He tried and mostly failed to block memories of the stories he had heard, all the ways the Norse could make a man suffer. Suffer for their enjoyment.
Aye, death would come welcome.
It used to be, long ago, that when a warrior died he had hope his spirit would fly away to the land ofTír na nÓg, to remain ever young and ever happy. Quarrie did not want that. Rather he would hope his spirit, loosed, would fly the short distance over the water to that stretch of stony shore he loved, to abide there for an age, and another age.
There could be no better reward. He had only to endure what must come first.
He turned his eyes to the island and blinked. Shock and outrage had him starting to his feet in the small boat, making it rock violently. For no fleet of longboats sheltered in the lea of the island. Only the one—the single dragon boat that had approached the settlement.
He had been fooled. The woman had nay honor, and had deceived him.
Bright and sharp, he felt the point of her blade in his back.
“Sit,” she hissed, “for the sake of the gods.”
Chapter Fifteen
“This is notthe man.” Ivor barked the words as soon as they got Quarrie MacMurtray onto the longboat. A very angry Quarrie MacMurtray he must be, and perhaps abashed also. Hulda, sitting behind him on the færing, had not been able to see his face when they rounded the isle and he caught sight of but one ship standing there in the inlet. But she had seen his whole body stiffen, tensed for fight.
She had lied to him and he knew it. What would he make of the ruse? He would be enraged, ja, bitterly so. She knew she would, in his place. He had turned himself over to her for no good reason, since she did not doubt he and his settlement could have fought off the number of warriors she had at her command.
She half expected him to strike out as he was hauled aboard, to fight the men who handled him, but Kettel had bound his hands and taken his sword, and though he no doubt had other weapons stashed about him, he could not reach for them.
Now he stood on the deck of her boat and, staring at him through the rain, Ivor said, “This is not the man.”
“What?” Hulda returned stupidly. Anger of her own, and heat, and a certain chagrin crawled up through her—for she had known it, in her heart she had. She turned her gaze on MacMurtray. So he had lied to her also.
His gaze met hers with a glint of green. I trusted ye,it said. Though the gods knew why he should.
She had wanted to trust him also—Freya knew why. So now they were even, ja?
She turned a face to Ivor that she hoped did not betray her chagrin. He was the last man to whom she would display weakness or folly.
“He told us he was the man and turned himself over to us.”
Ivor stepped up to her, his aggravation palpable. “Did I not say you should have taken me with you? I was there on that shore when Jute died. I saw the man who battled him and took his head. It was nothim.” Ivor swung round to sweep MacMurtray with another glare. “Had the look of him, ja, but it was an older man. One with authority. Mayhap the chief of the place.”
Hulda too looked at MacMurtray. She and Ivor spoke in their own tongue, which she doubted he could understand. But he was not a stupid man and must garner much from Ivor’s gestures and tone.
And ja, he must have expected this, if he thought anyone who accompanied her on this voyage had also been on that previous one.
His chin jerked up. He stood defiant. He must have some inkling of what they would do to him. He had sacrificed himself—for whom?
The person who had truly slain Jute.
“This is what happens,” Ivor carried on in front of her men, her crew, “when a woman is put in charge. You do not think with your head.”
“That is not true,” Hulda said with calm she did not feel, as dismay weighed upon her. She always used her head. Except…there had been something else in her exchanges with MacMurtray. Some undertow of emotion.
Had she let it distract her?
She eyed MacMurtray once more. He stood proud and composed. And what was she to do with him?
“Kill him,” Ivor pronounced precisely as if he heard the question in her head. He made a strong motion with his hand that MacMurtray could not fail to understand.
“Nei.” Hulda spoke instinctively, a visceral reaction.
Ivor swept her with a scornful look. “What else is to be done? He is not the man. If you wish to follow through with your plan, you will have to go back and secure the man who took Jute’s life.”
