She continued to whisper to him and the two men and Freydis came to help bring him back to her hut. It was a struggle even for the four of them, but before long they managed to secure him on a cot.
The sight that met her eyes when Freydis removed his tunic made her want to retch. Multiple stab marks spread across his gut.
“What do you need?” Saga asked.
“I need alcohol. Bring your brother’s ale. And I need someone to heat strips of cloth for me. Send me three men from the hall.”
“Done.”
Saga left her hut and in a full-on run, headed toward the hall. By Odin’s breath, someone would answer for this crime.
* * *
Giric listened as Gunnar detailed the exact dimensions of the hall in which they sat. The man had surely consumed his bodyweight in ale, yet his mind remained sharp even if his words slurred. Giric had given up on the drink long ago. Besides being bitter, it was far too strong and made his head spin. Not a desired effect when a guest at another man’s table.
From time to time, he glanced back at the door through which Saga and Vigdis had retreated hours ago. He let his mind drift to images of her laying naked across the furs on her bed. He longed to explore her curves as much as he longed to feel her muscular arms wrapped tightly around him as they shared their pleasure. He had no doubt in his mind she would be as free with her pleasure as she was with her opinions. Everything about her drew him in and held him there. From her strength, to her wit, to her beauty, she was what he craved.
“Are you listening to me, Giric?” Gunnar asked. “I’m telling you that I oversaw the building of every part of this hall.”
Giric turned back to agree with his host as the object of his distraction threw open the main hall door and rushed up to her brother’s side. She wore her warrior’s clothes and a wild look about her face.
“Bjorn has been stabbed,” she said to Gunnar.
Several Vikings, who formerly looked like they’d had enough to drink, stood and unsheathed their swords.
Gunnar was on his feet in an instant.
“What? How? Where is Einar?”
“I do not know,” she said. “I found Bjorn on my way to Freydis’ hut.”
What was she doing out late at night with so many strangers around? Giric didn’t like it. He also didn’t like the logical conclusion to which Gunnar would arrive.
Gunnar turned to Giric. “Shut the doors, Saga. We will take account of every man in this hall.”
Giric nodded and looked at Osgar. “Count each man. Twice. Make sure everyone is accounted for.”
The process took but a few minutes. Giric and Osgar counted their twenty-four sailors twice to be sure.
“We are all accounted for, Gunnar.”
He nodded then turned to the two guards he had originally left to stand watch at the ship. “Did you do a headcount earlier today, when I asked?”
“Ja, Gunnar. We counted six and twenty men plus the lords.”
Both guards looked at one another and nodded their heads.
“You are sure you counted six and twenty sailors plus these two men?” Gunnar waved his hand toward Giric and Osgar.
Bile rose in Giric’s throat. Would Gunnar trust the men who were clearly lying? Who were either too uneducated to count or too stupid to realize a galley only had seats for twenty-four rowers? And what about the earl Bjorn was supposed to guard?
If Gunnar decided to trust them, there was little Giric could do but fight. Much was at stake and the next few moments were tense while the large man beside him contemplated his next move.
Giric glanced over at Saga. Instead of seeing an accusatory glare, she too, wore a knit brow as though she was trying to sort something out.
“They couldn’t have done it,” she said to Gunnar.
He turned to her. “I know that. But I would like to hear your reasoning for it.”
