In that moment, Chessa knew exactly what Ragnor was thinking. He couldn’t wait for his father to die. If he could get away with it, he’d kill Olric himself. He said, “The girl lied to you.”
“It wasn’t the girl who told me the truth. It was your mother. She is completely in my power, my prisoner, a submissive creature. I allow her to see everything, as you well know, and she tells me.”
Ragnor knifed a huge piece of sea bass into his mouth, the juices running down his chin. “It was a long time ago. Mother probably forgot. However, Kerek let the Viking prisoners escape. He could have captured all of them, including Rorik and his Hawkfell Island men. He didn’t. He failed. I would like to have this Hawkfell Island. Then I could have Utta.”
The king was swallowing from another gem-encrusted goblet held for him by his other concubine, evidently a different drink, for there were now three goblets set in front of him.
“She wanted me. Utta wanted me. She desired me. She gave me her precious mead to drink. Aye, Father, she would have come with me if it weren’t for the men.”
Chessa said in a clear loud voice, “Utta thought you were a fool and a dolt. She kept you drinking her mead so you would be too drunk to cause trouble. She failed, but she did try.”
There was complete silence at the table. The slaves and the concubines froze. A chewed bite of beef was held two inches from the king’s mouth. He stared at Chessa.
Ragnor leapt to his feet, his face mottled with rage. He shook his fist at her, yelling, “Damn you, Chessa. You’re nothing now. You’re in my power and you’ll do as I tell you. I’ll beat you if I wish. You will show me respect and obeisance.”
“I never did before. Why should I begin now? You deserve respect and obeisance as much as I deserve to be wedded to a pathetic worm like you.”
She heard Kerek draw in his breath. She knew she was playing a dangerous game, but her life was in the balance.
Ragnor jumped onto the table, hurling himself at her. It was so unexpected, the concubine screamed and her chewed bite of beef fell to the floor. Kerek hurled himself out of his chair, jerked Chessa back, and held himself in line for Ragnor’s attack.
Ragnor thudded against him, his hands gouging into Kerek’s throat. Kerek grabbed Ragnor’s upper arms, but it wouldn’t be enough. Ragnor had more leverage. Chessa grabbed her eating knife, a beautiful silver piece, and stabbed it into the back of Ragnor’s hand. He screamed, fell away, and slid to the floor, his clothing smeared with cabbage, peas, and apples baked in honey. A platter of boar steaks tilted on the edge of the table and fell, splattering Ragnor’s chin and chest with gravy and fat.
Ragnor was on his hands and knees, his hand fiery with pain, so humiliated he could scarcely think. He knew in that moment he would kill her. As soon as he rose, he would kill her.
Then, to his shock, he heard a hoarse sound. He looked up to see his father leaning back in his chair. His head was thrown back. He was laughing. He hadn’t heard his father laugh for as long as he’d been old enough to know what a laugh was. Then his father was howling with laughter. His toothless mouth was gaping open, his hands were holding his fat belly. The concubines were fluttering about him, not knowing what to do. The guards came forward, but they just stared, their swords at their sides. Chessa didn’t move, nor did Kerek, who just stared in astonishment at the king.
“What is this, Olric? You look ridiculous. Why are you laughing?”
“It’s the queen,” Kerek said, and quickly bowed to the lady who stood not three feet away from them, looking from her son to her husband. She was dressed in a gown more beautiful than any Sira owned, all embroidered with gold thread in intricate designs of birds and flowers against the soft white wool material. Her hair was braided atop her head, thick braids that were still blond, threaded with strands of white. Her face was thin and beautiful. Ragnor had the look of her. She didn’t look at all submissive. She didn’t look at all as if she were this fat old man’s prisoner.
“Madam,” Kerek said. “This is the princess of Ireland, here to marry Prince Ragnor.”
Chessa straightened to her full height. She was just as tall as the queen, and she was grateful for that.
“At least you’re no whimpering little fool,” Turella said. “I am from the House of Tur, in the Bulgar. A mighty kingdom, one that makes the Danelaw look like the remains of a feast. You may kiss my hand.”
Chessa lifted a beautiful white hand and kissed it.
The queen said, “Get up, Ragnor. Your father has stopped laughing and now you will stop mewling. Try to be a man. Get up and sit down.”
“But she attacked me, Mother. Look at my hand, she stuck me with a knife. I will punish her. I will have my men hold her and I will whip her.”
“You are a man. If you wish to whip her then you will do it by yourself.” She said to Chessa, “He looks like me, thus I cannot claim that my own child was taken away from me at birth and he put in its place. Give me some wine, Kerek.”
The queen then sat herself at the far end of the table. The king hadn’t said a word. His laughter had dried up slowly, like raisins in the sun.
“I heard that you were here now and wanted to have a look at you. Also, I am always about for meals, though I avoid one in this chamber. What did you do to make the king laugh? He’s had no laughter in him for twenty years. I had hoped you would be through eating, but you aren’t. I see that most of the food is on the floor.” She snapped her fingers and Chessa noticed three men who were standing around her chair. She spoke to them and they nodded.
Her own guard? Chessa wondered. She said aloud, “Why didn’t you dine with us, madam?”
The queen laughed, a soft musical laugh that was really quite nice. “I haven’t eaten at the same table with the king since he lost all his teeth. You see, I refused to chew his food for him.”
“Oh,” Chessa said. “I think I would have refused also.”
“I have been told that your father was once an old man like Olric here. All the skalds sing of his transformation brought about by a sorcerer named Hormuze. What do you know of this? You are the Hormuze’s child, are you not?”
“Yes, madam. You see I’m not really a princess at all. The king in his gratitude took me in and treated me like a daughter. My own father Hormuze disappeared, fading like shadows into his own wizardry, into a realm that none of us would understand.”
