Merrik interrupted him smoothly, “And what if they tired of waiting and poisoned you, sire, or William?”
Weland said, his wide brow lowering, “Aye, ’tis likely what they would have done, you have the right of it, Merrik Haraldsson. Otta has spoken about that as well. He is forever worrying that Rollo and William will be poisoned. He many times tastes Rollo’s food before he allows him to eat.”
“Aye,” Rollo said, laughing. “Then he hies himself to the privy as if he had really just eaten the poison.”
Merrik grinned, then grew quickly serious. “What do you wish to do, sire?”
Suddenly Rollo smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. It was filled with rage and intelligence and determination. Merrik saw in him the immense strength of will and the unending ambition that had made him a man above men, that had led him into more battles than any man should survive, ah, but Rollo had not only survived, he’d conquered an entire land and was now its ruler. And, Merrik thought, he would rule until the gods determined his time had finally come to an end, then his son would rule, his grandson after him. He saw this, believed it, and prayed it would be true.
21
ROLLO KEPT HERclose, always within his reach—his hand on her shoulder, lightly touching her face, squeezing her fingers. And he marveled at how she’d become a woman, of what she’d endured, how she’d survived, keeping both herself and Taby alive, how very proud her father, Hallad, would be... His thoughts stopped there, he always forced them to stop, for life continued, so many times in unexpected ways, and in this case he’d won, he’d changed damnable fate. He grasped Laren’s wrist and frowned as he felt the still prominent bones.
They’d eaten in Rollo’s private chambers, a sumptuous meal that made even Merrik sigh in contentment. Neither Otta nor Weland were present. Merrik had yet to meet Otta. “Laren is a good cook, sire, but I’m not certain if she could best this.”
“The venison is beyond delicious,” Laren said. “Nay, husband, I fear my skills do not exceed what you have already eaten by my hand.” Her uncle was looking appalled, and she added quickly, “One of my owners, an old woman, taught me to cook. I learned well.”
Rollo said slowly, “It is almost more than I can comprehend. My niece a slave. There is knowledge in your eyes, Laren, and sadness, but more than that I also see the happiness there brought to you by this man.”
This man was looking at the two of them. He smiled. “I have tried, sire, to please her. Did you know she is a skald?”
Rollo stared at her in some amazement.
“Aye,” Laren said. “It was my plan to gain silver from the telling of my stories, and buy Taby’s and my freedom from Merrik. However, I had no idea how I would return to you even if Taby and I were free. There was Cleve, of course. He had to come with us.”
“Cleve,” Rollo repeated. “Tell me about this Cleve.”
When Laren had finished, Rollo said, “Send him to me. I will see that he never wants again in his life.”
“He is now free,” Merrik said. “He told me that he wanted to stay in Norway.”
Rollo frowned at that, for in his long experience any man offered a chance to come to him would have murdered his own brother to gain it. He said, “He doesn’t know yet what I have to offer him.”
“There is a woman, my lord,” Laren said and Rollo sighed, throwing a meaty pheasant bone to one of the huge hunting dogs who were surprisingly calm and quiet.
Rollo said, as he took a handful of honeyed walnuts, “Tell me about the old woman who taught you to cook.”
And she did, the story coming alive, for she was a spellbinder, and when she told of the old woman tasting her seasoned onions baked in honeyed maple leaves with peas, Merrik could nearly taste it himself, at this very moment.
Rollo would never have enough, Laren thought, as he said now, “Tell me about this merchant Thrasco who bought you.”
She did, her voice curt now, and she left out the beating, but Merrik wouldn’t allow it.
“He believed her a boy, sire,” Merrik said, his voice hard and rough. “He was going to give her to Khagan-Rus’s sister, Evta, a woman who liked boys. Laren was frantic to get back to Taby and thus she spoke with insolence to him. He beat her quite savagely. Fortunately he did not discover she was a girl.”
“But you saved me, Merrik,” she said, seeing the red flush on her uncle’s face, seeing the gnarled blood lines that veined his neck swell and pulse. She wouldn’t ever want to be his enemy.
“Nay, not really. I merely caught you.” He wanted Rollo to understand the horror she had endured, but he didn’t want him so enraged he wouldn’t listen to reason. He said now to Rollo, “She had managed to escape Thrasco’s compound when I came along to rescue her. She’d already rescued herself. She is of your seed, sire, she would never give up.”
Rollo laughed, thank the gods, he finally laughed, Laren thought.
“She is a woman to reckon with,” Merrik said when Rollo had become still again.
Laren didn’t stare at Merrik, though she wanted to. Did he really believe these wondrous things he was saying about her to her uncle? He’d never said naught about her being a woman to reckon with.
“She always was, even as a little mite,” Rollo said. “I knew she could tell stories—but a skald! It is an amazing thing.”
Their talk went on into the late hours. Rollo wanted every incident, every detail of the past two years. Finally, Weland was allowed into the chamber. He said, “Sire, we must speak of other things. By tomorrow, Helga and Ferlain will have heard about these guests and wonder about them. Even now there are scores of questions about the twenty Vikings who are now here and treated well by you. Aye, they’re not stupid. And their husbands have men loyal to them, doubt it not, particularly Fromm. I know he pays dearly for his traitors.”
