“I have wondered,” Oleg said thoughtfully, staring into the dregs of his ale at the bottom of the cup. “Aye, I have wondered if perhaps Erik was struck down so that Laren would be blamed for it, that she was the object of the hatred, not Erik. What do you think, Deglin?” With those words, Oleg looked directly into Deglin’s eyes. The man looked at once feverish and pale, deathly pale.
“Some dislike her, don’t trust her,” Oleg continued. “You, Deglin, hate her above all others. Did she not take what was yours? You have been skald here for five long summers. And now you are nothing. Aye, she stripped you of what belonged to you. Did she not also abuse you, make you feel less the man? Did she not make Merrik burn you when she accidentally fell into the fire?”
“Aye,” Deglin shouted, pounding his fists to his skinny thighs. “Aye, she did. I’ll tell all of it now. I have protected Merrik with my silence. But now I will speak the truth. It is time the bitch got her comeuppance, her punishment for her crime. No more protecting this family. I owe them nothing.” He drew himself up, straightened his thin shoulders. There was a pleased glitter in his eyes. There was no drunken slur to his words now, no clumsy movements. It was as if he’d suddenly become miraculously sober. “I saw her strike down Erik. Then she saw what she’d done and she ran. Aye, she knocked herself unconscious, but she killed Erik nonetheless. I swear to it. I saw it all happen. It wasn’t to protect herself from his rape, for she wanted him, and after she’d had him, when he was sated and lulled, she struck him on his head, killing him. Aye, I saw it all, I saw her murder Erik and I will swear to it.”
At that moment, Laren appeared, her face pale as the raw wool on the loom. “Why do you lie, Deglin? Why?”
“You faithless bitch!” Deglin yelled and bounded to his feet. “You have ruined everything! I had prestige and respect until Merrik found you in the slave ring. You stole everything that was mine, everything! You killed Erik. I saw you kill him, strike him hard with that rock, when he was still on top of you, his sex still between your legs, his reason still swamped with his lust. Aye, you killed him after you whored for him just as you do for his brother. You killed him because you wanted Malverne. Will you kill Merrik as well?”
She just stared at him. The violence of his hatred was numbing. She wanted to tell him that the two of them could have both told stories, that there were surely enough people to listen to both of them. Instead, all that came from her mouth was, “Why do you hate me so much?”
“I should have killed you when I saw you lying there, aye, I should have—” Deglin rushed at her, his hands outstretched, curved inward, as if already digging into her throat.
Oleg rose slowly, hurling his cup to the ground. His right hand shot out and he grabbed Deglin by his neck, raising him slowly, staring at him even as Deglin scratched wildly at his hand to free himself. “You would strangle Laren, you puling snake? You lie,” Oleg said directly into Deglin’s face. “You lie and now I know it and Merrik knows it. You killed Erik because you wanted Laren blamed. She remembered you standing over her, and you were smiling in triumph, for you had just come down from killing Erik. You are a fool, Deglin. Your jealousy and your malice have twisted your mind.”
He dropped the skald, dispassionately watching his knees buckle as he thudded hard to the ground. He was panting to gain breath, his hands rubbing wildly against his throat. Oleg raised his foot, but Merrik said, “No, Oleg, ’tis enough.”
Deglin looked up and saw Merrik. He felt the weight of the trap, felt all he’d ever known crumbling around him. He tried to speak, to defend himself, but his throat was bruised and he could only make small mewling cries. The pain brought tears to his eyes. He felt as though he were collapsing in upon himself.
“He deserves to die, Merrik.”
“Aye, Oleg, he does. He murdered my brother, his motives so base, it borders on madness. Take him to the blacksmith’s hut and have Snorri chain him near the fire pit. Let him bake in his own sweat.”
“No! I didn’t kill Erik. Aye, ’tis true that I saw her lying unconscious there on the path, and I was pleased for I had seen that Erik was dead. But she must have killed him. I know that she did!”
Laren watched Oleg drag Deglin away, his hands still clawing at his bruised throat, still trying to speak.
“It is over.”
“Aye, now I will ask you, my skald wife, what shall I do with Deglin?”
She was silent, looking over his left shoulder to the rich barley fields and the several blackbirds that were eating the crop. She saw a slave banging an iron pan with a heavy stick, startling the blackbirds, sending them squawking into frenzied flight.
“Not only did he kill Erik, he did it for the most base of reasons.”
“Aye, ’tis true. But I do not understand him. Why didn’t he simply kill me? He had no hatred for Erik. Why?”
“Because I would have flayed the flesh from his back without even asking him a single question. He believed by killing Erik, you would be blamed and he would still gain what he wanted. He could sit back and laugh at all of us, watching us perform as he’d wanted.”
“I am very sorry about Erik.”
“Aye, to die to have another blamed. I miss him sorely. Now we have the guilty man. I have sent a messenger to my other brother, Rorik, on Hawkfell Island. He and his wife, Mirana, will come, I doubt it not. Answer me, Laren. What should I do to Deglin?”
She said slowly, “Perhaps I would send him to my uncle Rollo. Let him serve up justice and punishment.”
Merrik’s nostrils flared. “Aye, it would be fitting. Rollo would have Deglin ripped apart by four horses or he would have him hung upside down next to a wolf. Your uncle isn’t known for his clemency or his forgiveness.”
“No, he is not, particularly toward those who attempt to hurt those he loves. No Viking is known for clemency. I would kill him, but not so crudely.”
“And what would you do?”
“I think I would take him deep into the forest, give him a knife, and leave him. He is proud of his wits. Let him save himself if he can.”
“Perhaps he would save himself. I cannot bear for him to live. It would offend the gods and all our people.”
She sighed then. “You are right. Kill him.” She paused a moment, then added, “He didn’t really confess to killing Erik.”
“He killed my brother.”
