Lord of Falcon Ridge (16 page)

“You,” Rorik said. “Kerek, what is this?”

“By all the gods,” Merrik said. “You brought us food and water. You kept us alive. Why, damn you? What is the meaning of this? You play one of Ragnor's perverted games?”

Kerek held up his hand. He turned to Chessa. “If you agree to come with me, Princess, Olaf will give Kiri back to her father. It's a simple trade.”

“Papa.”

“It's all right, sweeting. Don't move.”

“I don't know how to make him let me down, Papa. He's strong.”

“I know. Promise me you won't move.” Cleve looked at Chessa. Her face was pale in the eerie predawn light but her hand was firm on that knife. The man Erek hadn't moved, had barely breathed. He'd heard Kerek speak with near reverent awe of Chessa, of her strength, her will, the future she would give to the Danelaw.

Cleve said to Kerek, “You wanted this to happen, that much is obvious. But you couldn't have known that Chessa would have brought Kiri. Explain yourself, Kerek.”

“On our voyage back to York, Torric and I managed to plan what we would do. When you released him to fetch King Olric, he told the king of our plan to drug you and it worked. I kept you alive because, despite all that's happened, I consider you my friends. Ragnor forgets that you saved our lives, Rorik. I have never forgotten. However, I must have the Princess and now it will happen.

“The day you woke up from the drug, the king sent men to Hawkfell Island with a simple offer. All of you would be returned in exchange for the Princess.”

“There was no messenger,” Rorik said.

Kerek merely shrugged. “Both the captain and I gave them the best directions we could. It appears they didn't find the island.”

“The storm,” Rorik said slowly. “There was a terrible storm that lasted nearly four days. We couldn't leave until it was over. They were probably killed.”

“Aye, I have thought as much, that or they were blown off course. I knew Rorik would come to rescue you, despite Ragnor, who would have killed all of you if his father hadn't stopped him. Well, not really the king, but never mind that now. Aye, Lord Rorik, I knew you'd come. I've had guards hidden waiting for you. You came. One of my men fetched me immediately. I couldn't believe my good fortune when I saw the Princess and the little girl. It was then I knew the gods blessed my endeavor. Aye, the gods
approve what I'm doing for the Danelaw. They sent me the princess and the little girl.”

“You're mad, Kerek,” Cleve said. “Chessa is just Chessa. She's a woman, nothing more. Forget this vision you have of her.”

Kerek smiled at him, even as he shook his head. “If you love her, Cleve, I'm sorry. She is destined for other things. Now, Princess, come to me now and Kiri goes to her father.”

Merrik laughed. “Chessa, don't move. Kerek won't kill Kiri. By the gods, this is an irony that cramps my belly. You won't win in this, Kerek.”

“I have won,” Kerek said quietly. He saw Hafter take a step forward. He saw the circle tightening. “No, stop, all of you. Don't move, any of you. Not unless you want the little girl dead. I will kill her. I don't want to, but I will. It is the Princess's choice. Will you come to me, Princess? If you do, Olaf will let her go to her father.”

“If she dies then you are dead in the next moment, Kerek.”

“Aye, I know, Cleve. It doesn't matter. I just want the princess. I must have her.”

“Very well,” Chessa said. Her knife was still firmly against Erek's throat. “I agree to the exchange.”

Cleve said, “Chessa, I cannot trade you for Kiri. I cannot.”

“I know,” she said. “It's my decision.”

Kerek smiled at her, then said to Olaf, “Let the girl go to her father.”

“But she still holds the knife at Erek's neck.”

“She will drop the knife when the little girl is safe. Do as I tell you.”

Olaf looked baffled, but he released Kiri. She stood there a moment, staring from Cleve back to Chessa.

“Go, Kiri, go to your papa. I will be all right. Go.”

“But you told me just one papa wasn't enough. You said—”

“I know, sweeting, but things have changed. Your papa
will take good care of you. Go now.”

Cleve looked at Chessa even as Kiri bounded into his arms. He held her close, but his eyes never left Chessa's pale, set face. He watched her slowly lower the knife and step back from Erek. Then she handed the knife, handle forward, to Kerek.

“Thank you, Princess,” Kerek said. He turned back to the group of men. “Merrik, Cleve, I am sorry that Ragnor got past me and came to torment you. But now you will escape and return to your farmsteads. All will be the same again. Your lives will be as they were once more. Cleve, you will simply inform Duke Rollo of the princess's marriage to the heir of the Danelaw. Merrik, you'll find the
Silver Raven
at the far dock. My men moved it from its hiding place when I knew Rorik had come. It is your warship despite what Ragnor claims. You will find food and clean clothes aplenty in the covered cargo space. However, there is no treasure. The king isn't that generous. I bid you good-bye.”

Kerek turned, motioned to his two men, and walked into the woods, Chessa at his side.

Cleve ignored the men's furious words. He took two steps toward the woods. “No, Cleve, not yet,” Merrik said. “Not just yet.”

“There must be a way to save her, there must.”

“We will find it,” Hafter said. “But Merrik is right. Not now. You must get back your strength, we must make plans for this. We will get her, Cleve.”

Gunleik placed his big veined hand on Cleve's shoulder. “She did what she had to do. She is much like Mirana. She will take care of herself.”

But Cleve wondered how. She tended to speak before she thought. She despised Ragnor and she wouldn't hesitate to tell him so. If the king didn't stop him, Ragnor would try to strangle her. He could just picture Chessa goading Ragnor into a black rage. He was very afraid. He felt immense guilt.

He also felt loss. He didn't like it. It was empty and cold,
what he felt. Kerek had apologized to Cleve if he'd loved Chessa. That was ridiculous. He'd been a weak fool to believe Sarla, and look what it had gotten him. Well, he'd gotten Kiri, but still, no other woman would make him disbelieve what he knew to be true. He had a scarred ugly face and no possessions worth speaking of. What Chessa wanted of him, he had no idea. But she couldn't love him. He knew that as surely as he remembered Sarla's hatred spewing on him.

Cleve went down on his knees and looked at his daughter. “You didn't starve yourself this time.”

“You didn't come home the day I laid down the eighth stick.”

“As you know now, I couldn't. You mustn't consider me dead when I don't come back to you on the exact day.”

She nodded. “That's what Papa said.”

“I know, I just said it. We will speak about this further, but now we must get away from this place. Hafter, please carry her. I'm too filthy.”

Cleve said whilst they walked along the beach, the water occasionally flowing over their feet, “I can't let Chessa remain here. She gave herself for Kiri. I must think of some way to get her back.”

“Aye,” Rorik said over his shoulder. “Cease picking at yourself, Cleve. We'll get her back.”

“I'll kill that mangy little bastard,” Merrik said, rubbing his hands together. “But I do want a bath first and enough food to fill up all the cracks in my belly.”

Gunleik said, “I told you she is like Mirana. Strong. Aye, and she has guile, just as Mirana does.”

“You used to curse that Mirana gave you your gray hair, Gunleik,” Rorik said.

“Aye, she did. She'll give you gray hair as well.”

Cleve listened to the men. The emptiness in him grew. He hated it.

 

That evening the men camped along a rock inlet some miles north along the coast. They were clean, well garbed
again, and hadn't stopped eating.

To Cleve's astonishment, Kiri refused food. He himself cut up a piece of roasted pheasant. She just shook her head.

“What is this? I'm with you again. I'm safe. I'm here. Eat.”

“Papa isn't here.”

“What are you talking about, Kiri?”

Rorik moved to sit next to Kiri. He pulled her onto his lap. The fire was warm, the smell of the pheasant sweeter than a virgin's mouth, Hafter had said, smacking his lips.

“I don't understand this,” Cleve said. “Kiri looks as well fed as a little stoat. Why did she begin to eat again when she started starving herself the eighth day?”

“The truth of the matter, Cleve,” Rorik said, “is that Kiri now has two papas.”

“What?”

“We couldn't get her to eat. She was becoming skinny as a pole, wouldn't talk, wouldn't do anything. You know her way. We tried everything.”

“Aye,” Gunleik said. “I even whittled a knife for her, but she wouldn't touch it.”

“Finally Chessa said she'd had enough. She told Kiri that she would be her second papa when you weren't about. I don't know everything she told her, but the next morning, Kiri ate an entire bowl of Utta's porridge. Then the two of them went off together. Chessa carried a huge cloth filled with food. When they returned to the longhouse that afternoon, Kiri was smiling. All the food was gone.”

Rorik sighed then. “By the gods, I let Chessa convince me that Kiri would fade away into a ghost, thus I let the two of them come with us. Aye, she said over and over that Kiri would stop eating again if she didn't see her first papa very soon, that if they didn't come, Kiri would believe Chessa had lied to her, and starve herself again. I had no choice, Cleve. By Thor's axe, I'm sorry.”

Cleve looked into the fire, looked at the hissing and
spitting pheasant, two of them still on thin long sticks. One of the sticks was beginning to burn. He didn't want that pheasant to fall into the flames. He said nothing, merely leaned forward and pulled it off.

“Papa, what are you going to do?”

“Maybe Chessa will decide she wants to marry Ragnor.”

His daughter gave him a disgusted look.

“I agree,” he said, and pulled off a wing only to burn his fingers. He yowled.

Merrik took the pheasant and laid it reverently on a rock to cool. “I would have broken your jaw if you'd dropped it in the dirt,” he said matter-of-factly.

Cleve said finally, “If I get her back, Kiri, will you promise me you'll eat right now? Some of that pheasant that your uncle is watching like a vulture?”

The little girl studied his face. She touched his golden beard. Finally, she stretched out two fingers and pulled off some meat. “Papa's meat tastes good too,” she said when she'd swallowed.

“But I don't cook—”

“She's talking about her second papa.”

Cleve looked over his daughter's head. Nothing was right. Nothing had been right the minute he'd met Chessa when she'd forced him to come into that garden at her father's palace. He turned back and said to Rorik, “Now she plans to starve herself if both Chessa and I aren't with her.”

Kiri chewed on another piece of meat given to her by her uncle Rorik. “Two papas are good,” she said, and licked her fingers.

“Aye, it means you'll get more attention and become as irritating as Ragnor,” Cleve said, thinking that he probably should cuff her, but he kissed her instead. He said to Rorik, “Kerek will expect us to do something. We must have a plan that even he won't guess.”

“Aye,” Hafter said, sitting cross-legged beside Cleve. “He's clever. That's frightening in an enemy.”

Cleve suddenly smiled, and it made him look dangerous and terrifying, that scar with the smile made him look like the Christian devil himself. “Kerek won't expect this,” he said, and rubbed his hands together.

 

 

C
HESSA SAT AT
a long banquet table across from Ragnor. The chamber was long and narrow, benches around all the walls. Many people could dine in here. There were no windows. Dishes of oil with burning wicks floating in them sat at intervals on the oak planked table. Rush lights were fastened to the walls. Guards stood at the two entrances. The ceiling was low, the wooden beams black from years of smoke. There must have been a cooking fire in here at one time. The king's magnificent chair was still empty. Kerek sat next to her, Ragnor opposite her, smiling lazily like a lizard sunning himself.

“I didn't think Kerek could get you for me.” Ragnor bit off a large chunk of bread and began chewing, his mouth still open. “Truth is, Chessa, I would rather have Utta.”

“Utta is married, you fool,” she said, and picked up her own piece of bread. She opened her mouth wide, stuffed it in, and began chewing just as Ragnor was.

“You will stop that,” Ragnor said, throwing his bread down. “You revolt me. It makes you look ugly.”

“What, don't you believe that when you do it, it makes you look just as ugly and revolting?”

“Princess,” Kerek said. “Please, don't push him. He doesn't understand your humor.”

“Shut your mouth, Kerek. You don't understand
anything. Listen, Chessa, I'll beat you.” He leaned over the table toward her. “I'll get a whip from the stables and I'll strip you to your white skin and I'll beat you. Then you won't make sport of me. Then you'll hold your shrew's tongue.”

“You stuck your sleeve in the stewed peas, Ragnor. It's dripping. You look ridiculous.”

“Princess. My lord. If you both please,” Kerek said. “Here comes your father. I beg you to moderate your speech, both of you.”

As King Olric walked to the table, with two very young and very beautiful female servants who were mirror images of each other behind him whose function at the dining table Chessa couldn't guess, Kerek said, “I trust your chamber is sufficient, Princess?”

“No,” she said. “It is too small, the box bed is too narrow, the pillow is too firm, the—”

“And your servant, Ingurd? She's stupid and insults you? I selected her myself,” said Kerek.

He'd gotten her. “Your men brought cold bathwater. I am used to much more luxury, Kerek.” She looked around, her eyes meeting the king's. “This palace isn't at all what I expected. It's dark and smells of old food. It hasn't the grace and wealth of my father's palace in Dublin.”

“You didn't expect anything,” Ragnor shouted at her. “Damn you, Chessa, stop playing the spoiled bitch. It won't work, no one will believe you, at least they won't once they realize what a stubborn witch you are.”

“I am King Olric.”

She smiled at the old man, who was short, fat bellied, and hadn't a single tooth in his mouth. He looked petulant and vain. He looked as if his wits had begun wandering some years before.

“These are two of my concubines.” They were each so fair that their hair looked nearly white. Their eyes were down. “They're twins, so alike even I can't tell who is who. I bought them from their father. They suit me well enough. And you are Princess Chessa, King Sitric's
daughter. You are here now, just as Kerek promised. Well done, Kerek.”

“I wish you'd asked me, Father. I would have gotten her sooner than Kerek did.”

“Is that true, Ragnor? Perhaps later you can tell me how you planned to bring the princess here.”

She realized in that instant that he was dangerous, that he would lash out and grant no mercy, not just threaten, despite wandering wits. She said, “Your concubines are beautiful, sire.”

A male slave assisted the king into his chair. One of the concubines unfolded a beautiful linen cloth and spread it over the king's chest, to protect the gold chains about his neck, each of them inlaid with diamonds and rubies.

King Olric said to Kerek, “She is passable. Her hair is black, but with the ribbons threaded through the braids, it lessens the coarse effect. Her skin is a strange shade—a pale gold—unusual, but not ugly. She looks foreign. It is her eyes that are interesting. Stand up, Princess. I wish to see if you'll be a good breeder.”

She heard Kerek suck in his breath. She realized he was frightened of what she would do. She looked at Ragnor and watched him sit forward. Very slowly, a gentle submissive smile on her face, Chessa rose from her chair. She walked slowly to where the king sat, watching her. She lightly touched his sleeve. “Do you think I'll breed well, sire?”

He splayed his hands across her belly, stretching them to touch her pelvic bones. She didn't move. Her smile never lessened. Then she felt his hands go around to cup her buttocks. She didn't move even as he pulled her against him and his mouth was moving against her breasts. “Aye,” the king said at last, snapping his fingers, “she'll be good sport in bed.”

“I thought you wanted to see if she'd breed well,” Ragnor said, sprawled now in his chair, frowning at his father who was drinking from a goblet held to his mouth by one of his concubines. Chessa sat again. She felt revulsion, but she dared not show it. The father wasn't like the son.

She watched one of the concubines cut off a thick piece of roasted beef. She watched her chew it very thoroughly. She watched in utter surprise when the concubine then removed it from her mouth and gently laid it between the king's lips. Chessa wanted to gag, but she didn't. She just lowered her head and took another bite of bread, a rye bread that was delicious.

Kerek said very quietly, “You're wise, Princess. I didn't have time to tell you that the king's temper isn't as predictable and pleasant as his son's. But you guessed, didn't you?”

“What did you say to her, Kerek?”

“Nothing, my lord. I just asked her if I could have some of the sweet cabbage. I believe there are cloudberries in it. I like it much.”

“You're a stupid man, Kerek. If it weren't for you we would never have been caught by that damned Rorik. If it weren't for you we wouldn't have been wrecked on his damned island. Both you and Captain Torric, that stupid slug, both of you are to blame.”

The king raised a hand, each finger covered with silver and gold rings. To Chessa's surprise, Ragnor fell silent instantly. “The messengers returned today, Kerek. They didn't find this Hawkfell Island. They said there was a storm and it sent them into waters they didn't know. They said they were lucky to return to York. I would have killed them for their failure except that we do have the princess so it doesn't really matter. One of the men is very skilled, so his death would be a waste.”

“I'd kill Captain Torric, Father. He was the one who gave the men the course to travel. Besides, he's lame now. What good is he?”

“Captain Torric and Kerek were the ones who planned how we would get the Vikings and then the princess. I have rewarded him.”

“That's ridiculous. It was I who told Kerek that we should drug them, I who told Kerek that you should play a generous role and give them treasures as a reward. I didn't
want them to fight and die. I wanted to torture them. I wanted to kill Cleve slowly, that or sell him for a slave. He was a slave once, did you know? Aye, it was my plan and Kerek and Torric have stolen it from me.”

The king said merely after a concubine had gently wiped his mouth with a piece of white linen, “Don't lie, Ragnor. Remember that slave girl, Mora? The one you raped when you were thirteen years old? You brayed and bragged about your prowess, how you even pleasured her.” The king paused a moment, then gave his son a gentle smile. It made Chessa shiver. “I found out of course that it was the captain of your guard who'd taken the girl and you'd watched, then threatened the girl that you'd kill her if she ever told the truth.”

In that moment, Chessa knew exactly what Ragnor was thinking. He couldn't wait for his father to die. If he could get away with it, he'd kill Olric himself. He said, “The girl lied to you.”

“It wasn't the girl who told me the truth. It was your mother. She is completely in my power, my prisoner, a submissive creature. I allow her to see everything, as you well know, and she tells me.”

Ragnor knifed a huge piece of sea bass into his mouth, the juices running down his chin. “It was a long time ago. Mother probably forgot. However, Kerek let the Viking prisoners escape. He could have captured all of them, including Rorik and his Hawkfell Island men. He didn't. He failed. I would like to have this Hawkfell Island. Then I could have Utta.”

The king was swallowing from another gem-encrusted goblet held for him by his other concubine, evidently a different drink, for there were now three goblets set in front of him.

“She wanted me. Utta wanted me. She desired me. She gave me her precious mead to drink. Aye, Father, she would have come with me if it weren't for the men.”

Chessa said in a clear loud voice, “Utta thought you were a fool and a dolt. She kept you drinking her mead so
you would be too drunk to cause trouble. She failed, but she did try.”

There was complete silence at the table. The slaves and the concubines froze. A chewed bite of beef was held two inches from the king's mouth. He stared at Chessa.

Ragnor leapt to his feet, his face mottled with rage. He shook his fist at her, yelling, “Damn you, Chessa. You're nothing now. You're in my power and you'll do as I tell you. I'll beat you if I wish. You will show me respect and obeisance.”

“I never did before. Why should I begin now? You deserve respect and obeisance as much as I deserve to be wedded to a pathetic worm like you.”

She heard Kerek draw in his breath. She knew she was playing a dangerous game, but her life was in the balance.

Ragnor jumped onto the table, hurling himself at her. It was so unexpected, the concubine screamed and her chewed bite of beef fell to the floor. Kerek hurled himself out of his chair, jerked Chessa back, and held himself in line for Ragnor's attack.

Ragnor thudded against him, his hands gouging into Kerek's throat. Kerek grabbed Ragnor's upper arms, but it wouldn't be enough. Ragnor had more leverage. Chessa grabbed her eating knife, a beautiful silver piece, and stabbed it into the back of Ragnor's hand. He screamed, fell away, and slid to the floor, his clothing smeared with cabbage, peas, and apples baked in honey. A platter of boar steaks tilted on the edge of the table and fell, splattering Ragnor's chin and chest with gravy and fat.

Ragnor was on his hands and knees, his hand fiery with pain, so humiliated he could scarcely think. He knew in that moment he would kill her. As soon as he rose, he would kill her.

Then, to his shock, he heard a hoarse sound. He looked up to see his father leaning back in his chair. His head was thrown back. He was laughing. He hadn't heard his father laugh for as long as he'd been old enough to know what a laugh was. Then his father was howling with laughter. His
toothless mouth was gaping open, his hands were holding his fat belly. The concubines were fluttering about him, not knowing what to do. The guards came forward, but they just stared, their swords at their sides. Chessa didn't move, nor did Kerek, who just stared in astonishment at the king.

“What is this, Olric? You look ridiculous. Why are you laughing?”

“It's the queen,” Kerek said, and quickly bowed to the lady who stood not three feet away from them, looking from her son to her husband. She was dressed in a gown more beautiful than any Sira owned, all embroidered with gold thread in intricate designs of birds and flowers against the soft white wool material. Her hair was braided atop her head, thick braids that were still blond, threaded with strands of white. Her face was thin and beautiful. Ragnor had the look of her. She didn't look at all submissive. She didn't look at all as if she were this fat old man's prisoner.

“Madam,” Kerek said. “This is the princess of Ireland, here to marry Prince Ragnor.”

Chessa straightened to her full height. She was just as tall as the queen, and she was grateful for that.

“At least you're no whimpering little fool,” Turella said. “I am from the House of Tur, in the Bulgar. A mighty kingdom, one that makes the Danelaw look like the remains of a feast. You may kiss my hand.”