Turella said to Kerek, “Will anyone be looking for her?”
“Aye, Cleve will search everywhere for her, but he won’t even consider that we came for her. It would be a mad thought. If he thinks about it, he will dismiss it. Eventually he will have to believe she’s dead, perhaps fallen into that miserable loch and drowned.”
“She is married to Cleve?” Turella said.
“So, the bastard’s still not dead,” Ragnor said, and shouted to one of the men, “Bring me more mead! Pour it into one of the blue glass goblets.”
“Aye,” Chessa said. “I’m married to Cleve. He’s very much alive and he’s returned to his home on Loch Ness. But he’ll come after me. He’ll search for me, not find me, and then he’ll sit down and think. He’ll realize you kidnapped me again and he’ll come to York and kill all of you. He should have killed Ragnor before but he held his own anger in check because he believed the Danelaw should remain in Viking hands as long as possible. Aye, he’ll come for me and all of you will regret it. If you don’t believe that, you’re all fools, you most of all, Turella. You met Cleve. You know the kind of man he is.”
Ragnor looked at his fingernails and frowned at the hangnail on his thumb. “I wanted to kill him, but Kerek, you stopped me, then told my mother to stop me.” He sent his mother a drunken frown. “How do you know Cleve? Surely he didn’t come to you, did he?”
“Nay, son, the princess is mistaken. Don’t think of it further.”
“I tried to kill him before, but the damned assassin failed. I would have slit his throat had not Cleve killed him first. Who would have believed a damned diplomat could be skilled as a warrior?”
Chessa stared at him. She said very quietly, “What do you mean, ‘you tried,’ Ragnor?”
“Your beautiful bitch of a stepmother. Aye, Sira. Both she and I wanted him dead. He came to negotiate a marriage between you and William of Normandy. She didn’t want it. She wanted her son to marry into the French royal family. By then I decided that I would take you. But Cleve killed the assassin and there was no other chance.”
Chessa felt rage strangle her. She opened her mouth, but there were no words. She was on Ragnor in an instant, her fingers closing around his throat, squeezing, screaming at him, “I saw it all, you damned coward! I myself threw a knife into the assassin’s back, but Cleve’s knife went into his throat and you’re right, he killed him. It was you? It was that wretched stepmother of mine? The two of you plotted his death? Oh, aye, I believe it. I saw her too, hiding in the shadows. I didn’t recognize who it was. Damn you, Ragnor, I’ll kill you now!”
She would have killed him if Kerek hadn’t pulled her off. Even he needed help. She was held against his chest, panting, rage unbanked in her eyes, wanting only to kill him. “I wouldn’t marry you no matter what you threatened. If you force me to somehow, I’ll kill you, Ragnor, and unlike the assassin you and Sira hired, I won’t fail.”
“Stop it,” Turella said very calmly. “Quiet, child. Come now, I didn’t know about this. You must be calm. You must think of the child.”
“Child?” Ragnor said, staring at her breasts again. “That’s just a simple jest, Mother. Chessa has been pregnant many times and it’s never true. No one ever believes her. Now she tried to kill me. If I weren’t a man who was gentle with weak and fragile women, I wouldn’t have let her touch me, but I didn’t want to hurt her. You understand, don’t you, Mother?”
“Aye,” Turella said. “I understand, my son. Chessa, come with me and we will speak together. Just you and I, two reasonable women.”
But Chessa just smiled at her and shook her head. “Nay, my lady. I won’t speak with you. I won’t do anything.”
“You’ve changed,” Turella said, frowning at her. “Ah, Ragnor, here’s your mead. Why don’t you take it and go speak to Captain Torric. We will leave in the morning at first light. You and Chessa will wed tonight.”
Ragnor, Kerek holding his arm, managed to stagger from the enclosed space. He drank down the mead in another blue glass goblet, looked back at his mother, and threw the goblet over the side of the warship. He giggled.
“He is paltry,” Turella said. “I don’t know how I could have birthed him. But Olric, you know, my child, he was weak, and stupid, wanting only to wench and to drink.”
“You have already told me that. I’m sorry, my lady, but I won’t help you. You’re right, I’ve changed. I’m a wife and I love my husband. We live at a new farmstead on Loch Ness, near his father’s. That is where I will spend my life, where I will live with my husband and raise our children, not in York.”
“You are pregnant, truly, this time, you are pregnant. When Kerek nodded to me I understood. I also see, just as he does, just as you do, that you will protect this babe in your womb. You will wed Ragnor to save the babe. No one will ever know that Ragnor isn’t your true husband. Even if you bleat it about, why then, can you really believe that anyone would care? There’s really nothing more I have to say to you. You’re not stupid, Chessa. You know when to retreat.”
29
“BY ALL THE gods, I don’t believe this,” Cleve said, wanting to yell with relief. “Are you certain?”
“Aye,” Varrick said. “They’re still here in Inverness and Chessa is still their prisoner.”
The old woman at the bathing hut had told them about the little sweeting whose hair she’d plaited with lovely yellow ribbons. “Looked like a princess, she did,” the old woman had said.
If only she knew, Cleve had thought, giving her a piece of silver.
Igmal slipped around the side of a jeweler’s stall to join them. “Ragnor and Chessa are to wed tonight. A mock ceremony, but none will question it. I overheard one of the queen’s men telling another whilst they traded here in Inverness. They plan to sail back to York at first light in the morning.”
“There are sixty men,” Igmal said, “more or less. Queen Turella is with them.”
“Even if she weds him, it means nothing,” Varrick said. He said to Cleve, “I see from your face that your plan won’t work now. It is time for Pagan.” He drew the burra slowly from its sheath. He held it up in front of him, fitting his fingers into the circles and squares. Cleve didn’t want to watch, but he did, and it did seem that his fingers were sinking down into those markings, as they would into soft wax, though he knew that wasn’t possible. Varrick said quietly, “I see Chessa. She’s seated beside Turella beneath the cargo covering. By the gods, either Turella or that idiot son of hers has brought the king’s chair. Has the woman no sense? Chessa is all right. She’s thinking, trying to decide what to do. I can feel purpose flowing through her, and anger and determination to return to you—and to me, naturally. Ah, yes, she knows we’re here. I can feel the quickening in her. She knows and now she’ll look for a way to aid us to get to her.” Varrick fell silent, his eyes closed now, but he was still seeing on board that warship through the magic of the burra.
Cleve stared at him with the fascination of a man cornered by a snake. This snake with his magic stick was his father.
It was Varrick, Chessa thought, and he was calling to her, but now she realized that it wasn’t really Varrick, it was Varrick using the burra, calling through that ancient magic. She felt calm flow through her. She’d been thinking and thinking, trying to figure out how to escape and had decided that her best chance would be once she was alone with Ragnor after the wedding. She thought of him touching her and grinned. She’d break his fingers if he tried.
What to do? She knew they’d have to wait until it was dark. She rose, stretched, and walked from the covered cargo space. She said idly to Captain Torric, “Will there be a moon tonight, do you know?”
“A half-moon,” Torric said and no more. He was uncomfortable. He hadn’t wanted this, not after Rorik, Merrik, and Cleve had saved him and Kerek, even that ass, Ragnor. He looked up at Chessa, thought her beautiful with her hair in soft plaits, the saffron ribbons matching her tunic and falling around her face. “I’m sorry about this, Princess. So is Ker
ek, it’s just that he—”
“Why do you call me that when you know it isn’t true, Torric?”
“Habit,” he said, and spat over the side into the dark water of Inverness harbor.
“If I jumped into the harbor would you jump after me, Torric?”
“Nay, Princess. My leg didn’t heal straight. I’d rather let you swim away than drown.”
“Good,” she said, and ran toward the side of the warship. She didn’t get far. Kerek’s hand closed over her upper arm. “You would ruin your beautiful gown, Chessa,” he said. “Come now, you must wed with Ragnor.”
She stared down at his blunt fingers holding her. She knew then, knew exactly what she would do. Cleve was near. Aye, she knew what she would do. She smiled up at him. “I have no choice, just as you said, Kerek. Let’s get it done.”
“Why are you smiling?”
She shrugged. “Why not? If this is to be my fate, then so be it. Are you not pleased that I will obey? Don’t you want me to marry Ragnor now?”
Kerek frowned after her. She was walking briskly, as if she were looking forward to wedding Ragnor. Only a slug would look forward to wedding Ragnor. He felt something different about her. He felt a shock of fear. It angered him. He went after her and grabbed her arm again and pulled her back. He would have to watch her carefully.
The ceremony took very little time. Chessa stood beside Ragnor, who was already nearly stumbling with drink, but he said in a loud, clear voice, “I take you, Princess Chessa of Ireland, as my queen. You will bear my children and the future heirs of the Danelaw. You will be submissive and obey me. If you please me, you will have a long and pleasing life. I, King Ragnor of York, vow this to you.”
She didn’t strike him, but it was close. Instead, she smiled up at him and placed her hand on his forearm. “I, Chessa of Ireland, will come to York with you, Ragnor, and be the queen of the Danelaw. Being what you are, life will not continue as it has. All know this. If anyone doesn’t know this by now then he will learn it soon enough.”
She stopped, nodded to Turella and then to Kerek. “There is nothing else to say,” she said. “Nothing at all.”
Ragnor called out, “She’s now the queen, Mother. You can leave and take the rest of those blue glass goblets with you. Chessa, bring me more mead and then we will retire and I will take you as I should have that first time, only Kerek stopped me. I still haven’t punished him sufficiently for that. Now you’re not even a virgin. Aye, I’ll punish him for that as well.”
“Certainly, my husband,” Chessa said, her voice sweeter than the mead that she handed to Ragnor. “To be taken by you is something I’ve scarce ever even imagined. Here is your mead. Drink deeply, husband. I will think of a punishment for Kerek. He shouldn’t have abused you so.”
“Mayhap you shouldn’t drink more,” Kerek said. He knew that Ragnor would fall into a stupor very soon now and that was when Chessa planned to try her escape. Was he to watch them throughout the night? He cursed to himself. Ragnor turned on him. “I am the king of the Danelaw and you are naught, Kerek. After we return to York, I will take men to Hawkfell Island and we will destroy that miserable pile of stone and bring back Utta. Come, Chessa, it’s time I was your husband, at long last.”
“Certainly, my husband,” she said again, tucked her hand through his arm and helped direct him toward the enclosed cargo space.
Turella stood beside him, staring after them. “She will try to outsmart me, Kerek, but she won’t succeed. Don’t worry so. If Ragnor is too sodden with drink to take her tonight, why then, he’ll do it when he’s sober, tomorrow. Besides, once he’s taken her, then we will just keep him drunk. It will make things easier.”
Kerek turned to Turella. “I don’t like this, you know that. I never did.”
“You are too soft,” she said. “Come now, there is nothing she can do. The men are everywhere and there are at least a half dozen on watch all through the night.”
* * *
Cleve motioned the men to hunker down within the deep shadows of the fortress walls. “Stay back, all of you. I don’t want to take the chance that any of their warriors will see us. We don’t need to see the warship. Varrick will tell us what we need to know.”
“I see eight men, holding these watches,” Varrick said. He drew the men’s positions in the sand, all their men hunkered down in a circle to look. “Ragnor is in a drunken stupor in the enclosed cargo space. It’s here. Chessa is sitting next to him, waiting.”
“Waiting?” Igmal said.
“For us,” Cleve said. “For me. Then she plans to act. That frightens me. I think Turella would rather kill her than let her go.”
“Nay,” Varrick said.
Cleve frowned at the certainty in his father’s voice, but said instead, “Each of you pick your man. We must kill them quickly and with no noise. Allow none of them to fall into the water. I will get Chessa. We must be fast and silent for this to succeed. Does anyone have any questions?”
But the warship wasn’t tied securely to the long wooden dock as Varrick had told them it was. It lay at least fifty yards out, moored to the dock by stout ropes, held in place with an iron anchor. There were three more men pacing forward and back in front of the boarding plank. They looked alert. They were well armed. There was no chance Cleve and his men could swim to the warship without being seen, no chance at all. Besides, four of the men couldn’t swim.
Cleve cursed.
Varrick looked puzzled. “This isn’t right,” he said. “When did they move the warship away from its moorings? Damnation, I saw the warship moored to the dock.”
Igmal just shrugged.
Igmal said, “What will we do? Your plan can’t work now, Cleve.”
Cleve looked toward his father and said, “Can you do it?”
Varrick merely smiled. He withdrew the burra. He walked away from the men to higher ground at the far end of the fortress wall that protected Inverness. Cleve didn’t know if his father left them because he wanted himself to appear more the sorcerer or because he needed it. He stood on the high ground, closed his hands over the burra and raised it high in the air in front of him. He began to chant the strange words he’d learned so many years before. Soon a slash of lightning knifed through the still night, striking the wooden dock, not many feet from where one of the warship guards was pacing, sending smoke gushing into the night air. The man froze, then yelled.
Another streak of lightning came, then two more together, then one more, this one searing away the end of the wooden dock. Thunder boomed right overhead, so loud Cleve’s men held their hands over their ears.
The warriors on board the warship were running about, looking at the heavens, looking toward the men on the dock that was falling away beneath their feet.
Captain Torric yelled, “The ropes will break. Row to the dock and save the men. Quickly now, quickly!”
Rain poured down upon them. It had been silent and dry one moment, then the rain flooded over them. “Hurry,” Torric yelled. “Hurry!”
The men were rowing frantically, others with wooden pails were filling them from the bottom of the warship and tossing the water over the side, but the rain only came down harder and harder still in the following minutes.
“Aye,” Igmal said to Cleve, “see how they come to us. They’re like dead chickens that don’t yet know they’re dead. Soon now, very soon, and we will have Chessa back.”
But Cleve wasn’t so certain of that. He had seven men. There were nearly sixty men aboard the warship. What chance did they have even amid all this confusion?
Lightning struck the huge mast of the warship, tearing it in half. Men screamed in pain and fear as it fell on twelve of them, pinning them beneath it. It was then Cleve saw Chessa. She was standing in the entryway of the cargo space, staring toward shore, staring toward Varrick, whom all could see now, if they looked, his black cloak billowing out behind him, standing tall on that higher ground, which seemed even higher now than it had before, the burra held
in front of him, his head flung back, his throat working. Cleve knew he was speaking, but the words were low, nearly a whisper, and blown away by the wind that was now whipping the warship closer and closer to the dock. It would crash into it. The warriors on board were praying to Odin, to Thor, to Freya. They were terrified. Both Kerek and Torric yelled at them to row back out to sea, but the wind was shoving them harder and harder toward the dock and the shore.
Chessa stood there, smiling.
Turella ran to her, the wind so strong she could barely remain upright.
“You’re doing this,” she screamed at Chessa. “I can see it in your witch’s eyes. You’re doing this. Stop it, damn you, stop it before we’re all dead.”
“Aye, I am doing it. I won’t die. When the warship strikes the dock, the men will flee in terror. Then, Turella, I will leave you, and I hope never to see you again. If I do, I will destroy you. You think this storm is strong? I haven’t stretched my powers yet. This is only the beginning.”
Suddenly, the warship struck the dock. The sound of rending wood sounded through the night, so powerful the crash that it was heard even over the wind. Men screamed and leapt from the warship, jumping onto the remains of the dock and running as fast as they could toward shore and safety.
“Cowards!” Turella screamed after them, but her voice was smothered in the wind, her mouth filled with the thick rain that poured down over them.
“Stop it, Chessa.”
“Nay, Kerek. You’d best save your queen. As for Ragnor, I believe he is still unconscious from all the mead he drank. I’m leaving now. I wanted to call you friend but you wouldn’t allow it. I don’t wish you well, Kerek. Goodbye.”
He grabbed her arm. “I won’t let you go.”
It was then Cleve said, “Release her, Kerek. She’s right. It’s over now.”
Chessa said quickly, “He knows I brought the devastation, he just doesn’t want to accept it. I will bring more if you don’t release me, Kerek, that or Cleve will kill you.”
Lord of Falcon Ridge Page 34
