The Heart's Warrior (23 page)

Looking askance at Jonas, she noticed he had his

mother’s eyes, deeply blue, intelligent and intense. Would he protect her, or stand aside and let them torment her?

Much depended on his actions. If he allowed such

treatment, his people would take their hatred out on her.

If not, they might come to respect her.

Jonas indicated the woman. “This is my mother, Tovi of Hawkscliffe. Mother, meet my wife, Kerstin of Moere.”

Kerstin nodded her acknowledgement. Tovi folded

her arms, her body stiff and unapproachable. Her critical gaze swept Kerstin, taking in every detail of her dirty, travel-stained clothes. Embarrassment heated Kerstin’s cheeks as she brushed at her wrinkled skirts. At least she had braided her hair and covered the fiery brightness with a coarse, woolen scarf. It did little to protect her from Tovi’s prying eyes.

“So, you’re the Witch of Moere.” Tovi’s voice was strong with censure.

Someone gasped and Kerstin saw a small child’s eyes widen with fright. “The Witch of Moere,” the little girl said. Those words alone condemned her.

“I am no witch.”

Tovi’s mouth tightened with disbelief.

A chill ran down Kerstin’s spine. Panic climbed her throat. She felt dizzy and her knees wobbled. The child’s mother picked up the girl and cradled her protectively.

Did she think Kerstin might cast a spell? What nonsense.

Kerstin longed to scream at them all to go away and leave her alone. She dared not. It would only make things worse.

Jonas remained silent, watching her with his deep 153

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blue eyes and a furrowed brow. If only he would say something.

She was so alone, with not one friend amongst them.

She meant them no harm, but they would never believe that. Lifting her chin, Kerstin returned Tovi’s glare. “I am Kerstin, daughter of Alrik, Earl of Moere, and wife to Jonas of Hawkscliffe.”

Silence followed her declaration. She heard the

waters ebbing and towing against the shore, the cries of gulls as they soared overhead. Kerstin’s head spun and she hoped they wouldn’t stand here all day.

Tovi faced Jonas, showing Kerstin her back. “You

have married her, then?”

He nodded. “We are wed.”

“Then King Hakon should be content.”

Without another word, Tovi headed up the path

toward the steading. Her step was no longer light, her shoulders slumped in defeat. Kerstin stared after her.

The throng of people followed Tovi, careful not to touch Kerstin as they passed by.

Soon, Kerstin was alone with her husband. “Well,

that went quite well,” she mumbled in a sarcastic tone.

Jonas didn’t answer, but his gaze moved to the top of the hill as he shifted his weight. No doubt, he wanted to go to his mother.

Fuming, she started up the incline. She would show him that she needed no coddling.

When he took her arm to help her climb the steep

path, Kerstin tried to pull away. “I don’t need your help.”

“You will have it anyway.”

As his fingers tightened on her arm, the

overpowering urge to cry swept her. She felt the scratch of tears but coughed and refused to let them fall. Sometimes she hated this man, yet when all others deserted her, he stayed close to see to her welfare even when he accused her of casting spells and witchcraft. In spite of her words, she found his hand on her arm comforting.

They continued up the hill. When they reached the wide yard of the steading, she moved away. “I can walk on my own, thank you.”

He pulled her around to face him. Startled, she

reached up and placed her hands against his chest, feeling 154

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his warmth against her palms. His face looked tight, his eyes narrowed.

Jonas gestured at the steading. “My father came here as a young man. He knew this would be a strategic place to build his home. See it is much like your father’s hall, difficult to approach from the east and south.”

Nodding her head, Kerstin listened, eager to know the history of his people and understand them better—to distract herself from their animosity.

“My father told me he went trading often with your father when they were young men before the feuds

between our people began. You are now Kerstin of

Hawkscliffe, my wife. This is your home. Our feud has ended and we
must
be at peace. I will tolerate no trouble here.”

He let her go and walked inside the hall. She stared after him, dumbfounded, fuming. How dare he insinuate she might cause trouble? Looking about, Kerstin found herself standing alone in the yard. The steading was much like Moere’s. Formidable, large and tidy. So different from the chaos and disrepair of Elezer’s hall at Lade.

Evening neared, the dusky sky a multitude of pinks and orange as the sun slid behind the shadowed hills. She caught the aroma of roasted pork and steaming

vegetables. Sheep bleated as they were brought in from the pastures. The lowing of contented cattle being milked came from the cow byre. Thralls lit the cooking fires and the air soon smelled of baking bread. Just like back at…home. Why, oh, why could she not have stayed at Moere?

Kerstin jerked around as a sudden thought struck

her. Had they found Letta? How could she have forgotten her brother’s wife? Hopefully she sat inside the hall, safe and eating her evening meal.

Drawing great drafts of cool air into her lungs,

Kerstin’s stomach settled and the first stirrings of hunger hit her. She hated to go inside, but knew she couldn’t stay out here all night.

Jonas spoke of peace. He said this was now her home.

The fool. Couldn’t he see her misery? She would never be accepted. His mother couldn’t stand the sight of her. In a 155

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matter of time, someone would murder her in her sleep.

She didn’t dare eat anything for fear of poisoning. When Sigurd returned, Tovi could insist Jonas throw her out.

The urge to flee pulsed in Kerstin’s veins. It would be so easy to race over the low hills and make her way back to Moere. She would follow the river and find her way, she’d done it before. But she would not go to Elezer. He had closed that path, not Jonas.

Kerstin sighed. She had given her word to Jonas,

taking vows she meant to keep. She must stay and make the best of her life here. Trudging to the hall, she went inside and stood within the doorway, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim interior.

Thrall women lit the wall torches and iron

candleholders. The air filled with the scent of dripping wax and wood smoke. Food lined the long tables. The handful of ravenous warriors who had remained with Jonas laughed heartily as the women scurried to fill their platters and drinking horns.

Kerstin stared in rapt attention. These men had

never been this relaxed while they stayed at Moere. Now that they were home, they fondled their women, teased their children, joked and laughed with one another, just as her own people did. They seemed human now, no

longer menacing warriors who sought her death.

With a wave of relief, Kerstin spied Letta sitting by herself in a corner of the hall, gnawing on a meaty bone.

She seemed content enough, oblivious to all around her.

Kerstin frowned when she saw Tovi serving Letta, holding out a plate of bread and cheese. Was she being a

considerate hostess or something more sinister?

Jonas sat at the head table, elevated on a dais above the rest. Once Letta received her food, Tovi set aside the platter and went to join him there. Taking her seat, she squeezed his arm as she asked him questions and listened to his answers.

No one acknowledged Kerstin. No one offered her a chair, or food. Anger boiled within her veins. As Jonas’s wife, she had a right to sit at the head table, to hold a position of honor within his household. Yet, he ignored her. With determined stride and narrowed eyes, Kerstin 156

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walked toward him. Without glancing Jonas’s way, she took the empty seat beside him, opposite his mother. She heard his acknowledging grunt and prayed he didn’t order her to leave. He could try, but she was prepared to fight him tooth and nail. She would not be demeaned in her new home.

People stopped eating and stared at her. The hall became quiet, the silence oppressive. Kerstin tensed. She felt Tovi’s eyes upon her, boring a hole in her head.

Looking up, she met Tovi’s gaze. No hatred rested in the woman’s expression, only hesitation and suspicion. Now Tovi ignored her and turned back to her conversation with Jonas.

For the most part, Jonas disregarded Kerstin. He

seemed to take her presence for granted. Once or twice, he reached out and brushed his knuckles against her arm and even fingered the end of her long braid. His touch made her shiver. He seemed so relaxed that he might have forgotten who she was and how she came to be here.

Though Kerstin could never forget.

His attention didn’t escape Tovi’s regard. Every time Jonas touched Kerstin, Tovi wore a worried frown. The rest of the time, she laughed at his quips and swatted his arm when he said something ribald. She watched her son’s face with tenderness glazing her eyes.

She loves him so much.
Tovi had lost one son. She wouldn’t want to lose another. The woman could be Kerstin’s best friend or greatest foe. If only Kerstin could prove she hadn’t killed Bjorn.

When thralls brought Kerstin food, she tried to eat, but her stomach tied in knots. Jonas scowled and

proceeded to fill her plate with tender beef, crisp vegetables, cheese and bread spread with creamy butter.

It remained untouched.

Twice, he reached across her to retrieve her goblet, then frowned when he found it still full of wine. He scowled with disapproval, but his eyes softened with concern. “Are you too upset to eat?”

“Aye.” Finally he took notice!

“‘Tis to be expected. You will feel better tomorrow.”

She hoped so. For hours, she sat there, until a dull ache throbbed in her lower back and her head pounded.

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The hall rang with loud voices as the warriors told the story of Jonas’s forced marriage. They embellished the tale until it made her appear a fool and Jonas a great hero who had sacrificed all by marrying her.

The warriors spared no details. Kerstin bit her

tongue as they related how her father finally agreed to the marriage and she had run away to Elezer.

Several women gasped at her audacity and

disobedience. Tovi tilted her head and remained silent.

Her pale eyes glowed as she looked at Kerstin, seeming to peer into Kerstin’s heart, seeking the truth. Did Tovi understand Kerstin’s fears? A new bride, living in a new home amongst people who hated her. Torn from the arms of the man she had once loved.

More stories were told, of how Kerstin had attacked the king’s party and shot Jonas with her arrow. Sitting silent, fury raced through Kerstin’s veins. Her cheeks heated with anger. How dare they make her the brunt of their jibes? Jonas shouldn’t allow it. As her husband, he should defend her. But he would not. They hated her, all of them.

When one of the men began the story of her wedding night, Kerstin clenched her fists in her lap and bit the inside of her mouth. Tovi listened with rapt attention as the man described how Jonas had collapsed from his wound and Kerstin cared for him, saving his life.

“She feared the king’s wrath,” the man remarked. “A blessing from Odin else Jonas would be dead now.”

Kerstin felt the blood drain from her face. She

started to rise from her seat, to yell at the man and call him a dull-wit. Jonas caught her hand and pulled her back down as his laughter filled the great hall.

Glaring at him, she tugged at her hand, but he

wouldn’t let go. If they were alone, she would have slapped the smile from his face.

His blue eyes twinkled. “It was my good fortune to wed a wife who can wound me with her arrow one day, yet save my life before the next day.”

The hall erupted into laughter. Kerstin bristled.

Wound him? She was angry enough to geld him.

Jonas squeezed her hand and she dug her fingernails into his palm. He flinched but otherwise ignored her.

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Instead, he laughed harder, seeming to enjoy himself.

“It’s not often that a man finds a wife as valiant as mine. She’s strong, a warrior-woman, yet all woman, gentle and graceful. Given to beauty and kindness. With time, I believe she’ll prove a valuable asset to our people.”

He looked at her and smiled. “We shall see.”

Kerstin swallowed. Was he serious, or did he make another jest? He appeared earnest enough, his eyes glowed with certainty and his mouth showed a warm smile. He relaxed his shoulders as he caressed her wrist with the callused pad of his thumb. Tingles of warmth swept her. He didn’t have to say such things, but he had.

Oh, she could have thrown her arms around him and kissed him for it.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The room went stone quiet and all gazes rested on her. She saw the doubt in his people’s eyes. The distrust.

Kerstin glanced at Tovi. The woman didn’t smile, but appeared reserved, her eyes piercing Kerstin’s soul. Then, she looked at Jonas. After studying him for several moments, she shook her head and turned back to her cup of wine.

The conversation resumed. Laughter and chatter

filled the hall, but something had changed. No longer did his people make Kerstin the brunt of their jokes. They looked at her with more openness, more curiosity and less accusation. Had this been Jonas’s goal all along? With his words of praise, he had opened their minds to accept her.

New respect for him burgeoned in her heart.

Gratitude filled her for his kindness.

“‘Tis an honor to fight on the side of our king,” one of the warriors said. “As soon as Jonas is well enough, we’ll join the battle and earn victory for our people.”