“You hired them to destroy the Ó Reilly clan. Isn’t that right?” Trahern stood and walked towards her, using his height to intimidate her. “Their homes burned, lives lost. The woman I intended to marry was killed. Because of you.”
Katla covered her face, sobbing now. “I never wanted this to happen.”
“Then what did you intend?” Trahern’s face was stony, his tone unforgiving.
“They acted of their own accord. I never hired them for that,” she insisted.
Her hysteria was so strong, Morren almost believed her. She tried a different tack. “How would you have even met those men?” she asked. “They live so far away.”
“They came here to trade last spring,” Katla said, her voice breaking on a sob.
“Did Dagmar—“ Trahern began, but Morren cut him off.
“No.” She stared at Trahern, shaking her head. “Let her finish.”
An unexpected memory came to her, one she’d put aside for so many months. “You had a daughter, didn’t you? She was about Jilleen’s age?”
Katla’s face tightened into sobbing. She nodded once, then buried her face in her hands.
“Our chief spoke with her a time or two,” Morren remembered. “I remember when a few of you came to see us. He seemed fond of her.” Understanding pushed past her own fury, for she realized what Katla had done.
“Our chief was too old for her, wasn’t he?” Morren whispered. “He gave her more attention than he should.”
“He hurt her,” Katla wept. “My daughter, who had never done anything wrong. She was just back from fostering, and we’d had so little time together. That bastard took her innocence, and he threatened to kill her if she ever told anyone. But she did. She told me, her mother, knowing that I would make it right.”
Katla’s hands clenched into fists. “I found her body lying in the field a few days later. And I swore I would kill him for what he did to my child.” Her eyes glittered with wildness, and Morren reached for Trahern’s hand. His steady palm granted her comfort.
“After Dagmar met with the raiders, I came to them with coins I took from my grandfather’s hoard. I begged them to kill the Ó Reilly chief. I told them they would find the rest of the coins in the souterrain after they completed their task.” Her sobs caught in her throat. “That way, they would have to go there. But I never thought they would kill innocent people. They acted of their own will, burning the homes and taking other lives.” She sat down, resting her head between her hands.
“I thought about ending my own life, after I learned what happened. But then, who would look after Hoskuld and our other children?” She raised reddened eyes to look at each one of them. “All I can do is atone for it. I can’t ever forgive myself. And I won’t ask you to.”
Morren reached out for her sister Jilleen and hugged her tightly. Then she glanced at Trahern, whose face was unreadable.
“I believe you,” he said at last. “It does not release you from your guilt, but I understand why.”
“I don’t want to be exiled,” Katla said. “But I always knew I would have to meet my punishment.”
Hoskuld returned at that moment. At the sight of her husband, Katla grew stricken. Gunnar relayed the tale, explaining to his brother what had happened.
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” Hoskuld demanded. “You knew who had harmed her, and you didn’t trust me to avenge our own daughter?”
“I wanted to protect you,” she cried. “You might have started a war if you went after their chief. I believed I could escape notice, and the Hardrata men would take the blame if they ever found out.” She tried to throw herself into her husband’s arms, but Hoskuld stood with his arms at his side, his anger palpable.
Morren looked up at Trahern, trying to sense his own reaction. There was uncertainty on his face.
“What you did was wrong,” Trahern said to Katla finally. “And I want to speak to Gunnar and Hoskuld with the chief, before any decision is made.”
Morren studied Katla’s reddened face. It was not the face of a murderer. She was a grieving mother who’d wanted to avenge her daughter’s death. And she would have to live with the guilt for the rest of her days.
“I believe her,” Morren said to Trahern. “It was the raiders’ fault. The destruction they wrought was their decision, and they have paid for it with their lives.”
Trahern gave a nod. Glancing at the other men, he said, “Send for Dagmar.”
WhenDagmararrivedthefollowing day, the chief listened to Katla’s confession. A mixture of fury and embarrassment crossed his face. After several hours of deliberation, they made a quiet decision. Katla would be allowed to live, but she would dwell among the Ó Reilly’s, so she would never forget what she’d done. They would tell no one of her involvement, so long as she paid restitution every day for the rest of her life.
“You will work alongside them,” Dagmar pronounced. “You will dedicate yourself to rebuilding what was lost. And you may not return to live among us.” To Hoskuld, he added, “I hold you responsible for ensuring that your wife obeys.”
It was an exile, but not a death sentence. Trahern felt that the penalty was a fair one, and his respect for Dagmar increased. Though it still felt strange to think that these men were his kinsmen, his former animosity had lessened.
