by Tami Dee
"Twice you have done grievous harm to my father," Leif accused him.
"Aye, I did it," Cavan told him scornfully. "And I would do it all again if I could. I hated him. I hate him still, just as I do all of your precious family. I have been setting you against one another for years but you were all so arrogant and stupid to notice. Who do you think arranged for your wife to plot against you on your wedding day? Who do you think kept Scipio informed on the comings and goings of your raiding parties so he could time his attacks when you were at your weakest? Who arranged for this whore who stands before you, to be kidnapped and blamed for trying to kill you? Scipio was a pawn, just like Katla and all of you. I played you all like a puppet master and you the puppets on strings. Strings I controlled."
Kat trembled behind Nabboddr as Cavan continued to rage in a high-pitched voice.
"And do you want to know why? Do you even care what drove me for all these years? It was you, Nabboddr! You and your raiding party attacked my village. I was five but I remember it as if it was yesterday.
"You burst into our hut, your men raped my mother, killed my father. You would have made my sister a slave had it not been for her deformed foot, which spelled death for her. I was too young to fight against you. To frightened. But I was smart. I knew that if you grew to trust me that I could at least attempt to tear your family apart as you did mine. And I would have succeeded if it had not been for her."
Suddenly, breaking free, he lunged for Kat but Nabboddr placed himself between them, holding his knife in such a way that, running, Cavan impaled himself on it.
Kat couldn't meet Nabboddr's eyes. The things he had done to Cavan's family, to Cavan, they were unforgivable.
Barbaric.
Kat knew that she didn't belong in this time or place.
Leif started to move towards her and his father stopped him with a look.
Placing a gentle finger under her chin, the old man raised her face.
"What Cavan said is true," he said. "It is the way of a raid. Domination is necessary, for only those who dominate will survive this harsh time we live in. I will not make excuses for my actions, daughter."
Kat found her voice with difficulty. "You ordered the murder of an eight year old girl just because she had a club foot?"
"Only the strong survive, Kat. Her parents were dead and I could not be bothered with a flawed slave, to feed and shelter someone that could not give a full day's work. None in her village that survived our raid would have taken her in. She would have been a burden. She would have perished slowly without her parents."
Kat shook her head trying to make since of her feelings. She cared for Nabboddr. He was a warm and caring man. Yet he believed that he did a child a favor by killing her.
His patient voice broke into her thoughts. "I hope that you can accept me as your father-in-law, Kat, and that someday you will understand our ways."
She was torn. These people lived in a very different time than she came from, and there was nothing she could do to change them.
When he opened his arms, she fell into them and when the old man released his hold she turned into Leif's embrace. As if he could read her mind, he answered her unasked question.
"Nay, Kat," he told her gently. "When I lead a raid neither I nor my warriors engage in rape or the slaying of children. We strive to capture as many as we can to use as our thralls or to sell to other countries for a profit."
Kat said nothing. She simply let him hold her. His ways were not hers, nor would they ever be completely. But were she to stay, she would do what good she could.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
"Come," Leif said, as he led Kat through the great hall and out the thick double doors. They walked in silence until they reached a quiet spot just inside the birch forest where the noises of victory coming from the fortress faded away.
Leif settled himself against a thin tree trunk, and then pulled Kat down onto his lap, where his lips meeting hers in a heated rush, into which she immediately melted.
Regardless of the standards of his culture, there was no denying that she loved Leif with all her heart.
As his mouth plundered hers with the same abandon of which he did everything, she knew, with every fiber of her being, that she would stay in his time with him if he recanted his decree of her thralldom, and acknowledged her as his wife in truth.
But would he? Could he find it within himself to choose her over his people, and then live with the consequences afterward? She didn't know. What she did know as his hand made its way under her makeshift cloak and between the ripped cloth of her dress to cup her breast, was that together they could overcome any obstacle his clan could throw at them.
Although his hand seared her flesh, goose bumps skirted across her skin and she shivered. With an emotion-filled moan, he pulled his hand away and tugged the folds of her covering together, tweaking her nose afterward.
Placing his thumb and forefinger between his lips, he blew out one sharp whistle. Kat heard quick footsteps amidst the underbrush, and then saw the youth that had the unpleasant task of removing her from the fray lumbering towards them, managing somehow not to trip over his amazingly long legs, her ill gotten cloak hanging over one arm and a bundle under the other.
She felt herself flushing guilty as he stopped in front of them and handed Leif the cloak, and what turned out to be a pair of men's 'pajama' trousers with the built in feet, and a long beige tunic, which, unless she missed her guess, Kat would have to say belonged to him. Kat could not believe that she had left him to live or die as he would in the great hall, defending her against a man twice his age and size, yet he seemed unscratched! Clearly, the boy's gawky appearance hid a great deal of skill and grace.
"Where did he come from?" Kat asked, half smiling as he made his escape back into the forest.
"There are guards throughout this area," he said as he started to push the covering from her shoulders. "In case any of Scipio's men have not heard that they have been defeated."
She shivered again, but not only from the cold, but from the grim reminder of his reality.
As he stood, bringing her with him in an easy motion, he started to remove her ruined dress until she slapped his hands away.
"Don't do that," she told him shrilly, glancing around the apparently deserted forest looking for unseen eyes.
"Our privacy is assured, lady," he chuckled, resuming his task. "My men will keep their backs to us."
By the time all her clothing was laying in a heap at their feet her teeth were chattering. Rather than hurry and dress her Leif seemed to be taking inventory of her various scrapes and bruises.
"Leif, surely there will be a better time to do this," she said. "I'm freezing."
He tugged her to him, pressing her naked form against his fully clothed one and kissed her with such heat that she no longer felt the chill, and with such passion that she forgot her protests. And when, at last, he released her lips he set about dressing her, tugging on the trousers, then stopping after he laced the paneled front to run soft kisses along the angry torn flesh of Boddi's whip. After what seemed to be a reflective moment during which he fingered the gleaming gold band at her arm, he finished dressing her then wrapped her cloak about her.
Then, in a husky voice she barely recognized as his, he did the unimaginable. He apologized.
"I'm sorry, Kat," he said. "For everything you've been though. Your happiness means every thing to me. You are the better part of me. You make me complete. Even before we met, we were destined to be together, soul mates that traveled the spans of time to find one another. I promise you this elskaminn. Even if that same chasm of time should take you away from me, I will always love you."
Kat's heart was so full she could not speak. He loved her. Truly loved her. Moreover, she loved him, completely.
Could she live without him in her time? She didn't know. And, if she were to be brutally honest with herself, she would admit that Rosie, Singlee and yes, even McCarty were all she had in h
er time. Yet here, with Leif, she had gained an entire family, a family she did not wish to loose.
"We must go now," Leif said somberly, running a finger along the line of her chin.
Her heart sank with the knowledge that very soon now painful decisions would have to be made, decisions she hoped she would be strong enough to make, for herself and for her baby.
Her hand moved protectively over her flat stomach.
"Kat," he said, making her jump guiltily. "Do you carry my seed within you?"
Yes. "No."
She lied. Fear suddenly griped her, as it never had before.
She knew that Leif would never let her leave his time with his child growing under her heart, and she must know where his loyalty lay before she told him of the infant. She wanted, no she needed, him to claim her as his wife in truth, over his clan's prejudices for her own merit, not that she carried his child.
Kat refused to let herself think that, if he chose to, he could hold her prisoner until she gave birth, giving her no choice but to begin on the twisted, narrow road of plotting and secret plans for escape, possibly, no definitely, hurting the ones she cared about in order to flee.
Oh God. She couldn't go through that. She prayed she wouldn't have to.
His eyes hadn't left her face.
"Would you be lying to me Kat?"
Yes. "No," she said, half hoping that he would not hear the word.
He nodded his head, his eyes uncertain as he grasped her hand and led her out of the forest.
*****
Leif studied the woman whose hand he clutched in his. The relief he had felt on learning that Kat had not run away from him was profound.
Never had a woman brought out the good in him to such an extent as she. And, ironically enough, never had a woman brought out so equally all that was bad in him so quickly.
He had felt so betrayed, so hurt, when he had thought she had followed through on her threat to run away. The sting of betrayal had caused him to want to strike out at her any way he could.
Now, thanks to Cavan's insane ravings, he knew the truth. She had not left willingly. She had not harmed his father or betrayed his family's trust.
She was his. She would always be his, for he knew that, no matter what, he would never let her go. Her body was bruised and battered, and no doubt, her mind must be affected by the abuse she'd suffered, not only at Cavan's hands but also at Scipio's. He wondered if she had been raped. Eventually he would have to ask her, but not now. She seemed content under the circumstances, and he did not wish to upset her by bringing up unpleasant memories if she had been.
Now at least Leif understood now why Scipio had searched so diligently for the infant, hating the blood that ran through its veins as much as he hated Rollo and Katla.
Leif shook his head. This has been a day of revelations.
He knew that things were far from settled between him and Kat, and that he had some serious decisions to make regarding her and her status in his household.
Leif strongly suspected she did indeed carry his child, and knew for a certainty that if she did, she would never admit as much, not with his threats hanging over her head. His jaw clenched in determination. Regardless of how things played out between them, her concern was warranted, for he would never allow her to leave him or his time if she carried his child.
The real problem was that he wanted both, a child from Kat and Kat herself. Body and soul.
However, Leif knew his people, the ways of his time. His people would stage a revolt if he freed her of her thralldom. None would believe that she had bought her way out of slavery, were such an act even allowed for a prisoner of war.
They would never forgive him if he forgave the woman they thought responsible for so much death.
Leif groaned. What was he to do?
Chapter Forty
Leif and Kat reached the edge of the clearing and hesitated. Their love for one another was about to be tested, and they both knew it. Once back amongst his men, his family, the captives, lines would have to be drawn between them, lines that could not be crossed. If they erred in any way, pandemonium could, would, break out.
A woman's high-pitched scream came from inside the great hall, followed by the thin wail of an infant.
Leif and Kat's eyes met and held before they broke into a run, pushing their way into the hall. Most of the bodies had been cleared out. The puddles of blood had seeped into the ground that constituted the floor. The wooden benches had been righted and long slabs that made up the tables had been placed in front of them.
To Kat's left, a giant warrior held an old woman fast. Tears trickled down her wrinkled face.
When she saw Kat she began to scream in earnest, her words too clogged by sobs for Kat to understand.
Kat recoiled in confusion, disturbed and a little frightened by the woman's obvious hatred of her.
What had her ancestor done to this person?
To Kat's horror an infant laid atop a crude table, wrapped in swaddling that had loosened. A tiny leg was kicking in the cold air.
Its cry broke Kat's heart and she went to it, her arms outstretched, only to be caught and held by Davyn and another warrior whose blond hair and striking features could only belong, she thought, to Leif's other brother, Ofeig.
"Why is no one taking care of the child?" she demanded, casting her eyes around the room in desperation.
Nabboddr met her eyes, his expression unreadable. Davyn refused to meet her eye at all.
She struggled against Davyn and Ofeig's hold, to no avail.
"Don't any of you have a heart?" she cried, her voice breaking. "Where's its mother?"
Her brothers-in-law shifted beside her.
"Why are you holding that woman? Who is she?"
Her frustration grew as silence followed her questions.
With purposeful steps Leif strode over to the infant and pulled the covering off its body.
The little boy had no clothing on under the swaddling and Kat watched as goose bumps broke out on his pink skin.
"Leif!" she screeched in confusion, renewing her efforts to free herself.
The old woman also renewed her struggles, cursing Leif mightily.
It was then that Kat noticed that the infant had black hair. She leaned forward as far as she could, at the same time as the crying baby turned his head toward her.
Sea blue eyes stared back at her for the space of three heartbeats.
"Its Katla's son," she whispered in awe.
Leif nodded his head and pulled a knife from his belt, the thin six-inch blade captured Kat's gaze, mesmerizing her.
No. He wouldn't!
His face as hard as stone and his large hand steady, he placed the tip of the blade to the child's stomach.
Kat and the old woman screamed so loudly several of the men surrounding them cringed.
Leif, his eyes full of regret and determination, set the knife aside and met Kat's eyes.
"Kat. The Book of Sagas from your Amma's safe deposit box, it told of this child." His voice, although not raised, rang out clearly in the now silent hall. All were at attention.
"Katla's son, Arild, grows into a mighty warrior. This woman, this midwife, will raise him, poisoning his mind against our family since, like Cavan, she has ancient grudges, blaming us for the death of her sons when we conquered their land many years ago. She became a childless widow and a slave. She escaped our clan, running away. That is how she came to be in Rollo's household. He wasted no time in making her his slave.
"When he exiled Katla, he sent this woman into exile with her to care for Katla and birth her baby. Rollo, too, wished the infant dead, his pride not willing to allow his rebellious daughter to suckle a child of a man not of his choosing."
"No!" Kat cried.
Ruthlessly, Leif continued. It was clear that he was determined that the story be told. "Rollo ordered her to drown the child as soon as it came into the world. But according to the saga, she decided to keep the infant and raise
him as her own. It was easy for her to do, once she learned that Rollo and his family had all been killed.
"The saga that you know of told that Katla took her own life, but the truth was that it was she," he pointed to the now silent woman sagging between her captors. "She was the one who plunged the dagger into Katla's breast."
The air left Kat's lungs. "She didn't commit suicide?" she gasped.
"Nay, Kat, she was murdered."
Kat was stunned, all the pity she had felt for the elderly midwife gone.
"How could you have done such a thing?" Kat cried.
"You're supposed to be dead," the midwife screeched. "I killed you myself. You cannot have the child. He's mine! Mine, you hear? Mine!"
"Shut her up." Leif bit out the words.
Immediately the man holding her pulled out his knife.
"Leif, no!" Kat protested, horrified.
"Just keep her quiet for now," Leif told his men.
The knife disappeared back into his belt.
The old woman wasn't grateful, cursing Katla's being alive until one of the warriors shoved a rag into her mouth. Even then she screeched and thrashed.
"And you, Leif?" Kat demanded. "What will you do with the child? An infant that none except his mother, a crazy old woman, and I seem to want alive?"
