He was a big man, though not as tall as Tarass, his body thick. His hair was gray and he wore it in a braid. He wore the cloth, furs, and hides of the Norsemen. His face was like a leathery mask wrinkled from the harsh winters of the far north. Looking past it, Tarass could see that he once had fine features, but he didn’t recall ever meeting the older man.
“You wonder who I am,” the man said, his voice strong enough to be heard between the distance that separated the two men.
“Where’s my wife?” Tarass called out.
“In time,” the man shouted.
Tarass feared the delay was for a reason that could have this meeting end far differently than he’d hoped.
“What do you want? Why does a man I don’t know want to harm me and my family?” Tarass asked with a strength that could be easily heard.
“It would be over and done if you had been with your parents at the Sandrik village.” The man shook his head. “It took me a while to realize it was better that you weren’t there. That my revenge would be much more satisfying with you alive. That I could take from you what was taken from me and leave you to suffer as I have done all these years.”
Fear twisted Tarass’s stomach and he roared out, “Where’s my wife?”
“Not yet,” the man returned with his own roar.
Tarass never prayed, but he did now, silently, for his wife’s life. If for some reason his father had taken the life of the man’s wife, it meant sure death for Snow.
“What was taken from you that left you filled with such vengeance?” Tarass asked, a dread falling over him.
“Everything!” the man roared once again.
“Not everything,” Tarass called out. “You’re still alive.”
“Would you feel that way if I took everything from you? Your wife and the bairn growing inside her? Your whole future?”
The dread that had fallen over him felt as if it choked Tarass, it squeezed at him so tightly.
“You would hate, feel jealous, and want revenge as well,” the man called out, anger exploding from his every word.
“My father never would have killed a woman and child,” Tarass argued, fear for his wife’s life growing his muscles taut.
The man laughed, though it wasn’t with joy. “It wasn’t your father who took everything from me. It was your mother.”
Tarass was shocked speechless. He was aware that his mum had been a skilled warrior, but he had never expected his parents’ deaths was because of something his mum had done.
“Anora was the daughter of a powerful Norse chieftain, a skilled warrior in her own right, her tribe far superior to your mum’s tribe. Anora became furious when she discovered that your father had told all in his clan that I was dead. It was my punishment for keeping my plans from him and hurting his friend Fay. I didn’t care. I had no wont to return home, but it was an insult to Anora that I was banished from my homeland soil for what she believed was punishment for marrying her.”
Tarass realized who he was then. “You’re Conall, Twilla’s son, and the father of Fay’s bairn.”
“I am,” he cried out with pride. “I so regret ever poking that whimpering fool, Fay, not that Anora would have cared. However, she wouldn’t have liked that Fay carried my child when she was carrying my child as well.”
“You knew Fay was with child?” Tarass asked, thinking of the devastation secrets could cause.
“Aye, and I wanted no part of her. I was about to wed Anora and become husband to the daughter and only child of a powerful Norse chieftain who respected me. I wasn’t going to throw that away for a weak woman whose family would never accept me.”
“So you never told Anora the truth?”
“No, and she decided to seek revenge for the insult when she found out your mum was visiting with her people, though she kept it a secret from me.”
Tarass had engaged in too many battles and confrontations not to know the man was borrowing time, and his concern grew for his wife’s safety.
“Where’s my wife? I want to see her now!” he roared.
Conall returned his roar. “Soon!”
Tarass wanted this done now. He wanted to see that his wife was unharmed. “From what you say Anora attacked my mum’s village and my mum defended herself.”
“If only that were true, I wouldn’t have lost everything,” the man bellowed, pounding his chest. “Your mum told her the truth. Told her about Fay. Told her that was the reason your father banished me from my homeland. Told Anora I cared for no one or nothing but the power of being wed to a powerful chieftain’s daughter.” The man’s dark eyes turned round with rage. “You know what Anora did? She demanded the truth from me, threatening to go to my homeland and find out for herself. I had no choice but to tell her. She refused to listen to any excuse or apology I offered. She adamantly refused to wed me and refused to give birth to a coward’s child. She rid herself of my bairn growing inside her and her father banned me from his tribe.