“You’re tired,” he said after a long moment. “You are tired, and that is why you a
re crying.”
She raised her face and looked up at him in the dim light. “Is that what you wish to believe, Magnus?”
He lowered his head then and kissed her. He tasted the salty wetness on her lips. It hurt him deeply, this pain of hers. He brought his hands up her back to hold her still, and his fingers closed around her throat. And stilled at the touch of the slave collar.
He’d had the smithy put it on her. He’d watched as the smithy placed the collar Magnus had selected around her throat. He’d watched her become paler and paler until her face had seemed washed of color. And when the collar was around her neck, he’d watched her eyes become blank and empty.
But it was her fault. She had enraged him, trying to seduce another man. He’d had no choice.
Slowly he pushed her away from him.
He didn’t want to, but he looked down at her. Her cheeks glistened wet and her eyes still brimmed with unshed tears.
“Why did you betray me? Why?” He took a quick step back, away from her, appalled at his weakness, at the anguish in his voice. By Odin, that she could have brought him to this.
Zarabeth watched his face change, watched his eyes grow cold, watched him distance himself from her.
“I didn’t betray you.”
“Liar. Get inside the longhouse. You will sleep now, for there is much that will require your attention on the morrow.”
He turned on his heel and left her, not returning inside, but striding toward the gates of the palisade. She watched him speak to the guards, then pull up the thick wooden shaft that barred the gates.
She turned slowly and walked back into the longhouse. There was no free place for her to sleep on the floor. Men snored loudly, as did some of the women. There were two couples who were caressing each other, but they were too sodden with drink to do much about it. Zarabeth stood irresolute for a moment, then made her way to the small chamber where Lotti and the children were sleeping. She lifted her sister and slipped into the bed. The other children obligingly shoved more closely together. Zarabeth was asleep within moments, Lotti snuggled close to her body.
Magnus believed she had left him. He searched every sleeping body in the large hall. She wasn’t there. He looked in every chamber, his temper and his fear for her growing in equal measure. Finally, when he saw her asleep with the children, he thought he would collapse with the relief he felt. He shook his head at himself and took a blanket outside in the cool of the night. When sleep finally came, there was a woman in his mind, as real as the deep strokes of his heart, and she was taunting him, laughing at him, and when she turned, she had no face. She threw back her head, lifting her hair, and there was an iron collar around her neck.
It was late the following morning before all the men had left to return to their families. Magnus’ brothers and parents remained until after the midday meal before taking their leave.
Zarabeth served them, silent and stiff, dark shadows beneath her eyes. Her gown was wrinkled and soiled from spilled food and her cleaning from the night before. Magnus wondered why she had not garbed herself in fresh clothing, why she hadn’t washed herself in the bathhouse. Her hair was in a thick braid that hung between her shoulder blades. He noticed that every few moments her eyes searched out Lotti, who was playing with the other children. He saw his son watching the little girl, and there was meanness in Egill’s clear blue eyes. He sighed. If only the boy would understand. He cursed softly, then turned to his brother Mattias, who said calmly as he chewed on a piece of warm bread, “You must deal with the woman. This cannot continue.”
“It has only begun. What mean you?”
“You, Magnus, freely offer me your impertinent advice about my wife. To do you justice, I admit that I did allow Glyda to enjoy herself last night with my body. I felt her womb when I spilled my seed into her. Perhaps this time she will bear me a live child.” Mattias paused a moment, staring toward Zarabeth. “I am not blind, nor am I particularly stupid. You watch this woman with her strange red hair like a hungry wolf who wants to devour her or strangle her. Then you gaze at her as though you would give your life to protect her. You can explain it to me, brother. Have you lost your wits and your manhood to this wench who poisoned her husband?”
“It is none of your concern.”
“Father wished to know all of it, and so Horkel was bound to tell him what had happened. He says that you have acted with great honor.”
“Horkel knows little of anything. He knows almost nothing, and yet he brays on and on.”
“He knew that you wished to marry the wench and that she betrayed you.”
“Enough, Mattias. I see Jon over there teasing one of my women. I will go best him with swords. He grows audacious as he gains his man years.”
Mattias watched his brothers buffet each other on the shoulder and proceed to insult each other with easy fluency. He watched them draw their swords and go into mock battle. Jon was built more slightly than his powerful brother, but he was faster, his movements agile. Both of them were laughing, mocking each other’s skills. There would be no spilled blood, not today, not between these brothers. Men began to gather around them and shout advice.
“I would speak to Magnus about Orm,” Harald said to his eldest son, Mattias. “I trust not the whelp. He will try to take Ingunn, I doubt it not.”
“Ingunn would not go with him.”
“Ha! I am not so certain of that. She mouths all the right words, Mattias, but she wants him. The girl is sullen and gives me evil looks. Her temper has always been uncertain; it becomes more uneven now that I have refused her Orm. And even if she obeyed me and rejected him, he would force her, and then I would have to kill him.” Harald sighed deeply. “What if he gets her with child before I can kill him?”
Mattias laughed. “Father, you weave a tale with an ending that suits you not, even before the tale can come to its beginning! Magnus is here now. He will not allow Orm to come within the palisade gates.”
Harald grunted, but was still frowning as he looked toward his daughter, Ingunn, who was talking to Zarabeth. She was angry, he could tell from even this distance. He hoped she would not strike the woman again. There would be trouble, though, he scented it in the air, just as he knew Orm would move on Malek to take Ingunn.