Did she intend to disappear once—if—she and Judith were freed? He bloody well hoped not. Ulf found he was taking her protection very personally. Whatever happened with Mildred, he would make sure this woman was safe from harm.
Which brought him to his plans for the rest of the day.
“Do not be surprised if once you head for the gate you see me ride into town as well. I will show no indication that I know you but since I’m here anyway, I may as well go see if the cooper has finished the cask I ordered last week.”
There was no such cask, but she was not to know that.
From the way Ylva nodded, Ulf could see that her mind was already on the task at hand.
“All right. Time to go.”
“Steinar,Wolf’s oldest son, is dead.”
Ylva swallowed while she waited for Mildred’s reaction. This was the moment of truth. Would the ruse work? Did she look upset enough to convince the other woman that she was telling the truth? Perhaps. Even if, in reality, none of the Norsemen had been killed, Ylva was too unsettled by the events of the day to appear her normal self, she was far too worried about Judith to appear anything other than overwrought. With luck, it would be enough to convince Mildred that she was not lying.
Apparently it was, because something like triumph flashed through the woman’s eyes.
“His eldest, you say? An excellent choice, as the loss of his favorite son is bound to pain him the most. He was probably hoping the man would follow in his footsteps.”
This was exactly what Ulf had predicted she would think. The woman really was despicable. Ylva bit back the stringent retort burning her lips. Now was not the time to antagonize her.
“Here,” she said instead. “His arm ring, taken from his corpse as proof. You must know about the Norsemen’s custom of wearing one?”
She was grateful to Ulf for the suggestion, because, judging from the way she snatched the beautiful bracelet from her, Mildred understood the importance of the object and knew Steinar would never have surrendered it willingly.
“Yes, yes. This is indeed a Norse ring, and certainly big enough to belong to him.” Ylva felt her chest squeeze in triumph but she schooled her face into indifference. “But tell me, however did you manage to kill such a man? I saw him once, when he came to enquire about my father, and he was formidable, like most Norsemen.”
Indeed. Formidable.
“I stabbed him in the back while he was fishing by the river. I observed the Norsemen for a few days, to find the best way to put my plan to execution and select my victim. I discovered that they have a peculiar way of fishing for trout. They don’t use a rod, like normal people.” For good measure, she gave a snort, as if she thought them as barbaric as Mildred did. “They bend down by the edge of the water with one hand in the water and wait for the fish to come within grabbing distance. It can take quite a while. I quickly concluded that this made them an ideal, immobile target for me. And this morning I struck lucky, as it was Steinar’s turn to go to the river, alone.”
This was what she and Ulf had agreed she should say while they’d ridden back to town earlier. Obviously, she needed a plausible explanation as to how a slight woman like her would have succeeded in overpowering a man like Steinar and he had told her about this method of fishing the men in the villagefavored, the one his grandfather had been taught by his old friend, Sigurd.
Not for the first time, Ylva thought how lucky she had been to be sent to kill someone from the Icelander’s family, someone who had been kind enough to listen to her and generous enough to want to help. Without them she would never have fulfilled her mission.
Calm down. It’s a good start, but Judith has not been freed yet. You still need to be convincing.
She carried on with her fake story.
“It didn’t kill him straight away, obviously, but while he recovered from the surprise and pain of the blow, I stabbed him again, in the chest this time, and then in the…neck. Blood spurted everywhere. It was awful. Eventually, he stopped moving.”
Though they were nothing but lies, each word left a bitter taste in Ylva’s mouth. What would she feel if she’d had to announce for real that she had killed someone? How would she bear to have Ulf, Steinar, or anyone’s murder on her conscience?
If she succeeded in convincing Mildred, Ulf would have saved more than her friend that day, he would have saved her sanity.
“So he died, bleeding like the pig—forgive me—wolf pup that he is…” Mildred cackled. “Excellent.”
Ylva was glad Judith was not here to hear the terrible description of the murder. Of course, she would eventually tell her what had really happened, but for a few, terrible moments, her friend would have thought her a ruthless killer. There might not have been any recovering from that.
“Now, bring Judith here. You’ve had what you wanted. Steinar is dead.”
Mildred cocked her head. “Yes, he is. But he’s not the only person I wanted revenge from.”
Fear gripped Ylva’s insides. What was she saying? Was Judith already dead? Had she killed her in retaliation for daring to escape?
“You promised!” she cried out.
“Calm yourself, I promised I would not kill her, and I won’t. You’ve earned her life with the murder of Wolf’s son.” Mildred came close, so close that Ylva could smell the sour smell clinging to her. “But I never said I would release her, or you, did I? Fool, did you really think I would allow my slaves to get away with what they did? Trying to escape when they belong to me?”
