Season of the Sun (Viking Era 1)

“But why do you care so? It was the woman’s fault in any case. She was naught but—”

Magnus lost control. He handed Zarabeth to Horkel, stepped up to his sister, and backhanded her hard across the cheek. She screamed in pain and went down onto her side.

Magnus stepped to her and stared down at her. She was holding her cheek, and there was hatred and a goodly measure of fear in her eyes.

He thought again how odd it was that Horkel had said nearly the same words, yet from Ingunn he’d been unable to bear it, for the venom was deep and vicious in her voice. “You will soon be gone from my sight. I will send a message to our father this very day. He will remove you. I don’t want to see you again.” His words were terrifying because of the calmness with which he spoke. Ingunn didn’t move; she was too afraid.

Cyra, no fool, stepped back, saying nothing.

Horkel had already carried Zarabeth into the longhouse. He laid her on Magnus’ bed, then stood back as his friend entered the small chamber.

Magnus merely nodded, and Horkel left them.

Zarabeth came back to awareness slowly, her mind sluggish and vague. She felt very cold. She opened her eyes, then lifted herself on her elbows. She saw Magnus sitting on the bed beside her.

“What happened? Why is my hair wet? Ah, my jaw hurts. Did you hit me?”

“Yes, I had to. I’m sorry.”

She felt the wetness of her hair against her shoulders and back, felt the rough wool blanket against her bare skin. She was naked save for dry cloths between her legs. How could that be? Had he replaced the cloths? She fell back, drawing the blanket to her throat. Magnus was still sitting there, looking at her, saying nothing.

She frowned and fought to remember and to grasp what had happened, and then she knew, all and everything.

“Where’s Lotti?”

His face tightened.

“Where’s Lotti?”

“She’s dead.”

She reared up, dropping the blanket, uncaring, and grabbed his tunic in her hands. She shook him, slammed her fists against his chest. “Where is she?”

But she knew; deep down, she knew.

Magnus held her wrists and pressed her back down. The cover was at her waist, her breasts heaving deeply. “I’m sorry,

Zarabeth,” he said, and his voice was harsh with his tears, but she didn’t hear him, wouldn’t accept his pain.

But she knew it was true. She moistened her lips with her tongue. “She drowned?”

“Aye. The current isn’t all that strong in that particular place, but it’s erratic. There are thick water reeds that can hold a grown man under. We couldn’t find her. She was so very small, you see.”

She turned her face away. Magnus felt her stiffen, even though she didn’t seem to move at all. She stiffened and she went away from him and he couldn’t bear it.

“Zarabeth, don’t.”

She made no response.

Then suddenly she turned her head to face him. She simply stared at him; then she began laughing. It was an ugly sound, raw and harsh, and she was gasping out the words through her laughter. “She tried to save you! She thought you were drowning! That little girl thought only to save you! By all the gods, ’twas madness! Why didn’t you drown? Why? I hate you! You killed her, you wanted her dead, you—”

Pain ripped through him. He rose unsteadily to his feet. Her laughing stopped. Her face was pale, her eyes dark and vague. Then she closed her eyes and turned her face away from him. Defeated, he pulled the blanket over her, then turned on his heel and left the chamber.

Horkel awaited him outside. He waved at the closed door. “The woman is all right?”

“No.”

Magnus started at the sudden burst of loud weeping. It was piercing and heartbroken. He started forward. Had Ingunn finally forgotten her hatred of Zarabeth? To his astonishment, it was his aunt Eldrid, and she’d covered her face with her hands and was screaming tears and fury, rocking back and forth on the wooden bench.