Lord of Falcon Ridge (32 page)

“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 rushes 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.”