“Aye, but not as constant, and not as severe. If I am completely still, it even goes away for a short time. But now I have that other ache to contend with.”
“Where?”
“My back.”
She had not seen his back. He was without a tunic, but he had been placed on his back in the wagon and hadn’t stirred from that position. Even now, to feed him, she had merely called for her sack of extra clothes to place under his head so he was lifted enough to swallow more easily.
“Another wound?”
Again his expression altered to a mask of pure rage. “Ask that Danish bitch.”
Kristen didn’t wait that long. She pushed his shoulder until he slowly turned for her ontohis stomach. She heard his hiss of pain and saw why. What scabs had formed had stuck to the pallet and just been ripped off. And that solid mass of blue and blister-puffed skin, now oozing blood…
It was too much for Kristen to grasp. Falsely accused of spying and then tortured for a confession? And a woman had ordered it? Awoman?
Selig couldn’t see the wound, could only feel it, so she made light of it, though she was seething. “’Tis not as bad as it looks.”
“It feels worse.”
“Most like because you are so weak.” She tried to make him forget it, though she could not. “Have you had any sustenance at all in all this time?”
“The day I awoke, before I reached Gronwood.”
Briskly now, she said, “Well, you are going to finish this stew—and more, I hope. I want you eating constantly, as often as you can, as much as you can.” She set the bowl down on the pallet, next to his face. “You can manage the rest of this yourself, I think, with not so far to reach it. I am going to go and fetch that healer now, and not a word against it. She will have salves to apply, and something to ease your pain, and no purges, I swear it.”
She gave him no opportunity to argue, not that it would have done him any good. She left the wagon, careful not to jar it and so jar him. But it was not the healer she was seeking—not yet. She looked for and foundthe Dane, sitting with Thorolf not so many feet away.
Erika had been watching the wagon for Kristen’s appearance. She jumped to her feet, causing Thorolf to scramble hastily to his, thinking she was bolting, until he, too, saw Kristen approaching.
Erika didn’t run, stood her ground, though she was trembling.She has seen his back, seen what I did in anger, no excuse, no excuse, no matter the provocation…
“I asked you before,” Kristen said, reaching them, her voice calm, surprising Erika with that calmness. “I will have an answer this time. If Selig came to Gronwood injured, as Turgeis Ten Feet claimed, then he was seeking help. How did you aid him?”
“I had him lashed.”
It was the worst time for Erika’s guilt to make such a vocal appearance, but then, she had been wallowing in it all day. Kristen heard not the guilt, though, merely the words confirming the conclusions she had reached, and she released her rage with a backhanded fist.
It was a powerful blow, coming from a woman her size, a woman no longer holding her anger in check. It knocked Erika to the ground, where she sprawled at Thorolf’s feet, her golden hair puddled in the dirt. He didn’t try to stop her fall. He could have, but he merely moved aside.
Erika’s cheek felt afire. It had been smashed against the edges of her teeth, slicing the inside open. Blood pooled in the bottom ofher mouth, so much that some trickled out of the corners, and she was forced to spit it out or choke on it.
Kristen stood over her, both fists clenched, arms rigid, shouting at her to get up, that she was not done with her. She was going to beat her senseless, Erika was sure of it, and there wasn’t a single man there who would stop her—Turgeis. Ah, sweet Freya, nay. If he was near, if he was somehow watching, he would abandon all caution and come forward to help her. Nothing would stop him from trying, and he would die in the attempt. And Kristen was still shouting at her to get up.
“Lady, please, not where he can see.”
If pleas had been anticipated, that was not one of them. Kristen scoffed. “Do you delude yourself into thinking someone here cares what happens to you?”
“Turgeis does.” The blue eyes were deep with meaning.
The mere mention of the name caused a half-dozen swords to be drawn by those near enough to have heard her. But Kristen was not daunted by the prospect of that hulking giant’s possible appearance. She was too angry.
“Then let him come. I doubt me you and I will even notice. Now get up—”
She was cut off, and by a voice that was least expected. “Nay, Kris. Feed her. Keep her well. What she suffers is to come from me.”
Kristen made a furious sound of frustration and marched back to the wagon. Selig had actually pulled himself to a sitting positionand now clung to the side of the wagon to remain that way.
“Let me—” she began.
