The Viking's Witch (8 page)

He shook her shoulder lightly. “Odaria, wake up,” he whispered.

Odaria woke with a scream and sat straight up in bed. She clutched the quilt to her chest as she looked at him.

“Easy. You are safe. It was merely a dream.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Nay. That was no dream. That thing …” She started to cry. “It came after me, and I couldna get away.”

He drew her into his arms and held her. Poor girl. She’d been through so much in the short time he’d known her. What could he say to calm her fears?

“What was it?” Odaria pulled from his arms and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “That creature. I’ve never seen anything like it before. Where did it come from?”

He stood and crossed the room. Should he tell Odaria about the blood eagle? If she knew his fellow Nordmenn were responsible for creating it, she might hate him—if she didn’t hate him already. He took a silver cup off the chest of drawers and carried it to the bed. “Here, drink this.”

She took the cup in her shaking left hand and eyed him suspiciously. “What’s in it?”

“Rum and water. It will settle you.”

“’Twill take more than a bit of weak rum to settle me. I’ll not sleep for a month.” She sipped the drink. “Seeing that thing swinging from the post … If I had a weak heart, I woulda dropped dead where I stood.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor. The guilt over how he had treated Odaria still gnawed at him. She was his precious treasure, and yet in one morning he’d done everything possible to cause her to hate him. He wanted to make amends.

Odaria coughed and handed the cup back to him. “I canna drink no more. Me stomach’s not strong after seeing that … What was it?”

He shook his head. “Do not think of it. It cannot harm you.”

“How can I
not
think of it? When I came upon it, it was moaning and making the most dreadful sounds …”

“I’m so sorry you witnessed that.”

“Pray tell me. What is it? I kin understand it if you tell me what it is.”

He licked his lips and glanced at her. Odaria was a strong woman, and after everything that had happened to her today, she deserved to know the truth. “We call it a blood eagle.”

“A what? I’ve never heard of such a bird. What sort of creatures do you have in your land that something so horrible—”

“It was not a creature from our land.” He clasped her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It was a man.” He looked away. “One of your villagers.”

Odaria gasped and yanked her hand from his. “A man? How could that be?”

He stood and placed the silver cup on the chest of drawers. Although he had great courage in battle, he faltered whenever it came time to talk to a woman. Even when he’d been married, he had never fully understood females. One moment they acted helpless and frail. Then in the blink of an eye, they could tear out your throat.

He kept his back to Odaria. “After I brought you back here, I found Karnik. He told me that a man had escaped the nets and tried to kill one of our men. Karnik had him punished to set an example for the others.”

“By the stars … Your men are demons.”

A heavy silence hung between them. He wracked his mind for something to say that might ease the tension. He didn’t want Odaria to hate him for something Karnik had done.

“If there is anyone from the village, friends or family you wish spared, I can have them released from the nets and taken elsewhere.” He scratched his chin. “It is the least I can do for you.”

“Nay. There is no one.”

He crossed the room and stood near the bed. “Surely you have friends, brothers, sisters, a young man you fancy …”

Odaria’s mouth dropped open. “Are you daft? Last night the whole lot of ’em got together to burn me alive. I shall spare them nothing. Turn them all into blood eagles. ’Tis what they deserve.”

He cursed to himself. Dammit! How could he have forgotten her troubles with the villagers? “Is there not anyone? A relative—”

“Me mother was the only one who cared for me, and”—Odaria bit her bottom lip—“she’s gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean, gone? Where has she gone? Why did she leave you behind? Did she—”

“Stop asking me foolish questions.”

He heard a loud clunk and looked behind him. The silver cup he had placed on the chest of drawers was lying on the floor near the door. He stared at it for a second, puzzled. How had it gotten all the way over there? He hadn’t set it near the edge where it could topple over.

“I’m sorry,” Odaria said, wiping her eyes with the bedclothes. “But all I want is to wake up in me cottage and have all this be nothing but a bad dream.” She clutched his arm. “Pray forgive me for what I did downstairs. I didna mean to make you angry with me. Don’t let those men hurt me. Don’t let them turn me into a blood eagle.”

“
Hvat
?” In the name of Odin, is that what she thought would happen to her? “
Neinn
, Odaria, no one shall hurt you. I will not let them.”

“But you are one of them. You sailed here with the others. They are your friends.”

He shook his head. “I am not like Karnik’s men. Even years ago when I
fara-a-viking
, I was never as cruel as they are. Three summers ago, I gave up traveling and raiding. I only sailed here with them as a favor to my uncle. I need to find Orvind. When I leave here, I’m going home for good. I shall not venture away again.”

“But you were going to sell me because of what I did.”

“Never. Not for all the treasures in the world. You are too precious to me. I promise I shall bring you home with me, as we agreed.”

Odaria looked down, and he continued. “I acted like an animal in the cookroom. I lost my temper. I behaved no better than Karnik’s men. But if I could take it all back and behave differently, I would.” With his thumb, he wiped a tear off Odaria’s cheek. “After all you have suffered through today, pray let me make amends with you. Allow me to prove that I am not like the others.”

He walked to the chest of drawers. “While you were sleeping, I went to my ship and brought back gifts for you,” he said as he placed the silver cup back on the dresser.

“Gifts? For me?”

“
Ja
. Come see.” He lifted his blue canvas bag off the floor and rummaged through it. Would Odaria like the presents he had selected for her? They were not fancy, but he had nothing aboard the ship designed for a woman. He pulled a handful of items out of the sack and arranged them on the chest of drawers.

He glanced up as Odaria climbed out of bed and wrapped his cloak around her. A wave of guilt washed over him as he recalled tearing her chemise and shoving her to the floor. How could he have acted like such a fiend?

As Odaria stepped to his side, he opened a leather pouch and showed her the contents. “These are grooming supplies. A comb, tooth sticks, ear cleaners, and tweezers. I brought you fresh soap and linens to wash with.”

She picked up the pewter tooth stick. “What does this do?”

“We use it with this.” He handed her a rough cloth and a small jar made of green glass. She held the jar up to the window and tapped it. “What’s inside?”

“Tooth powder. It is fashioned from a root and mixed with mint leaves. Pour some on a wet cloth and scrub your teeth with it. The stick is to dig out bits of meat and bread from between the teeth.”

“It seems a bit of a bother. I clean my teeth with sea salt and a green twig.” She pointed at a large red jar. “And that?”

“Perfumed oil. To smell good between baths.” He uncorked the top, offered it to her, and she sniffed. “It is a scent for men, blended with strong spices. At home, the women use a gentler scent, with oils brewed from flowers.”

He smiled at Odaria. Despite his best efforts to please her, she did not seem impressed. What more could he do to win her trust?

“I also brought this for you to wear.” He took a dark blue wool tunic from the bag and held it up for her to see. Would she like it? Intricate swirled patterns were sewn around the edges in silver thread. “It goes with the brooch I gave you.”

Odaria looked at the tunic and frowned. “It shan’t fit me.”

“It will, see?” He held it up in front of her. “It hangs to my knees and shall be a dress on you.” He handed it to her. “Try it on.”

She shook her head. “I appreciate your gifts, but I canna wear that.”

He sighed. “I’m trying to be kind. I’m sorry I tore your chemise, but you cannot wear my cloak with nothing beneath. Pray, take the tunic.”

“I suppose it is the sensible thing to do. Turn ’round.”

He turned his back to Odaria and closed his eyes. Had he gotten through to her? She no longer seemed tearful and frightened, but now she was acting too quiet for his liking. Perhaps she was still overwhelmed at seeing the blood eagle. Didn’t she understand that he was trapped here as well? He wanted to go home, but he couldn’t leave without Orvind.

“See? I canna wear it.”

He turned around. The sharp V-neck of the tunic left Odaria’s breasts mostly exposed, but it covered her to her ankles. She tried to hold the front of the tunic closed, but the long sleeves came down past her hands, covering them.

“If I move, me whole front will fall out.”

He grinned. “So I see.” He reached into his canvas bag and pulled out a long leather thong. “Hold still and I shall bind it shut.”

Odaria closed her eyes as he threaded the piece of thin leather through the holes in the front of the tunic. Standing this close to her reminded him of how vulnerable she’d been in the cookroom.

His fingertips brushed against Odaria’s soft breast, and she gasped. The innocent touch sent a warm tingle through his groin, and he swallowed hard. By the gods, now was not the time to become aroused. But Odaria was a fetching sight. Never before had a man’s tunic ever looked so attractive.

The midnight-blue color complemented Odaria’s fair skin and dark wavy hair. The silver embroidery along the front accented her ample bosom, and the tunic clung to her curvy hips. He finished lacing it and cleared his throat. Odaria opened her eyes and stared up at him. Did she feel the same powerful attraction between them that he did?

“I do not have much success with women. But I pray this proves to you that …”

Odaria rose up onto her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and he let out a low groan.

“Odaria, what—?”

A pounding on the door interrupted him. “Rothgar, we have the man you seek,” Haraldur called out through the door.

He sighed. Dammit to hell. Did they have to disturb him now?

“
Ja,
I’ll be there in a minute.” Odaria looked so sweet and kissable. He longed to touch her but held back. He didn’t want to risk making her angry with him again. “I must go.”

Odaria gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “Despite all that has happened, I know you are a good man.” She rested her head against his chest and squeezed him tight. “Pray take me home with you.”

Haraldur pounded on the door again. “Karnik said to call you at once.”

He forced himself to pull away. “I will. I promise.” He stroked her hair, then moved to the door. “There’s plenty of food downstairs. Come eat when you are ready.”

“I shall.”

He opened the door and glanced over his shoulder. Odaria was admiring the stitchery on his tunic. It pained him to leave her when they had just made amends, but he had to speak with Brennan. The sooner he found Orvind, the sooner he could take Odaria home—to be his bride.

Chapter Five

Rothgar glanced across the table at Brennan and sighed. So far, this questioning was not going as he’d planned.

Nearly an hour ago, he had come downstairs and found Brennan tied to a chair, hurling insults at Haraldur and the other men in the room. Had it not been for Odaria’s information about Brennan, he would have mistaken him for nothing more than a poor fisherman. Brennan was thin, middle-aged, and aside from his flaming-red hair, looked the same as any other villager. This man had been chosen as their leader? Why? He wasn’t special. If anything, he appeared pathetic and weak.

He had hoped that his size would intimidate Brennan into answering his questions quickly, but he’d hoped wrong. Despite all his efforts to get him to talk, Brennan remained stubborn and refused to cooperate. Were all the Picts on this isle so headstrong?

Rothgar leaned back in the chair and gazed around the room. Sig and Haraldur sat by the fire, talking and polishing their swords. The large table was covered with trays, cups, pitchers, and bowls left from the midday meal. He reached across the table and filled his drinking horn with beer.

“Thirsty?” he asked Brennan.

“Go back to hell, pagan devil,” Brennan snarled, glaring at him.

He sipped his
bjorr
and studied Brennan for a moment. Their leader or not, he knew Brennan must be feeling miserable. He had been crammed into a fishing net with a dozen or more people for nearly a full day and night. His red-rimmed eyes were puffy from lack of sleep, and he’d been given enough water only to wet his throat.

What would it take to break through Brennan’s wall of silence? He rubbed his beard and mulled over the situation. The use of force was out of the question. If he allowed Karnik’s men to torture Brennan into telling him where Orvind was, they could end up killing him.

“Haraldur, untie him from the chair, but leave his hands bound,” he ordered in Norse.

Haraldur rose from his seat near the fire and carried out his command. Brennan sat motionless as Haraldur untied his torso, then cinched the rope tight around his wrists.

“Comfortable?” Rothgar asked.

Brennan sneered.

He chuckled. Did Brennan expect him to cower? He was not the least bit threatening. “I am not an unreasonable man. Answer my questions, and I—”

“I shall never tell you anything you wish to know, soulless heathen. You will suffer at the hands of …”

He rolled his eyes and tuned out Brennan’s ranting. By the gods, was he back to
that
again? Brennan had spent the better part of ten minutes preaching about his Savior, calling them godless pagans, and telling them their souls would burn in a pit of fire.

“Quiet!” He heard footsteps on the stairs and turned. Odaria was finally coming down. What had taken her so long? He was about to call out to her when she screamed.

Brennan leapt out of the chair. “Witch!”

In the blink of an eye, Odaria dashed across the room and snatched a dagger off the table. “Murdering bastard, I’ll—”

Rothgar bolted to his feet just in time to catch Odaria around the waist. He managed to pull her back before she plunged the blade into Brennan’s chest.

“Odaria, what the—?”

“Let me go.” She fought against him. “He’s a murderer.” She glared at Brennan. “Try ta burn me, will you? Look where you are now.”

Rothgar watched as Brennan stepped around the table, grinning. What in the name of Thor was this man doing? Had he no reason in his head?

“We meet again, devil’s whore. I had hoped you would be dead by now. Have you opened your legs and sated the lustful urges of all the Norsemen?”

Odaria lunged at Brennan, wielding the dagger in her left hand like a madwoman. “If it weren’t for this one holding me back, your blood would be puddled on the floor.”

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and looked at him. The gold flecks in her green eyes shimmered. “Release me, Rothgar. Let me have the vengeance I deserve.”
He yanked Odaria to his chest and held her fast. She was strong, and her rage only fueled her strength. “Settle down.”

Brennan laughed. “You have been caught, she-devil. Now what will you do? Cast a spell upon me?”

“I’ll show you I can do more than conjure sea demons.”

A ceramic pitcher flew across the room and smashed against the wall just over Brennan’s head.

Rothgar whirled around. “Who threw that?”

Haraldur moved away from the fireplace, shaking his head and clutching the
Mjollnir
pendant dangling around his neck. “Nobody. It—”

A second later, an oil lantern whipped off the mantle and struck Brennan in the shoulder.

“Take that,” Odaria screamed.

Brennan leapt at Odaria, and Rothgar barely had time to wedge himself between them. Brennan beat on his back as he tried to hit Odaria.

A silver cup came flying out of nowhere and bounced off the wall next to him. “Dammit, Sig, stop throwing things.”

“We’re not, Rothgar,” Sig shouted, his blue eyes wide. “It’s her. She’s making it happen. She
is
a witch.”

Rothgar stared in disbelief as his drinking horn and a platter of meat slid across the table and hurled themselves at Brennan. He shook his head and blinked a few times. His eyes must be tired and playing tricks on him. How could the horn and platter move on their own? It was impossible.

Odaria screamed and twisted in his arms, trying to get at Brennan. “Why do you think these Norsemen are here? I conjured them to do my bidding. They shall destroy you and this horrid village before they—”

“I should have set you ablaze when I had the chance, witch.” Spit flew from Brennan’s lips as he raved like a madman. “You will burn in hell just like your devil-worshipping mother, diseased whore.”

Rothgar glanced into Brennan’s green eyes and noticed they were flecked with bits of gold. He stared into Odaria’s eyes, then looked back at Brennan’s. There was no mistaking what he saw. Their eyes were the same. He noticed they shared the same lean cut of the jaw, and their noses had a similar shape. Now he knew where Odaria had inherited her temper.

Odaria broke from his grip and spun around. She pushed against his chest, trying to stab Brennan with the dagger. “If it takes my last breath, I’ll see you dead yet. I know what you are. You killed—”

Rothgar clamped his hand over Odaria’s mouth. “Quiet! And give me that dagger before you stick it into me.” He grabbed Odaria’s rope-burned wrist and held her arm steady.

He looked at Brennan. “If you wish to have your villagers spared, tell me what you know of the other Norse ship. Otherwise”—he nodded at Odaria—“I will allow her to do as she pleases.”

“I shall not succumb to heathen tricks. You are in league with the devil’s mistress. You have become spellbound by her poisonous flesh. I shall tell you nothing.” Brennan spit in his face.

Rothgar kicked Brennan in the stomach. He crumpled to the floor, wheezing. “Sig, remove him. Take him back to the nets and string him up with the others. Let him think about his fate and the fate of all his self-righteous villagers.”

Sig and Haraldur grabbed Brennan by the arms and hoisted him to his feet. Odaria lunged at Brennan one last time, then grew limp in his arms as Brennan was dragged out the door.

He glanced down at Odaria. Her chest was heaving, her hair was a tangled mess, and she felt burning hot, as if she had a raging fever. “Drop the dagger, and I will release you.”

The dagger clattered to the floor.

The second he freed Odaria, she pounced on him. “How dare you keep me from killing him! He tortured me and tried to burn me alive.” She shoved him in the chest with both hands. “I had the chance to do him in, and you stopped me. Why?”

He straightened his shoulders. Even though Brennan had been removed from the gathering hall, Odaria’s fury still raged. How could a father and daughter bear such hatred for one another? It made no sense. Odaria had told him that she had no relatives in the village. Why had she lied about Brennan?

Odaria slapped his shoulder. “By the gods, answer me!”

“I cannot let you kill him. He—”

“Then you must do it. You are supposed to be a fierce, bloodthirsty Norseman. Are you afraid of him? Take your sword and cleave off his head. He deserves it for what he has done. Or even better yet, turn him into a blood eagle.”

The flat, vicious tone in her voice alarmed him. What had come over Odaria? She sounded so unlike that gentle and frightened girl upstairs. “Do not speak that way. Do you know what you are saying? Brennan is your—”

He stopped himself before he said, “Father.” Was it possible Odaria did not know who Brennan truly was?

“Brennan is my sworn enemy and nothing more. He tried to kill me, and yet you wish to spare him.
Why
?”

“I need him. He may know where Orvind is.”

“Orvind.” She picked up an empty bowl and threw it against the wall. “Is he all you care about? What of me?”

Without warning, Odaria pitched forward and grabbed the back of a chair. He raced to her side and grabbed her before she fell. To his surprise, she still radiated heat, like a roaring fire.

“Are you unwell?”

“Nay. I get weak after.” She flopped down on a bench and bent over, rubbing her head. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”

He frowned.
After
? After what? What did she mean? He had never seen a woman display such rage before. Did Odaria suffer from a type of madness? Is that why Brennan and the other villagers despised her?

He glanced around the room and shook his head. Everything was in shambles. A broken pitcher crunched under his boots, spilled beer and meat littered the floor, and crockery lay shattered near the fireplace. What in the name of Valhalla had happened in here?

“Odaria, what … ? How … ?” He looked at her, dumbfounded. For once, he was at a loss for words. There must be a reasonable explanation for what had happened. If Sig and Haraldur told the others what they had witnessed in here …

“Everything is destroyed. How? What manner of trickery did you use?”

“’Twas no trick,” she said, looking at him. “I merely used the powers that the gods gave me. I told you the truth. I never denied being a witch. Perhaps now you believe me. Or would you like another demonstration?”

Odaria watched in silence as Rothgar sat on the wooden bench and cradled his head in his hands.

“A witch? Odaria …” He rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. “Fine, you are a witch. Whatever you say.”

“You refuse to believe me? After all this?” She gestured around the room and felt a surge of pride. That was quite a worthy fit she’d thrown. She smirked. “You have eyes. Did you not see for yourself?”

“
Ja
, I saw. If you wish me to believe you, then be a good little witch and find Orvind, because I’ve failed.”

She stood and rested her hand on Rothgar’s thick shoulder. He was upset, and she owed it to him to help him. After he had left her upstairs, she’d spent some time thinking about everything he’d done for her. He had saved her life, fed her, clothed her, and even tended to her when she’d fainted. It was obvious that Rothgar cared for her, and she could no longer deny her own growing attachment to him.

All in all, Rothgar seemed a good match for her. He acted strong-willed and stubborn, as did she, yet he had a gentle, tender side. He had a noble air about him, and for reasons she did not quite understand, she found herself drawn to him. Rothgar was troubled over Orvind. It would only be fair for her to use her powers and help him any way she could.

“Do you possess something of his? If so, I may be able to find him. I have visions that—”

“Visions?” Rothgar stood and started pacing around the disheveled room. “Enough foolishness. I refuse to hear more. Karnik took a shipful of men to Rousay while you were sleeping today.”

She shrugged. “So? What is on Rousay?”

“People, villages, treasure …” Rothgar clasped his hands behind his back and continued pacing. “He’s supposed to be looking for Orvind, but his men will raid and plunder the villages. And you know what fate will befall the women. Karnik’s men are bored and angry because I denied them fun with the villagers here.” He sighed. “Now their crimes are on my head.”

She stood in front of Rothgar and placed her palms on his wide chest. “Nay, you are not responsible if they behave like beasts. Worry not, the gods punish those who commit false deeds.” She gazed into his ice-blue eyes and clasped his biceps. “Pray, sit with me and talk before you wear out the floor.”

Rothgar let her lead him to the table, and he sat down in a wooden chair.

“Now, tell me what troubles you.”

“I was sent here to find Orvind, and I’ve failed.”

“How have you failed?” she asked, sitting across from him. “You have been here but a day. Give it time.”

He shook his head. “I know not for certain that Orvind’s
knarr
ever made it here. He took the ship and set sail for
Strjonsey
, but only the gods know what happened to him. The ship could have been sucked into a whirlpool or flipped over by a whale.” He looked at her. “Orvind may already be dead. Do you not see? All this has been for naught.”