“I will fetch you something.” He left her lying there on her stomach, her face washed of color, even her vivid red hair seeming faded and dimmed, hanging damp and tangled beside her face.
He walked to the cooking counter of smooth wooden planks that held wooden plates, knives, spoons, and trays. He was aware of the painful silence in the longhouse. His men were staring at him, as were the women. Only the children seemed unaffected, and he heard them taunting each other, laughing, challenging. He heard Egill yelling for a wager with another boy.
Ingunn was behind him, saying quickly, her voice low and furious, “Do not believe her, Magnus. She lies, I know it. She disobeyed me, refused to work. What was I to do? She thinks that since she is your whore, she need do nothing save watch the rest of us work. Believe not her tales, Magnus! You already know her for a liar, a murderess.”
He turned slowly, a bowl in his hand. “Please put some venison stew in the bowl, Ingunn.”
Ingunn drew back. “For her? For that slut? I would rather stick a knife in her black heart.”
“Do as I tell you.”
“No, damn you, I won’t!”
“Then you will no longer be welcome in my house. I am master here, and I will be obeyed in all things.”
He hated using that kind of threat, but he saw no other way. Ingunn took the bowl from him and turned stiffly away. He watched her, thinking that he had never before witnessed such unfairness in her, such viciousness, then quickly rearranged his memory. Oh, yes, he had seen her drawn into jealousy before, and her fury had been uncontrolled. It had been over an arm bracelet another young girl had refused to give her. She was jealous of Zarabeth, and, fool that he was, he had taken all Zarabeth’s weapons. He had made her a slave. He had placed her at Ingunn’s mercy.
His sister returned with the bowl and handed it to him, saying nothing now.
He said very quietly, his eyes never leaving her face, “If you touch her again, I will take the whip to you and let you taste it on your back. If you ever put your hands on Lotti again, I will take the whip to you with even greater force. Do you understand me?”
“By Thor’s hammer, she lied! I did nothing to her that she did not deserve. Just ask Cyra! She saw everything the slut did, ask her!”
“Do you understand me?”
“Why do you care? Did you not bed her? How many men had her before you? She bragged on how many men she’d had in York and how all she had to do to you was smile. Why do you still care?”
“Do you understand me?”
She realized in that moment that she no longer knew this man who stood in front of her, this man who didn’t care about the truth or about her feelings, this man who was obviously against her now, who hated and scorned her, all because of that slave he’d brought to Malek to take her place. Nay, she no longer recognized this man who had been her defender when she’d been a little girl. He was now a stranger to her. She felt fury and defeat, and it took all her resolve to hold to her control. She said, “Aye, I understand.”
“Good. Never forget, Ingunn, for I shan’t.” He left her then, aware that every man and woman in the hall was watching them and wondering. He had no intention of saying anything at all. He was appalled at his sister’s loss of control, at the ferocity in her.
He fed Zarabeth until she was too weak to chew more. When she finally fell asleep, he picked Lotti up and took her into the children’s chamber. He laid her down, smoothing the soft ginger-colored hair from her forehead.
“Sleep well,” he said, and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I will take care of your sister, I promise you.”
Lotti smiled and closed her eyes. Magnus looked up to see his son sitting up on the far side of the bed. The boy looked infinitely miserable. Magnus walked to him and drew him onto his lap, even though he wasn’t a child any longer. He spoke softly, so as not to awaken the other children. “Do not blame Lotti, Egill. She is only a little girl and she loves her sister. Would you not have tried to protect me had someone threatened me? From what I see, she is also fond of you. Do not hurt her, and do not treat her like your aunt Ingunn does.”
The boy nodded. Magnus had no idea if his words would go to his son’s heart. He hoped so.
When he returned to Zarabeth, she was asleep. He laid a soft white cloth over her back, gently eased her clothing off her, and got into bed next to her. He did not sleep for a very long time.
He fed her the next morning, bathed her back, and told her not to move. Zarabeth said nothing. She was stiff and her back ached, the muscles pulling and twisting, the flesh hot and blistering.
Magnus turned in the doorway, studying her pale face. “Do not worry about Lotti. Eldrid is looking after her.”
“Thank you,” she said, her voice dull.
She slept fitfully the rest of the morning. She could hear the activity clea
rly from the outer hall. She could hear Ingunn’s voice, and she felt herself tensing with fury. She slept again, then awoke to a voice saying, “I see you are awake.”
She felt fear despite herself. “Aye, I am awake, at least now I am.”
“Do you intend to remain lying about for the rest of the day?”
Very slowly Zarabeth raised herself on her elbow. “You hurt me, Ingunn. My back pains me.”