by Sandra Lake
“Far!” Katia, clutched the fur cloak tight around her throat. Magnus moved toward her instantly. She was pale and shaking, yet she spoke and every word from her was a blessing, reminding him that she lived.
“War, more men dying, is too high a price,” she said in a small voice, teeth chattering. “Andrei had me beaten. He was—he was about to—” Unable to take it any longer, Lothair shushed her, picked her up, and made a direct path to Magnus’ ship.
Magnus followed close behind.
“Oh, Lothair, why do you keep bothering to save me?” Katia wept. She looked back to Magnus.
“Far, do not break the peace because of me. If they beat me for my own stupidity, I deserve no better. Please, Far, no wars over me,” she pled.
Magnus growled in frustration. It was clear that he could not deny the request of his blood-smeared daughter.
Lothair looked to the heavens, grinding his teeth, not wanting to grant her this request, but much like Magnus, he was powerless to deny her anything while she was so broken and battered. Lothair placed Katia in Magnus’ arms and marched, blade in hand, in a direct path for Andrei, who now cowered at Rikard’s feet. Ambjorn stepped in front of him but was yanked out of the way by Magnus’ men.
Lothair slugged the prince in the face with his gloved fist. Andrei tumbled backwards and splayed out on his back on the grass, spitting teeth and blood from his mouth.
“Where is it? Where is her ring?” Lothair jerked him up by the collar. Without waiting for an answer, Lothair began tearing at Andrei’s garments. Eventually, he came up with a gold chain—from it dangled the Knutson family ring.
One final kick to the princes’ gut and the young baron was finished with Andrei, for now. He swiftly made his way back to his wife and father-in-law.
“Take her to her mother, Lothair,” Magnus commanded. Lothair nodded, picked her up tenderly, and carried her onto his ship.
Magnus looked out over the gulf, endeavoring to rein in his unsatisfied wrath. The winds were high and in their favor. If he placed a hundred men at the oars, Magnus could have the warship back to Tronscar before the sky released its final rays of light. The thought brought him a measure of composure.
“Ambjorn, you will take the prince to the agreed-upon tribunal in Lubeck, but I will have satisfaction. He must be made to pay,” Magnus said.
“I swear he will pay, Magnus. See to your family. I will remain and oversee the securing of the prisoners. The sooner they are out of Norrland waters, the sooner you will relax, cousin.” He slapped Magnus on the shoulder and Magnus jerked away.
He stormed over in the direction of Rikard and his men. “When Chief Urho has sorted out his people, ask him to come to me. Katia will not rest until she has seen with her own eyes that her brother is well. Aleksi, I ask you stay behind and give assistance to the young chief.”
“Aye, jarl,” Aleksi and Rikard said together, a hard look etched on both their faces.
The longship pushed off from the docks at Korski a few moments later. Magnus oversaw the oarsmen at work and kept a watchful eye on the bow. A healer was bent over the pallets of furs with Tero as they soothed and spoke to Katia. Lothair hovered above her, distraught.
Magnus sighed. “Oh, daughter, what have you done?”
***
The sky remained clear, the air crisp. The healer spoke to Tero quietly, telling him that Katia’s ribs were bruised, not broken, and her belly was rigid, yet the bleeding was lessening.
“Katia,” Lothair whispered in her ear. “Take what Tero has offered you for the pain.” He stroked her hair, trying to coax her to turn her head and look at him.
Silently, Katia was willing Lothair to go away and leave her. She did not deserve his touch, his soft, kind words.
“Katia! I said take the tonic!” Lothair said, less soothingly now, not that she blamed him. She deserved no better. She locked her limbs in place and refused herself the respite of the sleeping tonic, or the comfort of the soothing words.
She sentenced herself to pain.
“Damn you, Kat.” Lothair sat behind her, wrapping her between his arms and legs. He took her head and pushed it gently back to rest against his shoulder. “I know you can hear me, and I know you can speak. Stop being a child and take the tonic. Every part of you is black and blue.” He forced the tonic to her lips and pushed them open with the rim of the cup. “Stubborn little chit, drink!” Eventually, some of the liquid spilled down her throat, but she kept her eyes closed.
She finished the bitter draft and turned her face back into the fur covering. She would not allow herself to cry. She had no right to cry. She was a stupid chit that has never done anything of purpose or value.
***
Lothair couldn’t release her from his arms, even after the tonic took effect, mercifully taking her under into a more peaceful rest. He felt her muscles relax and her breathing even out.
“Will it work?” he asked the healer.
“She had lost much blood, but it slows,” the old man said. “She has lost the babe, my lord, but she is young. She will soon carry another.” He placed his hand on Lothair’s shoulder and squeezed in a fatherly gesture.
“Babe,” Lothair repeated dumbly. His lips felt numb.
“Aye, she is strong, this one,” the healer said. “She will heal and bear you many more sons. Fear not.” He left Lothair alone.
She had been with child—charged headfirst into battle to save her cursed half brother, offering up her life and the life of their child without . . .
He cursed bitterly into the wind. The realization that Katia would never change tore a hole in his chest. He tried to breathe.
Katia would live. She was strong, as the old healer said—but for how long, another month, another year? How many more times would she run from him? They had traveled thousands of miles, fought and slept side by side, and still he realized it would never be enough . . . he would never be enough for her.
She would never trust him, never rely on him, never turn to him, Lothair realized. That was the cold, hard truth of loving Katia: Lothair would never be able to keep her safe.
Gazing down at her, he whispered, “I can’t stand beside you and watch you throw your life away again. I won’t. My failure to earn your trust has enabled you to continue in your recklessness.” A tear ran down his face. “May God forgive me.”
Lothair was decided. He must yield his claim to the iron princess, and leave her where she had the best chance of survival: Norrland.
Chapter 26
Lothair hesitated before setting the marriage contract down on the table in Magnus’s study.
“You have the authority and grounds to sue the church for an annulment based on the fraudulent manner in which I obtained your daughter’s signature.” Lothair stood in front of the jarl.
Magnus picked up the documents and examined them. “You do not bother to seek my approval in entering into an arrangement with my daughter, yet you seek my assistance in ending it.” He tossed the document back.
Lothair kept his voice even and respectful. “I depart for Lubeck. Your wife informs me Katia’s life is no longer in any danger.” He swallowed painfully hard. “Katia refuses to see me, even speak to me. She has made her desire to be free of this contract clear to you in the past.”
The jarl sighed loudly, leaned back in his chair, and laced his fingers together, inspecting his son-in-law. “Lothair, sit.”
Lothair sat.
“Katia needs time. Her mother has informed me she took the loss of the babe very hard. She will be in mourning for a considerable amount of time, and when she emerges, she will want another babe. I understand your impatience, my son, but give her more time,” Magnus said.
Lothair struggled to form words against the strain of so many emotions.
Lothair stood up. This conversation was only postponing the inevitable. “
I have tried to keep her safe and I have failed—several times. I cannot stay here and wait for her to run headlong into the next battle. Perhaps if she were to find a husband that she respected more, she would be better off. I thank you for your hospitality, Magnus.” Lothair thrust out his hand.
Magnus accepted the hand. “Her character was formed before you wed. You are not at fault.”
Lothair looked down. “If I may ever be of assistance to you or your family, Jarl Magnus, I offer you my continuing support and alliance.” Lothair turned and walked out the door without looking back.
***
“It is for the best.” Katia pressed her face into her pillow.
Her grandmother sat down on the bed and rubbed her shoulders. “My love, do not lie to your linens. In one’s own bed, a woman should be truthful in all things.”
“Grandma, I want to sleep. Please . . .” Katia sniffled. “I will be well enough to come downstairs tomorrow.”
It had been seven days since Lothair had left. Fourteen days since he’d last held her, and sixteen days since he’d last made love to her. She had just cause to weep bitterly.
“Oh, my love. Even if I could remove this pain from you, I would not,” her grandmother said.
“What!” Katia flipped over.
“Socrates said, ‘True wisdom comes to each of us when we realize how little we understand about life, ourselves, and the world around us.’ See, if I removed this pain and mended your broken heart, you would learn nothing and need to start all over again.”
“I must be the wisest woman in the world then.” Katia flopped back on her bed and groaned with the residual pain from her rib cage. She deserved that.
“My love, in your hour of pain and sorrow, you will not truly hear these words, but later I hope that they will root in your heart.”
“Grandmother, perhaps you should go spend time with the boys. Do not waste more of your wisdom on me. I break everything and everyone that I have ever loved. Leave me, please.”
“Pathei mathos, my love. Suffer and learn. If you never open your heart to anyone or anything, you will be safe from both. But if you have loved just one person in your life, you must expect to suffer. They come hand in hand.”
“Then I have made the right choice. I will stay in this chamber for the rest of my life and love no one more and hurt no one more.”
“Courage, my love. Take your rest, nurse your wounded heart, and dive into life again when you are ready.”
Katia wiped her eyes dry with her sleeve. “Oh, Grandmother, I have ruined everything. I embarrass my family at every turn, I risk my friends . . . I did not protect Lothair’s babe. What must he think of me?” Another storm of tears beset her.
“Sweet girl. That is a sorrow that will never wane.”
“I did not know—I was not paying any attention. I missed my courses, was sick in the morn, but still I did not pay attention. Lothair will never forgive me and nor should he. I lied to the man that had given up everything to protect me. I have done nothing but bring misery to the man I love.”
Her grandmother wrapped Katia in her arms. “If he left you after you had told him all this, oh my love, perhaps the man is not worthy of you after all.”
Katia pulled away. “It is I who am unworthy. Lothair would never have left if I had not pushed him away. I did not want him to be stuck with me one moment longer.”
Her grandmother pulled back. “You mean you never told him how you felt? That you felt unworthy, that you loved him?”
Katia looked down, ashamed. “I could not look at him after how he found me. I was so ashamed.”
“Well, get over it.”
Katia gasped. “Grandmother!”
“That was the best advice I ever received in my life.” Her grandmother released a haughty sigh. “I believe it is time you hear the story of how your grandfather and I were wed. He was my mother’s guard. Did you know that? My mother was very selective about such things. I had teased Heliki for years, but deep down I was always in love with him. I knew we could never be together, so I chose to torment him with flirtatious glances instead of treating him with any respect.”
Katia could not believe her ears.
“The night my father and brother were slain, my murderous cousin kidnapped me and held me captive for three weeks. He defiled me, cut my hair, and stripped me to rags. Your grandfather rescued me and I—” She clasped her wrinkled, shaking hand to her breast, reliving the memory. Katia wrapped her arm around her grandmother’s shoulder.
“When your grandfather found me, I wanted to die. Such a handsome face, such pained eyes staring at me. I felt humiliated, ashamed, less than worthless. I was to blame, you see—I let my cousin into my chamber even though I knew I shouldn’t—I thought I knew better than my sister. I ignored my inner voice and listened to the flattering words of a snake. I am still haunted by my actions that night . . .” Her words trailed off and she looked out the window for a long, silent moment.
“My mother assigned her guard to escort me away, to hide my pregnancy. Your grandfather offered to wed me and I refused, saying that I would not have him, but really, it was because I felt worthless and ruined. I had resigned to birth your uncle—the babe was innocent, of course—and then I decided I would politely and promptly die. That’s when your grandfather told me to ‘get over it.’ I think his exact words were ‘get your head out of your pretty, padded backside and get on with living.’ For the first years of our marriage, he loved me enough for the both of us, until I got over myself and started living with my head held high again.” Katia’s grandmother took in a deep breath.
“If you love this Lothair fellow, and if he is as handsome and dashing as your mother says he is, then you really will be a chit for letting him go.”
Katia sat up in bed. In two minutes her entire understanding of her grandmother had turned on its head. “But . . . he doesn’t want me anymore. He left.”
“Go get him back.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Of course it is. If you won his devotion once, you can do it again. Let your heart be your guide on this one. Nothing risked, nothing gained. He sounds to me like the type to be worthy of a great deal of risk.”
Katia’s heart hammered against her hollow chest. She had not eaten in days. She looked down at her rail-thin figure. What man wanted to take a rail to bed? She’d pierce him with her protruding hipbones.
She flicked back the bedsheet and strode across the chamber to the tray her grandmother had brought up. She snatched up a leg of roasted chicken and tore into it.
Chapter 27
Sweat collected in the center of his back. Lothair yanked off his shirt and tossed it to the ground. The next competitor entered the sparring ring, ducking boldly under the rail, the crowd of farmers and field hands jeering their wholehearted approval. Watching their master take a thrashing in a wrestling match was cheap quality entertainment.
Lothair tackled the lumber hauler around the middle and managed to tip him off his feet and onto the wood-chipped ground. The man struggled back up and the match continued on for a few more rounds until Lars stepped into the ring to ruin it.
“You’re a mess, man. Go home and sober up. And next time we’ll let you finish what you started.” Lars shoved Lothair toward their horses. Fist and Valen stood with their arms crossed. Lars was no fun at all since wedding that little taskmaster. Tosha was a fine girl until she started sticking her nose into Lothair’s business.
“Taking orders from your little general, are you now, Lars?” Lothair smeared blood from his nose across his bare arm.
“Be angry with me today if that makes you feel better, but I will not stand aside while you take on matches you know you’ll lose just because you’re in the mood for a beating.” Lars looked pointedly at the other men, and grabbed Lothair’s arms at the same moment as Valen and Fist grabbed
his legs. Together, with one strong swing, they launched him into the channel.
“You rump-fed traitors. Get off my land!” he shouted when he resurfaced. The cold water washed away the remainder of the drunken fog from the night before.
“Tosh is having a friend come feast with us the day after tomorrow. I will be expecting you, Lothair. Don’t make me come around to fetch you like an errant child.” With that, Lars and his two sidekicks strode off.
Lothair dragged himself up the bank and collapsed in the soft meadow grass. The hot summer sun beat down upon his face, punishingly cheerful.
Hanseatz never smelled or looked grander than it did in the height of summer—meadows of strawberries and wildflowers, lambs and foals kicking up their heels in the fields. Katia never saw what this place could be, adding that to his growing list of regrets.
Leaving Tronscar without her was his greatest regret. He should have given her more time to heal. He had allowed his own grief-stricken heart to blind him from seeing hers.
The remembrances of their journey last autumn, the closeness of their bodies each night in the tents, and the countless missed opportunities to make love to her on that trip haunted Lothair. Guarding her virtue had been his top priority at the time, and for what? Perhaps she wanted a man who was not afraid to take what he wanted, a man who would put concerns for her father’s title aside and ravish her soundly. Oh, what he would not give to ravish her soundly, toss her down in this very meadow.
Lothair closed his eyes and let the futile dream of her being here continue to unfold in his mind’s eye. She was lying on the riverbank next to him; he’d shift and lie over her. Tangled gold strands of her hair would catch in the grass, and her warm, soft limbs would embrace him, her playful exuberance for life bubbling out of her in an easy laugh. His hand splayed out to touch her, and finding nothing, his fingers curled into a fist, tearing a hunk of dry grass out by the root.
To heighten his tormented state, an image of his child formed in his mind, a smaller version of Katia. She’d be perfect, perhaps with Margery’s strawberry blond tones to her hair. A pretty, spirited, miniature Katia that Lothair could keep always, hold, protect, and cherish. The dream of her, the dream of them and what could have been but never was . . . could it have ever been real?
