The Heart's Warrior (34 page)

Tovi moved aside to let Kerstin look at the ax wound.

She prodded the gash. “It’s not too bad, I think. The man’s aim was poor, and for that, you were lucky.”

He gave a chilling laugh. “I remedied the oversight by placing my sword point through his gullet.”

Kerstin grimaced at his blunt jest. War was so ugly and cruel.

As she worked over him, Tovi left and returned soon with Kerstin’s bag of healing herbs. Letta ran to fetch clean linen for bandages. They seemed to know exactly what she needed. Soon, they would be adept healers.

Kerstin nodded her thanks.

Tovi left them and Kerstin realized the woman

treated her with new respect. Everyone else blamed her for Sigurd’s death. Yet, his widow seemed to understand.

Tovi had the power to make her life miserable and Kerstin was grateful for her deference.

Letta stayed close by, offering Einar a juicy slab of roast boar laid upon a thick slice of bread. He ate ravenously, gulping wine to deaden the pain of his wound.

The fire in the pit was hot. A side of venison broiled over the flames on a giant spit. Sweat rolled off Einar and Kerstin thought he had a fever, yet he shook with chills.

They were alone, with only Letta sitting close by on a bench. All the people had gone outside to welcome the warriors.

Kerstin cut away the cloth of his pant leg and peeled it back from the wound. It hadn’t putrefied and she would cleanse it well.

“Have you seen Father recently? And Thorir?” she

asked as she worked.

“I left both of them early this morning. Both are well.

They send you and Letta their regards.”

Releasing a sigh of relief, Kerstin wrapped her skirt around her hand and lifted a cauldron of water off the hook hanging over the fire. She poured a liberal amount of the liquid into a dish and sprinkled chamomile into it to steep. The pungent aroma filled the air around them.

“And what of the king? Is he well?”

“Aye, but he is worried.”

Glancing up, Kerstin frowned. “Why? He’ll defeat the Eirikssons, won’t he?”

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Einar closed his eyes and leaned his head back to rest against the high top of his chair. Kerstin noticed his eyes had dark circles beneath them. His beard was unkempt, his face lean.She shook her head. “You look weary. You haven’t taken care of yourself. When have you eaten last?”

“This is a time of war.” He spoke without opening his eyes. She didn’t argue as she cleansed the wound with a soft, damp cloth dipped in chamomile water. “Why is the king so worried?”

“We have a traitor in our midst. Father has

suspected it for some time. The Eirikssons always seem to know our position. Though we have more men, we’ve sustained heavy losses.”

“You can’t discover who it is?” Kerstin paused in her chore and stared at her brother’s drawn features. She shifted her knees on the hard floor as Letta leaned nearer to catch every word.

Einar rolled his head against the hard back of the chair. “We’ve tried to find out. The bastard deserves to die. Hundreds of our men have been slaughtered because of him.”

Letta’s forehead crinkled with thought. “It could be a woman.”

“I don’t think so.” Einar shook his head and opened his eyes, their normal sparkle dulled by pain. “It must be a man. Someone privy to our battle plans.” He looked at Kerstin. “You’re the only woman I know of that fights alongside the men. The traitor must be someone who’s been at the battle front and knows our every move.”

“I was there recently, when I tried—” Kerstin’s voice broke. “When I tried to save Sigurd’s life. But I was never privy to any battle plans.”

Dread clouded her mind. Someone might blame her

for being the traitor. Surely they could not suspect her.

And yet, she seemed to be blamed for many things that weren’t her fault, merely because people believed her a witch.

Shrugging, Einar heaved a great sigh. “We’ll discover the truth, but you and Letta could help.”

A grim smile curved Letta’s mouth, her eyes clear, 232

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without a trace of lunacy in them. Einar’s presence seemed to give her confidence and perhaps hope. “What can we do?”

Kerstin tilted her head as she dipped the cloth into the dish of chamomile and wrung it out again. Drops of water tickled her fingers and she wiped them away. “Yes, tell us. I’d do almost anything to end this war.”

He smiled with fondness. “You’re intelligent and

alert. You both can watch and listen.”

“But who can we trust, Einar?”

His gaze dropped to the floor and he stared at

Kerstin’s ankles peeking from beneath her skirt. “Your husband.”

“Jonas? You trust my husband?”

“More importantly, Father trusts him, and that’s

good enough for me.”

Kerstin wasn’t so certain. Jonas blamed her for so much. She couldn’t stand to be married to a man who believed her a witch. It was obvious he still loved his dead wife, and even if she proved she hadn’t killed Bjorn, Jonas would never forgive her for Olga and Sigurd’s deaths. She felt alone, cast adrift in a sea of suspicion and heartache.

He wanted her body, but nothing else. Under these conditions, their marriage couldn’t last.

Kerstin offered Einar an herb to ease the pain. He sipped the bitter concoction and his Adam’s apple bobbed when he coughed. After she completed her work on his leg, he fell asleep. Two men carried him to a quiet place where he could rest. When certain he was comfortable, she went to her room and changed her clothes and

brushed her damp hair.

By the time she returned to the hall, the warriors sat at the long table, feasting and drinking as if this were their last meal. No doubt they had delayed Jonas’s departure while they gathered more supplies to take to the king’s army.

Thralls raced back and forth to the kitchen, packing great platters of meat, porridge, cheese, breads and vegetables to feed the ravenous men their morning meal.

Others filled the drinking horns with honey mead, ale, and fresh milk.

Jonas sat at the head table. In one hand, he held his 233

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gold drinking horn full of frothy white milk. His choice of drink amused Kerstin, yet in the short time she had known him, she learned he wasn’t given to drunkenness.

He kept his wits clear.

His face darkened ominously as he chewed a piece of meat. Elezer sat on his right and Jonas listened with ill-concealed irritation as the man gave him more

instructions from the king. Kerstin could tell by Jonas’s fierce expression he barely tolerated Elezer’s presence.

Hiding a smile, Kerstin admired Jonas’s forbearance.

She would have sat beside him, but decided to stay as far away as possible in case Elezer decided to incite more trouble.

Loud laughter filled the hall. Hounds barked and

snapped as they fought over scraps tossed on the floor.

Tovi directed the thralls, ordering extra flatbread be made for the men to pack on the ships. Kerstin saw Letta at the back of the hall, sitting beside Einar, staring at his sleeping face. God willing, Thorir would soon return and Letta and her husband would leave for Moere.

Remaining at the back of the hall, Kerstin helped serve the men. As she poured ale into their drinking horns, she glanced up and saw Elezer looking at her, his eyes narrowed and glittering with warmth.

Her skin crawled and she felt repulsion. She looked away, praying Jonas hadn’t noticed. She didn’t want to encourage Elezer and start a fight between the two men.

“I understand you were at the battle front two days ago,” Elezer said loudly to Jonas. “Did you by chance hear any news of the traitor?”

A hush fell over the hall. Jonas’s men glared at

Elezer and stiffened in their seats. Kerstin swallowed and her eyes widened. Did Elezer insinuate that Jonas was the traitor?

Jonas took his time to respond. He reclined in his tall-backed chair and rested a hand upon the dragon carved armrest. But his eyes! They gleamed like specks of fine flint. Kerstin knew her husband well enough to understand he was anything but calm. His shoulders tensed, ready to spring into action with the speed of a cat.

“I believe someone mentioned it to me, but we

returned with haste for my father’s funeral,” Jonas 234

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replied in an even tone.

“I can understand why you left rather than staying to fight with the men.” Elezer’s gaze rested on Kerstin, his voice tinged with resentment and accusation. Did he now intimate that Jonas was a coward? He had never seen Jonas in battle if he thought such a foolish thing.

Kerstin picked up another pitcher of ale and

continued to serve the men. As soon as she was able, she would steal away to her room and stay there until Elezer left. “Kerstin.” Jonas called to her from across the hall.

She flinched, every nerve in her body tingling.

“Come join me, wife.” He beckoned to her.

The sharp glint in his eyes belied his easy manner. If Elezer stepped out of line, Jonas would kill him. Why would he allow Kerstin near the other man? It was the last thing she wanted.

Kerstin stammered in confusion. Sudden doubt filled her. Jonas wouldn’t make her a spectacle, would he?

Surely he wouldn’t embarrass her here, in front of their people.

Their people.
Yes, this was now her home. She belonged here with Jonas, yet they couldn’t seem to make it work. Not without trust. Regardless, she wouldn’t tolerate any cruel games.

Walking to her husband, she set the pitcher of ale on the table and took a seat beside him. He gave her a stiff smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. She purposefully kept her gaze away from Elezer, her mind broiling with turmoil.

A thrall filled her plate with meat, cheese, bread, and blueberries. She leaned against the wooden table as Jonas engaged her in conversation.

He dipped his head close to hers and she felt his warm breath against the nape of her neck. He pressed a languid kiss against her lips. It seemed Jonas baited Elezer, and a shiver of apprehension swept her.

“Your brother Einar is well?” he asked her as he

placed another kiss against her temple.

She nodded, her throat too dry to speak.

“And your father? Did Einar bring you news of him, too?”

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“Both my father and Thorir are well,” she croaked.

Satisfied with her words, he squeezed her hand and sat back in his chair. His consideration warmed her heart.

Perhaps he had no ill motives but was simply thoughtful of her.

She caught Elezer’s angry glare and thanked her

lucky stars she had never married him. How had she ever loved him?

Within the hour, a man with gout asked Kerstin for a remedy. Another complained of a toothache and sought her advice. Many of Jonas’s people still did not trust her, but others did and, more and more, she became one of them.

Elezer stepped away from the table and only then did Jonas leave Kerstin while he walked about the hall and mingled with his men. Letta trailed close beside him, listening intently to his conversations. Soon, she wandered over to where Kerstin sat alone.

“Can you believe the good news? My Thorir is alive.

He’ll come for me soon.” Letta’s tone sounded merry as she spoke of her husband.

“I’m so glad.” A lance of joy speared Kerstin’s heart.

She loved her brothers and was overjoyed to see Letta so happy. Kerstin offered a silent prayer they all remained safe. “If only you could be as joyful as me.” Letta frowned as her gaze moved to rest on Jonas.

Kerstin wished the same.

She watched the new Earl of Hawkscliffe as he

paused in his conversation with his captains. Kerstin felt his gaze like a leaden weight as he watched her in return.

Elezer stood beside Jonas, his eyes and mouth scrunched in a sullen frown, his ears and face a reddish hue. Had Jonas threatened him again?

Anskar, a young man who served as Jonas’s runner, sat beside the door, waiting patiently. Dressed in lightweight clothing that would not hinder him, he held a rawhide sack draped over his left shoulder filled with food and water. He wore an ax and dagger sheathed on his hip.

Jonas must be preparing to send him on a mission.

Jonas nodded his head. Anskar hopped to his feet

and took off out the door. The errand must be important 236

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for Jonas to send him at this time of day. Perhaps Anskar went to the king with a message. Jonas would be leaving soon. Why didn’t he take the message himself?

Anskar would go by land, racing over hill and dale, forging streams and trails. He would never stop until he reached his goal or dropped dead. It would be much easier and quicker to travel by ship. It didn’t make sense.

Jonas stared after the lad, his brow creased with worry. Perhaps Anskar carried news of the traitor. Jonas showed a thoughtful frown, seeming not to hear what Elezer said to him. If she got the chance, Kerstin would ask Jonas about it later on.

She made her way to the fire pit where she left her bag of healing herbs. The flap was open and several packets of dried herbs had been scattered on the floor.

Someone must have knocked it over, perhaps one of the hounds.

With a shrug, she picked up the packets and placed them back inside the satchel, then took it to her room where it would be safe.

She returned to the hall. Sitting at the table, Kerstin watched Thor, one of Jonas’s men, saunter to the other side of the hall where Beata, his wife, ladled cream from a bucket of milk. With his hand placed on her round bottom, Thor leaned near and whispered in Beata’s ear.

Beata snuggled close to the big man and dropped the ladle. It clattered into the bucket as she whirled about to embrace him and squealed with delight.

Kerstin envied them as she watched their kiss of

love. They spoke quietly, their gazes locked, their noses touching. Again, they kissed, their fingers twined together.