by Jianne Carlo
Feisal grinned. “Aye, milord.” Then he scurried away.
Torsten did not follow immediately. Instead, he bowed his head, thanked Jesus, and vowed to build the church before winter set in. Then, he pushed out of the chair and, surprised to find his knees wobbling, held onto the back for a moment for support. Disgusted by his weakness he stomped to their chamber.
Eileen saw him first. She put a finger to her lips and then pointed to the bed.
By Freya, had he ever seen a more beautiful vista? Nay. She slept without any sign of restlessness and he had seen enough wounded and dying to know ’twas a good sign. Drawn to her like a lodestone to iron, he stole quietly to her side, sat on the mattress, and dusted a few damp locks from her face. Her skin felt neither clammy nor overwarm, and he heaved a relieved sigh.
Wilma tugged his sleeve. “Jarl, I would speak with you if you please.”
Reluctant to move, but hearing the urgency in Wilma’s tone, Torsten forced himself to move off the bed, out of their bedroom, and into the main chamber. He spun around. “My thanks for your care of my wife, Wilma the Wise.”
“Lady Ainslin is more than worthy and capable of being the lady of Stjórardalr. I am happy to serve her. Jarl, I would ask you to tell me what your lady ate this eve and when you noticed her illness.” Wilma’s calm voice and tranquil demeanor did not deceive Torsten. The healer, who some called soothsayer and witch, suspected something.
He related the dishes and, as accurately as he could recall, the timing of each course.
“The shrimp, methinks. She had an overabundance in a short time and her reactions came on too fast and too violently for any of the other courses. Lady Ainslin insisted that the head table dishes be prepared and served separately. She, personally, oversaw the cooking and chose the serving wenches. Thora told me no others were sick. I believe your lady’s illness was deliberate, Jarl.” Wilma met his gaze head on and her surety he did not doubt.
“Then, it must have been one who knew her preference for the shrimp,” Torsten mused. It could not have been Sigrid, for Ainslin had never tasted the tiny shrimp until she came to Stjórardalr.
Chill bumps chased his nape.
One of his people had tried to kill Ainslin.
Helga.
It could be no other.
Chapter Fourteen
Ainslin woke to a bitter and dry mouth and a throbbing head. She opened one eye to discover Torsten staring at her, but he wasn’t on the bed next to her. Nay, he sat on a stool next to their bed.
She tried to lever onto her elbows, but a wave of giddiness had her settling back onto the mattress.
“Nay, elska.” He sat on the edge of the bed and tucked a curl behind her ear. “Wilma says you are to rest this day.”
“But, the feast,” she croaked. So much to do.
“Wilma, Greta, and Thora are seeing to all. Do you recall what happened last eve?” He captured her hand and pressed a kiss to the center of her palm.
“I remember feeling dizzy and nauseous.” Another memory surfaced. She grimaced. “I emptied my belly.”
“Aye. Wilma thinks ’twas the result of bad shrimp.” He averted his gaze for a moment. “She believes ’twas deliberate. I am inclined to agree with her. And only one person, aside from Wilma, knew of your preference for our shrimp and had the knowledge and opportunity to taint the dish. Helga. I will see to her banishment and declare her outlawed.”
Helga? True, she was vicious and vindictive, but she had not the intellect for such deviousness. “Nay, husband. Helga was too sick to get out of bed last eve. She wouldn’t have had the energy to sneak into the kitchens and taint the shrimp. Besides, I was in the kitchens from the time she took sick until the feast. ’Twas bad shrimp, ’tis all. And before you suggest it, Sigrid had no access to the kitchens.”
He shook his head. “You astound me more and more. Aye, my first thought was Sigrid, but I realized that he did not have the time or the access. I questioned everyone who prepared the meal last eve and my men who guarded the kitchens. The only people who knew enough to taint the food are Helga and Wilma, and we both know Wilma would not have injured you in any way.”
She agreed with his reasoning.
Could the tainting of the shrimp been deliberate?
In truth, Helga did have cause to hate her. ’Twas why she had tried to soften the blow of humiliation by including Helga’s daughter, Camilla, as one of those chosen to serve the head table.
Camilla.
Ainslin knew right at that moment.
Camilla had sought to avenge her mother’s loss of status in the holding. And she could not fault the girl for the deed. No punishment should be meted out for this offense, but how to convince Torsten of this?
“I agree with Wilma and will rest this morn, husband, but you must allow me to decide when I am well enough to return to my duties.” She saw him readying to deny her and rushed on, “Nay, Torsten. Do not deny me this. I am not a child to be confined and protected. I am a woman full grown, a wife who loves her husband, and a mother of two sons. Do not treat me as a babe.”
The harsh lines bracketing his mouth softened when he smiled. “A wife who loves her husband. Have I told you how much those words you uttered last eve mean to me? From the moment I saw you at Canute’s court, Ainslin, you stole my heart.”
She could barely draw a breath. She had been content to love without being loved in return. Tears pricked her eyes and she could not blink them back. “Oh Torsten. I have no words. Please hold me.”
He shifted on the mattress to lie next to her and lifted the furs so he could draw her into his arms. Snuggled next to him, her cheek resting on his chest, she slipped her arm around him. “I love you.”
“I have never felt fright the way I did last night, Ainslin. To have finally made you mine and then to lose you…I do not know how to live without you.” His voice had gone all coarse and raspy and she knew that ’twas against his grain to talk about his feelings.
She kissed the hollow of his thick neck. “I love you. And I am here with you and will be for as long as you will have me.”
“Forever, elska. For as long as I draw breath.” He pressed his lips to her brow, to the tip of her nose, and to her lips.
“Torsten?” She pushed up onto her elbow to look right at him.
“Ainslin? Ask and I shall grant” His gray eyes had gone all sooty and glittered with emotion.
“If, and only if, the shrimp was tainted deliberately, then I beg your leave to deal with whosoever did the deed.” She saw his jaw work into that stubborn line and realized he was about to refuse her. “Please, Torsten. Let me be the one to handle this.”
He sat up and hauled her onto his lap, nudged her chin. “Do not make the mistake of thinking that I have not recognized you are using your wiles on me. Telling me that you love me, or licking my spigot—”
“Which, I must remind you, I have yet to do. And not for want of trying,” she protested.
Chuckling, he bumped his forehead to hers. “Ah elska. ’Tis no wonder you stole my heart. Aye. I give you leave to deal with the culprit. Now, tell me who did this and how and why?”
“Helga’s daughter, Camilla. To avenge her mother. She has seen but twelve summers. She knew well how I love your tiny shrimp. The how, I will find out when I speak with her this day.” She looped her hands around his head. “May I ask another boon?”
“You may ask all that you desire?” He threaded his fingers in her curls.
“This eve, after the feast, may I lick your spigot and drink your seed?” She felt her sex clench at her bold words.
A slew of Norse words burst from his mouth. He tucked her head under his neck and pressed her cheek to his chest. “Ah, elska. You try to unman me. Your words have me ready to spew in my breeches. Not since I first became a man has this happened. Nay. Do not lay your hand on my cock. I will hold you until my pecker subsides enough for me to walk. Then, I will leave you under the care of Feisal and Eileen and send for your nur
se, Martha.”
’Twas noon before Ainslin felt well enough to send for Camilla. At first the girl was defiant, but when Ainslin accused her of poisoning the shrimp, she broke apart. Sobbing and hiccupping, Camilla confessed to mixing feces into the raw shrimp.
Ainslin near emptied her belly again, but managed to control her reaction. She sent the girl back to Helga after making her promise to tell her mother what she had done. Ainslin had no doubt that Helga would deal with Camilla more harshly than she ever could.
Accompanied by Eileen, she went to the kitchens right after her interview with Camilla only to find that Greta and Thora had everything under control. Of a mind to infuse the rushes in the hall with a fresh aroma, she sent a page to gather some pine branches from the woods.
When she entered the cavernous hall, now devoid of trestle tables and benches, Ainslin panicked. For there not two feet in front of her, stood Sigrid. As always, he was dressed for court, his brown hair brushed his wide shoulders, and his honey colored eyes bored into hers.
“Ainslin. How fortunate that we meet.” He strode forward.
She backed away and came up against the wall. She could not breathe, could not think.
“Think you I know not that Hadrain claimed my sons? The moment I saw those brats I recognized they were mine. Mine of your coarse maid.” His breath, fetid and sour, crawled over her face.
Her blood thickened and cooled. Terror scattered her thoughts.
“’Twas fortunate that I encountered the brats on my journey to Canute’s coronation. And even more fortunate that you have claimed them yours. For now, I can claim them as mine of you. Your marriage will be annulled and you will be mine and there is naught you can do to prevent it.” His evil smirk scared her mindless.
“Earl Sigrid!”
Ainslin nigh collapsed in relief when she heard Torsten’s shout. Not a few minutes later, Torsten’s arms encased her, and Sigrid vanished from her sight.
“Ainslin. What is amiss? You are trembling from head to toe and you look ready to swoon. You should have rested all the day. I was a fool to agree to your demands.” Uttering curses she understood too well, he swept her off her feet.
“He knows. Sigrid knows,” she whispered, afraid to say the words out loud. “He intends to petition to have our marriage annulled.”
“What?” Torsten drew back to stare at her.
Her mind jumbled, her vision blurred by tears, she buried her face in Torsten’s tunic, and hysteria set in. Vaguely aware of him carrying her, of the gallop to the lodge, she only became coherent when Brom and Rob crawled onto her lap. She held her sons tight to her and sobbed.
Eventually her tears stopped and she wiped her wet face with her hands. Warmth bled into her and she realized Torsten held her on his lap. They were encased in his immense chair in the main chamber in the lodge.
He hooked her chin and looked right into her eyes. “Better?”
“Nay. I cannot bear the thought of leaving you. Or of him claiming me.” Ainslin found to her dismay that she could not utter Sigrid’s name. When had she become a sniveling coward?
“’Twill not happen, Ainslin. Look to me,” he commanded. “Eileen has suggested a way to halt any claims to the boys Sigrid thinks he has.”
Hope bloomed like a soaring eagle in her chest. “But, how? The boys are his.”
“Hadrain had a birthmark on his neck.”
She frowned. All knew of the mark because it resembled a cross with a bulge at the top. King Canute had called her former husband, Hadrain the Blessed. “Aye.”
“We will give the boys this birthmark. Take them to the hall this eve and show the birthmark to Sigrid.” He grinned down at her, but she was not reassured.
“He will simply have the mark washed off. ’Twill not work, Torsten.” Sorrow engulfed her.
“Nay. Listen to me. You know of the blue ink we use to carve designs into our skin?” He appeared so cert of this strange plan.
Puzzled and confused, she replied, “Aye. But ’tis blue and not brown like Hadrain’s birthmark was.”
“In the East, they use a paste that does not break the skin, but dyes it. ’Tis called henna and it stains the skin brown.” His grin widened and his gray eyes sparkled with triumph. “It wears off, but takes some moons to do so.”
She went limp with relief. Then sat up and squeezed him to her. “You have saved them. You have saved us. Oh, Torsten, you are magnificent!”
“Careful, wife,” he whispered in her ear. “My brothers and Eileen and Feisal, and Martha are here with us.”
“What?” She drew back and swept a glance around the chamber. Scalding heat washed over her for they did indeed have a rapt audience.
Ruard, Jarvik, Njal, and another warrior she did not recognize, all sat on the bench behind the table. Eileen and Feisal stood near the hallway.
“How long have they been here,” she asked in a low tone.
Torsten’s lips twitched and she wanted to cuff him. The beast. He was amused. Her sons were saved. She and Torsten would never be parted. Elation trilled through her. “We have already given Brom and Rob their birthmarks. And ’tis nigh time for the feast.”
“Torsten,” stated the warrior she did not know.
“Ah, I nigh forgot. Ainslin, this is the brother you have not met as yet. Magnus, also known as The Destroyer, meet my wife, Ainslin,” Torsten explained.
“My lady.” Magnus inclined. “I am pleased to meet my new sister.”
An hour later, Ainslin sat at the head table overflowing with excited anticipation. Brom and Rob were seared in the huge chair vacated by Jarl Olsson, because he had departed with Helga and Camilla.
The hall was yet empty because they had arrived early to accustom the boys to their seat.
“Mayhap, we should put them ’tween us?” Ainslin suggested.
“Nay. Not until after we have introduced them to all. We want Sigrid to see their birthmarks immediately. Worry not, wife. Magnus will sit on the other side of Sigrid. He will ensure Sigrid does not harm our sons.”
Our sons.
How she loved her husband. Unable to resist, Ainslin leaned over to kiss his stubbled jaw. “I love you.”
“My heart, I believe Rob is about to climb onto the table,” Torsten warned.
Alarmed, she turned and pressed Rob back into the chair. She lectured both boys on the proper behavior for the meal, told them what an honor it was for them to be there, and made both boys promise to obey her every command.
An hour later, ’twas sheer exhilaration to observe Sigrid’s expression when he glimpsed Brom and Rob. Ainslin had to choke back her laughter. For the warrior lost all color and he stumbled. Rage replaced his shock and he glowered at Ainslin.
“Good eve, Earl Sigrid,” she greeted him, her voice meek and mild.
“Brats have no place at the head table,” Sigrid growled.
“My sons are being introduced to the people of Stjórardalr this eve, Earl Sigrid,” she retorted. “We are honoring you by placing them next to you.”
“Honor?” Sigrid snarled. But he took the seat assigned to him, his mouth pursed in disgust. “Insult, you mean.”
“Would you not like to have Brom or Rob sit on your lap? My sons are amiable and cheery companions, save for the occasional bite,” she clarified.
“My wife speaks the truth about their sharp teeth. They bear a remarkable resemblance to Hadrain the Blessed,” Torsten commented. “Being that they both bear his birthmark.”
Sigrid, in the midst of taking a sip of wine, spat the liquid, and a wide arc of scarlet sprayed all over the bleached tablecloth. “What?”
He straddled the bench and grabbed Rob who yelped in protest.
“Have a care with my son.” Torsten pushed back his chair and stood.
Magnus echoed Torsten’s movements.
The hall went quiet.
Sigrid, holding a squirming Rob by the shoulders, freed one hand and scraped the boy’s long hair to one side. He gasped. “’Tis c
annot be.”
“Handle the boy roughly, and I will see you in the training field on the morrow,” Magnus stated, towering over the seated Sigrid.
Sigrid grabbed a cleaning cloth, dipped the square in his goblet, and attempted to scour the birthmark off Rob’s nape.
Rob objected with a deafening bellow.
Magnus plucked Rob out of Sigrid’s hold.
“’Tis cannot be,” Sigrid again exclaimed. He reached for Brom and repeated his actions.
Brom, who sat placidly while Sigrid scrubbed his nape, continued to devour the loaf he held in one hand.
“Enough,” Torsten roared. “Release my son, Earl Sigrid!”
Shocked into compliance Sigrid stopped trying to erase the birthmark from Brom’s nape. “’Tis a trick!”
“Stand, Earl Sigrid and state your accusation before the hall and the nobles at my head table,” Torsten commanded.
Sigrid pushed off the bench and rose.
Before he could utter a word, Torsten spoke, “Be warned, Earl Sigrid, that at this table are seated three Earls who fought alongside Earl Hadrain and know well why he was named the blessed by our King Canute. Each man has met my sons, each has avowed their witness to their birthmarks, and each has given their word to declare so to the king.”
Defeated, Sigrid sat without another word.
Torsten ordered, “Ainslin, take Brom and stand. Magnus give me Rob.”
When they both were standing and holding a son in their arms, Torsten announced, “People of Stjórardalr, nobles, I am pleased to claim my wife’s sons, Brom and Rob, as mine. I bid you guard them well and keep them safe.”
The introductions finished, they sat, and Ainslin signaled for the feast to begin.
Sigrid sat through the first course, excused himself from the rest of the feast on pretense of weariness, and departed.
Ainslin knew Torsten had men dogging Sigrid’s footsteps and she waited with baited breath to hear where the Earl had gone. Halfway through the meal, a warrior approached the head table and requested to speak with Torsten.
When Torsten granted the man leave to come onto the dais, the warrior spent a couple of minutes whispering into her husband’s ear.
