Lord of Raven's Peak

by Catherine Coulter

  “He can only smell the foul odors of savages!”

  “That’s true enough,” Merrik said, laughing, “but the night is clear. Stay here if you wish and keep drinking. I will take my wife to my bed.”

  They were given advice in the marriage bed, all of it very specific, all of it accompanied with laughter as both men and women played their parts as the bride and groom.

  Merrik believed her embarrassed until they stepped inside the sleeping chamber and she said, “I trust you took note of all they said, Merrik.”

  “Aye,” he said, and pulled her against him. “I heard everything.”

  “I think,” she said, leaning her forehead against his shoulder, “that I’m still afraid. This is all very new to me, Merrik, despite all that I’ve seen in the past two years, and I have seen more than I should.”

  “I know, sweeting, but it isn’t important now. What is important is us. I won’t hurt you. I could never hurt you.”

  “I know,” she whispered. She felt the allure of him, the temptation of him, and what he would give to her. Still, she just looked up at him, waiting.

  He smiled at her and sifted his fingers through her hair, pulling loose the tangles. “Trust me,” he said, “just trust me.” He leaned down and kissed her, slowly, easily, as if there were nothing more he wished to do. He lifted his face.

  “The night is long before us,” he said.

  18

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING Laren stood beside Sarla, who was stirring the porridge. Very few men were upright, many more were sprawled on their backs, appearing quite dead save for the occasional moans and snores. The women, more stoic, went about their chores, more slowly than usual, but still they worked, looked at the men, and shook their heads. The children, not stupid, spoke quietly whilst in the longhouse.

  “That was a wonderful feast,” Sarla said. “I wish to hear the rest of the story tonight.”

  “Aye, you shall,” Laren said. “Where is Taby?”

  “He is with Kenna and the other boys outside. They are practicing with their swords, Oleg their teacher.”

  “Oleg isn’t holding his head and moaning?”

  “Oh no, Oleg never suffers when he drinks too much mead. Nor do you, I see.”

  “I don’t know. Last night was the first night in my life I have drunk so very much.”

  “You felt all right when Merrik took you away last night?”

  “Aye, I felt wonderful.”

  “You look wonderful this morning. You look very happy, very pleased with yourself.”

  Laren didn’t say anything. She was looking toward the entrance of the longhouse. Merrik stood there in the open doorway, the brilliant morning sun behind him, and he looked a golden god with wet hair from his bath. He saw her, stepped forward, and smiled.

  She felt the impact of him, relentless and commanding, irresistible and growing stronger, she could feel it, stronger and deeper, pulling at her, luring her, claiming her, and she saw herself the previous night, her bare hand clasped between his two larger ones, her legs between his, the slide of his hair smooth and vibrant against her flesh, her breasts against the rich golden fur of his chest. The image was softly blurred in her mind, but the remembered feel of him was stark. She’d not lied to him. She’d been afraid, for there had been pain that first time with him, and she had tried to twist free of him and his invasion of her body.

  He was walking toward her, his stride that of a man who knew himself to be the master, coming to her, a woman who was his and his alone, a woman he now knew, a woman he was studying thoughtfully, his brow furrowed even as he smiled.

  She saw another smile of his in her mind, clear as the soft summer air, the curve of his mouth when he’d raised his head from her belly, and seen her gasping, her breasts heaving, as she’d tried to calm her breathing, and he’d known the immense pleasure he’d given her with his mouth, was pleased with her for yielding to him, trusting him with herself, and now he wanted more, he wanted to come inside her and she wanted him there as well, deep inside her, become part of her, melding with her until they were inseparable. His smile stopped then as he’d raised her legs and spread them and come between them, staring down at her woman’s flesh, touching her, and she’d felt the slickness of herself on his fingers, saw his eyes close briefly as he’d felt her, resting his fingers there for a long moment, just feeling her, and then he was easing into her and she’d felt herself shudder with the strength of the feelings that washed through her and she’d wanted more and more and he was there, over her, always giving even as he took, always there with her, never leaving her, even in that instant when his own pleasure had gripped him and he’d thrown back his head and yelled his release. She’d held him tightly to her, reveling in what she had brought him to, so grateful that he had found her, and that he was the man he was.

  Laren hadn’t realized she was standing there, staring at her husband, not moving, just staring, her lips parted, her eyes wide on his face.

  He stopped in front of her, and lifted her chin in his palm. “It is only the beginning,” he said, leaned down and kissed her mouth. “Only the beginning.”

  “Will you always be thus with me?”

  “Aye, as you will be with me as well.” He kissed her again, gently, lightly, his tongue tracing over her lips. “I should have taken you to the bathing hut with me. Next time I shall. I’ll hold you on my lap with you facing me and raise you so that you can take me inside you. I think you will enjoy that.”

  Her breasts ached. She leaned into him, all that she felt writ clear in her eyes, and he wondered how he had deserved such good fortune. “You did well last night, wife. You pleased me mightily.” He lightly touched her breasts simply because he had to, he had no choice in the matter, then quickly stepped back.

  “There is the matter of practice, Merrik,” she said, trying to smile, but desire held her now and all she wanted was to have him hold her and stroke and kiss her. To feel his mouth on hers, to feel his tongue lightly touching hers, made her lean forward again.

  He sucked in his breath, grasped her upper arms in his hands and held her still. “I cannot please you now, but I want to, the gods know I want to very much.”

  Oleg was there, some feet away from him, waiting. “When you are ready, Merrik, we will speak with each of our people. We should not wait too much longer, for memories blur and people forget.”

  “Aye,” Merrik said, kissed her once more and left her.

  “They are questioning everyone to see where they were when Erik was killed,” Sarla said.

  Laren didn’t say anything. She was suddenly thinking that the man who had struck Erik with the rock wouldn’t simply blurt out his guilt when confronted. No, he would have thought about this, reasoned it out and devised a story that would be reasonable. Or a woman, she thought. A woman could have struck Erik down.

  She looked after her new husband, striding tall and determined beside Oleg. She tasted the warmth and sweetness of him on her mouth, the delight of him throughout her body. She cooled suddenly, her mind sharp and clear. She felt deep fear of the unknown man or woman who had passed her on the trail, looking down at her, knowing she would be blamed. And then, quite suddenly, she realized she hadn’t been completely unconscious when that man had passed her. She saw him lean over her, staring down at her, then rising, smiling. No sound from him, just that smile of his. If only she could see him. Ah, but she knew now it was a man, for that silent smile sounded yet in her mind.

  She had to find Merrik.

  Whose laughter?

  “ . . . Prince Ninian was gone with no trace. The king was beside himself with grief. He took to his bed, refusing to eat or to drink. On the third day, he lay weak and uncaring about himself, about his kingdom, guilt overcoming all. He had lost Ninian and thus he had failed and didn’t deserve to live. He hadn’t kept the child safe and he knew Ninian was the future and now that future was blighted and it was all his fault.

  “Suddenly, he saw a faint shadow form behi
nd the candlelight. He stared at it, his mouth opening in awe and fear as the shadow grew and grew, becoming more and more solid, until finally, it was a man. It was a Viking warrior, huge sword in his hand, garbed in a rough bearskin, a pounded gold helmet on his head, his eyes a beautiful startling blue. The warrior stared at him, then said, contempt lacing his words, ‘You will cease your grieving. You are the king. You will act the king. If you do not, your daughters will force themselves into power upon your death, placing their sodden, weak-willed husbands on the throne. Indeed I know that it is Helga’s husband, Fromm, who will take your place. Helga’s magic is greater than Ferlain’s. Ferlain and her husband, Cardle, will both die from poisoning.

  “ ‘Rise now and resume your duties. Eat and drink and regain your strength. Bathe and robe yourself. Become once again the man you are supposed to be.’

  “ ‘But Ninian, my beautiful boy, what of him?’

  “ ‘I will fetch him now. When I return with him, I will see to it that your daughters and their husbands receive the punishment due them.’

  “ ‘Ninian is not dead?’

  “The warrior shook his head, the gold helmet catching the light of the candle flame, brilliant and dazzling as the midday sun.

  “ ‘But who are you? How do you know these things?’

  “The Viking warrior said, ‘Rise and be ready to receive Ninian. You will deal with your daughters and their husbands. Beware of Helga. She called forth the demons to kill Ninian. She will try to kill you as well.’

  “The king leapt out of the bed. He felt young and incredibly strong, his days of privation forgotten. He wanted to touch the Viking warrior, but even as he walked toward him, the warrior seemed to retreat from him, though the king knew he hadn’t moved. The air was still and warm and the warrior just seemed to grow dimmer until he was a veil spun of the finest silk, then he was naught but a brief shadow, then nothing at all.

  “The king stood there, fear curdling in his belly. Then, because he was the king, indomitable and decisive, he yelled for his servants. After he had supped and drunk his fill, he returned to his vast chamber to await the return of Ninian and the Viking warrior.

  “He had not long to wait. One moment he was alone, hopeful in his solitude, and the next, there stood Ninian, alone now, dirty as a village urchin and looking healthy as the day he left. His clothes were torn, his knees scraped, but he was smiling, by all the gods, he looked very well indeed. The king dropped to his knees and gathered the boy to him.

  “It was a joyous reunion until the king realized Ninian was somehow different. He drew back, tracing his fingertips over his beloved face, and said, ‘Where have you been? What befell you?’

  “ ‘I have visited the netherworld that lies beneath the desert sands far to the south and east of here. I stayed with the demon of the desert sands, an odd title, Father, but that is who he said he was. He told me that I would remain with him forever, that I would become his heir. I told him that I couldn’t remain with him, that I belonged here, with you, here with all our people, that I was needed.

  “ ‘He would not listen to me. I told him that he had to return me or the Viking warrior would come and hurt him. He laughed, Father. He laughed loudly, then, suddenly, he choked. His face turned blue and he clutched his throat. Then, the Viking warrior was there and he was not laughing. He raised his hand and the choking stopped. He watched the demon regain his breath, then told the demon of the desert sands that even though he was his brother, what he had done was against all their rules. He told him that he had the agreement of all the higher demons and that he would be forced to remain buried in his netherworld for one hundred years as his punishment. The demon of the desert sands begged and pleaded with the Viking warrior, but he just stood there, shaking his head. He raised his sword and the demon cowered away from him and left us alone.

  “ ‘Then the warrior held me against him and suddenly I was here, Father, with you.’

  “After the king had visited with his son, he gave him over to the servants to bathe him and garb him well. Then he called for his daughters and their husbands. Helga and Ferlain believed they were being called to their father’s deathbed to receive his blessing. Imagine their consternation when they saw him, hale and strong, seated on his throne, garbed in his finest silks. Their husbands, Fromm and Cardle, stood back, not understanding why their wives looked pale and ill. They bowed to their father-in-law, bidding him good day. They remarked to him that he looked in excellent health, contrary to what they’d heard. They trusted he’d come to accept that Prince Ninian was dead.

  “The king merely smiled at them and bade them seat themselves on a bench against the whitewashed wall of the huge chamber. Then he said, ‘Helga, come here.’

  “She did, forcing herself to smile, but surely nothing was lost yet. So he looked healthy, so perhaps he was resigned to Ninian’s death. She would see to it that he sickened soon enough. She wondered if he had asked them here to announce that now because Ninian was gone from them, Fromm would be his heir. That made her smile in truth now as she approached her father.

  “She bowed before him. ‘You look well, Father,’ she said.

  “ ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘All of us look well.’

  “ ‘We are all very sorry for Ninian’s disappearance, Father. We pray you are not too distraught.’

  “ ‘Nay,’ the king said. ‘I am very well, as I told you.’

  “ ‘Do you ask us here to proclaim that our husbands are now your heirs?’

  “ ‘Oh no,’ the king said. ‘I bade you here to welcome back your brother.’ He called out and Ninian came from behind the thick crimson draperies behind the king’s throne.

  “Helga shrieked. ‘It is a demon! A witch!’

  “ ‘Nay,’ said the king. ‘It is you who are the demon and the witch, both you and your weak sister. As of this moment, you are no longer my daughters. Your husbands are no longer my sons-in-law. All of you are banished as of this day. Go and be damned, all of you!’

  “Helga felt fury wash over her. She raised her arms to the sky and shrieked, ‘Demons, come to me now! Strike down the man and the child! Kill them!’

  “But no demons appeared. The Viking warrior was there, standing suddenly before them, radiant and shimmering, as if the sun were shining behind him. Helga cried out and stepped back.

  “The warrior raised his sword high, kissed its finely worked iron handle, then said, ‘What is due you, Helga? You are the evil one, Ferlain is only weak, her powers enhanced only by yours. As for you men, you wretched husbands, you are pitiful. What should I do with you?”’

  Laren quieted and looked down at her feet. There was utter silence. She slowly raised her head and looked at Merrik. “If you were the Viking warrior, what would you do, Merrik?”

  “I would kill Helga and banish the other three.”

  Laren smiled. “Do you agree, Oleg?”

  “Aye, spit the witch on his sword!”

  “Aye! Aye!”

  Even the women yelled to kill Helga.

  Laren waited until they quieted again. “All of you are right, in a sense. The warrior didn’t spit Helga on his sword. He walked up to her, stared down at her, and spoke softly, very softly, strange words that even she had never heard. It sounded to the king like a strange benediction. The warrior’s voice was so very smooth and steady. He raised his hand over her head, just held his hand there. She didn’t move, didn’t say a word. It was as if she were turned to stone. In the next instant, she began to fade away, growing dimmer and dimmer until naught remained but an armlet of solid gold that suddenly fell to the floor, thudding loudly. No one said a word, even her husband, Fromm.

  “The king once again told the others to leave and so they did, grateful that they hadn’t been made to disappear like Helga. The Viking warrior walked back to the king and Ninian. He said, ‘I have gained my freedom now. I will return to you, Ninian, but as a man. I will still guard you, but it will be with a mortal’s life and a mortal’s strength. Lo
ok for me, Ninian, for I will come back.’

  “With those words, the Viking warrior, just like Helga, paled into nothingness, at last simply clear air against the whitewashed wall.”

  Laren raised her hands and said finally, “It is over.”

  “But did the Viking warrior return as he promised?”

  Laren grinned toward Merrik. “Aye, he will return, and he will protect Ninian.”

  When Merrik lifted the woolen blanket and eased down onto the box bed beside her, he said, “Are their names really Helga and Ferlain?”

  “Aye.”

  “I am the Viking warrior.”

  “Aye, you are.”

  “Why didn’t Taby say anything?”

  “I told him not to.”

  “Ah. Do you truly believe it is Helga behind your abduction?”

  “I don’t know. Her dislike of Taby and me was the most obvious. The husbands aren’t quite as stupid as I made them out to be, or as innocent. Fromm is a huge man, ugly and vicious. Cardle is weak-chinned with stooped shoulders. He whines when he doesn’t get his way. No two men could be more unalike than they.”

  “I will see, won’t I?”

  “Aye, we will see together, Merrik.”

  He held silent, frowning into the darkness. “Nay, you will remain here at Malverne. It is now your home, your responsibility. Besides, I would keep both you and Taby safe. It was my vow to you.”

  “Nay, I must come with you. You do not know these people. I do. I could protect you. We will leave Taby here.”

  “You will obey me, Laren. You are my wife. You will obey me. I do not need your protection.”

  “Stubborn man,” she said under her breath, but knew he’d heard her. Before he could reply, she rolled over to him and grabbed his face between her two hands. She kissed him, missing his mouth, then finding it in the darkness, kissing him hard until he parted his lips, and she slipped her tongue within to find his and feel the warmth and sweetness of him.

  “You think to seduce me,” he said, his voice bemused, for she was innocent, yet she had no thought to hide from him, to play the coy maid, or allow him alone to direct their lovemaking.