“I promise it be only us two in here, my lady,” the girl continued. “I be Gerdy. Thy new slave from mighty Jarl Fridrik. I am your wedding gift.”
It was all Adellis could do not to react. But she remained motionless, keeping her breathing slow and even. Jarl Fridrik? A wedding gift? Apparently, Alrek had bartered her off again. Damn him and his incessant plotting.
“I pray my lady lives longer than my previous mistresses,” Gerdy continued in a hesitant whisper. “Whenever my mistresses die, I am charged with providing Jarl Fridrik with one of my fingers as punishment for failing to heal them of the wounds from his bed play.” A soft sound, something akin to a shuddering sigh, accompanied a chilling sensation across the wetness of Adellis’s bare shoulders. Whatever poultice covered her back had just been refreshed. “Two mistresses along with two of my fingers have been taken from me so far. I know not how many went before Jarl Fridrik’s guard captured me at Akranes.”
Akranes? Gerdy was from Iceland. Adellis struggled not to react. If Gerdy came from Iceland, Jarl Fridrik was none other than the odious Fridrik Gustaffson. A man known for his cruelty and penchant for torturing his wives until they died. The man collected them like trophies. She couldn’t remember the last count she heard. Alrek had always admired the man and the dark rumors surrounding him. The only difference in the two was that Alrek had yet to take a wife and follow in Fridrik’s footsteps.
She could tell by the brightness shining through her closed eyelids that, wherever she lay, a multitude of candles, torches, and lanterns glowed. Although Gerdy appeared to be a victim in this cruel game, too, Adellis wouldn’t put it past her brother to have staged this display for all to enjoy, and the girl was but one of the players. She had witnessed such behavior in him before.
An odd whooshing of air fanned around her as though someone forced it across her. She tried not to snort at the sickening fragrance hitting her full in the face. For an aroma to be so stout, they couldn’t be in the large, tented amphitheater Alrek ordered erected upon their arrival on Mull. Unlike theGallóglaigh, her brother delighted in taking prisoners for cruel entertainment. Nay. They had to be in a much smaller enclosure, and Gerdy’s heavy use of the incense made the air of the place chewable.
“I swear I will help my lady escape if you take me as well or end my suffering with a blade. I beg you, my lady.”
Unable to harness her curiosity any longer, Adellis risked cracking open an eyelid. From what little she could see, they were in a small enclosure, perhaps one of the compact tent lodges used for steam bathing. A long, shallow ceramic bowl rested on a short-legged table beside the low platform on which she lay. It was filled with wide strips of some kind of dark green substance that floated in a congealed-looking liquid. A pair of small hands came into view, selected one of the strips, and smoothed the stickiness off it. A clear ooze slithered down the length of the greenness and glopped back into the bowl. Then renewed wetness cooled her back, refreshing the numbing sensation provided by the strange poultice.
She decided the strips were some sort of leaves, then dismissed the thought. The girl’s left hand held her interest. The slave hadn’t lied. If Gerdy ever wished to, she wouldn’t be able to wear a ring on the usual finger, nor on the smaller finger next to it. Both were missing. Adellis lifted her head and opened her eyes fully, turning to discover the wisp of a girl tending her. The pitiful slave was nothing but skin-covered bones, made to look even more frail and deathlike with a shaved head and dark soot painted around her eyes.
“How long have I been here?” Adellis asked as she pushed herself upright. The remnants of the poison still weakened her but moving would help drive the toxins away.
“It is nearly dawn of the third day.” Gerdy scrambled up on the platform beside her and gently peeled the muck off her back. She dabbed away the remaining wetness with a soft linen.
“What is that?”
“Kelp…and other things. It draws out the poison and heals.” A stark hopelessness filled the girl’s tone, making her speech almost painful to hear.
Adellis turned and caught hold of Gerdy’s wrist. “If you let them take away your hope and your spirit, they will defeat you.”
“Then I am defeated, my lady.”
“It cannot be.” Adellis gave her an encouraging nod. “You bargained to help me escape. That speaks of hope and spirit that remains.”
Gerdy’s mouth twitched as though trying to remember how to smile. “How? Where would we go?”
“Anywhere is better than here. Would you not agree?”
“Yes.” The girl rose, went to a door flap Adellis hadn’t noticed, and listened. Even in her emaciated state, she appeared brighter. “No one stirs yet.” She pointed at the bowl of kelp, then at the smoking brazier in the corner. “Once your body purges all of Jarl Alrek’s poison, I have orders to tell the guards you are ready for sentencing and the ceremony.”
“What has the pompous fool planned for me this time?” Adellis managed to stand, stretching and demanding her muscles to awaken and come alive.
“You are to be given the choice of marriage to Jarl Fridrik or death by nailing to the Tree of Woe.”
“The Tree of Woe is on Normandy’s shores.” Had Alrek’s madness robbed him of his sense of direction?
“I heard Jarl Alrek boast that any tree on this Isle could be made into the Tree of Woe.” Gerdy scurried back from the doorway and rubbed down Adellis’s back, legs, and arms until a vibrancy tingled across her flesh. Tossing the cloth aside, she scooped out a handful of a thick white paste from a small crock and massaged it in until it disappeared, leaving behind a healthy glow. “He has even offered to allow his archers to make sport by using you as a target.”
“How generous of him.”
Gerdy’s sooty eyes rounded even wider. “You do not fear him?”
“My hunger for revenge has driven out any fear I once had. I refuse to be Alrek’s amusement ever again.” She stumbled to the tent flap, fighting against the heaviness plaguing her limbs. Peering at the night, she made out nothing at first. Only an eerie darkness, layers of shadows, some darker, some lighter, but all an otherworldly black. Only the occasional flickering of a torch could be seen floating through the fog beyond the enclosure. “It is too quiet. Neither he nor his slaves ever sleep. Where is he?”
“Gone to finish those who took you. Then on to the castle to raze it to the ground for the last time.” Gerdy wiped her hands on the rough cloth she wore swaddled around her body like a wrap for the dead. “It is said he saves you for last. As part of his victory celebration. Jarl Fridrik’s guard is due to arrive within days to fetch you. Then you will be required to make your choice.”
“Gone to finish those who took me,” Adellis repeated, disregarding everything else the girl had said. Thorburn. Her Scottish bear. Alrek would not fight him with honor. He hunted down those he hated. Preyed upon them. She feared Thor, her mighty warrior, would not be prepared for the sort of devilry her brother possessed. Her Scottish bear would fall.
“Does your breast pain you, my lady?”
“What?” Adellis stared at the girl. “Why would you ask such a question?”
