

  “Our numbers are low from the battle. Perhaps whatever Jarl Ofbradh's quarrel is about can be settled without more bloodshed.” Ealasaid rubbed her eyes. The weary queen overcame the determined healer. “I'm in no mood for more fighting. Not while winter rages outside.” She sighed. “I must settle Birgir's questions and see to Fulla before I seek Hella. You may stay with him, Idunna, but you should wash and change out of your stained clothing. He shouldn't wake for a while, but if he does, it may frighten him to see you so out of order.”

  “I'll soak them for you,” Ulrika offered. “Then I'll bring you something warm to drink. You're shaking. A mug of hot mead will set you to rights.”

  A husband, whole and healed, would serve her better. “My thanks, Ulrika. I won't be long.” She grimaced. “I hope they've killed the bowman already and I hope Hella sends his head to Ofbradh.”

  “Don't fret. Justice will be had.” Ealasaid wrapped Idunna in an embrace. “To attack the king's family is an outrage. Someone will pay and we'll soon know who.”

  * * * *

  The white-hot burn of pain must be the punishment for sinking an axe into his own brother's head. To end a war that should never have been started, he'd become a kin killer. Saving Ealasaid hadn't reduced the severity of his sin. His good deeds fell short of outweighing the bad. Too many villages unable to defend themselves were burned because he'd been afraid to say no. Women and children had died because he didn't protest Diarmaid's actions. He'd been among a horde that trampled crops and left people—no different than himself—to starve in winter's cruel grip. Robbed Idunna of the chance to be at home among her own clan with his filthy Saxon blood.

  Every barbed hook that pierced Eoghann's shoulder was a punishment earned.

  A cool hand fell on his forehead. “Eoghann?”

  Christo, let it be one of those damned vikingrs' Valkyries or the monks' holy angels come to bear me away.

  He forced gritty eyes open and shivered beneath the wool blanket covering him to mid-chest.

  Idunna's concerned face hovered near his. No angel, then. At least not one sent from Heaven to relieve him of mortality. But not Hell, either, which was some relief. His sweet wife, tending him as promised, though he'd never felt less like making love.

  “You're hot,” she murmured.

  “The opposite.” Had she left the door open and allowed winter to come inside? He pulled the blanket higher. “Water?”

  “Yes.” She turned, then retrieved a horn cup for him. “I have herbs for the pain and to bring down the fever. You slept through the night, barely restless until now. Ealasaid changed the poultice a few hours ago. She has high hopes for your recovery.”

  “At the moment, it feels as though all the demons of the Underworld are dancing in my shoulder.” He drank while she held the cup for him. Weakness plagued his body, although he was too thirsty to protest her help. Could I fight if I had to? Unlikely. “I asked Hella to keep you safe. Where is he?”

  She avoided his gaze. “Asleep if he has any sense, though it's more likely he's sitting in the dark with his brothers, waiting for another attack. The bowman admitted he came on the jarl's order.”

  His eyelids dragged down. “Before or after Erik tortured the truth out of him?”

  “Well before. Looking at Erik for long is not an easy thing. When he brought out his knife, they say the bowman fouled himself before Erik could even threaten him.”

  “I would have liked to see that. Terrible Erik with one eye and a broken nose.” He tried to shift on the hard surface, but it sent another fiery bolt of pain through him. “I would rest better in my own bed.”

  “Perhaps this afternoon if you're stronger. A table is no place for a man your size, but anyone big enough to move you is asleep or occupied for now.” She brushed hair from his face. “I can bring more blankets. First you must drink the tinctures Ealasaid prepared.”

  “Where is she? The boy and girl are well?”

  “She's sleeping. Birgir too. I imagine Fulla's awake, but Ulrika planned to tend her. I'm confident she's taken care of.” She offered him another cup. “The contents are bitter. There's no way to improve the taste. Drink. I have comfrey to rub around the wound. It will help your flesh knit.”

  Fortunately, there was only a small amount of liquid in the new cup. It soured on his tongue, but if the poor flavor dulled the pokers in his shoulder, so be it. “Forgive me, Idunna, for shoving you in the courtyard. I hope you weren't injured.”

  “Of course not. What you did was remarkable. Stupid, but you did save Hella's life.” Her fingers lighted on his scarred cheekbone. “Why did you put yourself at risk?”

  “He didn't see it. I only caught the marksman from the corner of my eye, but...there was enough time to make him move.” He closed his eyes. “I swore allegiance. If he asks service of me, I will do what I must.”

  Her footsteps shuffled across the floor as she retrieved the comfrey. “I was angry with you for hitting Erik, but I've had time to reflect on it. What you did will reach the ears of others. When they hear you stood up to Erik and saved Hella, people won't see a Saxon. They will see a hero.”

  “What do you see, wife?” He managed to drag his eyelids open. “The poorly creature you pulled from the jarls' claws weeks ago?”

  Her hands cupped either side of his face. “A man brave enough to save his sister and nephew from heartbreak, even at the risk of his own life. You are extraordinary.”

  His tongue felt thick against his teeth. Her touch made it difficult to think. “Oaf-bread came to the assembly. Fat, ugly, great bearded swine.”

  “I recall.” Idunna's voice was soft. Her hand moved to his shoulder near the wound. “Hella will punish him for his vain error. Go back to sleep. I'll be here when you wake.”

  He believed her as he hadn't believed anyone since Ealasaid swore they'd run across the aos si conducting fae business under the full moon at Suibhne.

  Chapter Six

  The arrival of the jarls didn't herald celebration any more than the last time they had come to Solstad. Bitter winds caused them to lean over their horse's necks and their cloaks to flutter like banners. None of the three or their escorts of warriors seemed pleased to be here.

  Idunna dropped her gaze as the men made their way up the path to the hall. None spared her a passing glance, as though she were made of stone rather than flesh and blood. Their business was war, not pleasure.

  Snow crunched behind her. An arm snaked around her shoulders. The sound of Eoghann's footsteps were so familiar, she didn't bother looking at him until he was right beside her. “You're supposed to be resting.”

  He held her close as he surveyed the newcomers. “A brief walk from my bedchamber to the courtyard will hardly kill me.” His smile was more of a grimace. The cold brought out red apples of color on his cheeks. The rest of his face was pale and drawn. “They've come prepared to fight. Gatherings of lords and men with pointy sticks is a thing to worry about in Edinburgh.”

  “No less so here.” She frowned. “It's too cold to linger outside. You'll catch a fever.”

  “I was born in winter, did you know?”

  She shook her head. “You didn't tell me before.”

  “During a raging storm of ice and snow. Nearly all our livestock froze where they stood. The elders claimed it was the worst storm in fifty winters. When I was born, I had no breath. My skin was blue. The Kentigern grabbed me by the ankles, carried me outside and gave me a good thump across the arse. The very first breath I took was full of air
colder than this. Cold enough to freeze your fingers off if you stayed out more than a few minutes. But the Kentigern held me up and looked straight into my eyes. He swore they went from a newborn's blue to the color they are now.”

  Idunna laughed. “And had he been drinking to while away time until your birth?”

  Eoghann smiled. “He was fond of a sweet mead.”

  “I imagined as much. Come, Winter-born, anything worth hearing will be said in the hall, not in the courtyard. I supposed it would take Hella's elkhounds on guard to keep you from entering that room.”

  “Vigr, Rifa, and ten more.” His humor faded. “I kept Hella from harm's way. It's my right to hear any plans they settle on regarding their intentions to make Ofbradh pay.”

  Arguing with him would only increase his agitation. “We should hurry. They'll be presenting themselves to Hella and Ealasaid.”

  The great hall was full of people. Larger than the one at Freysteinn, it seemed to contain every curious spectator in the village among the visiting warriors. Hella stood in front of his throne, grim-faced with his brows pushed together. His frown suggested he might kill the first person to utter a word against him.

  He raised his hand. The chatter in the hall died. “Welcome. I am pleased you chose to place great importance on my message and joined us here.” He gestured at Erik. “Bring the prisoner.”

  Erik shoved a large man into the room.

  The prisoner grimaced as Erik twisted his arm.

  “This is Feykir Bülow. He came uninvited to our village.” Hella jerked his thumb at the man. “Tell them your purpose here, Feykir.”

  Idunna slipped her arm around Eoghann. He gave her a brief smile before he returned his attention to the front of the room.

  Feykir hawked a glob of saliva on the stone floor. “I came because of Jarl Ofbradh Gjord's and loyalty to the king of Northumbria. There is only one Dane king in this land—Amlaíb Cuarán. It is an insult for Hella Ingvasson to call himself by the title.”

  Hella glared at Feykir. “No communication came from Ofbradh save an attempt on my life. If not for the quick actions of Eoghann Kentigern, my blood would lay on the snow. I've seen bloodshed enough in the past weeks. I have no wish to battle with Ofbradh Gjord. My father, Ingvar, came to Northumbria from Jutland in search of new lands and new peoples to conquer. Conquer he did across the wild lands. From Saxons to Welshmen to Picts, he let no enemy stand. As his son and heir to his kingdom, I will not allow a jealous jarl to stomp across what is rightfully mine. Any jarl who has quarrel with my leadership is invited to argue his point in my hall, but there will be no further violence in my village.”

  “May the false king rot under the blazing sun.” Feykir bared his teeth at Hella. “With blessings from Amlaíb, one of Ofbradh's men will cut you down. They will extinguish the line of Hella Ingvasson. You will see.”

  Erik pushed Feykir out of the hall while the man shouted threats.

  Idunna swallowed and dared a glance at Eoghann. His muscles were tense, coiled, hard as tree roots beneath her hand.

  “I foster no mercy for a would-be killer,” he muttered.

  If he'd borne a sword, he might have run Feykir through. Of course the other man deserved to die for spewing such nonsense about false kings and attempting murder. The crime had to be answered with a fitting punishment. Death already waited for Feykir. The goddess of the Underworld, Hel, had her arms wide open to receive him.

  Hella commanded the hall's attention again. “When my father sailed from Jutland, fewer than one hundred followed. Single warriors and families, brave settlers who desired expansion. Upon reaching the Angle lands, King Aethelstan granted permission for new settlements. 'Go and prosper. Bring glory to your homelands,' he said. Ingvar found the land promising. Even some of the people willing and we've tied our blood with the natives in Northumbria.” Hella took Ealasaid's hand. “Although Ingvar ruled with his fist, the jarls beneath him received fair treatment. He rewarded the men who served him well, he punished those who did not and elevated men to take their places. He was a hard man, cruel even, but he kept the peace here. When he declared himself king, no one rose to stop him. Even Olaf Sihtricson, who calls himself Amlaíb Cuarán, once removed as Northumbria's ruler, made no move to push Ingvar from his throne. So I ask, who would remove me?”

  The first person to raise his hand and protest Hella's position as king would die. Idunna bit the inside of her lip. Would anyone be so foolish?

  The only sounds in the hall were of people shifting uneasily.

  “Have you summoned us to put together an army? Will we band forces and push into Ofbradh's village to strip him of his earldom?” Falgierr, the jarl to their east, scratched his red beard. “I'm sorry for your troubles, Hella. They sound many, but it is winter and the marching will be hard going.”

  The current jarl of Freysteinn stepped closer to Hella's throne. Tyrfingr Crookednose clapped Falgierr on the shoulder. “Battle would be unwise. By the time we reach Ofbradh's lands, our warriors will be exhausted from travel. Food stores must be preserved for the villages, not given to supply men on a battlefield of snow and ice.”

  Nefr, oldest of the jarls, with a mostly gray beard and gnarled fingers that had perhaps been broken too many times, sneered. “Ofbradh knows you'll want revenge for what happened here. He meant to kill you, weaken your clan by removing leadership. In the harshest season of all, he'd strip your blood from Northumbria and take control. What is this talk of weary warriors arriving on his door stoop? Who here is weary?” He lifted his battle axe, threw his head back and roared. “Fuck Ofbradh and the diseased whores he calls warriors!”

  Shouts rang throughout the room. Nefr, though old, seemed ready to spill more blood on the snows.

  Hella waited for quiet. “I cannot claim what he did doesn't spike anger in my heart. Ofbradh must be removed from Ofan's halls. Preferably with his head removed from his shoulders as well, though reducing him to thrall status would suffice. Tyrfingr and Falgierr raise valid points. Winter is no time for fighting. We wish to wait it out with warm women in our beds, but I cannot let the threat stand. There must be action.”

  “What sort?” Falgierr put his hands on his hips. “Send a mercenary of your own to remove him?”

  “A fine idea.” Erik licked his finger and thumb, then ran them down the length of his drawn sword. “I volunteer to go.”

  If anyone could sneak into Ofbradh's village and remove the man from authority, Erik would be the one to send. He was easily one of the most dangerous men in the room.

  Eoghann broke from Idunna’s embrace. He moved forward through the crowd. “And me, Your Grace. If you require warriors to fight or merely a handful of men to see to the task, you have my service.”

  Hella nodded. “I am pleased to hear it.”

  Idunna grabbed Eoghann's uninjured arm. “You can't.”

  “My loyalty to the king demands I do if he wishes it.” An edge of frost laced through his voice.

  “Eoghann...”

  His gaze flew back to Hella and his chin went up.

  Foolish man. Idunna folded her arms.

  Hella held up his hands again. “There is no need for battle at this time. I would like a selection of men to ride with me to Ofan. We will commence reasonable discussion with Ofbradh about his actions. In the spirit of fellowship, we will return his bowman.”

  The threat didn't go unnoticed. By return, he meant the man's head alone. Idunna shivered.

  “The best strategy would be to take men from each settlement. A committee of warriors in good standing with your king who support his desire to remove Ofbradh's power. We shall depart in three days' time. Any man who wishes to march to Ofan, be here at dawn.”

  Ealasaid bowed her head, but remained in place as Hella reclaimed her hand. Her unhappiness over her husband's decision was clear.

  A similar disappointment spiraled through Idunna's chest. With a choice like the one Hella gave the men in the hall, Eoghann would no doubt join the warrio
rs. The promises he made her were unimportant if he put Hella's wishes first.

  She fled the hot, crowded room.

  “Idunna, wait.”

  Eoghann's voice didn't even give her pause. She loved the sound of her name on his lips, but for now, she couldn't bear it. Snow still piled ankle deep off the well-trudged paths. She fled across the dirty white expanse.

  Her flight was interrupted by Eoghann snaring her in his embrace.

  “Curse your long legs,” she spat.

  He whirled her around to face him. “Aye, long legs and veins full of Saxon blood too. What else do you wish to curse?”

  “Your stubborn pride.” She planted her hands against his stomach. “Let me go. If you wish to run off to Ofan on Hella's heels, you can find another woman to warm your bed at night.”

  “You're drawing unneeded attention.” He lowered his face close to hers. “We can discuss this inside near a warm fire. Be sensible. No other wives are protesting so hard against their husbands' involvement.”

  “Because many are widowed after the last fight. I've sacrificed one husband to bloody battle, nearly lost the second over a jealous jarl's games. Why should you willingly throw yourself into danger again? You're still injured. A trip overland won't be easy.”

  He blew out a breath that turned into a white plume. “Thank you for your concern for my health. I've suffered far worse injuries and harsher circumstances.”

  “Never with a wife waiting for you to return.” She pushed away from him. “You promised me a child.”

  For a moment, his mouth moved soundlessly. He regained his composure. “I did, and for all we know, I've made good on that promise. You must practice patience to earn your reward.”