Wild Viking Princess (15 page)

The funeral banquet was bountiful, but the mood subdued. Reider’s thoughts went back to the night of his father’s murder. His eyes fixed on Ragna, seated at his side. The dread that she would not be at the funeral had torn at his gut. Relief had swept over him at the sight of her standing next to Kjartan on the headland.

Ragna too had experienced heartbreak because of the cruel deaths of her parents. He hoped she would one day find a measure of peace, as he had, knowing his father had been honoured appropriately.

Did she understand why he had helped Sigrun, that it had been his duty as his father’s son? He smiled despite his concern. His father must be experiencing great joy with Sigrun at his side as he journeyed to Valhalla.

He prayed his own journey with Ragna would be filled with love and understanding. He had known her only a short time, but could not imagine life without her.

She had been quiet after the rites and looked exhausted. She fingered Sigrun’s amber beads at her neck. His home and his traditions must seem strange to her. There would be some lively arguments over the years! He leaned close. “You look tired, Ragna. I’ll command a thrall to accompany you to your chamber. Leave Thor here with me. He is too excited.”

She squeezed his hand and nodded, her eyes red-rimmed. How strange to see Ragna speechless! He summoned a girl who used to be Margit’s thrall. She looked pale and in need of a gentle mistress. She would be a good choice for Ragna.

~~~

Ragna was relieved Reider had sent her to bed, worn out by the conflicting emotions that had warred within her all day. She could barely recall her own name. She smiled at the timid young thrall who had accompanied her to the guest chamber in Reider’s ringhouse. He had told her she used to belong to Margit, but now belonged to him. A horrible suspicion had her wondering if Reider had lain with the girl, but she dismissed it. The girl was a child who looked cowed, and unwell. Reider’s thralls seemed healthy, happy and willing to serve. She surmised from what she knew of Margit that the girl had probably not been treated well.

“What is your name?” she asked.

The girl flinched. Was she afraid Ragna would strike her? She reached for the girl’s hand and pointed to herself. “I am Lady Ragna.”

She pointed to the thrall. “What is your name?”

Fear lingered in the girl’s tired eyes, but she whispered, “Olve.”

“Olve, you need not fear me. I will not hurt you.” The girl would not understand her language, but perhaps she would take heart from the kind way Ragna spoke to her.

Olve reached nervously to unpin the brooch holding Ragna’s cloak. Ragna relaxed and allowed the servant to disrobe her, then help her don her night attire. She nodded with approval when Olve took the precious dagger and laid it reverently on the sideboard. The thrall carefully combed out her mistress’s hair. Ragna’s turmoil gradually left her. “Thank you, Olve. I feel better. Perhaps it is my destiny always to be searching for a way to improve things. Perhaps I am fated never to be completely happy.”

Olve tucked her into bed.

Ragna yawned. “You should sleep as well, Olve. You are too pale, and thin.”

Olve bowed.

Ragna drifted into sleep.

~~~

Olve curled up on the planking at the foot of her new mistress’s bed. She had not understood what Lady Ragna had chattered about, but was grateful she would spend her final days with a gentle mistress.

The pain had been unrelenting since Margit had destroyed her child. Something inside was broken. She was weak, her life draining away. But she would do her best for her new master and mistress. It was an honour to serve them. She cursed Margit as she fell into a doze, trying to identify the night-time noises of a chamber she had never slept in before.

A loud creak sent a cold shiver down her spine. She recognized the footfall and dread filled her heart. How long had she slept? Was she dreaming? How could Margit be here when she was locked away?

She sat up slowly, peering into the darkness. Her mistress snored softly. Olve now had no doubt Margit was also in the chamber. She would know the woman’s smell anywhere.

Olve rolled into a crouch, remembering the dagger her new mistress cherished. She cringed when a harsh voice broke the silence. “Wake up, English bitch. I want you to know who it is sends you to
Hel
.”

Olve heard the sound of linens rustling and Lady Ragna’s indignant voice. “
Godemite
! Who are you?”

“I am Margit Hansdatter and you will not steal Reider from me.”

Olve crept silently to where the dagger lay. The penalty for a thrall who murdered a freewoman was death, but she was a dead woman anyway. She would not let Margit kill Lady Ragna.

Her new mistress screeched what sounded like a war cry, raising gooseflesh on the back of Olve’s neck. There were sounds of a struggle. A weak shaft of the new moon glinted on the blade of a knife. Olve lunged for her lady’s dagger and drew it from its sheath. With strength she did not know she had left, she leapt up onto the bed, plunging the weapon over and over into Margit’s back.

Margit grunted and slumped onto the bed. Light filled the chamber as Prince Reider burst in with his torchbearers. A red stain spread on the white linens. Lady Ragna’s chemise was spattered with blood. On her knees on the bed, she trembled, staring open-mouthed at the body before her. Olve, panting hard, clutched the dagger in her bloodied hands.

Kjartan ran into the chamber and quickly disarmed the thrall who looked like she was in a trance. “It’s Ragna’s dagger,” he exclaimed.

Reider stood transfixed, dreading that Ragna had been wounded, perhaps mortally, but Kjartan’s voice jolted him out of his daze. He rushed to lift Ragna from the blood-soaked bed, holding her tightly as she keened. “Olve saved me, she saved me. It was Margit. I didn’t know her. How did she come to be here?”

He stood her on her feet, running his hands over her. “Are you hurt? Did she wound you?”

She swayed, shaking her head numbly. “Olve saved me.”

She collapsed into his arms, sobbing. “Hold me, Reider. I was terrified. I tried to fight her off, but had it not been for Olve—”

Reider smoothed his hand over her hair, whispering words of reassurance, until his gaze fell on the thrall. Two burly guards had forced her to her knees. Dread knotted his gut. This girl had saved Ragna’s life, but she would be sentenced to die because she had taken Margit’s worthless life in defence of her mistress. Perhaps Ragna was right. Some of his people’s traditions needed to change. Ragna would be incensed if the girl were condemned.

“Release her,” he commanded.

They obeyed, but the thrall remained on her knees, head bent.

Ragna turned, saw the thrall and rushed to her, drawing her to her feet and embracing her. “Thank you, Olve. You saved me.”

She turned to Reider. “Olve must be freed. She saved my life.”

By Thor, if only it were that simple!

The perceptive Ragna recognised his perplexed expression. Her face reddened and she raked her fingers over her scalp, gripping her hair. “What? Why can she not be freed?”

Olve had sunk to her knees again, seemingly resigned to her fate. The girl looked ill. Who knew what she had suffered at Margit’s hand? The woman had hidden her cruelty well during their brief betrothal.

He put his arm around Ragna’s shoulder, but addressed his words to the thrall. “I will return after I have lodged Lady Ragna in another chamber. Remain here until then.”

The girl did not look at him, but he knew she would obey.

At the door he turned back. “Thank you, Olve,” he rasped.

~~~

Reider wanted to take Ragna to his own bed and hold her tightly until the horror went away. But decorum dictated otherwise.

He took her to another guest chamber. They sat together on the edge of the bed, and he held her trembling hand.

“I don’t understand, Reider,” she murmured.

“Margit got hold of a weapon and murdered a guard, then escaped from the gaol.”

A long breath shuddered through her. “She woke me before she attacked. She wanted me to know my executioner.”

“She was mad, Ragna. It became clear a while ago. I wish I had ordered her death before this. I would have given anything to save you this terror.”

She leaned into him and he buried his nose in her hair, inhaling the spicy fragrance, once more dreading the explanation he would have to give her about Olve. He noticed the blood spatters on her chemise. “I will send a thrall to help you change your gown.”

She pulled away from him. “I want Olve.”

He braced his hands on his thighs and looked up at the ceiling, searching for guidance. “I cannot send Olve. I must speak with her.”

“What will happen to her?”

He scratched his head. Ragna would not make this easy. “A thrall who raises a hand against a free person must be punished.”

She jumped to her feet to stand facing him, hands on her hips. “Punished! She saved my life! The woman she killed was mad. If she had succeeded in killing me who would she have sought out next?”

He looked at his feet. “Me.”

She stamped her foot. “Exactly! Olve should be declared Queen of Strand for what she has done!”

He chuckled in an effort to lighten the tension. “That will be your role.”

She snorted and turned her back, arms folded across her chest, foot drumming the planking. He could not win this argument. He left while his limbs were still intact.

~~~

Kjartan greeted Reider at the door of the chamber. “Margit’s body has been removed.”

“Good, thank you. See that her body is returned to Heide as soon as feasible. And send another thrall to assist Ragna.”

He strode into the chamber, surprised to see it empty. “Where is the thrall? I instructed her to wait.”

“She insisted she must stay here, but when she collapsed, I deemed it prudent to move her to a sick bed. Ragna would not—”

“Collapsed?”

Kjartan nodded grimly. “Some weeks ago Margit kicked her in the belly. She was with child and says something broke inside that has not healed.”

Reider’s gut roiled. “Whose child was it?” he asked, suspecting he already knew.

“Gorm’s.”

Shame washed over him. He was reminded again that he had failed to see the depravity under his nose. “I have not been a good prince, Kjartan. I need to be more vigilant in the future.”

Kjartan put a hand on his shoulder. “You will be, Reider, with Ragna’s help.”

~~~

Ragna’s eyes blinked open. It was long past dawn. She had not expected to sleep after the events of the night. She stretched languidly, then became aware of Reider sitting in a chair nearby, watching her, his expression guarded.

Would she ever be able to look at him without desire tingling in her breasts and between her legs? She blushed and sat up quickly. “I didn’t hear you come back to the chamber.”

“You were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.”

He had made no move towards her. He still lounged in the chair, his long legs sprawled out in front of him.

A knot of dread wound itself round her heart. “What is wrong?”

He sat up. “Olve is dead.”

“Nnnnoooo!” She leapt off the bed and rushed at him, her fists flailing.

He came to his feet, caught her wrists and pulled her to his body, holding her tightly as she beat her fists against his chest. “I hate you all! You’re barbaric! I cannot live here. She saved my life and you killed her.”

She struggled and protested, but he remained silent and would not let go.

When she could sob no more, she swayed against him. He rested his chin on top of her head, and rocked her. “I did not kill her, Ragna. She was sick. She died because Margit kicked her in the belly when she was with child. She has known for a while that death stalked her.”

She took a shuddering breath. “You’re lying.”

He put his hands on her shoulders and forced her back. “I have many faults, Ragna, but I am not a liar. Do not accuse me of such a thing again.”

Again she had opened her mouth without thinking and impugned the honour of the man she loved beyond reason. “I’m sorry, Reider. But she died a slave.”

“I freed her before she died.”

The enormity of his actions, flying in the face of his people’s traditions and beliefs, struck her full force. He had done this out of respect for her, because he loved her.

She fell to her knees at his feet, head bowed, hands resting palms up on her thighs—a supplicant. “I beseech your forgiveness, Reider. I am not worthy to be your wife.”

He drew her to her feet. “Ragna, you have the blood of Vikings in your veins, the courage of a warrior and the heart of a lion. It is I who am not worthy of you. I need you by my side if I am to become a better man, a wiser ruler.”

He kissed her deeply. She had never felt more loved as he poured his desire into his kiss. She sucked his tongue into her mouth, echoing his growl with a groan of her own. “Reider—my Viking prince.”