Season of the Sun (Viking Era 1)

“Possibly paid by the son. Did he not gain all the dead father’s wealth once Zarabeth was removed?”

“Aye, ’tis true. The son, Keith, is weak, and his wife is a bitch. But I do not care now, not really. Even that man in Hedeby, the one she tried to entice into helping her escape, he—”

“What?”

He repeated himself. His mother looked thoughtful.

“I cannot imagine wanting to escape a known entity with one that is entirely unknown. You said the man was a coward and ran when he realized you were her master?”

He nodded.

“Then why would she want to entice him? Zarabeth is a fool? She did not realize he was a coward?”

“She is not a fool.”

“Good. It seems to me, Magnus, that the man blamed her so you wouldn’t kill him.” Helgi smiled up at her son. “You will keep the woman with you. I will speak to your father this very evening about Ingunn. ’Tis a pity about Orm, but your father reviles him now and holds him in distrust. He would never consent to his having Ingunn.”

“I had heard that he was set upon by outlaws.”

“Nay, ’twas he who killed another man, a freeman, a man of worth. He wanted the man’s silve

r and he took it. There is no doubt. If Orm’s family were not so powerful, there would be retribution, but alas, there will not be any.”

“Why not? Cannot the man’s family bring it to light at the next meeting of the thing? Were there sufficient proof, the least the family could have would be danegeld for a man’s life.” He laughed then, a bitter laugh. “I paid much for Olav’s life, I can tell you. ’Twas nearly as much as I was prepared to pay for Zarabeth’s brideprice.”

He heard his mother draw in her breath and cursed his loose tongue, but it had always been so with his mother. He spoke freely with her and the habit was too strong to break just because he was beset.

“You knew I had planned to marry her, for Horkel told you, curse his eyes. But she refused me. I returned to take her and found that she was about to be killed for murdering Olav, her old husband.”

“I wish to speak with the woman. May I, Magnus?”

He gave her a look that was so wary that she hugged him to her again. “You really cannot continue like this, you know. Ingunn is jealous of her and will continue to be. Mayhap she would truly harm her. I would not trust her.”

“She is a slave! There is no reason for Ingunn to hate her.”

Helgi, ignoring his words, repeated what she had said: “Mayhap Ingunn would truly harm her. I would not trust her.”

“I threatened Ingunn if she dared touch Zarabeth or Lotti again.”

Helgi smiled at his simplicity. “Your life will continue in unpleasantness until you have resolved everything. Ingunn will not ease her hatred of the woman. I will speak to you again after your father has come to a decision. Take care, Magnus, and strive to be fair.”

He nodded and took his leave. An hour later he had returned to his own farmstead. He entered the longhouse and immediately made his way back to his chamber.

The small room was empty. He felt his belly twist, turned around, and bellowed, “Ingunn! Where is she?”

His sister was smiling and it was a smile that chilled him to his bones. By Thor, he should have taken her with him back to his mother. “Where is she, Ingunn?”

She shrugged. “Why, she insisted on performing the tasks of a slave. I did not touch her. I did not force her or threaten her, ask anyone.”

“Where is she?”

Again Ingunn shrugged. “She is with four other slaves at the marsh, digging up bog ore. You know how much we use, burning it with the charcoal in the ovens. Rollo whined for more, since he is making more farm implements for you. You know how hot his ovens must be to melt the iron.”

He could only stare at her. Digging up chunks of bog ore! By Odin, it was a terrible job, dirty, back-breaking work that required great strength and endurance, and she, a woman, was doing it? His mother was right. Ingunn would never ease in her jealous hatred.

He turned and left the longhouse without another word. He strode from the palisade toward the clump of pine trees that bordered the marsh that lay a good hundred yards to the east of the farmstead.

Zarabeth wanted to die. She didn’t want to cry or make a single sound. She just wanted to fall down and die. Her back burned so badly that she was beyond tears, beyond anything she had ever known. Her muscles were knotted and cramped. It didn’t ease; it simply got worse and worse. Yet she dug with the hoe in the filthy black swamp until the blade hit the hard clumps, then she bent down to dig with her hands when she had uncovered the isolated lumps of bog ore. It had taken her several hours to be taught how to find the ore, and now that she knew, she had found a rhythm. But it was hard to keep going. So very hard. She had been a fool to let Ingunn taunt her into this. She had been a fool to allow herself to flaunt her pride. Pride! She had nothing but pain, and an iron collar about her neck that told all she was nothing to anyone. Pride!