Erik said, “That is nonsense. She is a girl, naught more. She cannot—”
“You will listen to her before you make your pronouncements.”
Erik looked as if he would clout his brother, but he didn’t. He subsided in his chair—what had been his father’s chair—his face flushed, his eyes narrowed. He now looked at Laren, who was sitting beside Old Firren. “You fancy yourself a skald, girl?”
She looked up at him, and regarded him dispassionately, as though he were of little account at all. She shrugged then and it enraged him. “I fancy myself nothing at all. You will tell me, aye, doubtless you will tell me what I am.”
Sarla sucked in her breath. She was seated next to her husband, and felt the quick rage pulsing through him. She said quickly, her voice too loud, fright sounding through, she knew it, but couldn’t prevent it, “Do you like the herring, my lord? Roran Black Eye caught it just this afternoon.”
Erik forced his eyes away from the female slave. “Roran always has luck with the fish,” he said, and drank deeply of the mead.
So it was that after the interminable meal, Laren was asked to stand before them and begin the tale of Grunlige the Dane from the beginning. She saw Deglin leave from the corner of her eye and was relieved. Just looking at him brought a wave of pain to her burned leg. She noticed that he limped and knew that he blamed her for it.
She thought of silver coins, took a sip of beer, smiled at all the assembled company and said, “Once there was a valiant warrior whose name was Grunlige the Dane.”
She embellished the beginning of the story so that all of Rorik’s men were sitting close now, listening carefully, all their low conversation stilled.
“... And when Parma leaned down to grab Selina, when his hands touched her arms, something very strange happened.”
She paused apurpose, looking at each man and woman and child—those children who were still awake. Her eyes sparkled, she leaned close, as if about to tell a secret, she wet her lips with her tongue.
It was Oleg who said finally, “Enough, girl! Tell us else I will steal your beer and you will have no more for two seasons!”
The men cheered and Eller said loudly, “Give the girl a chance. I smell a good tale acoming.”
9
LAREN SAID,HERvoice low and filled with emotion, “Aye, when Parma touched Selina’s arms, he felt as though Thor himself had sent a bolt of lightning through him. He fell back, trembling, and suddenly he was brutally cold, his hands shaking. His hands felt seared, pain surging through them, yet there were no marks on them. They felt numb, then they ached and throbbed. He looked from his hands to Selina. She said quietly, ‘I told you not to touch me.’
“As the moments passed, so did his memory of his fear, the memory of the strange scorching pain in his hands, the cold that was surely colder than death itself, and he was angry now, unwilling to believe that something strange had indeed happened, something that he hadn’t seen or understood. He snarled at her and leapt upon her, throwing her to her back on the rocky ground. Still, she didn’t scream, didn’t try to struggle against him. He lay on top of her, grinning now, spittle pooling on his lips, for his was an evil grin, a triumphant grin, and he said, ‘There was nothing strange, to well up within me, nothing foreign. ’Twas just a momentary dream, an instant of uncertainty, nothing more. I will plow your belly now and then I will take you back to my farmstead and you will become one of my concubines and know a life of servitude.’
“No sooner were the words out of his mouth than he felt himself lifted bodily off her. What man had the strength to lift him and hold him like this? Like he were naught but a small child? He tried to jerk free, but could not. No, he hovered over her, not more than six feet above her, looking down at her, stunned, unspeaking, words clogging in his throat. He didn’t drop back down to the ground as a man should when falling from a height. No, he wasn’t falling at all. He was going higher and higher, until finally he saw Selina still lying there on her back on the ground, just looking up at him. She smiled and called up to him, ‘Go higher, Parma, ’tis your ambition, isn’t it? Aye, as high as the clouds. Go, Parma. Your fate awaits you.’
“He kicked and thrashed about, but he continued to go higher and there was naught he could do about it. He was shrieking now with fear, struggling wildly against the unknown force that was holding him, yet even as he tried to turn onto his back, he was not able to. His body seemed frozen there, staring down at Selina, who was growing smaller and smaller, and he knew she was still smiling at him.
“He shrieked and shrieked. He wanted his release but he knew, too, if he were released he would die, for he would plummet back to the ground and be crushed against the rocks. Suddenly, without warning, he felt himself heaved forward, as if shoved by a mighty hand, and now he was no longer hovering over Selina, he was moving swiftly to the east. Then there was water beneath him, a vast sea of water, and his fear was so great that he couldn’t begin to understand what was happening to him. She must have cursed him, he thought, clinging to that, aye, she was a witch and none of this was really happening, it was a vision, an illusion brought on by her witch’s curse. He would find her and he would kill her, but all he did was move more quickly, shoved southward now by that mighty force. He was in the clouds and he couldn’t see through the white haze, and he was cold, shivering, his flesh blue, as blue as Grunlige’s hands had been after he’d shredded all the ice floes. He remembered Selina’s words. He damned her for a witch just as she’d damned him. He would die here, high above the earth, frozen to death in the clouds all because of a curse from a woman he would kill if only he could find her again.
“Then, very slowly, he began to descend from the sky. The air grew warmer and he felt himself once more able to think, to see, to reason. He could see the earth clearly, the rocks, a narrow stream, the brilliant green of the grass. He was not plummeting downward, but gliding smoothly and slowly, ah, he felt like a magician, and began to wonder if it had been he who had raised himself, if he had finally come into his own. Aye, it had to have been he who had climbed upward and begun to fly.
“He believed this, now smiling as he drew closer to the ground. He was warm again, feeling the blood course through him. He waved his arms about to change his direction. He changed direction. He laughed aloud with his marvelous discovery. Ah, there was nothing he couldn’t do now. The gods had granted him the power. He kicked his feet and rushed forward through the silent warm air, then slowed. He laughed aloud and set about to test his new abilities. But before he could wave his arms again or kick his feet, he fell like a stone the remaining short distance to the ground, as if he’d been released and thrown downward, landing at the feet of a large bearskin-clad man, a warrior, perhaps even aberserker,huge and strong, a mighty sword held in a bandaged hand.
“That warrior was Grunlige the Dane. His hands were still bandaged, but he seemed to hold that sword easily. He stood straight and tall, as proud as he had been before the tragedy had struck him. And he said, ‘You are Parma and you dared to touch my wife. Do you know what I will do to you?’
“Parma stared up at Grunlige, openmouthed in disbelief. He shook his head dumbly, unwilling to believe it was really Grunlige. It couldn’t be Grunlige. He gained courage. He said, his voice brash and arrogant, ‘You should be dead. You went off to die. Youaredead. You are merely some remnant of a man, some lost shadow that has yet to fade into oblivion. This is naught but your shell, for you are nothing, just a voice and an illusion propped up by the air that surrounds us. I have raided your holdings, stolen your cattle, and plundered your ships. You were not there when your men cried out for your help.
“ ‘Now we are far away from your homeland and mine. What is this place? Where are we? You cannot be Grunlige, for he stands not tall and proud anymore. He is pathetic, probably dead now by his own hand.’
“Grunlige stared down at him, unmoving, and smiled. ‘Shall I tell you, Parma, exactly what I am and where we are? What would you like to hear first, you vile coward?’
“ ‘I will fly away from you, and then I will come back and slay you!’ Parma jumped to his feet, flapped his arms, but nothing happened. He climbed atop a high rock and jumped off, flailing his arms wildly, kicking his feet. He heard Grunlige the Dane laugh, a laugh as wicked and frightening as a laugh from the Christians’ hell. Parma didn’t soar into the heavens, he fell hard once again at Grunlige’s feet. He screamed with rage, ‘It is the witch again! She has stolen my powers. Damn her for all time!’
“Grunlige said very softly, even as he raised his foot above Parma’s head, ‘Heed me, fool. You have no powers, only vanity and guilt and a stupid man’s arrogance. Now you will gain what you deserve.”’
Laren stopped. She smiled at the men and women and children, all of whom were staring at her, their attention focused solely on her. Cleve was smiling and nodding at her, Taby asleep on his lap.
“Continue,” Erik bellowed. “I grow tired of your waiting! Damn you, what happened? What did Grunlige do? Did he send his foot into Parma’s skull? Where in the name of the gods are they?”
She shook her head. “I am but a woman, my lord Erik, and must rest now. Forgive me. My brain and my throat are sore and need to recover. Perhaps by tomorrow night I will be able to continue.”
