“What of this demon witch Torin told you about that sends tongues wagging and instills fright in the people?” Sven asked. “And that has your wife visiting her. That will not rest well with our people.”
“The witch is not our worry. Newlin confirmed the message Torin sent me. Lord Varrick is on his way here to claim her. She will be his problem.”
Sven wrinkled his brow. “What does the legendary warrior want with a demon witch?”
“I do not know. She will be his problem not mine. I have ordered Newlin to give the witch to Lord Varrick. With his infamous reputation, the witch should fear him more than any other punishment she would face.”
“I hear he is a ruthless man.”
“He must be since failure is not known to him, his battle skills beyond believable” Bhric said.
Sven lowered his voice. “Perhaps he is in league with evil and he wishes the witch to help him gain more power.”
“Time will tell,” Bhric said. “We will keep watch on the situation.”
“And what of those we are meant to take with us?” Sven asked.
“A couple and two children. It is to protect them from Lord Ivan of the neighboring Clan MacVannan. Several children he had paid coin for fled his home after brutal treatment. Some of Newlin’s people helped them and he fears they are in danger from Lord Ivan if they remain here. Torin took some, and others went with Lord Cree. Lord Ivan had demanded the witch as payment for his loss, but Lord Varrick had already sent word he would claim the witch.”
“This Lord Ivan has not held the title long from what I recall. He arrived here six months after Lord Bennett’s death claiming to be his nephew and sole heir to Clan MacVannan. With supposed documents to prove it, no one disputed his claim. See that Birger keeps a watch on him. Now tell me that all will be done so we can leave tomorrow.”
Sven was hesitant to say, “The day after would be more likely.”
“I thought the same, though did not want to admit it,” Bhric said and looked to the sky. “I hope the weather holds for our departure.”
Sven laughed. “Snow never stopped us.”
“But it could take its toll on my wee wife.”
* * *
Tavia lingered in bed the next morning, hoping the extra rest would help her leg. She was pleased when she finally was up and dressed, and while her leg ached it was nothing she could not bear. It had taken time to become used to the pain that lingered now and again. Mostly, though, she was able to deal with the limp and even found herself getting around much more easily after adapting to her new gait.
She rubbed dried mint in her long, dark hair, then brushed it thoroughly before plaiting it. She then scrubbed her face fresh with a wet cloth until her cheeks blossomed pink. She was determined to do what was needed to see that her clan had sufficient food for winter and that it prospered.
With a soft smile, she entered the Great Hall.
“Your leg still pains you?” Bhric asked upon seeing that she still limped.
“Nothing I cannot abide, my lord,” she said, fearing what he would say when he discovered her limp was permanent. Would he end the arrangement? He could not do that if the marriage was consummated. Did she make sure to couple with him before he discovered the truth and seal the agreement?
Bhric was glad to hear that and also that she was up and about in spite of her injury. Perhaps the woman was stronger than he had first thought. Or was it wishful thinking?
“We will be ready to leave the day after tomorrow for home, no matter the weather,” Bhric said, making it clear there would be no delays.
The question was would he take her with him or terminate the marriage? She had to couple with her husband so there would be no chance of him ending their marriage before it even started, and she had only one night to see it done.
“Hertha wanted a word with you,” Newlin said. “I will have her fetched. She waits in the kitchen.”
“I will go to her,” Tavia said and went to turn, her husband’s sharp command stopping her.
“You will wait here. She will come to you.”
“As you say, my lord,” Tavia said, already tired of hearing herself say that to him, but held her tongue, too worried that she would make matters worse if she objected to his command.
“A word in private, my lady?” Hertha asked once in the Great Hall.”
“You will speak here in front of me or not at all,” Bhric ordered, turning a glare on the plump lass.