“This isn’t the end of it, Kerek,” she said quietly. “I won’t wed that ass.”
“As you will, Princess,” and she knew he didn’t begin to believe her. He was just humoring her. He had ultimate faith in Turella. Truth be told, so did she.
“Did you and Turella lie to the king about the babe or doesn’t he care that I carry another man’s child?”
Kerek, curse him, just shrugged.
What was she going to do? Whatever it was, she must move quickly. Three days. She found herself wondering if any prince or any king would care if she’d been impregnated by a goat.
She pushed herself more deeply into the woolen blankets. Suddenly she heard a sound. Was it Ingurd to see if she wished anything more? She didn’t move when she heard the door quietly open. Was it one of the guards? Surely the queen hadn’t dismissed them. Was the queen ready to force her hand? It was too soon for Turella to act, surely.
There was a sliver of light, then it quickly disappeared as the door closed again. She pulled the knife from its wrapping beneath her pillow. She rather hoped it was Ragnor, here to rape her. Just let the little worm try.
She held the knife easily. Her fingers were steady and dry. She was ready.
“Did you begin your monthly flow?”
The words were softly spoken, mocking, and she knew it was the woman Isla.
“No, and I don’t intend to either, not that it makes any difference to anybody. I’ll just wager that even William of Normandy wouldn’t care either. I thought men wanted purity in their brides. It makes no sense.”
“Men are strange creatures,” Isla agreed and sat beside her on the edge of the box bed. “I wish I could see you, but I won’t light the lamp, it’s too dangerous. The guards outside are dozing, but not fully asleep yet.”
“What do you want?”
“First I want to know if it’s true. Are you pregnant with another man’s child?”
“Is that what Ragnor bleated to you and Baric after I left you?”
“Aye. He is furious. He said you tried this trick before and thus he didn’t want to believe you this time. He said though that Kerek was certain and thus it had to be true. Who is the man this time?”
Chessa sighed. Certainly this was strange to be speaking in her dark chamber to a woman she’d met only today, a woman who called her a bitch, a woman who was obviously teasing Ragnor, for what reason she couldn’t imagine. “His name is Cleve. He is a beautiful man, a brave warrior, the only man I want to have for the rest of my life. He’s sometimes very difficult, but there is a richness deep inside him. He doesn’t yet realize he needs me, but he will. He believed he loved before and the woman betrayed him. I would never betray him and he will come to believe me. He believes himself ugly, hideous even, but he’s blind to himself. I will make him laugh until I die. I don’t know where he is now, but I pray he’s safe.”
“He bedded you?”
“No, but I told everyone it was he.”
“Your reasoning is pathetic. Listen, you little fool, who do you think I am?”
“You’re a painted harlot Baric found in the market. I hope you will seduce Ragnor so he’ll keep away from me, although I can’t imagine why you’d want to. He’s even begun trying to woo me now, doubtless on orders from his mother. Perhaps even orders from his father as well. I never know what Olric will do. When you and Baric came in today, he’d just sung me a romantic song and was demanding praise. He is such a worm.”
“Why wouldn’t you want to be the future queen of the Danelaw? You’re a princess, after all, despite the fact you’re really not, but it doesn’t matter. I paint my face and make mead, but you, Princess, you can do anything you please, have any man, any prince you wish. Why are you so stubborn about this Cleve?”
“I love him. Perhaps someday he will come to believe it. But that can’t be important to you, Isla. What I please is to leave this place. The king is a strange man, his moods dance about, the queen has been a prisoner for twenty-one years but she isn’t a prisoner at all, she rules here, and poor Ragnor is a pawn between the two of them. Now the king thinks I can be forced to marry Ragnor. Actually, he knows that the queen will see to it. All he has to do is belch and drink and fondle his concubines, who are thankfully mute, else they’d be screaming when he touched them. I don’t suppose you would lend me your paint pot so I can look like a harlot and leave here?”
Isla laughed. “Perhaps if you paid me enough silver I would try to help you, but you haven’t even a valuable armlet, do you? No, I didn’t think so. Tell me about Kerek. What is his position here?”
“He worships the queen. He would do anything she asked of him. The king trusts him as well. That’s why I’m here. Kerek got this idea that I, a simple woman, was the one to save the Danelaw from the Saxons. He’s set on this course. It’s utterly ridiculous.”
“I agree. As you said, you’re just a simple woman. Mayhap you’re even more of a simple woman than anyone even realizes.”
“Aye, I said that, but I didn’t think you’d agree with me so eagerly. I’m not all that simple. I’m not less than simple. Perhaps Kerek is right. Perhaps I am some sort of warrior goddess. I could ride in a chariot as that British queen probably did and men should shout how wonderful I was and they would follow me and—”
“Be quiet. I’m going to puke. You’re just a girl, nothing more. I doubt you could save a hair comb. Men follow you? It’s beyond ridiculous.”
She punched Isla in the arm.
Isla grunted. “What do you plan to do? Nay, don’t hit me again. It’s an innocent question.”
Chessa sighed. She was lying here in the dark speaking to this painted harlot, and yet, she had no one else to speak to. She said slowly, “I suppose I will remain pregnant for a while, until I can escape. My problem is I don’t know where to escape to. Hawkfell Island is a long way away from York. Even if I had silver to pay you, where would you take me? The queen thought I should be sent to the Saxon court and cause chaos there.”
Isla laughed. “I should go console the queen. She’s quite right. Wherever you go you bring confusion and trouble. Men grind their teeth at your mischief. They want to strangle you because you dance around them, making up one tale after another, leaving them confused and crazed. You refuse to consider anyone else save yourself. You don’t honor your father’s wishes. You take it into your silly head that you want only one certain man. You say he has a richness deep inside him. You don’t even know what that means. You don’t even know this man, not really. You’re just like Kerzog who won’t let go of a stick. You just dig in your heels and hang on.
“Another thing. This man Cleve is ugly. He’s not blind to himself. And what does that mean? That sounds like that deep richness nonsense. The scar on his face makes him look like a devil. It’s true, it’s you who are the blind one. You refuse to see him clearly because you’re so damned obstinate. He has nothing. He doesn’t want a wife because he should have had one once before, but by all the gods, that was a disaster. He doesn’t need more disasters in his life. He doesn’t need a woman who’s very nature creates havoc.”
“How dare you, Isla.” She came up on her elbows, ready to battle. “Now listen here, I don’t create havoc. I may try to change things, but at least I don’t wear enough paint on my face so my head is bowed to my knees. Wait a minute, how do you know all this? How do you know of Kerzog? How do you know about Cleve? Oh, goodness, who are you really?”
“Why, who do you think, Princess? I’m the man who seduced you and impregnated you.”
“Cleve?”
“Aye.”
“Oh, I prayed you’d come,” she said, and threw herself against him. “You’re here, at last. I’ve missed you, Cleve.” She hugged him tighter. He sucked in his breath in pain.
“What’s wrong? Oh, I’m sorry.”
“You stuck your knife into me. I’m here to save you and you stab me. Keep away from me.”
“I didn’t mean to.” She was frantically trying
to find where she’d stuck him, but he slapped her hands away.
“No, don’t touch me, you might smear the paint on my face. Put that damned knife down and lie back.”
She slipped the knife beneath her pillow again. Her heart was pounding. She’d never been so happy, so utterly relieved. Everything would be all right now, she knew it. Cleve was here. Surely what she’d said had to touch him. At least he should think about her words, shouldn’t he? She said, “You don’t mind that I’m to bear your child, do you?”
“Not at all. If my seed can be of use to you, why then, drain me of as much as you like.”
“I had to do something. Tonight the king announced that I’m to wed Ragnor.”
“I know. I was there. I was relieved when you showed the good sense to keep your mouth shut when he did make his announcement.”
“I nearly didn’t, but Kerek told me to.”
“And if Kerek hadn’t stopped you, what would you have announced?”
“That the king had lied, perhaps. That it wasn’t Ragnor’s child I carried. I probably would have gone on about their lack of pride to wed me to Ragnor when it wasn’t even his child I was carrying. Perhaps insults about their collective manhoods, that they were shriveled and rotted. Something like that.”
“You see, you bring chaos and confusion. Have you any idea what would have happened had you done that?”
“Perhaps the king would have relented since it was all out in the open? That everyone would know what the truth was? Ragnor would choke on the ale you gave him and die?”
He gave her a look of disgust she couldn’t see. “Don’t be a fool. The gods know what would have happened. It curdles my blood to even think about it. Now, shall I tell you why you’re to wed Ragnor in three days? Well before this pregnant belly of yours begins to swell?”
“You’ve been here less than a day. How do you know so much? I’ve been here forever and listened and cajoled and I would have bribed everyone if I’d had any silver. I don’t know anything.”
He smiled in the darkness, pleased that she couldn’t see his face. He felt the paste cracking around his mouth. “The queen decided that the babe you bear will be a better future ruler if he’s not from Ragnor’s seed. I understand she questioned Kerek about what sort of man I am. She didn’t care in the least that you, not a real princess at all, and I, a former slave who has no future as of yet, would give the Danelaw its future ruler.”
“That’s brilliant. She’s a ruthless woman.”
“Aye, and a very clever one. I’ve heard your threats about how you will yell the roof down if they try to make you wed Ragnor. The queen isn’t stupid. She wants this marriage. She plans something. I just don’t know what it is yet.”
“I’ll find out. I’ll use guile with her and she’ll confess what she plans to me.”
He laughed, he couldn’t help himself.
“By all the gods, Cleve, you’re here. That means Kiri is starving herself. Did you bring her? Is she on the Silver Raven? Is she safe?”
“She is at Hawkfell Island. She is eating because I swore to her that I would bring you back. She’s not even counting sticks, at least she’d better not be.”
She very slowly eased herself against his chest, only to feel what seemed to be very big breasts. He just laughed and pushed her away. “Don’t ruin my paint. This face is desired by Ragnor. Don’t hug me again. My breasts aren’t all that stable at the moment.”
“After you rescue me, Cleve, will you make me pregnant? I mean really pregnant? I’m very close to getting all the fathers of this babe confused.”
“I suppose I must, otherwise only the gods know what poor fellow you will choose as your next victim.” He paused a moment, and she wished she could see his face. She felt his fingers lightly touching her mouth, her jaw, her nose. She wanted to kiss him, but she didn’t want to smear his face. She felt his warm breath against her ear as he said, “I’m pleased that Ragnor didn’t force you. A woman who is forced by a man isn’t usually eager to have another man bed her, even if she thinks she wants him.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’ve seen it. Forget not that I was a slave for fifteen years. I saw everything.”
“Ah, but everything is different now. You have me.”
“It appears so,” he said, and laughed. He patted her cheek and rose from the box bed. “Sleep and don’t try to come up with your own plans. I don’t want to have to follow after you and put out fires. I will decide what it is we will do. Obey me in this, Chessa, or it will not go well for you.”
Everyone treated her with great deference, including the guard that trailed after her everywhere she went. In two days she was to marry Ragnor. She’d seen Isla flirting with Ragnor, giving him mead, but he’d made no move to see her.
Cleve had told her to leave everything to him. Why? She wasn’t stupid or helpless. An entire day had passed and nothing had happened. She had to do something. If she managed to save herself, why then, she could save Cleve too. She was whistling when she was shown to the queen’s garden.
It was just beyond dusk, at that shadowy moment before darkness came. The beautiful garden, with its brilliant flowers, didn’t look as wildly glorious as it did in full sun. There were shadows in the corners. Everything seemed dull and lackluster, as if every flower, every shrub, every tree, would crumble into dust the moment darkness fell.
Was she being fanciful because she was pregnant? She laughed as she remembered Sira would defend her tantrums by claiming the babes were making her fanciful.
The queen said, “Ah, you’re here at last, Chessa. Do come and sit down and let’s enjoy the quiet of the evening. Then you will dine with the king and Ragnor, as I think I’ll do this evening as well. One of my people told me that the king is displeased with the concubine who stands at his left hand. It appears he forgot to have her taste something for him and thus could have been poisoned. It is her fault, of course. Aye, I’ll go dine with the king and the court and see what’s happening. I don’t want him to hurt her. Now, sit down, my child.”
“I’m not a child and I’m not yours.”
“You soon will be mine, but enough. You will learn that life doesn’t always give you what you want it to. Just look at me.”
“I’m looking, lady, and I see a woman who has everything she could possibly want. I see a lady who rules and meddles to her heart’s content. I see a lady who dislikes her only son so much she wants to wed him to a woman who loathes him, a woman who would never let him touch her, a woman pregnant with another man’s child. I think I prefer my stepmother, who is truly rotten. At least she’s honest in her rottenness.”
Turella felt a stab of anger. No, she thought, the girl was just trying to enrage her. And she was succeeding because what she said was true. She sighed. “Here is some lemon ale that is very good. Would you like some?” As she spoke, Turella calmly poured herself a goblet of the ale and drank it down.
“Aye,” Chessa said after Turella had swallowed all of it.
They sat together on the stone bench as the shadows deepened, Turella telling her about the Bulgar and the immense stretches of barren land that lay between settlements, the trade routes that were jealously guarded and fought over, the Swedes who controlled Kiev and were even now extending their rule to the south and to the east.
Chessa listened to her words. They were becoming more distant and were so very soft. Merrik had brought Laren, her little brother, Taby, and Cleve out of Kiev. She would like to visit such a strange city. It sounded magical. She listened to the gentle buzzing of insects that flew near but never touched her. She began to smell the hyacinths and Turella’s magic roses though she wasn’t close to them. The flowers didn’t die when it was night. That relieved her. When the darkness fell, she felt the softness of the night, the sweetness of the air around her. She was smiling when she slowly fell off the bench onto the ground.
Turella rose and looked down at her. “When I was your age, Princess, I would have fa
llen into the same trap. You will think yourself stupid to have been duped, but you aren’t. I wouldn’t ever wait to the last minute to take action. If I had, you would have never touched that lemon ale even after watching me drink it.”
The queen called to her guards. One of them wrapped Chessa in a warm blanket and hefted her over his shoulder.
“Follow me,” the queen said.
The following afternoon, Baric, Isla at his side, gave Ragnor another lesson on a new harp and taught him another love poem.
“I don’t want to learn another love poem,” Ragnor said. “I’m to marry the princess tomorrow. Thus I don’t have to lie to her, quoting any more of your silly poems. Besides, I won’t see her again until the moment she’s to agree to be my wife. My mother has her hidden away so she won’t try to do something stupid. I hope my mother forgets where she hid the princess, but I know she won’t. She never forgets anything.”
Isla said easily, looking at Ragnor as if he were a succulent roasted boar, “Ah, my lord, it’s a pity that you must marry such a bitch. She has no stature, no gratitude for what you offer her. She has no appreciation for your finer qualities. I still don’t understand why she must be forced. It makes no sense.”
Baric strummed on the harp, humming, looking down at his shoes.
Ragnor shrugged. “I don’t understand it either. She claims she loves another man, but how could that be possible? She’s seen me, surely that is enough. Once she liked me, but then she changed, for no reason I can think of other than that I tried to seduce her and she didn’t want to succumb. She’s stubborn.” He sighed deeply. “I think she’s just like my mother.”
“The queen appears properly cowed by the king. You will deal with the princess in just the same way.”
“Ha,” Ragnor said. “You don’t know my mother, Isla. You don’t understand.”
“Would you like some of my mead, my lord? I thought of you whilst I brewed it. It tastes rich and dark, just like a woman should taste. Just like I taste. That bitch probably tastes like goat weed.”
Lord of Falcon Ridge Page 18