by Sandra Lake
“Perhaps Lothair had good reason to fear an icy winter crossing. Especially after you had been so ill recently. You did wed him, Katia. I am not taking sides, but I want the best for your marriage.”
Katia flopped her head back, smacking it against the wood backing of the chair. “But he always said he never wanted a wife and he always calls me a little chit when I cry and he never says nice things to me.” She moaned pathetically.
“He cares deeply for you and you clearly have feelings for him. It will take time to work out your differences, but he is a good man.”
“Mama! Stop sticking up for him. He will never love me and will most likely go off to war the first chance he gets and leave me like he is leaving me now.” To make her point, she pointed out the window to the assembly of men waiting to depart on the hunting trip.
“Katia, I will not say a cross word against Lothair because when you finally figure out how to properly speak to one another, you are going to be very much in love and very happy. Then all you will remember is that your mother said something terrible about your sainted husband and you will be cross at me for years.”
“I would never.” Katia crossed her arms.
“Yes, you will. Your grandma once said some very true but very harsh words against your father, Urho. It took me ten years to forgive her. And she was absolutely correct in her warning to me. Lothair brought my babe home to me safe and in one piece. I will always be at his service.”
“Oh, Mother. If Lothair is so great, why don’t you marry him?” Katia stomped out of the chamber and down the hall to her own room, smashed the door open, and flopped down on her bed.
“There you are.” Lothair entered the room, closed the door, and came over to her. “I’m leaving for the hunt immediately,” he said. She moved off the bed and stood before him.
“Have a—”
He swept his arms around her waist, raising her to his level, and kissed her hard. Her toes curled and she locked her legs around his waist. He grabbed hold of her bottom and hoisted her up higher, staggered a few steps forward, and crashed down on the bed on top of her. He clawed at her skirt as she yanked at his belt, all the while never breaking their kiss.
Katia thought she heard a smothered sneeze, but she ignored it and carried on her mission to free Lothair from his trousers. Lothair pushed up her skirt but then froze suddenly. Abruptly, he pushed off the bed and dropped down to the floor.
“Can I help you lads with anything?” Lothair asked.
“Who’s there?” Katia gasped and sat up. “Aron, Ansgar, you little toads.”
“All right you two, show is over.” He swatted at them both lightly and chuckled as they fled for the door. He closed and bolted the door after them, turning his attention back to Katia, his humor fading quickly.
Still standing across the chamber from her, Lothair dropped his belt to the floor and unlaced his trousers. She wiggled out of her own garments and he strode across the room. He picked her up and entered her a moment later. She never knew that you could make love standing up, and now that she did, she believed she did not want it any other way. She clenched around him, clinging to his shoulders, her muscles screaming, her mouth latched to his neck as she cried out her climax soon after. With one hand on her bottom and one hand on her back, he held her weight, lifting her up and down, plunging into her deeper and deeper, again and again.
Outside this chamber they fought like cats and dogs. Inside this chamber, they were united in purpose, matched in passion, and exchanged only looks of adoration and acceptance. When Lothair released deep inside her, she whimpered gently. He crushed her tight to his body. She prayed that he would never let her go.
Bang, bang, bang. “Lothair, we’re all waiting for you,” her brother Hök called through the door.
He searched her eyes, looking like he didn’t know how to express himself.
“Have a pleasant time killing small furry creatures,” she whispered.
“Do not get into any trouble while I am gone,” he said against her lips. “I will be back. Soon,” he whispered against her ear, kissing and biting at the lobe. They dressed quickly, and he kissed her lips once more before unbolting the door. The twins stood at the ready, with queer expressions on their faces.
“Far said to hurry up,” Hök said and Lothair nodded, reaching for his hunting knife.
***
“I am sorry, Lothair.” She spoke softly. “I never apologized for leaving you. For not . . . you are my husband and . . . I should not have left,” she said sincerely. He thought that his heart would burst. She called him her husband, at last accepting her role as his wife.
“No, you shouldn’t have.” He marched straight back, scooped her up in his arms, and kissed her again, fiercely at first, and then more tenderly. Katia started to giggle.
“I like it when you do that,” he groaned in her ear as he kissed her neck one last time.
“Do what?”
“Smile at me like that.”
“I think you once told me I smile too much.”
“No, I said I don’t like the fake smiles. The real ones . . .” He kissed her again to explain what words could not. “Come see me off. It is the wifely thing to do, I think.”
In the yard, the men were waiting for him with arched brows, shaking their heads, fully aware of what had delayed Lothair’s departure. Nothing slowed down a hunting party more than a smiling young wife.
***
After two days spent on the hunt, Lothair had collected a few dozen white ermine pelts, out of which he hoped to make a cloak for Katia. He had to admit he was enjoying himself, but when one of her brothers, Stål, came down with a winter gripe, Lothair volunteered to take him back to Tronscar. The older men taunted him, saying he was far too eager to return to his wife. All but Jarl Magnus, that is. He simply scowled.
On the short ride back to Tronscar, Lothair spoke at length with Stål. The lad was bright and quick to offer up a joke or funny tale. His stories of Katia were almost always the same: they all worshipped her. They tormented her continually only to gain her notice and attention.
Katia ran to them from across the yard moments after the outer gates had opened. “What’s wrong?” she demanded at the sight of Stål riding behind Lothair, slumped against Lothair’s back.
“Nothing more than a winter gripe, your father expects.” A guard helped Stål down from the saddle and the boy sprung up like nothing was wrong—much like his sister did when she was ill, Lothair observed.
“I’m fine, Kat. Just need a hot drink and I will be back out with the hunt,” the young lad said drowsily.
“Nice try. Tero’s got the tonic for what allies you.” His wife smoothed the boy’s brow as Lida rushed out of the upper gates to meet them. The family fussed over the lad and saw him straight to bed.
***
An hour later, Lothair was lounging in the cedar and stone hut, enjoying a cleansing steam. Letting the dry heat sink under the layers of cold, he felt years of strain melting away, tightness that he’d carried around for most of his life, the tension of living in his father’s shadow, living a life of lies.
There was something shifting in him. He felt it more every day. Being around a loud, loving, large family was soothing and eye opening. He let his mind wander to the possibility that this comfort and contentment could become his life every day.
This shift in him, the lightening of his heart, had everything to do with being around Katia, from feeling the silent, reassuring connection with someone that he knew accepted him, his faults, lies, secrets, and all. And the lovemaking wasn’t hurting his soul either.
“What are you thinking about that has put such a smile on your face?”
He opened his eyes to see Katia standing at the entry, smiling gently, wrapped in nothing more than a small drying cloth.
Lothair reached out and pulled his wife
to him. “Hello, Baroness Blienskastel,” he said playfully, biting her delicate ear, relishing the feeling of her squirming on his lap. She twisted in his arms and kissed him, hard, pulling away the cloth draped around her.
He made love to his wife twice in the sauna. The first time was almost combative, both of them slippery with sweat as they fought for control, both rushing toward a quick indulgent release. With the urgency between them quieted, they rinsed off with cold water and came together again. This time, their joining was slower and lazy, tender.
After, she retrieved a handful of silver birch branches and soaked the leaves. She kneeled behind him on the bench and lightly slapped his back with the softened leaves, attending to every muscle on his body. The crisp, clean scent of the birch purifying his skin and lungs and the oil released from the leaves soothed his fatigued joints, right down to his most fatigued muscle, his pessimistic heart. Her touch was rousing, but in a wholly new way—a wifely way.
He didn’t want to leave the sauna, though the hour had grown very late and Katia’s stomach kept growling. They had probably missed the serving of the evening meal. Wrapped in dressing robes, they headed back inside, slipping up the rear stairs to avoid the main hall.
“Thank you for taking such good care of Stål,” she said as they ascended the stairs arm in arm. “He is very fond of you.”
“And you?” he asked, dropping his head down to nip at her ear.
“And I what?” she giggled. She had forgotten what they were discussing.
“Are you fond of me?”
“Fond of you? Lothair, you should have guessed that much by now. You’re the greatest man I’ve ever met.” She blushed. “When I met you all those years ago, how you treated me in the sparing ring—you were confident, but still humble and accepting. I thought you could walk on water itself. Why in heaven’s name did you think I pounced on you in the stable?”
“I pounced on you,” he corrected.
“You most certainly did not. I threw myself into your arms like a sack of wheat. You were the most . . . most everything that I had ever seen.” She smiled and he crushed his lips to hers. A chorus of snickering soon followed. Lothair turned to face their audience.
“In your opinion, did I kiss her or did she kiss me?” he asked. The three little boys scratched their heads.
“She kissed you,” Zander said, and winked at his sister. Clearly Katia had Zander in her pocket.
“You’re bigger, you kissed her.” Ansgar pointed clearly at Katia. Lothair turned to Katia smugly.
“Aron?” She wasn’t giving in.
“She . . . you . . . kissing is gross.” Aron turned tail and ran back to his chamber, his brothers in hot pursuit.
Laughing, Lothair swept her up in his arms and strode with confidence down the long corridor to her chamber.
***
Katia lay in bed late one morning, curled into Lothair’s warm side. Something felt wrong, she could feel it in her gut, but she had no idea as to the source of the feeling.
Three cold and dark winter months had seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Katia now wore a new ermine fur cloak—a gift from her husband—her father no longer grunted with annoyance every time Lothair entered a room, and her tribe of brothers had less time to torment her because of all the new games that Lothair was continually introducing them to. Katia had even, on occasion, found herself jealous of all the time he spent with the boys. With each passing day, Katia realized that she and Lothair talked more and argued less.
They spent time each day locked away in their chamber or the sauna, and took long, private strolls in the surrounding forest. It was the most enjoyable winter Katia had ever passed. But then why did she have a darkening gloom creeping up from her belly? It was as if she had forgotten something dreadfully important.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she stretched and shifted in bed. The something she was worried about had distilled itself into a sound. She sat up in bed. It was a smell, too. She flicked the sheet off her legs and slipped out of bed. As she crept toward the covered window, the sounds grew louder. She stood naked by the window, holding the fur-lined curtain open.
“Katia!” Lothair called out sleepily from bed.
“Lothair, listen,” she said with growing distress. “Can you hear that? The snow is melting off the roof. It is spring.”
Chapter 23
“Why can I not—” Katia started to ask.
“No,” her far and her husband both growled in unison across the long table.
“But—” she thought to try again.
“You are here to listen as a courtesy, Kat. Don’t make your father regret it.” Lothair squeezed her knee under the table. “Remember when you bragged to me about how superior your father’s men were to Saxony swordsmen? Let them have a chance to make your case.” He kissed her temple and she flopped back in her chair, scowling at both her father and her husband. They were now on the same side, working together to control her, and she was getting more than just a little sick of it.
“I beg your pardon, my jarl.” Gilla, the new housekeeper, nervously approached the head table. The family had been taking a light midday meal together when Katia had tried to bring up the subject of Korski and what aid plans were to take place when the ice flows melted, clearing the channels to the sea.
“What can I help you with, Gilla?” Magnus said.
“Friherrinna Lida is being asked for at the gate, my jarl. A woman, by the name of Veronchka—”
Katia jumped to her feet and sprinted out of the keep, without waiting for anyone to join her. Veronchka was Urho’s half sister; at long last, news from her brother.
Out of breath, Katia arrived at the gate a few moments later. “Silho, please open the gate.”
“Mistress Katia, I—” Silho began.
“Do it now, Silho! She is my sister.” Katia knew it could not be good that Veronchka had come alone. The guard bowed and backed away, giving the signal for the large chains to be pulled, freeing the thick iron bars and unlocking the steel-plated door. It took several minutes, and by the time the door opened enough for a person to squeeze through, Lothair and her father had joined her.
“Veronchka!” Katia threw her arms around the young woman’s neck. Veronchka was not truthfully a sister by blood. Urho had five half sisters by way of his mother. It was another strange characteristic that Katia had in common with Urho—whereas Katia was the oldest in her family and saddled with five younger brothers, Urho was the eldest of his mother’s children and had five younger sisters.
“Come inside, you look frozen straight through.” Katia wrapped her arm around the Veronchka’s soggy cloak and started to rush her quickly back to the hall. Veronchka’s lips were nearly blue. The news from Urho would have to wait.
“Katia,” Veronchka said hoarsely. “Praise God you’re alive. We were told you were missing—”
“’Twas a misunderstanding. You are safe now, Veronchka.” Katia searched for Gilla and signaled her to come as they entered the main hall. “Have a bath sent up to one of the guest chambers, and some hot stew,” she instructed the housekeeper.
She grabbed up her chalice of wine from the table and placed it in Veronchka’s quivering hand. “Drink, the wine will warm you and help you to calm.” Katia bit her tongue, holding back her desire to hear any news of Urho.
Magnus and Lothair hovered nearby, eager yet understanding the need for the girl to settle before information could be demanded.
“Veronchka, how is it possible you arrived here?” Katia refilled her cup of wine.
“I escaped three nights ago, in a storm. Urho had dug a hole under the boards of our cell, and he pushed me and my sister Alma under.” Tears began to stream down her dirty face. “He told us to run for our lives, to take the small boats that were hidden up the coast.” She started to cry harder. “We made it slowly up the fjord, but then I d
o not know what happened, the boat tipped and . . . and she drowned.” She clasped her hand over her mouth. “Alma . . .”
Katia could hear not another word. Alma could not have been more than seventeen. She held Veronchka closer and the woman rocked back and forth, weeping in her arms.
“Urho and your mother will be so grateful that you were brave and made your way free. Shh, Veronchka, it will be well. My far and his men will rescue your sisters and mother, I promise.” She rubbed the girl’s back and wiped her own tears with her sleeve.
“There is more I must tell you, that the jarl must hear. There is little time,” Veronchka sobbed.
***
Veronchka pulled back from Urho’s pampered sister and looked down at her hands. The Jarl of Tronscar was an intimidating man, and if she was going to successfully lie to him, she would need to take care not to look directly at him. “Urho is to be executed. The Slavic commander says he will leave no prisoners, only willing slaves will be spared.” She let her tears flow, knowing they would aid her overall cause.
“Far! We must go now!” Katia pulled away from her and rushed toward Jarl Magnus, who was standing at the hearth. “Lothair! Please, if Veronchka’s small boat could make it across, so can we. Oh, Far, we must leave tonight, while there is still time.”
Katia pulled at the arm of tall warrior standing next to the jarl. He must be someone she was attached to romantically. Veronchka never thought Katia the type of woman to seek the attentions of a man.
“The people of Korski are near dead from starvation.” She added a few whimpers at the end for good measure.
“It is a miracle that you have survived.” Katia returned to her side and helped her stand. “Gilla will see you above stairs. I will speak but another moment with my father and husband and then I will be sure to come attend you.”
“You are wed?” she asked.
“Aye, this is Lothair,” Katia said, smiling with glib satisfaction. “I promise we will not stop until we have reunited you with your family.” A maid led Veronchka to the stairs and she looked back to see Katia arguing, standing with her arms crossed before the jarl and her husband.
