When she saw him, she got control of herself.
He walked to her, lifted her from the bench, and folded his arms around her scrawny back.
She wept until she had no more tears.
Magnus released her then and eased her into his own chair. “Rest,” he said. “I’m sorry, but we did all we could to find her.”
He turned then to Ragnar. “Please go to my father and tell him what has happened. Tell him . . .” Magnus paused a moment as if wishing he could leave the words unspoken. “Tell him that he must come for Ingunn, and soon.”
Ragnar left. Ingunn resumed her duties, her face hard, her eyes red from weeping, all feeling frozen within her, all feeling save a festering hatred. Magnus saw the imprint of his hand against her cheek but felt no guilt about it. She ignored him completely.
The day dragged into evening. He couldn’t seem to rouse himself. All his people were scattered into small groups, speaking quietly. The children were strangely silent. Even the animals kept themselves from underfoot.
Magnus went to his chamber and silently moved to his bed. Zarabeth appeared to be asleep. He sighed deeply, removed his clothes, and eased in beside her. It was then he knew she was awake. He decided to say nothing. She was lying quietly. He knew she couldn’t bear for him to come near her again, to force her to recognize that his own grief was bowing him to his knees, for in her mind he should have no grief. Lotti should have been nothing to him. He was, after all, a Viking, a man without conscience, a man who had no compunction about slaughtering, a man who cared naught about any other person but members of his family. She hated him. Lotti would be alive were it not for him.
Were it not for him, Lotti would be with Keith and Toki in York. Were it not for him, King Guthrum would have seen her killed.
She closed her eyes. There was simply too much to cloud her reasoning, too much pain and uncertainty to see through the emptiness and find answers within herself. She wanted to fall asleep and never awaken. Lotti was dead. All her focus seemed stripped away from her. Her reason for existing, for drawing breath, was gone.
No one realized that Egill was missing until very late that night.
It was Horkel who shook Magnus awake, drawing him from a terrifying dream that had no monsters, only a vast emptiness that drained his very soul.
He jerked up, shaking his head.
“Magnus, quickly, Egill is missing!”
Magnus could only stare at him in the dim light. “My son is missing,” he repeated as he frowned over the words. He hadn’t thought of his son, not once. He felt anew a wash of fear, and was held motionless by it.
It was too much.
“Come, you must hurry. No one has seen the boy since we returned with Zarabeth this afternoon. I fear he feels he is to blame for Lotti’s death.”
Magnus threw back the covers, his heart pounding so loudly he thought it would burst from his chest. Over and over he was thinking: Not Egill, not my son too, no, it would be too much. Not even the gods could demand that much.
He left Zarabeth, not knowing whether she had heard or not. It wasn’t important. He had to find his son.
By dawn every man, woman, child, and slave had searched within miles of Malek. There was no sign of Egill.
The boy had vanished.
When Harald and Helgi arrived with Mattias and Jon and a half-dozen men, Magnus was so weary and so deadened he could barely speak. His father drew near, stared at his son, and without a word drew him against his chest.
Magnus had forgotten that he had sent Ragnar to them. He leaned against his father, and it came to him suddenly that he was the larger of the two, that somehow his father had shrunk physically. Strange that it was so and that he would notice it now. Harald was his father and Magnus felt his strength flow into him. He didn’t weep. He was beyond tears now, nearly beyond feeling.
He stood back then and said calmly, “I do not know what to do now, Father. I am glad you are here. Mother, please come inside. Ingunn will—” He broke off and his face hardened, his hands fisted at his sides.
“You have come to remove her, I trust?”
Helgi stepped forward and lightly laid her hand on his bare forearm. “We will take her back with us, but now, Magnus, now let us go inside.”
Mattias simply hugged his brother briefly, releasing him with no words spoken. Jon merely looked at Magnus, his brow furrowed, then shook his head.
Magnus agreed. It was too much, far too much.
His family’s presence was a blessing. It gave him and all his people something new to focus on. He saw Ingunn run into Helgi’s arms and begin sobbing as if her heart would break. He turned away from the scene, saying to his father, “Wish you some ale?”
“Aye, I would like that.”