Odin's Shadow (Sons Of Odin Book 1) (9th Century Viking Romance) (15 page)

Chapter 18

Alrik had been gone for several days. Only Selia seemed surprised or upset by such behavior. He told no one where he was going, or when to expect him to return. She was almost as angry over this as she was about the babe growing in the slave girl’s belly.

To avoid a difficult conversation her husband had left, revealing more than a few flaws in his personality.

She hadn't expected cowardice to be among those flaws.

Hrefna filled their days with Selia's preferred housekeeping duties in an apparent attempt to distract her from her anger. It wasn't working. They stood at the looms together, weaving, but she found the rhythmic movement she typically found so soothing could not ease her mind. Her work looked as though a child had done it, and she ripped it out to start over.

Hrefna watched her as she continued with her own flawless weaving. "Selia," she began, "how much do you know about Ragnarr?"

Selia turned to the woman. "He killed his wife and his own son. I think he was . . ." She couldn’t think of a Norse word to describe what she had gathered about Ragnarr; that he was mad, impaired, deranged. "A berserker," she murmured. That was a word she definitely knew.

Hrefna raised her brows, nodding. "Yes. He was. Of course no one was sure of that at the beginning. He was too young when he married my sister . . . sixteen, perhaps seventeen. Ragnarr was charming and very handsome. Evja was completely enamored of him. She told our father she would have no other for a husband, and would throw herself into the sea if he refused the match."

Selia swallowed, understanding exactly. Poor Evja, smoldering with desire for a man who blazed brighter than the sun. A man who was also deeply, irreparably flawed.

Hrefna continued. "I didn't live here then, of course. After they were married I would come to visit my sister occasionally to help her with the children, for she had her twins, Jorulf and Gudrun, only a year later. I was five years younger than Evja and it boded well that I practice for my own eventual household.

"As I came on these visits I saw a change in my sister. She was afraid of Ragnarr, and I saw bruises on her body. But she would never admit to me that he hurt her."

Hrefna looked over at her as if expecting a reaction to this, but Selia went on with her weaving even as she listened closely.

"Ragnarr had made quite a name for himself as a warlord by that time. He built this house, and he had riches and slaves beyond imagination." Hrefna dismissed the current situation of the farmstead with a wave of her hand. "This is nothing compared to how it was in Ragnarr's time. But he was never satisfied. He always needed more.

"By the time Dagrun was born, I was married to Olaf. I was busy with my household and soon had a child of my own. But the year Kolgrima turned five I received word Evja was ill and needed me to come. So I left Kolgrima with Olaf and I went that very day."

Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, as if to center herself. "Evja was carrying Alrik and had taken to her bed. My sister was ill, but not in body. She was sick in her spirit, sick with what Ragnarr had done to her. She spoke to me of her desire to die, just climb to the top of the fjord and throw herself off, taking the child with her. But in her next sentence she would speak of killing Ragnarr, or killing his whore. She rambled on, and it took me quite a while to understand what had happened."

"His whore?"

"Ulfrik's mother, the slave girl Treasa. She was the daughter of an Irish lord Ragnarr had captured in a raid. He brought her home with the idea he would ransom her back to her father for a fortune. But he fell in love with the girl. Or became obsessed with her. I think those things were one and the same with Ragnarr. When Treasa's father and his men came to ransom her, Ragnarr killed them all, as he would not give the girl up."

Selia crossed herself, turning her body a bit so Hrefna wouldn't see the gesture. She said a silent prayer of thanks that her own family had been spared the wrath of Ragnarr's son.

Hrefna frowned, chewing her lip as she worked her loom. "Evja had accepted that Ragnarr consorted with thralls. It is a common occurrence, one that many wives overlook. But the way he treated this girl was different, as if not a slave at all, but more of a second wife. Her hair remained uncut, beautiful golden hair that fell nearly to her knees. She wore fine gowns and jewelry that he gave to her. He refused to allow her to sleep with the other thralls, and so had a room built on to the house for her."

Selia's eyes widened at this. How would she herself feel if Alrik built a bedroom on to the house for him to have convenient access to Muirin? She broke out in a clammy sweat.

"Which room?" she managed to squeak out.

"The room that Alrik now sleeps in. When Olaf and I came to take care of the boys, much later, I could only sleep in my sister's room. The thought of sleeping in the bedroom where Ragnarr had kept his concubine, causing my sister so much pain . . . well, I would have rather slept on the floor." Hrefna shuddered.

The massive bed Selia assumed had been constructed for Alrik had not been built for him after all, but for Ragnarr, and Treasa, his concubine. Ulfrik might have been conceived in that bed.

"What did Evja do?" Selia asked.

"There wasn't much she could do, other than divorce him. She was still in love with him, the fool, and as much as I tried to talk her into leaving Ragnarr, she refused."

"What is 'divorce?’"

Hrefna turned to her. "Divorce means to end the marriage. The husband and wife go their separate ways and are free to remarry." At Selia’s blank look, Hrefna studied her. "Is there no divorce where you come from?"

She shook her head. "No. Only death can end a marriage."

Hrefna pondered this. "Well, those are the ways of the White Christ. Not our ways." She raised her eyebrows pointedly as if to imply that Selia would be free to divorce Alrik if she chose to do so.

"Alrik and I were married at the house of my priest," Selia added.

"What?" Hrefna dropped her hands from the loom. "My nephew married you in front of a Christian priest?"

"Yes."

The woman blew out her breath. "Why on earth would he do that? He hates their followers."

At Selia’s soft gasp, Hrefna immediately apologized. "I'm sorry, my dear. I simply can't for the life of me understand why Alrik would do something like that."

Her face hot with emotion, Selia spoke more sharply than she meant to. "He did kill my priest."

Hrefna nodded as though that were a given, but seemed distracted. "Unless," she mused, "he knew of the ways of your people and he wanted to make sure you couldn't divorce him." She appeared to be quite taken aback by this devious possibility.

Nonplussed, Selia pondered the unfamiliar concept of divorce. When she married Alrik, she had done so with the knowledge it would end only with the death of one of them.

Why was Hrefna so shocked?

"He must care for you more than I realized," Hrefna mused. "How long did you know each other before you wed?"

Selia’s cheeks heated as she looked away. "A day," she said quietly.

Dropping her hands from the loom again, Hrefna’s chuckle grew to a deep belly laugh that brought tears to her eyes.

Selia scowled, not at all pleased at being laughed at. "Why is that amusing?"

Hrefna caught her breath and wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. "Oh, my dear child. Alrik is in love with you, can't you see? He went about it like the big, stupid man he is, but it's clear to me now. The way he behaves around you-mooning like a besotted boy-and how angry he became toward Ingrid over you. Now it all makes sense."

It absolutely did
not
make sense, but Selia’s heart swelled a bit at Hrefna's declaration that Alrik was in love with her. She tried unsuccessfully to hide her smile.

Hrefna watched her, all laughter gone. "You love him too, don't you?"

"Yes, I think I do."
Or I had until this awkward mess with Muirin.

As Alrik’s aunt returned to her loom, Selia resumed her work as well. "Finish your story, Hrefna," she suggested. "About your sister."

Hrefna startled briefly. "Of course, let me see . . . Evja told me Ragnarr would no longer touch her after he brought the slave girl home. He would not come to Evja's bed as a husband should to his wife. So out of desperation, she worked a spell in the hope of regaining Ragnarr's affections. It succeeded only once, and that is how she became with child.

"By the time I was called to the house of my sister, she was full into her confinement, with the slave girl slightly farther along. I couldn't stand to watch how Ragnarr treated that girl, as if she were the first woman in the world to carry a child. As if my sister wasn't also with child by him, and indeed hadn't birthed three healthy babes already. He spoiled Treasa, petted her and fawned over her, and he wouldn't let her out of his sight for fear some harm would come to her. I think he worried—perhaps with good reason—that Evja would try to end the girl's life."

Hrefna took a deep breath before continuing. "It became evident around this time that Ragnarr's mind was failing. He insisted to everyone that the slave girl was a goddess, and that their unborn child would be immortal. If anyone tried to argue with him, he became even more incensed, so we finally stopped trying. After I had been here for about a fortnight, he accused me of conspiring with Evja to delude him. He sent me away, telling me he would kill me if I ever returned to his house."

Although Selia had heard part of this tale from Ulfrik, the depth of Ragnarr's madness stunned her. She shivered despite the warmth of the day.

"That was the last time I saw my sister," Hrefna murmured. “The rest of the story I heard later from Dagrun and Geirr. The boys never spoke of it, and still have not to this day."

Hrefna worked the loom, visibly distressed. "When Alrik and Ulfrik were four years old, Ragnarr's concubine again found herself with child. She had twice lost babes between Ulfrik and this one, so of course Ragnarr was suspicious of foul play. Gudrun had married and was living in Bjorgvin with her husband. I think she felt relief to be out of Ragnarr's house. Jorulf was fifteen and big for his age, nearly the size of his father. Dagrun told me they frequently argued. The boy hated Treasa, and was furious at the way Ragnarr shamed my sister with his behavior.

"Ragnarr regarded Ulfrik with favoritism, as if the boy were his legitimate offspring and not a thrall's child. Dagrun has a big heart, and she told me she loved both of her younger brothers equally, although Jorulf and Gudrun didn't feel the same about Ulfrik as they did Alrik. This lead to a very strained home life for everyone involved.

"Then Treasa began to bleed, and it became apparent she was losing her child. But the babe would not be expelled—only blood, for days on end. Treasa grew feverish and eventually took to her bed. As she weakened, Ragnarr was convinced a spell had been placed on her. He blamed Evja.

"Ragnarr had never freed Treasa, so she was still by law a thrall although he didn't treat her as such. Before she died, she begged Ragnarr to free their son, Ulfrik, as she feared for his safety. A slave's life is worth next to nothing, but to take the life of a free man or child is a serious crime. So when the slave girl died and Ragnarr freed her son, my sister could take no more. I wonder if she did plan to kill the boy. I'll never know."

Selia shuddered at how casually Hrefna could speak of a potential murder plot on a child. Poor Ulfrik. Did he know these grim details?

"Did Evja kill Treasa, as Ragnarr thought?"

Hrefna paused. "I don't know," she admitted. "Dagrun said she was not aware of such a thing. But she was only ten years old at the time, and of course viewed things as a child. Besides, it didn't matter if Evja killed Treasa or not, because Ragnarr was convinced she had. The day of Treasa's burial they argued bitterly. And the argument ended with him snapping my sister's neck."

Selia expelled a shaky breath. She had known how this brutal story would conclude. "And Jorulf?"

"He stepped in to try to save his mother. And when he could not, he drew his sword on his father, an insult which Ragnarr could not stomach . . . and so Ragnarr slew him as well."

Selia’s hands trembled on the loom. “How could he kill his own child?”

"Because Ragnarr had gone completely mad. Dagrun and the boys witnessed everything. Dagrun said she had never seen such a look on Ragnarr's face as he killed her mother and brother. She thought in his bloodlust he would kill them all. So she took her younger brothers and ran. They escaped to their grandfather's house, and when Geirr discovered what his son had done, he took a party of men to find Ragnarr. They slew him here in this house."

Selia swallowed. Would she ever grow accustomed to the violent ways of this new land? Little wonder Finngalls could kill a foreigner without a second thought, if they took the lives of their own children when deemed necessary.

"Selia.” Hrefna gained her wavering attention. “There are two reasons I'm telling you all of this. The first is simply for your own safety-you need to be very, very careful around Alrik when he's angry. We have all learned how to handle him. Or at least all of us have but Ingrid, who insists on taunting him like a caged bear. But you, child, you need to be aware of how dangerous it is to be near him when he's in his rage." She nodded toward Selia's shoulder.

"And," she continued, "you need to know when Alrik leaves, it is a good thing. Sometimes he chops wood or spars with Ulfrik, but when he leaves it's because he fears himself, of what he might do. I think his worst worry is that of turning into his father. He left because he feared he would kill Ingrid otherwise."

Selia pondered this for a moment. Perhaps Alrik’s abrupt departure had not been the cowardly move she had taken it for after all. "Hrefna, do you think he will ever not be—” She found herself unable to say the word. As though to speak it would make it more real.

Not be a berserker.

"I honestly don't know," Hrefna replied. "I love Alrik like a son, but I realized long ago he was . . . damaged. There is something wrong with him, something beyond his control, and I feel sorry for him. I want more than anything for him to be happy."