The Tarnished Lady

by Sandra Hill

  "I thought I told Bertha why... hmmm... mayhap in my haste I neglected to mention..." His words trailed off as he stroked his upper lip thoughtfully, deciding he might have neglected to inform Bertha exactly why he needed to rush to Jorvik. "Still, Eadyth should not have left Ravenshire against my orders."

  "For a certainty," Wilfrid agreed, slamming his goblet down on the table for emphasis.

  "Will ye lock her in yer bedchamber again with naught but a harem veil ter cover her bare arse?" Bertha asked hopefully behind him.

  Eirik almost jumped from his seat with surprise at his cook's shrewish voice. "God's Bones, Bertha! Must you creep up behind a man without warning?"

  "Ye mean like yer vicious wife with the heavy hand? Do you see what she did to me? Do you?"

  Bertha's head was covered by a huge swath of linen, large enough to bandage an elephant Eirik had seen once in his travels.

  "Gawd! All I did was laugh at her garment!" Bertha complained.

  Eirik gaped at his outspoken cook. "Bertha, 'tis not your place to mock your lady."

  "Well, you would think the lady would appreciate some helpful advice. Jist 'cause I remarked on her breasts not wobblin', as a woman's should, even in that scandalous garment, was no reason to split me head open."

  "Wobbling?" Eirik and Wilfrid both sputtered out.

  "Yea, wobblin'. Men like a little jiggle in the tits, you know," she informed them sagely. "And I have told yer lady wife so on more than one occasion."

  Wilfrid rolled his eyes at Eirik, and they both grinned.

  After listening to more of Bertha's complaints, Eirik dispatched her to start cleaning his bedchamber. "And stop repeating those tales about Eadyth's attire. She will not be pleased."

  "Hah! Everyone already knows, anyway. We are all jist waitin' fer yer next move. I think puttin' her in a cage out in the bailey might be a nice touch."

  Eirik ignored Bertha's unwanted advice and turned back to Wilfrid, more serious now. "I cannot leave Emma. She starts screaming at the least little start as memory of her mother's death comes back in bits and spurts. Take twenty of my men and go after Eadyth."

  "Now?"

  "Yea, I want her back here tonight, even if you have to tie her to a horse to accomplish the deed."

  Wilfrid stood reluctantly, obviously not looking forward to the task. "What will I tell her?"

  "Tell her naught but that her husband demands her return. I can do my own explaining."

  "I will no doubt have to gag her," Wilfrid muttered as he walked off to do his master's bidding. "And she will have my hide, in one way or another, in her own good time. No doubt set me to cleaning the garderobes. Again."

  * * *

  Eadyth was, in fact, gagged and tied to the saddle of her horse when they arrived back at Ravenshire near dawn. As Wilfrid began to undo her bindings, she glared at him icily. She would deal with the oaf later. Right now, she had a knave to kill. A black-haired, blue-eyed knave. And he was nowhere in sight.

  'Twas bad enough that Eirik demanded her return so peremptorily, but he had not cared enough to come for her himself. Truly he considered her mere chattel, Eadyth thought, trying hard to squelch a groan of despair. She must remain angry, not let the loathsome lout see how much he had hurt her with his betrayal and lack of caring.

  Eadyth stomped up the steps as the new sun rose on the horizon, painting the sky a brilliant red. Servants gathered to watch her ascent, wide-eyed with curiosity, many of them giggling. She heard some mention veils and wobbling and knew Bertha's tongue had been at its usual work.

  She entered Eirik's bedchamber without knocking. The empty room had been tidied, and a plump mattress and coverlet graced the newly repaired bed. All of the spent candles had been taken away and new, unlit ones—dozens of them had been placed in their holders. Well, she would have something to say to someone about this waste of her hard-earned wares.

  Turning on her heels, Eadyth was about to go back down the stairs and look for her loathsome lout of a husband when she heard a soft, mewling sound, like a wounded cat. It seemed to be coming from the guest chamber. Backtracking, Eadyth laid a hand on the door and opened it gently.

  Eirik was sitting in a high-backed chair, cradling a beautiful, golden-haired child who wept softly in her near-sleep as she snuggled against his chest. Her vicious, loathsome lout of a husband was crooning tenderly, "Hush, sweet Emma. No one can hurt you now. Hush, now. Hush."

  Eadyth realized, in that instant, that the "beautiful girl" Eirik had referred to in his missive was his precious little daughter. Eadyth put the back of her hand to her mouth in horror at her mistake.

  Eirik looked up then, his furious eyes holding hers steadily. And Eadyth knew she would pay dearly.

  Silently, without saying a word, Eadyth closed the door after her and went back to Eirik's bedchamber. Sitting on the side of the bed, she awaited her punishment, which was sure to come. She had challenged his authority one time too many.

  * * *

  Eirik entered their bedchamber a short time later, closing and locking the door, then leaning back against it lazily. The whole time, he held her eyes, his rigid face betraying none of his emotion, or intent. But Eadyth knew he was angry. Very angry.

  Into the silence, Abdul decided to contribute his sage wisdom. "Lecherous lout. Awk. Seducer of virgins. Awk. Traitorous troll. Awk. Weak-willed son of Satan. Awk. Silk-tongued liar. Awk." All were delivered in a perfectly delivered imitation of Eadyth's voice.

  She groaned.

  "Huge cat. Huge cat. Awk. Comin' soon. Comin' soon. Awk. Dead bird. Dead bird. Awk. Awk. Awk."

  Eirik's face remained rigid with fury.

  "Eirik, let me explain—"

  "Yea, that would be a start," he said with stony dryness and moved away from the door. He poured two goblets of wine and handed one to her. Despite the hour, Eadyth accepted the drink, feeling a tightening in her throat.

  He propped a shoulder against the wall near the bed and waited, twirling the stem of the goblet in his hands with frightening casualness.

  Eadyth drank the remainder of her wine in three quick gulps, then set the goblet on the floor at her feet. "I was angry that you locked me in your bedchamber after..."

  She gulped.

  He waited.

  ". . . after we made love," she said weakly.

  "So you thought that if you seduced me in the night you could buy your freedom?"

  Eadyth snapped to attention indignantly. "I did not seduce you. I mean... oh, why bother!" She shrugged. "Who started what is not the issue. I am trying to explain why I left this room—"

  "—and cracked the skulls of two of my loyal servants," he offered icily, "leaving them for dead."

  "I never did! I barely tapped them on their wooden heads, and they both know it. If they say differently, they are lying."

  "So continue with your tale. You were angry... and?"

  "I was angry that you locked me in, and then Bertha said that mayhap... mayhap..."

  "Why do you hesitate to speak your mind now, wife? 'Tis not in character. Speak up in your usual shrewish manner and accuse me of my sins. Because, for a certainty, I have more than a few sins to lay on you."

  She sneered at his condemning tone. "I thought you were fornicating with your mistress," she snapped.

  "But, Eadyth," he said with mock sweetness, sitting down beside her in a predatory fashion, "you told me on more than one occasion to take my lecherous self off to Jorvik and my mistress. Do you suddenly care whether I make love with other women?"

  She closed her eyes against the tears that began to well hotly and dug her fingernails into her clenched fists. Sweet Mary, she prayed, do not let me break down in front of him. She could not speak over the huge lump in her throat.

  Eirik's fingertip traced the edges of her quivering lips, questioningly, and caught a fat tear that escaped her eyes. Then another.

  "Do you? Do you care if I am with another woman?" he murmured.

  Was his voice soft with ge
ntleness or suppressed anger? Eadyth wondered. She opened her eyes and nodded.

  "Why?"

  "I do not know," she wailed faintly, wringing her hands with dismay. "I wish I did. I loathe this weakness that turns me mewling and weepy-eyed."

  "I did see Asa whilst I was in Jorvik," Eirik admitted unashamedly, twining her one hand with his and pressing hard.

  She stiffened at his words and tried to pull away. "You let me sit here sputtering an apology, when you were guilty the entire time. Oh, you are a brute!" she charged, trying to slap him with her free hand.

  Eirik took both her hands in his, forcing her to turn toward him. Conflicting emotions tore at him. He wanted to shake Eadyth for her willfulness. At the same time, he wanted to kiss her endlessly and forget all the problems that weighed him down.

  "Do you want to know why I met with Asa? Would you hear the important message I had to give her?"

  "Nay," she said stubbornly.

  He dropped her hands suddenly. " 'Tis just as well. I do not wish to tell you now. You do not deserve an explanation."

  "I don't deserve an explanation! Why, you—"

  With a jerk, Eirik jumped up from the bed and began to pace back and forth. He must maintain his distance from this sorry wench. Her nearness disconcerted him, the sweet mole near her luscious lips tantalized him, the smell of her lavender-scented soap drew him closer and closer.

  "I am still angry with you, Eadyth." Despite a part of my body that has forgotten why.

  "Well, I am still angry with you, too."

  "Oh?" Would you like to sit on my lap and "control" me again, Eadyth?

  "You imprisoned me."

  "With good reason." Perhaps that tongue that wags at me so could be put to better use. How about...

  "I can think of no good reason for imprisoning a wife, especially after... well, you know."

  He barely stifled a grin. I can. She noticed his grin, and her face suddenly flushed. Apparently, her imagination was painting the same erotic mind pictures as his. Then his mood changed as he remembered what she had done. He decided to put a stop to her harsh recriminations.

  "Steven is planning to kidnap you as ransom for his son," he announced bluntly. "And what he plans for your entertainment whilst under his 'care' does not bear repeating."

  Eadyth gasped. "How do you know?"

  "He was overheard boasting during his cattle-slaughtering spree."

  As the implications of Eirik's words began to seep into Eadyth's dulled senses, she stiffened, then pulled her hands from his grasp and shoved her palms against his chest. "You thick-headed, dull-witted, lackbrained... oh, there are no words to describe you! You chose to imprison me rather than talk to me sensibly?"

  When Eirik did not move or respond to her taunts, she raised a hand to slap him, but he caught both wrists and held her firm.

  "You were 'imprisoned,' if you could call it that, for your own protection."

  "Argh! How dare you lock me up like a timid, wooly-brained maid rather than tell me the truth?"

  "I knew you would not obey my orders to stay inside the keep. And your leaving for Hawks' Lair, at the least provocation, just proves me right."

  "The least provocation! I would hardly call infidelity 'the least provocation.' "

  He shrugged, and was pleased to see her face turn almost purple with rage at his seeming lack of concern.

  "How would you react if your wife... if I... went off to be with another man? And locked you in a bedchamber to await my every whim?"

  He did not even try to stifle his grin then. "Now, that poses some interesting possibilities."

  His thumbs were tracing sensual circles on the soft inner skin of Eadyth's wrists as they talked. He felt the traitorous increase in her pulse under his fingertips as he spoke. And the flush that swept her face now was undoubtedly caused by his proximity, not her continued anger. He pulled her closer, against his chest, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

  She tried to turn her expressive face away from him, but he cupped her chin in one hand and turned her back to him.

  "You cannot continue to make decisions' for me," she protested weakly. "I am not a child. Nor an untrustworthy wife."

  "You cannot continue to ignore every decision I make," he countered, "as if I have no ability to run my own estates, or care for those under my shield."

  They glared at each other.

  "You will have to be punished."

  She raised her chin haughtily. "I will not display myself for your pleasure in that wispy veil again."

  He grinned. "That was not a punishment."

  "It was to me. You have already made me a laughingstock with the servants. Will you lock me in this bedchamber again?"

  "Not unless I am in here with you," he said with velvet promise. He considered the possibilities of such a shared confinement and felt an immediate thickening in his loins. "In truth, that is not a bad idea," he conceded silkily. "See, Eadyth, I do listen to your advice sometimes."

  "I did not recommend our being locked together in a bedchamber," she asserted indignantly.

  He laughed softly. "But, you must admit, it has definite possibilities. Hmmm. I will have to think on it more."

  "I have to tend my bees, and see what havoc Bertha has wreaked in the kitchen in my absence, and—"

  "I did not mean just yet, Eadyth. Tsk, tsk. Do not be over-anxious. I know you seek a means to relieve that itch you have developed, but—"

  "Overanxious? You are vile to say that of me! And what itch?"

  He grinned widely from ear to ear.

  Puzzled, Eadyth stared at Eirik's smile, which did not reach his angry eyes. Then her lips parted with astonishment and her face turned hot with understanding. "Oh... never mind. see you are just teasing me about punishment."

  "Nay, I am not. You will pay, and pay well, according to my terms, Eadyth. But I need your help with Emma first. Once I lock the door on this bedchamber—and I have decided that poses many opportunities for your 'punishment'—I do not want to be disturbed for days, not even by my needful daughter."

  For days! A delicious tingle swept over Eadyth. What could two people do for days? But then his other words seeped in. "What is wrong with Emma?" she asked.

  He proceeded to tell her of the six-year-old's muteness since the fire that had taken her mother's life three years before. "Her memory is coming back, no doubt prompted by the fever at the orphanage and the burning of tainted clothing and bed linens. She has even started to speak some words. But she screams and cries out at all hours of the day and night."

  Eadyth forgot about her own troubles then and Eirik's continued anger toward her. "Tell me how I can help."

  When Eirik was done, she nodded and moved toward the door with him. Just before they went to Emma, he turned to Eadyth and said, "You and I have much unfinished business betwixt us, wife. Do not think I will forget what you have done. I have a long, long memory, and your tally sheet grows day by day."

  Chapter Sixteen

  That afternoon, Eirik returned from the exercise field with his men. Sweaty and exhausted from the physical punishment, as well as the mental anguish of the past days over both Emma and Eadyth, not to mention the lack of news from the Witan, Eirik proceeded slowly up the steps.

  He stopped at the open doorway of his bedchamber, stunned at the domestic tableau. Eadyth was sitting on his bed with her back propped against the headboard. One arm was wrapped around Emma and the other around John. Larise and Godric sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, facing his wife. And the mangy dog, Prince, lay spread-eagled on the floor, gazing up at Eadyth adoringly.

  The children were listening raptly to a tale Eadyth was telling about his grandfather Harald Fairhair, once king of all Norway. "And Harald fell madly in love with Gyda, the daughter of the king of Hordaland. But Gyda refused to marry him unless he conquered all of Norway, a feat no man had ever accomplished afore."

  "And my grandfather Thork was Harald's son?" Larise asked in awe.

/>   "Yea, one of many, many sons. Some say he had twenty-six sons, and as many daughters."

  Emma tugged on Eadyth's sleeve. "More," she prodded, urging Eadyth to continue the story. And Eirik realized there was yet another word his mute daughter had spoken, without thinking. He saw the light in Eadyth's eyes and knew she recognized the progress, too. Eadyth gave Emma a quick squeeze and continued.

  "And Harald loved the fair Gyda so much that he pledged never to cut his hair or wash his body 'til he ruled all Norway and gained Gyda for his wife. So for years he roamed on his exploits, growing hairier and dirtier. Some called him Harald Mop-Hair then."

  "He must have smelled like a bloody pig," John chortled.

  "John! Watch your foul tongue."

  "Can I forsake bathing and cutting my hair for years and years and years?"

  "Nay, you may not."

  "Tell us more," Larise pleaded. She and Emma were clearly enthralled.

  Eirik shook his head in wonder. How could Eadyth have known it would please his daughters to hear of their family, especially when they had never had any family life to speak of? And where had his wife learned these stories of brave deeds and romantic entanglements involving one of his ancestors?

  "And Tykir told me that your great-grandfather never cut his hair 'til the beautiful princess agreed to marry him," she exclaimed, finishing her tale with a flourish. "And that is how he got the name Harald Fair-Hair."

  My brother! I should have known Tykir would weave a fanciful saga about our bloodthirsty grandfather. Eadyth neglects to mention how many wives and mistresses Harald mounted to beget so many babes. Babes who grew into vicious men who killed each other to gain the throne.

  But Eirik did not break the mood for the children, or Eadyth. Instead, he leaned against the door frame, enchanted by this new side of his shrewish wife.

  And inside his chest Eirik felt his heart expand and shift, and a yearning so intense it was almost painful rippled through his body. He had never had a home, even as a child. Always, he and Tykir were guests in the homes of others while his father pursued his Jomsviking duties and tried to protect them from their vengeful uncles.