Odin's Shadow (Sons Of Odin Book 1) (9th Century Viking Romance) (20 page)

Selia rolled her eyes, unconvinced, as Hrefna added, "I wouldn't be at all surprised if Alrik offered her to your brother in marriage."

Choking on her tea, Selia coughed and set the cup down. "No," she sputtered. How could she convince Hrefna this was a bad idea? "Ingrid is too young to be married."

“By law she could have been married three years ago. And I’m sure Alrik would have consented, if only he could have found a willing bridegroom."

Selia stared at Hrefna in dismay. How could she possibly tell the woman her hopes for Ingrid would be dashed as soon as Ainnileas decided the girl could no longer further his warped scheme?

If Alrik offered his daughter’s hand to him, things would go from bad to worse in a heartbeat.

Chapter 24

Selia sniffled as she walked from the privy back toward the house. If only she had some chore that would keep her outside. Anything to avoid a further conversation with Hrefna-or worse yet, another sickening display of infatuation from Ingrid and Ainnileas.

She climbed up onto the retaining wall that circled the rear of the house and sat there for some time, kicking her heels against the stones. Everything was crumbling now; all she thought she could count on had been built on shadows and half-truths. Her foolish brother was either going to end up with his throat slit, or married to Ingrid. She wasn't quite sure which was worse.

And Alrik, the man she loved, had kept the news of her father’s death from her. Not to protect her from grief, but to selfishly avoid her inevitable outburst of emotion.

But had he actually lied? Although he had hidden the truth, he wasn't the one who told her that her father was unharmed. That dubious honor went to his brother, when she had inquired about the safety of her family. Surely Ketill had told Ulfrik of Niall’s death when they had spoken at the cove.

Ulfrik had lied to her. She kicked her heel hard into the wall, satisfied when she chipped a small stone out and it hit the ground.

As if on cue, Selia heard the faint sound of hoof beats in the distance. Shielding her eyes with her hand, she squinted into the setting sun. Ulfrik, returning from whatever errand the Hersir had sent him on. As he reined his horse to a walk, he glanced in her direction, then quickly looked away, steering the horse toward the barn.

Coward.

A male thrall followed him into the barn to tend to the horse, and Ulfrik emerged a moment later. She watched him approach. For two brothers who looked so alike, she could easily tell them apart even from a distance. Alrik moved with a swagger, the beautiful dance of muscle, tendon, and bone breathtaking to watch. Although Ulfrik's build was similar to his brother’s, he carried himself very differently. If Alrik appeared to be godlike, then Ulfrik was . . . simply human.

He seemed guarded as he stopped a few feet in front of her. "What are you doing out here alone?"

She glared at him. "Well, if you've confirmed for your brother that the ship is gone, I can hardly run off, can I?"

Ulfrik ran his hands through his damp hair. Her sensitive nose picked up the scent of horse and fresh male sweat, which she found not unpleasant. But as a true Finngall, he would want a bath.

Indeed, his gaze flicked in the direction of the bathhouse before turning back to her with resignation. "If you have something to say to me, then just say it."

Selia readily showed her fury. "You lied to me, Ulfrik. You knew my father was dead, you knew it the night it happened, but you
lied
to me. I would expect something like that from Alrik, but not from you."

"Why?"

He took a step closer, and she blinked as she tried to refocus on him. The tea was beginning to work. "Because you're not like him. He doesn't know right from wrong, and you do."

Ulfrik's eyes flashed. "Are you sure about that? Are you sure he doesn't know right from wrong? Or maybe he uses that as an excuse to do whatever he wants, and we all just accept it."

He was livid. The man was known to guard his emotions the way a miser hoarded his treasure, yet he had flushed with anger, his hands clenched at his sides in a posture she had seen countless times from his brother.

Was there more to Ainnileas' suspicions than she had originally thought?

But she wasn't going to allow Ulfrik to deflect the conversation away from his own blame in this. "This does not concern Alrik."

"Of course it does, Selia. Think about why you have higher expectations for me than you have for your own husband. You continue to let him hurt you, yet you forgive him. I make one small mistake, and-"

"A small mistake!" she cried. "How can you call lying to me about my father’s death a small mistake?" The tea
was
working; her words slurred a bit. Perhaps he wouldn’t pick up on it.

But he scanned her face shrewdly. "Have you had more of Hrefna's tea?"

"Yes," she admitted.

"Then you need to get inside before you tumble from that wall." He stepped in to help her down. "We'll talk tomorrow." He placed his hands on her waist and was about to lift her, but Selia stopped him.

"Wait." She willed herself to concentrate as she looked at him. He was standing much too close to her; so close she could feel his body heat and smell his maleness. The expression on his face reminded her of Alrik. Why did he have to look so much like his brother? She shook her head in an attempt to clear it. "Tell me why you lied. I need to know.”

Ulfrik's gaze was intense, wandering down to her mouth for a moment, just as Alrik's always did before he kissed her. But then he drew his breath in sharply and looked away. "That night, when Ketill told me about your father, I thought I might save you the pain of knowing he was dead." His jaw clenched. "I didn't tell you the truth because I didn't think you would live long enough to find out. I know what Alrik is, Selia. I know what he's capable of."

If she had wanted brutal honesty, there it was. Ulfrik thought his brother would kill her before she had a chance to learn of Niall's death.

She nodded, the movement causing her head to spin. She suddenly felt very tired, and gave in to the need to close her eyes for a moment.

But when she opened them again, Ulfrik was in the middle of a sentence. Selia had the familiar feeling that she had jumped forward in time somehow, missing out on something important. Only the people who knew her very well could sense she had blacked out, but Ulfrik stopped talking and studied her.

"Are you all right? Is it the tea, or something else?" He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the house.

Hrefna didn't know about Selia's spells. She would have to be told sooner or later, but Selia hadn't the nerve yet to have that conversation with her.

"I just want to go to sleep."

He helped her down from the wall. "Selia,” he vowed, “if I had it to do over again, I would have told you."

She slept deeply, but awoke in the middle of the night with Alrik's hands on her body. The room was dark, and he seemed very drunk as he fumbled to pull her shift up. Selia stared into the blackness. After the strange encounter she had with Ulfrik earlier, she felt an irrational need to make sure it was indeed her husband who was currently sliding his large hand up her leg. She reached up, searching for Alrik's face, and sighed when she felt his braided beard.

Selia pulled him down to her, kissing him deeply despite his taste, like a vat of ale. He could make her forget about the events of the day, if only for a little while. She reached between them to unfasten his breeches, and as she felt the hardness of his manhood she also felt the edge of his teeth on her lips, and she knew he was smiling.

"Roll over," she whispered.

He complied with a chuckle.

Straddling him, she took both of his wrists and pressed them to the pillow above his head, then bent to kiss him again. He was too drunk to protest. She placed fluttering kisses down his neck, felt him shiver, then finally bit him on the shoulder.

Alrik groaned and tried to shift his hands from the pillow, but she interlaced her fingers with his and held him to the bed. He laughed but remained still. They both knew he could break free in a second, but clearly enjoyed her unusual behavior.

Selia leaned over him, brushing her nipple across his lips. He tried to catch her breast in his mouth but she pulled back. She teased him again, loving the unexpected exhilaration of being in control of this massive man.

It didn’t last long. Alrik broke her hold on his hands easily, then with a firm clasp on her hips, he pushed her back and sheathed himself inside her. She cried out at the sensation, digging her fingernails into his arms as he began to move within her. She rode him hard, taking out her anger on his body. She threw her head back in the darkness as the waves of pleasure crashed over her, and the noise that came from her throat sounded like a sob.

Selia took in a shaky breath as Alrik’s large body finally stilled beneath her. Drained, she moved to lie next to him in the bed, but instead he pulled her down on top of him, wrapping his arms around her. She relaxed into the warmth of his chest and listened to the thumping of his heart under her ear.

"Selia, my little one—I thought you would hate me." He slurred in his drunkenness, but she also picked up an odd tightness in his voice. If the Hersir were not speaking she would have sworn he was crying.

She tried to shift her body, but his arms clamped down to pin her to his chest. In the pitch blackness, the only way she could have determined if he shed tears would be to touch his face. He obviously wouldn’t allow her such a liberty.

"I told you I love you, Alrik." She sighed. "I cannot make myself stop, even if I wanted to."

"Do you want to stop, then?"

She hesitated for a moment. "Sometimes when you are bad, I want to not love you so much. So you cannot hurt me."

He lay quietly for some time. "I have done many bad things in my life, little one."

"I know."

"You
don't
know." His voice sounded choked. “It never mattered before . . ." he trailed off for a moment, his hand stroking her hair. As he touched the dent in her skull, however, he shifted his hand away from it quickly. It had always made people nervous, and he seemed no exception.

"I can't change who I am, Selia. I can't change the things I've done. But I won't let you leave me." He held her so tightly she feared he would crush her.

His heart pounded now, directly under her ear, and she squirmed in his grip. "You are hurting me, Alrik," she protested, her voice muffled into his chest.

"I won't let you leave me," he repeated. "Tell me you won't leave me."

"I will not leave you," she assured.

He loosened his grip, and she felt the pressure of his lips on the top of her head as he kissed her. It was probably the closest thing she would get to an apology from him for not telling her about her father's death.

Alrik held her for a long time, and she listened as his racing heart slowed and his breathing deepened. His arms relaxed enough for her to shift her body a bit, and she reached for his face. She found his chin and he didn't move, so she slid her fingers up his cheek until she felt the damp tracks of his tears.

I am right.

Alrik Blood Axe had been crying.

Chapter 25

The next morning, Selia found Ulfrik unusually talkative as they broke their fast. He had stopped at Bjorn's house on his way back from ensuring the Irish ship had indeed sailed away from the coast of Norway. Ulfrik then had accepted Bjorn's invitation to take supper with him and his family. It had been half a year since he had seen Bolli Ketilson.

“Bolli wouldn’t let me leave without sparring with him first.” Ulfrik chuckled. “He is as big as his brothers, and better with a sword, I think. He said he is ready for his oath-taking as soon as you’ll have him.”

Alrik, suffering from a hangover, frowned at this. "Do you suggest I employ a wet-nurse to go with us on the fall trip?"

Ulfrik shrugged as he reached for more bread. “You and I were younger than Bolli on our first raid. We didn’t need a wet nurse. Or at least, I didn’t.”

This only earned him a piercing stare from his brother.

Selia looked hesitantly from Alrik to Ulfrik. "What is a 'wet-nurse?’" she asked, unfamiliar with the Norse word.

Alrik massaged his temples. "I'm not in the habit of taking children along on the ship. A wet-nurse feeds a babe." He reached out and squeezed her breast, as if to demonstrate, and she smacked his hand away.

Her eyes darted toward Ainnileas, unsure how much of the conversation he was able to follow. If Alrik planned on going back to Ireland in the fall, then her brother could potentially go home with him. That was some time away, however; too long for Ainnileas to stay in Norway. It would give him more time to plot something, and more time to get hurt.

Not to mention how a long sea voyage would place him in a confined space with Alrik and thirty other Vikingers. She would be unable to intervene on her brother's behalf if he did or said something foolish, a likely endeavor for him.

She didn't know which was worse; sending him with Alrik or letting him take his chances with the Irish sailors of her father's ship. Ainnileas had joked about them throwing him overboard, but she had seen the look of fear in his eyes. The men had been assured a large reward for bringing her home safely to Buadhach, which of course they wouldn't receive if she stayed in Norway.

Would the promise of the silver Ainnileas had buried in the barn be enough to keep them from harming him?

Selia knew her brother well enough to sense his anger when he saw Alrik grope her breast. His breathing quickened a bit and his eyes grew dark. Furthermore, she was sure she had seen him exchange a glance with Ulfrik. But as usual, Ulfrik's face seemed expressionless to the point of boredom.

Hrefna had set up a bench for Ainnileas next to Ulfrik last night, on the far side of the room from where Ingrid slept. Clearly the woman was reluctant to allow the young foreigner to sleep close to Ingrid, regardless of how charming he was. Or perhaps because of it.

But this had allowed Ainnileas to have access to Ulfrik all night. He thought he had an ally in Ulfrik, a man he assumed hated Alrik as much as he; a risky assumption if incorrect.

Ingrid’s face had grown red at her father’s disparaging remarks about her cousin Bolli. But she stayed quiet. Either she was being mindful of Alrik’s threat to send her away, or she was actually trying to impress Ainnileas with her calm demeanor. Males appreciated tranquility in a future wife.

"Why don't you have Bolli show you his skill before you decide?" Ingrid addressed her father but her eyes remained downcast.

Hrefna brightened and turned to Alrik. "We could have a gathering, just as we used to. You could watch the boy during the games to decide if he's ready for the oath-taking. And if he's not, then no harm done."

Alrik growled, "I have no patience for a gathering."

She continued on, undeterred. "We have plenty of ale, and cheese and butter. We could slaughter one of the bulls and a few pigs."

"Did you not hear me, woman?"

Hrefna smiled. "We could celebrate your marriage, Alrik. Ainnileas could play his whistle for everyone, and Selia could sing."

Selia sat up straighter and shook her head firmly. "No, I will not sing."

Ainnileas seemed to understand at least this much of the conversation, and he laughed aloud, nearly choking on his porridge. To her dismay everyone-except for Alrik, of course, whose frown only deepened-laughed right along with him. Not one of them knew why they were laughing, but Ainnileas' laugh was contagious.

She glared at her brother and attempted to kick him under the table. Her foot hit Olaf by mistake and his surprised grunt made everyone laugh harder.

Alrik stood and regarded his family contemptuously. “I’m going back to bed,” he grumbled. “You fools can do whatever you want.”

Hrefna didn't wait for her nephew to have a chance to change his mind. She sent Olaf away in one of the little boats, with a message for the war band of the gathering in ten day's time in celebration of their leader's marriage. Selia didn't have the heart to tell the woman that during the time she had spent sailing from Ireland to Norway, Alrik’s men had seemed to despise her more and more by the day. Why would they possibly want to celebrate any event related to her?

Hrefna was beside herself with excitement as she and Selia left the house together. Selia had to quicken her steps to keep up with her.

“What is a gathering, Hrefna?”

Hrefna smiled. “A celebration that happens every summer. There is feasting and drinking, and contests of skill. It’s a time for young people to meet and for old disputes to be settled. Everyone attends-the men, their wives, their children. And Kolgrima will come as well. I haven’t seen my grandchildren in far too long.”

“They could not attend last year?”

“There was no gathering last year. Alrik wouldn’t hear of it after . . .” Hrefna paused. “Well, after.”

Selia nodded. Of course he wouldn’t have agreed to a gathering so soon after his first wife and younger daughters had died.

“But why wouldn’t he want to have a gathering this year?” Selia asked.

Hrefna turned to her. “He is still so melancholy. We must help him, Selia. You and I. Alrik is a good leader in battle, and generous with the spoils of war. But there is more to being the Hersir than leading a war band. He has been neglecting his other duties. A gathering will right many wrongs in the eyes of his men.”

Selia followed Hrefna into the dairy to count the inventory of cheese and butter, thinking the shelves looked as though they could easily get the family through the winter and well into spring. But Hrefna frowned and bit her lip. She didn't look pleased.

How many people could they expect? The thirty men, their wives, and several children apiece, plus the thralls that each family would bring along with them . . . that could equal a crowd of two hundred people. The size of an entire village. Selia felt a bit lightheaded herself at the idea of feeding a crowd that large for days on end.

She looked up at Hrefna's pale face, squeezing her hand. "We could send Ainnileas out on one of the small boats. He likes to fish. And maybe Alrik and Ulfrik will hunt."

"Yes." Hrefna gave a nod. "We will gorge them on meat and bread, and they'll never miss the rest."

"There are also seven vats of wine in the alehouse." Selia quashed the pang of guilt at the memory of the sailors murdered in the name of obtaining that wine. "If we get them drunk, they will not care about the food."

Hrefna laughed, beaming down at her. "My, you are a clever girl."

They walked to the barns to count the number of livestock that could reasonably be slaughtered. Selia was again struck at the sheer size of the longhouse as she saw it from a distance, and she turned to Hrefna.

"Is that why the house is so big? For the gatherings?" The dozens of unfilled sleeping benches in the large main room of the house would at least be put to use for a short time.

"No. Although it does help. Believe me, after everyone arrives, you won't be able to walk through the house without stepping on someone. We usually have the women and children sleep in the house, and set up tents outside for the men. They stay up half the night drinking, anyway."

Hrefna paused as if lost in thought for a moment. "In the time of Ragnarr, the house was filled with his men. That is the way most Hersirs live, surrounded by many of their own men. Typically the unmarried ones or the younger sons without land of their own. When Ragnarr was alive a dozen of his men also lived here."

Selia raised her eyebrows at this. Thank goodness Alrik had chosen not to continue the tradition. She had spent quite enough time surrounded by loud, sweaty, frequently drunken men while traveling with them, and had no desire to continue that on a daily basis.

"When Ragnarr killed my sister and nephew, Geirr came with his own men to slay Ragnarr,” Hrefna said. “You see, each member of the Hersir's war band swears a blood-oath to protect him at all costs, even to the point of sacrificing his own life if necessary. A man who turns on his Hersir or who runs from battle is considered an oath breaker, and will be an outcast for the rest of his life. Geirr assumed he and his men would need to cut through Ragnarr's men to get to him."

Hrefna paused for a moment as she bent over to check on the hoof of one of the sheep. "But they didn't need to," she continued. "The men parted to let him through, and several of them even joined Geirr in cutting Ragnarr down."

"What about the oath?"

"Ragnarr's madness was a threat to the group as a whole. He had become dangerous, completely unstable. They recognized he wasn't the same leader they had sworn their oaths to. They knew he had to be stopped."

So that was why Alrik didn't want his men to live here. He could keep his mood swings in check-more or less-for short time periods while going a-viking with his men. His berserker nature would have an outlet in battle, giving him the physical release he needed. But for Alrik's violent tendencies to emerge at a time other than battle would be considered much less acceptable to his men. The beating of Skagi was just such an incident.

Selia scratched one of the sheep on the head and didn't look at Hrefna. "So Alrik is afraid if his men live here, they might kill him?"

"I think so, although he's never admitted it. We overlook his behavior more than an outsider would be able to. But there are times, usually in the winter, when he becomes so despondent, so hateful, no one can bear to be around him. I think he fears his men seeing him like that."

"I understand."

Hrefna hesitated. "My child, I'm not quite sure if you do. This, right now, is his best time. It gets much, much worse."