The Viking's Witch (21 page)

He stroked his beard and sighed. After he finished with Brennan, he would have to find Odaria and speak with her—if she had calmed herself. He didn’t intend to start another argument with her, but she acted so damn pigheaded about everything. Why hadn’t she come to him for help when she’d needed it?

He closed his eyes. Then again, what must she think of him after his drunken ramblings? He was an adulterer, a liar, and an impotent, spineless fool.

Time and tragedy had weakened him. He certainly didn’t feel like the brawling fighter that he used to be. Thoughts of swordfights or sea voyages never entered his mind anymore. Nowadays he was content to remain on his farm and tend to his animals.

A shrill scream from beneath the floor snapped him from his thoughts. There would be time enough to tend to his farm with Odaria at his side, but now he must embrace his old ways.

He turned from the doorway and strolled into the church. Brennan and Nordskog waited for him down below. Now was the time to dig down deep and once again become Rothgar the Ruthless. It was the only way to get what he wanted.

He ducked as he entered the large room beneath the church. After he had devised his plan with Nordskog this morning, he’d come down here to see this room for himself. The ceiling was low, and he had to bend over to keep from striking his head as he walked around. A thick stone table stood in the center of the room. What did Brennan use it for? Sacrifices?

This was where Brennan had held Odaria prisoner and tortured her for a fortnight. It seemed only fitting that he put Brennan through the same hell that he’d forced upon Odaria. He frowned. How
could a supposed man of God do that to an innocent young woman? Especially to his own daughter? He was starting to believe that Brennan suffered from a religious madness as Odaria had said.

Nordskog had lit several candles and oil lanterns around the room. Shadows flickered against the walls, casting the chamber in an eerie glow. A wooden bench sat tucked away in the corner. A thick leather whip, a bucket of seawater, and a small hatchet had been placed on the bench. Brennan was stripped naked and tied spread-eagled to the stone slab.

Rothgar bent over him. “Are you comfortable? Does this seem familiar to you?”

Brennan struggled feebly against the ropes. Rothgar smirked. Days without food or water had weakened him. Perhaps his questioning would not be as difficult as he’d thought.

“Tell me, Brennan. Is it worth it? Is it worth it to see your entire village destroyed because you refuse to tell me what I wish to know?” He paused and waited to see if Brennan would answer. He remained silent.

“Did you enjoy the weather we had yesterday? I find it odd how these storms suddenly rise up when Odaria becomes displeased. Did the same thing happen when her mother grew upset?”

Brennan’s mouth dropped open a little, and he smirked.

Rothgar continued. “Odaria seems rather interested in you, Brennan. If I hadn’t stopped her, she would have roasted you and everyone else alive.” He leaned close. “Tell me, is that what you wish? To see your village in ruin because you are too stubborn to give me what I want?”

“Go to hell.” Brennan spit in his face.

Nordskog drove his fist straight into Brennan’s crotch. Brennan screamed. The ropes binding him tightened around his wrists and ankles as he writhed in pain.

Rothgar looked at Nordskog. He had instructed him to soften Brennan to make him talk but made it clear that he was not to be killed. “Easy, Nordskog. He’s merely a Pict. His man-parts are not made of steel as ours are.”

Nordskog laughed.

He leaned over Brennan again and saw tears welling in his green eyes. “Listen to me. I want Orvind. Tell me where he is, and we will take him and leave. It’s that simple.”

“I’ll tell you nothing,” Brennan snarled between gasps for breath. “You are under the spell of that devil-whore.”

He backhanded Brennan hard across the face. The gold and ruby ring he wore sliced through Brennan’s cheek, and it started bleeding.

“Perhaps I should bring Odaria down here for a visit. You have tortured her, tried to burn her alive, set fire to her cottage, and killed her cat. What do you think she would do to you if given the chance?” He let out a deep, throaty laugh as Brennan’s eyes widened. “
Ja
, she would not hesitate to kill you. She hates you down to her soul. Tell me, why do you despise her so?”

“Odaria’s a filthy whore, as was her mother.”

Rothgar smacked Brennan again. His head bounced off the stone slab, and his eyes rolled up in his head.

“And what of her mother? Odaria tells me that she was not the product of a joyful union. Who do you think sired the witch, eh? Certainly no self-righteous man of God would force himself on a helpless woman—”

“That whore was not helpless. She parted her legs for every man in the village.”

“Except you, eh? Perhaps she showered favors on all but you. Is that why you took her by force? Or did you hope she would do herself in, out of shame? And what happened after? Did she hex you? Take away the use of your manhood?”

Brennan gaped at him. “How do you—?”

“I know many things. Odaria and I have had long talks about you and what you have done in this village.” He grinned. “Over the years, your hatred for her has grown into madness. You hid behind your religion and used it to punish Odaria’s mother. Odaria told me her mother went missing soon after the trouble with you started.”

Rothgar cocked his head. “Did she threaten to tell everyone in the village that you sired Odaria? Is that why you killed her? You couldn’t risk the shame of your crime being found out?”

“That bitch deserved what happened to her. She plagued us all.”

He nodded. So his guess was right. Brennan was nothing but a madman who hid behind his religion and ordered his followers to do his bidding. Some righteous man of God he’d turned out to be.

“What do you think Odaria would do to you if she knew you were her father? After what she did yesterday, I cannot imagine the full force of her hatred directed at you. Perhaps I ought to invite her in, tell her what I know, and let her take her revenge. After all you’ve done to her, she is entitled.”

“You are under the witch’s spell. She goes against God and all that’s holy. She—”

“She told me how you killed an innocent
bairn
in front of her. How holy does that make you?” He paused and glanced at Nordskog. He knew Nordskog didn’t understand what was being said, but he was watching everything intently.

“You turned the village against her and her mother because you feared them. They made the others question you and your church, and you did not like losing control over them, eh? You fed off their fears, telling them your God would burn them in hell for this or that. But what of your soul? Does your God approve of a devoted servant raping and murdering to serve his needs?”

“God will protect me from Odaria’s evil spells. She is the devil’s whore, sent here to test our faith.”

He unsheathed his silver dagger and waved it under Brennan’s nose. “There are worse evils in this village than Odaria. I can do more damage to you in one hour than you could ever imagine.”

He brought the tip of the dagger directly under Brennan’s left eye and couldn’t help but notice once again the telltale gold flecks in them. “If I give the order,” Rothgar said, “my men will slaughter every villager and be halfway home before their blood dries. Do not fear Odaria ordering up the wind and rain to dash you about.
Fear us.
We are deadlier than anything a witch could conjure.”

Brennan let out a tiny whimper.

Rothgar grinned. Good. Brennan was afraid of him. If he could intimidate Brennan into telling him where Orvind was, then he wouldn’t have to resort to torture.

“Until now, I have been fair to the villagers. That all ends soon. I control a hundred men who thirst for women and bloodsport. I have kept them sated but no longer will do so. If you do not tell me where you have hidden Orvind, I will unleash the fury of my men upon the villagers. The gods will weep for their souls.”

Brennan’s eyes widened, and he swallowed hard.

“As they die, I will make certain that they know you could have spared them their bloody fate but refused. Think of it, Brennan. Your people are suffering, and you have the power to save them. They have no food or water in the nets. What will they think of you when I tell them that it is your fault they are not free? That you are keeping them held in misery because you refuse to talk?”

He paused and sheathed his dagger. “My bargain is simple. Give me Orvind, and I will go away. Refuse, and everyone dies. You have my word on that. You do not wish to test me.”

Brennan lifted his head off the table and glared at him. “You are doing the witch’s bidding. I shall tell you nothing while you are in league with her. The devil’s mistress has cast a spell upon you. I should have killed her outright, as I had killed her whore of a mother. Odaria shall burn in hell for her crimes against God.”

Rothgar smacked Brennan hard in the mouth again, but he continued ranting.

“Make all the threats you wish. I fear you not, vile pagan. You and that witch go against all that is holy, and you shall be punished for your heresy. God shall spare me and my loyal villagers from your onslaught. No harm can come to me while I believe in him.”

Rothgar smirked and arched an eyebrow. He could easily ignore the weak threats and religious ramblings that Brennan spewed out, but his self-righteous tone annoyed him.

“Is that so? Then let’s find out, shall we?” He looked at Nordskog. “Hand me the whip.”

Chapter Ten

Odaria leaned against the doorjamb and watched the festivities taking place outside. The side door of the gathering hall gave her an excellent view of the wild party. Everywhere she looked, Norsemen were dancing, drinking, and eating. She longed to join in the fun. Everyone else seemed to be having a great time, except her.

Although she hadn’t seen Rothgar since their argument earlier this afternoon, she didn’t dare venture out-of-doors. She had decided not to risk his wrath by wandering around outside at night again. For once, she had obeyed his wishes, and look where it had gotten her? She hadn’t been invited to the party. She pouted and blinked back tears. Nobody cared about her. Once again, she was treated like an outsider and forgotten.

Where was Rothgar now? Was he at the party celebrating the raid on Vestrey with the rest of the Norsemen? Most likely. He was probably having so much fun without her that he hadn’t even noticed she wasn’t there. But after the cruel things she’d said to him, who could blame him for not wanting to be around her?

She hadn’t meant to hurl those hurtful words at him, but she’d been angry. And Rothgar hadn’t helped matters by shouting at her and then storming off. Now he was probably so furious with her that he wouldn’t bring her home with him. Why would he want to, anyway? She never listened, she always caused trouble for him, and she’d said all those horrible things … What man would want a woman who behaved like that?

She glanced at the nearly full moon, then closed her eyes. “If I had another chance, a way of makin’ it right, I would,” she whispered.

The snap of a twig caught her attention, and she opened her eyes. To her surprise, Rothgar was walking toward her. She smoothed her hair and stepped back into the gathering hall as he barged through the doorway.

“I wasna goin’ anywhere, I swear it. I was merely standing there getting a breath of air and lookin’ around. I—”

“Come inside and sit down. I wish to speak with you.”

“I canna. Your—”

“Why must you always act so contrary? I came here to—”

“I’m not bein’ contrary.” She rushed through the cookroom and opened the door to the main room. “See for yourself. ’Tis empty. An hour ago, your friends came in and cleared out everything.” She waved in all directions of the barren room. “See? They took every chair, all the benches, the table, and every stick of wood I had for the fire. All the pitchers, jugs, and bowls are gone. They made off with every morsel of food and drink up here and down below. There’s nothing left.”

Rothgar nodded. “They need many supplies. It is a big celebration and everyone has been invited to join in.”

“Not everyone,” she muttered, bowing her head.

“
Ja
, everyone. That is why I came for you, witch. Even you are invited.”

She snapped her head up. “Me? Why would they invite me to their party? I thought they didna like me and were afraid of me.”

Rothgar shrugged. “I think a day off this isle improved their moods and cleared their heads. Karnik’s men made certain to invite me and told me to bring you as well. Perhaps they are trying to make amends.”

She smiled. “Good. Let’s go. I’ve never been to such a party before,” she said as she headed to the door.

Rothgar clasped her arm and held her back. “Not yet, little witch. I wish to speak with you first. Sit down.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Rothgar wanted to talk to her? About what? From his serious tone, she knew he was still angry about their argument. Was he going to tell her that he wasn’t taking her home with him? Perhaps if she delayed their conversation, Rothgar would reconsider and not leave her stranded behind. “There’s nowhere to sit. Why don’t we talk outside or wait until morn?”

“I will not wait. Come here.” Rothgar guided her to the staircase and sat her down on the third step. He knelt in front of her.

She folded her hands in her lap and bowed her head. Her stomach felt as if it were tied in a knot. All her instincts warned her that this would not be a pleasant conversation.

Rothgar took a deep breath, then spoke. “If I bring you home with me, will you always be so jealous of other women?”

She raised her head and looked at him. “What? I don’t under—”

“If you see me speaking to a woman on the street, are you going to become enraged and conjure storms?”

“Nay, of course not. I—”

“Then why are you so damn jealous of Gretta? She’s gone, Odaria. Nothing will ever bring her back.”

She stared at her hands and felt her cheeks grow warm. How could she have acted so jealous over a woman who posed no threat to her? “I know that.”

Rothgar cupped her chin in his hand and lifted her head, forcing her to look into his icy-blue eyes. “Tell me, why are you so jealous of her?”

She licked her lips and decided to tell Rothgar the truth. “Gretta was your wife, and she bore you your first child—a son. Your first son.” She shook her head. “No matter what I ever do, I shall never be able to give that to you. It was something special that I can never match. That part of what you shared with her will always be there.”

Rothgar nodded. “I see.”

“I know you must have loved her a great deal, because you are still mourning for her. She was your perfect, pretty wife. You even said so. Gretta obeyed your orders and never caused troubles for you. I’ll never be like her. I’ll never be good enough.” She fought back her tears and swallowed the lump forming in her throat.

“Odaria, that’s not—”

“All I do is make trouble for you. Last night, I nearly got meself killed by goin’ for a walk. And you know I’m not a decent woman like Gretta. I curse and get into fights, and I have wicked, lustful thoughts that would make a man blush. I don’t rightly know how to behave like a proper woman, but I swear to you, I’ll change. From this moment on, I’ll be nice and act as sweet as honey. No matter what you say or do, I’ll never make another fuss like I did today. I’ll do everything I can to be like Gretta, and—”

Rothgar burst out laughing.

She bit her bottom lip and wiped her teary eyes with the back of her hand. “Why are you making fun of me? I meant every word of it,” she said, her voice cracking. “I’ve been thinking about this all evening. If I acted more like Gretta—”

“You could not be like Gretta if you tried.” Rothgar chuckled and wiped a lone tear from her cheek. “Oh, my little witch, I didn’t mean to make you weep.” He grinned. “I merely find it funny that
you
”—he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear—“would wish to be like
her
.”

“But why not? She was your wife.”

Rothgar gazed into her eyes and clasped her hand. “Let me explain. When I was married, I was hardly ever home. I would leave for months at a time—exploring, trading, raiding—when I came back, I stayed for a few weeks. But I would soon become restless and leave again when I could. Do you know why?”

“Because you like adventure?”

“Partially. But now I realize that I left because I grew listless. Gretta was kind, gentle, docile, and sweet. But for all of her fine wifely traits, she was dull. I grew bored with her.”

“You did?” She thought about Rothgar’s words for a moment. Even though he had explained, it still made no sense. Why would a man grow bored with such a perfect wife?

“
Ja
. Gretta was not terribly adventurous or interesting. She would never dream of doing the things you do. For Odin’s sake, she would never even dare to leave the house after sunset if I was not at her side.”

“Why not? Is it not safe in your village?”

“It was not that. Gretta feared the dark.” Rothgar stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “The two of you are like the sun and the moon. You are so different there is no comparing you. But it is a welcome change to find a strong woman who fears nothing. I could never grow bored with an interesting witch who casts spells, speaks her mind, and conjures storms, now could I?”

She smiled. “Nay, I suppose not.”

“
Gut
, then I believe this belongs to you.” Rothgar opened the leather pouch around his waist and withdrew the silver brooch. She closed her eyes as he pinned it to her dress just over her left breast.

“Now, if all is well between us, would you accompany me to the party?”

She wrapped her arms around Rothgar’s neck and hugged him tight. He was the first man who understood her and accepted her for what she was. She loved him, and she would be lost forever without him.

“Aye. Thank you for the brooch. I’m sorry about what I said this afternoon. I didna mean those cruel words. I—”

“It’s been forgotten.” He gave her a quick kiss and stood. “Now let’s hurry to the party before all the food is gobbled up. We don’t want to miss out on the fun. I believe it will be a most interesting evening, my little witch.”

Odaria glanced at Rothgar across the wide oak table. He sat a few feet away, playing a game with Sig and Haraldur. She wasn’t sure what the game was called, but they each took turns rolling bone dice and moving carved wooden pegs around a circular board. Rothgar’s gaze met hers, and he winked. Her heart fluttered, and she took another sip of wine from the silver chalice she held.

The party had been going full force for hours. Rothgar had told her that the men were celebrating their raid. They would be awake all night, eating, drinking, singing, and carousing like there was no tomorrow. He was right.

She gazed around the village square and tapped her foot in time with the flute music playing around her. Everywhere she looked, men were guzzling beer and mead from drinking horns, cooking meat over open fires, and playing games by firelight. Groups of men were arm wrestling at a nearby table, while others held tests of strength and tossed each other to the ground. Several men stood around a barrel of beer, holding a drinking contest.

To add to the chaos, Nordskog’s
berserkrs
ran around the tables chasing each other with swords and screaming battle cries. Their raucous behavior seemed harmless, but she noticed that Karnik’s men always cleared out of their way.

Off near a cook fire, two very drunk men had their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders and were singing their hearts out in Norse. She smiled. In all her life, she’d never seen such a party. Brennan had never allowed them to have any fun or celebrations like this in the village. All the villagers ever did was work and attend church services. Brennan had outlawed such games and frivolity, saying they encouraged the devil to walk among them.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Rothgar shouting in Norse. She glanced at him. He grinned and shook his head. Haraldur was laughing, and Sig held out his hand, palm open. Rothgar rose and opened the leather pouch dangling from his waist. He took out a small chunk of silver and dropped it into Sig’s hand. Sig chuckled and said something to Rothgar as he walked off.

She stood as Rothgar came toward her. “What happened?”

He rolled his eyes. “Sig beat me. I ought to know better than to make wagers on a foolish game. Are you hungry? I want some more pork.”

He draped his arm around her as they walked to one of several tables covered with food. Karnik’s men had returned from Vestrey in good spirits and with enough supplies to feed a thousand men. The table was laden with more food than she’d ever seen in her life—fish, crabs, lobsters, lamb, chicken, pork, beef, and even a seal had been captured and cooked up. Bowls of vegetables and eggs and plates of cheese were laid out anywhere there was room. Unopened barrels of beer, wine, and mead stood readily available. Everyone at the party alternated between plates heaped high with food and cups filled with drink.

She giggled as she refilled her silver chalice. This was fun. Now she understood why the Norsemen worked so hard without complaint—they played equally hard. Nordskog leapt onto the wooden bench next to her. He bent his head back, howled at the moon, then stared at her.

She cuddled closer to Rothgar. She hadn’t seen Nordskog since this morning, and she wasn’t sure if he and Rothgar were on speaking terms. “What is he doing?”

Rothgar bit into a pork rib and wiped his beard. “I think he’s about to make a speech.”

The music stopped, and everyone in the clearing turned to Nordskog. He raised a silver-rimmed drinking horn to the moon, said a few words, then bowed low before her. All the Norsemen burst out laughing and cheered. Nordskog gulped down the contents of his drinking horn, belched loudly, then leapt off the bench.

She looked at Rothgar, confused. “What did he say?”

Rothgar laughed. “He made a toast. ‘To the queen of the witches. May she bless what each of us has in our britches.’”

She batted him on the shoulder and felt her face flush. The Norsemen acted bawdy and crude at times, but she welcomed this bit of unrestrained fun.

Haraldur approached Rothgar and spoke to him for a moment. Rothgar laughed, then nudged her. “I have been challenged to lose another game.” He kissed her cheek. “Stay out of trouble while I’m gone.”

“Don’t be away too long, lest I get bored,” she teased.

She walked around the courtyard, swaying in time to the loud music. Who knew Norsemen could make such entertaining tunes? Although she had no idea what the songs were about, she liked the way they sounded. The flutes and drums were almost drowned out by the men singing and carrying on. The party was so loud that the villagers on Vestrey could probably hear the festivities.