15
THE CHAMBER WASdark. Chessa was alone. She was more worried than frightened. She knew she wouldn’t marry Ragnor and there was no way the queen would force her to. But she didn’t want to wait until the last minute to see what the queen would try. She knew she had to think of something. She sparred daily with Turella, insulted Ragnor until his eyes were crossed, and tried to avoid the king. Olric no longer terrified her, but he was unpredictable and he could lash out before Turella could control him. Kerek was an immovable rock, always there standing in her path, but she didn’t fear him at all. What was she to do now?
Just two hours before, at the evening meal, at least two dozen of the king’s nobles dined with them. Baric played his harp and sang, his woman Isla beside him. Slaves served heaped platters of roasted boar, broiled pheasant, and at least four different kinds of fish. There was more sweet wine and ale than Chessa had ever seen, and most of it was being steadily poured down all the gullets present. Men and women alike ate like stoats and drank until they were laughing at nothing at all, giving insults without anger, cheering Baric even when he wasn’t singing. The woman Isla was given leers and drunken suggestions from most of the men until surely even she must be horrified. But she hadn’t looked it. She just sat there, a besotted look on her face, as she stared at Baric.
After the slaves had cleared away the food, the king looked at all of their drink-flushed faces and said, “You have met Princess Chessa of Ireland. She will wed with Ragnor in three days. She is already carrying his babe, so an heir is assured.”
Chessa had nearly fainted.
Ragnor had nearly fainted as well. She heard him say to Kerek, “Damn you, it’s all your fault. I didn’t want her, I wanted Utta. But now I want Isla. Her mead is as tasty as Utta’s—she let me drink out of her own goatskin—and she wants me. Did you see how she smiled at me? How she spoke to me? Baric even commented on it. She doesn’t care that I don’t have hair on my back, that I haven’t a lush long beard. I hate it that all the men here want her as well. Many of them are as hairy as Baric. Chessa won’t make me mead. She won’t even drink mead with me. She won’t even try to make me happy.”
The king didn’t care that she was pregnant with another man’s child. Surely Turella hadn’t lied and told the king that it was Ragnor’s child she was carrying. Surely she couldn’t have done that. On the other hand the king had sounded so certain, so pleased when he’d announced that she was carrying Ragnor’s babe. It made her dizzy to try to figure out and keep straight in her own mind everyone and his own set notions. She had to think of something. And she did. She could think of nothing else. She rose slowly, aware that Kerek was nearly choking with fear, pulling at her gown, saying over and over, “No, Princess, keep your mouth shut this time. Please, it isn’t wise to go against the king in front of his nobles. Listen to me, sit down, and smile. Drink mead with Ragnor, it will please him.”
She sat down, lowering her head as the nobles began cheering, then yelling lewd advice to Ragnor, who looked quite pleased with himself, despite what he’d just said about not wanting her.
“This isn’t the end of it, Kerek,” she said quietly. “I won’t wed that ass.”
“As you will, Princess,” and she knew he didn’t begin to believe her. He was just humoring her. He had ultimate faith in Turella. Truth be told, so did she.
“Did you and Turella lie to the king about the babe or doesn’t he care that I carry another man’s child?”
Kerek, curse him, just shrugged.
What was she going to do? Whatever it was, she must move quickly. Three days. She found herself wondering if any prince or any king would care if she’d been impregnated by a goat.
She pushed herself more deeply into the woolen blankets. Suddenly she heard a sound. Was it Ingurd to see if she wished anything more? She didn’t move when she heard the door quietly open. Was it one of the guards? Surely the queen hadn’t dismissed them. Was the queen ready to force her hand? It was too soon for Turella to act, surely.
There was a sliver of light, then it quickly disappeared as the door closed again. She pulled the knife from its wrapping beneath her pillow. She rather hoped it was Ragnor, here to rape her. Just let the little worm try.
She held the knife easily. Her fingers were steady and dry. She was ready.
“Did you begin your monthly flow?”
The words were softly spoken, mocking, and she knew it was the woman Isla.
“No, and I don’t intend to either, not that it makes any difference to anybody. I’ll just wager that even William of Normandy wouldn’t care either. I thought men wanted purity in their brides. It makes no sense.”
“Men are strange creatures,” Isla agreed and sat beside her on the edge of the box bed. “I wish I could see you, but I won’t light the lamp, it’s too dangerous. The guards outside are dozing, but not fully asleep yet.”
“What do you want?”
“First I want to know if it’s true. Are you pregnant with another man’s child?”
“Is that what Ragnor bleated to you and Baric after I left you?”
“Aye. He is furious. He said you tried this trick before and thus he didn’t want to believe you this time. He said though that Kerek was certain and thus it had to be true. Who is the man this time?”
Chessa sighed. Certainly this was strange to be speaking in her dark chamber to a woman she’d met only today, a woman who called her a bitch, a woman who was obviously teasing Ragnor, for what reason she couldn’t imagine. “His name is Cleve. He is a beautiful man, a brave warrior, the only man I want to have for the rest of my life. He’s sometimes very difficult, but there is a richness deep inside him. He doesn’t yet realize he needs me, but he will. He believed he loved before and the woman betrayed him. I would never betray him and he will come to believe me. He believes himself ugly, hideous even, but he’s blind to himself. I will make him laugh until I die. I don’t know where he is now, but I pray he’s safe.”
“He bedded you?”
“No, but I told everyone it was he.”
“Your reasoning is pathetic. Listen, you little fool, who do you think I am?”
“You’re a painted harlot Baric found in the market. I hope you will seduce Ragnor so he’ll keep away from me, although I can’t imagine why you’d want to. He’s even begun trying to woo me now, doubtless on orders from his mother. Perhaps even orders from his father as well. I never know what Olric will do. When you and Baric came in today, he’d just sung me a romantic song and was demanding praise. He is such a worm.”
“Why wouldn’t you want to be the future queen of the Danelaw? You’re a princess, after all, despite the fact you’re really not, but it doesn’t matter. I paint my face and make mead, but you, Princess, you can do anything you please, have any man, any prince you wish. Why are you so stubborn about this Cleve?”
