Lord of Falcon Ridge (Viking Era 4)

Cleve was also the emissary for Duke Rollo, the bastard who wanted Chessa for his son, William. It was Kerek who had told him this, all pleased with himself, and Ragnor had let him talk even though he already knew all of it, but it was Kerek’s duty to ask all the questions of these lowly creatures and then give an accurate report to him, Ragnor of York, his master. It mattered not what Ragnor already knew.

Aye, surely this Cleve was lowly. What was a slave even if he did become an emissary? By Odin-All-Father’s beard, he remained a lowly man with a smooth tongue. Ragnor didn’t even know if this Cleve’s tongue was that smooth, for he’d said little, merely sat quietly on the bench against the wall of the longhouse, watching and listening. Ragnor hated him for his control, so effortlessly exerted.

Ragnor said finally to Kerek, “We won’t allow him to take her anywhere.” He still stared at Cleve, unable to look away from him. Those damned eyes of his. “The man’s a slave, naught more than a miserable slave.”

“He’s a free man,” Kerek said. “Lord Merrik freed him some five years ago. He’s Duke Rollo’s emissary. I have already told you this.”

“Aye, but you didn’t draw the right judgment. None of that matters. He’s offal even though he does perhaps speak well. He could die easily. He should have in Dublin if—but that isn’t important now. He’s here and he’s alive. I will have Chessa.”

“Aye, you must have the princess, but we must move very carefully, I don’t want Cleve slitting your throat.”

Ragnor looked up at Kerek in some surprise. “You sound passionate. Do you want her for yourself? Aye, you lust after her, don’t you, Kerek? She’s a proud little bitch, surely you’ve seen that. She’d never part her legs for you.”

“She won’t for you either, my lord.”

Ragnor hissed, rising from the table, so angry he wanted to kill anyone, and Kerek was the closest.

“Sit down,” Kerek said, his voice suddenly so cold that Ragnor would have shivered if he’d been a small boy. He started to tell Kerek that he would hit him again, when Kerek said easily, “I know how we will keep the princess.”

“You do?”

“Aye, sit down again and listen to me. My lord.”

Ragnor sat down and tossed down a cup of mead. “I want that girl, Utta. She made the mead. She’s excellent.”

“You can’t have her. Now listen to me. My lord.”

“I don’t like you now, Kerek. I don’t like what you’ve become from a moment ago to now. Now you’re mocking me and I won’t stomach it. I allowed it before because you recognized that you were nothing compared to me. You knew that I was your master and you knew to obey me. You knew that you were to protect me with your life. But now, you seem to be insolent. Stop it or I will kill you.”

“If you kill me, you bloody fool, the princess will shove a knife into your meager heart. Is your mind so small you don’t remember how all you did was strike my face and she attacked you and knocked you off the dock?”

“She took me off guard. Also, I didn’t want to hurt her. It doesn’t look well for a strong man to harm a small girl. I allowed it, even allowed her to kick me

and shove me, but she will pay for that. I will kick her in the ribs again. I liked having her on the floor in front of me. I liked having her pant. That was nice.”

Kerek wondered how he’d let Ragnor get him off his course so easily. “Listen to me. My lord. William of Normandy will only marry a virgin.”

“Aye, no man of power would marry a girl other men had taken. So what?”

Kerek wanted to tell him that he was the stupidest cretin he’d ever known, but he merely smiled, thinking about Chessa, knowing she would come to deal well with Ragnor and with Olric, that she would some day save the Danelaw. He knew it. She wasn’t just an ordinary woman as she claimed. She was young, untried, but he knew what was in her, aye, he knew. He would make this marriage happen. Then he would advise her, teach her, let her discover herself the strength within her. And Turella would be there to teach her as well. Both of them would be there for her, always. He said patiently to Ragnor, “If you had raped the princess then William would have to relinquish her to you, for he couldn’t trust any issue from her body if perhaps she were pregnant.”

Ragnor stared at Kerek. “By Thor’s hammer, you’re stupid, Kerek. I wanted to take her but you stopped me. I could have planted my seed in her belly, but you stopped me.”

Kerek pictured his hands around Ragnor’s neck. He could practically feel the soft flesh sinking into the bones. He forced himself to control. “It doesn’t matter that you didn’t rape her. You need simply say that you did.”

“But she will deny it. I could beat her, then perhaps she would stay silent, perhaps even nod her head when I said it. But I would have to beat her senseless to gain that result.”

“You can’t beat her senseless, else Lord Rorik or Cleve would surely kill you despite your high position. That is the only thing that stills their hands against you. You must simply say that you forced her, that she is no longer a virgin, that indeed you forced her several times.”

“She will deny it and try to kill me for saying it.”

Kerek shrugged. “No woman wants to admit to being raped. Even the princess wouldn’t want to admit to it.” Ah, but the princess wasn’t like other women. She had the soul and spirit of a warrior. She would grow stronger under his tutelage, his and Turella’s. He said thoughtfully, “If she does deny it, why, who ever believes a woman? However, to be certain, I will say it is true also.” He said as an afterthought, “I won’t let her kill you.”

“You’re wrong about all of it, Kerek. She will scream and yell and probably attack me. She will do the same to you. She will never be submissive. She will never willingly obey me. I don’t want her. Let my father do away with my mother, she does naught save pull weeds in that garden of hers, then he can marry Chessa. I want that girl Utta. The mead is delicious, sweet and strong, and it makes me want her more each time I look at her. I think she wants me too and that’s why she makes the mead so well. It is for me that she brews it, not for Haakon, her brute of a husband.”

And Kerek thought, Let the gods give me grit.

She was avoiding him. Strangely, it bothered him. He didn’t like it. She seemed pale to him, withdrawn, which was difficult, for Hawkfell Island was crammed with people. The longhouse bulged at mealtimes. At least a good dozen men slept in the outer room of the bathing hut, and on the nights it was warm enough, most slept outside, close together for warmth, all the blankets on the island in use. Some men even slept in the byre.