Mylan wasted no time in explaining to Hagen how he had become involved in a fight to the death with Oluf, and when Andrick joined them he enlisted his aid as well. With a few well-placed suggestions to several close relatives, they managed to draw the Torgvalds away from the center of the room, isolating them in one corner where they kept them amused and drinking steadily until most of the other guests had retired for the night. A few of those living close by had left for home, while others and those having to travel to more distant locations had been given lodgings for the night.
Aldred saw what his sons were doing and approved. As usual, Mylan had taken charge of a difficult situation and appeared to have it well in hand. He was speaking to the Torgvalds of nothing more serious than hunting, but watching their reactions closely in order to be better able to predict them. He was proud of all four of his sons, but Mylan had been his firstborn. That he was again looking so well and fit pleased the older man immensely, but they all had that night to survive before they could make any plans for the future.
When Aldred joined their small group, Mylan looked up in surprise to see the hall nearly empty and knew he could no longer delay in reporting Oluf’s death, and he proceeded to do so. As he saw it, Olgrethe’s brothers had gotten the better of him once, while he had outfought them in their own home in return. Things had stood even between them, but he was about to tip the scales, and the delicate balance they had held that day would be destroyed for all time if he did not take care.
He rose slowly to his feet. “We have never before met together as friends, and I deeply regret what I must tell you now.”
Ansgar did not bother to cover a wide yawn, and he finished the last of his ale before he interrupted rudely. “I want only to find a bed, as Oluf must have done.” With a sly wink he continued, “Knowing him, it is a bed with a wench in it!”
The Torgvalds’ jovial mood had not been dampened by his somber statement, and Mylan looked toward his father for assistance. Aldred shook his head and encouraged him to continue on his own. Clearing his throat, Mylan explained, “That is precisely the problem. Oluf did indeed try to bed a wench, who happened to be most unwilling.”
Frowning now, Ansgar leaned forward: “So what? That is not the first time some girl has refused him. Did he fail to change her mind?”
Flanked by Andrick and Hagen, who stood ready to help, Mylan made his point clear. “No, he did not. When I came to her defense we fought and I won. You will find his body at the docks, ready to be taken home in the morning.”
Jens leapt to his feet, not so surprised he could not insult an old enemy. “That’s a bloody lie! You never saw the day you could beat my brother at anything!”
Sorgen was so drunk he could scarcely follow the conversation, but when he turned to ask Korsor what had happened he found him asleep where he sat and so demanded an explanation from Mylan. “What has happened to Oluf?”
Mylan spoke distinctly to make certain he was understood. “I killed him.” He had no opportunity to say more as Jens lunged for his throat, knocking him into the wall where he grabbed hold of the enraged man to ward off his punishing blows. Now that the fight had begun in earnest, he was filled with the same furious anger he had turned upon Oluf. In his mind he saw only Celiese, and how defenseless so delicate a beauty would have been against brutes such as these. He would have swiftly killed Jens too, had his father and Andrick not pulled them apart. Hagen had drawn his knife so rapidly that Ansgar and Sorgen had had no opportunity to leave their seats before they were surrounded with Vandahls, each brandishing a dagger they clearly intended to use at the slightest provocation.
With the help of his kin to enforce his words, Aldred now took charge. “Enough!” he shouted, and when Jens had been forced back into his place beside his three brothers, he demanded their attention. “You have every right to be angry. Oluf’s death was a senseless tragedy he brought on himself, but it needn’t be the excuse to renew the feud between our families. We have all had too much to drink and are too tired to make any rational decisions tonight. In the mornin
g we will talk again when our tempers have cooled and our alternatives will be more readily apparent.”
“What difference will the morning make when Oluf will still be dead?” Jens snarled fiercely. He leaned over to shove Korsor off his stool, finally arousing him from a sleep so deep he had not heard the shouts of the fight right beside him. “We came here in peace, and we’ll not go home without having satisfaction for our brother’s murder!”
Mylan looked up then to see Celiese standing in the doorway. He wondered how long she had been there and motioned for her to approach them. “Did you tell Olgrethe of her brother’s death?”
“Yes, I stayed with her until she had cried herself to sleep, but she knew her brother’s vices well and does not blame us for his death.” Celiese came close enough to be understood without shouting, but not so near that the Torgvalds could touch her.
Jens’s pale blue eyes narrowed menacingly as he looked back at her. “It was you, wasn’t it? Oluf is dead because of you!”
Celiese made no attempt to reply, for Jens would never accept her explanation of what had occurred between her and his brother. She simply returned his icy stare with the same bitter hatred reflected in her eyes that shone in his. They were despicable villains all of them, and she was sorry no more than one had died that night.
Mylan watched closely as Celiese stood calmly returning the murderous glances the Torgvald brothers turned upon her. The hatred in the air was so thick he felt as though he were suffocating, yet she appeared to be impervious to their evil gazes. He could not bear to have her in the same room with such filth as they represented; “Olgrethe may awaken and need you, Celiese, please go back to her now and leave this to us to settle.”
“No!” Jens shouted hoarsely, “Give her to usâ??my brother’s life is high enough price to have paid for her!”
“She is a free woman, not for sale at any price,” Mylan vowed promptly, somewhat surprised by how easily that truth came to his lips, but he did not like the hostile expression in his father’s eyes and hastened to enforce his words. “My father was right, this matter is too important to be settled tonight. You will be shown to a room, and do not try and leave it before dawn, as the door will be well guarded.” Signaling to his cousins, he ignored the loud curses sent his way as the Torgvalds were escorted from the hall.
Estrid was among the few ladies remaining in the room, and she had drawn close in order to hear what was being said. Clearly Celiese was the cause of all the mischief, and in her opinion the young woman should have been given to the Torgvalds in appeasement for Oluf’s death. She licked her lips slowly, and prayed Aldred would soon come to the same conclusion, for she had seen his reaction to Jens’s demand and thought it a strong possibility she might soon be rid of Celiese for good. Surely Mylan had defended her because he was a gentleman, but he would soon forget her charms when he had an equal for his wife.
She would go to him as soon as his father bid them all a good night. He had fought bravely and deserved the generous reward she planned to give. A wicked smile lifted the corner of her mouth. Yes indeed, she would bed Mylan that very night, and he would call her wife in the morning, or her family would demand that he did.
Without the Torgvalds present to argue Aldred was free to speak his mind. “Leave us, Celiese; this discussion no longer concerns you.”
Since there were still a dozen or so guests looking on, Celiese had no intention of leaving the hall when it seemed obvious Aldred had something important to say. “I prefer to stay,” she announced calmly, her tone not argumentative, but confident and proud.
Drawing himself up to his full height, Aldred dealt with her defiance swiftly. “You have brought disgrace upon the name of Vandahl not once but twice. I am tempted to hand you over to Jens right now, but that seems too cruel a fate even for you to suffer. I will send the Torgvalds on their way at first light, but you must leave here as well. You are no longer welcome in my home, and I want you gone for good by noon.”
“No!” Hagen shouted instantly. “You’ll not send Celiese away, for I want her as my wife!” His knife still drawn, he was determined to fight if there were no other means to get his way.
“What! That woman is no fit bride for you!” Aldred was appalled. He looked for Thulyn, but she had turned and hurried away, leaving the matter entirely in his hands to settle. He saw Erik pushing his way closer and feared his youngest son would speak for the former slave too, but it was Mylan who ended the controversy abruptly.
“If Celiese is any man’s wife she is mine,” he declared emphatically, challenging Hagen as well as his father to dispute him. His defiant glare and proud stance made them both back away, for neither cared to be his second victim that night.
Large tears welled up in Estrid’s eyes as she saw the man she wanted so badly state openly that he wanted another. Furious that he preferred a pretty slave to her, she ran from the room, all her hopes dashed for a secure future as the wife of the enormously wealthy Mylan Vandahl. She felt the same terror she’d known two years before when she’d broken her engagement to him when she’d thought he would not live to see their wedding day. Her delicate features contorted in a vicious mask, she fled from the people she was certain would be laughing at her, but none noticed her sudden departure, nor cared.