“That is not true! Where did you hear this, sire?”
Arnulf poked her in her ribs. “Watch your tongue, stupid wench!”
“Hold,” the king said, lifting a beringed hand. “Leave her be, our good Arnulf. She deserves to know all the proof against her, then perhaps she will beg and plead for forgiveness. Now, girl, I heard it from the man you encouraged, then scorned, for you could not be certain that he would give you all that you wanted. Aye, I have it from Magnus Haraldsson that you are a perfidious, faithless wench who, in our view, decided to make Olav jealous, and thus prodded him until he promised to wed with you. And then you dismissed the man who wanted you and promised you all his loyalty and his wealth. And thus there will be no consideration for you. Olav’s son deserves his father’s possessions, not a young wife who wedded him only to gain his wealth, a young woman who eagerly turned away another man, a young man with true honor, and taunted him with her decision in full view of York’s citizens so his humiliation would be all the greater.”
Zarabeth stopped thinking, nearly stopped breathing, for as the king spoke, the deep crimson silk curtain behind his chair parted, and Magnus came through to stand beside Guthrum. He stared at Zarabeth and she saw the coldness in his eyes, the loathing for her in his heart. She felt shock at the sight of him, an instant of wild hope, then despair. Only he could have told the king these things.
“It isn’t true,” she heard herself say in a low whisper.
“Well, girl, speak if you would, for I would have this done and punishment meted out!”
“Olav made me dismiss Magnus! He forced me to do it!”
“And how did he do this?”
“He threatened to kill Lotti, I swear it!”
Keith yelled, “’Tis a lie, a damnable lie! My father loved the little girl, gave her all that she wished to have. He favored her and played with her. Zarabeth killed him and now she lies! My father was a sainted man. Never would he threaten a child!”
The king said aught for several minutes. Then he turned slowly to Magnus and said something in a low voice. Zarabeth waited, so terrified that she couldn’t have moved in any case. She saw Magnus lean down and reply to a question.
Then slowly Magnus straightened and looked directly at her. He said nothing. Then he smiled as the king rose and said, pointing a finger at Zarabeth, “Your punishment for murder should be death, but Magnus Haraldsson, a young man of good faith and fine family, has convinced me otherwise. You, Zarabeth, who could have once been his wife and lived a life of honor, are now his slave to do with as he pleases. If he pleases to kill you, then so be it. If he pleases to beat you until you are senseless, then so be it. Go with your master and never again return to the Danelaw, for death awaits you here if ever you return.”
“No,” Zarabeth said, “no.”
She stood still as Magnus strode toward her, his face set and cold, nothing but contempt in his eyes.
10
Magnus stared at her from behind the crimson curtain. He felt such pain he thought he’d choke on it. As he watched her, his pain cleansed itself into pure anger. Even though she was dirty, her hair straggling down about her face, her gown torn at the shoulder where someone had ripped off a brooch, still, she looked proud and unbending.
By Odin, he had missed her, had dreamed of her more nights than he could remember now, for she always seemed to be there with him, in his mind, soft beneath his hands and whispering his name only the way she could; and yet she was naught but a fraud, the woman who had played him for a fool, the woman who had betrayed him.
He listened to her speak, so impassioned she was, and felt the pain return in full measure, but not with pity or longing for her, but with building rage. She had wronged him. She deserved to suffer for it, and she would.
When he came out to stand beside King Guthrum, when she saw him, he thought she would faint. For an instant he thought he saw joy in her expressive eyes, and hope... nay, it was surprise and chagrin he saw, for he was here now, to face her. It was guilt too, he realized, for what she’d done to him, perhaps even a moment of remorse.
Had she killed Olav?
He hadn’t wished to believe it, had initially dismissed it as absurd, but the witnesses were many and their words rang true to his ears and to the king’s ears as well. They reported how Olav had told all of his love for the little girl, how Olav had wanted Zarabeth and the little girl to be protected and thus he wedded with her, how Olav had planned to give Zarabeth all upon his death because of her hold on him. Did that make her guilty of murdering him? Did that mean she had turned Olav away from his own son? Evidently most believed so.
But then, many witnesses also spoke of Zarabeth’s kindness, her care of Olav during his illness, and her love for her little sister. Still, he found himself looking again and again at Keith and Toki. Again he found himself going over Zarabeth’s story in his mind, and he looked toward Toki. The woman’s eyes were lowered now, modestly, her mouth a tight line, but he felt something malignant about her, something that was cold and unwholesome.
Not that it really mattered to him. He was glad Olav was dead, truth be told. The man was no longer Zarabeth’s husband and she was free now to be whatever he, Magnus, wished her to be. He had come in time to save her, and that should have amused him. He, the man she’d betrayed, saving her. Aye, there was humor in that. But when he tried to find the humor, he failed. The thought that if he had been just several days later she would have been dead made him nearly double over at the empty blackness her death would bring him. But he refused to dwell on that. No, what would happen now would give him pleasure, great pleasure. She would get the punishment she deserved.
He realized in a moment of truth that what he blamed her for, what enraged him to the point of near-senselessness, what he wanted to punish her for until she was pleading with him, was not the poisoning of her husband, but her betrayal of him, her humiliation of him, her freely given pain to him.
He nearly rubbed his hands together at the pleasure of his revenge on her. She was alive and the king had agreed he could have her. He had paid Keith the danegeld for Olav’s life, an amount of gold that wasn’t all that great after all, for, strangely enough, Keith had seemed anxious that Zarabeth not be killed for her act. His wife, Toki, had carped and yelled and screamed at him, but he’d stood firm.
Now Zarabeth was his slave. He could do with her whatever he wished to. He thanked Guthrum once again, then turned to walk toward her. He wanted to see the fear in her eyes, see her shrink back from him because of the lies she’d told him, because now she was whatever he dictated that she would be. He wanted to see her pale; he wanted to see her cower. Instead, to his surprise, her shoulders straightened even more and that damned pride of hers radiated outward like a shield.
He met her then, halting but inches from her, and he said low, “Justice has been served. You are mine now, completely mine. We are leaving on the morrow.”
Zarabeth felt the room darkening, felt the floor tilt toward her. She was going to faint, she realized, astounded, and the knowledge made her blink and shake herself. She looked up into his face, the beloved face that she had held close in her mind since the first morning he had come to her. She would make him understand. She had to.
“There is no justice in this instance, but there seems to be nothing I can say to change that. Very well, I’ll come with you.” She would not thank him for saving her life, for it seemed to her that his words to King Guthrum had made her look all the more guilty.
Magnus frowned. Somehow he hadn’t expected her to bend to his demands so quickly.
