He flung her arm away then and strode back to his table. His brother Mattias merely arched a thick blond brow at him. As for his father, Harald, he was laughing, huge gulping laughs that made Magnus flush. He wanted the interminable meal to be done with. He saw Cyra approaching him, her eyes narrowed, for she had witnessed what he had done, and he knew that he would have to speak to her soon. She was bearing a huge tray of baked beef smothered with cumin and juniper berries and mustard seeds and garlic. It smelled delicious, but Magnus had lost his appetite.
Cyra served him, her smile deep and warm. He looked away from her. His mother said, “Cyra, come here. I wish more meat.”
The evening continued. Magnus presented his mother with a beautiful carved jewel box he had traded several soapstone bowls for in Hedeby. He gave it to his father’s runemaster to carve his mother’s name on the bottom of it. He gave his father a silver arm bracelet, thick and heavy and finely carved. Soon the singing began. Then Horkel, a master skald, began the story of a girl who managed to wed an old man only to poison him when he tried to bed her. Magnus tried to catch Horkel’s eye. To his relief, Horkel neatly shifted the focus of the story and the girl ended up a slave in Miklagard, in an Arab’s harem.
There were jests to be told then, but Magnus simply could not keep his mind on the revelry. He saw Zarabeth make her way to where Lotti was sitting alone, for the women had taken the other children and put them to bed. They hadn’t touched Lotti. He felt anger burn in his gut but knew there was no logical reason for it.
Zarabeth picked up the drowsing child, only to look around. It was clear she did not know what to do.
Magnus rose and tried to make his way with great nonchalance toward her. “Zarabeth,” he called out quietly. “Lotti will remain here in the longhouse. Let me show you where she will sleep.”
Her relief was evident, but she only nodded. Magnus led her to the far end of the hall, where there were small chambers, partitioned off from each other on either side of the longhouse, leaving a narrow corridor in the middle. “In here,” he said. Inside the small chamber was a single large box bed upon which lay four young children. They were sleeping soundly. “Here,” he said, and neatly picked up one child after the other, pushing them more closely together. He lifted the woolen cover and held it silently until Lotti, smiling sleepily up at both of them, closed her eyes.
“Thank you,” Zarabeth said, not looking at him.
“You would not be pleased if she slept in the slave hut and you slept here.”
She looked up at him then, but remained mute.
“Aye, Zarabeth, you will sleep in my bed tonight, and any other night it pleases me to have you there.”
14
“You have Cyra. She’s beautiful and she wants you. Why would you want me?”
Suddenly, without warning, Magnus ran his fingers through his hair, standing it on end, and he cursed long and fluently. Then he had to laugh at himself. He’d clearly lost his head and forgotten the circumstances. He said aloud, “It is a feast night, and all will remain here until the morrow. My parents, aye, they will have my bed.” He laughed again, shaking his head at himself.
“You will not make Lotti leave, will you?”
He heard the fear in her voice and it angered him more than he could ever have imagined. “Don’t you care about yourself? Of course Lotti will remain where she is. Come, now, you have tasks to do. Tonight you will sleep wrapped in a blanket in the hall.” He sighed again as if he were sorely put upon, and she had an odd urge to laugh.
Ingunn put Zarabeth to scrubbing wooden plates and bowls and iron pots and spoons, which she did willingly, for it kept her to herself and away from the men. When she heard a woman’s voice, she didn’t at first attend. The woman said again, “Your name is Zarabeth?”
Zarabeth looked up to see Helgi, Magnus’ mother. Her face was flushed from the warmth of the hall and the wine she’d drunk. Zarabeth looked closely, but she saw no meanness in her fine blue eyes. Zarabeth remembered Magnus telling her about how his mother rocked and shook the huge butter churn. There had been love in his voice when he’d spoken of Helgi. She was a large woman, deep-bosomed, her hair silver, it was so light. She had a deep cleft in her chin, which she’d given to her son.
Zarabeth nodded.
“I have listened to Magnus’ men telling all about how he saved you from a certain death, for you had murdered your husband.”
“He saved me, that is true.”
“The other is not true?”
Zarabeth shook her head wearily. “No, it isn’t, but it matters not. He won’t ever believe me.” She shook back her damp hair and bared the slave collar. “I am nothing to him now. Nothing save a slave.”
Helgi sucked in her breath. She hadn’t seen the collar before, for the woman’s hair was long and the neck of her gown high. Why had Magnus done such a thing to this woman? “Why did he save you?”
“I believe he wanted revenge.”
“Mother! Leave her be. Don’t listen to her. She doesn’t ever speak the truth.”
Helgi turned to her Magnus. “It isn’t true that you bought her to gain revenge?”
“It matters not why I bought her! She is here, and here she will remain.”
“Yes, that is true,” Zarabeth said, her voice loud. “I have no choice, for so long as he holds my little sister, there is naught I can do.”
Magnus forgot his mother was standing in front of him. Furious, he grabbed her wrist, jerking her close to him. “You will not say that again, damn you! I have told you that Lotti will never be a lever for me to use, for anyone to use. The child is under my protection.”
