Lord of Raven's Peak (Viking Era 3)

“It was a woman.”

She could only stare at him, then she shook her head. “I don’t know why I am so surprised. I have seen equal cruelty from both men and women. Why did she do it?”

“I wouldn’t bed her.”

She just shook her head at him. “Did it matter so much to you?”

“Aye,” he said shortly, “it mattered greatly to me.”

She saw that he would say no more and held her peace. Of all people, she knew what it was like to keep the darkness of the past close and quiet. “Do you hunt with Merrik today?”

He shook his head. “Nay, I am here only to eat some of your porridge, then I will work in the fields. Harvest is not long in coming now and there is need for every hand. Even Merrik will be in the barley fields soon.”

“And Erik?”

Cleve shrugged as he spooned porridge into a wooden bowl from the iron pot hanging from its chain over the fire pit.

“I last saw him taking a woman into the bathing hut with him. I doubt washing himself is all that is on his mind. I believe her name is Megot. She is short and too fat for my tastes, but her hair is as rich a gold as the barley in the field.”

“She’s very beautiful. I have eighteen silver pieces.”

He poured a bit of honey over the porridge. “That is a lot, Laren. I would give you silver if I but had any.”

“You don’t understand, Cleve. When I have enough, I will purchase all of us from Merrik and we will go home.”

“Home?”

“Aye, my home.”

He just looked at her, then shook his head. “How would we get there? Where is your home? Have you people who would take us in?”

She kneaded more quickly. “I don’t know. First I must have enough silver. Then I will worry about what comes next.”

“You will gain even more silver tonight. I fancy that Erik will call for you to speak. He punished only himself last night. I, like all the others, want to know what will happen to Grunlige the Dane.”

“Actually, I don’t know myself much of the time until the words just pop out of my mouth.”

He gazed at her in some astonishment. “You speak truly?”

“Aye, Grunlige is a wily man and sometimes he does things I never plan.”

Cleve thoughtfully spooned the porridge into his mouth. “I begin to think of him as a real man when you speak of him. To realize that he is naught more than a figment of your mind depresses me.”

“Don’t tell the others, all right?”

“Nay,” he said, grinning at her, “I shan’t.”

“Most of the time he is very real to me as well.”

She worked in silence now, and Cleve stood there eating. She chanced to look up. He was staring at Sarla. There was such tenderness in his eyes, she wanted to weep.

“Oh no,” she said.

He turned and smiled down at her. “Nay, Laren. I am no fool. Do you know that she doesn’t seem to mind the ugliness of my face? Sometimes when she smiles at me I don’t even think she sees the scar. There is only gentleness in her and kindness. And a liking for me, not that it matters. It is a great shame. She is wedded to that foul bully and I, well, I am not worthy to dry her tears.”

She looked at him and saw his pain and reminded herself yet again that life held little enough joy, and that any joy at all that came should be savored to the fullest.

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