The Pagan's Prize (34 page)

"I told you some nights ago that I left Norway
because I wanted to seek my fortune, but that wasn't the truth. If I had
stayed, my father's blood would have stained my sword. He abandoned my mother
for his Welsh concubine Gwyneth, who cruelly harried my mother into her grave
while my father did nothing to stop it . . . an aging fool of a chieftain made
blind by fiery hair and a young, voluptuous body." Rurik snorted in
disgust. "The bastard married Gwyneth the day after my mother died. I hope
she has made his life as much a Hel."

He fixed his angry, pain-filled gaze back upon Zora,
his shoulders stiff with tension. "Are you satisfied now, wife? Have you
heard enough?"

Seeing what it had cost him to reveal so much to her,
Zora said softly, "Enough that I understand why you first treated me as
you did, and said the things you did. Enough that I would understand if you
still blame me for Kjell's death, and rightly. So many times I've wished I
could take back the events of that day, that I hadn't run away into those woods
. . . that I hadn't misled him as I did. If I can't forgive myself, I don't
know how I could ever expect you to."

Rurik didn't reply, yet she could see the strain easing
from his face and body as if her words had moved him. When he finally spoke,
his tone was hauntingly quiet. "I don't blame you, Princess. Not anymore."

Swept by wild elation, Zora's heart began to beat
faster at the way Rurik was looking at her. His gaze no longer held pain but a
candidness that made her hope flare bright.

"You don't?"

He shook his head, reaching out to touch a damp curl
that clung to her arm. "It was my fault for having brought Kjell along on
that mission. If he had been a fighter instead of a poet, he would have known
not to rush headlong into those woods without his sword at the ready. Such a
simple thing could have saved him. And as for you trying to escape, you only
acted as you felt you must. If I ever had a daughter in a like situation, I
would want her to fight just as hard as you did."

Scarcely able to believe what he had just told her,
Zora shivered as his knuckles grazed her breast. "Then if you've forgiven
me," she murmured, finding it very hard to concentrate, "perhaps you
don't look upon me as harshly as you once did. After everything you've suffered
in the past, I would understand if it might take you a while to admit . . ."
Her courage faltering, she glanced nervously at the ground.

"Admit what, Zora?"

His tone was gentle, yet probing. He was scarcely
breathing as if hanging upon her every word.

"I . . . I thought that was why you had brought me
out here today," she began haltingly, her cheeks flushing with warmth as
she met his eyes. "Not just to swim, but because you might want to tell
me—"

Zora got no further, for suddenly Rurik gestured for
her to be silent while he inclined his head slightly, listening for something.
She heard nothing, but he must have for he lunged to his feet and found his
belt. His sword seemed to ring as he yanked it from the scabbard.

"What—"

"The blanket, Zora. Wrap it around yourself. Now!"

She obeyed him, watching anxiously as he tugged on his
trousers. It was then that she heard it, the unmistakable sound of galloping
horses drawing closer and closer. She had no sooner stood, clutching the
blanket around her, when three riders burst through the trees. Yet she relaxed
when she recognized Arne and two more of Rurik's men, as did Rurik who lowered
his sword as the warriors reined in their lathered mounts only a few feet away
from him.

"My lord, a message has just come from the grand
prince," announced Arne, his bearded face beet-red and sweating. "He
has called an immediate meeting at the
kreml
.
The reinforcements have arrived."

"At last," Rurik said under his breath, then
catching one of the warriors who had accompanied Arne casting a covert glance
at Zora, he shouted, "Wait for us beyond those trees!"

Thinking as the three men rode away that he would have
to speak to the younger warrior, Rurik turned to find Zora already gathering up
her clothes.

"I'm sorry, Princess," he said. But she
seemed not to have heard him, moving woodenly and avoiding his eyes as she
dressed. Only when he had settled her in the saddle did he try again, holding
her close against him after he mounted behind her.

"We will talk later. I promise." Growing
concerned when still she did not answer, he prodded, "Zora?"

"Yes, later," she replied in a strange
monotone, her body rigid in his arms.

Sighing, Rurik would have liked to say more, but there
was no time.

Spurring their mount into a gallop, his thoughts turned
to the urgency of Grand Prince Yaroslav's message and the council of war that
would probably go well into the night. Yet however late it ended, he planned to
awaken Zora as soon as he arrived home. He would hear what she had been going
to say . . . words he hoped would confirm the intuition that even now was
driving all other matters from his mind.

Chapter 25

"My lady, does this cloth not please you? It is of
the finest quality, pure Byzantine silk . . . My lady?"

"What?" Startled, Zora focused upon the
shimmering bolt of yellow fabric that Yakov was pointing out to her. "I
said does this silk not please you?"

"Oh, yes, it's lovely," she murmured,
although in truth she might have been looking at coarse wool for all the
enjoyment it brought her. As the steward began to haggle with the merchant over
the price, obviously having assumed that she must want some for a new tunic,
Zora found her gaze straying once again to the imposing
kreml
that lay directly across the Volkhov River from the
marketplace.

Rurik was still there, the council of war having lasted
through the night and now continuing into the morning. That could only mean war
was at hand. How could she find pleasure in silk and brocade while the man she
loved would soon be leaving, perhaps never to return

No, she mustn't think like that! At least she was here
in Novgorod and close to him rather than pacing their bedchamber as she had
done all night, unable to sleep for those same terrible questions roiling in
her mind.

If the meeting ended soon, Rurik might even come to the
market to find her. Then perhaps they could talk as Rurik had promised and this
time she would not allow anything to stop her.

Deep in the night, she had realized that if she was to
free him of his past, she would have to tell him of her love. If she harbored
fears, she could imagine what his must be. No wonder he was testing her! It was
so plain to her now why he needed to know that he could trust her. True, her
life had been touched by treachery, but not anywhere as tragically as his.

"My lady, if you will come this way, I'd like to
show you something in another section of the market," said Yakov, his
nasally voice once more breaking into her thoughts. "Something that I
think will please you."

Puzzled by the steward's enigmatic smile, Zora waited
while Yakov handed the wrapped bolt of silk to one of the four warriors who
were following them at a discreet distance. Then the spare little man eagerly
led her through the bustling market, pointing out various of the brightly
colored stalls—a locksmith whom he trusted or a merchant known for the quality
of his rubies—until they came to an area that she recognized at once from the
cacophony of smells as the perfumer's section.

"Lord Rurik asked me to buy whatever you need to
make your perfumes, my lady," Yakov announced, waving his thin, white hand
at the many stalls. "Copper braziers to distill the precious oils, flowers
fresh plucked from the fields, spices, sweet gums and resins, ambergris and
musk to fix the scents, and over here" —he beckoned to her as he moved to
a nearby stall, the same secretive smile upon his narrow face— "rare oils
from the fabled city of Constantinople."

Flushed with pleasure at Rurik's generosity, Zora
watched the swarthy Greek merchant who stood behind the counter set a delicate
blue-green bottle in front of her.

"What is it?" she asked excitedly, her
intuition pricked as Yakov's smile grew wider. She and the steward might have
started out on the wrong footing, but since she had made it clear to him that
she had no intention of usurping his duties, he had gone out of his way to be
kind to her.

"A gift from your husband. Lord Rurik sent men into
the city each morning to ask if any perfumers had come from the south, and two
days ago, word was brought that this merchant possessed the scented oil you
favor. Lord Rurik thought to present it to you himself, but he decided you
might enjoy the surprise of finding it here."

"White jasmine?" Zora didn't have to see
Yakov's nod to know that it was so. She had no sooner pulled out the stopper
than she was greeted with the lush, intoxicating fragrance. She closed her
eyes, savoring its beauty.

"You are pleased, my lady?"

"More than I could ever say." Remembering how
Rurik had looked at her when he had asked what was her favorite scent, it was
all Zora could do to return the stopper for how her fingers had begun to
tremble. She clasped the precious bottle to her breast. "I'd like to carry
it, Yakov. My husband might meet us here and I want to thank him. . ."

"Whatever you wish, my lady. Now if I may, I'll
leave you to choose the things you need while I speak with some of the other
merchants. But I'll be back soon to pay for your purchases, and Lord Rurik's
men will not be far away if you have need of them."

"Yes, thank you, Yakov," she murmured. She
was so absorbed in the fragrant array of Eastern spices at the next few stalls
that long moments passed before she realized when looking around her that she
had been left completely alone, Rurik's warriors nowhere in sight among the
dense throng of shoppers. It dawned on her then that her test had begun, and smiling
confidently to herself, she bent to sniff some pungent cinnamon.

"I cannot say that I'm pleased to see how well
captivity suits you, my love, but at least you were easy to find."

Zora froze, her heart suddenly slamming in her throat.
Dear God, no, it couldn't be . . .

"What's this? No fond greeting for your betrothed?
Perhaps I've cause to be jealous after all of the bastard you were forced to
wed. I sensed as much after witnessing how favorably you respond to his gifts."

Zora slowly straightened, seeing first a tall man
wearing the plain brown garb and hood of a monk before she could find it within
herself to focus upon his face. She could no more swallow than speak as she met
Ivan's cold blue gaze.

"Yes, it's me," he said, keeping his voice
very low, "but we have no time to answer your questions. My men are
waiting for us at the wharf."

"Y-your men?" Zora's voice was a mere squeak.

"I didn't come alone to rescue you, and from the
looks of it," he spat, his tone derisive, "I would almost think that
you may not want to be rescued."

"I . . . I don't."

Ivan's angry countenance grew all the blacker.

"I'm sorry, Ivan, but I want to stay here—"

"So it is as I thought," he cut in bitterly. "Wedded
and well bedded and now a traitor to her own countrymen. Hardly the news to
encourage your father to spare this Lord Rurik of Novgorod if he falls into our
hands."

"What are you saying?" blurted Zora, Ivan's
ominous words passing like an ice-cold hand over her heart.

"Simple, my love. Come with me and you can plead
for your husband's life when the battle falls to our favor. If Lord Rurik is
captured, surely you know he will be held for execution, but perhaps your voice
raised in his defense will sway your father's judgment. Yet if you stay here,
you will have no way to help him, no way to be heard." Glancing around
them, Ivan shifted impatiently. "Choose, Zora, and quickly. The time to be
gone is now!"

Holy Mother of God, what was she going to do? Zora
wondered desperately, her mind racing. She didn't want to leave! Not now! Now
when she and Rurik were so close to admitting their love for each other. Yet
she could not deny that Ivan was making sense. Damn him for making sense!

She had been tormented for days with thoughts of what
might happen to Rurik if her father's forces prevailed, imprisonment, torture,
and, if what Ivan said was true, execution, yet now she was being presented
with a way to intercede for him. Surely her father would listen to her pleas!

And if he didn't win and Grand Prince Yaroslav retained
his throne, Rurik would get her back . . . that is, if he would still want her
after her seeming treachery. She had no doubt that he would think the worst of
her, yet she could explain everything to him when they were together again.
Surely he would understand that she had left him out of love-

"Zora, there is no more time!"

"I don't know . . ." she whispered, never
having felt so horribly unsure.

"Do you love him?"

Meeting Ivan's piercing gaze, his expression
inscrutable, she nodded numbly.

"Then there is only one thing you can do. I will
lead the way and you follow. Our boat is docked by the bridge."

With that, Ivan lowered his head, and folding his hands
as if in prayer, he began to move deftly through the crowds, leaving Zora
staring after him. But she didn't stand there for long.

Glancing around her and seeing no sign of Yakov or any
of Rurik's warriors, she hastened to catch up with Ivan, almost tripping in her
haste not to lose sight of him. To her dismay, the bottle of perfume went
flying from her hands to shatter at her feet but there wasn't anything she
could do.

As tears welled in her eyes, she rushed on, trying not
to dwell upon what Rurik would think of her when he discovered she was gone. It
was too terrible to contemplate.