Lord of Raven's Peak

by Catherine Coulter

“I imagine that Cleve cares very much.” He turned to him. “Are you all right?”

  “My arm hurts, but he didn’t break it. I thank you, my lord.”

  “He’s a slave!” Deglin shouted.

  “No he isn’t,” Merrik said. He faced them all now, looking at each face in turn. “He is now a free man. All of you heed my words. Cleve is a free man. He is now my man.”

  “Ah,” Olaf Thoragasson said, “then if he is a free man, make him pay the Danegeld for Erik’s death. If he doesn’t have the Danegeld, then he must die, and by your hand.”

  “Wait!” It was Deglin again. “She killed Erik, not this ugly heathen. Get her, let her die, for she is a slave.”

  Merrik merely shook his head.

  “Then he must pay the Danegeld!” Deglin shrieked. “He murdered your brother, she with him. All know it!”

  “There she is, ask her, ask her!”

  Laren stood in the shadows, still and silent. Merrik knew she had silver from her stories, and some jewelry, but surely not enough for Danegeld, surely not enough for both her and Cleve.

  Cleve said to Merrik, his voice loud and strong, “My lord, Deglin is right. I killed Erik, not Laren. He had hurt her and she escaped him. I struck him with the rock in my anger. I alone am responsible.”

  “No!” Laren ran to him, grabbing his arms, shaking him, making him look at her. “You will not lie, Cleve, not for me! I didn’t kill him and neither did you.” She turned then to all the men and women standing there, staring at her, fury on some faces, uncertainty on others. She saw Sarla standing by the fire pit, slowly stirring a boar-meat stew, saying nothing, her hand turning the giant wooden spoon, evenly, smoothly.

  “Of course you killed him, there is none other.” This was from one of Erik’s men. “He was much admired, a brave man, an honorable man.”

  “Aye, aye!”

  Suddenly, Sarla called out, “Silence, all of you!” Slowly, she walked through the people to Merrik. She raised her voice then and said, “I will not allow Cleve and Laren to be blamed. I killed Erik. I alone. He struck me many times since his parents died, since he became the lord here, and I hated him. He followed Laren to Raven’s Peak to rape her. All of you know how he lusted after her even though she belonged to Merrik, his brother. He cared not. His lust governed him. She fought him and managed to escape him. I saw her run away. Then I struck him dead. They had nothing to do with it.”

  There was pandemonium.

  Merrik looked at her breast, at the streaks of purple and yellow, at the blunt outlines of Erik’s fingers where he’d kneaded her flesh deep and hard.

  He reached out his hand and lightly cupped her breast in his palm. She felt the warmth of him, the power of him, and she knew she wanted him more than she ever had, even now, when there was more pain and misery between them than ever before. She wanted to press against his hand. She wanted to lean into his strength, to feel him holding her, to know that he believed her and would stand beside her. She wanted to kiss him, to taste the heat of him, to experience again the incredible feelings he’d given her once, so long ago now, it seemed. But she stood frozen before him, unmoving, and he felt only the stiffness of her, the wariness. Now he knew that she watched his hand, watched as his fingers lightly moved over the bruises, then she looked up and he couldn’t hide the fury in his eyes from her.

  He’d come upon her without warning, and she’d tried to cover herself, but she hadn’t been in time.

  He said, “Your gown is torn beyond repair. I will ask Sarla to give you another.”

  He slowly lifted his fingers from her breast then and turned away from her. He said, not looking at her, “Does your breast hurt?”

  She shook her head, realized he wasn’t looking at her, and said, “No, not very much.”

  “A woman’s flesh is very tender there. You are lying. I’m sorry my brother did that to you. But he is dead and that is more punishment than he deserved.”

  “I didn’t kill him, Merrik. Neither did Cleve nor did Sarla. They were just trying to protect me.”

  He laughed then, a low, deep laugh, and he was still laughing when he turned again to face her. The laughter suddenly died. “Cover yourself,” he said, and then she saw it—the hunger in him, the need. Was it just for her, or would any woman do?

  She did, quickly, jerking the material up against her shoulder. She raised her chin, looking at him straightly. “Why? You do not wish Taby to know that you were staring at his sister? Would it upset him, this lust of yours, or do you merely look at me because there is no other woman who you believe belongs to you?”

  “No, this time I had no thought of Taby,” he said. He walked to the box bed and sat down. He leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees. He appeared to be studying the woven wool mat that covered the ground. “Do you really belong to me, Laren?”

  “You seem to accept me thus since I am Taby’s sister.”

  “When I came into you, when I broke through your virginity and touched your womb, I had no thought of you as Taby’s sister.”

  “You speak bluntly, Merrik.”

  “Aye, and you welcomed me until I hurt you. Your breasts are beautiful. I had forgotten.”

  “Many women have beautiful breasts, no doubt even Letta.”

  “I don’t care about her breasts, truth be told. I wish she and her family would leave Malverne.” He paused a moment, then smiled bitterly down at his clasped hands. “I am the master here now. I believe I will tell them to go. I dislike Letta’s possessiveness and her father’s interference. I dislike her conceit.” He rose. “It is odd. I didn’t want Malverne. I never considered that it would be mine. If Erik had a son, I would guard Malverne for him with my life until he was of an age to take it over. I cannot give Malverne to Kenna, though the boy is smart and brave. He is a bastard and none would stand for it. This is a damnable situation.”

  “I didn’t kill Erik.”

  He sighed. “I believe you. However, I cannot be certain about Cleve. He is protective of you. If he saw that Erik was going to rape you, don’t you believe he could have easily struck him down?”

  “Yes, he could have, but he didn’t. Don’t you understand? If Cleve killed him, he would have run back down that same path. He would have seen me unconscious. He would have known that I would be blamed.”

  Suddenly Merrik raised his head. He smiled at her. “For that same reason, then, Sarla couldn’t have done it either.”

  She nodded.

  “That leaves us with a mystery, then, and I dislike mysteries. I thought the mystery of you and Taby would tease me into madness—your damnable lack of trust in me even though I passed your test—aye, that tale of yours was a test for me, to see if you could trust me—but this is beyond that, far beyond, for Erik, despite his faults, despite his growing conceit and arrogance, despite it all, he was still my brother. I must avenge him. You understand that, don’t you, Laren?”

  “Oh aye, Merrik, I understand vengeance.”

  He rose then and strode to her. He looked down at her, not touching her, just looking at her. “You have made a rare confusion of my life.” As if he couldn’t help himself, he gently lifted her chin in his palm, and stared at her. “Stay here. I will send Sarla to you with clothing.”

  “What will you do?”

  “I will speak to all my people. I will speak to them of loyalty and show them Cleve’s and Sarla’s innocence. They are already doubtful, believing that they confessed only to save you. That will leave you, Laren, in their minds. None other, just you. I will deal with it, for by all the gods, I have no choice.”

  He left her standing there, her face pale, wondering what he would do, if he would be forced to kill her, a miserable slave who murdered his brother, despite Taby.

  Sarla’s gown hung loose on Laren, for she had no belt to fasten it to her waist. The overtunic hung nearly to her knees and even the two brooches couldn’t make it drape properly.

  When she walked into the outer chamber, only the w
omen were there, not more than a dozen, all working: smoking herring just brought up from the fjord, cleaning cloth before dyeing it, working the large loom in the corner of the longhouse, kneading bread in the huge trough, so many things they were doing, all everyday, very normal household chores, and Laren realized she wanted to be part of it. She walked to the fire pit, to Sarla, and thanked her for the gown.

  Sarla looked at her up and down and gave her a crooked grin. “You look passing strange, Laren. You are still so very thin. Come, eat some porridge.”

  “After I eat I want to cook.”

  “Aye, it is your punishment for your insolence.” She paused, then added quietly, “Though I doubt the punishment is still in effect since Erik is dead.”

  “I want to cook.”

  “Do you feel all right?”

  “I wish you had not fed me the drug, for my dreams were vicious shadows all concealed in darkness.”

  “I just wanted you to be safe. Now everyone is thinking beyond the obvious. Merrik is wise in his speech.”

  “You weren’t wise, Sarla, neither you nor Cleve. You were foolish.”

  “I could not stand there by my fire pit stirring some ridiculous pot of stew whilst everyone accused you and Cleve of murdering Erik.”

  “You are very brave.”

  Sarla just looked at her. “Nay, I am weaker than you can imagine. Cleve is the one who is strong.” She paused, opened her mouth to say more, then just shook her head.

  “Have you seen Taby?”

  “He is with the other children outside. I believe Kenna is teaching him wrestling.” She shook her head. “I feel very sorry for Kenna. And for Caylis. Both she and Megot have nothing now. There is not much justice in that, I think.”

  “No, there isn’t.”

  “I didn’t realize until just this morning that Merrik is now master of Malverne. Oh, I knew Merrik was the master now, but I didn’t realize what it would mean. Letta told me. She is very pleased about it. She made me feel as though my time here were nearly over. I wanted to slap her.”

  “Don’t worry about that one. Merrik said since Malverne is now his, he will send the Thoragassons on their way. Perhaps he will do it today. Why don’t you tell Letta that she will be gone from Malverne much more quickly than you.”

  Sarla looked up to see Letta walking toward them. “By that smug look on her face, I don’t think Merrik has yet told them to leave.”

  Laren wanted to keep her temper and she knew she would lose it if she remained. She heard Sarla whisper “Coward!” but she kept walking away, more quickly now, until she heard Letta call out, “Stop, slave! I wish to speak to you.”

  She sighed, then turned. “What is it you wish now, Letta?”

  “My father is with Merrik right now. He is bargaining over your purchase price. He wants you, for he believes you have some worth as a skald, but to have a murderess in his longhouse distresses him. He fears you might became angered at him and kill him.”

  Laren just stared at her.

  Sarla said, “That is nonsense, Letta, and well you know it. You will hold your tongue. You are a guest here, nothing more, and you will cease strutting yourself about as mistress. You will cease tormenting Laren.”

  “Tormenting her! Ha! She has a hide tougher than that boar you were skinning.”

  “It is just that your torments are very childlike, Letta,” Laren said. “You are too simple in your spite. Perhaps you will improve as you gain years. It seems you are walking in that path.”

  Letta opened her mouth, but Laren forestalled her, saying quickly, her voice very mean, “Remember your pretty teeth, Letta. One by one. Do you understand?”

  Letta paled, turned on her heel, and left the longhouse.

  Sarla laughed. “Aye, she is on that path, but she can still be halted in her petty tracks.”

  Cleve walked to them, and he was shaking his head. “I waited until she had left you. Laren, Merrik is even now holding a meeting to discuss Erik’s murder. Here they call it the Thing. It is what they do to determine guilt and search for fair answers. I came to tell you. Most still believe you guilty, but now, at least, they’re discussing it.”

  Caylis came forward to stand beside Cleve. “I don’t think you’re guilty, but if you hadn’t come here, Erik wouldn’t be dead and my son and I would be safe.”

  She was right, but Laren said only, “I’m sorry, Caylis, but believe me, I did not kill him. I can do nothing about my presence here, for Merrik controls that.”

  “Aye, but Caylis is right,” Megot said. “Because you came we will become as nothing. Perhaps Merrik will even give us to his men to be used at their whim. I pray that Merrik will make us his mistresses, but I know that he now takes only you to his bed. I heard him and Erik once speaking of such things and Erik said Merrik was stupid to want what their parents had shared. He told Merrik that he would come to understand his wish was as flimsy as a dream once he had wedded Letta. He said Merrik would leave her soon enough and search out other women to bed.”

  All of this in front of Sarla, Laren thought. She supposed it was much the same amongst her own people, but she’d been too young to notice such things. There was no expression on Sarla’s face. None at all. Laren chanced to look at Cleve. She went very still. He was staring at Sarla, the look on his scarred face so tender, so very helpless, that she wanted to cry.

  There came a cry from outside the longhouse, then there was shouting and loud arguing. Then there was utter silence. Gradually they could hear the voices resume, heard the low rumblings of arguments, but controlled now. Then they heard Merrik’s voice but they couldn’t understand his words. Other voices were raised in question.

  “What is it?” Sarla said, and rushed toward the doorway.

  Oleg appeared in the entrance. He looked at each of them until he found Laren. He said quietly, “You’d best come now, Laren. Merrik has reached a decision and all will abide by it.”

  16

  MERRIK WATCHED HER walk to him, Oleg at her side, Sarla on her other side. He waited until she was standing before him, then said very quietly, “You will come with me now.”

  He took her hand and led her away. She heard the men’s voices, some clearly angry, others simply questioning. Then she heard Oleg say loudly, “It is right and just. Merrik is the lord of Malverne now. We will all heed his wishes.”

  What wishes?

  He continued silent until they had walked down the wide path to the fjord. He motioned to the pier. They walked out to the end and he pulled her down beside him, their feet dangling over the end of the pier. The water below was a calm light blue. She could see small ripples created by fish swimming just below the surface.

  The sun was bright overhead, the air soft and very warm. She couldn’t imagine snow covering everything. A cloud slid in front of the sun, but just for a moment. She waited silent.

  “You have two choices,” he said at last.

  She cocked her head to one side, staring now at his profile. Still he didn’t turn to face her.

  “You will wed with me and remain here at Malverne.” He turned to face her as he spoke. “Why do you look so surprised? Why do you shudder? Very well, then. If being my wife displeases you so very much, why, then, you can select the second choice. I will see that you are returned to your family. However, Taby will remain with me. I am making him my son.”

  “No!”

  “No what?”

  She just stared at him, shaking her head back and forth. He supposed he was pleased that for once he’d taken her utterly aback, but more than that, now he wanted her to tell him that she wanted to wed with him, that she—

  “I cannot wed you.”

  “Oh? You cannot or you will not?”

  “I cannot.”

  “Are you already married? I don’t think it was Thrasco who was the hopeful husband, was it? Or perhaps before you were a slave you were married off as a child?”

  “No, no, nothing like that.”

  “No, of course
you weren’t married. You were very much a virgin when I took you. Ah, I see. I am too beneath you to consider as a husband.”

  “No, never.”

  “More puzzles, more mysteries. Very well, Laren. Don’t forget you are my slave. Regardless of what you were before, now you are nothing more than a slave, one that many of my people believe also a murderess. I offer you the moon and the stars—at least that’s how a slave would see wedding the master of a large holding such as Malverne.”

  She jumped to her feet and stared down at him. “You cannot keep Taby.”

  “I can and I fully intend to.” He rose now, more slowly, to face her. He took her upper arms in his big hands. “Will you marry me or no?”

  She looked into the fjord and saw a school of herring racing through the water, very close to the smooth surface, leaping above, like darts of silver. She felt she could reach into the water and catch one, so close they were. She looked up at him now. She wanted to smooth the frown from his forehead, as she said very calmly, “I cannot marry you because I was promised to Askhold, heir of Rognvald, king of the Danelaw.”

  He jerked back as if she’d struck him. What she said was madness, surely . . . He stared at her, then at her loose-fitting gown and overtunic, not old or ragged, for it was Sarla’s, just very plain and too big for her, not garb the future queen of the Danelaw would wear. Something violent moved within him, something he didn’t understand, but accepted, just as he’d accepted her and he knew he’d accepted her for a very long time now, for probably longer than he realized. He believed her, tamped down on the fury raging deep within him, and said mildly, “The truth at last. Tell me the rest of it.”

  “Taby is indeed a prince. He and I were abducted from my sleeping chamber two years ago, and sold to a slave trader in the Rhineland.”

  “Who is your father?”

  “Our father, Hallad, is dead. However, Taby is the second male in line to succeed his uncle.”

  “His uncle, Laren?”

  She drew in a deep breath. “I haven’t said his name aloud in two years. Our uncle is Rollo, called the first duke by the Frankish king, Charles the Simple. As you know, he ceded Normandy to Rollo so that he would defend France against the raids of other Vikings.”