Ingunn, he thought. It had to be. Who was the other woman?
“So,” he said, “we have three men and three women.”
“Aye, ’tis so.”
Magnus rose and looked toward the horizon. “He travels to the Oslo Fjord. I wager he has a vessel there, waiting for him, and I wager it is finely provisioned. Then he plans to leave Norway.”
Ragnar came up to him. “How old are the tracks?”
Eines turned his head away.
But Magnus knew. “They will make the fjord and their vessel before we can catch up with them.”
“Did she go with him willingly?”
Magnus turned to Ragnar then, saying in a low voice, “I know that you dislike her. But your reason is a paltry one, Ragnar. She took advantage of you, aye, that wasn’t well done of her, for you had come to pity her and mayhap even trust her a little, but attend me. She was terrified for Lotti. She could think only of saving her little sister. Rid yourself of your dislike of her, else I must rid myself of a man I have held as a brother for many years.”
Ragnar’s face was frozen.
“Would you not have done the same thing were your sister in danger? You would have killed, would you not, without thought? She did not want to hurt you, only escape you.”
“She is a woman.”
Magnus laughed at that. “Aye, she is, and she is my wife now. Make your peace with her.”
“I do not believe we will find her so that I can make peace, Magnus.” He turned now and placed both hands on his friend’s shoulders. “You said it yourself: Orm will reach his vessel before we can catch up to him.”
Magnus shrugged him off. “Let us ride.”
But he knew that they should turn back and finish the repairs on the Sea Wind’s steering oar. But something made him kick Thorgell in the sides. He would ride to the edge of the fjord before he gave it up.
The horses were blowing hard when finally Magnus call
ed a halt. There were six of them, all tough men, all seasoned warriors, armed and ready to fight. By Thor, he wanted Orm. He wanted to kill him. He cared not that Ingolfsson had a prior claim. Orm had taken Zarabeth.
He raised his eyes to the darkened sky. Thick gray clouds floated past the half-moon. It was quiet, so very quiet, and his thoughts were screams inside his head. His son, Lotti, and now Zarabeth. Had he sinned so grievously? Which gods had he so offended? No, he wouldn’t believe that Zarabeth was dead. He wouldn’t believe that Orm would reach his vessel first.
Zarabeth didn’t look back. She focused on the line of pine trees across the meadow. She ran until the stitch in her side was so bad she was holding her arms around herself. But she didn’t stop. It was a twisted dead branch that tripped her, and she went flying. The grass was tall here, and it softened her fall.
She lay on her face, not moving, feeling the roiling pain through her chest as she tried to breathe. Then she heard the pounding of horses’ hooves. Closer and closer. She pressed her cheek to the grass, and the pounding was louder and the earth was shaking beneath her face.
“By Thor, she is hurt!”
It was Orm. She lurched up and tried to run, but she stumbled again, and would have fallen except Orm leaned off his horse and jerked her up around the waist. He held her against his side until he had ridden out of the tall grass. He set her down then. He didn’t move, merely looked down at her.
“Why did you try to escape me, Zarabeth? I told you that you should not try. Now I have no choice. I will have to punish you.”
She raised her head then. His face was as calm as his voice, but his eyes had darkened. They were glittering in the bright sunlight, and there was a wildness in them that stilled her tongue. She stood there saying nothing.
“Answer me, Zarabeth.”
“I want to go home. I want to return to Magnus.”
He laughed. “When we reach York I will have another slave collar put about your white neck. Come here.”
He carried her back to camp. His arms around her were gentle. He said nothing. She was afraid to face him. She feared she would see the madness in his eyes.
A fire was burning sluggishly. The smell of roasting pheasant was strong. Kol was sitting there on a log, holding his head in his hands. He looked up at her and she knew he would kill her if he had the chance. Ingunn was pale with rage. The other woman, Zarabeth realized now, had been beaten. She was bent, her eyes reddened from crying. She was in obvious pain.