The Heart's Warrior (16 page)

A murmur arose amongst the crowd and a man

pointed at her. “Over there! Who is it?”

Alrik appeared, looking confused. When he saw her, he came running, followed by Sigurd and Knut and a horde of the largest, fiercest Viking warriors that ever walked the earth.

“What have you done to him, witch?” Sigurd bellowed when he saw his son lying upon the ground.

“Nothing. He is ill. Get back before you trample him, you great oafs.” She placed herself in front of Jonas’s prone body, to protect him from being tread upon by so many heavy feet.

Knut pulled out his sword, his eyes showing a feral gleam. “Did he harm you, mistress? Is it your wish that I kill him?”

“Of course not.” She gasped, realizing how vulnerable Jonas was.

Sigurd also drew his sword.

Kerstin held up her hands. “What are you doing?

He’s ill from his wound. Put aside your weapons and take Jonas to the hall so I can tend him.”

In a whirl, capable hands lifted Jonas and a path opened as they carried him to the hall. Kerstin raced ahead of the crowd. Inside, she moved to the door of her parent’s chamber and beckoned to them. “Lay him here on the bed. Minin, bring boiling water. Ota, get my healing herbs, and soft, clean cloths. Knut, I’ll need more warm 104

The Heart’s Warrior

105

furs.”

Minin, Ota and Knut hurried to do her bidding.

Kerstin opened her arms to herd the warriors

outside. “You other men go back to the fire so we can have some quiet. You can do nothing here to help.”

Sigurd’s men stared at her with suspicion. They

didn’t trust her and she knew there would be hell to pay if Jonas died.

“Don’t worry, I’ll watch over Jonas,” Sigurd told them.

“Come with me, men.” The king placated the warriors and they accompanied him back to the bonfire. True to his word Sigurd stayed, along with Alrik.

Inside the chamber, Kerstin removed Jonas’s shirt.

She heard the muted sounds of chatter outside the small window and knew the celebration had ended.

A tense crackling filled the air as Sigurd and Alrik stood against the wall, fondling the hilts of their swords.

If Jonas died, there would be war right here, right now, and she would be the first killed.

Sigurd stared at his last surviving son, who lay still as death upon the great box bed. Would he refuse to let her tend Jonas? Sigurd’s forehead crinkled with concern and Kerstin felt a touch of sympathy for this harsh man who loved his son.

Knut entered the room, carrying a bundle of brown, red and black furs in his arms. He deposited them beside Jonas on the bed, then rolled Jonas onto his stomach to give better access to the wound in his shoulder. Minin rushed in with Kerstin’s herb satchel and two thrall women. They all held candles close around the bed so Kerstin could see to work. She leaned over Jonas, her gaze taking in his naked torso.

“Oh! Look at him,” Ota cried with disgust. “Such

scars. He is horrid.”

A gasp tore from Minin’s throat; she thrust a hand against her mouth. A croon of dismay slipped from Kerstin’s parted lips. A melee of shiny white and purple scars covered Jonas’s torso and arms. How had he

suffered the jagged welts that blemished his body in such a brutal manner?

The other women grimaced and drew back.

105

Leigh Bale

“Ohh,” Marta exclaimed. “‘Tis a horrible sight. No wonder he’s called a beast.”

Kerstin’s head snapped up and she shamed the

woman with her eyes. “My husband is
not
a beast and you’ll not call him any more names.”

Lowering her eyes, Marta nodded but averted her

gaze from Jonas. It was obvious she could not abide to look upon him. Even kindhearted Minin turned her face aside.

Glancing toward the doorway, Kerstin saw Sigurd

standing there, watching this exchange in silence. His brows drew together in a frown, but she had no time to consider his feelings on the matter.

The women moved away from the bed, edging toward

the door.

“Stay where you are,” Kerstin said. “Now is not the time for weak stomachs. This man needs our help and I’ll slap the first one of you who tries to run away.”

The women stared at Kerstin with horror, then

returned to the foot of the bed, as far from Jonas as they dared.

Kerstin’s gaze flickered over Jonas’s scarred body.

Sympathy welled inside her for all his suffering. It made her even more determined to save him, if she could. As if she hadn’t noticed his blemished flesh, she set to work cleansing the arrow wound.

“It festers,” she commented to no one in particular.

“Minin, bring me rosemary and as much garlic as you can find. Marta, stoke the embers of the fire so they burn bright and hot. Ota, go and help Minin.”

The women scurried out of the room, grateful to have some chore to take them away. Kerstin went to the brazier and placed the cauldron of boiling water over it.

As the water started to bubble again, she went to her father and held out her hand.

“May I have your long dagger?”

Without question, he pulled it from its sheath and deposited it in her grasp.

“What do you plan?” Sigurd demanded, stepping

toward her.

Kerstin tensed. She needed no suspicious men to fuss with right now.

106

The Heart’s Warrior

107

“My daughter knows what she’s doing,” Alrik said.

“Come, we should join the king.”

Alrik tried to clasp Sigurd’s arm and lead him

outside. Sigurd jerked free, a snarl on his lips. “I’ll stay right where I am until I’m assured the witch means not to murder my son.”

Kerstin’s spine stiffened.

Alrik frowned. “You accuse my daughter falsely. She wouldn’t murder her own husband—”

“I’ll make certain of it,” Sigurd growled. “I wouldn’t want her to become a young widow.”

The two men stood close together, each with icy

glares and hands raised to rest upon their sword hilts.

Kerstin hardly believed they would begin a fight here and now. Marta cowered beside the brazier, her eyes wide.

“Let Sigurd stay.” Kerstin shrugged and turned back to Jonas. “Let him watch my every move. I’ll tend Jonas as well as I would my own child.”

“Knut will stay and make certain you don’t harm my daughter.” Alrik threw a pointed look in Knut’s direction and the man stood in the corner of the room, his arms crossed.

Alrik left and, with a heavy glower, Sigurd closed the door. He moved across the floor and sat in the chair in the far corner of the room. As he rested his hands on the smooth wooden armrests, he stared hard at Kerstin.

Because her father’s knife still bore the grease and grime from his evening meal, she plunged the blade and her scissors into the boiling pot to cleanse them. She also took the fire poker and placed it within the flames to heat.

At her urging, Marta prepared bandages.

Minin returned, pushing the door open with her hip.

She and Ota carried baskets of white peeled garlic cloves and rosemary.

“Thank you.” Kerstin grabbed up the rosemary and

sprinkled the leaves and flowers into a small metal container. Then, she poured water over the whole and left it to boil over the fire.

At her bidding, the women drew near with candles

and Kerstin extracted the cleaned dagger from the boiling water and approached the bed. She braced her thigh against Jonas’s side as she prepared to remove the 107

Leigh Bale

arrowhead. The bed dipped as she leaned her weight upon it. Drawing his sword, Sigurd came to his feet. “What are you planning to do, witch?”

Kerstin frowned at her husband’s father. His

menacing gaze showed his loathing as he shifted his feet on the rush-covered floor. Kerstin rolled her eyes. She couldn’t work with him standing over her with a sword, questioning her every move.

“Minin,” she called to the woman without moving her gaze from Sigurd. “Go and get Knut’s dagger and bring it here.”

Minin didn’t hesitate but hustled over to her

husband. Kerstin continued to stare at Sigurd. The air crackled with tension as the fire popped in the brazier.

The candles shook in Ota’s unsteady hands. When a panting Minin returned, she held out the dagger, but Kerstin didn’t take it.

“Give it to Sigurd.”

Minin obeyed. The man took it in his left hand and looked dumbfounded. “What do you mean by this?”

“I intend to take the arrowhead out of your son’s shoulder. It will hurt him and he may cry out even though he’s unconscious. If you wish to interfere, then his death will be upon your head and not mine. If Jonas dies by my hand, you may kill me with the dagger.”

Sigurd’s mouth dropped open with surprise and

Kerstin returned to her chore. Leaning over Jonas, she studied his shoulder, seeing the red and swollen wound as well as the horrible scars of old. Gently, she prodded with her fingers to discover the location of the arrowhead.

Jonas stirred. “I’ll kill you if you touch her,” he mumbled before he settled back into unconsciousness.

Kerstin showed a grim smile, knowing he must be

speaking to Elezer. Even now, he thought he owned her.

She looked at Sigurd. “The steel point is imbedded tight against the collarbone. That’s why your men had trouble removing it. The fools broke off the shaft when they tried to push it through the flesh. If they had been patient and worked with it, they could have pushed it through without difficulty. Instead, they’ve ripped the flesh and made a greater mess for me to clean up.”

108

The Heart’s Warrior

109

“Can you get it out, mistress?” Marta asked, no

longer appearing repulsed by Jonas’s scars. The startling newness had worn off and the women seemed to realize Jonas was near death. His scars didn’t matter.

“I’ll have to dig it out.” Looking up, Kerstin beckoned to Sigurd. “Do you think you dare put away your sword long enough to hold him for me?”

Sigurd nodded his craggy head, sheathed his sword and tossed the dagger on the table. His expression tender, he gently placed his gnarled hands on Jonas’s back and held him tight. Sigurd’s concern for his son touched Kerstin’s heart as nothing else could. She must save Jonas.

What if she failed? If he died—She couldn’t think about that now.

The room filled with the bracing odor of rosemary and garlic.

“Marta, remove the steeping herbs from the fire so the liquid will cool. Minin, cut up the garlic cloves and mash them to extract the juice. I’ll get the arrowhead out.” The women nodded and set to work.

Taking up the cleaned dagger, Kerstin cut into

Jonas’s flesh, trying to damage as little of the muscle as possible. Jonas bellowed in rage and tried to knock her hand away. Sigurd leaned his weight against his son, using all his strength to hold him down. Kerstin braced her hand so she wouldn’t jar the knife.

“Hold still, Jonas,” Kerstin crooned in his ear. “I know it hurts, but you must allow me to help you. It’ll be all right. I mean you no harm.”

“Witch,” he murmured as his eyes opened, rolled,

then closed again. “Beautiful witch—you’ll kill me.”

Again, he tried to rise.

“I gave you my pledge,” Kerstin said. “I could have left you to die, but I stayed. I’ll not harm you. If I do, your father will avenge you by killing me.”

His hands clenched, his jaw tight with pain. Sweat rolled down his face, but he lay still while she dug into his poor, battered shoulder. Not even when she saw the metal and used the tip of the dagger to pry against the bone did he move. He trusted her word and Kerstin didn’t know if 109

Leigh Bale

she should be pleased or dismayed.

The arrowhead lodged tight and unyielding. Jonas’s men had broken off what remained of the shaft and driven the steel point deeper in their efforts to extract it.

Kerstin applied more pressure. It gave with a scraping sound and she used the scissors to grip it as she pulled it out. Holding it up for all of them to see, she beamed. “I got it!”

Sigurd exhaled a mighty breath, then held out his hand and she placed the bloody steel on his palm. He returned to his chair.

Kerstin dipped a clean cloth in the rosemary water and proceeded to cleanse the wound. It bled profusely but Kerstin knew that would help flush the poisons. She took the dish of garlic juice from Minin and smeared the noxious stuff on Jonas’s shoulder. The pungent scent of garlic hung heavy in the air. Kerstin’s eyes watered and her nose burned.

“What will that do?” Sigurd asked as he sat forward.

“It will kill the poisons,” she replied without looking up. The bleeding had almost stopped. Using the

bandages, she let Minin help her wrap Jonas’s shoulder.

Then, she ladled angelica tea into his mouth and

massaged his throat until he swallowed. She managed this tiresome chore with patience.

Sigurd came out of his seat but he didn’t say

anything for several moments. He paced the room as he glowered at Kerstin.

“It will reduce his fever and relieve the pain.” To show Sigurd that it would not harm his son, she took a mouthful of the brew and swallowed it. Sigurd quieted and took his seat. When she reached for the garlic juice and mixed a warm tea to feed Jonas, again the man hopped to his feet.

“I’ve told you it kills the poisons.” Kerstin smiled ruefully. “Though it has an unpleasant smell and we won’t want to speak with Jonas until the scent wears off.

You yourself eat garlic with your meals.”

He nodded his shaggy head, but it wasn’t until

Kerstin swallowed a mouthful of garlic water that Sigurd 110

The Heart’s Warrior

111

calmed once more.

All through the night and next day, Kerstin stayed by Jonas’s side. She had no appetite for the food Marta brought her. Her hair became matted, her eyes scratchy from lack of sleep. Her shoulders drooped and she felt tired to her bones. She could not rest when Jonas might die. Changing his bandage often, she wiped his fevered body with damp cloths and dribbled more teas down his parched throat. He mumbled incoherently and thrashed, but swallowed.