Vengeance Hammer (Viking Vengeance) (12 page)

He suppressed a grin. Like Hjørdis, Evie skipped from one subject to another so fast his head spun. There was only one sure method of dealing with a flighty young girl—take command at once.

Xára headed for the chair and the sand-tray.

“Sit, Evie.” Dráddør folded his arms and glowered down at the girl. “Over there next to Xára. Start from the beginning. When did Godfraid arrive?”

“Right after the bells rang for the None prayers.” The girl sat, shifted her wayward skirts back into place, and swung her legs.

Godfraid had arrived not long after he and Tighe left. Konáll must have missed him by a hair’s breath. “Why did Xára nigh faint when she met Godfraid’s wife?”

All the mischief and impishness vanished from Evie’s face. She hung her head. “Because he wed Magnhildur.”

Xára finished writing and motioned for him and Evie to read.

“I am to tell him all. All? E’en of yours and my seidr? I am to speak the forbidden?” Evie wrung her hands.

Xára clamped hers around Evie’s and mouthed,
All
.

Seidr? Evie thought herself a witch? Dráddør inspected the white faces of his wife and her sister. More lies of omission.

Evie jumped when a hard fist pounded on the door.

“Dráddør. Nyssa insists she sees Xára.” Konáll sounded frustrated and annoyed.

“Enter.” Dráddør hadn’t taken his eyes off Xára. He recalled what she had written earlier. “Godfraid married Arnfinn’s mistress?”

“Mistress?” Evie frowned.

The door opened and Nyssa glided in. She went straight to Xára, but when she sank to one knee, Konáll scooped her up and growled, “Nay, wife. You will sit on a chair.”

“Then put me on the bed and have Xára sit near me. I have had an earful from Ulna.”

“Ulna?” Dráddør had not heard the name afore.

“She was Xára’s nurse and is now Evie’s,” Nyssa replied.

Konáll set his wife down on the covers and eased two bed cushions behind her back. “You are not to over excite yourself.”

“Aye, husband.” Nyssa cupped Konáll’s jaw and pressed her lips to his. “The babe is fine. I am well.”

Dráddør’s temples throbbed. Why had Nyssa been speaking with Evie’s nurse? And what had she learned that required her to speak to them at once?

“I am afeared for the safety of the women under your protection.” Nyssa shifted on the straw and wriggled a bed cushion free. “’Twould seem there is much that has been kept from you.”

“Am I to infer you believe Lady Jennie and Evelyn as well as Xára are in danger?” Dráddør massaged the side of his head.

“Aye. You have the right of it.” Nyssa stroked her swollen belly. “Especially Evie.”

Evie had been quiet for too long. Dráddør spied her sneaking to the door. “Sit, Evie.”

“Nay. Let her go. Evie, give me your word, you will go straight to Ulna, and do as she says.” Nyssa waved a finger. “Now. Your vow on your honor.”

Evie sullenly gave her oath, dipped a curtsey, and sprinted through the doorway.

“Bar the door,” Nyssa ordered.

Konáll did as his wife commanded. “Now?”

“Aye. Evelyn is not Arnfinn’s child. ’Tis the truth, Xára?”

Dráddør heard the same little sound Xára made when he pleasured her, but ’twas filled with distress. He went to her at once, lifted her high against his chest, walked to the other side of the bed, and placed her on the mattress. “I will bring your sand tray.”

Konáll cleared his throat. “Who sired Evie and why is this of import? We waste time. The Vesper bells will ring and we must all be present to start the meal.”

“Lady Jennie
is
Evie’s mother?”

“Aye, she is. You are making me dizzy, husband, Dráddør. Sit you both down. Ulna claims Evie is the daughter of Ard Greimme.”

Dráddør stifled a vile curse. He clamped both hands behind his back and paced the length of the bed. “I agree with Konáll. Why is the fact that Evie is the progeny of the Celtic sun-god of import?”

The Vesper bells began to peal.

“She is a half-immortal like me. You know there are many who believe taking the maidenhead of such a female will bring them great power. Before Néill left Latharin he discovered who had sired Evie. Ulna says he is a man who swives young boys and girls by preference. We cannot tarry, longer. I did not want you two facing an enemy without full knowledge.” Nyssa swung her legs to one side.

“We have no time for more. Xára, did Arnfinn know any of this?” Dráddør helped his wife to stand and held out his arm. They had to be the first ones at the high table to receive the strangers as custom dictated. Normally he and his brothers did not stand on ceremony, but this eve Godfraid must suffer no slight, however small.

Xára nodded. She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.

“Before a word scrapes out of your mouth, husband, we will attend the
náttverðr
, and I will
walk
to the hall. Albeit at a snail’s pace, but under the command of mine own two feet. I will not meet this Magnhildur the Magnificent like a cowering ninny.”

Dráddør noticed Xára’s frown at the Norse word. “’Tis what we call the evening meal.”

She flashed him a grin and mouthed,
My Thanks
.

Nyssa, assisted by Konáll, lumbered off the bed. She straightened her skirts and pinched her cheeks.

Dráddør glanced down to find his wife performing the same rituals. In truth, her face needed the pinch of color and her paleness alarmed him. “Tell me with your fingers, how long have you lived at Lathairn with Arnfinn’s mistress?”

She held up five fingers.

“Winters?”

A shake of her head.

“Moons?” Konáll held the door open for them.

Another nay.

It could not be. “Five eves?”

She nodded.

Dráddør tried to make sense out of it all as they followed Konáll and Nyssa down the stairs. He frowned. “When were you sent to Circe Fearn Abbey?”

Ten fingers.

“You had seen ten summers?” At her nodded assent he asked, “And then to Touft Abbey?”

Ten and three fingers.

Naught made sense.

A commotion on the other side of the great hall drew his attention. Two figures slowly made their way through the crowded chamber. Earl Godfraid and his wife, Dráddør decided, for both were garbed in the manner of court and dripped jeweled rings and necklaces to display their wealth.

Dráddør tucked Xára’s arm into his and spoke out of the side of his mouth, “Trust in me. I protect what is mine. You, Evie, and Jennie are mine.”

His low mutter seemed to calm Xára She gave his forearm a little squeeze and met his gaze wearing a smile, a tremulous one, but a smile nonetheless.

* * *

Godfraid.

Xára tried to swallow, but the lump of fear in her throat seemed to double in size. Magnhildur. Oh, she feared Godfraid for good reason, but the thought of facing Magnhildur again had her fingers trembling and her heart skipping in leaps and bounds. Automatically her hand went to her throat. She massaged the skin there to no avail. The slight, ever present burn there intensified.

She sent a silent thanks to Ghazi who, when he had seen the size of Godfraid’s force, had ordered her and Evie taken to their chambers and commanded they stay there until he summoned them. Thank the Lord she had not had to face Godfraid and Magnhildur alone. When Ghazi had sent a message that Dráddør and Konáll had returned, she had nigh swooned in relief.

The dreaded moment had arrived. Xára kept her gaze fixed on Dráddør’s bronzed fingers and tried not to gag when the sickly sweet perfume Magnhildur favored assaulted her nose. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the white lace that trimmed the hem of the woman’s scarlet gown.

“I bid you welcome to my keep, Earl Godfraid. ’Tis an honor to receive you and your lady.” Dráddør sketched a bow without ever letting go of Xára’s hand, for which she was utmost grateful.

Xára risked a quick peek at the man standing in front of her husband.

Godfraid was not what she had imagined at all for he was of the same age as Arnfinn. She had expected a warrior in his prime, not a man with a lined face who colored his graying hair with walnut bark dye.

“My thanks for your hospitality, Lord Dráddør. I was most anxious to make your acquaintance as we serve the same monarchs. My congratulations on your new title and lands. May I present my wife, Lady Magnhildur?”

“An honor.” Dráddør brushed his lips over Magnhildur’s hand. “And may I present my wife, Lady Xára?”

The moment she’d been dreading came and went like a flicker. She bowed her head, curtsied, allowed rough hands to capture hers, held her breath, and did not flinch when slimy, wet lips brushed her fingers.

Immediately Xára caught the vivid memory filling Godfraid’s head and she shuddered.

Was such a thing possible? That a man would put his cock into an arse hole and remember it with such carnal relish? Bile rose in her throat and she bit the tip of her tongue in the hopes of arresting the panic welling deep in her belly.

“Lady Magnhildur, my wife, Lady Xára.” Dráddør squeezed her fingers.

She curtseyed to Magnhildur, but did not so much as peep in the woman’s direction.

A ring-encrusted hand was thrust before her face. Xára swallowed. Court manners dictated she must kiss Magnhildur’s hand. Bitterness coated her tongue, but she brushed her lips to the woman’s white skin.

The image that filled Xára’s head nigh made her collapse. She locked her knees and forced herself to stand. Nay. It could not be true, the memory she had seen. But it must be and if so, Jennie was the victim not the murderer. Relief and a strange elation gave Xára a surge of strength and she could not wait to tell Evie what she had learned.

Dráddør curled his arm around her waist and drew her close. “My wife does not speak, Earl Godfraid, Lady Magnhildur.”

Xára concentrated on an oil lamp hanging to the right of the fireplace centered on the far wall. Every so oft she swept a hasty peek at Magnhildur.

“Why, how strange.” Magnhildur pressed her palm to a bosom more bared than covered. She wrinkled her perfect straight nose. “Not even a mewl?”

“Be forewarned Lady Magnhildur, we Vikings are easy to take offense,” Dráddør growled.

“And we stand one for all.” Konáll crossed his arms.

“Come, come. My wife was but curious. In truth, I almost envy you, Lord Dráddør, for there are many times when I wish my new wife would hold her tongue.”

Earl Godfraid’s oily smile had Xára’s insides quailing. One night, one meal, she could get through this. For Evie.

Dráddør turned to the side and waved at Konáll and Nyssa. “My brother and his wife are visiting with us. Earl Godfraid, Lady Magnhildur, this is Konáll, King of Rurari, and Nyssa, his queen.”

Xára could scarce draw breath. Her head ached and all the saliva in her mouth tasted sour. She tried not to look at Magnhildur, but ’twas impossible. The woman’s beauty was transfixing.

“King Konáll. I am honored.”

Magnhildur curtsied and the low cut of her dress drew Konáll’s gaze. He shook his head and the brilliant blue beads in his war braids flashed.

Magnhildur pivoted to Nyssa and inclined her head. “Lady Nyssa.”

“
Lady
Magnhildur.” Nyssa’s terse reply and the emphasis on the other woman’s title showed she had not overlooked the insult. To call Konáll King, and not his wife, Queen, could start a war in some lands.

“We were told of your marriage and ’tis the reason for our visit. We are to winter at King Kenneth’s court, and I will take word of your union to him.” Godfraid smiled and waved at Magnhildur.

“We have brought you a gift.” Magnhildur glided over to the far wall.

Every man Magnhildur passed turned to stare at her. She moved with a regal grace, head held high, luxurious mane loose and drawn over a bared shoulder. The pearliness of her white, white skin a marked contrast to the black waves of hair caressing her cheek. The scarlet cyrtel she wore reflected the color of her bow-shaped mouth. She was stunning in face and figure. Magnificent onyx eyes framed by a thick fringe of lashes took in every nuance of every male she brushed by.

Or so it seemed to Xára.

Around her neck, Magnhildur wore a necklace of oval sparkling rubies.

Xára shuddered remembering how slowly the witch had pierced her throat with the poisoned tip of a ruby-jeweled needle.

The crowd’s murmurs grew louder. Xára scanned the room and squinted at a large object covered with a velvet length of green fabric. With a dramatic flourish Magnhildur threw off the material to reveal a wooden chest. She signaled a warrior who opened the lid.

A sudden hush fell over the great hall. Men, women, and children all squirmed and tiptoed and elbowed to get a better view.

The creaks of the brass hinges sounded like shrieks when one of Godfraid’s warriors threw open the chest’s heavy lid.

Magnhildur captured Xára’s gaze.

The witch smiled, the lovely curve of her lips and the white teeth she bared, sent a shiver of terror around Xára’s neck. It took every shred of courage not to finger the scar at the base of her throat.

“Cloth?” The puzzlement in Dráddør’s voice could not be mistaken.

“Nay. ’Tis a chest of spices and herbs. ’Tis a thoughtful and valuable gift.” Nyssa nudged Xára’s side. “I am cert if my new sister, the lady Xára, could speak she would offer you her grateful thanks.”

Xára nodded and focused on Nyssa’s hand smoothing her cyrtel over the roundness of her pregnant belly.

“Indeed. We offer you both many thanks,” Dráddør said.

Xára tugged on Nyssa’s sleeve and surreptitiously pointed to Haakon who wore the castle’s outer keys on his belt. Nyssa whispered, “The steward?”

Nodding, Xára twisted so only Nyssa could see her lips and mouthed
Haakon
.

“Haakon, will you have someone take Earl Godfraid and Lady Magnhildur’s wonderful gift to the herbarium?” Nyssa asked, and then muttered for Xára’s ears only. “You and I will burn it all on the morrow. Evil witch.”

Amazed and warmed by Nyssa’s swift support, Xára beamed at her. A surge of confidence battered the coward’s veil she had worn until that moment.