A Flame Put Out (14 page)

Chapter 14

At dusk, Selia went in to check on Hrefna. The preparations for the gathering had drained the woman. Most nights she’d taken to her bed early in the evening, and encouraged Alrik to continue the festivities without her. Hrefna was also having a difficult time without her daughter Kolgrima, who had not come to the gathering. Her own daughter Bergdis was heavy with her second child and Kolgrima had gone to be with her for the summer. Hrefna missed her terribly.

Selia stood in the doorway of Hrefna’s room. “Are you awake?”

Hrefna turned over and gave Selia a wan smile. “Yes, my dear. Come in.”

Selia shut the door behind her and sat on the edge of the bed. Alrik’s aunt had aged quickly after Olaf died. Grief lined her face and stole the vibrancy of her beautiful hair. It held more gray than red now, reminding Selia of fabric that hadn’t taken the dye evenly.

The winter had been a harsh one for Alrik’s farmstead. Four thralls had died from a coughing sickness. Hrefna had succumbed to the illness as well and still hadn’t quite fully recovered. Her breathing became labored with the slightest exertion and her skin had an unhealthy bluish tint to it. Hrefna had tried to pace herself at the gathering, but it seemed to Selia she needed to rest for longer and longer periods.

Thankfully this was the last of the gathering. The horde would leave tomorrow and things could go back to normal. Hrefna could focus on regaining her health.

“How are the boys?” Hrefna asked.

“They’re fine. I made them go to bed,” Selia replied.

The boys slept in the main room. All the women and children were bedding down in there as well, so Geirr and Faolan had been sharing a bench during the gathering. Selia had shut their curtain and given them both a stern warning to stay put and go to sleep.

“And what of the boy Faolan was fighting with?”

“He left with Eysteinn. I’m sure they didn’t want to remain and wait for Alrik to hear of what was said.”

Hrefna nodded. “Still, it seems strange Faolan would overreact about someone slinging insults at Geirr. It’s not as though it hasn’t happened before.”

Selia kept her face impassive. “Just one time too many, I suppose.”

“Yes,” Hrefna agreed, but her eyes held steady on Selia. The woman was clever enough to know Selia was hiding something.

Now was not the time to tell Hrefna about the second insult. She had guessed Ulfrik’s feelings for Selia long ago, and had suspected something had happened between them when Selia was apart from Alrik. To discuss this with Hrefna now would only raise her suspicions again.

Besides, there was something else more pressing in Selia’s mind. A question she had wanted to ask Hrefna for some time but hadn’t had the nerve to. Now was as good a time as any.

“Hrefna,” she said in a hesitant voice, “do you think there is something wrong with Faolan?”

“Something wrong?”

“Yes.” Selia paused and wiped her palms on her gown. “Do you think . . . do you think Faolan is like Alrik?” She couldn’t even use the word
berserker
in the same sentence with her son’s name.

Hrefna lay silently, and Selia’s heart sank. “He is like his father in many ways,” Hrefna murmured at last. “But in other ways he is like you. I have witnessed gentleness in that boy I never saw from Alrik as a child.”

Selia swallowed painfully. “When he was fighting, he had the look of Alrik when in a fury. It frightened me.”

Hrefna nodded and patted Selia’s hand. “I did not know Alrik when he was as young as Faolan. But what I understand of Ragnarr tells me he would have encouraged viciousness in his sons. And my poor sister was powerless to stand up to him. What Faolan has that Alrik didn’t have is a mother who can teach him there is more to being a man than fighting.”

Later, Selia lay in her bedchamber, sleepless. Some of the women and children hadn’t yet retired and there was a constant, low murmur of voices and occasional laughter from the main room. A babe cried as a couple of overwrought children argued.

The men were all still outside. Alrik hadn’t come to bed until very late every night of the gathering, smelling strongly of ale.

Noises from the main room poured in for a moment as the door opened and shut quickly. Faolan stood with his back to the wood, looking sheepish.

Selia sat up. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep.”

She threw the covers back and Faolan climbed in the bed with her. He lay on Alrik’s pillow facing Selia, and reached for a lock of her hair. He curled it around his finger, over and over, as he had done since he was small and still at the breast.

The memory caused Selia’s breath to catch in her throat. It had been so much easier when warm milk and a cuddle could make everything right again in Faolan’s world.

Selia gazed at her son. Such a beautiful child, with his black curls and vivid blue eyes. His body was small and thin, and reminded Selia somewhat of how Ainnileas had been built as a child. But where Ainnileas’ thinness had held a delicate, almost frail quality, Faolan’s body was ropy and tight with coiled muscle. Like a tiny warrior.

Ainnileas had whiled away his youth avoiding strenuous labor whenever possible, but Faolan and Geirr spent much time wrestling and sparring with each other. It was hard to tell whether Faolan’s body would eventually take after that of Alrik rather than Ainnileas when he grew into a man.

“I’m sorry,” Faolan burst out, obviously miserable.

Selia squeezed his hand. “I know you’re sorry, Faolan. But that boy didn’t deserve to lose his teeth.”

Faolan’s lip quivered. “But what he said about you—”

“There will always be boys who say things you don’t like. Those boys will grow into men who say things you don’t like. Will you knock all of their teeth out?”

“Yes,” Faolan asserted. “If they call my mother a whore I will knock all of their teeth out.” His eyes flashed fierce and blue as if imagining the fight in his mind’s eye.

Selia couldn’t suppress a laugh and she pulled Faolan closer. His hair still smelled of seawater as she kissed the top of his head. She would have to make sure he bathed tomorrow when everyone left.

“My little Faolan,” she whispered. “Thank you for protecting my honor. Those boys will think twice about sullying my good name ever again.”

Selia had meant it as a joke but Faolan didn’t laugh. He looked up at her with a serious expression. “Why does Father never talk about his brother?”

“Hmm.” Selia kept her face unreadable. “They had a dispute, long ago. And Ulfrik left.”

Faolan pondered this. “What was the dispute about?”

“Many things, but partly about me. Ulfrik and I were friends. He taught me to speak Norse when I first came here. But your father didn’t like us spending time together.”

“Oh,” Faolan said. “Because he was jealous.”

“Yes.”

“Father is always jealous.”

Selia nodded. “That is why it’s better he doesn’t hear about what Eysteinn Refsson said. None of it is true, of course, but best he doesn’t know. I’m glad you didn’t tell him.”

Faolan snuggled into Selia’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Mother. I won’t tell him.”

Selia woke near dawn with Alrik’s hands on her body. The candle had gone out and the room was in darkness. “Wait,” Selia whispered. “Faolan is here.”

“No,” Alrik said as he lifted Selia’s shift over her head. “Not anymore.” His hands were steady and his words weren’t slurred. So he hadn’t drunk himself into a stupor tonight.

Alrik’s silky hair fell around Selia’s face as he leaned down to claim her mouth, and she curved her arms around his neck as she returned the kiss. Yet something in Alrik’s manner struck her as odd. He seemed troubled.

What could be wrong?

He slid his hand up her thigh and over her belly, then stopped at her breast and brushed his thumb across her nipple in a slow circle. Taking hold of her hair, he tugged her head back and worked his way down her neck with kisses. “My turn,” he said, as he took her nipple into his mouth.

Alrik had not argued with Hrefna’s assertion that Selia’s first child should be her last. In fact he had seemed somewhat relieved when Selia agreed to take Hrefna’s tea to prevent his seed from taking hold in her womb again. He had been resentful of the time Selia spent with the boys when they were small, but especially selfish of Faolan’s constant demand for her body. Alrik had wanted Selia to allow Hallveig to be wet nurse to Faolan alongside of Geirr, but Selia had refused.

It had been one of the few times Selia flatly challenged Alrik’s authority. Faolan was her son, and she would be the one to feed him. How could Alrik not understand there was no greater satisfaction for a woman than to see her child grow plump and healthy on her own milk? But to Alrik, it only meant Selia was choosing someone else over him. The act of disobedience did not settle well with him and he hadn’t let her forget it.

Now Selia twined her fingers into Alrik’s hair as he nuzzled. Although pleasant, his slow and disciplined enjoyment of her body was unusual. Nothing like the typical intensity of his lovemaking. Something definitely bothered him.

“What’s wrong, Alrik?” she whispered into the darkness.

“Nothing,” he mumbled into her breast, but stopped what he was doing. “So you want it rough, then, little one?”

A shiver went through Selia at his words. Even after all this time, she still craved him with the same passion she had in the beginning.

Unquestionably, Alrik was a maddening individual. There were times he pushed her so far with his selfish and fickle behavior, she wondered if she had made the right choice to stay in Norway. But none of that had ever dampened her desire for him. She wanted Alrik as much as ever.

Selia ran her hands over his broad back, feeling the heavy muscles under his skin. She wiggled beneath him until they were face to face again. “You know what I want.” Her voice throbbed with desire.

Even in the almost complete dark of the room, Selia could see the flash of Alrik’s teeth as he smiled. He made a noise that was half-laugh, half-growl as his mouth came down on hers again, possessive this time, demanding. He slid one arm under her shoulders and gripped the base of her skull with just enough force to hold her head still. Alrik plundered her mouth as he would soon plunder her body, and when he finally broke the kiss Selia gasped for air.

She moaned, needing him desperately, but he wouldn’t let her move. At last he parted her legs with his knee and sheathed himself inside her, claiming what was his.

He thrust hard, still holding her by the back of the neck. Alrik always enjoyed pinning her down, and whenever he did so Selia was reminded of the way a male animal would bite the neck of a female to hold her still during copulation. She cried out now as her body shattered around him in a release so intense she drifted off into the darkness for a moment.

Alrik finished with a groan, panting above her, and his grip on her skull finally relaxed.

Dazed and satisfied, Selia pushed Alrik’s hair away from his eyes. She smiled at him but he didn’t return the smile. The pale light of dawn snaked through the smoke hole and Selia could see from the expression on his face that something was still troubling him. She rose up to kiss his cheek. “You’re upset. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Alrik rolled to the side and lay next to her. He sighed. “I’ve been thinking about what that boy said. The one Faolan was fighting with.”

Selia went still. Surely he hadn’t heard the ugly slur? She studied him, looking for any sign of jealousy or suspicion, but there was nothing. He looked troubled but not angry.

Alrik continued. “Geirr is the wrong choice for Hersir, Selia. He is too reckless and foolhardy to lead a war band. A Hersir holds the lives of many men in his hands. How can I expect Geirr to do that when he can’t even be responsible for himself?”

His unsettled expression had nothing to do with her and Ulfrik. A sense of impending doom crept through Selia’s soul like the shadow of a storm on a clear summer afternoon. “I do not understand,” she whispered.

“Faolan is a better choice for Hersir. You know this. He is a natural leader, and a true warrior. He has the wolf in him. I’ve sensed it before but now I know it for truth.” Alrik paused for a moment before turning to Selia with a look of defiance on his face. “I marked him myself tonight. With the men to witness.”

The dark shadow within her breast intensified and threatened to suffocate her. Selia grabbed Alrik by the shoulder. “What do you mean, you ‘marked him?’ What did you do to my son?” she choked out.

He shook her off. “He is my son too, woman, and you would do well to remember it.” Alrik raised his chin and looked down his nose at Selia with the sneering expression he used whenever he wanted to be sure his audience knew who was in charge. He struck the tattoo on his chest, just over his heart. “I marked him.”

Selia gasped. The berserker tattoo. Alrik had put it on Faolan just as Ragnarr had marked Alrik. From father to son, the sign of the shape shifter would live on.

An unholy fury coursed through Selia’s veins and she attempted to slap Alrik, but he caught her wrist before her hand hit his face.

“You would raise your hand to me?” he hissed.

Selia tried to hit him with her other hand, but he caught that one as well. He held her by both wrists as she struggled against him. “My son is not a berserker!” she spat at him. “I will never forgive you for this!”

“It is done.” Alrik pushed her away. “Faolan Alrikson will be Hersir.”

Clenching her teeth until they ached, Selia clambered from the bed, dressed, and ran from the room. She picked her way through the mass of bodies on the floor and crossed to the bench Faolan and Geirr were sharing. Alrik must have crept in and taken Faolan from Selia’s bed, then returned the child to his bench after the evil deed had been committed upon him.

She drew the curtain back and watched the boys as they slumbered. They were so beautiful when they were asleep, so peaceful.

When her boys became men, a longship full of Vikingers would cross the sea, Faolan at the helm, bringing terror and destruction to unsuspecting villages, raping and plundering, killing anyone who got in his way. He would tear families apart. Irish children asleep in their beds would wake with Faolan’s sword through their bellies.