“Where is Orm Ottarsson? Does he know you are here? Does he know what you’re about?”
Ingunn eyed her nephew. The boy had changed. His voice sounded just like Magnus’—sharp and imperious, as if he were used to giving orders and she, as a woman, was to obey them. She was angry. She was saving him—by Thor, she’d sold her most valued brooch to get the coin—and yet he was acting like she wasn’t to be trusted, and she was of his flesh! “It isn’t important,” she said. “You will come with me now and I will see that you go home to Malek.”
“It is important,” Egill said. “Orm Ottarsson stole both Lotti and me. We were barely alive. I feared Lotti would die at any moment, for there was so much water in her chest and she couldn’t stop vomiting it up. But he didn’t care, not until he realized how he could use us. He brought us here to York and used us as a bribe to the king for the farmland he wanted. He was pleased with what he had done. If you bring me back to him, he will be very angry.”
“Nay, he won’t. Besides, you won’t see him.”
“He hates my father. I heard him talking about how he would see my father pay for all his pride and his arrogance, that he would make him regret that he had married my mother. He bragged how he would steal Zarabeth as well, and use her as he wished. He boasted he could plant a babe in her womb and then he would return her to my father. He hates all of us except for you. I don’t understand that.”
“What Orm feels for your father has nothing to do with me. He loves me. I am soon to be his wife. There’s nothing more for you to understand. Come now, we must leave. I have a vessel waiting for you.”
Egill planted his legs wide apart, his fists on his hips. He smiled at his aunt. “I have already told you, I won’t go anywhere without Lotti. Buy her as well and we will both leave here.”
“That cursed idiot child! She is naught but a pathetic scrap, a worthless slave. You didn’t like her, you never liked her! She stole your father’s affections. She can’t do anything save make those awful mewling noises. You will come with me now, Egill. Forget her.”
She grabbed his arm, but the boy merely stared at her, not moving. She shook him, but he held his place. He’d gotten stronger. He was no longer a little boy. Her breath hissed out when she saw the scorn in his eyes, his father’s eyes, and they were cold and unforgiving.
“You betrayed my father, didn’t you? You probably betrayed Zarabeth as well. You tormented her and abused her with that whip, and she had never done anything to hurt you. Is she here? Did Orm capture her as he vowed to do?”
Ingunn stepped away from him. “No, you stupid boy! That bitch is safe as can be at Malek. Malek is now hers! She is wedded to your father! How do you like that—she is now yourmother! By all the gods, she won!” Ingunn rubbed her palm over her forehead. “I was a witless fool to come here, risking my own life to save you. You ungrateful whelp, if he knew I was here, he would kill me!”
“At least I am not a traitor. If I had to die, I would not go to my death with shame or guilt heavy on my soul.”
“You little prig!” She slapped him hard. Egill’s head snapped back on his neck, but he held his place. He made no move against her. He planted his feet more firmly. He stared at her with contempt.
“Damn you, you’re free. I paid the king a lot of silver for you. It matters not to me whether you leave or not. I have tried to do my duty by you.” She whirled about, only to pause and turn slowly to face him once more. “Listen to me, boy. You know nothing, do you understand me? I was your father’s steward, his helpmeet, the one he could depend upon to take care of Malek. It was my farmstead as much as it was his! I was more than a wife could be, for I am flesh of his flesh. I oversaw everything at Malek, even his women, and yet he threw me away for that filthy whore. Ah, and there is that whore’s sister, that squalid little idiot! See how she cowers behind you, just as her slut sister cowered behind Magnus, telling him lies about me! Aye, and complaining that I had hurt her, mistreated her. All lies, everything she said was a lie. Stay with her sister, Egill, I care not!” She took an unmeasured step toward Lotti, her hand raised.
“Don’t,” Egill said. “Don’t touch her, Aunt, or I will make you pay for it. I am no longer a child. My father would want me to protect one who is weaker than I. Lotti is not only in my care, she is also mine.”
Ingunn stared at the boy. He meant it. He would very likely attack her, she who had cared for him after Dalla had died, she who had treated him like her own child. Suddenly it was too much. Tears came to her eyes and she sobbed. She turned on her heel and left the manor house, only to stop abruptly, unable to go on, though she wanted to. By Thor, would it never end? She paused yet again, furious with the boy, but she knew what she had to do, aye, she knew. She had no choice.
King Guthrum rubbed his fingers over the richly carved oak post of his chair and stared at Magnus Haraldsson. He’d agreed immediately to see the man. He liked him and trusted him, as far as he’d trust any man, and he was infinitely curious as to what he wanted.
“So,” he said slowly, his eyes on his fingers tracing over the elaborate carvings, “the boy is your get. I thought he looked familiar, as did Aslak. Aye, he has the look of you. His aunt bought him back from me and took him away. ’Twas yesterday she came. I assume he is gone now.”
“And a little girl? Her name is Lotti.”
“Aye, I recall the little one. The woman didn’t want her, though even my dear Cecilia knew she and the boy were inseparable. It is almost as if they acted as one. I assume she is still with my, er, niece Cecilia.”
Guthrum heard Zarabeth’s sharp intake of breath and turned to her.
“I recognize you now. You are the woman Magnus saved some months ago, the woman we believed had poisoned Olav the Vain. It is odd, aye, very odd indeed.”
“What do you mean, sire? And no, I did not poison my husband.”
“Aye, all know now that you were innocent of his murder. It was Toki, wife of Keith, Olav’s son, who killed him. She is dead now.” He rubbed his hands together, obviously pleased at the solution.
Magnus stared hard at the king, wondering at the vagaries of fate. If he hadn’t returned, Zarabeth would have been put to death for the crime and everyone would have been pleased and relieved, certain that justice had been meted out. Now Toki had been shown guilty and she was dead. By the gods, it was more than a man could explain to himself.
Zarabeth echoed some of his thoughts, her voice disbelieving. “Dead? Toki has confessed to what she did?”
King Guthrum shook his head. “Nay, ’twas her husband who told the council that it was she and not you who had killed his father. He said she confessed it to him when she was drunk. He beat her to death for it.”
Zarabeth moved closer to Magnus. He felt the quiver of her flesh, the withdrawal of her being from the coldness of the king’s announcement.
“Aye, Keith said she was a vicious shrew, filled with envy and malice. He said she deserved to die by his hand, for as her husband he was in part responsible for the evil of her act.” Guthrum nodded wisely, his countenance certain and benign. “I agreed with him, as did the York council. He prospers now and is gaining stature. He looks more like his father by the day. He begins to strut about wearing silver and gold armlets and many rings, and he wears only the finest clothes. He has taken a new wife, a lovely girl of fourteen who will bear him many sons. He has given me several gifts.”
Fate, Magnus thought again. Its workings eluded him, as they did all men. He took Zarabeth’s hand and squeezed her fingers as the king continued, his look one of a ruler endeavoring to be just. “I had forgot that Olav the Vain had said you were to receive all that he owned were he to die. Since you were innocent of his death, you should be recompensed.”
