by Lisa Hendrix
“Your steward sounds like an unpleasant man,” said Steinarr.
The fellow missed the note of mockery. “Aye, he is that. I’ll need four pence for it.”
“Four pence!” Marian shot to her feet. “For one day’s use? ”
“Aye, plus a shilling in surety, and the carter’s wage.”
Ari’s lips thinned at the man’s avarice. “Tell me, Reeve, would your steward loan a wagon and driver to two noble knights for a day? ”
The reeve sucked on his teeth a moment, considering, and finally nodded. “Aye, I could do that without his leave. But there’s still a night’s board and bed each to pay for. And that poppy juice the maid’s been pouring down him.”
“He had but one dose, and he has eaten nothing at all but a bit of poor bread this morning,” said Marian. “And I slept against the wall.”
“The boy has taken nothing of value from that filthy bed except a few lice,” added Ari. “A penny is more than enough for what you’ve given, including the wagon and driver. And then you will be done with them.”
“With all of us,” said Steinarr, stepping in next to Ari, ready to back him even if he didn’t want to bother with the boy himself. Besides, the reeve was an ass. He let one hand drift to his sword hilt. “It would be to your benefit.”
The fellow gave Steinarr a closer look and blanched a little. “Aye, I believe it would.”
Marian started to reach for her purse, but Steinarr found his first and flipped a coin to the reeve. The man caught it midair, gave it a quick look, and bobbed his head. He spun and started for the door, calling for men to start loading a wagon.
“Well, then, I’d better see that leg is well braced,” said Ari. He bent over Robin and pulled back the blanket to reveal his leg, showing swollen and discolored between the sticks and ties. “This is going to hurt, boy. You’d be happier if you waited three or four days.”
“I know, my lord,” said Robin. “But ’twill be better in the end.”
“I will fetch the litter,” said Steinarr, anxious to hurry this along so he could get Marian away from her bastard lover and start working on her himself. He headed outside and, with a little poking around, found the rough litter they’d made yesterday lying against the side of the stable. He had squatted to tighten a loose lashing when Marian came up behind him.
“I came to return your penny, my lord. Here. Take it.”
Ari and his stupid knots. He never had learned to tie a proper one. Steinarr gave the loose end an impatient yank. “We will settle later.”
There was a short silence, and then something hit him hard, square between the shoulders. He shot to his feet and whirled to find Marian blazing at him. “I may be whoring for your aide, my lord, but I am worth more than a penny.”
It took him a moment to think what he’d said. Ah. “’Twas not meant that way. I only—”
But by then she was already marching away, back as stiff as a frozen post. Shaking his head, Steinarr scooped up the silver penny and brushed off the stable muck. As she disappeared back into the hall, he tossed the coin once and dropped it into his purse.
By the gods, she truly did have some steel to her. Good. He liked a little steel in a woman—so long as she was soft when he wanted her to be soft.
He pulled out his knife and squatted once more to cut the knot on the bad lashing, smiling as he worked, certain Marian was going to be very soft, indeed.
CHAPTER 6
AS IT TURNED out, Robin possessed a bit of hidden steel himself. Despite refusing to take another dose of poppy syrup out of concern the reeve would demand more money, he handled the swaying and jostling of the wagon with barely a groan. And it wasn’t as if Headon’s carter tried to ease his journey either; the man couldn’t have found more bumps and holes, or taken them any harder, if he’d tried.
After one particularly jaw-rattling drop that took the last bit of color out of Robin’s cheeks, Marian pounced on the fellow. “Did your reeve order you to torture my cousin, or do you do it for the sport? ”
“Eh? What’s that? I drive how I drive. I need no woman telling me how.”
“Then I will tell you.” Steinarr fell back so he was abreast of the seat. “Find a smoother path for the boy’s sake, else I will break your leg and drive you back myself. At a full gallop.”
The man frowned and muttered something beneath his breath. Steinarr reined the stallion in close and leaned over. “What was that, Carter? I did not hear you.”
The driver glanced warily at Steinarr, then at Ari, who had taken a spot on the other side of the wagon and wore an equally stern frown. “Naught, monsire. I said only, ‘As you will, my lord.’ I will take more care.”
“See you do.” Steinarr gave him a curt nod and fell back so he could keep an eye on how the wagon rode. That it also gave him unfettered leave to watch Marian was merely a boon, as was the look of gratitude she wore as she mouthed a silent My thanks behind the man’s head.
A little while later, Ari also dropped back a little—to check on Robin, he said, but it didn’t escape Steinarr that he took time to coax a smile from Marian while he was at it. No, he got more than a smile—she actually blushed a bit at whatever he said. By the gods. Did all women think Ari’s sweet words were for them alone? Irritated, Steinarr put his spurs to the stallion and rode on ahead. He’d already spent too many years watching Ari beguile women from Kaupang to Kent; he had no interest in yet another demonstration of the moony sigh they all seemed to heave afterward.
The carter did indeed drive more carefully, though, and by midday, Robin had regained some of his color. Not long after that, they followed Hamo’s little train down a narrow path that ran between ancient oaks with trunks as thick as the cart was wide. The air immediately cooled, and Marian dragged another blanket over Robin.
A mile or so into the woods, the track suddenly emptied out into a broad grassy lea. Hamo directed the carts where to stop, and within moments, men were unloading gear. Hamo’s bed appeared and was set up beneath a broad oak, and men with axes in hand started cutting saplings and branches to make a lean-to near the fire, to shelter Robin in case the weather changed before a proper hut could be built. Children scampered around collecting wood for the fire and dry grass to stuff the mattress, while the women got the cook fire going and started a meal.
Though charcoal burners had more than once driven him from a good camp, Steinarr had to admire the work of this group; by the time four brawny men transferred Robin into the bed a little while later, they had roughed out a decent camp and Hamo had set two men to work with mattocks to clear ground for the first hut, with two more to come later.
“Would you care for some ale, my lords? We brought out two quarters from Retford. We will have better next week, of course, when Ivetta has had the chance to brew, but even poor ale is better than no ale, I always say. Agnes, bring these good knights each a jar,” he told one of the passing girls without waiting for an answer.
Brimming ale pots appeared, and Steinarr accepted the one pressed on him, took a deep draught of the sour, weak stuff, and made appropriate noises of thanks. Ari asked a question about charcoal burning, and it set Hamo off. Steinarr tried to follow the conversation, but quickly got lost in talk of flipes and motty pegs and other such nonsense, all of which Ari seemed to understand, and when Hamo bent to show him something about the clay, Steinarr slipped away.
The women had gone off to gather wattling for the lean-to, leaving Marian to watch over the cooking pot and the dozing Robin. Steinarr wandered over to join her. He held out his jar, still half full. “Have some ale?”
She hesitated briefly before accepting it and taking a sip. She grimaced. “’Twas better yesterday.”
“And will be yet worse tomorrow, no doubt. I think ’tis our good fortune that you and I will not be here to have to drink it.”
She glanced toward Robin, who snored peacefully on the cot. “Must we leave already?”
“I thought you were eager to be on your way.”
“I was. I am. But the journey took so much from him. I would like to see how he fares before I leave.”
“It is your journey. Take whatever time you wish. Besides, by the time Ari learns all there is to know about charcoal burning, ’twill be too late to make good progress today. We will start fresh in the morning.”
“Does your friend intend to ride with us, then? ”
A good question, and one he hadn’t really considered. Usually, the skald lingered a fortnight or more when he came through, spending the days riding, sharing stories, and hunting. It was Ari who had spent most of one summer early on teaching him to read and write the runes, so he and Torvald could leave messages to each other, and all of another teaching him French after the Normans came. With centuries stretching before them, there was seldom reason to hurry a visit. This time, however … “No. I am not certain of his plans, but he will not travel with us.”
“Ah.”
The disappointment in that one word made Steinarr’s jaw tighten. So, she wished Ari to go along, likely in the hopes his presence would shield her from fulfilling her bargain. Or perhaps because she wanted him instead. Steinarr reached abruptly for the ale jar, needing to wash the foul taste from his mouth. His fingers grazed Marian’s, and for just an instant, less than a heartbeat, he could once again see his want, his need, his anger reflected in her eyes.
Marian gasped and jerked away as if burned. The ale jar dropped to the grass as she skittered backward, out of reach.
“Your pardon, my lord.”
It took Steinarr a moment to realize it was the carter who had spoken, not Marian. With a growl, Steinarr rounded on the man. “What do you want? ”
The fellow jumped, startled at his vehemence, but recovered quickly. “Naught, my lord. Just to say that I must start back soon, to be home before dark. The other knight said you would ride back with me, at least part of the way.”
The idea of riding off now made Steinarr’s chest tighten. He scooped up the ale jar, which had miraculously landed unbroken and upright in the meadow grass and was still half-full. He shoved it at the man. “Have some ale. We will be a little longer.”
The man’s eyebrows went up, but he took the jar. “Yes, my lord. I’m not one to turn down ale.”
The carter meandered off, and Steinarr turned his attention back to Marian. She had retreated to the cook fire and was head down over the pot, stirring with great determination. The lines of her back fair shouted Leave me be, and beyond her, the sentiment was echoed in Robin’s glower—apparently he hadn’t been sleeping so soundly after all. It was the first time Steinarr had seen the boy looking anything less than friendly.
By the gods, ’twas only a touch. And barely that. With a grunt, Steinarr turned and stalked off to rejoin Ari and Hamo, who had moved from charcoal burning to a discussion of how to pick the best trees to burn. Steinarr tried to make some sense of their conversation, but his attention stayed with Marian, watching every sweep of the ladle, every swipe of her hand across her brow … and every reassuring smile she gave Robin.
Finally, there was nothing more to say about trees either, and Hamo went off to check on the progress on the lean-to. Ari drained the last of his ale and carried the empty jar over to Marian. Steinarr could hear him talking, but couldn’t make out the words. All he knew was that the creases in Robin’s face eased, and that Marian once more smiled at Ari.
She hadn’t smiled at him since Maltby.
“’Tis time we leave,” he announced abruptly, out of patience. “Come, Ari. Our carter friend needs to be home before dark.”
He threw himself on the stallion, leaving Ari to make their farewells. Marian stayed by the fire, studying the pot like she expected it to bring forth gold and rubies. She barely glanced up when Ari bade her good-bye and then quickly looked down before Steinarr could catch her eye.
It was just as well. If their eyes met again, he wouldn’t leave, never mind that her lover lay right there, glaring at him. He was a hair’s breadth from carrying her off into the forest right now, burying himself in her whether she wanted him or not. It was as if she’d enchanted him. Enthralled him.
Frowning, Ari untied his horse. “What the devil is wrong with you?”
“Nothing. It grows late and we need to be away.”
Ari shook his head, clearly not believing the lie, and mounted up. As they turned to follow the wagon off down the path, Steinarr risked one last glance at Marian.
A maid stirring a pot. That’s all she was.
He shook his head at his own foolishness. There was no enchantment. It had been just a touch, just a look, made more potent by the knowledge he would have her soon. Tomorrow. He could have her tomorrow. The sudden ferocity of his lust made his thighs ache.
She must have sensed him watching her, for the ladle slowed to a stop and her cheeks went as red as the coals at her feet. He guided the stallion over so he could look down on her, as he would tomorrow when he spilled her onto her back in the grass in some meadow.
“On the morrow, Marian,” he said evenly. “Early. Be ready.”
She drew a deep breath and slowly raised her head, though she didn’t meet his eyes. “Yes, my lord. I will be.”
HE WAS IN a stew, that was for certs.
Not that Ari hadn’t caught glimpses of Steinarr’s wroth before, but usually it took more than a word or two from some woman to raise the lion’s hackles. Interesting that this woman could, and so easily.
Of course, there wasn’t much he could say while the carter was still around, and by the time they got close enough to Headon to send the fellow rattling off on his own, Steinarr seemed to have himself back in hand. Still, as they turned around to head back toward a night camp a little closer to the colliers, Ari spied a lingering clench of jaw and had to ask.
“So … what did you do? ”
“Do? ”
“To Marian. What did you say to her?”
“Nothing.”
“It must have been rude,” Ari mused aloud. “She was too embarrassed to look at you. You even made Robin angry.”
“I told her that if she didn’t pour me more ale, I’d make her listen to all of your stories, one after the other.” He glared at Ari. “The prospect fair made her puke.”
“Fine. Don’t tell me, then.” But Ari couldn’t leave it there. “Just tell me how the devil you managed to convince her to go off with you.”
“I didn’t. She asked me.”
“Why? You’re all but a stranger to her. And she’s noble.”
“And a noblewoman would never associate with someone like me, is that it?”
“No. Pillocks, you take everything badly. I only meant—”
Steinarr cut him off with a slash of the hand. “I don’t need your apologies.”
“I wasn’t apologizing. You’re the one being a horse’s ass.”
Steinarr’s mouth opened, then snapped shut. He took a deep breath and blew it out, and when he spoke, some of the anger was gone. “Granted. I just … Bah, never mind. You’re right, she wouldn’t have asked me, but that she is so desperate to find her father’s treasure for him—although she has not yet told me that, of course. I’m still supposed to think she merely wants to complete their pilgrimage for the sake of Robin’s sister.” His lip curled. “I doubt he even has a sister.”
Ari shook his head. “I’m glad I’m not the one who must keep track of this tangle of lies. Between what I know and what I am supposed to know, I barely know what to call her or what to say before her.”
“You?” Steinarr jerked as a fly lit on his neck. He smacked at the pest, but missed. “You tell stories that last a sennight and never miss a word.”
“I miss scores of words. I just make sure everyone’s half gone on ale before I start, so they do not care. She’s sober and she’s quick. If you misspeak …”
“I won’t,” said Steinarr firmly. “Besides, I intend to coax the truth out of her before too many days pass. She will be more forthcoming without h
im around, and then once I ‘know,’ I will persuade her to return to Huntingdon. The boy’s broken leg serves my purposes well.”
“A little too well. If I didn’t know better, I might think you arranged for him to fall.” Ari’s eyes narrowed. “Come to think of it, you were awfully close by.”
“If I’d had a hand in it, he would have broken more than a leg.”
“And yet you threatened the carter to make his journey easier. Of course, I suspect that was more for Marian’s benefit than his.”
“Aye. But there was no reason to torture him. If I do kill him—and I’m not saying I will,” he added as Ari started to protest. “But if I must, I will do it quickly.”
“It shouldn’t come to that. With Marian back home and well wed, the boy will have no reason to badger her again.”
“He may not see it that way.”
“Then convince him.”
“I have a better idea. You convince him.” Steinarr looked at Ari. “I mean it. Stay here, keep an eye on him while he heals and make sure he doesn’t come after us, and get him to tell you the truth. Then convince him that Marian belongs with her cousin and her husband for her own good. When I get back, we can pack him off to someplace where he can make a new life for himself, and then we’ll go off and hunt a bit.”
“I don’t know,” said Ari. “I’ve already been gone a long while. Brand is waiting, and—”
“Ah. Too bad.” Steinarr smiled grimly. “Well, I hope I can convince him, then. Otherwise—”
“Oh, all right. I’ll stay.” They rode along a little ways before Ari asked, “What about her? Do you plan to convince her of anything? ”
Steinarr’s smiled changed, softened. “I haven’t had to so far.”
Very interesting. “Then why was she so upset with you?”
“Why does any woman get upset at a man? They like to pretend they don’t know what we want, yet throw a fit when we make it clear.”
“You were rude, weren’t you?” Ari turned his black across the road, so the stallion had to pull up short. “Be careful with her, Steinarr. Do not destroy her affections before you even have them.”
