Magnus turned the full force of his anger on her and she drew back from the harshness of his expression, the coldness of his voice. “You are a fine one to accuse another of faithlessness. You who gave yourself to Orm. You want to reproach Ragnar? He is a man, not a maid whose virginity represents the value she places on herself.”
“Did your precious Zarabeth come to you a virgin? She was wedded to an old man and he—”
“Hold your tongue, Ingunn, or I will grant Ragnar full permission to beat you now. We are speaking of you and why you call Ragnar a boor and a lout. Why?”
Ingunn rallied, for she had known Magnus all her life. His anger was swift to come and equally swift to dissipate. He was her brother, after all. “He treats me badly. He has always been rude toward me, always smirking at me.”
“You sound like a sullen spoiled child. You deserve to be treated badly.”
“He won’t listen to me. He doesn’t care how much I have suffered.”
“He shows wisdom. As for your suffering, you brought any suffering you have endured upon yourself. You twist things, Ingunn, and you refuse to see your own hand in your woes. Your tongue is tangled about itself.”
“Ragnar cares naught for me. He wants only to be allied with our family. He is vain and ambitious.”
“I don’t understand how he could care for you, but I shan’t doubt his word. I believe he shows a lack of good judgment, but it is his patience to be tested if he takes you, not mine, thank Odin. As for our family, why, I cannot imagine a man who would not wish to be allied with us.”
“I won’t have him! Father won’t make me take him. He cannot, it is not our way.”
“You will do as you are bidden this time, for you have grievously wounded our family. I will encourage our father to hand you over to Ragnar. I gave you no schooling at all, more fool I, but Ragnar will bring you to submission. He will teach you to temper your damnable tongue.”
Suddenly Ragnar was laughing, and both brother and sister looked at him with expressions so close it made him laugh all the harder. He went on laughing, more loudly, more deeply. Zarabeth stirred, came fully awake.
“What is it, Magnus?”
He frowned at the hoarseness of her voice, but she didn’t need any more anger, even though it was directed toward another. He leaned down and kissed her ear. “It is Ragnar. He fancies that he will beat Ingunn until she falls faint with love for him.”
“I cannot truly imagine that happening, Magnus.”
“I won’t have him!” Ingunn shrieked.
Ragnar stopped laughing. He released his horse’s reins, grabbed Ingunn about the waist, and turned her to face him. “Listen to me, you silly woman. Whom will you have if not me?”
Ingunn slapped him hard. He wasn’t expecting the blow and thus wasn’t prepared. Both of them nearly fell from his horse’s back. He thrashed until he regained his balance. He said nothing, merely stared at her. Ingunn tried to pull away. Then Ragnar smiled. He lifted her from the saddle and with one quick motion brought her over his thighs. He smacked her buttocks until she was squirming and screaming at him. He was laughing again, and his stallion was dancing wildly to the side. Ragnar paid no heed. With each smack he gave a dictum. “Ingunn, you will not gainsay me. You will obey me. You will sweeten your tongue. You will not flail me with it, but rather kiss me whenever I wish it. You will show me only winsome smiles. No more barbs will fly from your mouth.”
Magnus urged Thorgell forward. Zarabeth buried her face in his tunic. It astounded her how life could rebound in such wide sweeps, from terror to laughter to indignation to insults. Ingunn was still yelling and Ragnar was still smacking her and laughing and telling her what she would do. Magnus was warm against her and she knew that she would come back into life and share in its pain and its laughter. She knew she could not much longer seek only to slip away from life and watch it from afar, remaining untouched and isolated.
They rode in silence for some time, distancing themselves from the others. Occasionally they heard Ingunn’s sharp voice and more of Ragnar’s laughter, as well as loudly shouted comments from the men.
Magnus drew to a halt beside a small clear lake, loosening Thorgell’s reins so his stallion could drink. “Are you thirsty, Zarabeth?”
She was. They dismounted and she came down to her knees at the water’s edge, cupped her hands, and scooped up the cold water. It tasted wonderful in her raw throat.
“Better?”
“Aye,” she said, and rose, the sword clanging against her thigh.
Magnus stood looking over the viksfjord. “Egill is alive. I find it strange that I, a man of little imagination, dreamed he was alive, dreamed that he was also sold into slavery. Orm has much to answer for.”
“I am going with you.”
He turned abruptly on his heel to face her. She was standing there clothed only in his tunic, that ridiculous man’s belt hanging at her hips, the sword in its scabbard coming nearly to her foot. He smiled. “No.”
She paid him no heed. The only sign she gave that she had heard him was that her chin went up. He went to her and took her hand in his, drawing her against his side. “I will keep you safe this time. You will remain with my parents until I return.”
“Remain like a prisoner or a child with your parents? I have been a coward, Magnus, but no more. I must return with you to York. That is where we go, is it not?”
He shrugged.
