The Warlord's Wife (25 page)

The violent temper of the Gulf of Bothnia rivaled Magnus’s own. The frothing green sea bit violently at their ships’ hulls. There was a certain satisfaction that came with knowing the old gods were equally enraged. Night and day, Magnus pushed his fleet to row and sail with a collective bloodthirsty determination. He had moored half of his fleet in the safe harbor of Upland in order to conserve manpower. With clear skies, they navigated by the stars and sailed through the night. By Otso’s calculations, this would be the eighth night his wife and daughter had been held, unprotected, in Lyyski’s hands.

His fingernails dug deeper into the handle of the tiller.

“May I speak with you, Jarl Magnus?” The Danish ambassador approached the helm.

Magnus had no interest in another man’s ideas of how he treated his men or sailed his ship. He still wasn’t clear as to why Count Charles had insisted on coming, nor why his four ships followed close behind.

“I have no time for your words, Dane. We land in Lylasku before midday.”

“We’ve made excellent time.” The Count nodded and glared out over the surging sea. He displayed no signs of concern for the crashing waves or the relentless pelting of sea spray on his face.

“If you should require more men or ships, I will send for my additional ships in Turku, or for a fleet of pirates in the south that owe me a few favors. Will it come to that, you think? I do not have much knowledge of this Lyyski chief. Is he very powerful?”

“At one time, Lyssku had some strength, but that was lost many years ago,” Magnus said. “They are primarily fishermen. They have no defenses. It will take but a foot on their shore and they will be crushed beneath us.”

“That confident? Beware that you do not miss a step. Pride usually comes before a fall,” the count said.

Magnus squinted his eyes. Where had he heard that before . . . Katia? “How have you been misled into believing my wife is your niece? As I explained to you months ago, she is the daughter of a lowborn farmer in Turku. He does not even hold land along the shoreline.”

“He does now.”

“Speak what you have to say. I have no time for your games.”

“I gifted my brother-in-law the land connecting his farm to the port. He is a proud man and would not accept gold. Twas the least I could do for all he had done for my family. Ingerid, Lida’s mother, she is my sister. She is the twin to my sister Caecilia, who by chance is married to your second cousin Errik in Denmark.”

“Why are you discovering this now?” Magnus asked.

“I have just discovered that my sister Ingerid is alive. You cannot possibly understand how full my heart feels and how frustrated I am that my happiness could be taken away again so quickly.” The count lost his footing with the surging sea.

Magnus reached out and grabbed him, forcing the old man to sit on the bench. “What was that you were saying about pride and falling, count?”

“Fair point, Magnus.” He drew a deep breath and continued, “Our father was King Canute. After he and my brothers were slain in a coup, our mother separated all her surviving children in order to keep us safe and ensure that at least some of us would survive the slaughter. Our enemies were those of our own household: my half cousins and my father’s steward.

“So our mother scattered us to the wind, hiding us from everyone, even one another. She did not care if we received titles or claimed our inheritance. She simply wanted us to live.” The count cleared the emotion from his throat. “It was your stepdaughter and what she said about love being destined. My sisters always said that. I left your table abruptly and headed straight for Turku. Ingerid was said to have died along with my mother’s trusted guard, Helki, but in fact she has been alive this whole time, living in Finland, having children and happily growing turnips.” The count’s eyebrows were pinched together, bewildered at his own tale.

“She knows too many tongues for a farmer’s wife. Lida and Katia are too clever.” Magnus groaned. He was not entirely surprised. His mother-in-law was soft-spoken and well educated, and had all the makings of any highborn daughter raised to be a queen—not farmhand.

“I begged Ingerid to come home with me, to reunite with Caecilia, but she refused, saying she was content and wanted to stay. Caecilia is with her presently. Hence the reason I have so many ships available in Turku if you have need of them.”

“Lida said her mother was Swedish,” Magnus murmured. If his cousin heard of this, there would be no end to the political campaigning Magnus would be subjected to.

Curse blood ties.

“No doubt that was the false identity Helki gave his children. But none of it is true. Your wife is pure Danish blood. Helki hails from an honorable line of kings’ guardsmen. He saved my mother’s life, from Konrad ‘The Pretender.’ My cousin’s plan included defiling and impregnating my sister to secure his claim to my father’s throne. Helki stole into Konrad’s camp and recovered her. All she will tell me is that she was in a sorry state and remained so for sometime after. My mother sent them to hide in Finland until after her child by my cousin was born. Only, after pretending to live as husband and wife with her guard, my sister decided she wouldn’t give Helki up.”

“My sons are Swedish, Finnish, and half Dane? Thor’s blood!” Magnus shook his head.

“Actually, Lida’s father was a Danish commander, so considering your mother’s Danish blood, that makes your children mostly Danish and a mere quarter Swede,” the count corrected.

Before he snapped the wood handle of the tiller in two, Magnus resigned the helm to Aleksi and withdrew below deck. He lay down, closed his eyes, and commanded himself to rest.

Behind his eyelids, his beautiful wife smiled at him, opening her nightgown to feed his sons, their small plump hands batting at her face for attention. She cooed and bathed the boys in soft kisses.

A wave cracked against the ship. His head slammed against the plank hull, robbing him of his dream. Had any of it been real?

An annum ago, all he knew of life was protecting, serving, and expanding Tronscar.

Now, if he lost one member of his family, if even one was harmed or injured, he would be decimated. He now fully grasped how a kingdom could rise and fall over the loss of love. Without his family, Tronscar could crumble for all he cared.

***

“Where is the fancy whore and her brat?” Janetta demanded of her serving maid.

“Janetta!” Helika called out from across the empty hall. “I will have a word with you.”

When Janetta arrived at the table, Klara grabbed her daughter’s arm and said into her ear, “Mind your temper. Casper’s ships have not fully assembled and prepared.”

“Ugh, useless sod. I wish Axel were coming,” Janetta said. She then spun around to face Helika, the newly widowed mistress of Lylasku. “Forgive me for not coming to sit with you sooner, mistress. I was busy overseeing preparations for the memorial feast. I wish all to be perfect for his excellency.” Janetta was getting sloppy with her impatience. Anyone could read through her forgery.

The old woman rolled her eyes. “That won’t be necessary. I have spoken to the cooks and taken care of what needs to be done. Now, where is my son?”

“He is resting, mistress,” Janetta said. Her daughter was wisely following Klara’s instructions and keeping the new chief heavily intoxicated and in a continual state of arousal until after the wedding ceremony.

“Get him up. I have matters of vital importance to speak of with him,” the old woman sputtered.

Klara pushed her daughter aside and stepped forward. “Helika, I would be happy to assist and relieve you of your burdens while you take the time to properly mourn your husband. I am well versed in the complexities of managing a powerful house. Tronscar is much larger, with a hundred servants to oversee—”

“Get. Me. My. Son!” the old crow squawked, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head.

Janetta lowered her eyes, nodding submissively. “Forgive me if I have offended you, mistress. I will return with your son in a moment.”

Klara saw her daughter’s gaze catch on the elk horn tankard that had been left out on the table and immediately read her violent thoughts.

She shook her head and reached out to still Janetta’s hand, but she was too late.

Horn in hand, Janetta spun around and struck the old woman down with a single blow to the back of her head. Helika’s head slammed against the edge of the table as she fell, splitting her forehead open.

Klara stood over the widow as blood soaked into the rushes on the floor.

“Two pieces of deadwood cleansed from this house in a single week,” her daughter said, panting heavily, smiling with pride.

Klara slapped her face. “Focus, girl. Clean up this mess before Valto’s men turn on us.”

Her daughter shrugged. “I’ll just blame it on the fancy whore. It will make them want to fight against the Norrlanders all the more.”

“Stupid cow! How many times do I need to explain? We can’t take on the Norrland fleet, nor do we want to deplete our forces. We want them to go after the Slav hounds. Open warfare with Tronscar would last minutes. We need Magnus in battle with someone else in order to give Dag the opportunity to take him out.”

Her daughter slouched her shoulders. “I doubt the jarl will even come after the shrew and her stupid brat.”

“Just clean up your mess.”

***

Lida scanned the great hall, shuffling through the shadows, headed for the side exit and, with luck, their escape. The hall was quieter than normal—not one servant was making preparations for the guests that were arriving for the chief’s funeral.

As she edged around the fireplace chimney, Lida’s heart plummeted. Janetta was sitting, silent, tall, and motionless, in Helika’s chair, her gray eyes locked on Lida.

“Pleasant day for a stroll, Lida?” Janetta stood. Lida’s eyes shifted around the empty hall and came to a stop at the long, bloody trail leading from the center of the floor to a far corner.

Lida’s legs were burning with the instinct to run. She has to get her child out of this house of death. They would run into the woods, hide in the trees, swim back to Sweden if they must.

“My thanks for coming so promptly. You were always a most thoughtful mistress, Lida.” Janetta’s smile broadened, and she turned her attention to Katia. “Come, your uncle awaits.” Janetta took a step closer, and Lida bared her teeth at the same time as Lika.

“Janetta, take one more step, and I shall kill you.” Lida tightened her grip around her concealed dagger. She no longer questioned what needed to be done for survival.

“Njord, Rune!” Janetta flicked her wrist. Two large guards advanced rapidly out of the shadows. Lida pressed Katia into her back.

“Take this whore away and have your way. She murdered Mistress Helika. Lock her in one of the outbuildings.” In a blink of an eye, Janetta snatched a fistful of Katia’s hair. Lika barked, snapping at Janetta’s leg.

“No! No!” Lida screamed, struggling against the guards who had seized hold of her arms, jerking and kicking with every once of strength she had.

Katia stepped backwards, holding Lika’s furry neck. Her daughter whispered to the dog, pulled a stick out from under her skirt, and threw it toward the exit. The dog ran to retrieve it, leaving her daughter unprotected.

“No, Katia! Call her to you! Lika!”

As Janetta stalked toward her vulnerable daughter, a guard’s hand crashed over Lida’s mouth, silencing her screams while dragging her from the hall.

The guards hauled Lida down the lawns to a fishermen’s storage hut at the water’s edge. Her white cloak dragged in the mud. They tossed her in and chained the door.

Lida screamed, “The fires of Norrland will consume you before hell has its turn! The jarl of Norrland is coming. He will carve you up and serve your bones to his dogs. And if my daughter is harmed, I will kill you all myself.”

The men whispered, arguing over what she had said. “Ask me my name, you moronic fools. Ask me who I am! Valto has stolen the daughter and wife of the powerful Swedish warlord Jarl Magnus Knutson. He will come for me and I will direct him as to whom to slay and whom to spare. Who do you fear more, a false chief or the jarl of the Iron Kingdom?” Lida felt a flicker of hope as the men continued to argue. They appeared to have begun to fear that her rantings were true.

“Our mistress is from Norrland,” the younger guard said. “She says you were nothing more than his whore. That he’s finished with you, so he sent you away.”

“Do I look like a woman the jarl would be finished with? I bear his mark on both my wrists. My daughter holds the jarl’s sacred ring. Open the door and see for yourself.”

The chains rattled, and before the door opened, Lida was ready with her dagger in hand. She crouched low and sliced her blade across the ankle of the first guard.

The young man screamed in pain, and the second shouted and foolishly stepped over the first. Lida dove out the door and slammed it shut, barring it securely behind with the guards safely inside. She pressed her back up against the side of the hut and forced herself to breathe. Her heart was pounding, blinding her with fear, rage, and . . . were those sails?

Was this a dream? Nay. The horizon was swelling more with ships’ sails as each minute passed.

“He is here,” she gasped. Her heart leapt for joy, only to plummet back down to earth a moment later. Magnus would storm the chief’s fortress only minutes too late to save her daughter.

Lida gripped her bloodied dagger tighter and unclipped her fur cloak, leaving it at the water’s edge. Glancing once more over her shoulder at the white sails, she lifted her heavy velvet skirts and ran as fast as her legs would take her across the expansive lawn, rushing back into the fortress.

Lika appeared like a spirit of the fortress and charged ahead of her, clearly following Katia’s scent.

“Find our girl, Lika,” Lida whispered. “Find Katia.”

Her steps echoed loudly as they dashed through the empty hall and up the creaking wooden staircase to the second floor. They came to a halt outside the master chamber. Lida held her ear to the door. Muffled voices came from inside, and a scented, mystic smoke seeped out.

Lida thought hard and focused in on the one thing Valto had always wanted from her. “I will submit, Valto!” Lida shouted. “I have always desired you. Think of how we used to talk while Urho was busy entertaining the hall. You must remember how I always desired you over your brother.” A loud commotion came from within, feet stomping directly to the door.

“She is lying, Valto. Do not be stupid. She will say anything to get what she wants,” Janetta snarled.

The door flung open. Lida scanned the room quickly and saw Katia sitting on a chair across the chamber, looking dazed by the hazy smoke.

“Lida!” Sweat collected on Valto’s face, his forehead damp and pale gray. “I knew it when you looked at me at the Saarinen wedding feast. I knew I was not wrong.” He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her in.

His eyes were glassy and hollow, and he was clearly intoxicated. There would be no reasoning with him, as he was well past the point of good judgment.

“Go, my little pet.” Valto shooed Katia out without looking away from Lida. “Your mother wants some time alone with me. Selfish one, your mother.” He licked his lips.

“Katia,” Lida said sharply, while keeping her eyes fixed on Valto. “Take Lika and go play on the green lawn. Do as you are told. Now!” Katia ran out the door. Lida took in a deep breath and felt her senses dulling, her breathing slowing. The heavy smoke was affecting her quickly.

Janetta moved to follow Katia out of the chamber.

“Why must you leave us, Mistress Janetta?” Lida said calmly, while doing her best not to vomit.

“She has a blade at your gut, Valto,” Janetta said. “I am summoning the guards. Do not be stupid. She cannot be trusted.”

“Why can you not trust me, Valto?” Lida said, caressing Valto’s shoulder while repositioning the blade so she could stab through his ribs if she needed to. “You have known me far longer than you have known her. You have wanted me for far longer than you have wanted her.”

“Aye, I have.” Valto looked down at her chest and pressed himself against her, seemingly oblivious to the steel pressing into him. “I have wanted you since the first day I laid eyes on you. The way you moaned for my brother, you will moan for me.”

Janetta was creeping around the edge of the room, and Lida turned to keep her in sight.

Valto’s eyes drooped. “Mother said I could not keep you, even after I went through all that trouble for you. At first she said I could have you, but then you ruined it by getting that brat in your belly.”

Lida knew her time was short—Valto was not a threat, but Janetta appeared about to strike. Her greatest concern, however, was that she did not know where Klara was.

Keep him talking,
her inner voice told her.
Wait for Magnus. Stay alive.

Valto swayed to the side, his ability to stand waning. “My father is dead—”

“Aye, your father, and now your mother,” Lida said. “My sympathies. Did Janetta not tell you? She killed your mother in the hall—”

Janetta charged, her hands grasping for Lida’s throat. “Lying, filthy whore!”

Lida crashed into the wall and they tumbled to floor.

“You killed her,” Janetta shrieked, pulling at Lida’s hair. “I saw her, Valto!”

Lida raised the dagger, but Janetta had the momentum, and she rolled them to the side. The dagger clanged as it skidded across the floor, and Janetta began kicking into Lida’s ribs, over and over. The blows came from all directions, both fists and feet.

All at once, she felt the floor vibrate thuderously, and the raining blows to her body stopped.

Lida’s body was saturated with pain. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and told herself that the sound of her pounding heart drowned out the screams, curses, and shrieks that filled the chamber. She coiled into a protective ball and chanted to herself:
Katia is safe. Magnus has come.

Lida uncovered her face to see Magnus’s broadsword slashing through the air, connecting with Valto’s neck. His head was severed with the backswing of the mighty Norrland steel.

“Die, you selfish whore!” Janetta roared.

Lida lunged for her dagger, gripping it with both hands. She whipped back around, and Janetta ran straight into her blade. The woman’s eyes grew wide, her arms dropping as she looked down her chest. Time seemed to stand still. Janetta stared at the dagger and then looked into Lida’s eyes. The hatred faded from her eyes as confusion set in. She pulled in a wheezing breath. Lida watched in disbelief as the life drained out of her.

Lida shut her eyes and prayed to God for understanding, forgiveness, and strength. The troubled woman had been so young, so misguided . . . and now Lida had ended her life.

A large, calloused hand cupped her cheek. “Lida?”

“Oh! Magnus.” Lida launched herself into her husband’s arms, burying her face into his neck.

She trembled violently, weeping and struggling to breathe, her face pressing against his skin.

Magnus swept his arm under her legs, picking her up and clutching her tight to his chest. The smell from the burning herbs was polluting his lungs and poisoning his wife. He stepped over the dead and dying.

What had his wife suffered in his absence? He had sworn to protect her, and he had failed. Raw emotion overcame his ability to issue a command. Instead, he simply held her tighter and walked out of the foul chamber.

As they emerged from the darkness of the Lyyski fortress to where Aleksi stood with the rest of the sailors and the horses, Lida held her hand up to shade her eyes.

“Where are my sons?” Magnus asked.

“They are safe with Hök,” Lida replied.

“And Katia?” Magnus demanded.

“You did not see her and Lika on the hillside?” Renewed panic sparked Lida’s strength, and she attempted to push out of his arms. “Let me go, Magnus! Klara—Klara is here. We must find her.”

A horse ran across the east field, a white-cloaked rider on its back.

Magnus hastily set Lida down. “Aleksi! My horse!” He ran and leapt onto the back of his horse, which had not yet been saddled. There was not time. Bareback, he charged his beast forward.

Lika barked, running close behind him, both of them rapidly gaining on the fleeing mare. Klara was not an experienced rider, and she held Katia in front of her, her arms and cloak flapping as she tried to spur the mare to go even faster.

Magnus was gaining ground as they crested the hillside. As he pulled even with Klara, her mare snorted and flared her nostrils, instantly skittish next to the larger, more aggressive warhorse. Magnus yanked the reins out of Klara’s hand, pulling them tight and halting both mounts.

“Pleasant day for a ride along the seaside, my jarl,” Klara said, panting. Her sarcastic manner had always struck him as humorous, but now he saw it for what it had always been: her way of cutting people down and taunting those who had authority over her.

Magnus would deal with her after his daughter was safely in his arms. He reached for Katia, but stilled his hand upon seeing the polished silver held to the child’s throat. In the housekeeper’s hand was a dagger that had been gifted to his father by a Persian king, a blade Klara had told him his last steward had stolen.

Katia eyes were ripe with fear, but her mouth was clenched in a hard line as she breathed slowly, controlling her reactions like a seasoned combatant.

“What do you want, Klara?”

“You just
had
to go and spoil my plan.”

Keeping his voice and temper in rein, Magnus said, “I granted you mercy, and this treachery is how you repay me?”

“Mercy?” She cackled, tossing her head back. “Exiled to a dirt farm to dwell in endless joy. After forty years of service, I’m supposed to go merrily on my way, like a happy grandmother sent off silently into the sunset?”

“Klara, put the blade down and I will pay you whatever amount of gold you desire.”

“Gold! You think I care about your stockpiles of worthless metal? You think anyone will remember you for your gold or precious steel?”

Far down the embankment, Magnus saw a small fleet of longships anchored in the protective cove. They were Slavic and Rus pirates, known as blades for hire.

“Any housekeeper can steal a little gold. I have more of your gold stowed away than you do. Power, on the other hand”—she turned one corner of her mouth up in a smile—“only a genuinely smart woman can climb her way from common serving maid to mistress of the keep, and finally to mistress of Norrland.”

He trailed his eyes down to the ships that she gazed upon with confident pride.

“Let the child go and I will grant you and your children mercy. Get on your ships and go.”

“Pft, mercy. Who cares for your mercy?”

“Why, Klara? I have always treated you fairly. I granted your daughter lenience, and this is how you repay me?”

“Your bitch wife ruined you and made you soft,” she said. “Vulnerability is a liability, Magnus. Your father would be ashamed of you.”

“Take your gold and your arrogance and go,” Magnus said. “Start a new life with your traitorous children. By my word, I will not stop you, nor come after you, but threaten my family further and I will run every one of them into the ground.”

Klara tossed her head back and laughed. “Start a new life? I am too old to start again. I want the life I have worked for, sacrificed and bled for.”

“Wouldn’t you rather live another day?”

“Can you give me my youth back?” she said. “I slaved for your father, gave him everything, built Tronscar and its men into what they are today. I’ll have justice. Tronscar will crumble.”

Grinding his teeth and struggling to stay under control, he said, “Let. My. Daughter. Go.”

At that moment, Magnus saw Casper and a hundred men on foot charge over the hill, swords drawn.

“You have done this to yourself, Magnus,” Klara said. “Had you stayed loyal to your Norrland bloodline, none of this would have had to happen.” She glanced over at the men coming to her aid. “War is a beautiful thing, it is not? A time of renewal. It keeps the value of our steel high in the minds of ambitious men.”

Magnus could have swung his blade and cut her down in an instant, but he could not risk Katia being so close. The battle cries of the charging troops grew louder. His daughter was seconds from being at the center of a battlefield.

“Dag, get your ship out of the cove before you are blocked in!” Klara shouted. She turned back to Magnus and shrugged. “Never been one for strategy, that one.”

“My fleet has you outnumbered,” Magnus said. “Think, Klara. You have time to make your escape. Go now and my ships will not follow.”

“You have always underestimated me, just like your father,” she answered. “Nay, Magnus, after my son strikes you down, he will charge over that hill and tell your men that the Slavic swine are to blame and that Tronscar’s precious princess has been taken. It will be all-out war in the gulf for weeks, and my sons will emerge the victors. Thank you for placing them so high up your chain of command. After they take out their senior command, there will be no choice but for them to assume leadership. Tronscar will be a bloody mess to clean up—but I’m used to cleaning, aren’t I?”

Holding the blade at Katia’s throat with her right hand, she waved overhead with her left. “Dag, you stupid whelp. Get the ships moving out of the—”

Quick as a whip, Katia winked, smiled at him, and bit Klara’s wrist. The witch dropped the blade to the ground, her fingers stretched out, flexing in pain. She howled, raising her arm up to strike Katia.