But it wasn’t Varrick. “Don’t move, Chessa. I don’t want to hurt you.”
27
“KEREK,” SHE SAID through his fingers. “I’ve missed you.” He loosened his grip and slowly turned her to face him.
“Aye,” he said, looking down into her face, “I have missed you as well. You’re more beautiful than I’d remembered, Chessa, but you look tired. You’ve had to work too hard. You need more slaves, more families. The farmstead looks sturdy, I doubt outlaws will attack it. I’ve watched you now for three days, waiting to find you alone. There are always so many people about.”
“What do you want, Kerek? Why are you hiding like a thief? This is our new home. Cleve calls it Karelia. We’ve all worked very hard, aye, that’s true enough, but it’s worth the work, for it’s our home. Why didn’t you just come and greet us like a friend?”
He sighed. “I wanted to but I couldn’t. I don’t want this, Chessa, truly, but Turella believes it the only way. She sent me. Ragnor is now king. Olric died from a piece of meat one of his concubines hadn’t chewed well enough. He choked to death with many looking on. It is said that Ragnor tossed a bone in the air once his father had fallen face forward into his plate and said that he wanted his father’s concubines and now they would chew his food.
“He plans to attack Hawkfell Island and take Utta. You might believe this is his boy’s bragging, but I know it isn’t. He will do it. He won’t listen to Turella. He blames his mother for Isla disappearing, and since he doesn’t know where she is, he claims his mother killed her. Thus, he says he will settle for Utta after he’s taken Hawkfell Island. He was mistreated there, he yells to all, thrown into the water to drown, given no respect as the prince of the Danelaw. Now that he’s the king, he will show them. He will kill all of them or make them slaves. He does mean it, Chessa.
“You’ll not credit this but he truly mourns Isla. He talks about her breasts, surely, for he is a man, but he liked the way she treated him, so easily, and yet with the respect due him as the prince of the Danelaw. He liked her eye patch more than anything else, I think. He wanted to remove it to see what was underneath.”
“If he had he would have seen Cleve’s golden eye.”
“Neither Turella nor I told him this woman he desired above all others was really Cleve, come to York to rescue you. Thus, Princess, we are back to you. You are the only one he ever heeded. He fears you, aye, don’t interrupt me, you know it’s true. He would never admit to it, but he does fear you in a strange way that I don’t understand. Turella believes you would hold sway over him where she no longer can. You must come back to York with me. You must take him in hand. You must control him.”
“No, never. He would kill me, Kerek. I would never have control over him. It’s nonsense, all of it. Please, you must stop this now.”
“Turella doesn’t want to have to kill her own son, but to save the Danelaw, she might be forced into it. He thinks only of revenge against Rorik and taking Utta. I think he also plans to kill her. He won’t listen to the advisors about the increasing raids by the Saxons, about the lands they’re conquering, what we’re losing to them. He drinks and complains that the mead isn’t as good as Utta’s or Isla’s. All despair, not just I, not just Turella. A kingdom despairs, Princess. It is your duty to come back, to contain Ragnor, to master him.”
“Let her kill him. I care not. The Danelaw will fall eventually to the Saxons. All know it. It’s just a matter of time. Leave me be, Kerek.”
“Not if you are there, not if you and Turella join together and rule.”
She clasped his arms and tried to shake him. “Look at me, Kerek. I’m but a woman. I bathed in the bathing hut this morning. I just went to the privy. I’m wearing a cloth around my head. I was just kneading bread dough. See, there is flour on my hands. This is our farmstead, this is my life. I have nothing to do with the Danelaw, nothing to do with Turella. I’m not a warrior woman.”
“I will take you to Turella, Chessa. She has commanded me to. I have no choice.”
“I won’t go with you. If you try to force me, you will come to regret it, Kerek, I swear it to you.”
The threat, very real, didn’t have the effect on him she’d expected it to. He smiled hugely. “Ah, you see? I will have to guard you very carefully else you will kill me. It is that passion in you, Chessa, that promise that you’ll do exactly as you say, that utter resolution that is such a deep part of you, that makes you formidable, that will make Ragnor and the Saxons think hard before they attempt to go against you. You’re not stupid either, and you’re willing to act, regardless of the consequences to yourself. Why do you not accept this? Aye, you will come with me and Turella will be pleased and the Danelaw will survive longer.”
She wanted to hit him over the head to make him think clearly. But he was holding her and he was strong. She said again, “I won’t do it.”
Still, he appeared to hold to his patience. “Hear me out. Turella has thought of everything. She believes Cleve will forget you, he will come to believe you dead when he cannot find you. He will mourn you, but how long does a man mourn a woman, any woman? Not that long, Princess. Then he will find another and soon he will be happy again. You won’t have to worry that he will suffer long once you’ve gone. Turella wants you to wed with Ragnor. None will know that it isn’t a true wedding, save Turella, you, and I. She says you’ll agree to it to save Rorik and Mirana and Hawkfell Island. Remember, Chessa, Ragnor now has many warriors to command. They would follow him even though they wouldn’t want to. Loyalty runs deep in Vikings, you know that. He would take Hawkfell Island. He would destroy it. He enjoys destruction, you remember that, don’t you?”
“Aye, I remember, but it makes no difference. Come, Kerek, come back to the farmstead and speak to Cleve of this. We will plan something that will help you and Turella as well as Hawkfell Island. Please, come back with me.”
“Nay,” he said, and there was strength in that one small word and deep resolve, and she knew he wouldn’t change his mind. She drew a deep breath, smiled up at him, and said, “I’m pregnant with Cleve’s child.”
He stared down at her, then threw back his head and laughed. A cow mooed and a goat kicked over a wooden pail. The smell of hay was heavy in the air.
“Cleve laughed as well when I told him,” she said. “But this time it’s true, Kerek. I am pregnant. You can believe me. Cleve and I have been married since midsummer.”
His laughter stopped as suddenly as it began. He splayed his fingers over her belly, felt the slight thickening, and went pale. “No,” he said, “oh, no. We never considered this.” He ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. He clasped her arm and pulled her close, then stared toward the goat. He was deep in thought. “It doesn’t matter,” he said at last. “We will get you back to York as quickly as possible. We will simply tell everyone it’s Ragnor’s child, just like before. Turella will be pleased. She’ll be ecstatic. Don’t you remember? She wanted you to rule and Cleve’s child to rule after you? Aye, all will be well. This is better than either Turella or I expected. Once again you’ve not disappointed me, Princess.”
“I won’t leave Cleve or Kiri,” she said. “Even if you get me to York, I won’t do what you wish me to do, namely wed Ragnor and become Turella’s daughter. I won’t do it.”
Kerek smiled sadly at her. “You will, Chessa. You now have your babe to protect.”
Cleve tapped the leather ball with his foot, sending it bouncing to Kiri, who scooped it up and threw it to little Torik, who let it hit his chest and bounce off.
Kiri immediately scolded him until Inga, Askhold’s wife, bent down and put her face right up to Kiri’s. “He’s but a little bit of a boy, sweeting. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands yet. Be patient. It’s a female’s lot in this life—patience. You must begin to learn it now.”
Cleve laughed. “Aye,” he said, nodding, “it’s true. Listen to her, Kiri. Then you will tell your second papa, for sometimes she rush
es off without proper patience.”
“Aye, little one,” Igmal said, coming down on his haunches in front of Kiri, “you must be patient with boys just as Inga says. They take a goodly time to ripen, many take more than a goodly time.”
“All right,” Kiri said. She held out her hand to Torik. “I’ll take him to the loch and call out to Caldon. She’ll come when I call her.”
“Aye,” Igmal said, “but you take heed, little one. You’re the big sister here, so pay attention to little Torik. You come back soon.”
Kiri nodded, took Torik’s dirty hand, and pulled him from the longhouse.
Cleve just shook his head. It was like Malverne, like Hawkfell. Every man and woman attended every child when they were close, and all worked for the good of the farmstead. He felt an overwhelming sense of belonging that had been denied to him most of his life until he’d found Laren and Merrik and lived as one of them at Malverne. But this was different. This was his home. His and Chessa’s. He felt warm and secure. He wanted to hug Chessa, he realized, perhaps kiss her mouth, and lick her lower lip, something she liked very much.
“Inga, where is Chessa?”
She said, “She was kneading dough but an hour ago, then she just shook her head and said she had to go to the privy again. I haven’t seen her, Cleve. Let me ask.”
“Aye, and I’ll look outside.”
Chessa loved to visit the waterfall, to sit on the moss-covered rocks and lean back against the gnarled old sessile oak tree and dream, that’s what she’d tell him, dream about the babe she carried, if it would be a boy or a girl, and would the babe have his golden hair or her black hair? But if she’d been kneading bread, why would she simply leave the longhouse and go off?
It was at that moment that he felt a chill in the air, a raw current of air that ruffled his hair and made him shiver. Then the cold died and the air warmed, touching his flesh, making him wonder what had happened.
Everyone searched for her but she wasn’t to be found. Toward evening, Varrick came, alone, and he said to Cleve, “Chessa’s been taken. I don’t know by whom, but a man took her. I saw it all clearly.”
Cleve stared at his father. “It’s true we can’t find her, but who would take her? Who could come into the farmstead and take her?”
“I don’t know but he got in here and has been waiting to get her alone and take her.”
“How do you know this?”
Varrick pulled the burra from its sheath at his belt. “I felt it and then I saw it just a short time ago. I saw a large man, muscled and thick, a man with fierce eyes, and thick red hair threaded with gray, but I also saw pleasure in his eyes at the sight of Chessa. I saw them speak. They argued, but he was pleading with her. Then, finally, he stuck a gag in her mouth, bound her wrists, covered her with a blanket, and pulled her over his shoulder. He’s gone now, but I don’t know where. The images stopped. But he has her.”
“How old is this man?”
“He has my years, but he looks older, more rough-hewn, more lines on his face. Do you know this man, Cleve?”
“Aye,” Cleve said quietly, “I know him very well. His name is Kerek and he is Queen Turella’s man.”
“Turella?” Varrick said, looking off into the distance. “Turella? That’s odd, isn’t it?”
“Once I tell you the history of all this, you’ll believe it more than odd. Turella is the queen of the Danelaw. It’s put about that the king has kept her prisoner for many years, but it’s a false rumor. She rules. He is a fool, but she allows him to think that he is the important one. Something must have happened in York. Turella was convinced that Chessa should marry her son, Ragnor, that she could control him, that she could lead after Turella and secure the safety of the Danelaw. Ragnor is a selfish little toad with no more sense than Athol.”
Varrick said, his voice as stiff as the burra that he still held in his right hand, “Athol improves. Once you left Kinloch, he began to regain his balance. His broken leg mends.”
Cleve only grunted. “Do you wish to accompany me to get Chessa back?”
“Aye,” Varrick said slowly. “We’ll find Chessa.”
And Cleve thought, he still wants her, he’s just biding his time until the babe is born, then it will begin again. He prayed Argana was safe from Varrick, at least until Chessa birthed their babe. By all the gods, he hated it, but now he needed his father’s help. He watched Varrick gently slip the burra back into its leather sheath and fasten it to his belt. What would his father be without the burra?
Cleve, Varrick, and Igmal discussed which route Kerek had taken. By sea or traveling overland through Scotland into the Danelaw?
“By sea,” Cleve said. “Kerek would never risk Chessa’s life by traveling through Scotland. He doesn’t know the land or the dangers. Besides, it would be quicker to go by sea, if the weather holds steady.”
“It’s nearly winter,” Varrick said. “Storms in the North Sea come in the blink of an eye, without warning, and with deadly effect.”
Varrick had three warships, Cleve, one. In all, they had sixty men, most of them Pict warriors, so honed in their skills, so ruthless, that they would challenge the Christian’s hell itself. But they weren’t good sailors, and that worried Cleve. He wanted to go after Kerek and Chessa this very moment, but it was dark now and no man would venture onto the loch when it was dark. It would do him no good even to discuss it with the men. They would leave at first light. There was no choice. He thought and thought all evening, listening to Igmal, to his father, to the other men as well. It was just before Varrick left Karelia to return the short distance to Kinloch that he said, “I have a plan. Will you be willing to obey me, Father, in order to rescue Chessa?”
Varrick stared at his son. He saw strength and intelligence in him. He wasn’t surprised. How else would Cleve have survived for fifteen years as a slave? He was his son and he would rule Kinloch after him. But that wasn’t what made Varrick nod. It was Chessa. He had to have her back and who better to get her back than her husband? “Aye,” he said. “Tell me your plan.”
Cleve told him, working out flaws as he thought, then spoke. When he finished, Varrick slowly nodded. He pulled the burra from its sheath. It was pulsing with warmth, and it was so light he wondered if he released it, if it would rise to the roof of the longhouse. He gave it to Cleve and said, “What do you feel?”
Cleve looked at the heathen stick, for that’s how he thought of it now. He didn’t want to touch the damned thing, but he knew he had to. Slowly he took it from his father, nearly dropping it, so heavy it was. It was eerie and it made the hair stick up on the back of his neck. It shouldn’t be so heavy. He had to hold it with both hands. By all the gods, the thing was just a stick that was a foot long and with a dull point on the end, nothing more except for those strange markings, truly, there shouldn’t be anything more, but he remembered Chessa’s face when she had held it, her surprise, her fascination, and finally her fear. He gave it back to his father. “Take your burra and sheath it. I have no interest in it. It is heavy and cold. I accept that it has qualities that are not of this land, mayhap even of this earth. I don’t want to know its mysteries or its powers. Take it, Father, and force it not upon me again.”
Varrick accepted it from his son, balancing it on one finger even as he smiled at Cleve and knew that Cleve recognized that he had no power over it. Ah, but Chessa did have power. “We will leave then at first light. Are you certain this is what you want to do?”
Cleve nodded. “A large force would have no hope of rescuing her. No, we will do it another way.” Then he smiled, an evil smile, one that promised revenge and death.
“I don’t need a burra to make rain and turn the loch into boiling chaos or to bring that poor monster to me,” Cleve said. “I have a man’s brain and that is what will succeed.”
“Ah,” Varrick said as he turned away to slip into the night, “there is much that is uncertain. I agree to your idea. A small force of men, disguised as the guards at the palace
in York, aye, I believe that will work well enough, particularly since you know the palace. But if it doesn’t work, then you’ll see, Cleve, aye, you’ll see. Then you’ll need me. Never discount the power of magic.”
Heavy mist hung over the loch, touching the water, swirling around the single longboat. It was cold and damp on the water and Chessa’s teeth chattered despite the warm woolen cloak Kerek had wrapped around her. He had only six men, all rowing the small longboat with all their strength. They knew the monster lived in this loch that was said to be bottomless. They knew if one of them fell into the water, he would disappear forever, either pulled into the monster’s maw, or sucked into the oblivion that swirled ever downward in the loch. Each man was grunting hard now, not wanting to stop his frantic rowing, just praying to Thor that they’d reach Inverness and safety. They needed no encouragement, for fear of the unknown pushed them and gave them strength.
She sat in the bow of the longboat, trying to see through the thick gray mist, but unable to. There were no stars above, just this gray mist that gave off an eerie light. She said quietly, cupping her hand to her mouth, “Caldon, if you are there, come to me as you do to Varrick, as you do to Kiri. I don’t have his wizardry or that burra of his, nor do I have Kiri’s child’s belief, but I call you to me. Help me.”
“What are you saying, Chessa?”
She smiled at Kerek who was drawing on his oars as hard as the other six men, panting so hard she could barely understand his words. “I’m calling to the monster of the loch,” she said, raising her voice so all could hear her. “Cleve’s father calls her and she comes. He’s a sorcerer. Kiri calls the monster as well. We will see. If she comes, she will save me.”
The men turned to her and she saw such fear on their faces that she knew she had to push them. “Aye,” she said louder now, “just look at this mist. It isn’t natural, just look at the dull light it gives off. Look closely, soon the monster will appear. Caldon is larger than a warship, a sea serpent that’s lived in this loch for hundreds of years, mayhap thousands, mayhap since before time began. It’s said the Romans never came close to this loch because they feared the monster. Fishermen never come to the middle of the loch and never set their nets in the water after the sun sets. They know they will die and their bodies never again be found. Listen. Is that Caldon coming?”
Lord of Falcon Ridge Page 32