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Celiese shook her head. “That is a prayer I will never speak, for I am blameless for all that has happened to me, and I will never deny I love Mylan or say I am ashamed to be his.”
Seeing the small chain around her daughter’s neck, Marie withdrew it carefully, fascinated by the delicate silver charm. “What manner of magic is this?”
“It is the hammer of their god, Thor. I have not adopted Mylan’s religion, but I wear it still.” Taking the charm from her mother’s grasp, Celiese dropped it down again inside her neckline where it would be safe from harm. She had no desire to have it yanked from around her throat, as she was afraid her mother was about to do.
Horrified that her daughter had embraced such evil pagan ways, Marie shrank back. “I wish you had died with your father, for you were the dearest of daughters but now you are a traitor to his memory, no more than some despicable Dane’s whore! Leave this sacred ground and do not return until you are ready to make peace with God by begging Him to forgive your sins, as you must know in your heart you should!”
Backing slowly toward the door, Celiese thought the woman before her a stranger, her mother no more. “I thought you would understand everything I wished so badly to confide in you, but you have understood nothing. You are consumed with hatred, while you dwell in a house you call holy. Your heart is as cold as these ancient stone walls, and I am truly sorry I have come here today if you would have preferred I remained dead.”
Celiese ran from the room, sobbing as though her heart were broken, for indeed it was. If she was deemed unfit to be her own mother’s daughter, she had lost her again and it was no less painful this time.
Chapter 20
Celiese dried her eyes hastily on her sleeve before she rushed through the convent door but she did not realize the bright red print of her mother’s hand remained plainly visible upon her left cheek. She walked to where her mount, a pretty bay mare, stood grazing and picked up the reins. Swinging herself upon the animal’s back, she turned toward the path and called to her companions, “There is no need to linger here, let us be gone.”
Mylan scrambled to his feet, leapt upon the stallion’s back, and with only gentle urging the animal drew alongside Celiese’s mare. “Well, have you nothing to report? I expected you to spend the whole day talking with your mother; what happened?” He saw the trace of tears gleaming upon her long lashes and thought perhaps she had been happy enough to cry until he noticed the telltale mark upon her cheek and realized instantly what sort of reception she must have received. His heart fell, for he knew how high her hopes had been and how truly devastated she must feel.
“My mother appears to be well.” Celiese lifted her chin proudly, searching for another comment she might make that would be the truth without inflicting the agony she had just suffered upon him as well.
Confused by that less than revealing remark, Mylan encouraged her to say more. “She was not too shocked by your sudden appearance, I hope.”
A deep breath failed to calm her ravaged emotions, and she responded softly, “Naturally she was as astonished to find I am alive as I was to learn she had survived Raktor’s assault upon our home.” She turned to see if André followed, using the time to wipe her eyes again while Mylan could not see the gesture.
“You had little time for a serious conversation, but did your mother not have some words of advice for you?” He sincerely hoped the woman would have cautioned her daughter, if not forbidden her entirely, to pursue the cause of reclaiming her estate from Hrolf. He would welcome help from any quarter in making the headstrong young woman see reason and hoped her mother had foreseen the danger Celiese did not.
Celiese bit her lip, forcing back a fresh flood of tears, her concern far different from his. “Yes, she is content and tried to influence me to enter the convent, too.”
“What does that mean?” he pressed her to explain, the complexities of the Christian religion were beyond his scope of knowledge.
“Young women, as well as widows, are accepted by the Order of Saint Valery.” Celiese hesitated a moment, attempting to make her mother’s hysterical demand sound more reasonable than it had been. “She invited me to join with her in the service of God.”
Mylan reached out to catch her mare’s bridle, jerking the startled horse to an abrupt halt. “Women do not come and go as they please there, do they?”
“Well, no.” Seeing he did not understand, she explained more fully. “Once a woman enters a religious order, she remains there until her death.” Surprised by the flash of anger brightening his amber eyes, she inquired as to its cause. “Why are you so concerned with our religious customs?”
Furious that she did not even seem to realize what she was saying, he sneered menacingly, “Your mother simply said, ‘Good day, how are you, dear, and why don’t you leave your husband to take up residence here?’ Is that what she said to you?”
“Please, we need not discuss this in the middle of the road.” André had been following closely, but had pulled his mount to a halt also so he might remain at a discreet distance, but she was embarrassed to have him see them arguing again even if he could not understand her words.
“Our surroundings hardly matter! Did your mother demand you leave me without giving me the slightest opportunity to impress her favorably? I expected to speak with her, for a few minutes, at least.” He could not believe any woman could be so unreasonable, even a French one. He thought she would have been consumed with curiosity about her daughter’s husband.
Celiese sighed sadly, sorry he had not accepted her presence as proof of what her response had been. Reaching out to touch his sleeve lightly, she again shielded him from her mother’s wrath. “Please forgive my mother’s rudeness, but her memories are such that she cannot accept my description of your fine character as the truth. I did not remain with her, but am here with you, is that not proof enough of what my response to her invitation must have been?”
Smiling bravely, she continued, “Please let us return to the village. André was kind enough to lend us these mounts, but I am certain our journey has tired them.” When she attempted t
o turn her mare away, he released the reins and gave no further comment on any subject until the small settlement came into view.
As they had the previous day, the peasants came forward, quietly observing Celiese and her tall companion as they dismounted in front of André‘s cottage. Not pleased by their unwanted attention, Mylan sought a way to avoid it. “Where are these animals stabled? I do not mind taking them there and seeing to their care.”
Celiese conveyed his offer to André, but the man refused to consider accepting the Viking’s help. He would not reveal where the village hid their livestock for fear their animals would swiftly be stolen or slaughtered. He gave another excuse, however, but Celiese understood the true reason for his reluctance and thought his thinking as illogical as her mother’s. “I am sorry, Mylan, he says he enjoys working with animals as he has since his youth and requires no assistance. He hopes you will not be offended.”
Mylan handed over the stallion’s reins without comment, but his gaze had grown dark. “I will pay him then, for the use of the horses.”
Celiese did not bother to translate that offer since she knew it would be refused. “I think you might leave some gift when you sail, he’d not accept pay for helping us. He was a part of our family.”
Disappointed he could not reward André immediately for his help, Mylan reached out to take Celiese by the hand. “Well, at least thank him for his help. I want to look at your house again, without being followed by the entire village this time. Is that possible?” he realized he sounded angry, and he was, but he did not want Celiese to think she was the cause of his foul mood.
She smiled at the people who had begun to gather. “I can think of no polite way to refuse their company if they wish to give it, but I am certain you are the only good-natured Dane they have had an opportunity to observe and you can understand their curiosity.” Good-natured was perhaps not the way to state it; he was the only one without a blood-drenched sword in his hand was a more likely description, but she kept the horror of that image to herself.
