Undercurrent (28 page)

Alarik stepped toward her, a gleam in his eyes she’d never seen before.

Ragnar stayed his advance with a hand on his shoulder, then directed a warning glance at her. “Mind your words, Cassie. What you are saying slanders Signy’s honor.”

Cassie’s own honor yet stung from her rear-end-dragging public performance, and she spat out, “Hah! From what I’ve seen, Signy’s honor is pretty much worthless.”

Alarik shrugged off Ragnar’s hand and charged forward. His strong fingers bit into her upper arms, and despite the thick padding of cloak and sleeves, she’d wear ugly bruises by the next day.

“
Do not speak so of my Signy.” With each word, he shook her. Hard.

“
Release her, cousin.” Ragnar’s tone carried no small threat.

Alarik’s dark eyes bored into hers a moment more, then he shoved her away. Her heel caught her skirt, and Ragnar grabbed her forearm before she fell, righting her then letting go.

Directing a severe gaze from one to the other, Ragnar spoke. “I think there is more Cassie would say that must be heard. What have you seen?”

She rubbed her chafed hands over her skirt. Now that she had a minute to think, she recanted the way she’d blurted things out. She didn’t want to hurt Alarik, not really. Sure, he bullied her now and then, always smarting off with some sassy comment, but all in all, she did truly like him. She peeked up at his angry face and detected a hint of tolerance even now beneath his fierce frown. No, she more than liked him. She admired the man. He’d cared for her. Protected her. And for the most part, displayed the patience of a saint toward her. What she had learned would crush him.

“
Look, Alarik, I know this is going to sound terrible. I just want to say up front that I think you’re a great guy…”

He crossed his arms and stared her down. Her kind words were getting her nowhere. She looked at Ragnar, who merely nodded unspoken encouragement. Blowing out a long breath, she studied the ground. “When I accidently opened Torolf’s tent door last night, I saw a woman in there. I recognized the same woman this morning at the back of the crowd, in his arms.” She paused and met Alarik’s eyes, softening her gaze and her tone to lessen the blow. “It was Signy.”

“
Nay!” Alarik charged again, but Ragnar sidestepped in front of her.

Standing tiptoe, she peeked over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Alarik. Really. I know how much you love her.”

His face turned from red to purple to white in a matter of seconds. He narrowed his eyes, skewering her with a piercing scowl. “If you lie, woman…”

Her vision swam and hot tears spilled over. She shook her head. The lump clogging her throat stopped anything more she would say.

Alarik spun away, murder in his every step.

An icy terror that mayhap Cassie spoke true shivered down Alarik’s backbone. Easy enough to dismiss the words, but her tears, and the pity in her voice… He stomped his boots harder as he approached Torolf’s tent. Nay, Signy would not be there. All would be well. He’d land a cross-cut on Torolf’s jaw for good measure, then drink the night away with Oláf and Bryn.

Batting aside the door flaps, he charged into Torolf’s makeshift lair. Before his eyes adjusted to the dim oil lamp, the scent of lavender nearly drove him to his knees.

She stood, back to him, smoothing creases from a magnificent fur cloak hanging from one of the tent supports. Her hand froze mid-stroke. Only his gasp broke the silence.

Surely she could not be here of her own accord. His eyes traveled the length of her. Hair the color of harvest-wheat shimmered unbound, cascading over a dark green cape. A sea-blue skirt foamed out from beneath. No bindings held her feet. He scanned the tent corner to corner. A chest of provisions, bearskin rugs, random baskets strewn about. No guard. What madness was this? “Why are you here?”

“
I might ask the same of you.” She spoke but did not turn around.

“
What?” More stunning than her words, that she had not immediately come to him stung his pride like a swarm of angry hornets.

“
I told you to run, Alarik.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “You would not listen.”

Fie! What lover’s quarrel did she seek? Better he speak a language they both understood. Striding across the fur-lined ground, he softened his voice. “Signy—”

“
Please.” She lifted her hand, halting him. “Just go. Go away.”

“
Nay! I will have what is mine.” He reached to embrace her, but she twisted at his touch.

“
Do not make this harder than it has to be.” Her tone chilled him through, and when she finally turned to face him, he froze—his eyes locked onto the brooch clasping her cape in place.

“
You?” Horror enflamed him. He ripped off the pin with shaking fingers. The rent in the fabric caused the green wool to slide from her shoulders and slip to the ground. Confusion heaped his own thoughts into an indecipherable pile. “You saw what happened? You know? Why did you not speak?”

A spectre of a smile haunted the corners of her mouth. “You are such a fool, Alarik.”

Her mocking goaded hotter than a branding iron. “What happened!”

“
You are beautiful to the eyes, a god among men, but you lack in ambition.” A wolfish gleam lit her gaze. “Too bad. It is the cause of your undoing.”

Alarik ran a hand through his hair and paced. “What are you saying?”

“
Shall I speak all, that you may run to the lawgiver and beg a new hearing?” Her usual musical laughter carried a discordant note.

He stilled, planting himself in front of her. “Signy, tell me all, or I swear to god—”

“
God? You sound like your cousin.” Her smile faded. “Very well, Alarik. There is naught you can do with the truth now. Unlike our last eve together in the woods, the herbs I mixed in your ale the night of Einar’s death were not harmful, though I warrant you felt as such when you awoke.”

She studied his face before she continued. “Torolf waited in the shadows, and for a long night I might add, such was the length of your revelry. ’Twas his strong arm that hauled the three of you to the storage hut.”

“
Torolf!” Trembling started somewhere deep in him, the well of his soul mayhap, and spread as an unconstrained fire, wild and raging. “I will deliver his head to the council, that murdering son of—”

“
Nay!” She stepped toward him, eyes colder than a winter’s eve. “’Twas my hand in which Torolf placed the blade. I drew Ragnar’s blood. I killed Einar!”

The force of her revelation stole his breath, sucking life from the marrow of his bones. He staggered back as if drunk. “Why?” His voice broke, as ragged and frayed as his emotions. “Why!”

“
Torolf planned the destruction of Rogaland long ago. None can stand against him.” She met his gaze, unflinching. “Ever has it been Torolf who holds my heart.”

Did he not know the voice to be Signy’s, he would be hard pressed to believe such a lie. He worked his jaw, but even so, it required controlled effort to get words past his thick tongue. “But you vowed to me. ’Twas my bed that you shared.”

One side of her mouth twitched in a smirk, matched by a flawless raised brow. “I gave you my words and my body, Alarik. Never once did I give to you my love.”

He tugged his collar, suddenly unable to breathe. All he’d believed, all he’d held true and good, shattered to pieces. Sharp edges of broken trust stabbed and sliced, bloodying him to the core. He closed his eyes, and the scarlet pain followed even there in the dark, wretched and unrelenting.

“
You should have stayed in Jorvik, Alarik.”

The horror of her treachery gave way to rage, and his eyes blazed open. “Do not think to tell me what to do. Know this, woman, I will see my brother’s blood atoned for, or I will see you in Hel.”

The burn of his gaze must have hit its mark. She retreated a step. “Do what you will to me.” She paused, her creamy skin waxing ashen, the blue of her eyes fading. “But I beg you, Rikka, do not harm the babe that I carry.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

Ragnar watched the eastern sky change from pitch to the color of storm-tossed swells. With dawn’s arrival, the low clouds settled into a palette of leaden streaks and pewter smears. Rubbing his tired eyes, he glanced at Cassie, curled not far from his side. He envied her childlike slumber as another yawn stretched his jaw.

With a long stick, he poked the remnants of a vigil fire he’d kept for Alarik. Not that it had been useful. He’d not seen his cousin since Alarik stomped away from Cassie’s words, nor had anyone else. Fear and worry rushed against him as a powerful foe, and he closed his eyes. Please, Jesu. Your will be done in my cousin’s life.

Heavy footsteps approached, loosening bits of gravel, but they came not from the assembly. They came from the wilds, for Ragnar had made sure to camp at the edge of the grounds. He tensed and turned.

Descending from boulder to boulder, Alarik picked his way down in silence, eventually coming to squat by the small fire. His shoulders hunched like an ancient’s, and his dark hair stuck out in clumps as if he’d torn at it. Indeed, his tunic gaped with tears, ripped at collar and sleeves. He bent his head and stared into the fire.

Ragnar shifted, alarmed at the transformation in his friend. Never did he think to see his mighty cousin so broken. Past combat, even losses, had never bowed Alarik’s head like this. Ragnar swallowed. Only intermittent snaps of the fire broke the silence between them.

Without looking up, at last Alarik spoke. “Your father…” His voice rasped as if spent from many war cries.

The hollow sound echoed in Ragnar’s ears. What battle had his cousin fought during the long night?

Moments passed before Alarik cleared his throat. “I know you held great love for your father, even after…the way he treated you. By the gods, Ragnar! The way he treated you.” A shudder quaked through him. He shook his head, hair falling forward. “Yet you loved him, never once returning his contempt. How? Why!”

His cousin jerked up his head. Red-rimmed eyes glazed out from dark shadows. Alarik’s blanched skin and sunken cheeks spoke of agony so supreme, it would consume him. Nay. It already had.

Ragnar winced. How he knew that depth of hurt. Never would he wish it upon the worst of his enemies, let alone his friend. “Love requires no return, Alarik. It gives even when forsaken. This is the way of Jesu. If I did not know Jesu’s love to be real, I could not have borne my father’s hatred.”

Grabbing hair in both his hands, Alarik pulled until he shook. “I do not understand your Jesu.” His words came out clipped and growling, causing Cassie to twitch in her sleep.

“
Even so, cousin, Jesu understands you.”

“
Nay!” Alarik let go his hair and pressed his fists against his eyes. Did he think he could so easily hide from the truth? “Not Jesu, not anyone, can know what I suffer.”

“
That is a lie that will ever bind you. I offer truth and hope, Alarik, if you will but listen.”

Ragnar waited.

Alarik said nothing.

Beyond, collective yawns and sleepy voices gained in volume as the assembly shrugged off sleep. Beside him, Cassie stirred, though did not yet open her eyes. A strange urgency welled in his spirit, and Ragnar spoke. “I can only guess that Signy has indeed betrayed you, my friend. But that is no different than the betrayal you commit—”

“
Me?” Alarik shot to his feet. “I have betrayed no one! I am more innocent than you will ever know.”

Ragnar scrubbed a hand across his face, empty of words. His pathetic attempt to bring hope to his friend had obviously accomplished the opposite. Though his stomach sank with failure, he stood and rested a light hand on Alarik’s shoulder.
Sweet Jesu, give me the words.
“None of us stand innocent before a holy God. We betray Him every time we look to aught but Him as master and creator. Even so, the focus of His love for us, for you, was such that He came in human form. He died in your place, atoning for your treachery.

“
This is not about what Signy or anyone else has done, Alarik. It is about you. You will not be free from the sorrow that consumes you until you realize the depth of pain Jesu bore on your account. You have but to repent and turn to Him. He gives peace such as you have never known. Will you have it?” Ragnar lowered his hand and stepped back. Waiting. Hoping.

Alternately clenching and loosening his fists, Alarik would not meet his gaze. A muscle on his neck bulged in a tight cord, and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but merely took a big breath. Reaching into his tunic, he pulled out a small leather bag and tossed it to Ragnar. “Give that to Cass-ee. Tell her…tell her I want her to have it.”

Apprehension slithered through Ragnar. “Why do you not tell her yourself?”

Alarik cast a glance at her sleeping form and grunted, then scuffed away into the assembly.

Tucking the pouch between belt and tunic, Ragnar watched him go. His cousin walked with determined gait, as if a vital matter required his immediate presence. When Alarik could no longer be seen, Ragnar batted his hair forward and stooped beside Cassie. With a gentle but firm nudge, he shook her. “Wake, Cassie.”

She rolled over and stretched as he returned to his feet. Glancing heavenward, he prayed silently for strength. A strong discernment pressed down on his spirit as gray and solid as the clouded sky. To be sure, this day held much promise of pain.