The Pagan's Prize (40 page)

"Half of Rus, to be divided along the course of
the Dnieper River. I will retain the side with Novgorod and Kiev, while everything
else will be yours."

Zora glanced at her father to find him pondering
Yaroslav's words while his retainers whispered to each other behind him. If at
first Mstislav had been surprised, now his narrowed eyes were shrewd.

"Only half, my brother? After my victory today—"

"A narrow victory that could have easily gone to
my favor!" interrupted Yaroslav, his face flushed red with anger. "Think
carefully before you allow your greed to overwhelm you, Mstislav. My forces are
still strong enough to fight, as are yours, yet a lengthy war will only deplete
much needed men and resources. Meanwhile our enemies abound, barbaric nomads in
the east, neighboring Slavs to the west, and Patzinaks in the south, all of
them watching like carrion crows for any sign of weakness so they can swoop
down and attack. If we fail to form an alliance this night, neither of us will
have the forces left to fight them."

Again a charged silence reigned, everyone waiting upon
Mstislav's answer. Zora knew her father to be an ambitious man, yet the wisdom
behind the grand prince's argument could not be discounted. Wondering what path
he would choose, she was distracted by a side door opening nearby.
 
Her heart skipped a beat as Hermione entered
the hall in a swirl of purple silk.

Their eyes met. From the agitation in her half sister's
gaze, Zora realized that Hermione must have heard of her arrival and come at
once from the
terem
. Yet Zora found
herself abruptly dismissed as Hermione scanned the hall for someone, her
porcelain features soon registering her disappointment.

Ivan. She was looking for Ivan, Zora thought, struck by
a sudden wave of pity. But it faded when Hermione fixed a gaze of icy hatred
upon her as if daring her to say a word about the truth behind her abduction.

"Very well, my brother, I agree to your
compromise. Half of Rus, with my throne to remain here in Chernigov."

Zora's attention turned back to her father, who had
left the dais to clasp hands solemnly with Yaroslav. As scribes were called
forth to prepare the necessary documents, a great swell of conversation erupted
among those present that only heightened as the huge double doors at the end of
the hall swung open to admit a line of chained prisoners.

Rising shakily, Zora had never known such a clash of
hope and fear. Mother of Christ, where was Rurik? She counted five warriors,
then eight, but he was nowhere among them. Oh, please, please, tell her it wasn't
so . . .

"Rurik!"

Spying him suddenly in a second group of prisoners, his
bright blond hair like a beacon in the torchlight, Zora's hoarse cry echoed
around the hall. She wanted to run to him but her father's dark glance kept her
rooted in place. With her heart pounding as hard as any drum, she watched
impatiently as a path was opened for Rurik and the other prisoners. Her eyes
drank in the sight of him.

He was limping, dried blood streaking his left leg, but
he appeared sound. Even the cold hardness of his gaze could not dampen her joy.
Imagining what must be going through his mind to see her standing on the dais,
she could no longer heed her father's warning. She hurried down the steps as
the prisoners were made to halt in a line behind the grand prince. "Zora .
. ."

Ignoring Mstislav's angry voice, she moved undaunted to
Rurik's side, warmed by the astonishment in his eyes. Yet she said nothing to
him, boldly facing her father and his retainers instead.

"Hear me, all of you! This is my husband, Lord
Rurik of Novgorod, the man I love more than life. I will see no harm come to
him!" She glanced at Rurik, her voice breaking. "Can you find it in
your heart to believe me now?"

Shaken by her pronouncement, Rurik had never felt more
humbled, the plea shining in Zora's eyes chasing all doubt and bitterness from
his mind. And here he had been thinking the worst of her up until a moment ago,
thinking how happy she must be now that she would finally be free of him!

By Odin, he had not only been a fool, but a blind one!
That she could still want him after everything he had done, everything he had
said . . .

"No harm will come to him, my daughter, that I
swear," Mstislav interjected before Rurik could answer her. "But your
marriage to this man must be annulled. I gave my word to Lord Ivan that you
would become his bride. He went in search of you to Novgorod. I can only
believe that he must still be there—"

"He's not in Novgorod, Father," said Zora,
sickened that he would even suggest to end her marriage. "I have so much
to tell you . . . I don't know where to start. Ivan did find me and I agreed to
return to Chernigov with him, but only because I thought it would be a way to
help my husband if he had need of me after the battle. Then Ivan and his men
were murdered by thieves at one of the portage trails. I managed to escape but—"

"Ivan is dead?"

Zora spun to find Hermione standing only a few feet
away, her lovely face stricken with horror.

"Ivan is dead?" Her voice was shrill and her
gaze skipped from Zora to Rurik to her father and then back to Zora.

"Yes. I'm truly sorry, Hermi—"

Her words were cut off by a howl of such rage that Zora
felt a shiver of fear.

"You spawn of a whore! Bastard filth! If I've lost
my only love, I'll find myself in hell before you have yours!"

Zora saw the flash of a knife at the same moment
Hermione lunged wildly for Rurik.

"No!" Without a thought, she hurled herself
against him, blocking Hermione's attack with her body even as she felt Rurik
trying to shove her out of harm's way.

"By God! Zora!"

Hampered by his chains, he was too late. She met his
eyes as the blade sank into her flesh and she screamed once while all around
them became confusion. People were shouting, her father and uncle were
shouting, Hermione demanding hysterically that her captors release her. Then
Zora felt her knees buckle beneath her and she was sinking, even though Rurik
held her in his arms. Oh, it hurt. It hurt so much.

"Zora! God help me, Zora!"

She knew he was calling to her but she couldn't answer,
her tongue grown thick and heavy. She saw him lift his hand from her side to
find blood dripping through his fingers, and his face went deathly pale.
Through a ringing that was growing louder in her ears, she could hear Hermione
ranting at her as if from a great distance, her piercing voice becoming fainter
and fainter.

"Bastard whore! Bitch! I should have poisoned you
instead of selling you to that cursed slaver! I should have killed you when I
had the chance!"

That was the last thing she heard as blackness rose up
to meet her, releasing her at last from the pain.

Chapter 30

"Rurik . . . ?" Her eyelids feeling like
leaden weights, Zora turned her head to one side and whispered more loudly this
time. "Rurik?"

"No, daughter, it's me," came a familiar
voice, a large warm hand covering hers.

"Father?" Struck by sudden foreboding, Zora
opened her eyes to find Mstislav seated next to the bed, his image blurred and
fuzzy. She tried to raise herself on her elbows but immediately fell back,
wincing at the sharp pain in her side. "You haven't sent him away, have
you? You haven't sent Rurik away—"

"Sshh, Zora, he's in the other room. I finally convinced
him to allow the physician to attend to his leg. He's a stubborn one, that
Varangian of yours. It's the first time he's stepped away from your bed since
we brought you here last night."

"Last night?" She was answered with a nod,
her father's face gradually becoming more focused. His expression was somber
and he looked weary, as if he had gotten little sleep.
 
Yet his gray-blue eyes held the affection she
had always known there.

"You gave us a scare, daughter, one I hope never
to relive. Seeing you lying here so pale, the healers doing everything they
knew to help you . . ." Mstislav sighed heavily and fell silent, adding
after a long moment, "It reminded me of when your mother fell ill . . .
except that time, nothing could be done—"

He seemed to choke and he looked away, but not for
long. Meeting her eyes again, he squeezed her hand, a faint smile touching his
lips.

"You'll be up from this bed in no time, or so I've
been promised. Fortunately the knife did not go deep but glanced off your ribs.
Yet you lost a lot of blood—"

"My babe?" Zora broke in, beset by fear.

"The child still thrives within you, daughter,"
came his reassuring reply. "I only regret that I'll not be there at its
birth, for you will be far away in Novgorod."

Her eyes widening, Zora stared at him incredulously.
But before she could say anything, he went on.

"I had much time to think during the night and
knowing as I do now of everything that happened to you, I cannot in good
conscience break apart a marriage that God has ordained. If Lord Rurik had not
been at that trading camp, no matter that he had been sent to spy against me .
. ." Again, Mstislav had to pause for the quaver in his voice and this
time, it was Zora who clasped his hand.

"I love him, Father. More than I could ever say."

He exhaled slowly, nodding. "I know this, Zora.
Your courageous act last night could not have proved it more clearly. I loved
once, too, but could not marry the woman who captured my heart. It is a pain I
have never overcome, and I do not wish such suffering for you. You and Lord
Rurik have my blessing."

Swept with elation, Zora could only smile her thanks.
Yet she sobered at the thought that suddenly came to her and she asked softly, "What
of Hermione?"

Mstislav's expression hardened, but it also held regret.
"I've banished her to a convent in Tmutorokan until I decide what else is
to be done with her. I cannot forgive her for her cruel treachery toward you,
but she, too, has suffered. I never loved her mother, and though I tried to
treat both of you equally, Hermione must have sensed that you were the joy of
my heart. I've never heard such bitterness as she spewed at me last night. I
fear Ivan's death has driven her half mad."

Neither of them spoke for several moments, their shared
silence a pained one. Finally Mstislav gently stroked her cheek.

"Your sister's troubles are not your fault, Zora,
and I will not have you blame yourself. This is my cross to bear." He gave
her hand a last reassuring squeeze, then he rose and moved to the door. "I
will tell your husband that you are awake—"

"I already know, my lord." Rurik stepped into
the room, not caring that his voice had gone hoarse. His gaze flew to Zora's
face. Just to see her conscious again, her beautiful eyes anxious and yet so
full of hope, made his chest swell with gratitude. He was certain at that
moment that the gods must be smiling. "I've been waiting outside until you
finished . . . not an easy task."

Becoming oblivious to all else but her, Rurik was
scarcely aware that Prince Mstislav had left them, nor did he recall walking to
the bed and kneeling beside it. It seemed that suddenly he was there. Reaching
out his hand, Rurik touched her tawny hair with shaking fingers.

"I feared . . ." His voice caught. Swallowing
hard, he began again, not caring that his eyes were blinded by tears. "I
feared that I wasn't going to have the chance to tell you that I love you,
Princess. God forgive me for being such a fool, I love you!"

Zora's heart was too full for her to speak, but she
didn't need words. Her own eyes brimming, she took his battle-scarred hand in
hers and pressed her lips to his palm.

She knew it had been enough when he smiled, then bent
his head and kissed her.

About the Author

Miriam
Minger is the award-winning, critically acclaimed author of ten historical
romances.
 
She also writes inspirational
romantic thrillers as M.C. Walker, and is the co-author of the popular Little
Mike and Maddie series of children’s picture books about a lovable pair of dogs
and their motorcycle adventures.
 

Historical Romances by Miriam Minger:

Twin Passions

Stolen Splendor

A Hint of Rapture

Captive Rose

Defiant Impostor

The Pagan’s
Prize

Wild Angel

Secrets of Midnight

My Runaway Heart (sequel to Secrets of
Midnight)

Wild Roses (sequel to Wild Angel)

Inspirational Romantic Thrillers by M.C. Walker:

Blood Son

Children’s Picture Books by Miriam Aronson:

Little Mike and Maddie’s First Motorcycle
Ride

Little Mike and Maddie’s Black Hills
Adventure

Little Mike and Maddie’s Christmas Book

For information about the
above titles, visit
www.walkerpublishing.net
or write to
[email protected]
.