Lord of Raven's Peak (Viking Era 3) - Page 68

Laren saw the pain on Merrik’s face. Raw anger shot through her. She grabbed Taby’s arm and jerked him back to face her. “How can you act so to the man who saved your life? The man who also saved my life? The man who will restore you to your proper position?”

He kept his head down, scuffing his bare toes into the hard earth.

“Answer me, Taby! You are of royal lineage and yet you behave like a thrall’s get! What is the matter with you?”

“He doesn’t love me, Laren.”

She jerked back, momentarily stunned. “What did you say?”

“He doesn’t love me. If he did, he wouldn’t leave me, he wouldn’t go tell Uncle Rollo where I was.”

“That is quite enough. Listen to me, Merrik loves you more than he loves anyone on this earth.”

Taby shook his head. “No he doesn’t. If he did,

he wouldn’t leave me. He’s even taking you with him.”

“Well, that is different. He finally came to realize that without me, he would have a difficult time convincing Uncle Rollo of anything. I know all the people in Uncle Rollo’s court. I can help him. He needs me. He’s leaving you here so he can be certain you’ll be safe, nothing more. He can’t be worried about you, else he would endanger himself.”

“He doesn’t worry about you?”

“Not overmuch. I have proved I can survive.”

“So have I, Laren.”

“Ah, but you’re a stubborn little pullet.” She ran her fingers through his thick hair. “Listen to me, Taby. Merrik takes me because I will be useful to him. He doesn’t take you because he loves you and doesn’t want to take any chances with your being hurt.”

“He doesn’t care if you’re hurt?”

Even as she shook her head, she knew he did care, but it was nothing compared to his feelings for Taby, feelings she knew he didn’t understand, but so strong nonetheless that he was helpless against them. She accepted that and with the acceptance she felt a lurching of pain deep inside her.

“I won’t be hurt,” she said, rising. She kept her hand on Taby’s shoulder. “I want you to go to Merrik now. Do not use his love for you against him. I expect you to act the man you will one day become.”

Taby looked at her for a very long time. Then he looked toward Merrik who was speaking to Oleg and Roran, his body stiff with silent pain.

He walked slowly to him. When Merrik turned to look down at the boy, the blanked pain in his eyes turned to delight and relief. He clasped the child to him and closed his eyes, even as he spoke quietly in Taby’s ear. What was he telling him? Even when Merrik found his release with her, even when he laughed with her, he had never looked at her with such joy and tenderness. For the first time in her life, Laren found herself jealous of her little brother. She felt sour resentment roil in her belly, and she swallowed, forcing herself to turn away.

She sought out Sarla, to hug her good-bye once again, for there was really no other reason. As they walked side by side down the winding trail to the dock, she told her how to combine cloudberries with mashed hazelnuts to flavor venison-and-onion stew, something she’d already done two days before. Sarla looked earnest and nodded.

20

“ATALE, LAREN, a tale!”

“Aye,” Roran said. “You, mistress, you sit there with nothing to do, doubtless dreaming about that smiling sod, Merrik, whilst we break our backs at the oars.”

The wind had picked up and the men had rested their oars. They all turned about on their sea chests to face her. She smiled and said, “I will tell you a true story. Listen now. Duke Rollo’s lieutenant, Weland, tells of how Charles the Third, the Frankish king, ordered my uncle present himself in Paris to swear fealty to him. Charles commanded Rollo to kneel before him and kiss his foot in homage. My uncle Rollo indeed went down on his knees, with all solemnity, you understand, but he didn’t kiss the king’s foot. No, he grabbed his foot and jerked upward, sending the king toppling over the back of his throne to land flat on his back.”

Merrik and his men shouted with laughter. “And what did the king do?” Old Firren asked, then spat over the side of the longboat.

“His men picked him up and held their breaths. They were scared he would order them to kill Rollo. They weren’t stupid men, and they knew many of them wouldn’t survive such a contest of sheer strength. King Charles stood there, dusting off his beautiful robe of purple wool, and just stared at Rollo. The men shuffled their feet, their fear growing. Then, to their joy, King Charles smiled. Then he threw back his head and laughed. He told them all that he was pleased by Rollo’s insolent violence because it proved to him that the Viking overlord would control any marauders who dared to sail down the Seine and plunder the towns. He is called Charles the Simple, you know, a name he does not merit, at least in his dealings with my uncle. He gave all the northwest lands to Rollo in exchange for protection. There have been no raids of any seriousness in five years. All the Danes and Norwegians respect and fear my uncle, for he has many well-trained men and is also building fortifications and manning them. The Franks under King Charles live in peace for the first time in many, many years.”

Oleg scratched his four-day growth of beard. “I heard it said that your uncle refused to go to Paris to swear fealty. I heard he sent a message to the Frank king telling him that ‘We know no master. We are all equal.’ Then he spat upon the message and rubbed his thumb in it.”

“If my uncle said that, I don’t know of it. It sounds like him though. He is ruthless and arrogant; he fears no man. He did go to Paris, I do know that for certain. Also I never knew Weland to lie. Otta, my uncle’s minister, also tells the same story.” She paused a moment, then added, “Perhaps Rollo was wary of King Alfred of the Saxons a long time ago. But Alfred has been dead now nearly two decades so there is no one to disturb Rollo’s sleep, even his relatives, the earls of Orkney, who occasionally send him threats that they will destroy him if he doesn’t give them some of his vast holdings. Aye, the earls of Orkney are a vicious, nasty lot.”

“So it is true that Rollo comes from the Orkneys?”

“Aye, it’s true. Uncle Rollo told me once a long time ago that they were a savage clan.”

Tags: Catherine Coulter Viking Era Historical
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