A Flame Put Out (16 page)

Suddenly the door flew open and hit the wall behind it hard enough to make both women jump. Ingrid leapt to her feet, startled, as Alrik stormed into the room.

He ripped off his soaking cape and flung it to the floor. His gaze landed on Selia and Ingrid, and his expression froze Selia’s blood in her veins. Such fury on Alrik’s face . . . had one of the thralls caught a glimpse of Eydis and told Alrik?

Ingrid inched toward Hrefna’s bedchamber door, but Alrik wasn’t interested in his daughter. He strode to Selia, massive and menacing, and she cowered as he leaned over her with his fists clenched at his sides.

Selia gasped at the wildness in his eyes. Alrik was frequently angry with her but he had always held himself back, probably in fear of the ring. But this was different. An air of malevolence surrounded him, directed squarely at Selia. The beast was furious and it wanted to hurt her.

“What did you do, Selia? You thought you could lie down with my brother and I wouldn’t find out?”

Selia shrank as small as possible. “I don’t know of what you speak—”

Alrik picked her up by the shoulders and shoved her against the wall. “I spoke with a man in Bjorgvin who used to sail with Gunnar One-Eye. He told me everything.”

“He told you nothing!” Selia cried, squirming. “Because there is nothing to tell!”

“You’re lying!” Alrik roared, shaking her. “Otherwise you would have told me Gunnar’s men came here when I was gone. You kept it from me because you were guilty!”

“No!”

The boys ran from the bedchamber and stared, open-mouthed, at the sight of their father holding her against the wall. “Let go of her!” Geirr shouted. He lunged at Alrik and tried to push him away from Selia, but Alrik turned on the child with a snarl. He swiped at Geirr like a cat swatting a mouse. Geirr ducked but Alrik’s hand caught his ear and knocked the boy several feet across the room.

Selia screamed. “Stop!”

“Alrik, no!” Hrefna cried. She stood in the bedchamber doorway, breathless, holding on to the wall for support. Two bright spots of color had appeared in her ashy cheeks. Little Eydis clung to her in terror. Hrefna beckoned to Geirr and he crawled over to her.

Alrik paused at the appearance of Hrefna. He gawked at her for a moment, then blinked down at Eydis, taking in the face, so like that of his wife. He dropped Selia and she crumpled to her knees.

“You,” he sputtered, turning on Ingrid, “you thought you could hide your whoring from me?” The full scope of the situation hit home as it became clear Alrik realized the extent of his family’s treachery. He glared at Hrefna and then back down at Selia. “All of you hid this from me? You thought I wouldn’t find out, that you could keep me from killing your white-livered brother?”

“Alrik, please—”

He laughed harshly and stood tall over Selia. “Know that I will kill him, Selia. Know that Ainnileas will suffer greatly before he begs for death.”

Selia sagged against the wall and let out a keening wail. Faolan darted between them, quick as a flash of lightning, and pulled out his father’s dagger from where it hung from his belt. “Get away from my mother,” he cried, gripping the dagger in front of him.

Alrik narrowed his eyes at his son, clenching his jaw hard. “Put that dagger down or I will break your fingers, boy.”

Faolan didn’t move. Alrik’s hand flashed out and he grabbed the child by the scruff of his neck before he could dart away. With Faolan kicking and screaming, Alrik disarmed him and sheathed the dagger back in his belt.

Alrik studied the boy closely. He looked over at Geirr, then back to Faolan, and finally turned to Selia. His face was livid. “They’re probably both Ulfrik’s bastards,” he spat. “You hid your whoring just as Ingrid did.”

Selia grabbed hold of Alrik’s arm. “No,” she cried. “Faolan is your son. Let him go!”

“Why would I believe you? Your mouth is rotten with lies. And now the little bastard pulls a dagger on me—what more proof do I need?” Alrik shook Faolan hard, and a cry escaped the child’s lips.

Cold fury coursed through Selia’s veins. She squeezed in between Alrik’s body and Faolan, then shoved at Alrik with all her strength. “I wish he wasn’t your son!” Selia shouted. “You are a terrible father! I wish I had left with Ulfrik when I had the chance!”

Alrik gawped, dumbstruck, and dropped Faolan. The room was deathly quiet and for a long moment all that could be heard was the storm raging outside.

Then Alrik snapped and released a howl of rage that echoed through the room. Grabbing Selia by the hair, he dragged her toward their bedchamber. Faolan looked panicked and made a move to go after them.

“No!” Selia cried. “Go with Ingrid!” Alrik pulled her through the doorway and Selia twisted around and locked her gaze with Ingrid’s. “Take them away from here,” she begged.

Alrik slammed the door and bolted it shut. He strode to his chest where he kept his weapons, then released Selia. She watched in horror as he drew out his axe. Alrik was going to kill her. And he was between her and the door—there was no other way out.

“Alrik, no—”

Hrefna pounded to get in. “Alrik! Open the door!”

Alrik raised the axe over his head. Every muscle in her body coiled tight as she prepared to dart away. If she was quick enough maybe she could get around him and make it out the door.

But Alrik turned and brought the axe down hard on the chest that held all of Selia’s possessions. Screaming in fury, he smashed it until it splintered into pieces, then proceeded to destroy everything that spilled out—her clothing, jewelry; her toiletry items. Once everything she owned was ruined, he whirled to the bed, slamming the axe down on the mattress, over and over, until feathers filled the air and floated over the floor. The frenzy of destruction continued as Alrik attacked the wooden posts of the bed.

He was so enraged it was as though he had forgotten Selia was even in the room. She inched toward the door and when his back was turned, she unbolted it and slipped outside.

Hrefna leaned against the wall, sobbing and gasping for air, as pale as death. “Oh my child,” she wheezed when she saw Selia. “I thought he had killed you!”

Selia’s eyes flashed around the room. “Where are the boys?”

“Ingrid took them.”

She nodded in relief and pulled the woman toward the front door. “We have to flee, now.”

Hrefna stumbled and held back. “No. I can’t,” she panted. “I can’t make it. You go and I will keep him from following you.”

“Hrefna—”

The clatter from the bedchamber intensified. Hrefna grabbed Selia’s arm and locked eyes with her. “Selia. Go now. He won’t hurt me.”

“I won’t leave you!”

With a surprising strength given her illness, Hrefna dragged Selia to the front door and pushed her out into the rain. She slipped in the mud and fell on her backside. Hrefna slammed the door shut and Selia heard her bolt the latch.

“Go!” Hrefna yelled from inside.

Selia stared despairingly at the door, torn between making sure her children were safe, and protecting Hrefna. Alrik’s madness was in full force but Hrefna knew enough to keep out of his way. If the woman bolted herself in her bedchamber she could wait Alrik out until he exhausted himself. Of all of them, Hrefna was the only one able to reason with him.

Where would Ingrid have gone with Eydis and the boys? Selia ran to the barn to see if they had taken the horses. Ingrid and Eydis’ mounts were still stabled. Ketill’s longhouse was too far away for them to have traveled on foot. They had either gone into the woods to hide or had sought shelter at Bjorn’s.

Eydis’ fear of storms meant it was more likely Ingrid had taken the children to Bjorn.

Selia made her decision and ran.

Chapter 16

She arrived at Bjorn’s small farmstead, soaking wet and covered in mud, and pounded on the door. “Bjorn!” she cried. “It’s Selia. Please let me in!”

The door opened and Geirr and Faolan threw themselves into her arms. “
Mamai
,” Geirr choked out, “I thought he would kill you.”

“Where is Hrefna?” Ingrid demanded. She had a dagger in her hand and only sheathed it when she saw Selia was alone. Ingrid pulled Selia and the boys into the house and shut the door.

“She wouldn’t come.”

“What?” Ingrid looked as though she would strike her. “You left her there with him?”

“She wouldn’t come, Ingrid! There was nothing I could do.”

“If anything happens to her I will kill you myself.”

Selia turned her back on Ingrid and surveyed the room. There was no one else there other than Ingrid and the children. Bjorn’s family and thralls were conspicuously absent although there was a pot of stew bubbling at the hearth. “Where is everyone?”

“Bjorn left to get Ketill and Bolli. I told him my father had gone completely mad and probably killed you.”

“Where is his family?”

“They went with him in the wagon. He wasn’t going to leave them here if my father came after us.”

Selia’s heart sank. “No,” she whispered. “I need the wagon. We have to get to Ulfrik’s house.”

Ingrid scowled. “It’s a bit late to run to your lover. He has long lived elsewhere.”

Selia averted her gaze and took a breath to steady herself. The time had finally come; her life with Alrik was over. Somehow she had always known it would happen, had always known his volatile nature would eventually push her to choose between her safety and her love for him. But once the words were said they couldn’t be unsaid.

“I’m leaving Alrik. And there is something at Ulfrik’s house I need.”

Alrik had destroyed all of her jewelry save for the necklace she was wearing and her carved silver ring. How much would those be worth if she sold them? Not enough to buy passage out of Norway for her and the boys. She needed to get to the beach at Ulfrik’s house and dig up the bride price. But how to travel there without a wagon? And how to gain Bjorgvin without Alrik finding them first?

Selia could feel tears burning at the back of her eyes again, and she blinked them away.

Ingrid studied Selia as though assessing her intentions. “If you’re leaving, we’re coming with you.”

Selia’s narrowed eyes took in her stepdaughter; the face that was so like Alrik’s. She despised Ingrid with a passion. Only for Eydis’ sake would she consider taking her along. And Ingrid knew that.

But Ingrid was nearly as big as a man and expert with a dagger. Plus she could saddle a horse.

Both Geirr and Faolan were excellent riders but neither boy had strength enough to tighten the saddle. If Selia allowed Ingrid to come, she could saddle Bjorn’s other horses and Selia could double up with Faolan or Geirr. They could ride to Ulfrik’s house to dig up the bride price and then from there go to Bjorgvin to buy passage on the first ship sailing out of the harbor in the morning. With any luck they would be gone before Alrik even knew where to look for them.

Whether Selia liked it or not, she needed Ingrid. She gritted her teeth. “All right. But we leave now.”

They rode through the woods toward Ulfrik’s house, avoiding the ridge that Alrik typically took. As purple twilight descended upon the forest, the rain turned to a drizzle, soaking them to the bone.

Miserably cold, Selia rode behind Geirr on one of Bjorn’s horses and clung to him, both in an attempt to stay astride the animal as well as to keep Geirr warm. He was shivering so badly Selia feared he would fall.

Ingrid rode Bjorn’s largest horse, with Eydis in front of her and Faolan behind. None of the children had their cloaks and Eydis was barefoot. In their haste to get away from Alrik, Ingrid hadn’t let Eydis retrieve her wet shoes from Hrefna’s bedchamber.

Selia was pensive as they rode. The brief sense of relief she had felt with her decision to leave had dissipated when the stark reality of their current situation hit her.

They’d flee for their lives. Two women and three children with no supplies other than what they had quickly snatched from Bjorn’s pantries. Her boys were trying to be brave but Selia could sense their fear. And they were right to be afraid, for it was as though the rule Alrik had always abided by had suddenly been torn away. His fury was now directed at Selia and at them.

Alrik had snapped just as his father had before him. He had lost control and terrorized his family in a way that was very personal, very real. The boys had seen him at his worst and knew to avoid him when he was angry, but Alrik’s rage had never been directed at them as intensely. Selia had always been able to deflect it from them. Alrik would typically stomp off and gather himself, sometimes staying away for a bit if necessary.

But this was different.

This was a harsh reminder that Selia had married a berserker. A dangerous man whom she had seen kill in the blink of an eye. And his hands had been on her children.

There could be only one outcome to these events. Selia would divorce Alrik and save her boys from the fate of Jorulf Ragnarson.

Hadn’t Selia always known, somehow, that this would happen? Hadn’t she always known at some point she would be forced to make a choice between Alrik and her own safety, and that of her children? Ulfrik had presented her with the opportunity to leave and Selia hadn’t taken it. She had stayed with Alrik even after learning what kind of man he was. She had stayed with him knowing the restless beast would eventually turn on her.

She’d fooled herself into believing she could help Alrik—could save him somehow. Instead she had nearly gotten them all killed.

Why hadn’t I been more prepared?

She’d have been wise to dig up the bride price from Ulfrik’s house and move it somewhere closer. She should have kept cloaks and supplies at the ready. But somehow, to prepare for Alrik’s inevitable breakdown would have been an admission of defeat. An admission that Selia could not, after all, stop Alrik from turning into Ragnarr.

And what of poor Hrefna? She was so fragile now. Who would take care of her? Selia wanted to believe Alrik wouldn’t hurt his aunt, the closest thing he had to a mother. But how could she know for sure? How could Selia live with herself knowing she had left Hrefna behind?

There was a sound of hoof beats in the distance. Selia stilled and listened. A solitary rider was approaching. Her heart hammered in her ears and she motioned Ingrid and Geirr to turn deeper into the woods, off the path completely. They hid in a dark thicket of trees but the sound of the hoof beats intensified. There was a shrill whinny from Alrik’s horse as it reared up behind them. Geirr’s body tensed tight in preparation to defend his mother, and Selia felt his hand move to unsheathe his dagger.

“Selia,” Alrik called. His voice was angry and hard but not out of control as it had been before. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Selia wrapped her hand around Geirr’s to hide the dagger. She willed herself to stay strong. “We’re leaving. Don’t try to stop us.”

“I do not give you permission to leave. Go back to the house, now.”

Selia confronted him, her teeth chattering in fear and cold. “I’m finished, Alrik. I will not have you hurt my children.”

In the wet undergrowth the horse pranced beneath Alrik’s big body. Selia saw his jaw clench. The leather of his saddle creaked as he leaned directly into her face, his blue eyes boring into hers.

“Selia. You will go home now.”

“No.” She took a deep breath to brace herself. “I divorce you, Alrik.”

For several long seconds he stared at her, and she cringed to see a flicker of panic in his eyes. This would not end well. Alrik’s hand whipped through the air and snatched her from the horse, and Selia screamed as she was pulled onto his saddle.

The boys flew into an uproar, shouting and flashing their daggers, as Eydis burst into tears.

Alrik turned the horse and galloped away.

He pushed the horse for speed over the wet ground, much too fast for safety, back in the direction of Bjorn’s house. Selia tried to twist around to reason with him but Alrik’s heavy arm held her tight against his chest. The wind rushed through her ears and she couldn’t tell if Ingrid and the children were following them.

Would Ingrid have enough sense to use this opportunity to escape and take the boys with her? The thought of never seeing her children again rent Selia’s very soul from her body.

But they would be safe. They would be alive. And Faolan wouldn’t be given over to Odin like some bloody sacrifice.

Alrik reared the horse to a stop at Bjorn’s farmstead. He dismounted and dragged Selia by the arm toward the blacksmith’s stable.

Selia had never been inside the building where Bjorn worked. It was nearly the size of Bjorn’s house, with a large fire pit in the middle surrounded by several work tables. Other tables against the walls held the raw material he used. Metal rings and utensils of various sizes hung from hooks on the wall.

Selia’s stomach gnawed with anxiety as she stumbled within the entrance. “Why are we here?” she choked out to Alrik. But he ignored the question and pulled her to the furthest corner of the room, away from the doorway. He pushed her to her knees with a look of contempt.

The fire was still hot. Bjorn must have been working when Ingrid had arrived with the children. Alrik picked a small slug of iron from one of the tables and dropped it into the fire. Selia eyed him warily. What did he mean to do? She searched for something she could use as a weapon. There was nothing sharp nearby, but the table next to her held several hefty blocks of metal. Selia grabbed one when Alrik’s back was turned and hid it in the folds of her gown.

The door flew open and Bjorn, Ketill, and Bolli charged inside. They took in the sight of Alrik at the forge and Selia cowering in the corner. Alrik turned on them with a snarl.

“Oath breakers, every one of you. I should run the lot of you through and be done with it.”

“What are you talking about?” Ketill asked.

“Your ‘granddaughter,’” Alrik spat. “No one thought to tell me she had been sired by a spineless Irishman? You thought you could keep this from your Hersir?”

Ketill stepped forward. The look on his face was as defiant as Selia had ever seen it. “Alrik. Ingrid is my niece—the only living child of my dead sister. I will not see her hurt. Her child has the blood of my father in her veins, whether sired by Bolli or not.”

“That matters nothing! You hid Ingrid’s whoring from me.”

“The child looked enough like Bolli early on. There was nothing to hide. And when I realized the truth, I cared for the girl too much for it to matter.”

Alrik’s face darkened. “Then you are a fool. And your son is an even bigger fool.”

Bolli approached Alrik. His foot had healed as well as could be expected, but he still walked with a noticeable limp. “Where are they? What have you done with them?”

Alrik laughed. “I’ve done nothing with them. They were leaving you. They probably continued on, so you should consider yourself lucky to be rid of them.”

Bolli looked visibly shaken. Ketill nodded in Selia’s direction. “And what are you doing with her?”

Alrik turned back to study Selia. His face seemed lit with some evil purpose, and Selia shrank back against the wall as she gripped the hunk of metal. “I’m going to show her what happens to those who defy me.”

Yanking one of the metal rings from the wall, he advanced on Selia. She stared at it, dumbstruck, as the ugly realization set in. It was a slave collar. And Alrik was about to put it on her.

Selia cried out and darted around him as he reached for her. She ran over to the group of men. “Help me,” Selia begged Ketill.

“I can’t,” he said, shaking his head. He looked very sad. “I’m sorry.”

Selia heard Alrik’s footsteps behind her. In a panic she threw her arms around Ketill’s neck and held on. “Have you heard from Ulfrik?” she whispered into his ear.

Alrik grabbed her and tore her away from Ketill. Selia met Ketill’s gaze, imploring him with her eyes. Ulfrik had said if Selia ever wanted to leave, all she need do was go to Ketill and he would get word to him. Ulfrik would help her with no expectation of anything in return.

But would Ketill remember the code Ulfrik had told him so long ago? And if he remembered, would he even care? Ketill had told Selia he was only willing to allow Bolli to claim Ingrid’s child for the sake of Grainne, the woman he loved. He didn’t care if Selia died and had even stated it would be easier on all of them if she had.

Ketill stared at Selia for a long moment, then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

Selia’s relief was short lived as Alrik pulled her toward the fire. “No!” she shouted at him. “You cannot do this, Alrik. I am your wife!”

He turned on her with a snarl. “You are my wife no longer. You divorced me. I told your father I would have you as my wife or my thrall. So now you will be my thrall.”

Selia screamed and tried to hit him with the hunk of metal, but Alrik blocked the attack. He jerked the metal from her hand and threw it aside. Then he bent her face first over the work table closest to the fire, pinning her down by her head.

Alrik ripped the jeweled necklace from her throat and slung it into the fire. “Bjorn,” he barked. “Unless you want to see her burned, come and help me.”

Selia writhed frantically but couldn’t move. She reached behind her and dug into his hand with her fingernails; his grip didn’t loosen. “Alrik, stop!” she begged. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean what I said!”

Alrik only growled harshly as he slapped the cold metal collar around her neck. Bjorn retrieved the iron slug from the fire with a pair of tongs, and Selia’s eyes grew large as she saw it. A rivet to secure the collar around her neck that could only be broken by a chisel struck with great force very close to the head, as Bjorn had done when Muirin had been freed.