He wasn’t pleased; it was a vast understatement. Magnus wondered just what he was to do with a writhing woman beneath him, a sex that hurt him so that he thought he would die with it, and a small girl striking him with all her strength. He suddenly laughed, at himself, at the ridiculous situation. He gave it up; his need dwindled as the ashes on a summer hearth. He released Zarabeth and quickly rolled off her, coming up on his knees, quickly covering himself.
Zarabeth hadn’t at first understood. Then she saw Lotti and realized that the child had thrown herself on Magnus. Lotti drew away from Magnus now, her eyes on her sister, tear streaks down her dirty cheeks. The child was terrified, but still she stood her ground between Zarabeth and Magnus, her mouth quivering, her small shoulders squared.
Zarabeth wanted to weep at the loyalty of her little sister. “Come, sweeting,” she said quickly, scrambling to her knees and holding out her arms, “’tis all right. I’m all right. Nay, don’t weep, and don’t be frightened. Magnus and I were just playing, aye, that’s it, playing, wrestling the way boys do, but he wanted to show me some of the moves he knew, nothing more. Come and let me hug you.”
She gathered the child to her, and soothing Lotti calmed her. She pressed the child’s head to her shoulder and looked up at Magnus, who sat cross-legged not two feet from her. He was still breathing heavily, but had himself well in hand now. She watched a strange smile curve his lips as he said, “Aye, wrestling. Naught but a game, just as you told the child. Aye, but a game you will lose, Zarabeth, for I am your master in all things.”
“You are an animal,” she said clearly, and was surprised at the calm of her voice. “’Tis no game to you, but a savage contest of might. You are the stronger, so you think you can take what you want from someone weaker. You disgust me.” She looked away from him and continued stroking Lotti’s back and whispering soft sounds to her.
His mouth tightened and he felt the familiar burning anger at her twist in his belly. But now wasn’t the time. He waved his hand at the child. “What is wrong with her? She makes strange noises. Is she half-witted?”
“No, she is without hearing.”
Magnus looked disbelieving. Suddenly he reared up on his knees and clapped his hands loudly at the back of Lotti’s head. The little girl didn’t move. He looked perplexed, then sat back again.
“Was she born this way?”
“Nay, Olav struck her when she was but two years old. She was unconscious for two days after, and when she awoke, she was without hearing.” She paused, remembering her fear, her fury at Olav. “I wanted to kill him for what he’d done, for he didn’t even care. She could have died and it wouldn’t have touched him. To excuse what he did, he pretended she was a half-wit, and that is what he told others.”
“You did get your revenge on Olav,” he said, then immediately added, “She says your name, but it’s in a slurred way.”
“Aye, she could say several things before he hit her. And since she knows some sounds and some meanings of things, with patience, she can learn to speak more words.”
“You should have told me this.”
She stared at him, amazement, contempt, writ clear on her face. “Why? So that you could have planned your brutality with more craft? So that you would have but another weapon to use against me?”
“I would not use a child against any man.”
“Aye, but I’m not a man, merely a woman.”
“Nay, you’re a slave first, and then a woman.”
She looked down, not responding to him. What was the use? She patted Lotti and spoke quietly to her, pulling away so she could see the child’s face. It was as if she no longer recognized that he was there. She’d simply retreated from him, withdrawn into herself. It enraged him.
“If the child cannot hear, how came she to enter in here?”
Zarabeth didn’t bother to look up. “I do not know. I suppose that she saw you come in and pull the skins down. She is afraid of you. She sought only to protect me. I ask that you do not hurt her.”
“I have told you before that I do not harm children.”
“That is a lie. I know of Vikings such as you, and of your raids and the fighting madness that consumes all of you. You kill without reason and with no hesitation. King Alfred must continually fight you to keep his lands intact and his people from slaughter.”
He was silent for a moment, for that was true. He shrugged then. “It is our way. Sometimes things happen that are not what I would wish. But it is the way such things are. Why do you feel pity for Alfred? He is naught to you, a chimera, a fable with no substance, spoken of by unhappy Saxons over their fires during winter nights. If Alfred were their king, he would abuse them endlessly. Guthrum is your king and their king and your dead husband’s king. Your loyalty is to a Viking, not to the Saxon king.”
She shrugged. “I hate all of you, truth be told, your senseless violence that leaves people dead or broken or slaves. All of you are savages, and I doubt not that the noble Alfred is just as savage as are you. You are right about that.”
“Now you are the slave of a savage. I will hear no more of your plaints.”
“I do not wish you to rape me.”
“I don’t particularly wish to force myself on you, but I will if you so foolishly continue to fight me. If you do, your pain will be but worse. I care not about your pain, but perhaps you will wish to think about it. I will take you, Zarabeth, make up your mind to it. What you want, what you feel now, make no difference to me. You are still a maid, are you not?” He did not wait for her to answer, merely spoke his thoughts aloud. “You were stretching around my fingers. Aye, no man has been inside you yet. So, you wed with an old man... perhaps you knew he couldn’t take you and that you would not have to suffer him mauling you? Aye, or is it true that you began to poison him the very day you wedded him so you wouldn’t have to suffer him in your bed? That he would not have the strength?”
“You speak with the voice of a mindless savage. Aye, it smacks of such truth, does it not? That I would prefer an old man to wed with rather than become your wife?” Her voice was weary and mocking and he wished he had simply kept quiet. “Aye, look at what I would have gotten had I not been so stupid... a strong man, so tender and gentle that he will rape an unwilling woman. All those wondrous words you spoke to me, they were lies, naught but a Viking’s savage lies.”
He rose suddenly to his feet, towering over her. “I did not lie! I would have loved you and guarded you with my life, I would have given you all that I was, all that I owned, but you chose that old man. Oh, aye, you murdered him, Zarabeth, of that I am certain. You see, I heard all the witnesses before you even came into King Guthrum’s chamber. They all said the same thing, that you wanted the old man’s wealth, that you knew you could control him, for he desired you and had even granted you all his earthly goods upon his death. Mock me no more.”
He left the cargo area. She sat there still holding Lotti close, not moving now, frozen, wishing that somehow she could die but knowing that she couldn’t, for there was Lotti, her brave little sister. She heard no man’s laughter from without. Surely they would have guessed what had happened. She heard naught of anything. She held Lotti closer and rocked her back and forth. The child had saved her this time. And the next time? Magnus would never make such a mistake again. She knew too that he would have his way eventually. Again she was without choices.
