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the cold that was surely colder than death itself, and he was angry now, unwilling to believe that something strange had indeed happened, something that he hadn’t seen or understood. He snarled at her and leapt upon her, throwing her to her back on the rocky ground. Still, she didn’t scream, didn’t try to struggle against him. He lay on top of her, grinning now, spittle pooling on his lips, for his was an evil grin, a triumphant grin, and he said, ‘There was nothing strange, to well up within me, nothing foreign. ’Twas just a momentary dream, an instant of uncertainty, nothing more. I will plow your belly now and then I will take you back to my farmstead and you will become one of my concubines and know a life of servitude.’
“No sooner were the words out of his mouth than he felt himself lifted bodily off her. What man had the strength to lift him and hold him like this? Like he were naught but a small child? He tried to jerk free, but could not. No, he hovered over her, not more than six feet above her, looking down at her, stunned, unspeaking, words clogging in his throat. He didn’t drop back down to the ground as a man should when falling from a height. No, he wasn’t falling at all. He was going higher and higher, until finally he saw Selina still lying there on her back on the ground, just looking up at him. She smiled and called up to him, ‘Go higher, Parma, ’tis your ambition, isn’t it? Aye, as high as the clouds. Go, Parma. Your fate awaits you.’
“He kicked and thrashed about, but he continued to go higher and there was naught he could do about it. He was shrieking now with fear, struggling wildly against the unknown force that was holding him, yet even as he tried to turn onto his back, he was not able to. His body seemed frozen there, staring down at Selina, who was growing smaller and smaller, and he knew she was still smiling at him.
“He shrieked and shrieked. He wanted his release but he knew, too, if he were released he would die, for he would plummet back to the ground and be crushed against the rocks. Suddenly, without warning, he felt himself heaved forward, as if shoved by a mighty hand, and now he was no longer hovering over Selina, he was moving swiftly to the east. Then there was water beneath him, a vast sea of water, and his fear was so great that he couldn’t begin to understand what was happening to him. She must have cursed him, he thought, clinging to that, aye, she was a witch and none of this was really happening, it was a vision, an illusion brought on by her witch’s curse. He would find her and he would kill her, but all he did was move more quickly, shoved southward now by that mighty force. He was in the clouds and he couldn’t see through the white haze, and he was cold, shivering, his flesh blue, as blue as Grunlige’s hands had been after he’d shredded all the ice floes. He remembered Selina’s words. He damned her for a witch just as she’d damned him. He would die here, high above the earth, frozen to death in the clouds all because of a curse from a woman he would kill if only he could find her again.
“Then, very slowly, he began to descend from the sky. The air grew warmer and he felt himself once more able to think, to see, to reason. He could see the earth clearly, the rocks, a narrow stream, the brilliant green of the grass. He was not plummeting downward, but gliding smoothly and slowly, ah, he felt like a magician, and began to wonder if it had been he who had raised himself, if he had finally come into his own. Aye, it had to have been he who had climbed upward and begun to fly.
“He believed this, now smiling as he drew closer to the ground. He was warm again, feeling the blood course through him. He waved his arms about to change his direction. He changed direction. He laughed aloud with his marvelous discovery. Ah, there was nothing he couldn’t do now. The gods had granted him the power. He kicked his feet and rushed forward through the silent warm air, then slowed. He laughed aloud and set about to test his new abilities. But before he could wave his arms again or kick his feet, he fell like a stone the remaining short distance to the ground, as if he’d been released and thrown downward, landing at the feet of a large bearskin-clad man, a warrior, perhaps even a berserker, huge and strong, a mighty sword held in a bandaged hand.
“That warrior was Grunlige the Dane. His hands were still bandaged, but he seemed to hold that sword easily. He stood straight and tall, as proud as he had been before the tragedy had struck him. And he said, ‘You are Parma and you dared to touch my wife. Do you know what I will do to you?’
“Parma stared up at Grunlige, openmouthed in disbelief. He shook his head dumbly, unwilling to believe it was really Grunlige. It couldn’t be Grunlige. He gained courage. He said, his voice brash and arrogant, ‘You should be dead. You went off to die. You are dead. You are merely some remnant of a man, some lost shadow that has yet to fade into oblivion. This is naught but your shell, for you are nothing, just a voice and an illusion propped up by the air that surrounds us. I have raided your holdings, stolen your cattle, and plundered your ships. You were not there when your men cried out for your help.
“ ‘Now we are far away from your homeland and mine. What is this place? Where are we? You cannot be Grunlige, for he stands not tall and proud anymore. He is pathetic, probably dead now by his own hand.’
“Grunlige stared down at him, unmoving, and smiled. ‘Shall I tell you, Parma, exactly what I am and where we are? What would you like to hear first, you vile coward?’
“ ‘I will fly away from you, and then I will come back and slay you!’ Parma jumped to his feet, flapped his arms, but nothing happened. He climbed atop a high rock and jumped off, flailing his arms wildly, kicking his feet. He heard Grunlige the Dane laugh, a laugh as wicked and frightening as a laugh from the Christians’ hell. Parma didn’t soar into the heavens, he fell hard once again at Grunlige’s feet. He screamed with rage, ‘It is the witch again! She has stolen my powers. Damn her for all time!’
“Grunlige said very softly, even as he raised his foot above Parma’s head, ‘Heed me, fool. You have no powers, only vanity and guilt and a stupid man’s arrogance. Now you will gain what you deserve.”’
Laren stopped. She smiled at the men and women and children, all of whom were staring at her, their attention focused solely on her. Cleve was smiling and nodding at her, Taby asleep on his lap.
“Continue,” Erik bellowed. “I grow tired of your waiting! Damn you, what happened? What did Grunlige do? Did he send his foot into Parma’s skull? Where in the name of the gods are they?”
She shook her head. “I am but a woman, my lord Erik, and must rest now. Forgive me. My brain and my throat are sore and need to recover. Perhaps by tomorrow night I will be able to continue.”
There were murmurs of protest, and Erik looked as though he would explode, for even as a child, he would sit before the skald listening so intently that their mother could call him and he would not hear her. Merrik laughed as he rose, and said quickly, “Nay, all of you be quiet. It is her way. She stops not because she has any supposed weakness of a woman, nay, she leaves you purposely dangling, hooked like bait on a fishing line. Don’t wriggle about. Yawn and tell her she did fairly well but you really don’t care what happens next. It will drive her mad with doubts and make her less arrogant in her skills.”
He laughed again and turned to Erik. “Well, brother, what do you think of my new skald, my female skald?”
Erik just looked at Laren. Suddenly, Merrik didn’t like the way he was gazing so intently at her. He didn’t want that kind of trouble. By all the gods, he didn’t want to have to quarrel with his brother, tell him to leave her alone, but he would have to if Erik decided he wanted to bed Laren. He didn’t know why he would have to, but he knew he would. He looked at Sarla, who was, in turn, staring at her husband. She knew, Merrik thought, she knew. Indeed, it was difficult for her not to know. Two of Erik’s bastards were here in the longhouse, both boys, although the youngest had not yet gained a year. But Kenna was strong and healthy and the very image of his father. And their mothers were there, too, and as far as Merrik knew, both Megot and Caylis still shared his brother’s bed.
But Sarla had no children as yet. She and Erik had been wed for two years now and as yet her
belly hadn’t swelled with child. Merrik sighed. He didn’t like this. He walked to Cleve and held out his arms for Taby.
He gathered the child to him, then went to search out some blankets, Taby held securely in the crook of his arm. He saw Laren looking at him. It was the first night he had kept Taby with him. He walked to her and said, “I will see to Taby tonight.” He paused a moment, studying her upturned face. Her face was flushed from the heat and from her success. He smiled at her, and to his surprise, she smiled back. It was a lovely smile and he felt the warmth of it all the way to his belly. Yet he wanted to see her smile again and yet again. But not now, not at him. So he turned away, saying as he did so, “You will stay close to the longhouse. Remain by Sarla’s side. I will decide where we will go soon.”
In her hand were seven small silver pieces. She closed her fist over them, holding them close. They tingled against her flesh. Perhaps they were enough to buy her freedom and Taby’s and Cleve’s. She said, “I would speak to you, Merrik, perhaps on the morrow. It is important.” Then she was uncertain. She had eleven pieces of silver. Surely that was a lot of silver, but she had no idea what she or Cleve were worth in the slave market. “Perhaps I can speak to you not tomorrow, but later, perhaps in three or four days. Or perhaps I can question you about certain things, about the value of things.”
She’d said nothing about Taby, sleeping soundly, now cupped in one of his arms against his shoulder, and that surprised him. “Your meaning is as clear as a piece of bog ore. Nay, don’t try to confuse me or yourself more. Now, I would have a promise from you. Do you swear you will stay close to the longhouse and to Sarla?” She frowned at him, then nodded, not understanding. He knew she didn’t, but said nothing more.
Early the next morning when she went to relieve herself, she came out of the privy to see Erik standing there, his hands on his hips.
“I have been waiting for you,” he said, and he smiled at her.
“Why?” He frowned and she quickly added, “My lord.”
“That is better. I am the lord of Malverne and you are naught but a slave. It is good you don’t forget that. You are comely, Laren. You are still much too thin, but I shall take care not to grind myself against your bones.”
“Why would you wish to do that?” But she knew what he wanted now, she recognized the lust in his eyes, and his supreme confidence. He wanted her and he would have her, and she recognized the certainty in him. But she would feign ignorance until she could think of something, anything . . .
“Actually, Merrik tells me you are still very thin but you don’t look thin with your gown and tunic covering you. I will remove your clothes, look at you and study you and decide for myself.”
Still, she merely cocked her head to the side and looked at him like a questioning half-wit. “My lord, I will go assist your wife now. I make an excellent porridge.”
