The Warlord's Wife

by Sandra Lake

  “Do I look like a woman the jarl would be finished with? I bear his mark on both my wrists. My daughter holds the jarl’s sacred ring. Open the door and see for yourself.”

  The chains rattled, and before the door opened, Lida was ready with her dagger in hand. She crouched low and sliced her blade across the ankle of the first guard.

  The young man screamed in pain, and the second shouted and foolishly stepped over the first. Lida dove out the door and slammed it shut, barring it securely behind with the guards safely inside. She pressed her back up against the side of the hut and forced herself to breathe. Her heart was pounding, blinding her with fear, rage, and . . . were those sails?

  Was this a dream? Nay. The horizon was swelling more with ships’ sails as each minute passed.

  “He is here,” she gasped. Her heart leapt for joy, only to plummet back down to earth a moment later. Magnus would storm the chief’s fortress only minutes too late to save her daughter.

  Lida gripped her bloodied dagger tighter and unclipped her fur cloak, leaving it at the water’s edge. Glancing once more over her shoulder at the white sails, she lifted her heavy velvet skirts and ran as fast as her legs would take her across the expansive lawn, rushing back into the fortress.

  Lika appeared like a spirit of the fortress and charged ahead of her, clearly following Katia’s scent.

  “Find our girl, Lika,” Lida whispered. “Find Katia.”

  Her steps echoed loudly as they dashed through the empty hall and up the creaking wooden staircase to the second floor. They came to a halt outside the master chamber. Lida held her ear to the door. Muffled voices came from inside, and a scented, mystic smoke seeped out.

  Lida thought hard and focused in on the one thing Valto had always wanted from her. “I will submit, Valto!” Lida shouted. “I have always desired you. Think of how we used to talk while Urho was busy entertaining the hall. You must remember how I always desired you over your brother.” A loud commotion came from within, feet stomping directly to the door.

  “She is lying, Valto. Do not be stupid. She will say anything to get what she wants,” Janetta snarled.

  The door flung open. Lida scanned the room quickly and saw Katia sitting on a chair across the chamber, looking dazed by the hazy smoke.

  “Lida!” Sweat collected on Valto’s face, his forehead damp and pale gray. “I knew it when you looked at me at the Saarinen wedding feast. I knew I was not wrong.” He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her in.

  His eyes were glassy and hollow, and he was clearly intoxicated. There would be no reasoning with him, as he was well past the point of good judgment.

  “Go, my little pet.” Valto shooed Katia out without looking away from Lida. “Your mother wants some time alone with me. Selfish one, your mother.” He licked his lips.

  “Katia,” Lida said sharply, while keeping her eyes fixed on Valto. “Take Lika and go play on the green lawn. Do as you are told. Now!” Katia ran out the door. Lida took in a deep breath and felt her senses dulling, her breathing slowing. The heavy smoke was affecting her quickly.

  Janetta moved to follow Katia out of the chamber.

  “Why must you leave us, Mistress Janetta?” Lida said calmly, while doing her best not to vomit.

  “She has a blade at your gut, Valto,” Janetta said. “I am summoning the guards. Do not be stupid. She cannot be trusted.”

  “Why can you not trust me, Valto?” Lida said, caressing Valto’s shoulder while repositioning the blade so she could stab through his ribs if she needed to. “You have known me far longer than you have known her. You have wanted me for far longer than you have wanted her.”

  “Aye, I have.” Valto looked down at her chest and pressed himself against her, seemingly oblivious to the steel pressing into him. “I have wanted you since the first day I laid eyes on you. The way you moaned for my brother, you will moan for me.”

  Janetta was creeping around the edge of the room, and Lida turned to keep her in sight.

  Valto’s eyes drooped. “Mother said I could not keep you, even after I went through all that trouble for you. At first she said I could have you, but then you ruined it by getting that brat in your belly.”

  Lida knew her time was short—Valto was not a threat, but Janetta appeared about to strike. Her greatest concern, however, was that she did not know where Klara was.

  Keep him talking, her inner voice told her. Wait for Magnus. Stay alive.

  Valto swayed to the side, his ability to stand waning. “My father is dead—”

  “Aye, your father, and now your mother,” Lida said. “My sympathies. Did Janetta not tell you? She killed your mother in the hall—”

  Janetta charged, her hands grasping for Lida’s throat. “Lying, filthy whore!”

  Lida crashed into the wall and they tumbled to floor.

  “You killed her,” Janetta shrieked, pulling at Lida’s hair. “I saw her, Valto!”

  Lida raised the dagger, but Janetta had the momentum, and she rolled them to the side. The dagger clanged as it skidded across the floor, and Janetta began kicking into Lida’s ribs, over and over. The blows came from all directions, both fists and feet.

  All at once, she felt the floor vibrate thuderously, and the raining blows to her body stopped.

  Lida’s body was saturated with pain. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and told herself that the sound of her pounding heart drowned out the screams, curses, and shrieks that filled the chamber. She coiled into a protective ball and chanted to herself: Katia is safe. Magnus has come.

  Lida uncovered her face to see Magnus’s broadsword slashing through the air, connecting with Valto’s neck. His head was severed with the backswing of the mighty Norrland steel.

  “Die, you selfish whore!” Janetta roared.

  Lida lunged for her dagger, gripping it with both hands. She whipped back around, and Janetta ran straight into her blade. The woman’s eyes grew wide, her arms dropping as she looked down her chest. Time seemed to stand still. Janetta stared at the dagger and then looked into Lida’s eyes. The hatred faded from her eyes as confusion set in. She pulled in a wheezing breath. Lida watched in disbelief as the life drained out of her.

  Lida shut her eyes and prayed to God for understanding, forgiveness, and strength. The troubled woman had been so young, so misguided . . . and now Lida had ended her life.

  A large, calloused hand cupped her cheek. “Lida?”

  “Oh! Magnus.” Lida launched herself into her husband’s arms, burying her face into his neck.

  She trembled violently, weeping and struggling to breathe, her face pressing against his skin.

  Magnus swept his arm under her legs, picking her up and clutching her tight to his chest. The smell from the burning herbs was polluting his lungs and poisoning his wife. He stepped over the dead and dying.

  What had his wife suffered in his absence? He had sworn to protect her, and he had failed. Raw emotion overcame his ability to issue a command. Instead, he simply held her tighter and walked out of the foul chamber.

  As they emerged from the darkness of the Lyyski fortress to where Aleksi stood with the rest of the sailors and the horses, Lida held her hand up to shade her eyes.

  “Where are my sons?” Magnus asked.

  “They are safe with Hök,” Lida replied.

  “And Katia?” Magnus demanded.

  “You did not see her and Lika on the hillside?” Renewed panic sparked Lida’s strength, and she attempted to push out of his arms. “Let me go, Magnus! Klara—Klara is here. We must find her.”

  A horse ran across the east field, a white-cloaked rider on its back.

  Magnus hastily set Lida down. “Aleksi! My horse!” He ran and leapt onto the back of his horse, which had not yet been saddled. There was not time. Bareback, he charged his beast forward.

  Lika barked, running close
behind him, both of them rapidly gaining on the fleeing mare. Klara was not an experienced rider, and she held Katia in front of her, her arms and cloak flapping as she tried to spur the mare to go even faster.

  Magnus was gaining ground as they crested the hillside. As he pulled even with Klara, her mare snorted and flared her nostrils, instantly skittish next to the larger, more aggressive warhorse. Magnus yanked the reins out of Klara’s hand, pulling them tight and halting both mounts.

  “Pleasant day for a ride along the seaside, my jarl,” Klara said, panting. Her sarcastic manner had always struck him as humorous, but now he saw it for what it had always been: her way of cutting people down and taunting those who had authority over her.

  Magnus would deal with her after his daughter was safely in his arms. He reached for Katia, but stilled his hand upon seeing the polished silver held to the child’s throat. In the housekeeper’s hand was a dagger that had been gifted to his father by a Persian king, a blade Klara had told him his last steward had stolen.

  Katia eyes were ripe with fear, but her mouth was clenched in a hard line as she breathed slowly, controlling her reactions like a seasoned combatant.

  “What do you want, Klara?”

  “You just had to go and spoil my plan.”

  Keeping his voice and temper in rein, Magnus said, “I granted you mercy, and this treachery is how you repay me?”

  “Mercy?” She cackled, tossing her head back. “Exiled to a dirt farm to dwell in endless joy. After forty years of service, I’m supposed to go merrily on my way, like a happy grandmother sent off silently into the sunset?”

  “Klara, put the blade down and I will pay you whatever amount of gold you desire.”

  “Gold! You think I care about your stockpiles of worthless metal? You think anyone will remember you for your gold or precious steel?”

  Far down the embankment, Magnus saw a small fleet of longships anchored in the protective cove. They were Slavic and Rus pirates, known as blades for hire.

  “Any housekeeper can steal a little gold. I have more of your gold stowed away than you do. Power, on the other hand”—she turned one corner of her mouth up in a smile—“only a genuinely smart woman can climb her way from common serving maid to mistress of the keep, and finally to mistress of Norrland.”

  He trailed his eyes down to the ships that she gazed upon with confident pride.

  “Let the child go and I will grant you and your children mercy. Get on your ships and go.”

  “Pft, mercy. Who cares for your mercy?”

  “Why, Klara? I have always treated you fairly. I granted your daughter lenience, and this is how you repay me?”

  “Your bitch wife ruined you and made you soft,” she said. “Vulnerability is a liability, Magnus. Your father would be ashamed of you.”

  “Take your gold and your arrogance and go,” Magnus said. “Start a new life with your traitorous children. By my word, I will not stop you, nor come after you, but threaten my family further and I will run every one of them into the ground.”

  Klara tossed her head back and laughed. “Start a new life? I am too old to start again. I want the life I have worked for, sacrificed and bled for.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather live another day?”

  “Can you give me my youth back?” she said. “I slaved for your father, gave him everything, built Tronscar and its men into what they are today. I’ll have justice. Tronscar will crumble.”

  Grinding his teeth and struggling to stay under control, he said, “Let. My. Daughter. Go.”

  At that moment, Magnus saw Casper and a hundred men on foot charge over the hill, swords drawn.

  “You have done this to yourself, Magnus,” Klara said. “Had you stayed loyal to your Norrland bloodline, none of this would have had to happen.” She glanced over at the men coming to her aid. “War is a beautiful thing, it is not? A time of renewal. It keeps the value of our steel high in the minds of ambitious men.”

  Magnus could have swung his blade and cut her down in an instant, but he could not risk Katia being so close. The battle cries of the charging troops grew louder. His daughter was seconds from being at the center of a battlefield.

  “Dag, get your ship out of the cove before you are blocked in!” Klara shouted. She turned back to Magnus and shrugged. “Never been one for strategy, that one.”

  “My fleet has you outnumbered,” Magnus said. “Think, Klara. You have time to make your escape. Go now and my ships will not follow.”

  “You have always underestimated me, just like your father,” she answered. “Nay, Magnus, after my son strikes you down, he will charge over that hill and tell your men that the Slavic swine are to blame and that Tronscar’s precious princess has been taken. It will be all-out war in the gulf for weeks, and my sons will emerge the victors. Thank you for placing them so high up your chain of command. After they take out their senior command, there will be no choice but for them to assume leadership. Tronscar will be a bloody mess to clean up—but I’m used to cleaning, aren’t I?”

  Holding the blade at Katia’s throat with her right hand, she waved overhead with her left. “Dag, you stupid whelp. Get the ships moving out of the—”

  Quick as a whip, Katia winked, smiled at him, and bit Klara’s wrist. The witch dropped the blade to the ground, her fingers stretched out, flexing in pain. She howled, raising her arm up to strike Katia.

  Magnus had Klara by the hair before she could draw in her next breath.

  “Casper!” she screamed down the hillside.

  Magnus punched her in the mouth, launching her off the horse. He snatched Katia out of her arms as she fell, holding his daughter securely around the middle as she clamped her little, strong arms around his neck.

  “He-ah!” He kicked his destrier and charged up the hill, headed for the fortress at a full gallop.

  He tightened his grip around Katia’s waist as they began to climb the hillside. Aleksi and a dozen riders approached him at a rapid speed.

  “Aleksi, a fleet of Slav pirates is over that hill, anchored in a cove. Casper is among them. Have two hundred men circle round through the forest to ensure no man escapes on land. Aaron, take twenty ships and block the bastards in the cove. Kill whoever raises his blade to one of ours, but keep the rest alive. I shall get to the bottom of this.”

  “Aye, my jarl.” The men rode off to see after their duties.

  Magnus, for once, would not be going into battle. His men outnumbered their enemies three to one and outmatched them in training and weaponry. His wife and child were his priority. He wouldn’t leave their side until he had them secure behind the walls of Tronscar . . . the secure walls that had failed him?

  So be it. The only answer was to never leave their side again. ’Twas how he preferred it anyway. Riding at a slower pace, he drew in a deep breath. He could have lost his daughter, his wife. Now that the immediate danger was behind him, the blood-boiling fury set in. He kissed Katia’s sweet-smelling head and closed his eyes to calm himself.

  “You did very well, Jarl Magnus,” she said, still trembling slightly in his arms. “Will you teach me to ride a horse bareback as fast as you?”

  He clutched the child tighter.

  “I can’t breathe, Jarl Magnus.”

  “Sorry.” He lifted Katia up and spun her around to face forward. “Hold on to the reins. This will be your first lesson.”

  “Thunder likes me, Jarl Magnus. He’s letting me lead him.”

  “Lesson two. Pat the horse’s neck, whisper a compliment in his ear, and ask him to take us back to the ship. Your mother will be anxious to have you returned.”

  She twisted around and smiled at him. “Ask him? How will he know what I am saying?” Her beautiful green eyes had released all fear. She trusted him. He had earned her trust.

  He kissed her forehead. “Give it a try.”

 
; She whispered in the horse’s ear as he nudged the warhorse with his heels and tugged on the mane, his actions unnoticed by Katia. The horse began to trot, and Katia clapped with excitement.

  “It worked. He understood me!”

  “An excellent beginning.”

  Chapter 30

  As Magnus returned to the Lylasku fortress, his daughter chatted to him at a rapid pace, giving him a full account of her adventures, her hair flapping in his face.

  His wife ran to them across the grass.

  “Mama! Mama! Did he hurt you? Mama!” Katia called out.

  His wife raised her bruised face, her arms stretched out to retrieve their daughter. “Katia!”

  With Katia safe in his arms, Magnus lowered himself off the horse and pulled his wife into his embrace, locking the three of them together.

  His wife stroked their daughter’s face. “Did I save you in time? My love, did Valto or Janetta hurt you?”

  “Nay, Mama. They just shouted at each other. I tried to listen, but the smoke made me sleepy.” Katia scrunched up her nose.

  Magnus wanted—nay, needed—to return to the chamber and cut the dead man into more pieces.

  “Katia,” Magnus said, “is there any other person here that harmed you?”

  “Nay, Magnus.” His wife cupped his cheek and turned his face to hers. “I would never have let that happen. The chief died last night, his wife a few hours ago. This . . . you got here in time. You—” She crushed her face to his, kissing him with a thirst that the sea could not quench.

  “Mama, your pretty cloak got all dirty,” Katia said. “Look, someone bled all over it.”

  “Blood!” Magnus pulled away from his wife to examine her. “Are you injured?”

  “’Tis the guard’s blood.” She held the up the soiled garment. “Oh, my lovely cloak! How will I ever get this stain out?”

  Magnus tossed away the soiled cloak and kissed her again.

  Count Charles approach the small family as they embraced. “May I escort you to your father’s ship, Katia?” he asked. “I would be most interested in hearing all about your unfortunate adventure.”