Ragnar worsened that day despite the poultice Helgi prepared for his wound. His body burned and he spoke of strange things, of memories from long ago, Magnus said. Zarabeth remained at his side, bathing him with a cool wet cloth, praying hard. By the following evening, he was still and Helgi was saying, “He sleeps. I think he will live.”
Zarabeth rose, so relieved she could shout. Just as suddenly, she felt the ground tilting upward, felt herself swaying as if pushed by unseen hands. She felt light-headed. She collapsed where she stood.
As darkness closed over her mind, she heard Magnus shout. She wished she could speak to him, but there was only blackness now, shrouding her mind, and she succumbed to it.
“It must be exhaustion,” Harald said, looking down at his daughter-in-law, held in his son’s arms. Magnus was sitting in his master’s chair, which was in splendid isolation, Zarabeth in his lap.
“Aye, I should not have let her work so hard, not after her ordeal at Orm’s hands.”
“Nonsense,” said Helgi. “Zarabeth is no frail little female. That is not it at all.”
“What is it, then, woman?”
Helgi smiled at her husband’s intolerant tone. “You cannot bear not to know everything, can you, Harald?” she remarked as she patted Zarabeth’s forehead with a wet cloth. “You men must always have the last word, the last right word about everything. Well, this time you don’t.”
“Woman, I swear I will discipline you if you do not mind your tongue!”
Had Magnus not been so worried, he would have laughed. The thought of his father raising his hand to his wife was ludicrous. Helgi was smiling, knowing her husband as well as did Magnus.
“So what is wrong with the girl?” Harald finally asked. “Since you are the all-wise witch.”
“She is carrying Magnus’ babe.”
Magnus nearly dropped Zarabeth. He stared at his mother. “She is with child?”
“Aye, I imagine so. When she awakens I will question her. There are very simple signs, you know, my son.”
He sat there clutching his unconscious wife to his chest, thinking back, trying to remember when last she had suffered her woman’s bleeding. It was not too long before. It was when Lotti had drowned and Egill had disappeared. He stared up at his mother, who was smirking toward her husband.
He said slowly, “I am afraid.”
Helgi forgot her game with her husband. She knelt down beside Magnus’ chair and gently began smoothing Zarabeth’s thick hair from her face. The hair was soft and so very rich. She marveled at the color. Zarabeth’s brows were darker, a rich brownish-red, and her lashes were thick and the same shade as her brows. Her cheekbones were well-sculptured, her skin smooth and very white. Helgi thought of a little girl who would somehow look like her son and Zarabeth also, and shook her head at herself. “Why? She is not like Dalla, Magnus. You have known her well. Is not her belly wide, her bones well-spaced? Her hips are not narrow.”
“I don’t know. When I have looked at her, I had no thought of childbearing in my mind.”
His father laughed. “I can understand that. Married to this old woman here, though, it is difficult for me to remember such things.”
“Ha! There is more gray in your hair, old man, than in mine!”
Magnus looked toward the smoldering remains of his home, his mother’s laughter in his ears. No matter what seemed to happen in life, no matter how hateful, how sad, how awful things got, there always seemed to be something left, someone there, that made him want to continue. He lowered his head to Zarabeth’s forehead. He had seen her, decided he had wanted her, and given her wishes little or no thought at all. He had always been confident, so sure of himself and what he was. He had given her a large dose of what it was he wished to have, never doubting that he would have her. If she had purposely betrayed him, well, he had deserved it. As for his own behavior, he knew all he had brought her was unhappiness and pain and humiliation.
Now his child grew in her womb. It was terrifying, and yet, at the same time, he felt incredible joy. He felt the wet of his tears on his face.
When Zarabeth awoke, it was to see her husband’s face close to hers, and he was staring at her intently. “What happened to me? I don’t understand. I’m lying on you and—”
“You fainted.”
It was odd, but she was lying in her husband’s lap. Slowly she raised her hand and touched her fingers to his cheek. “Are these tears?”
“Aye.”
“But why? I was merely tired, mayhap overtired. Nothing more.” She grinned a bit unsteadily. “My life of late has been a bit exciting and just a bit unpredictable.”
He dipped his head down and kissed her lightly on her closed mouth. “Have you ever fainted before, Zarabeth?”
She shook her head. “I am not subject to such nonsense, Magnus.”
“That is what my mother said.”
