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But she rough handled me, too. I have the marks to prove it.
She was a virgin; so the child Runa cannot be hers, as I suspected.
Then why the big secret? Why has she refused to discuss the child, or its father, with me?
In any case, Sidroc had decided over this past sennight to end his threat over Drifa’s head when he returned to Miklagard, as tempting as her charms were. Secrets be damned! Time to put the past behind him. If she came to his bed again, it would be her choice. But then, he expected to leave this land soon. Mayhap, as with Ianthe, ’twas best to cut ties and just be friends.
A strange laughter erupted in his head at the prospect of him and Drifa being just friends. But, nay, it was Leo laughing. Apparently the general had continued talking whilst Sidroc’s mind had gone a-wandering.
Finn excused himself and went off to check on his horse, which had a hoof disease he was treating. It would have to be healed before they left.
“So, the bastard turned on me once he went from military tent to soft bed?” Leo mused about the emperor once it was just the two of them. “As a fellow soldier, if nothing else, I thought John knew me better.” Leo appeared hurt at the actions of his old friend.
“I don’t think it’s so much the emperor as General Sclerus and Eparch Mylonas who have suspicions,” Sidroc told him. “As you know, the empire relies on you border lords to hold off the Moslems. And they depend on the taxes you funnel to the capital. But it’s your very strength that makes them fear you, meaning all the dynatoi. They’re afraid you might use that strength for your own ends. Leastways that is how Sclerus and Mylonas see things.”
“Pfff! Bugger the both of them! Just because I’m popular with my people and our lands flourish, just because more and more soldiers want to join my ranks, they figure I must be doing something wrong. Does it never occur to them that I am doing things right, as they should?” The general slammed a big hand on the table, causing the goblets of ale to teeter before righting themselves.
“I know this to be true, and it is what I will report to the emperor.”
“Will they be sending you to investigate the other dynatoi?”
Sidroc put up both hands. “Not me.”
“Are you sure you would not reconsider my offer to join my ranks? I would give you and Finn positions of authority. You would be well paid.”
“Nay. ’Tis past time I established my own homestead.”
“Why not here? I could give you land.”
“Again, I thank you for your offer, but I am a Norseman. ’Tis time for me to go home.”
And, actually, Sidroc had decided that his destination would in fact be the Norselands. He was tired of letting his father dictate his life. He would not settle in another country just to avoid proximity to his villainous family. Not too close, though. Mayhap he would seek an estate farther south in Vestfold. He would know the right place when he saw it.
Three days later, he and Finn were practicing swordplay with some of Leo’s soldiers when a messenger came riding in from the south. The closer he got, the more Sidroc stiffened with apprehension. He soon realized that he recognized the man. It was Farle, one of Drifa’s guardsmen.
This could not be good news.
Chapter Eighteen
The terrible trouble arrives ...
Drifa had been in Miklagard for more than two sennights, and she’d seen only a tiny portion of what she’d planned. Still, she was missing Runa fiercely.
So she decided to spend some time with Ianthe, who had become a good friend. She was bringing her sketch box with her, not just to show off her work, but in hopes that Ianthe could fill in some of the blanks about certain flowers that grew differently in this climate.
Ivar had rolled his eyes when she’d informed him of her plans. “Gardening again!” he complained. Really, Ivar was better suited to fighting her father’s battles with his battle-axe, not guarding her in yet another garden.
So she was not surprised that Ivar’s boredom had led to sleep when she went out to the hall that afternoon to inform him that it was time to go back to the palace. The palace gates closed at mid-afternoon, so they must hurry.
“Ivar!” she yelled with distress when she was unable to wake him.
At the same time, Ianthe yelled at her, “Drifa, come here at once.”
It was already too late. A masked man had come up behind her, lifting her off her feet and carrying her back inside.
“Oh my gods! You’ve killed my guardsmen,” she said in Greek, since she assumed that was his nationality.
“He is alive. Just an herb-induced sleep in his ale,” the man replied, also in Greek, but it was clear this was not his first language.
