Lord of Falcon Ridge

by Catherine Coulter

  Ragnor felt saliva pool in his mouth. He watched Isla draw another goatskin from beneath her gown. He stared at her big breasts. He didn’t like all the cosmetics she wore on her face, but she’d probably had a disease when she’d been a child and thus her face was badly pocked. As for the patch over her eye, he didn’t care about that either. It wasn’t important. Her mead was important. Her worship of him was important as were those big breasts of hers.

  He drank deeply, knowing she was smiling at him. He wiped his mouth and said, “Your mead is better than Utta’s. Will you bed with me after I am married to Chessa? Will you continue to make me mead?”

  “I will think about it. You know, Ragnor, mayhap you need a woman who isn’t at all like your mother to tell this silly princess how very lucky she is. Mayhap I should visit her. I would make her see reason. I would make her appreciate how blessed she is, how honored she is that you will take her to wife. Mayhap she isn’t really pregnant with this other man’s child. Mayhap it is just another ploy, and this Kerek is quite wrong. I could get her to tell me the truth.”

  “If my mother couldn’t succeed with her, then no one could, even you. Even my mother was forced to drug her. I doubt she’s even awake.”

  Isla shrugged and poured Ragnor more mead. “I could see. There would be no harm done.”

  “I will think about it. Baric, I want to drink my mead. I don’t want to learn any more of those silly poems. I wish to gaze upon Isla whilst I drink. Mayhap she will rub my forehead. You may play for us.”

  “Aye, my lord,” Baric said, his eyes still on his shoes, thankful his beard covered his face.

  “Do you taste rich and dark, Isla?”

  “No woman could taste richer and darker than I do, my lord. I’m filled with richness, deep within me.”

  “I don’t understand that.”

  “I don’t either, my lord, but I like the sound of it.”

  Baric sang louder, his smooth voice filling the chamber.

  “More mead, my lord?”

  “I feel very tired, Isla. Very tired indeed.”

  “Then rest. That’s right, just lay your royal head on my lap and rest. Good.”

  Ragnor began snoring. Isla looked over at the guards who stood at the doorways. They looked bored.

  “Your song is exquisite, Baric. I believe you’ve put the prince to sleep.”

  “I know. But I’ve a need to relieve myself. Would you like me to carry Ragnor out of here?”

  “It suppose it wouldn’t look good for me to do it.”

  “You carry my harp, nothing more. I would fear your breasts just might fall to the floor.”

  16

  CLEVE ROSE AS Kerek came into Baric’s small chamber, given to Baric by Olric some five years before.

  “What is this about you wanting to speak to the princess, Baric? Why is this woman here?”

  “Hello, Kerek.”

  Kerek stared at that face with all its paint, at that black patch over the right eye, at those huge breasts.

  “Come, Kerek. Bid me hello.”

  “Oh no,” Kerek said, taking a step back. “You’re not a whore at all, are you? Is it you, Cleve?”

  “Aye.”

  “Many of the men want to bed you, including Ragnor. By the gods, you’ve disguised yourself well. But it’s over. You must leave. The queen has Chessa hidden. Even I don’t know where she is. You must escape the palace before someone discovers who you really are. I’ve no wish to harm you, but if Ragnor sees you—sees you as you really are—he’ll do his best to see you flayed alive.”

  “I don’t think so, Kerek. That’s why you’re here. Baric, shut the door. Aye, that’s good. Stand against it. Now, another trade, Kerek. I have Ragnor. You have Chessa. He dies if you don’t give me Chessa. You have until the tide is in. That’s about three hours from now.”

  Kerek just shook his head back and forth and began to moan aloud. “Nothing has gone right, nothing. A simple kidnapping began it, and from that moment, everything turned sour. I had believed only the princess could bring me low, but now here you are dressed like a woman, painted like a harlot, and you’ve teased Ragnor until he’s ready to howl. No one realized you were a man, even I.”

  “Don’t tell me you wanted to bed me too, Kerek.”

  “No, but my mind has been filled with so many details of late.”

  “I’m relieved. Ragnor’s mind is filled only with the desire for my mead. He said it’s better than Utta’s.”

  Kerek cursed softly. “You brought Utta’s mead, didn’t you? I should have guessed something was amiss.”

  “Of course,” Cleve said. “My only concern is that the queen will refuse to give up Chessa because she believes her more valuable than Ragnor.”

  “She’ll give her up. The Danes wouldn’t accept a woman ruling openly. But why didn’t you just leave her? You can have another woman. Why must it be Chessa?”

  “Didn’t you tell me you were sorry when you made the trade for Kiri, sorry because I loved her?”

  “Aye, but what does love have to do with anything? I’ve seen little enough of it around. Just look at you—Kiri’s mother tried to murder you. Forget love, Cleve, and leave. Chessa will be happy here, you’ll see.”

  “Is that why Turella drugged her and has her hidden? Because she’s so concerned about how happy she’ll be? Give it up, Kerek. For the last time, give it up.”

  “I must speak to the queen.”

  “Why don’t both of us speak to her.”

  They found Turella in her garden, on her hands and knees, sorting seeds. She was humming.

  “Lady,” Kerek said and lightly touched his hand to her shoulder. She grew very still, then slowly, she looked up at him and Cleve saw that the look on her face was too tender for a queen toward her subject. He wondered how he could turn it to his advantage.

  “Ah, Kerek. What have you done? You brought Baric’s woman. Why?”

  Cleve said, “I’m really not a woman, my lady. My name is Cleve. I’m the father of Chessa’s babe. I’m here to fetch her and take her home.”

  The queen slowly cleaned off her hands and rose. She looked at Cleve for a very long time, then said, her voice irritated, “I want to see what you look like as a man. I want to know what my grandson will look like.”

  “Perhaps the babe will be the picture of Chessa,” Cleve said.

  “You can’t have her, Cleve. It is done. You will leave willingly or I will give you to my son. He treated you badly before. Just imagine what he would do now.”

  “Ragnor won’t do anything, lady. Your son is right now snoring blissfully, drugged to his brows, just as you drugged the princess.”

  The queen staggered back. Kerek grabbed her arm to steady her. “Is he telling the truth, Kerek?”

  “Aye, he is. I don’t know where he’s got Ragnor hidden. He wants to trade Ragnor for the princess.”

  “I want it done now,” Cleve said. “Take me to Chessa.”

  Slowly, the queen shook her head. “I cannot. She must wed Ragnor. She must someday rule the Danelaw.”

  Cleve only smiled. He slipped a small very sharp knife from his tunic, grabbed Kerek, and stuck the knife point into his neck.

  “Then first I will slit Kerek’s throat and then I will kill Ragnor. You can keep Chessa, but I don’t know what you’ll do with her. She’ll make you regret it too, if I know her. Ah, I see that you do. Give over, lady.” He pressed the knife tip into Kerek’s throat. A drop of blood trickled over the smooth blade.

  Turella stepped forward. “No, don’t hurt him. By all the gods, what am I to do, Kerek?”

  “Let him kill me, Turella, it doesn’t matter. But he will kill Ragnor as well and then where will we be? Cleve is right. It’s over. We must think of something else.”

  The queen frowned down at her hands, at the black rich dirt beneath her nails. “We can find a silly little girl for Ragnor, I suppose. But it means that I must remain as I am, Kerek. I cannot die.”

  “You w
on’t die,” Kerek said.

  “This is all touching,” Cleve said. “Let’s end it. Will we trade?”

  The queen nodded. “Release Kerek.”

  Cleve did, then wiped the tip of the knife on his sleeve. “Take me to the princess.”

  The queen started to protest but Kerek gently laid his hand on her arm. “You can believe him. He will release Ragnor. He will keep his word. He is that kind of man.”

  Chessa lay on her back atop several soft furs in a small storage chamber. Two guards sat near her, rising quickly when the queen came into the room.

  “Leave us,” she said.

  Cleve dropped to his knees beside Chessa. He shook her gently. “She’s still unconscious. You drugged her yesterday.”

  “She will be all right. I planned to lessen the drug tomorrow morning until she was just conscious enough to do as she was told during the marriage ceremony.”

  Chessa moaned, but she didn’t awaken.

  “Kerek, wrap her up in the furs. You will come with me. When I have her safe on board the warship, then I will tell you where Ragnor is.”

  It was quickly done. Cleve’s last view of the queen made him smile. She was tapping her fingers against her temple. She was thinking and planning and plotting. He imagined that some poor girl would soon be in Ragnor’s bed.

  They were out of York harbor within an hour.

  “I have a gray hair,” Cleve said to Chessa, who was lying still unconscious across his thighs, “and I have known you only a short time. What will I look like when I reach Rorik’s advanced years?”

  Rorik laughed as he rowed. “It’s true,” he said over his shoulder, “I’m aged. I am thirty at the beginning of summer. How can you see this gray hair? Your hair is golden.”

  Hafter said, “He feels the gray hair, Rorik, and I understand that. Many times Entti will make me so angry I want to strangle her, I can actually feel my own gray hairs pushing to come up through my scalp. Is the princess awake yet, Cleve?”

  “No, and it begins to worry me. She’s very pale. Her flesh feels too dry. I was stupid. I should have found out what drug the queen gave her.”

  Gunleik said, “Wet a cloth in the water and wipe her face with it. Mayhap it will shock her awake.”

  He lightly touched the wet cloth over her dry skin. He smoothed her eyebrows, touched his fingertips to the tip of her nose, and rubbed the cloth over her throat. Her lashes were thick and long. He hadn’t noticed that before. Her mouth should be soft and moist, he’d noticed that, but now her lips were dry and cracked. How could this happen in just one day?

  He began to worry when darkness fell that night. He ate the dried herring Hafter handed to him and chewed on flatbread Aslak had bought at the marketplace. She didn’t move. Cleve shook her, slapped her face several times. She still didn’t awaken. Gunleik told him to continue wiping her with the wet cloth.

  He carried her to the covered cargo space, laid her gently on several blankets, then stretched out beside her. He picked up her hand. It was small and dry and limp.

  He stripped off her clothes and began wiping her with a wet cloth. Still, she didn’t wake up.

  It was Gunleik who said just after dawn, “She must not have borne the queen’s potion well. We’ve got to make her wake up. I fear she’ll just fade away from us if she remains unconscious.”

  Cleve had felt helpless in his life, many, many times, helpless and impotent, but now it was not just his need to do something to help her, it was necessary for him, she couldn’t die. She was Kiri’s second papa. By all the gods, she was also important to him. He felt fear in his guts. “What are we going to do?”

  Gunleik rose. “I’ll get Rorik’s packet of medicines Mirana always sends with him. Perhaps there is something that will help.”

  Gunleik was back with a large skin lined with soft linen and holding vials of creams and liquids. Rorik came in behind him. “There is nothing here that can help else I would have said something before.”

  “She must wake up,” Cleve said. “She must wake up and see that I’m a man again. She’s been unconscious for nearly two days. She’ll starve to death if she doesn’t awaken.”

  “Then we will pull close to shore and you can go overboard with her. Hold her in the cold water. Mayhap that’s what’s needed to shock her awake. Mirana did that once with our little boy, Ivar, and it worked.”

  Cleve thought it a crazed idea, but he was desperate.

  When they were within feet of the shore, Cleve lifted Chessa, held her tight against him, and jumped into the water with her. They both went under. The water was so cold it shocked the breath from him. He shoved upward, found he could stand on his feet, and kept Chessa close, the water to her neck. He held her there until suddenly she heaved and shuddered, and shoved hard at him, moaning, hitting at his chest.

  “You’re killing me,” she yelled, her voice harsh and raw. “I’m dying of cold. Please, Cleve, don’t kill me. I won’t be pregnant anymore with your babe, I swear it.”

  He was so relieved, so very happy, he lifted her in his arms and kissed her mouth. “I should have known the moment you woke up you’d talk about my babe. Come, let’s get you dry.”

  She looked at the boat, at the men all leaning over the side, all cheering now. “This is strange. You’re no longer Isla. What’s happening? Oh, dear, where is the queen?”

  Cleve just laughed and handed her up to Hafter, who hauled her into the warship. “I tried to throw her to the fish, but she wouldn’t let go of me.”

  “What happened? Where are we?”

  Cleve climbed over the side of the warship, shook himself like Kerzog, and said, grinning at her, “We rescued you. The queen gave you a potion. I gave Ragnor a potion. Then we made a trade. The queen didn’t want to, but she realized that you couldn’t rule the Danelaw without Ragnor as the nominal king. Unfortunately, the sweet prince never awoke before we gave him back to Kerek and the queen, else I would have enjoyed telling him that he’d fallen in love with Isla, who was really his worst nightmare, namely I, and it was Utta’s wine he was drinking. You’re safe now, Chessa. Now, let’s go get us both dry.”

  “I’m very hungry, Cleve. I haven’t eaten since last night.”

  “You,” Rorik said, cuffing her shoulder as he would a boy, “you haven’t eaten for at least two days.”

  “Perhaps you don’t have to feed her. Just look at her, she still yells and talks,” Rorik said. “Any minute now she’ll want you to impregnate her again. How do you feel, Chessa?”

  “Very cold. I shall collapse very soon since you haven’t fed me.”

  “Come along,” Cleve said. “Would you like to try on my breasts? I brought them back with me. Poor Baric didn’t want to keep them. I think it would have saddened him to have them near him without me being attached to them. Ah, we did share some interesting moments together.”

  “You should have let me stack up my sticks, Papa. I wouldn’t have run out this time.”

  Cleve kissed Kiri, then said, “No more sticks. Now, I kept my promise to you. Here’s Chessa.”

  “Papa!” Kiri jumped into Chessa’s arms and hugged her thin arms around her neck.

  Chessa was laughing and kissing the little girl’s face. “Your papa—your first papa—was a great hero. Everyone in York believed he was Thor, come down with his lightning bolts to terrify the king and queen until they gave me back to him. As for you, you were wonderful, Kiri. I’m very glad you didn’t starve yourself again.”

  “Aunt Laren said that since I now have two papas, I’m more important than ever. She said my papas couldn’t bear it if something happened to me. So I ate and ate.”

  Chessa rubbed her palm over the little girl’s stomach. “Cleve,” she called out, laughing. “I fear we will have a very fat little creature on our hands if we leave her often. Instead of starving herself, she will cram food down her gullet until she waddles.”

  Kiri laughed and pulled out of Chessa’s arms. She grinned at Cleve and Chessa then ran
to Aglida to play.

  “Behold our true importance,” Cleve said. He turned to Mirana. “Chessa and I will wed. I can’t hold out against her any longer. I don’t want any more gray hairs. I will send a messenger to both Duke Rollo and to King Sitric.”

  “Tomorrow,” Old Alna said, and cackled. “You’ll wed tomorrow. Finally, you’ll plant a real babe in her belly. Lord Rorik, I wish you’d brought back Captain Torric. Aye, what a fine lad he was.”

  That evening, both during and after a dinner of roasted pheasant, fried halibut, and Entti’s delicious rye bread, Cleve told of his adventures in York. His disguise was brought out and admired and laughed over. Everyone begged him to dress just once for them as Isla. He refused, saying his daughter would swoon from disgust and shock.

  Laren asked many questions about the people at the palace in York. Cleve provided her with all the details, as did Chessa. They knew that soon Laren would weave a skald’s tale. Cleve asked her at the end of the evening, “I beg you, Laren, let me remain a man. I dread thinking of how I will be greeted in future years if you tell about how Cleve of Malverne disguised himself as a whore with big breasts and more paint on her face than a whitewashed wall in order to rescue the damsel.”

  Laren punched his arm and laughed. “I will think about it. Actually, I will ask Chessa after you’ve been married for several days. If you’ve pleased her, Cleve, why then, I will let you remain the mighty Thor.”

  Cleve grinned down at her, sweet Laren, as beloved as a sister. “I’ll try my best, Laren, I’ll try my best.”

  Just before the ceremony the following afternoon, Kiri said to Cleve, “You’re certain you wish to wed Chessa, Papa? I think she’s a very good second papa, but a wife is different. You’ve never wanted another wife since my mama.”

  “I think those things that make her an excellent second papa will also make her a good wife. I have to marry her, Kiri.”

  Kiri said slowly, frowning up at him, “But why?”

  “If I don’t she’ll begin to count sticks and soon she’ll be so skinny she’ll blow off the eastern cliffs here on Hawkfell Island. She doesn’t want to be parted from us, Kiri, thus I must wed her.”