It was Merrik who blurted out, “Have you had your monthly flow since he raped you the last time?”
Mirana and Laren each grabbed one of Merrik’s arms and shook him. “Hush,” Laren said. “You’re embarrassing Chessa. This should be done in private.”
“Oh, I will answer him,” Chessa said, squaring her shoulders, looking directly at Cleve. “I haven’t had my monthly flow.”
Without warning, Cleve threw himself on Ragnor. He lifted him off his feet, pounded his fists into his mouth, then into his belly, and threw him a good six feet across the longhouse. “You damnable bastard, raping a lady, a princess. By all the gods, I don’t care who you are, I’ll kill you.” And he was on him again, leaping to land on him, straddling him, pounding his fist in his face, slamming his head against the packed earthen floor, then jerking him to his feet, easily avoiding any blows Ragnor attempted.
“I cannot allow this,” Kerek said, and ran to the two men.
“Wait,” Rorik yelled, seeing Kerek draw a knife. Four men dragged Cleve off Ragnor, whose lip was bleeding in two places and would have both eyes black within hours. He was sweating and shaking, obviously in pain. Rorik prayed Cleve hadn’t hurt any of his innards. What was he to do?
Rorik was smart enough not to release Cleve, who was panting, staring at Ragnor, who was being tended by Kerek. Ragnor’s other men were staying back.
Merrik said very quietly, “Cleve, stop it. Gain control of yourself. We will solve this problem. You cannot kill the little bastard. You cannot. None of us can, despite the provocation.”
“Aye, I can and I will. Didn’t you hear? He raped her, he forced her, and hurt her. By all the gods, she hasn’t had her monthly flow.”
All the men’s hands tightened on him.
Chessa didn’t want Ragnor’s blood on Cleve’s hands. “I thank you for defending my honor, Cleve. But it isn’t necessary.”
Cleve turned on her. His face was still flushed from rage and exertion. He was still panting. His knuckles were bleeding from the blows he’d landed on Ragnor’s face. He actually shook his fist at her. “Listen to me, Chessa. You will begin your monthly flow and you will begin it now. You will marry William. Do you understand me?”
“Since you’re yelling at me, it’s difficult not to understand you.”
“Don’t you twist my nose, Chessa. You will marry William. You must marry William.”
“But Ragnor said that I can’t since I’m no longer a virgin. Is it true that a man with pride and honor and power wouldn’t want me just because I was raped? Aren’t I still the same, still Chessa? Do I speak differently, act differently just because Ragnor raped me so many times?”
Cleve lurched away, taking the men by surprise. In the next instant he’d reached Ragnor and his hands were about his throat. He was pulled off again, cursing, wild as a berserker. Merrik had never seen Cleve so lost to control. He pulled back his fist and slammed it into his friend’s jaw.
“He must sleep on this,” he said, rubbing his hand. “His rage was too great for him to see reason. When he awakes, we will speak to him.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Kerek said. “I didn’t want to kill him to protect Ragnor.”
“What did you say, Kerek? That you would kill to protect me? It’s wise for you to become respectful to me again. Many of these men are vicious. I just might need you to protect me.”
Kerek closed his eyes for an instant. Chessa said quietly, “You see him as he really is, Kerek. I won’t wed him and you can’t force me to. No one can.”
“I must try, Princess,” Kerek said, sighed, and turned back to Ragnor, who was drinking a wooden mug of mead and looking toward Utta like a slavering goat.
Cleve woke up on a groan. He felt fire in his jaw. He opened his eyes to see Chessa over him, holding his head in her lap, lightly touching a wet cloth to his chin. He felt the warmth of her, her softness. He immediately pulled away from her and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the box bed. “Where are we?”
“In Rorik’s and Mirana’s bedchamber. I bandaged your hands. You scored your knuckles.”
Cleve remembered what he’d done. He closed his eyes and cursed.
“Merrik said he had to strike you. He said he’d never seen you so angry. He said—”
“Be quiet. I must think.”
She folded her hands in her lap and leaned back against the thick wooden planks that separated this bedchamber from the next one. She was content to wait. He’d tried to kill Ragnor. His rage had been magnificent. She began to fidget. “Have you finished thinking, Cleve?”
“Be quiet,” he said again, turning even more away from her. “My jaw hurts.”
“It took four men to pull you off Ragnor and you still fought them. Do you remember now if you come from a race of warriors?”
“Aye, I do, and don’t sound so damned proud of me,” he said, turning now to look at her. “As if I’m your child and you’re pleased I went mad as a berserker. I don’t know what happened to me. It won’t happen again. I won’t let it. Damn you, you made me do it.”
“I know,” she said, a tiny smile curving up the corners of her mouth. “I’m very powerful, mayhap even a witch. Every man who comes near me does exactly what I wish him to do. You were no exception, though I thought you might be and—”
“Be quiet. You can taunt and mock Ragnor. You won’t do it to me. Be quiet.”
“All right. Ah, here’s Kiri. Come here, little sweeting. You can see that your papa’s just fine.”
Kirk looked frightened and it smote Cleve. He quickly drew her up onto his lap and pulled her against his chest. “I’m sorry that I was so unlike myself, Kiri.”
“I thought you were splendid, Papa.”
Women, he thought, rubbing his bruised hands together. Were they never too young to be perverse?
“I’m just sorry that Uncle Merrik had to hit you. He’s very sorry. He told me so. Laren said she wished Oleg had been here, that he’d have been so pleased to see you boil over like one of her stews in the cooking pot.”
“I don’t believe any of this,” Cleve said, setting Kiri on the floor. “Go play with your cousins. I’m all right. Go, Kiri.”
“They’re not really my cousins.
“It’s close enough. Go.”
She skipped away from the box bed, but at the door, she turned and said, “Why did you get so angry, Papa? Why do you care who she marries? She’s not even beautiful like you are, like she says I am.”
“Go,” Cleve said, and watched her dash out of the bedchamber. He said, turning to Chessa, “I mean it. You must start your monthly flow.”
She laughed. “But I’m still not a virgin.”
“William is thirty, more seasoned, more mature. He will understand. After all, a girl is only a virgin once. A man who demands a virgin is a fool. William isn’t a fool.”
She said, “If he, a future ruler, doesn’t demand that his wife be a virgin, then he must really be seasoned.”
“Damnation, he isn’t old. He is but five years older than I am. He is wise because he was married to the same woman for ten years before she died. He adored her. He was faithful to her. He isn’t a fool because he’s never been a fool. You will be able to trust him.”
“Perhaps this William isn’t a fool, but you are, Cleve. Do tell me, why did you attack Ragnor?”
He looked at her as if he wanted to strangle her.
9
“IDEMAND THAT you kill this man, this former slave, Cleve who isn’t anybody, he just pretends to be important. He must die. He dared to strike Ragnor of York, son of Olric.”
Rorik looked at Ragnor’s black right eye, the swollen bruised jaw, the reddened flesh of his throat. “Why do you speak of yourself as if you were another?”
“I am of royal blood. Royalty speak like that when they wish others to obey them immediately, just as I’m ordering you, Rorik. Kill him.”
“If everyone was dead that you ordered to be killed, the earth would have n
o more people on it. You may forget your demands. However, I would think it wise were I to give Cleve your share of mead. It is rotting what little brain you have left.”
“I am Lord Ragnor.”
“Your ship is ready to leave for York,” Rorik said, knowing he didn’t have too much longer to keep himself from attacking Ragnor just as Cleve had done. “I hope you have sufficient men left to row you back.”
“I have more men than I need.”
“That’s good, because I think some of the men won’t go back with you.”
Ragnor just stared at him, then yelled, “Utta, bring me some mead. Kerek, come here and tell me that Rorik lies.”
Rorik just shook his head and quickly took himself out of the longhouse. He patted Entti’s shoulder as he passed by the bread trough. He’d rarely in his life seen so much dough. She was singing softly while she kneaded the dough. It was a relief that Ragnor was leaving on the morrow. Rorik feared that the island’s stores of barley, rye, and wheat would be severely depleted. They were eating more and more fish. Rorik wanted to go hunting on the mainland, beyond the salt marsh, for pheasant and grouse, perhaps even a wild boar, but he didn’t dare leave the island for fear of what Ragnor would do. Nor did he want to make Ragnor Merrik’s responsibility. Both his men and Merrik’s men were staying close, keeping a tight watch on Ragnor and his men. But his belly was growing tired of fish, even Utta’s roasted herring and baked sea bass, even wrapped in oiled and spiced tartar leaves.
He greeted his brother by the palisade gates. “Where are you going, Merrik?”
“Hunting. Aslak and Hafter are going with me as well as another dozen or so men. I knew you wouldn’t wish to leave what with that fool Ragnor about causing trouble. Also I’m leaving a goodly number of men here. We’re going in relays. I should have begun this yesterday. By Thor’s toes, my belly is tired of fish, even though it is wondrously prepared.”
Rorik had to smile at how much alike he and his brother were. He said, “It’s a good idea, one I was just mulling over. I will allow my men to do the same. By the gods, my muscles are turning soft. Where is Cleve?”
“If Chessa has her way then he’s probably with her.”
Rorik grunted. “Has she obeyed him yet? Has she begun her monthly flow?”
“I don’t know. She’s a stubborn woman.”
In the stand of pine trees at the top of Hawkfell Island, Cleve said, “Does your belly cramp?”
“Why should my belly cramp? Utta makes the best porridge I’ve ever eaten. Even the fish is excellent but I’m getting very tired of it.”
“Your monthly flow, Chessa. Don’t you have belly cramping when you begin your monthly flow?”
“Cleve, perhaps you’d best send a message back to Duke Rollo and this William. Tell them that I’m not at all a nice fresh young princess. Tell them that I am still nice and young but I’m no longer fresh. Tell William that if he weds me I will be able to compare him to another man. I understand men don’t like that and so that is why they demand that their wives come to them untouched by other manly hands and other manly parts.”
“Men are not so paltry.”
“It is not my experience. Ragnor seemed wonderful to me at first, then he proved his falseness. You may well ask how I could have been so blind, seeing what an ass he is now. Well, I was.
“Then my father decides I’m to marry a man I’ve never seen, a man already long married, a man you say is seasoned and mature, and then the first man kidnaps me and rapes me, many times. And now you want to send me to the mature man. Mature makes him sound dreadfully tiring, Cleve. Haven’t I suffered enough?” She held her face in her hands and sobbed.
“I’m sorry, Chessa,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “By the gods I feel like a miserable sot.” His arms came around her back, squeezing her against him. He felt her arms go around his back as well. He felt her breasts against his chest. He felt the warmth of her breath against his throat. He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “I’m so sorry. It wasn’t your fault. I wish I’d killed Ragnor, the rotten little bastard, despite who he is. Did he hurt you badly?”
She just nodded against his shoulder, saying nothing, the sobs still coming.
“Do you think he hurt you internally?”
“I don’t know. He kicked me hard in the ribs. He told me he liked to see lying me at his feet. He liked to see my pain. Then he fell down on top of me.”
He kissed her again, this incredible girl who believed him more beautiful than the gods, this adorable girl who was a princess and thus far above him. She’d been dreadfully hurt and now all he could do was see that she was hurt even more.
“You must marry William.” He kissed her ear. “Oh, damn, Chessa, you’re a princess. You must marry William, there’s no choice, for either of us.”
“I will consider it if you will send a message to him telling him what has happened.”
“It would take days for the message to reach him and days more for a messenger to return here to Hawkfell.”
“You would prefer then to take me there to face him, for me to tell him what happened, then perhaps see the disdain on his face that said clearly what he thought of me? You aren’t a very kind man, Cleve.”
“Nay, I didn’t mean that,” he said, and squeezed her harder. He kissed her temple, her flesh soft and warm from the sun overhead. “Chessa, you’re promised to him. Your father and Duke Rollo agreed.”
“Everything has changed,” she said, and that, at least, was the truth. She kissed his throat. She raised her hand and lightly touched her fingertips to his mouth. “Cleve, everything has changed,” she said again. “Do you disdain me? Do you hate me now because I’ve been used by Ragnor?”
“By all the gods, no, you stupid woman. You’re you and that would never change.”
“Then why can we not simply—”
“You said you were blind at first with Ragnor. Look at my face, damn you. Look!”
She looked up, staring at him straightly. She cocked her head to one side in question. “I don’t understand you. You’re beautiful. I would never tire of looking at you in my life.”
He couldn’t believe her. She was lying. “Damn you, don’t you see the scar? Are you playing me for a fool? Do you enjoy mocking me? I’m hideous, ugly as a monster, uglier than the dragon stem on Merrik’s warship. Look, Chessa.”
She smiled at him, drew his head down between both her palms and kissed the scar, her mouth soft, too soft, and it touched him so deeply he didn’t know whether to shove her away or kiss her until neither of them could breathe. Then she said, “You attacked Ragnor for what he did to me. If you would show me the man who did this to you I would attack him and kill him.”
He stared down at her, stunned and disbelieving. He said slowly, “It wasn’t a man.”
“A woman struck you?”
“Aye.”
“At least that was all she did. You’re alive and you’re here with me.”
“Not for very long. Once you begin your monthly flow, we must return to Rouen.”
She was silent then, still held in his arms. The sun was bright and warm overhead. Oystercatchers flew over the fallow barley field. Just behind them flew a glittering trio of dunlin. Sea gulls squawked loudly. Curlews spun wildly through the pine and fir trees behind them.
“You sound as if perhaps you don’t want me to wed with William. You are holding me. Perhaps you want to wed me yourself.”
“No,” he said, “I don’t.” He leaned down and this time she raised her face and he kissed her mouth. By the gods, she was soft, giving. He wanted to devour her, but he held himself back. He shouldn’t be touching her, much less kissing her as if she belonged to him. “No,” he said, and broke away from her. “No, I don’t want you. I will never want another woman for the rest of my life, that is, I would want a woman to ease me, but not a wife, not a mate. I have Kiri and I will see that she grows strong. I will see that she has no guile, no cunning, to bring a man low.”
>
She stood there panting slightly, her breasts heaving, and his eyes were drawn there, and he could but stare at her breasts, and he wanted desperately to feel her breasts in his hands, to taste her with his mouth. “Go away, Chessa. No, you won’t, will you? Very well, I’ll go. I don’t know what game you’re playing. All women play games to make men flounder about like the sea bass I caught yesterday. It doesn’t matter. You will begin your monthly flow and I will be safe from you. You will be safe from yourself. You will see me as I really am. You will recognize my ugliness. You will wed William.”
Without another word, he turned on his heel and nearly ran back toward the longhouse.
“He does want me,” she said to a pinwheel performing intricate turns above her head. “Aye, he does want me.”
Mirana said to Chessa, “Kiri has asked me how you can be a princess since you don’t have beautiful golden hair and bright blue eyes like she does. She doesn’t think you look like a real princess at all. Nor,” Mirana added, “does she like you looking at her papa the way you do.”
“Did you tell her I can’t seem to help myself? Cleve is a stubborn man. He cares for me, I know it, he knows it, but he won’t let me close. Some of his reasons are murky, others quite stupid, even others utterly false. Why can’t you simply tell him that I’m as little a real princess as Sira is a queen, bred for the position?”
“I cannot do that. Surely you see why, Chessa. As for Cleve’s reasons, murky or not, stupid or not, nothing will sway him. As for Kiri, I only told her that you admired her father. I told her that if a princess looked at her father in an admiring way, why then, her father was of unquestioned nobility.”
“Is that true?”
“I don’t yet know the full truth, at least those truths from Cleve’s dreams. He remembers that his father was the Lord of Kinloch, on the western side of Loch Ness, in Scotland, near the trading town of Inverness. He remembers his stepfather, the man’s coldness and cruelty toward his mother. Does he remember correctly? Are they truly as things were? When you are, well, settled, Merrik and Laren are going with him to Scotland, back to Cleve’s home, to set things aright if there is anyone left to set things aright with.”
Lord of Falcon Ridge Page 10