“Troel.” Roald looked beyond his brother. “Take Eva to Silvia.”
“Aye.” Troel bowed and gestured for Silvia to follow him.
But she didn’t want to go anywhere without Roald. “You promised to protect me.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “These are tumultuous times, Eva. I have business to attend to before I can join you. Remember the oath I took—that is proof enough that I shall honor our agreement. Troel is my right hand. He will stay with you.”
She lowered her chin and gazed at the captain. “I will try, Jarl Roald.”
With a little sigh, she followed Troel. The great hall was no less majestic than the outside of the longhouse. Eva imagined she could fit fifty of her cottages inside the rectangular space. Rafters crisscrossed in the high ceiling and carved in the center of the wood was another image of Odin with a raven perched on his shoulder. People moved aside as the captain led her through the crowd. She felt naked as she walked by, their open disapproval and shock a heavy burden to carry.
“Lapp.”
Muttered insults did not escape Eva’s attention, but she did as Roald had asked, trusting Troel to protect her.
“Skridfinn.”
“Filthy Sami whore.”
These words could not be overlooked. She stopped abruptly and eyed the man she knew uttered the curse. “Do not judge me,” she said.
His dark eyes narrowed as he stepped forward. “Tis like a Sami to lay the blame on others. I will judge you based on the actions of your people.” He spat on the ground at her feet. “And from where I stand, I see a whore.” He grabbed a fistful of her tunic, tugging her close. “Would my pikk rot off if I speared you?”
With a roar, Troel appeared at her side and freed her from the man’s grasp.
Eva stepped back, shaking uncontrollably, but determined not to cower.
Troel’s face reddened as he lifted the man off the ground by the throat. “Another word from your putrid lips and I’ll hack your head off your shoulders.” He looked to the left and right, making sure the bystanders understood. “This woman is a personal guest of our jarl—under his protection. Insult her, touch her, even look at her the wrong way, and you’ll answer to me, then our master.”
He let go and the man fell to the floor with a deafening thud.
“Have I made myself clear?”
“Aye,” the throng answered in unison.
Then Troel gripped Eva’s elbow. “If it wasn’t for Jarl Roald, they’d live as wildings, naked and starving.”
“T-thank you,” she whispered as the captain steered her away from the crowd.
“Consider me a friend.”
They walked down a long corridor, then stopped in front of a closed door.
“I will work quickly,” Eva said. “The sooner Silvia is better, the quicker I can leave this place.”
Troel opened the door for her, then gave her a gentle push inside. “I will stand guard out here. If you need anything, lady, just call my name.”
Chapter Eight
“Never question me in public again,” Roald reminded his brother. Seated at the table in his chamber, he watched Konal pace endlessly. “I will overlook this last insult because I know you are greatly troubled by your wife’s condition.”
“Troubled?” Konal spun around, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. “I am going mad.”
Roald sucked in a deep breath. “Go kill something.”
“Someone?”
Did his brother see him as the perfect target for his rage? “We always need fresh meat for the feast table. I have a taste for boar tonight.”
“And I have a taste for blood.”
“Your suspicion is misplaced,” Roald said, standing up. “If I wanted Silvia dead, her lifeless body would be chained in the public square, serving as a reminder for why I do not approve of marrying outside our people.”
“Does this mean you accept her now?”
“Acceptance is too generous at this point in time.”
Konal scowled. “I will take her back to Northumbria as soon as she can travel. If the Sami witch doesn’t kill her first.” He looked away.
Roald walked behind Konal and placed his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “We will honor our sire this night. As soon as the moon rises, his body will be transferred to his ship. I prefer having you by my side, Konal. Haakon and Runa wish us to make peace. Father wanted you to be happy.”
“Considering I was nothing but a disappointment to him all these years?” He turned around, his expression more relaxed.
“We could spend a lifetime discussing our sire’s shortcomings,” Roald said. “I, too, felt the constant sting of his disapproval. You had the advantage, Brother, a great distance between you and our father. I lived every day is his shadow, waiting for his confirmation. But even on his deathbed it never came.”
“But you can stand here and tell me he loved me?” Doubt shadowed Konal’s face.
“His last words.”
“And what of Haakon and Runa? Did they make peace with him?”
“He overlooked them. Ignored everything they did. What use does an old chieftain have for a girl? As for Haakon, the boy’s talents and ambitions are unclear.”
“And you believe our mother loved our sire?”
“Aye,” Roald confessed. “She used to visit my room late at night when I was a boy, especially when she was pregnant with Runa. She’d tell me stories about how Father wooed her. I listened intently, because it made her smile.”
“I miss her,” Konal said.
“Our people miss her greatly, too. I propose a truce, Konal. Not only for our younger sister and brother, but for the sake of our mother’s memory. A finer woman never graced Odin’s green earth. For her, I’d do anything.”
Konal rubbed his chin. “We’ve never known peace, Brother. Why start now? Why change our ways because our sire died and you are jarl? Fate placed that reality at my feet the moment I was born the second son. One year and three days separate us in age. Maybe this is why we battle endlessly. I wish to rule my own lands. And Prince Ivarr has sanctioned that right.”
“But I haven’t.” The idea of his brother establishing his own steading didn’t sit well with Roald. Sibling rivalry aside, what if years from now, Konal became his true rival—a blood enemy? “I am unsure how I feel about it.”
“There are no laws binding me here. I am freeborn. The son of a jarl. Blessed with wealth and power now. My conquests in Northumbria are part of Prince Ivarr’s official record. You cannot rewrite history, Brother.”
“No,” Roald said. “But I can deny it.”
Konal tapped his fingers on the table. “Is that a threat?”
“Think carefully before you act. United, there’s not a family in the Trondelag that can withstand us—not even Jarl Sigurdsson can overlook our legacy.”
“Your legacy, Roald.”
“Ours.”
Konal shook his head. “As I promised before, I will fill your coffers with the silver and gold you’re due as my jarl. But after I’ve honored that arrangement, I must seek my own destiny—with Silvia at my side. Our children will be reared to see things differently. I will not pollute their minds with generations of bloodfeud. I will teach them to judge men and women by their deeds, not their blood.”
“Ha!” Roald eyeballed his brother. “The way you accepted Eva?”
“She is different.”
“Only as different as you make her.”
“Father hated the Skridfinns.”
“As I hate the Saxons,” Roald pointed out.
“Tis one thing to conquer a people in their own country, and another to coexist with enemies in your homeland.”
“The Sami occupy the mountainous regions no Viking wishes to claim. What harm can come to us from people who herd reindeer?”
Every Norseman knew Eva’s people had lived in these lands longer than their own families. But no Viking would ever admit it. The Sami gods preceded Odin. But Roald suspecte
d Allfather, the god of many faces, might be the same creator the Lapps worshipped. None of it mattered now. He’d befriended the beautiful girl, and if she healed Silvia, he would be indebted to her forever.
“Whether you choose to accept my terms for a truce or not, I expect you to conduct yourself a certain way this evening. There will be no open hostility. Our people will see two brothers mourning their sire. Then you sit beside me at the feast table and salute me as jarl. For tonight, our father’s captains will crown me. Do not defy me, Konal.”
Konal silently poured himself a cup of mead from a carafe on the table. He swallowed it down greedily, then helped himself to a second measure. “I agree to stand with you tonight. And I never intended to challenge you for our father’s seat. Though my blade craves a clash with you, I will not be the one to start a fight.”
Roald sucked down a drink, too, not entirely satisfied with his brother’s words. In fact, he had more faith in Eva, a mere stranger, than he did in his own kinsman. “Shall we go to Silvia now?”
Konal nodded. “Where did you find the healer?”
“Camped in the foothills.”
“By herself?”
“She was searching for herbs that do not grow where she lives.”
“To make her poisons with.”
“Stop,” Roald commanded, losing patience. He recalled Eva’s probing question before Konal had interrupted them. Why act on your enemy’s behalf? She had also stated that his motivation would help determine how she proceeded with Silvia. What had she meant? “She is the only thing standing between your wife and death.”
Konal’s cheeks flushed. “If Silvia dies…”
“Then I will deal with the girl.”
“By everything sacred, I pray I can trust you with my wife’s life.”
Konal walked with his brother through the great hall, headed for Silvia’s chamber. “You don’t have a choice.”
Chapter Nine
Eva spent the better part of an hour examining Silvia. Fevered and in a deep sleep, there were no clear signs of what had made the woman sick. Her pale skin was free of blemishes, her stomach and joints weren’t swollen, and her gums were a healthy color.
She dipped a cloth in a bucket of cool water and gently wiped her face and neck, hoping to provide some comfort for her patient. The goal of any noaidi was to send the spirits of illness home and restore harmony. Sometimes the reason for a malady didn’t manifest as physical symptoms. The spirits might be angry at Silvia or her family.
The door opened and Troel stepped inside with Eva’s bags. “You’ll need these.”
“Aye,” she said, giving him a grateful smile.
“I am just outside,” he reminded her and closed the door.
Pleased her belongings had arrived, she folded the cloth in half and placed it on Silvia’s forehead before she went to retrieve the tools she used in her healing rituals. She pulled her bowl drum from the largest of her bags. Made from the burl of a tree, Eva had spent countless days shaping her instrument. Once it was finished, she decorated it with symbols representing the three realms—where the gods, mankind, and saivo lived. Between the worlds, herds of sacred reindeer ran free.
Since she knew nothing about Silvia’s family, Eva would ask her own ancestors living in saivo—the paradise underworld—to aid the beautiful Saxon. Something Eva had never done before.
If her ancestors refused, then she would try to convince the Sami gods to help. In order for them to intercede on behalf of a nonbeliever, there might be a price to pay. What exactly, she didn’t know yet.
With her drum and reindeer bone drumstick in hand, she knelt beside the bed and closed her eyes. Though Eva didn’t dream like other noaidis, she could communicate with the spirits still, feel the movement of nature down to her marrow, and possessed the ability to identify the evil spirits that plagued her patients.
A low but strong tone sounded as she struck the surface of her drum with the carved bone. The important thing was keeping a steady beat until a kind of ecstasy was reached. In that moment, where the three worlds collided—Eva would enter the land of the spirits. She rocked back and forth in unison with her music.
Then the words followed, her special joik, a song meant to express her need and feelings to the gods and spirits.
Gift of light
Kept us from straying
Showed us the pathway to the scared lands.
Gift of light
Overpower darkness
Set us free from the prevailing night.
Tears no longer fall
Eyes wide open
Gift of light
Life is precious.
Restore faith
Gift of light
Restore health
Gift of light.
Mother, father
Hear my plea
Sons of the Sun
Daughters of the Moon
Our ancestors are scattered among the countless stars.
Gift of light
Read my heart
Restore life to my sister.
*
Roald crossed the threshold of Silvia’s chamber, then paused. He found Eva on her knees by the bed, her melodic voice wrapped around him, drawing him into another world. And the words she sang—set us free from the prevailing night…
“Is this what a Sami soothsayer offers as healing?” Konal shoved his brother aside. “She’s not a spaewife. Get her away from Silvia.”
Roald gripped his arm. “Stand down, Konal. The ways of the noaidi are different than our healers. And if you touch, Eva, I’ll be forced to take action to protect her.”
“This is your way of torturing me.” His lips stretched into a snarl. “You wish my wife gone. You want her to die.”
Roald focused intently on his brother. He had never seen his sibling act so irrational. There was only one solution, remove him from the room until Eva finished her chant.
“Get out,” he said.
“Leave you alone with…”
“Out.” Roald elbowed him in the direction of the open door. “Troel.”
The captain stood at attention.
“Don’t let anyone in or out of this room until I give my consent. Even if Ragnarok comes.” Sure he’d made his point clear, he shut the door.
Eva had stopped singing then, but she continued to play the drum softly. “Jarl Roald,” she whispered.
He moved to stand by her.
“I am between worlds,” she said. “Tell me why you wish to save this woman.”
“She’s beautiful…” he said.
“And?”
“She belongs to my brother.”
“And?”
“Honor.”
“You mean obligation?” Eva asked.
Even in a trance-like state the woman argued. “Yes. Obligation. My mother would expect no less from me.”
“And your sire? He is here with me, Roald.”
An unseen force sucked the air from Roald’s lungs. He felt suddenly dizzy. “My father is with you?” He didn’t believe her. Jarl Brandr should be in Valhalla, drinking strong mead and making love to a Valkyrie.
“He wants you to forgive your brother. To understand that everything he says and does right now is driven by the fear of losing the one person he truly loves. Silvia.”
The girl must prove her power to him. Anyone could claim to see the ghost of his father. Though he’d never told Eva his sire had died. “My father has a second name.”
“Brandr the Restless.”
“His hair color?”
“Red.”
“Eyes?” She’d surely fail now.
“As blue as yours, Jarl Roald.”
He licked his lips with cautious hope. Did the girl truly see his father? Could she speak to him? “Tell him I will honor him this very night.”
“He already knows. And once you do, his spirit will enter Valhalla.”
Eva began to sing again; the same words he’d overheard before. The intrigue he’d f
elt for Eva turned into something more potent in that moment. A kind of pain in his gut he’d never felt. Not only did he yearn to touch and kiss her, now he wanted to know all her secrets, to see the world through her eyes.
The Norse believed in magic and held a deep respect for the dead. But spirits were something most regarded as bad omens, unfortunate souls caught between the nine realms, never to find rest.
He waited patiently for Eva to finish. And when she finally opened her eyes, looking in his direction, he didn’t know what to say.
“Jarl Roald,” she said, standing. “I am happy you arrived when you did. Your spirit has been found pure in the eyes of my ancestors. It is because of you that Silvia will receive the blessings of my gods.”
He gazed at his unconscious sister-in-law. “This is your idea of healing?”
“Did you expect her to awaken immediately?”
“The gods have the power to make such things happen.”
“Aye,” she agreed. “But such marvels are rare. Go and feel her forehead, the fever should have broken.”
Roald did as she suggested. Though Silvia remained pale and still, she wasn’t hot to the touch. “What kind of magic is this?” he asked. “Strange music and song. Your gods don’t demand sacrifices in return for granting your wishes?”
“There are times when my people offer blood in exchange for the favor of our gods. But we are connected, Jarl Roald, all a part of the great universe.” She studied his face. “Somehow, I fear you still do not understand what I mean.”
“I do,” he said. “It amazes me that you truly believe it.”
“I am Sami.” She lowered her head in reverence.
To what, Roald didn’t exactly know.
“I require food and rest. And once the moon rises, after you honor your sire, your family must gather in this chamber for my final ritual. We will need all their energy and love to wake Silvia.”
He watched as she gathered her belongings.
“I want to kiss you, Eva.” A deep longing had been building up since he first met her. And now that he had her alone in a bedchamber, he’d be damned if he’d miss the opportunity to taste her—just this once.
Desire's Fury (Viking's Fury Book 2) Page 4
