Laren didn’t say anything, but as she lifted her skirt, she smiled at the woman. Caylis sucked in her breath. “Your leg—it’s horrible!”
“Aye, I burned myself. I will show your lord Erik. Perhaps that will cool his ardor.”
Caylis just shook her head. “So you are Merrik’s mistress, just as I heard you tell Erik. Merrik is a beautiful man, I have many times remarked on it. Is he a good lover or does he just want you to pleasure him and watch whilst his face flushes with his own passion? Does Merrik care what you feel?”
Laren stared at her. Caylis laughed. “So, you haven’t bedded with him. Resign yourself, then. It is Erik who will have your virginity. It isn’t bad, if he is in a pleasant mood. If he isn’t, you will know much pain. Sometimes he enjoys pain, sometimes not. You will learn soon enough what it is he will want from you.
“It is a pity that Merrik has no power here now. Erik will grant him none. If Erik wants you, he will have you. Do you really make an excellent porridge? Sarla doesn’t. Come, then, for I am quite hungry.”
That night, replete with the delicious boar steaks that Laren had helped Sarla to prepare, Erik called for the end of the tale of Grunlige the Dane.
Laren thought first of the silver coins, then of what would come after. She knew that Erik would come to her tonight. She simply didn’t know what to do about it. First, she would tell her story, then she would decide.
She rose and rubbed her hands together, saying nothing until all attention was on her. “ ‘I will tell you who and what I am,’ Grunlige said, his foot poised over Parma’s neck. ‘I am still myself and none other. I am not a shade from the nether regions. I am flesh and bone, but I have gone beyond a mere man’s flesh and bones to a higher realm. But mistake me not, Parma, I am still myself and Selina is still my beloved wife. You see my hands are still bandaged. That was for you to remark upon and feel superior about.’
“Grunlige slowly unwrapped the bandages from his hands. Parma could but stare. No longer were Grunlige’s hands shriveled like claws, fingernails twisted and blackened. No, his hands were whole and clean and strong, and the sword handle fit well into his palm.
“‘Your witch wife, she brought you back,’ Parma gasped, so frightened now, he felt his bladder loosen and knew great shame for his fear.
“ ‘Nay, ’twas Odin All-Father,’ Grunlige said matter-of-factly. ‘He deemed me worthy, deemed my people worthy, and thus restored me. You are a fool, Parma, do you not recognize where you are?’
“Parma gazed about him, but he recognized nothing. Then he saw Selina walking toward them, her white robe flowing, her shoulders proud, her walk confident.
“ ‘You have gone nowhere, Parma. You are still here where you attacked my wife. Odin but played with you, teased you, and you were a fool. Now, what have you to say for yourself?’
“Parma thought furiously, and knew he had but one chance to keep his life. He said, ‘If you are truly a hero, if Odin All-Father truly deemed you brave and worthy, why then go perform a deed that would prove your greatness. Do not crush my neck with your foot. That would be nothing, it would be more the act of a coward. Aye, go, Grunlige, and prove yourself. Go in a vessel into the seas east of Iceland. Once again, shred the ice floes, once again, aye, and see if you are truly the gallant hero you believe yourself to be.’
“Selina cried out, ‘Listen not to him, Grunlige! His tongue is wily and he wants only to mock you, to make you lose your sense of what is right! Don’t heed him!’
“But Grunlige had lifted his foot from Parma’s neck. He stepped away from Parma, who didn’t move at all, who resembled a statue, so still did he lie. Grunlige gazed upward at the heavens. He threw back his mighty head and shouted, ‘Odin! Hear me, oh mighty lord of the heavens and of all warriors! I will go again to prove myself and when I return you must grant me what it is I deserve!’
“Suddenly, a great white flash of lightning streaked through the sky, turning the air itself to vapor. Again and again there was that sheer white filling the air, filling their lungs. It was followed by crash after crash of thunder that shook the ground itself. Selina fell to her knees, burying her face in her hands. Parma felt fear, but now he also felt hope. He stared at Grunlige.
“Grunlige was smiling. ‘I hear you, Odin. I go to prove myself yet again to you.’
“Before he strode away, he grasped Parma by the throat and hauled him upright. He shook him until Parma believed his neck would break apart from his body. Grunlige said, ‘If you touch my wife again or any of my belongings or any of my people, I will peel the flesh from your body. I will then fling you onto an ice floe and there your seeping blood will freeze and you will know more agony than a man can bear.’
“He strode to his wife, drew her to her feet and embraced her. Then he was gone, his shoulders straight and strong, his stride quick and sure.”
Laren stopped then, and smiled, first down at her clasped hands, then at each of her audience in turn.
“I will not accept this dithering,” Erik shouted at her. “Finish the damned tale! Finish it!”
She just shook her head.
It was Sturla, Erik’s huge warrior, who said now, “Nay, my lord, leave her be. I like this suspense, it teases my wits and makes me wonder what will happen next. Aye, perhaps tomorrow night she will continue the tale. Mayhap she will even finish it for us.”
Erik subsided. He sat in his lord’s chair, fingering the magnificently carved chair posts that had come through the family for two hundred years. The oak was smooth as silk with the many fingers that had stroked it, but the images of Odin and Thor and Frey were still clear, the expressions on their carved faces still sharp.
He waited, was content to wait. He watched Sarla dismiss the slaves, watched all the children herded off to the small sleeping chamber where they slept, watched his men and Merrik’s men roll themselves into blankets. He waited until all was nearly silent. He prepared to rise, but stopped. Merrik was walking to where Laren was lying near the fire pit, her blanket wrapped closely around her, Taby tucked in the curve of her belly. He came down beside her on his haunches.
He said low so as not to awaken Taby, “You are my concubine, I have heard said today. I think it is the only thing that might save you from my brother’s lust. You will give Taby to Cleve and come with me. We will sleep in my sleeping chamber.”
She stared up at him in the dim light cast by the dying embers. “Will you hurt me?”
“I will look at your leg and at your back and probably apply more healing cream to both. Then we will see.”
“I don’t want you to see,” she said. “I don’t want to be your concubine, Merrik, ’tis just that I could think of nothing else to say.”
