Ealasaid's blessings were many—a devoted husband and a handsome, smart son. Though she seemed content with her life, how would losing Fulla affect her? The queen had held Fulla for the first time moments after her birth and had hardly let her go since then.
She'd delivered the child with Ealasaid's help. Idunna loved her as much as any mother, and her heart plummeted when she thought of sending the girl across the sea. Idunna's secret ache for a child of her own blossomed more each time she looked after Fulla.
I would take her into my house and call her daughter without hesitation. If it were possible, but no one in Solstad deserved to love the child as much as Ealasaid. She'd risked everything for the settlement. May the gods have mercy and give Fulla to our queen.
Birgir burst into the room, his face flushed and bearing a grin. His cloak twisted around his shoulders and a few snowflakes sparkled in his hair before melting. “Ma! The men are gathering in the courtyard to spar. Da sent me to fetch you. He needs you to cheer for him.”
Ealasaid rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “How many will earn bloody wounds for me to tend once they've burned off their pride?”
Birgir tugged his mother's sleeve. “Come on, Ma. We'll miss it.”
“No one is waiting for remedies now. What can watching a few moments of sword-wielding men hurt? I'll clean up here and join you soon if you'll take Fulla.”
“I will!” Birgir reached for the baby. “My favorite little lass.”
Idunna laughed as she let him take Fulla. “Who's your favorite grown lass?”
A charming smile that perfectly mimicked Hella's spread across the boy's face. “You, of course, Idunna.”
“And what am I?” Ealasaid put her hands on her hips. “Forgotten your old mother already, have you, boy?”
“You're my Ma, more special than any lady, but I do like Idunna for being my aunt. Now can we go?” Birgir jerked his chin at the doorway. “We'll miss Da if you don't hurry.”
“Go, go. I'll be along in a moment. Careful with that baby, Birgir, or it'll cost you a day of riding that ragged little horse you love so much.” Ealasaid shooed him out the door. “You'd better check to see if Eoghann's finished working. He gets so deeply involved in his craft.”
The truth stung a bit. Why did Eoghann seem to forget her when he worked with his metal and glass? A newly married man ought to rush home to be with his wife. But theirs was no love match designed to make him eager to see her again. He'd forget to breathe if it didn't come naturally.
She finished mixing the yarrow, then scraped the fragrant substance into a pot with a lid. Ealasaid was right, they'd almost certainly need it to clean wounds obtained in the sparring matches.
After she fixed her cloak, she made her way to Eoghann's shop. The door was shut tight, but when she stepped inside, the fires were dying and he wasn't there. A few sets of footprints reduced the snow in front of his shop to hardening mush. Curious.
It wouldn't come as a surprise if he'd learned of the sparring and taken off for their bedchamber to avoid watching it. Ealasaid might worry if she didn't show up soon. Instead of returning to the hall, she picked a path to the courtyard.
Cheers and yelling greeted her ears as she approached the crowd watching. The ring of metal cut through the human noise. In the center of the circle of Norse men and women, two warriors faced one another.
Hella gripped Almáttigr, his sword with double golden hound heads on the hilt. Despite the frigid air, he wore only his breeches and a sheen of sweat slicked his skin. Given his size, strength, and air of authority, no one need question who the leader of Solstad was. Hella blazed with kingly manner.
Erik Agmar, his adopted brother, spat at his feet, then advanced with his sword, Skrípi. Slightly smaller in stature and possessing only one eye after the Battle of Freysteinn, Idunna expected him to have the disadvantage. He fought like a demon, always on the move and quick enough to block the thrusts from Hella's sword though his lack of vision must have bothered him. Perhaps they'd been sparring long enough to guess each other's next moves.
The rake of clashing metal agitated her ears. She hadn't seen any of the fighting on the hillside outside Freysteinn, but the cries of pain had followed her through sleep in the aftermath. Norsemen fought for glory and honor. Every flex of muscle, every drop of sweat, and the crimson splash of blood that appeared on Hella's upper arm spoke of the dedication these men placed on their fighting skills.
Hella merely grinned as blood trickled down his skin. “Well met.”
“Your head on the ground is my next move.” Erik's mouth twisted in a feral smile. “Come, vikingr konungr, defeat me.”
At another time and place, his mocking tongue might have been cut out for using Hella's title as king in such an acidic manner.
Hella's face hardened. He attacked, swinging Almáttigr with strength. The end of the blade struck Erik's hilt with a ringing sound.
Erik yelped as Skrípi fell from his fingers.
Hella drew Almáttigr up so the steel rested against Erik's throat. “I believe you yield, brother.”
“Aye, for now.” Erik took a step backward. “A fine move, Your Grace. Remember who drew first blood.” The bitterness of loss showed as he bent to retrieve his sword. “May the next man best you.”
“Don't be sore, Erik. Have a rest and some mead, then take your wife home and make me another hoard of little warriors.” Hella clapped him on the shoulder. “Erland's almost big enough to best me now. I need someone new to spar with.”
“There's not a man in this village you haven't beaten.” Erik's mouth twisted. “Save one.”
The hair on Idunna's neck rose. She hadn't lived in Solstad long, but there wasn't any doubt who Erik meant. If Eoghann dared lift a blade against Hella, he would allow the king win to show his submissiveness. It might lead to more ridicule from their neighbors if he showed no spirit for fighting. Please let him be in the hall.
Erik's sword flashed as he pointed out Eoghann in the crowd. “Come on, spar with your king.”
Eoghann held up his hand. “Not today.”
All of Solstad knew he didn't own a weapon. He'd surrendered his sword the day he bowed to Hella. It rested in the king's chamber until such a time came that Hella saw fit to return it. A captured enemy sword made a great prize.
“Do you fear the sting of Almáttigr? The bite of blade on your soft Saxon skin?” Erik circled Eoghann. “Afraid of another defeat like the one you suffered on that hillside from the Heathen Army?”
Eoghann balled his fists and lifted his chin. “There's nothing to fear from defeat. I live, do I not?”
“By the grace of a woman.” Erik laughed. The whitish-pink flesh of his eyelid stretched over his empty eye socket crinkled a bit. “Defend her honor.”
“I have no weapon.” Eoghann's voice came out soft. “It's for the king to decide if I should carry one.”
Erik rolled his wrist and offered Skrípi. “Take it. This match is nothing more than a game. Surely there's no harm in allowing you to play for the length of time it takes the king to knock you off your feet. Unless your fear is too great.”
Across the circle, Eoghann's gaze met hers before shifting back to the man in front of him. He nodded slightly. “Your offer is kind, Erik. This is a good sword.”
“Phantom enjoys the taste of enemy blood. I've often wondered how it would perform in the hands of a cowardly Sax—”
Eoghann snatched the sword, then smashed the pommel against Erik's nose.
Blood spewed from Erik's face and spilled down his chest in a flood. He swore as he pressed his hand against the flow. “Filthy Saxon cur!”
Eoghann flexed his wrist, testing the weight of the sword. “It seems to have no preference for the taste of blood whether it's Dane or Saxon. A fine weapon, indeed.”
Sigrid, Erik's wife, pushed her way through the crowd. She scowled at Eoghann, but before she could speak, Ealasaid reached them.
“Let me have a look at it. We should set it as
soon as we can.” She took Erik's arm and led him away from the courtyard with Sigrid in their wake.
Eoghann met Idunna's gaze again.
Are you trying to make enemies among these men? A broken nose was no small thing. It carried far more weight than the sting of words.
“Will you spar with me, Eoghann?” Hella lifted Almáttigr in one hand and gestured to the circle with the other. “You shall tend Erik's weapon until he returns to ask for it. There is plenty of time to use it in his absence.”
“My king, I prefer to clean his blade and give it a rest before it needs to find a use again.”
Hella frowned. “Very well. If you insist.” He turned his back on Eoghann. “Who else wishes to play in the ring? Who would defeat Almáttigr?”
Idunna fought her way to Eoghann. “What are you doing? Do you realize the danger you've thrust yourself into with Erik as an enemy?”
“I put an end to him calling me cowardly. I won't suffer to be called that word.” A muscle in his jaw jumped. His knuckles whitened as he gripped Skrípi's hilt. “My father was a great chieftain who died fighting for his settlement and family. His blood courses through my veins. I don't wish to fight, Idunna, but I will defend myself when necessary.”
Before the last word left this lips, Eoghann pushed Idunna out of the way. He took two steps, then slammed into Hella.
Idunna pressed her hand to her mouth. Is he mad?
The king stumbled, but didn't lose his grip on Almáttigr. He lifted it, prepared to attack Eoghann, but it fell to his side as a woman in the crowd screamed.
A figure scrambled over Solstad Hall's rooftop. In his hand, a bow was clearly visible. The evening sunlight shined on a quiver of arrows strung across his back. Men separated themselves from the crowd to chase the assailant.
“Idunna,” Hella snapped.
She gasped and her knees weakened.
Eoghann sagged against the king. His blue eyes were half-closed and he bared his teeth when he hissed. A thick, black-shafted arrow with yellow stripes against black fletch protruded from his left shoulder. A crimson stain spread across the fabric of his jerkin.
She reached for him, but Eoghann shook his head.
“Safety. The king and the boy. Get them...inside the hall.”
Bjorn slipped Eoghann's opposite arm over his shoulder. “Come, quickly. We must find Ealasaid. She'll remove the arrow, make him good as new.”
She grabbed Birgir, who still held Fulla, and pushed them in front of her toward the hall. Her heart pounded as the king and his brother half dragged, half carried Eoghann.
I cannot lose him. Not a second husband.
The trail of blood he left behind in the gray, trampled snow spoke the tale of a man who might have seen his last dawn.
Chapter Five
Ealasaid met them at the doorway. She paled at the blood, then grabbed Hella's arm. “I heard the screams. What happened?”
Birgir tore free of Idunna's grasp. “You're squeezing too tight, Aunt Idunna.”
“Sorry, boy.” She clenched her fists, her gaze riveted on Eoghann. “Can you help him, Ealasaid?”
Her husband's face was ashen gray, the color of a man whose life was ebbing away.
“I have to see the damage.” Ealasaid pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “Hella?”
Erik rose from the stool he occupied. Two twists of rags hung from either side of his swollen, bruised nose. “That's no sword wound.”
Hella's expression was grim. “A bowman fired from a rooftop. Eoghann pushed me out of the way. There are men in pursuit of the one who holds the bow.”
Ealasaid met her gaze. “You know I'll do my best, Idunna.” She stepped aside. “Bring him in. Do not tarry. Time matters. Send someone to find Ulrika. I need her assistance. Put him on the table, on his side so I can see if the arrow went through.”
Ealasaid wasted no time tearing his jerkin away from the wound. Soaked with crimson, the blue material that had matched his eyes glistened as it drooped around his midriff. She wiped blood away with a damp rag. “I can remove it the same way it went in. No need to push it through. Idunna, I need comfrey to put on it immediately after I pull the arrow out. The herb will stop the bleeding.” She gripped the shaft. “This will be bad, brother.”
The great shaft trembled with every breath Eoghann took. “Pain is part of living.”
Her words, echoed from their first night together. Idunna drew in a breath and forced a smile. “My brave husband. The comfrey will help and then something for the pain. No one in Solstad is better with herbs than your sister. I'll set to work steeping the comfrey.”
Her hands shook as she retrieved the dried herbs. Water boiled over the fire in the center of the room and the crisp scent of herbs covered the stench of blood. The work helped settle her nerves.00
Eoghann hissed again as Ealasaid dabbed at the blood. “Christo, woman.”
Idunna smoothed hair away from her forehead. “Don't fight her. Ealasaid has treated much worse than this.” She stirred the boiling pot. “This will only be a bit longer.”
It should have steeped an hour or two, but Ealasaid met her gaze and nodded. The more time they waited, the weaker Eoghann seemed. Idunna strained the leaves from the water into a clean wooden bowl. She blew steam from them, hoping to cool the herbs before they applied them to the wound.
Eoghann reached for her hand when she returned to his side. He squeezed so tight, her fingers popped, but she didn't begrudge him the right.
“Hold him down while I remove it.” Ealasaid flexed her fingers around the shaft. “I am sorry, Eoghann, for this.”
The curse that spilled from Eoghann's mouth wasn't fit for a woman's ears. He strained against Hella and Bjorn's holds, but they kept him pinned to the oak table. Dark blood ran freely from the wound as Ealasaid pulled the arrow out little by little. With a wet squelch, it slid from his flesh, then clattered to the floor.
Ulrika pushed through the door. “What do you need, my lady?” The old thrall grimaced at the scene. Her wrinkles deepened as she stared at Eoghann. She shifted her gaze to Hella. “You know whose fletch that is.”
Hella nodded. His eyes were dark, his expression stormy. “Jarl Ofbradh's. A less than subtle attempt on my life.”
Ealasaid pressed a folded cloth to Eoghann's wound. Her eyes rounded. “Why would he try to kill you?”
Hella shrugged. “We'll learn the reason when we catch the marksman. Do you require further help from me?”
“No, with Ulrika here, I can manage what must be done.”
“And Idunna?” Hella placed his blood stained hand on her shoulder.
She wanted to throw off his hand, but allowed it to rest where it landed. “I'll stay. I don't wish to leave him.”
“Someone needs to care for Fulla,” Ealasaid said. “Ulrika must stay to help me.”
“I can't—I will not leave him, my lady.” She bowed her head, but kept her gaze on her husband. “Please.”
Eoghann squeezed her hand. “Go. Safer near the dining hall where the others are.”
“But—”
“Then make yourself useful. I'll need the dried yarrow. Steep it with agrimony and marigold too. Bandages. Ulrika, a bit of nightshade to help him sleep. There's no need for him to suffer through my tending.” Ealasaid smiled, though it was weak. “There will be a hero's welcome for you when you wake again, Eoghann.”
“No. I need one favor from Hella.” He turned his head toward Hella and reached for the king. “Keep Idunna safe. Protect her as I would.”
“You have my word, brother.” Hella clasped Eoghann's wrist. The king's knuckles turned white under the force of his grip. “No harm will befall Idunna as long as I watch.”
Touched by Hella's gesture, Idunna forced back tears. Such a show of emotion wouldn't help her husband.
Hella motioned at Erik and Bjorn, then took silent, pale Birgir by the shoulder.
Part of her hoped the marksman was already dead. Another part demanded to know why he
'd come. The name Ofbradh wasn't familiar. What could he have against Hella?
She fumbled with the jars of healing herbs, grateful when Ulrika came to help.
“Here now, give him tincture of nightshade in wine first. Just two drops to make him sleep. He needs rest to heal while Ealasaid cleans the wound.” Ulrika mixed the liquids, then passed them to Idunna.
She'd done the same for the many men wounded at Freysteinn, but her hands shook as she held the cup to Eoghann's lips. He offered no resistance. Perhaps he desired the swift release of sleep—or hoped for something more permanent without the suffering putrefaction brought.
“Ulrika and Ealasaid are good with herbs. Such a small wound is easily treated and you will return to your workshop in little time.” She twined her fingers through his. “To our bed where I will tend you in more intimate ways.”
“A delightful prospect. One I hope to attend, but...” His eyes were glassy as the beads on Ealasaid's necklace that clacked while she mixed the poultice. “Another will desire you. A proper vikingr. One of your own. Give you the many sons and daughters you hope for.”
His gasping words hurt like a blow. “I didn't save you from the noose to watch you die with the pull of a bowstring. I do not accept that, Eoghann.”
But he was asleep, carried away by pain and the drowsing effects of nightshade tincture.
“If you hope he'll live, send your prayers to Eir.” Ulrika's wisened face creased. “And you best hope Eoghann finds good reason to refuse Valhalla should Valkyries come calling.”
“Ulrika, stop.” Ealasaid packed the wound with herbal plaster. “He is of good stock. Kentigerns don't die easily.”
The thrall nodded. “I will attest to that. He's a strong lad with every reason to live. Any man with such a sweet woman to warm his bed would fight to return to her. When you finish the packing, you should join Hella. He'll give Erik all kinds of permission to torture information out of the bowman. You should be there to keep them from killing him, least till we've learned all his secrets.”
“A wise thought. Eoghann may have been an enemy, may have slain Norsemen, but what he did for Hella will stand as testament to his loyalty. He is a good man, my brother.” Ealasaid pressed the last of the poultice around the wound. “Death is no less than the intruder deserves, but I will try to intervene for the time being. Dress the outer edges with comfrey, Ulrika. For now, it's best to let him sleep. There's little more we can do but wait for him to heal.”
Her Heart's Desire Page 4
