by Phoebe Conn
No matter how difficult Jens and his brothers proved to be, when Raktor learned what had happened, he would not rest until he had extracted the most gruesome revenge possible for the death of his eldest son. The feud that had separated the Torgvalds and Vandahls for more than a generation would seem like a small squabble compared to the anger that would be generated over Oluf’s death. Not wishing Celiese to witness any further bloodshed, he gave her a stern command.
“Go at once to Olgrethe and tell her any story you can to make her leave the hall with you. Now go, take her away!” With a wide grin he entered the hall and scanned the crowd for Hagen. Seeing him on the opposite side of the room, he made his way through the boisterous gathering, stopping frequently to return a jest with a teasing response and deep laugh.
Estrid sat pouting angrily, surrounded by young men she thought impossibly silly, and having no intention of forgiving Mylan for leaving her alone for so long. When he walked by without even looking her way, she nearly screamed with indignation. How dare the man ignore her as if she did not exist? He had spent the entire day with her, never once mentioning how foolish she had been to break their engagement, and she had expected to leave the Vandahl home the next day engaged to him again. He was as handsome as ever, so dashing in his appearance and charming in his manner. She had thought Thulyn had invited her simply to give Mylan the opportunity to court her again without the formality of going to her home to do so.
Now, she did not know what to think, except that the Frenchwoman who had been his slave was far more attractive than she had been led to believe, and she was worried that he might have grown fond of the slender blonde. That was only natural, she supposed, for an unmarried man had needs that had to be satisfied somehow, but she would not be content until Mylan was finally her husband, and then she would make certain he never saw the pretty young woman ever again. What they could have been doing together to have gotten so dirty she could not imagine. Mylan was fond of his horses; perhaps they had been in the stable. But that mystery did not really concern her now that he had returned to the party. All that mattered was that he was again handsomely groomed, and she wanted him to return to her side where he belonged.
Celiese watched Mylan walk away and prayed it would not be the last time she saw him alive. Despite the warmth of the room, she felt chilled clear to her marrow, and she knew Olgrethe would see her mood and completely misunderstand its cause.
Andrick noticed Celiese approaching and whispered to his bride, “Something is wrong, I have never seen Celiese so pale. Perhaps you should convince her to go to her room if she is ill.”
Olgrethe turned to greet her longtime companion and had to agree. “Whatever have you and Mylan been doing? I care not what the secret might be, I insist you tell me all that happened between you two just now.” Eager for that confidence, Olgrethe drew near and waited for Celiese to respond.
“Will you please excuse us, Andrick?” Celiese smiled sweetly, hoping he would think she had some tantalizing bit of gossip to impart and allow his wife to leave. “I want to speak privately with Olgrethe, if I may.”
Seeing the merry sparkle in his bride’s eyes, Andrick could not resist the charms of two such pretty young women and readily agreed. “Of course, she will not be content until you have satisfied her curiosity, but do not be gone long, my love.”
“We will be no more than a moment,” Celiese assured him. “I believe Mylan wants to speak with you, why don’t you join him and Hagen while we are gone?” When the young man gave his wife a light kiss and walked away to join his brothers, Celiese took Olgrethe’s arm and led her toward the door. “I want no one to overhear my words, let us go to your room to talk.”
Olgrethe could barely contain her curiosity and followed willingly. Mylan had looked more than merely pleased with himself when he had escorted Celiese into the room, and she was certain he had asked her to again be his wife.
*
Mylan wasted no time in explaining to Hagen how he had become involved in a fight to the death with Oluf, and when Andrick joined them he enlisted his aid as well. With a few well-placed suggestions to several close relatives, they managed to draw the Torgvalds away from the center of the room, isolating them in one corner where they kept them amused and drinking steadily until most of the other guests had retired for the night. A few of those living close by had left for home, while others and those having to travel to more distant locations had been given lodgings for the night.
Aldred saw what his sons were doing and approved. As usual, Mylan had taken charge of a difficult situation and appeared to have it well in hand. He was speaking to the Torgvalds of nothing more serious than hunting, but watching their reactions closely in order to be better able to predict them. He was proud of all four of his sons, but Mylan had been his firstborn. That he was again looking so well and fit pleased the older man immensely, but they all had that night to survive before they could make any plans for the future.
When Aldred joined their small group, Mylan looked up in surprise to see the hall nearly empty and knew he could no longer delay in reporting Oluf’s death, and he proceeded to do so. As he saw it, Olgrethe’s brothers had gotten the better of him once, while he had outfought them in their own home in return. Things had stood even between them, but he was about to tip the scales, and the delicate balance they had held that day would be destroyed for all time if he did not take care.
He rose slowly to his feet. “We have never before met together as friends, and I deeply regret what I must tell you now.”
Ansgar did not bother to cover a wide yawn, and he finished the last of his ale before he interrupted rudely. “I want only to find a bed, as Oluf must have done.” With a sly wink he continued, “Knowing him, it is a bed with a wench in it!”
The Torgvalds’ jovial mood had not been dampened by his somber statement, and Mylan looked toward his father for assistance. Aldred shook his head and encouraged him to continue on his own. Clearing his throat, Mylan explained, “That is precisely the problem. Oluf did indeed try to bed a wench, who happened to be most unwilling.”
Frowning now, Ansgar leaned forward: “So what? That is not the first time some girl has refused him. Did he fail to change her mind?”
Flanked by Andrick and Hagen, who stood ready to help, Mylan made his point clear. “No, he did not. When I came to her defense we fought and I won. You will find his body at the docks, ready to be taken home in the morning.”
Jens leapt to his feet, not so surprised he could not insult an old enemy. “That’s a bloody lie! You never saw the day you could beat my brother at anything!”
Sorgen was so drunk he could scarcely follow the conversation, but when he turned to ask Korsor what had happened he found him asleep where he sat and so demanded an explanation from Mylan. “What has happened to Oluf?”
Mylan spoke distinctly to make certain he was understood. “I killed him.” He had no opportunity to say more as Jens lunged for his throat, knocking him into the wall where he grabbed hold of the enraged man to ward off his punishing blows. Now that the fight had begun in earnest, he was filled with the same furious anger he had turned upon Oluf. In his mind he saw only Celiese, and how defenseless so delicate a beauty would have been against brutes such as these. He would have swiftly killed Jens too, had his father and Andrick not pulled them apart. Hagen had drawn his knife so rapidly that Ansgar and Sorgen had had no opportunity to leave their seats before they were surrounded with Vandahls, each brandishing a dagger they clearly intended to use at the slightest provocation.
With the help of his kin to enforce his words, Aldred now took charge. “Enough!” he shouted, and when Jens had been forced back into his place beside his three brothers, he demanded their attention. “You have every right to be angry. Oluf’s death was a senseless tragedy he brought on himself, but it needn’t be the excuse to renew the feud between our families. We have all had too much to drink and are too tired to make any rational decisions tonight. In the mornin
g we will talk again when our tempers have cooled and our alternatives will be more readily apparent.”
“What difference will the morning make when Oluf will still be dead?” Jens snarled fiercely. He leaned over to shove Korsor off his stool, finally arousing him from a sleep so deep he had not heard the shouts of the fight right beside him. “We came here in peace, and we’ll not go home without having satisfaction for our brother’s murder!”
Mylan looked up then to see Celiese standing in the doorway. He wondered how long she had been there and motioned for her to approach them. “Did you tell Olgrethe of her brother’s death?”
“Yes, I stayed with her until she had cried herself to sleep, but she knew her brother’s vices well and does not blame us for his death.” Celiese came close enough to be understood without shouting, but not so near that the Torgvalds could touch her.
Jens’s pale blue eyes narrowed menacingly as he looked back at her. “It was you, wasn’t it? Oluf is dead because of you!”
Celiese made no attempt to reply, for Jens would never accept her explanation of what had occurred between her and his brother. She simply returned his icy stare with the same bitter hatred reflected in her eyes that shone in his. They were despicable villains all of them, and she was sorry no more than one had died that night.
Mylan watched closely as Celiese stood calmly returning the murderous glances the Torgvald brothers turned upon her. The hatred in the air was so thick he felt as though he were suffocating, yet she appeared to be impervious to their evil gazes. He could not bear to have her in the same room with such filth as they represented; “Olgrethe may awaken and need you, Celiese, please go back to her now and leave this to us to settle.”
“No!” Jens shouted hoarsely, “Give her to usâmy brother’s life is high enough price to have paid for her!”
“She is a free woman, not for sale at any price,” Mylan vowed promptly, somewhat surprised by how easily that truth came to his lips, but he did not like the hostile expression in his father’s eyes and hastened to enforce his words. “My father was right, this matter is too important to be settled tonight. You will be shown to a room, and do not try and leave it before dawn, as the door will be well guarded.” Signaling to his cousins, he ignored the loud curses sent his way as the Torgvalds were escorted from the hall.
Estrid was among the few ladies remaining in the room, and she had drawn close in order to hear what was being said. Clearly Celiese was the cause of all the mischief, and in her opinion the young woman should have been given to the Torgvalds in appeasement for Oluf’s death. She licked her lips slowly, and prayed Aldred would soon come to the same conclusion, for she had seen his reaction to Jens’s demand and thought it a strong possibility she might soon be rid of Celiese for good. Surely Mylan had defended her because he was a gentleman, but he would soon forget her charms when he had an equal for his wife.
She would go to him as soon as his father bid them all a good night. He had fought bravely and deserved the generous reward she planned to give. A wicked smile lifted the corner of her mouth. Yes indeed, she would bed Mylan that very night, and he would call her wife in the morning, or her family would demand that he did.
Without the Torgvalds present to argue Aldred was free to speak his mind. “Leave us, Celiese; this discussion no longer concerns you.”
Since there were still a dozen or so guests looking on, Celiese had no intention of leaving the hall when it seemed obvious Aldred had something important to say. “I prefer to stay,” she announced calmly, her tone not argumentative, but confident and proud.
Drawing himself up to his full height, Aldred dealt with her defiance swiftly. “You have brought disgrace upon the name of Vandahl not once but twice. I am tempted to hand you over to Jens right now, but that seems too cruel a fate even for you to suffer. I will send the Torgvalds on their way at first light, but you must leave here as well. You are no longer welcome in my home, and I want you gone for good by noon.”
“No!” Hagen shouted instantly. “You’ll not send Celiese away, for I want her as my wife!” His knife still drawn, he was determined to fight if there were no other means to get his way.
“What! That woman is no fit bride for you!” Aldred was appalled. He looked for Thulyn, but she had turned and hurried away, leaving the matter entirely in his hands to settle. He saw Erik pushing his way closer and feared his youngest son would speak for the former slave too, but it was Mylan who ended the controversy abruptly.
“If Celiese is any man’s wife she is mine,” he declared emphatically, challenging Hagen as well as his father to dispute him. His defiant glare and proud stance made them both back away, for neither cared to be his second victim that night.
Large tears welled up in Estrid’s eyes as she saw the man she wanted so badly state openly that he wanted another. Furious that he preferred a pretty slave to her, she ran from the room, all her hopes dashed for a secure future as the wife of the enormously wealthy Mylan Vandahl. She felt the same terror she’d known two years before when she’d broken her engagement to him when she’d thought he would not live to see their wedding day. Her delicate features contorted in a vicious mask, she fled from the people she was certain would be laughing at her, but none noticed her sudden departure, nor cared.
When Celiese realized all eyes were upon her, she responded in the most tactful and gracious manner possible. First she approached Hagen, and seeing his confusion finally understood that he truly did care for her, even if he had never been able to state his feelings in words. She did not want to hurt him now, but knew she must.
“I am greatly honored that you want me to be your wife, Hagen, but I cannot marry you when your father has banished me from his home. I will not be the cause of such unbearable strife in your family, and I beg you to accept my refusal and understand its cause.” When he nodded slightly, his cheeks burning with a bright blush, she stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss upon the cheek before turning to look up at Mylan. She had prayed that he would come for her, take her back to his home and make her his wife, but he had ignored her and clearly he had no wish to include her in his life. All day she had watched him laugh and flirt with Estrid, so obviously he had not missed her, and only his pride had prompted him to challenge Hagen for her hand.
She could not hide her tears, and they slid down her flushed cheeks, glimmering brightly in the soft light that still filled the large room. “When I wished with all my heart to be your bride, you refused to accept my love. It is too late now for us to find happiness together, so if that was a proposal you made just now I must refuse it. I ask only that you help me return to France, so that my presence here will no longer create such a painful embarrassment to you all.”
For a long moment Mylan could not find his voice, for he knew Celiese had loved him once and could not understand why she did not love him still. He had not thought her as empty-headed and fickle as Estrid, but perhaps all women were the same and he was better off without them. No matter what he thought of the fleeting nature of her affections, he knew she could not simply be shoved out the front door and left to wander Denmark with neither friend nor kin to take her in.
She had been miserable in his homeland, and he quickly agreed to her request, but his amber eyes glowed with hatred as he did. “If that is what you want, you shall have it. We will depart as soon as my ship can be made ready to sail.”
“You cannot make such a long voyage now,” Aldred protested heatedly. “Winter will arrive before you can return, and the trip will be needlessly dangerous. I forbid it, you may not take this woman anywhere but to the crossroads where she might find someone willing to take her wherever they are bound.”
Mylan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I know the perils of making a voyage in the autumn, but I have given my word and will not go back upon it unless you have changed your mind about sending Celiese away.”
Aldred was seething with rage, Mylan wished to force him to change his decision and he wo
uld not do so. He wanted Celiese out of his home before Raktor and his sons returned looking for her and one of his own sons might be killed protecting her. He could see the deaths multiplying; like ripples in a stream the killings would continue unless he put a stop to them now. Suddenly the obvious solution came to him, and he regretted he had not pursued it when Jens had first presented it.
When the Torgvalds left the next morning he would send Celiese with them, at dawn before any of his sons were up to stop him. The fact that she was no longer a slave would not trouble the Torgvalds in the least, and he knew they would kill her at Oluf’s funeral and let him deal with her in the next world as he had failed to do in this one. Sighing sadly as if he had no hope of solving so difficult a problem, Aldred lied convincingly. “Mylan, it is too late for us to argue this point further. I am going to bed and will speak with you again tomorrow, for I am certain we can come to a solution that will please us both.” He walked from the room, hoping to find Thulyn still awake, for he was positive she would welcome his idea with enthusiasm, for she had no love for Celiese either.
Chapter 17
Pacing the close confines of her cramped quarters, Celiese could not forget the rage that had filled Mylan’s golden gaze as she had declined his offer of marriage. Actually, she was not even certain he had proposed to her, he had spoken so quickly, responding angrily to Hagen’s proposal rather than making one of his own. All they had done that evening was fight, but at least he had not carried out his original plan to face Jens alone, and whether that was because of her advising him to do otherwise or mere happenstance did not matter, the result had been the same.
As the hour grew late, Celiese still could not rest. Her mind as well as her supple body churned with with torment, but she had had no choice in her actions that night. After she had been ordered to leave the Vandahl home, she could scarcely marry into the family. She had done no wrong, yet they constantly blamed her for the evil deeds of the Torgvalds. It was all so unfair! She could not stop her restless pacing, her rage growing more deep with each passing step. Why did her life continually run to tragedy, when to win Mylan’s heart was all she had ever wanted? Was the love of that proud man so unattainable a prize that she would never be his no matter how greatly she longed to call him husband? He had not understood why she had refused him, that had been plain in the darkness of his glance, but he had understood none of her dreams when they had been together either, and she had been a fool to hope he would be sympathetic now.
