Desire's Fury (Viking's Fury Book 2) (14 page)

Roald scrubbed his face in frustration. He hadn’t given anyone permission to interrupt his interrogation. But his captain was injured and battle-weary. “Tie Markkos to a horse and take him to the longhouse. I will follow shortly.”

“Let me, milord.” Once again, the young Thorolf volunteered to help.

“Do it.” Roald gave his permission. “Keep him outside until I return. I don’t want my betrothed to find out her brother is a murderer unless I am there to comfort her.”

T
he children had
fallen asleep hours ago, leaving the women to worry in silence over their husbands and sons. Runa had come and gone several times, hoping to glean whatever information she could from the guards outside. Silvia rested fitfully. As for Eva—she never closed her eyes, but concentrated ceaselessly on Roald. She envisioned his face and shoulders, his chest and abdomen, his hips and legs. Doing so, had let her weave a protection spell over his entire body, shielding him from harm.

It wasn’t until Runa returned the fifth time that she broke her trance and stood. “Well?”

“Some of the fighters have returned.”

“Roald? Konal?”

“Konal is among them. But Roald is at the west village, comforting the families that lost loved ones.”

“More death?” Eva didn’t understand the need to shed blood. The occasional brawl broke out in her village between drunks, but she couldn’t remember a time when a murder had happened. “Our men are safe. And I sincerely hope none of Roald’s brave fighters have fallen.”

“Many are injured,” Runa informed her. “But I have been instructed to keep you here until my brother returns.”

“By who?” she demanded.

“Konal.”

Eva crossed her arms over her chest wondering if she should obey her future brother-in-law or not. If men were injured, they’d require her healing skills. “I am not willing to stay here if men are hurt.”

Runa shrugged. “I will not force you, Eva. But trust me when I tell you to heed my brother’s command.”

Any thought about it dissipated when the sound of shouting from the great hall filled the chamber. Even Silvia stirred, curious what was going on.

Runa opened the door and motioned for Eva to follow. They crept down the corridor and stopped short of the hall, listening intently.

“I don’t care what Jarl Roald said,” a man yelled. “The bastard has been found guilty of murder. Execute him now.”

“Listen to me…” Eva recognized Konal’s voice. “No one expects you to be thinking clearly. Your wife died today. But say another word against your master or incite a rebellion, and you will pay a heavy price.”

“You’d put me to death?”

“I’d whip you for insubordination and banish you from this house.”

The hall grew quieter then, only the low rumble of voices.

“Eva!”

Someone was calling her. Not from the hall, but maybe outside.

“Eva.” She heard it again.

As she started to move, Runa grabbed her arm. “Don’t go,” she warned. “You won’t like what you see.”

“Tis a risk I’m willing to take.” She entered the great hall, passing by a group of stunned warriors. As she neared the double doors, Konal blocked her path. “Move aside.”

Konal frowned and shook his head. “I can’t do it.”

“Eva!”

“Markkos?” Her heart skipped a beat as fear gripped her. “Why is my brother outside?”

“Return to the women’s solar,” Konal ordered, his lips formed into a thin line.

But nothing would dissuade her from reaching her brother. “Let me through, sir.”

Konal didn’t budge.

Overcome with desperation, Eva shoved him with all her might. But the giant man didn’t move an inch. She used her fists this time, hitting him repeatedly. Instead of retaliating, Konal simply caught her hands and held on tight.

“Why are you determined to keep me from my brother?” she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Because Roald wants to be here when you see Markkos.”

“I don’t care. Let me speak to him.”

Konal sighed and stared her directly in the eyes. “Is that a request or an order given by the lady of this steading?” He released her hands.

“An order.” She wiped her eyes, grateful for Konal’s help.

He bowed then and moved out of her way. “You will find him tied to the post at the center of the courtyard.”

She rushed outside, running to where Konal had said to go. She gasped at his sorry state, his face battered and bruised, his clothes torn and bloodied, and his hands tied behind his back. Surrounded by men holding lit torches, they were ridiculing him, calling him a coward and murderer.

“Eva.” Markkos spied her. “What have these barbarians told you?”

She edged closer, slipping between two guards. She gazed up at him, wondering why he was here. “Nothing,” she said soberly. “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve done to earn the scorn of these men?”

Markkos laughed bitterly. “You’d defend them instead of your own flesh and blood?”

The sad reality of her brother’s situation slowly sunk in. Roald had been generous the first time Markkos insulted and challenged him. There must be a grave reason behind his imprisonment. Something Eva very much wanted to know about.

“Tell me,” she pressed her sibling. “What evil have you committed? Are you responsible for the slaughter of Jarl Roald’s cattle?”

Markkos struggled against his bonds. “I won’t be questioned by a whore.”

One of the guards overheard his insult and came forward, jabbing Markkos in the gut with the butt of the torch. “Bite your tongue, coward. The next time you call my lady a whore, I’ll gag you.”

The young warrior faced Eva and bowed. “I am Thorolf, tasked with keeping this man in line until our master returns.”

Eva bowed her head. “I am grateful for your help, Thorolf. But this prisoner is my brother.”

“I know who you are.” Thorolf retreated into the circle of men.

“Speak to me while you have a chance, Markkos. Maybe there is something I can do to help you.”

“There is no help for a man who kills women and children.”

Eva froze when she heard Roald’s angry voice. She turned, finding him standing close behind her, his face and armor covered in blood.

“Are you hurt?” she asked.

“Not physically,” he said. “But my heart aches for the senseless loss of my people.”

Eva wanted to ease his suffering, but she dared not touch him. “What crimes is my brother charged with?”

“Theft. Murder. Destruction of property. And conspiring with one of my greatest rivals to overthrow me.”

Eva stumbled back a step, overwhelmed by the list of charges. She didn’t believe her brother capable. She looked at Markkos. “Is it true?”

“Yes,” he confessed. “All of it. And I’d proudly do it again to prove that I am capable of protecting our family. I will no longer remain idle while lowlanders take advantage of us—rape our women—steal our goods.”

Bile rose in Eva’s throat. “Even if Roald had committed such acts, death is not warranted. How could you take life unnecessarily? We are Sami, not cold blooded savages.”

“They are savages,” Markkos hissed. “Deserving of punishment.”

“As are you.” Roald said. “I found one of Jarl Magnus’s men alive. In exchange for a lifetime as a thrall, he was more than willing to tell me who you conspired with.”

Markkos scanned the crowd and Roald raised his hand.

“Bring the man forward,” he called.

Troel limped to the center of the circle with a man wearing a slave collar connected to a chain. “Speak.” Troel gave the chain a good tug.

“My former chieftain, Jarl Magnus, gave this man thirty warriors to attack and kill Jarl Roald. I swear upon Odin’s eye.”

Tears rolled down Eva’s cheeks. Why? How did Markkos come up with such a plan? Her brother wasn’t known for his intelligence, just a bad temper and overindulging in drink. There was nothing she could do to save him. He’d confessed and he was not in search of forgiveness or mercy.

Roald cradled her hands in his. “I am responsible for the lives of hundreds of people, Eva. And as my wife, you, too, will be expected to protect them. Markkos must be severely punished for his misdeeds. He must die.”

The finality of Roald’s words hit her hard. Though she recognized his right to execute her brother, she couldn’t let him go without a fight. His blood ties meant something. And for their mother’s sake, she’d plead for his life. “Please, Jarl Roald.” Eva fell to her hands and knees, resting her forehead on the ground in front of his feet. “I beg for mercy on behalf of my brother. He is undeserving. Evil-hearted and selfish. Do it for me—for my mother.” She stared up at him, then kissed the top of his boots. “Mercy, sir.”

*

That his beloved
Eva would sacrifice her dignity for a man like Markkos, only endeared her more to Roald. She’d lived a sheltered life in the mountains. He didn’t expect her to understand Norse justice. He rested a palm on her head, his heart swimming with tender feelings.

“Stand up, Eva.”

“I cannot,” she said. “Not as long as my brother is tied to that post.”

“Markkos murdered four of my thanes—freeborn women and their children. His life isn’t worth the cost of losing one of them. Regardless of my love for you, Eva, I cannot change the judgement of my captains. They have called for his blood. And I am sworn to avenge the death of Lamont. Look over there.” He pointed. “His father awaits my order to deliver your brother’s death blow.”

She sat on her heels, her wide, blue eyes focused on Roald. “Shedding more blood will not resurrect the slain. It will only raise the death count. I’m not asking you to forego punishment. My brother deserves to suffer. Innocent people have died. But I am sure he didn’t wield the weapon that cut your people down. Do his judges take that fact into consideration?”

“What proof do you have of this defense?”

“Check his hands for wounds. Men who fight with swords and knives usually cut themselves during battle. In the very least, you should find scratches or marks of some sort.”

A legitimate explanation, one he’d not thought of. His woman was wise beyond her years and would make a worthy queen. “I cannot deny the truth in what you say. Since you are the one who suggested it, you shall have the first look.”

Eva slowly climbed to her feet.

“Understand, woman, if there is even the slightest sign he picked up a weapon, this ends. He will die.”

She nodded, her eyes still full of unshed tears. It broke Roald’s heart, but this had nothing to do with his feelings for Eva. It had everything to do with his leadership—his willingness to exact punishment on the guilty, even if it meant killing his future brother-in-law.

“Harud. Thorolf. Secure the prisoner so Lady Eva can inspect his palms.”

His guards untied Markkos and as Eva approached, Thorolf forced one of his hands forward. “Open your fist or I will do it for you.”

Markkos tried to wrestle free, but was quickly overpowered.

“Brother,” Eva said. “I fight for you. Cooperate with me. If I can prove you didn’t physically kill anyone, you might still live another day.”

“What if I don’t wish to live, Eva? Did you ever think of that? I am ready to join our ancestors.”

“While I still draw breath, Markkos, you won’t get the chance to make that decision.” She looked at Thorolf. “Open his hand.”

The guard did as she commanded, squeezing Markkos’s wrist so hard he had no choice but to unclasp his fingers.

“Roald,” she cried. “Please confirm what I see. His hand is clean.”

Roald scrutinized Markkos’s palms, his knuckles, and fingers twice. Nothing stood out. Not a scratch or even a blood spot. In fact, for a man that supposedly relied on reindeer for his livelihood, his hands were incredibly soft, more like a woman’s. He inhaled deeply, knowing this changed things. Yes, the devil had conspired with his enemy, was likely the mastermind behind the attacks—but now he must present the new evidence to his captains. Roald had given them a say in this matter, to prove he valued their opinions.

“Keep him quiet while I meet with my men,” he addressed Thorolf. “As for you, Lady Eva, return to your chamber. Someone will fetch you when I’ve made my final decision.”

“R
egretting it now?”
Runa asked as Eva paced in her room.

“He is my brother,” she said. That should be explanation enough. The Norse valued family as much as the Sami did. Guilty or not, if she could save Markkos’s life by presenting solid evidence to show he hadn’t actually murdered anyone, she’d do it a hundred times. N
oaidi
preserved life. “Wouldn’t you do the same for Roald, Konal, or Haakon?”

“Maybe,” Runa said. “Though I’d like to kill Roald sometimes.”

Eva didn’t appreciate Runa’s sentiment at all. But what could she say? The family she was about to marry into had a long history of conflict. “Thinking about it, even talking about it, is much different than actually doing it.”

“Aye. I can see your point, Eva. And there are traditions that allow a man to compensate for taking the life of someone.”

“What?”

“
Weregild
. You pay the lord or the victim’s family for their loss.”