The Silken Cord (32 page)

A clenching wind stirred through the
farmstead. Shifting his feet, hand on his sword, Jonas waited to
see what would happen. The next moments would set them on a course
of death or of healing. God grant that it be the latter.

"So, Sigurd, you have come with King Hakon."
Alrik snarled and rubbed a gnarled hand against his coarse beard.
"What devious plans do you hatch now?"

A snide smile curled Sigurd’s lips. "It’s
not what I plan, but what the king orders, Alrik, Lord of Swine.
Your foolish daughter had your men attack the king when we brought
him here to speak with you in peace."

Kerstin gasped at the insults. Her men
tensed and glared at Sigurd’s warriors. Hatred pulsed in the air.
Tension rushed all around.

Alrik's bushy brows rose and he turned his
craggy head. For a brief moment, his disapproving gaze rested on
Kerstin. “King Hakon, my daughter didn’t know you were amongst the
Sigurdsson’s, or she would never have attacked. Our lookouts
reported that you were Eiriksson’s, sneaking into the hills above
us to come down and destroy Moere. You can’t blame my daughter for
following my orders and trying to protect our home.”

“Eiriksson’s,” Sigurd growled. “Are you all
blind as well as dimwitted? Couldn’t you see who we were?”

Hardening his jaw, Alrik lifted his sword as
he took a step. “It was because we saw who you were that we
attacked. Didn’t you come here recently to fight us?” He gestured
toward the injury in his side. “Wasn’t that how I got this fine
wound? You must bear part of the blame for today’s attack. You
could have sent us word that you were bringing the king here.
Instead, you snuck in like you always do when you try to steal my
land and flocks and kill my people. You’re no better than the
thieving Eiriksson’s.”

Sigurd’s face mottled red with fury. “Who
are you to accuse us when you…?”

"Enough," King Hakon barked and the two men
stilled. "I’ve lost many valuable warriors today and I don’t wish
to lose any more. I’ve come to ask for your aid, Lord Alrik, just
as you gave aid to my father in his many battles. You’ve always
been loyal and I ask that you not fail me now. I demand peace."

Alrik’s gray eyes narrowed on his king. "You
wish me to fight with you against your brothers, the
Eiriksson’s?"

Hakon nodded. "I know you have no love for
the Eiriksson’s ever since they murdered your wife. Let us speak
together of war against them, our common enemy. Let us speak of
peace between you and Sigurd."

Jonas saw Alrik's mouth compress with anger
and the old earl cast his gaze about the yard, taking in his men,
the blood smeared across their swords, the look of hostility in
each of their eyes. Alrik could easily grasp the situation for what
it was. Though he stood straight and proud, Alrik’s pale flesh made
him seem weary unto death. He must be in a great deal of pain.

Kerstin faced the king. "Right now, my
father must rest. You can plan your war tomorrow."

"Kerstin, go inside," Alrik ordered
quietly.

"But, Father, you’re not well."

"Kerstin!"

She flinched. Though spoken in a low voice,
his sharp command silenced her. She cast a quick glance at Jonas.
He refused to meet her gaze, unwilling to let her see the sympathy
that stirred deep within him. Against his better judgment, he was
impressed by Kerstin’s courage and discipline. And dare he admit he
admired her compassion in caring for the wounded? But he must never
forget what she was capable of, or that she had killed Bjorn.

With a sigh, Kerstin obeyed her father's
word. She disappeared inside the great hall, leaving Jonas feeling
suddenly alone and empty.

* * *

Inside the manor house, Kerstin set about
ordering the few remaining thrall women to place a meal on the long
tables. Whether she liked it or not, their enemy was here to
stay.

She had attacked King Hakon. How could she
have made such a foolish mistake? Tears burned her eyes when she
thought of the men who died today, many of them her friends. More
would succumb to the wounds they had received.

Anguish tore at her heart. Guilt rested on
her like a load of rocks on a funeral pyre. It didn’t matter that
she had done what her father asked, or that the Sigurdsson’s were
partly responsible.

She dashed the tears away with her hands,
trying to ignore her misery as she removed her chain mail. It did
no good. Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, forcing her to stop
and blow her nose on a cloth she kept tucked inside her pocket.
Enough! She must set a good example for her people. Resolved to
being strong, she went about her work.

It wasn’t a difficult chore to lay out a
meal. Great haunches of meat already hung over the open fire pit in
the center of the room. Dripping with sizzling juices, the meat
awaited ravenous appetites of men returned from battle. They’d also
prepared flatbread, golden cheese, broiled fish, baked apples, and
vegetables.

The day before, they scattered fresh rushes
across the clay floor. The air smelled of sweet spices and cooking
meat.

Letta, the wife of Kerstin’s eldest brother,
ran over to her as Kerstin set a pitcher of honey mead at the head
of the table. "Do you know why the king is here? Will he lend
Sigurd aid to kill us?"

"Nay, King Hakon has always respected my
father," Kerstin reassured her. "Since he needs Alrik's help, he
would never jeopardize that by allowing Sigurd to cause
mayhem."

Jonas Sigurdsson entered the hall,
interrupting them. He stood before the door, still dressed in
battle gear, still tall and somber. His sword and war ax clanked as
he looked about. Damp tendrils of wheat-colored hair curled on his
high forehead. His sharp gaze took in every detail of the room,
then rested heavily upon Kerstin. She swallowed twice.

"Your father has asked for shoes and warm
clothing." His voice filled the hall like a blast of wintry
wind.

At first, Kerstin didn’t move. She stood
paralyzed as his gaze stroked down her body, then lifted again to
her face.

If King Hakon had his way, Jonas Sigurdsson
would be her husband. How could she stand to wed such a cruel
wretch? She could never give up Elezer, whom she loved.

Jonas cleared his throat, and Kerstin
hurried into the backroom. She returned with the requested items
and walked to him. As she held out the clothing, her gaze lifted to
his face. Flickering shadows twined along the walls as flames
danced in the fire pit. In the dim light, it surprised her to see
his worried expression as his brows lowered in a frown.

When he took the clothes, his fingers
brushed against hers. Drawing away, she clasped her hands in front
of her. The heat of an angry blush suffused her cheeks but she
didn’t look away. She must not back down to this man, nor show him
fear. Why did his presence affect her so much?

He spoke for her ears alone. "You’ve made it
clear you don’t want to marry me, but if your father orders it,
will you agree?"

Of course not! Was he an imbecile? "Father
won’t agree. I am betrothed to Elezer."

Jonas offered no denial. "I’m sorry for your
love of Elezer, but many lives depend upon our union. We must wed,
Kerstin. There’s no other way."

It was the first time he had spoken her name
and she shivered at the sound rolling off his tongue, smooth as
honeyed butter.

His mouth softened, his eyes no longer
angry, but such an intense blue they reminded Kerstin of rare
gemstones she had once seen at a bazaar in York. She must stop
looking at him as if he were a man instead of her enemy. If he
tried to take her from Elezer, she would fight him----as long as
she had breath in her body. "Surely you don’t want to be saddled
with a woman who loves another man.”

He frowned, his jaw tense. "The king has
ordered it. I will do my duty, even if I must marry a witch.”

She snorted. "I am no witch. You only want
me so you can hurt me."

He didn’t respond and she became aware of
the nervous chatter of the other women as they scurried to the back
of the hall. They clutched heavy brooms and meat cleavers, peering
at him warily.

"Hurting you has no purpose,” he said. “I
need nothing more than heirs from you. Your love for Elezer is a
thing of the past. Put it aside.”

Put it aside? To do so would bludgeon her
heart.

“You treat me as if my only purpose is for
breeding.”

“You will do your duty.”

The insufferable brute. "I will not have
your children."

He flattened her father's clothes with his
hands. "Don’t fight me, Kerstin. I’m a man who never accepts
defeat. Unlike my brother, I will never let down my guard with you,
so be warned."

Her eyes narrowed and she prayed silently.
Please, God, help my father understand. “And I am a woman who won’t
be forced to marry a man I hate, so be warned.”

Brief pain flickered in his eyes and was
gone. Surely she imagined it. This man detested her. Her hatred for
him wouldn’t cause him any dismay.

“You will do as you are told,” he said.

She tried to speak, but words wouldn’t come.
Her pulse vibrated with fury.

He turned around and strode out of the room
without even a backward glance. Kerstin stood like a statue where
he had left her, stunned and hollow inside.

Her mind whirled. Her father loved her and
wouldn’t give her to Jonas.

Or would he?

Looking at the women where they hid behind
tall looms and chests, she sought to reassure them. "He’s gone now.
You can come out."

Letta wrung her hands and whined in a
pitiful voice. "I’m so afraid. My dead babes aren’t cold in the
grave before their murderers come into my home. Your own brother’s
death must be avenged."

Kerstin flinched at the reminder. "You’re
right, Letta, but Tostig died in battle against the Sigurdsson’s
and the Eiriksson’s murdered your children."

She tried to place a comforting hand on the
woman's arm but Letta jerked away. "I’ll grow old and childless
because of the Sigurdsson’s. I watched my own children trampled to
death."

"I’m so sorry for your loss, Letta. But it
wasn’t the Sigurdsson’s that caused the death of your babes.”
Kerstin’s voice trembled with the memory of Letta’s face and her
heart-wrenching screams when the men carried her children’s bodies
back to her that fateful day last autumn. Letta had not seemed
level in the head since.

"Once Thorir returns from trading, you will
have more children,” Kerstin said.

As if that could ever take the place of the
two precious souls Letta had lost. Oh, how Kerstin wished her big
brother would come home right away. Thorir could calm his wife.
Letta always listened to him, and maybe he could also reason with
Father.

Thorir would surely take Kerstin’s side. He
and her other brothers had always doted on her, protecting her.
Though her elder brothers had a different mother than herself,
Kerstin loved them all; but they weren’t here and she must be
strong.

“Sigurdsson’s, Eiriksson’s," Letta spat with
distaste. "One is just as bad as the other. They both bring death
to us."

Kerstin agreed as she turned her head in the
direction of the door. Resisting the urge to go outside and
eavesdrop on the men proved difficult. They made plans that would
affect the rest of her life. What would King Hakon do when Alrik
refused the wedding match?

The women returned to their chores but they
paused often, their eyes wide as they listened to the angry voices
coming from outside the house.

Minin, who was Knut’s wife, ceased stirring
a fragrant stew as a low boom of thunder reached their ears. It
joined the dull thrum of angry men. Alrik’s voice roared in fury
above the rest.

Kerstin's breath caught in her throat. Would
the battle begin anew? Father was in no condition to fight. He
could be easily killed.

"Surely Alrik won’t give you to Jonas
Sigurdsson.” Letta sidled up to Kerstin as she set her father’s
drinking horn on the table.

It sounded like a sacrificial offer. Indeed,
Kerstin felt that was just what she would be if they forced her to
marry Jonas the Strong Arm.

Drawing herself up, Kerstin jutted her chin
and tried to still her trembling hands. "My father knows I love
Elezer."

"Elezer can do nothing if your father
decides to break the betrothal," Minin remarked. "And perhaps it
would be a good thing. Beware of Elezer’s handsome face and kind
ways, mistress. I’ve heard the men say he tends to be devious and
selfish, interested only in a woman’s soft body, comforts and
wealth. I don’t want to see you hurt."

Kerstin gasped. "You know nothing of
Elezer’s goodness. How dare you carry such tales to my ears?"

Minin shrugged and Kerstin slammed a jug of
wine onto the table, sloshing the contents across wooden bowls. The
soft drumbeat of raindrops struck the roof of the hall outside. The
storm had broken and would quickly end, but for Kerstin, it went on
and on. She longed to take her fears to Elezer and had no doubt of
his devotion. He would help her plead their case to her father.

Sighing deeply, she glanced at her
sister-in-law, who cowered in one corner of the room. "Letta,
please fetch the iron candle holders while I see about more
ale."

Letta seemed not to hear. When the thunder
boomed again, her eyes filled with a strange, wild light. Letta
grabbed a carving knife from the trestle table and headed for the
door. "I will not welcome these murderers into my home, nor allow
your father to wed you to a savage man."

Kerstin went after her, catching the woman
as she reached the door. Kerstin yanked the blade from Letta's
clenched fist. As much as the thought of killing Jonas and the
other Sigurdsson’s appealed to her, what would it accomplish other
than Letta’s death? “Nay, Letta, you mustn’t try such a thing. You
are crazed with grief.”