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SHE STARED AT Taby, then said, her voice as smooth as the soft hair on Merrik’s belly, “That’s because I’ve told you stories about magical creatures. I must have told you about a unicorn. Come now, sweeting, go play with Eila. See, she wants to throw the ball to you. Do play with her, Taby, it will keep her thumb out of her mouth.”
Merrik started to say something, then stopped. He watched Taby run over to the little girl who was able to hold the feather-filled leather ball in one hand, and keep the thumb of her other hand in her mouth.
Laren quickly moved away from him, not wanting his questions, at least now. Olaf Thoragasson said to her, “You brought us into your story. It is good. No skald has ever before done that. I will speak to Merrik about buying you.” Before she could say anything, before she could do naught more than shudder, he’d left her and was walking toward Merrik, rubbing his big hands together.
Letta frowned after her father. When she turned back to Laren, she said, “It has stopped raining. Merrik and I will go for a walk down to the fjord. I think I will let him kiss me. He will know what it is like to kiss an innocent virgin.”
“Ah, so you will let him practice on you, Letta?”
The girl moved quickly, whirling about, the palm of her hand cracking hard against Laren’s cheek. Laren stumbled back with the force of the blow, and Letta hit her again, this time shoving her onto the ground.
Laren knew she should accept the blows, knew indeed that she’d called them upon herself with her mocking words, but she couldn’t stop herself. She jumped to her feet and was upon Letta in an instant. She wrapped Letta’s two thick braids around her hands, winding and winding, until the girl was yelling and crying and but inches from Laren’s face.
“Listen to me, you ill-bred witch. You will not ever strike me again. If you dare, I will remove all your pretty white teeth, one by one.”
She quickly unwound the thick braid and gave Letta a shove. She fell back into Merrik’s arms. Letta saw quickly who it was who was holding her, burst into tears, and whipped around, pressing herself against him, sobbing into his chest.
Merrik looked at Laren over her head. He saw the imprint of Letta’s hand on her face, and the rage, and then he saw the instant she realized what she’d done.
Olaf Thoragasson lunged forward like an enraged bull. He saw Erik rubbing his hands together. Quickly, Merrik lifted Letta off the ground and handed her to her younger brother, the one who had so charmingly and witlessly given Laren his mother’s brooch, and not, Merrik doubted, for the wondrousness of her tale. He stepped to Laren, grabbed her arm, and hauled her against his side.
He said both to her and to all who were staring at them, “She is my slave. I will see to her punishment.”
Erik said, “And her punishment, brother? I wonder how severe it will be.”
“Were she stronger I would whip her. But she isn’t strong enough yet to survive it. She will cook for the next three days. Sarla, will you make her obey you when I am not present to do so?”
Sarla grinned widely at her and shook her fist. “Aye, Merrik, I will hit her with a pot if she doesn’t willingly do the cooking.”
“No insolence from you, Sarla!” Erik was flushed with anger as he strode toward his wife, his right hand a sudden fist.
“It wasn’t insolence, brother,” Merrik said, jerking Laren with him as he moved into Erik’s path. “She was simply jesting. A simple jest, nothing more.”
“Still, I won’t have her speaking to you like that.”
“If I took offense then I would tell her so. Forget it, Erik.”
“ ’Tis none of your affair, brother.” Erik paused a moment, then turned quickly, sidestepped his brother, and struck Sarla open-palmed on her face. “There,” he said, watching her struggle to keep her balance, her hand rubbing her cheek. “You will mind your tongue in the future.” He turned to Merrik. “You see how you must treat a wife. No more will I have to bear her insolence, no more.”
Merrik’s hands were fisted at his sides. Laren ran to Sarla, but Erik shoved her aside. “Keep away from her, slave. By all the gods, you push me to violence.”
There was no sound for several moments—just the sight of Sarla, tears running down her face, the men and women all still in their places, afraid to say a word. Even the children were qui
et, staring at their parents, uncertain what to do.
Then Letta shrieked, “She said she would pull all my teeth out! One by one! Hit her, Merrik, she deserves it.”
Merrik easily controlled the laughter welling up inside him, laughter mixed with his absolute fury at Erik. It was a helpless fury, for he knew he couldn’t gainsay his brother in his own longhouse. He realized in that moment that he had to leave, he had to find a new home where he would be master. He turned to Letta and said, “You gave as good as you got, Letta. She is a skald. Of course she could frighten you with the imagery of her words. Hold your peace now, ’tis over.”
He turned to look at the faces of his men; at Deglin, who looked disappointed that he wasn’t whipping her right then, right there; at Old Firren who was whittling a chair post, his eyes fixed on his work; and finally at Cleve, whose face was white with the effort it cost him to keep still. Taby, thank the gods, as well as the other children, had turned away, all of them playing again, shouting and arguing, seeing nothing now. Thoragasson’s men looked uncertain, many looking in any direction if Letta wasn’t in it. He imagined they didn’t have much affection for Letta, and they much more enjoyed Laren’s stories. Merrik looked at Sarla. Her head was down, and he knew she was humiliated, crushed by her husband’s actions.
He saw that Letta would say more, and quickly added, “Until it is time for her to sweat over the fire pit, I will take her to the fields and she can work there.” He didn’t add that he would be working next to her.
Without another word, he dragged her out of the longhouse. He knew she would have willingly gone with him, but he thought an impression of reluctance, perhaps fear, on her part, would calm everyone’s ire.
The sun was bright overhead. The ground was still damp, but the sun had dried most of the mud puddles. She suddenly dug in her heels and yelled, “Stop dragging me!”
He turned and grinned down at her. “It was a good act. But now there’s no more need for it.” He released her arm and said over his shoulder, “Follow me and be quick about it.”
