Torn Avenger

by Lea Bronsen

  “So you can’t tell?”

  “Only time will tell.” Gorm scrambled to his feet, stuck the needle into the swaying candle flame, and pulled it out. The sharp, sooted tip glowed. “Now, let’s sew that cheek.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  In the early morning before most of the villagers had awoken, Alv left his house to get fresh water. A chilly breeze blew from the shore smelling of salt. The endlessly moving ocean reflected dark gray clouds above that obstructed sunlight. At least, it didn’t rain.

  Roeland was still asleep. Alv didn’t like leaving him alone, but had no choice. Hedin, who should be the one fetching water, hadn’t reappeared.

  Alv winced as he trudged on an earth path toward the edge of Eðni, where a stream came from the nearest mountain. His head ached from too little sleep and, surely, too much worry. Roeland hadn’t been sick during the night, but his heartrate remained too high.

  After passing longhouses and barns, he approached the village outskirts, a strip of farmland bordering to a dense forest, behind which rose a glistening gray-black mountain. Morning birds sang happy tunes. A charming mix of scents teased his nostrils—hay, pine needle, wet moss, raspberries… He drew in a lungful of air.

  “Alv!” a familiar voice called. Mother.

  Not now…

  He stopped in his tracks and braced for her usual berating.

  Footfalls tapped the hard soil behind him. Only when she reached his side, did he drop the bucket and turn to face her.

  She scowled, chin in the air, her opulent chest heaving so the brooches danced on her expensive silk. “I hear you’re playing nurse with my son’s killer, instead of working on being elected jarl!”

  He sighed. “Good morning, Mother.”

  Her lips pursed.

  “So,” he asked, “you’ve heard about last night’s poisoning?”

  She ignored him. “Listen. Torsten is a favorite, since he was your father’s brother-in-arms and he’s an established, highly-respected warrior. He has also acquired much praise for the way he tracked down the murderer.”

  Alv groaned inwardly. He wasn’t in the mood for a lecturing. “Mother, please.”

  “Whereas you are not considered a fearless warrior like he, nor a great leader, or a particularly charismatic person. I cannot stress how important it is that you work hard to win your father’s position.”

  Alv looked down. Maybe if he didn’t reply, she would relent. Or choose a better time to speak about these annoying things. He had enough on his plate, with Roeland’s wild heartrate being the biggest issue.

  In his side vision, she crossed her arms. “Have you thought any more about the marriage?”

  Such a change of subject. He looked up again, a brow raised. “The marriage?”

  “Yes, to Elke. You have to protect her and provide a good life for her. Your brother’s child will be yours.”

  He stared. Sometimes, Mother was just too much. He didn’t know how to deal with her, or simply make her shut her mouth.

  She held his look. “Think about it. Joar was your father’s heir, and since he’s dead, his child is the natural heir. As that child’s father, you will keep your high position in the community.” She lifted her brows pointedly.

  He noted her use of keep—the contrary of lose—and he heard her unspoken otherwise. She was warning him that otherwise, he would become a nobody. Despite having vowed to kill Joar’s assassin, he didn’t. He’d been considered a weakling before the events, and now, he had confirmed the villagers’ sentiment. He would never be elected earl, and so he would have to work like everyone else for a living. Work for someone else, probably. Unless he fathered an important person.

  It all became clear to him, and he loathed it.

  “Do you understand?” she asked, cocking her head.

  Weighted by the injustice of his fate, he nodded.

  “Besides, you loved your brother.”

  A dart pierced his heart, reviving his grief. Why did she have to mention that? He grimaced. “Very much.”

  “Well, if you become the father of his child, you’ll be forever linked to him.”

  Alv could sense the manipulation in her words—she wanted to obtain something—but there was a logic to her reasoning, too. The only thing in life that remained from his dear brother was a baby in the womb of a prisoner. This was Alv’s chance to be close to Joar. And marrying Elke made sure he took care of her, like he’d promised to, as well as his niece or nephew.

  A sudden craaa, craaa from a treetop had them both turn to the forest at the foot of the mountain. What had alerted the crow? A bear? A wolf? Or hostile strangers? The woods could host many dangers. His mind flashed to the white sails on the ocean. Had they reached Bjorgvin yet?

  A second crow answered calmly in the distance. All was well. For now.

  Mother shook her head and gazed back at Alv. “And don’t forget that in addition to being a woman of wealth among her peers, thus a treasure, Elke is a woman of rare beauty. I know you’re not inclined to think so…” She let the sentence hang, referring to his preference for men, but he refused to play along. Unaffected, she continued, “But she’s a great prize of war. You have to see the symbolism in this.”

  Yes, it was obvious Mother wanted him to see a lot of symbolism today. He hated how she manipulated him, handing out argument after argument, maneuvering his mind to go to places he’d never wanted to. Yet he had no choice but to listen. This was about his future, and he had to play it right. No matter how much he hated politics and intrigues, he understood the value of the cards he had in hand and the rules of the game he was a part of.

  Mother stared, her sharp gaze drilling a hole into him. “You understand, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Marrying her will give you enormous credibility and esteem. You will be respected. You have not only stolen a highly prized woman from the Dutch merchants, you are keeping her for yourself. I already see you parading around Norway with her by your side.”

  He half-listened to Mother’s rubbish. What would she gain personally from all this? It was clear she maneuvered in favor of herself, too. Did she worry that her husband’s and son’s deaths would have an impact on her life situation? As the widow of a late nobleman, she could demand that the community provided for her, so what was she afraid of?

  “It’s settled, then,” she stated, a triumphant smile at her lips.

  Alv raised his shoulders and sighed. “She might not accept.”

  “She already has.”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “Of course. I told her she has to. Being pregnant outside of marriage isn’t a dishonor around here, but I’ve heard it’s very looked down upon in Europe to have an illegitimate child. She would be excluded from all circles. So if a Norwegian jarl is willing to take her for wife, she should be extremely thankful.”

  By Thor! He couldn’t believe Mother’s cunning ingeniousness.

  With what resembled a small dance of satisfaction, she spun on her heel and threw over her shoulder, “I’ll tell her to come over, so you two can talk.”

  What about Roeland?

  * * *

  A while later, Alv returned to the village with the bucket full of ice cold mountain water. Some people were out and about between houses, whispering as he passed. As usual, he ignored them and went straight to his house.

  A cloak-covered shape waited outside.

  His chest tightened.

  Good or bad news?

  He shouldn’t have left Roeland alone.

  He hurried over, trying not to spill water with each step.

  As he neared the door, the person uncovered her head, revealing a waterfall of curling black hair and a pair of equally dark, worried eyes. Elke. She carried a basket with the baby inside.

  He gave her a smile of relief and maybe of happiness to see her, too. While filling the bucket by the quiet riverside, he’d had time to think. If he married her, chances were there’d be no more talk about killing
her brother. Alv would become earl and thus have the authority to pardon him, and they could stay close for the rest of their lives. Seen from this perspective, Mother’s idea wasn’t so bad after all.

  “How are you doing?” he asked, approaching Elke and putting the bucket down by the door. When he rose and stood near her, somewhat towering due to being a head taller, she flinched.

  He stepped back. She’d been violated by a man—my own brother, remember! So, she needed gentleness and personal space.

  She looked down and fidgeted with the basket. “I’m okay.”

  “And this little one?” He glanced at the baby. “Is she eating well?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sleeping well?”

  He didn’t need to ask. Cocooned in a cloth with only her head peeking out, the little girl slept, her tiny mouth making sucking movements.

  There’d been much talk about Joar’s baby lately, but not this one, whose father had hacked Joar’s head off. What would happen to her?

  It depended on her father’s fate. If he died from the poison or was sentenced to death, she would become a slave. If Alv married his sister and pardoned him, the little girl would lead a normal life with him. One more reason to go forward with Mother’s plans.

  He gazed at the young, strikingly exotic woman in front of him. Was she going to be his wife? Would he have to share his house, his belongings, his life with her? He wasn’t sure how that would work out, much less when it came to sharing his bed. Would they be expected to have sex? His stomach plummeted. It wouldn’t be physically impossible, but he would sleep with her without heart.

  Anyway, from the manner she behaved when he entered her space, it would be a long time before she allowed any man to touch her again. They could live together as a formal couple for years without having to perform the marital duties.

  He sighed from the tense situation, and opted for a little humor to loosen the atmosphere. “My mother is good at making arrangements, eh?”

  Elke looked up, read his playful expression, and broke into a shy, white-toothed smile. She nodded, but didn’t say anything.

  “We’ll be okay, you know,” he assured her. “No matter the gossip you’ve heard about me, I’ll do what I can to give you and the two children a good life.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, the olive skin of her face turning red. “And…and my brother?”

  His heart thudded. He wanted to repeat the same promise for Roeland, but couldn’t. For lack of a better answer, he said, “Would you like to see him?”

  She widened her eyes. “Is he here? In your house?”

  “Yes.” Apparently, Mother hadn’t told her about last night’s events. Which reminded him—Mother hadn’t explained to him how she knew about the poisoning, either.

  He gave himself a mental slap. He should have insisted she answer his question. It was possible Gorm had told her, but improbable, since he’d said he wanted to be sure before making the news official. How then did Mother know? Was she involved?

  Frowning, he pushed the door open and motioned for Elke to go in first.

  She obeyed, sweeping the interior of his home as she entered, before stopping at her brother on the mattress at the end of the room. With a small scream, she hurried over, knelt by his side, and put the basket down. “Roeland!”

  He was still passed out, a coat of sweat making his sickly pale skin shine.

  Alv joined her, grabbed Roeland’s limp wrist, and felt the quick pulse beat against his fingertips. No improvement. At least, his sewn cheek looked good. Gorm had done a great job. There would always be a scar, just not as ugly as if the cut had been allowed to heal on its own.

  “What’s wrong with him?” she asked, voice strangled. “Why is he sick?”

  “He caught something in the prisoner barn. We don’t know what it is yet.”

  “Oh, my God.” She put a hand to her mouth.

  “I had him brought here so I could tend to him myself.”

  She glanced from him to Roeland and back. “Why? What can you do?”

  “I’m a medicine apprentice. I can follow his progress closely.”

  “Oh. Thank you. Again.” She gave him a long, earnest look. “You’re doing a lot for my family.”

  Gorm’s caution “Follow your conscience” replayed in his mind. “I just—” he started, not sure what to say.

  A cry came from the basket. Elke grabbed the wailing baby and hushed with a kiss to its forehead. The baby continued to cry, so she cradled it in her arms and rocked gently. She was going to be a good mother.

  Roeland stirred and opened an eye. He turned to Elke, opened the other eye, and gave her a weak smile.

  “Oh, Roeland,” she exclaimed, leaning over him with the baby in her arms, though not too close, likely afraid of his disease. “How are you feeling?”

  He grimaced and whispered, voice rusty, “Not so good.” More sweat pearled on his forehead. “But I’m happy to see you.”

  “I’ve been so worried about you!”

  “And I’ve been worried about you two.” He stared at the baby, wetness in his dark eyes making them shimmer. The first time he saw his daughter. After a moment, he swallowed and said, “It seems you’re in good hands.”

  “We are. Alv’s been very good to us.”

  He lifted a trembling finger and pointed to the baby. “She has black hair?”

  “Yes, like us.” As the baby cried again, she sat back and rocked.

  Roeland looked at Alv. “Thank you for taking care of them. And for letting me see them.”

  Alv’s throat tightened. He didn’t know what to say. These people had been robbed of everything. Pride, safety, a home, a loved one… Their entire lives had been destroyed, all because of Joar and his stupid mating instinct. Actually, Alv should apologize on behalf of his brother. If only he could find the right words! On the other hand, Roeland had hacked his head off, so they were kind of even.

  The baby wailed louder, and despite Elke’s hushing and rocking, it seemed inconsolable. Sharp, insistent cries filled the small room, deafening them.

  Elke put the baby back into the basket and stood. “She’s hungry. I’ll bring her to Siv.”

  Roeland nodded, following her movements with a glowing gaze. “It was good to see you. Take care, sister. And be back soon.”

  When the door closed behind her, he told Alv, “Thanks again for allowing me to see them. It means more to me than you can imagine. It gives me strength to fight and get well.”

  Alv wanted to reply with the same courtesy, but hesitated. So many conflicting feelings held residence in him, he didn’t know right from wrong!

  After a moment, needing to do something about the awkward silence between them, he asked, “Would you like anything?”

  Roeland nodded. “I need to wash, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  From his bed, Roeland watched patiently as Alv and his slave, Hedin, heated bucket after bucket of water in a large iron pot over the fire and poured the steaming liquid into a bath basin made of wood boards and iron bars.

  The air in the small, one-room house became warm and humid. The work made the young men sweat, and, after a moment, Hedin took off his tunic and Alv his fur coat. Both were skinny and had long limbs, contrarily to most of the beefy Viking warriors in the camp. Their skin was pale, indicating most of their activities took place indoors. They were privileged.

  After the slave with the short-cut hair had arrived, the two had been in a bad mood, glaring at each other, snapping, exchanging low arguments. The tension they created was explosive and highly unusual for a master and his slave. Hedin disregarded his lower rank, addressing Alv in an arrogant manner. Alv replied with a severe tone, but didn’t seem able to put Hedin in his place. It was as if the two had a long history of arguing, like a married couple continuously nagging, and Roeland had somehow gotten in the middle of it.

  When the basin became half-full, Alv straightened so his long blond hair slid do
wn his back and gave a loud sigh. “Ready.”

  “Great. Thanks.” Roeland pulled aside the bedsheet and got up from the mattress, motions slow. He felt weak and ill. It didn’t help that the two men looked at him. He was ashamed of his dirty, stinking skin, and hoped they didn’t smell him from where they stood. He hadn’t had the chance to wash in ten days, at least! And in the past twelve hours or so, his sick body had released a gallon of sweat.

  As he climbed into the basin, Alv stared before averting his turquoise-colored gaze. Opposite him, Hedin glowered from his master to Roeland and back. Such a strange situation. What was going on? Roeland felt like an intruder, as though his presence interrupted something between them.

  Trying to ignore the awkward atmosphere, he sank into the steaming hot wetness and sat at the bottom. The water reached up to his navel. Ah, what an intense delight! Resting his back and arms along the edge of the basin, he took a long, deep breath and let it out again with the same deliberate slowness. The tension in his stomach eased. The burn within seemed to diminish. Maybe the brew of herbs Alv gave him every hour did their part, too.

  He glanced at the two men and caught them staring again.

  Alv turned to a basket hanging on the wall, fished something out, and threw it to Roeland.

  He caught the object, a soap bar smelling of oils, honey, and plants. He smiled his first smile since the Viking raid in Bjorgvin.

  Alv’s eyes sparkled. “How are you feeling?”

  “A lot better.” The past week and a half—fleeing, hiding, getting captured, losing his wife, being chained inside a pigsty with his Dutch friends and their families—had been the worst of his life, a nightmare. Then, his illness had taken the last of his strength. Being sick without basic sanitary facilities like a bucket to vomit into or water to clean himself, had made the situation intolerable. There’d been times when he would’ve preferred to die. Maybe some of his friends did during the night—he didn't know, since he'd had the luxury of being brought to Alv's house.