"Erik, run for Seamus! He is in the animal house!"
While Erik’s footsteps pattered across the bridge Freyda put Gwynneth in her basket. Using the rope of clothes as a weapon, she beat it against Leif’s back.
With one hand still ensnared in Gillian’s hair, he whirled around to Freyda’s attack. She slashed it across his face. He fell back, loosening his hold on Gillian.
Gillian gasped for air, her lungs burning from the effort. Even in her semi-daze she tried to crawl to safety. Freyda beat at Leif without pause, giving Gillian the precious time she needed to recover. But Leif was a man used to abusing women, and while Freyda’s defense took him unaware, he recovered his surprise quickly. In one smooth movement he was on his feet. With the next lash he grabbed Freyda’s rope. Gillian lunged forward, sinking her teeth into his calf.
His scream cut the air, but the wound was far from disabling. With a roar he backhanded Freyda. Her head whipped back so hard Gillian heard her neck crack. An instant later she fell unconscious to the ground. Leif wasted no time returning to his first prey. While Gillian masked the fear in her eyes, he wound his hand in her hair.
"Now for you, witch." He shoved her face into the water.
Gillian could give only token resistance. She flailed about trying to break free as darkness closed in on her. Her blood roared in her ears, magnifying her heart beats. She felt her body float away and knew death was near. A drumming in the distance called to her.
The hooves on Andor’s horse beat a steady rhythm as Andor heeled it to a gallop across the bridge. Rollo and his mount were only feet behind him. By the grace of the gods they had returned home in time to hear Erik’s tearful screams for help.
Leif’s head jerked up at the sound of their approach. Andor thought he detected a moment of fear in his cold, dark eyes, but it was quickly masked. He released Gillian and drew his sword. As he backed away toward his home, he dragged Thora with him to use as a shield.
Andor let him go. Leif wouldn’t be hard to find when it came time for vengeance. His only concern now was Gillian and Freyda. He reined his horse to a stop and leaped to Gillian’s side. With loving care he scooped her in his arms.
Gillian sputtered for air. "The baby," she said through her coughs, "she is hurt...Freyda too."
Andor turned around. Rollo cradled Freyda and pressed a wet cloth to her head. She heaved a breath and opened groggy eyes. A bruise marred the right side of her face. Andor ground his teeth until they squeaked, but his fury was barely held in place.
Footsteps clattered upon the bridge as Seamus and a few of the other men ran to help.
"Do you want a cart?" he shouted.
"No time for that. Help us get the women on the horses," Andor said. To Gillian he asked, "Can you hold Gwynneth?"
"Aye." When she tried to stand, Andor kept her down.
"I shall bring her to you."
His heart raced with panic as he bent to retrieve the baby from her basket. She was so still he was afraid she was dead. He gingerly lifted her cold body and held his breath while he waited to hear hers. It was faint, but it existed.
"Bring my horse, Seamus."
He placed Gwynneth in Gillian’s arms then, with the help of his men, set mother and child atop the horse. Rollo was already across the bridge with Freyda. Erik waited anxiously by the house.
"Hold on, love," he told Gillian. "‘Twill not be long."
By the time they reached the house, Gillian had stripped Gwynneth’s wet clothes away and bundled her in Andor’s cloak. At least her body had begun to warm, yet she still had not moved.
Andor carried both inside to the warmth of the hearth. Freyda lay on a fur before it, a wet cloth over her eyes. While Gillian placed Gwynneth securely in her cradle, Andor retrieved the white fur from their bedroom. Then he shielded her with it and peeled away her sodden garments.
"Sit by the fire with the baby and warm yourself." He kissed her forehead. "I will make you some hot tea."
"Why does she not move?" she asked, her gaze transfixed to the cradle.
"I do not know." Andor turned to Rollo. "I have heard there is a physician six farms to the east."
"I am already on my way," Rollo replied.
The oil lamps cast ghostly shadows over the young physician’s face as he pressed an herbal poultice over the purple bruise disfiguring Gwynneth’s head. Andor would have had more faith in the man if he were a bit older, but he carried out his examination with confident precision. Even if he did not have the experience of years, at least he seemed to know what he was doing. He had even been able to ease the ache in Freyda’s head.
He watched the shallow rise and fall of Gwynneth’s chest. It mirrored Gillian’s, as if she still drew life from her mother. Up, down. Andor found his breathing matching that of theirs. It was a frightening pattern etched on the mind. If any of them broke it, together they would die.
Andor shook the morbid thought away and sucked in a breath. The spicy poultice assaulted his nostrils. It was a wonder that the aroma alone didn’t arouse Gwynneth. He tucked one hand behind his back, in the other he clutched the amulet around his neck and paced the length of the hearth.
"I have done all I can," the physician told them. "‘Twould help if we all prayed."
Pray? The amulet had made indentations in his hand, he prayed so hard. Freyda and Rollo had not moved in the hours they knelt in prayer before the tiny statue of Thor. Even young Erik solemnly joined them from time to time. And Gillian - her gaze had not wavered from the baby. Her knuckles were white from where she clasped them beneath her chin, praying in the way her people did. Was the man so blind he could not see this?
"I have been praying since the bastard first kicked her in the river," Gillian said, her voice soft but firm.
"Said well enough for us all." From the corner of his eye Andor saw the physician slump to a stool beside the cradle. Andor counted him sufficiently subdued and continued pacing.
He had taken no more than two circuits around the hearth when Gwynneth’s breathing turned raspy. He hurried to Gillian’s side, folding his fingers over her shoulder as the two of them leaned forward. They breathed in unison, unconsciously adding their strength to that of the child. In...out. Up...down. Every pause she made, they did also, praying it would not be her last. In...out. Up...down. There was another pause, one that lasted too long.
"No," Gillian whispered.
With tears glimmering in her eyes, she looked up at Andor. He reached into the cradle and pulled the lifeless body to his chest. He lifted his face upward, beseeching all the gods to give her life. But his call went unheard. No longer would her gurgle light up his day. The future he had dreamed of no longer existed. His daughter, as much as if he had planted the seed of her beginnings himself, was dead. It was the worst pain his heart had ever felt.
Gillian dusted her hands over the tiny body. "My baby?"
"She is gone, my love," Andor said, his voice choked with emotion.
"I would hold her once more."
Andor placed Gwynneth in her arms then held Gillian close while they grieved. He heard Freyda crying, and was grateful that Rollo comforted her, for he could not. Erik tugged at her skirts - so much death for a small boy to deal with. Freyda wrapped an arm around him. Rollo picked him up.
"Mother, did Jormungand take the baby’s life also?" he asked.
Gillian broke free of Andor’s arms and whirled around. "I am sick of your heathen gods and goddesses!" She lashed out at Thor’s statue, sending it hurling across the room. "To be sure it was a sea monster which took my baby’s life! A sea monster my people call Gaill!" With Gwynneth still clutched in her arms, she fell to her knees to sob.
Andor wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his sword. Gillian was right - a hideous monster was responsible for his daughter’s death, but it was an earthly monster, not one of myth.
"Leif will die," he told her. "This I vow to you."
He spun around on his heel, but before he could leave to carry ou
t his threat, Rollo grabbed his arm.
"This is not the way," he said. "If you kill Leif, you will be as guilty as he is. Let the lawmakers at the Thing decide his fate. ‘Tis the only way. To do otherwise may cause Gillian and Freyda to lose you."
Andor’s breath came in huffs as he tried to control his rage.
"‘Tis time to tend to Gwynneth," Freyda told him. "We need you here."
Andor’s eyes clouded with tears he refused to blink away. "I have word the Thing will meet next week. Although it is my right by birth to sit as judge, I shall relinquish that right for this meeting and charge Leif with the murder of my daughter." He fell to his knees beside Gillian and wrapped his arms around his wife and baby daughter.
Rollo faced the physician. "‘Tis best you leave. We do not need your presence to bury the babe."
The man scurried away without hesitation.
Rollo rested his large hand on Gillian’s head. "Our ways are different and for that I am sorry, especially in this time of grief. In order to do right by you and Gwynneth, I need to know - how do you wish to bury her?"
"In a Christian grave...Seamus will know," was her muffled response.
* * *
CHAPTER 9
"Woman, I will not have my daughter shoved in a box all alone!"
Gillian stood before Andor, arms stiff at her sides, fists clenched. For now, she had no more tears left in her and let anger take over for grief. "Would you rather dump her naked in a hole and throw dirt in her face?"
"She would not be dumped in naked! She would be dressed in her finest with all her things to guide her to the next world so that she may use them! You are sending her with nothing!"
"She is my daughter and will have a Christian burial before the Lord, not a heathen rite for God to scorn!"
"She is my daughter too, and will have all she requires for her next life!"
"She is not your daughter. You were not there when she was conceived."
If she meant to wound him, she had found her mark. Andor scowled and pushed his face to within inches of hers. Through gritted teeth he said, "I might have not been there to plant her, but I was there to pull her out. Which is more than you could have expected from the sainted Evan."
Andor saw a flash of movement from the corner of his eye, and caught Gillian’s wrist before she could strike him. For extra caution, he grabbed the other then pulled both behind the small of her back.
"Stop it, stop it, stop it!" Freyda shoved herself between the couple. With arms crossed over their chests they turned their backs to her and each other.
"What is the matter with the two of you? The child’s body is barely cold and here you are warring again. You both talk of heathen behavior, there can be nothing more heathen than this. Where is your respect for the dead? She loved you both - her mother, her father. She knew not the ways of the Gaill or the Gaedhil. Can the two of you not compromise? Gillian, what would it hurt to have Gwynneth’s things with her? Surely your God would not begrudge the wants of a baby."
Gillian’s shoulders slumped. Tears she thought gone reappeared. She buried her face in her hands.
"And, Andor," Freyda said, "Gwynneth will still be nestled in her fur bunting. The box Gillian wants will be very much like her cradle. She would like that. Nice and warm."
He stared into the far corner of the room, but made no comment.
They were quiet for so long, Freyda began to wonder if they would stand like that forever. Finally, it was Andor who made the first move, spurred by a choked sob from Gillian. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back to his chest.
"Can it be as Freyda has said?" he asked. "For the sake of laying our daughter to rest?"
Gillian nodded.
"Then ‘tis time we did so."
Gillian pushed away to wrap Gwynneth in her white bear bunting, but when it came to placing her in the wooden box Rollo had labored a full day to build, she could not do it. Andor took the child and lay her inside, then lifted the box. He looked first to Gillian then to Freyda and Rollo.
"‘Tis time." Gillian led the way to the baby’s grave where their people waited to pay their last respects.
Andor waited for Freyda and Rollo to gather Gwynneth’s things, then carried his daughter to her final place. By the time he reached it, he was nearly blinded by tears. With loving affection he dropped a kiss to her head before placing her in the ground with her possessions.
Seamus intoned the Christian words to commit her body to the earth. When he was done, Andor led Gillian away so that neither of them would have to see the burial.
"I want him dead," Gillian said as they walked away.
"Sometimes death is a blessing to those who do not deserve it," Andor replied.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
He grabbed her shoulders in a gentle hold and turned her to face him. "It means that there are many more satisfying ways to make a man suffer than to kill him."
"Such as?"
"You will see." He bent to kiss her forehead, but Gillian drew back. Since Gwynneth’s death, she had done nothing but avoid contact with him. Everyone handled grief in their own way, he tried to tell himself, but it still did nothing to ease his hurt that she would not turn to him. He longed to tell her that he was hurting as much as she, that he needed her comfort too. But he refused to lay another burden upon her shoulders. He was the man; strength must come from him. They had grown together the last weeks, surely that would count for something in the long run.
"Freyda will be with you soon," he told her. "I have something I must tend to."
Gillian watched as he mounted his horse and rode off in the direction of Leif’s farm. To avenge Gwynneth’s death, she hoped. But how, if he had no intention of killing him? There seemed no way to make a man like Leif suffer, yet she wished for him to experience the pain they were going through right now.
"Where has Andor gone?" Rollo asked as he and Freyda joined her.
Gillian continued to look toward the bridge. "To Leif’s. He means for Leif to suffer for Gwynneth’s death."
Rollo muttered an unintelligible curse under his breath and hurried to catch him.
"I had hoped Andor would be patient enough to wait for revenge at the Thing," Freyda said with a sigh.
"What is this Thing?" Gillian asked.
"A big meeting of all freemen in the area. ‘Tis very important. Business is discussed, there is trading, sporting events, and trials of lawbreakers. A council of leaders heads the meeting and the crowd decides the guilt of the criminals after hearing all the evidence."
"Are they fair?"
Freyda shrugged. "It could go either way."
Andor heard hoofbeats pounding up behind him and reined his horse to a stop. He knew without looking that the rider was Rollo. He wanted to reassure his friend that he meant no immediate harm to Leif, but the closer he got to Leif’s house, the more he began to doubt that himself. He was glad Rollo had followed to help him keep his head cool.
"Welcome, my friend."
"What are you up to?" His tone held suspicion and a hint of a reprimand.
"If I am to charge Leif at the Thing, he must know to be there."
"Then if that is your purpose, ‘tis best to have a witness with you," Rollo said.
"So that I do not forget my purpose?" Andor asked with a half-hearted smile.
"When emotions are involved, ‘tis easy to forget your purpose."
They rode on in silence, each knowing that their visit could spark more violence. It would be best to confront Leif at a distance, but in such a way so there could be no mistake of the charges, then get away before Leif could mount an attack against them. Andor realized then how foolish he had been to attempt this on his own. He was wondering if he and Rollo might return home for more men when he spied Leif ahead working on his house. All of his men were with him.
"‘Twould be best if we stop here," Andor said, but Rollo had already reined his horse to a stop.
"Leif!"
&
nbsp; The other man looked up from his work, lay aside the support beam he was trying to install, and stepped to the forefront.
"Come no farther," Andor said.
With hands braced on hips, Leif paused. "What is it you wish of me?"
"You killed my baby daughter."
There was a collective gasp among Leif’s people. Thora buried her face in her hands.
"Lies," Leif shouted.
"You killed my daughter, tried to kill my wife, and injured my sister. Next week at the Thing I will charge you before all our people."
"And you will lose," he said.
"We shall see about that...Next week, Leif. My only regret is that it cannot be sooner."
Before any more words could be exchanged, Andor and Rollo wheeled their mounts around and galloped back home.
Freyda waited for them at the animal house. "Well, what happened?"
Andor flung the reins to one of the Irish slaves. "He denied it."
Freyda’s eyes widened. To kill someone was very serious, but to not acknowledge it was worse yet. Everything now hinged on Andor’s ability to present his case. Although he had been to many Things, and been a witness at a few, this would be the first time he had ever argued the law. If they had been in Northland Freyda would not have been so concerned. Here in Iceland Andor could survive on their father’s reputation only so long. This Thing would prove him in the eyes of their fellow countrymen, or ruin them forever.
"What will you do?" she asked.
"As soon as Rollo and I get adequate provisions, we will set out to gather support for our case. We will work until the day of the Thing if we have to. You and Gillian stay close to home. Do not venture outside unless you have at least four men with you." He squeezed her shoulder to reassure her. "Do not worry. All will be well. I will speak with Gillian before we leave."
Another strange custom. A waste of time as far as Gillian was concerned. She didn’t know why they just didn’t take Leif out and hang him, or flog him to death, or mutilate him until not even his mother would recognize him.
The Quest for Gillian’s Heart Page 11
