Loveweaver (14 page)

Xanthus hiked up his braccas over his round middle, planted his feet wide apart. “She left an easy trail. There were few along the journey who had not heard that the renowned StoneHeart pulled a silk-clad Viking from the sea. Vlas here, heard of your inquiries at Rochester’s, saw you with her. It is also well known where you reside and where you would be today. As for evidence of the stolen money purse, no doubt you have it in your possession. As to her being my property and wife, these men, as well as six others, will provide testaments to the transaction. I have no witnesses of her burning my ship, but I am as sure of it as I am my own name. Ask her yourself about all of it!” His men smirked, then exploded in laughter. 

Slayde did not move, neither did Byrnstan do other that await her reply. “My Broder accidentally killed one of Xanthus’ men,” Llyrica said, stepping out slightly from behind Slayde. She yet clung to his tunica. “I sought appeasement through payment of
my
hard earned coin! Xanthus declared it not enough, but would take me as well in exchange that he not take Broder’s life. I had no choice but to submit!”

“How did the marriage fit in, lass?” Byrnstan asked. Expectancy lit his features, but she was bound to disappoint him. Slayde’s back stiffened under her hands.

“Xanthus hauled me to an ale lodge, where in a drunken state he thought it a joke to marry his newest prize. A foul priest was present, equally drunk, to perform the rites. In this I also had no choice.”

Slayde remained motionless, kept his sights on the men in the dim chapel. “Pray tell all, Llyrica. What of burning the man’s ship?”

She did not find it a pleasant memory to recall. “Xanthus would have me first, took me to a dark, portioned corner of the hall. His men continued to drink, waiting their turn.  Very shortly, though, I was able to crawl out from under Xanthus, who was soon dead to the world. With the money purse once more in my possession, I made my way out through a hole in the rotten wall. In darkness, Broder and I made our escape, first securing a faering and a barrel of my wovengoods, which were on a ship also at port. Yea, we did set fire to Xanthus ship before we set off. This was to slow his pursuit.”   

Slayde turned his head to look at her, his brow knitted in apparent disbelief. He regained a stern expression as he again addressed Xanthus. “It seems neither party disputes the facts. But I say a new bargain can be made. Llyrica will hand over the money purse and I will pay an additional amount for the price of your ship and for you to divorce her. You will leave her with me. Name your ...”

Xanthus appeared to have heard enough, and looked ready to explode. “Indeed I will take the money purse! ‘Twas payment for my crewman’s life! And yea, I need reparation made for my ship. But nay, StoneHeart. You will not keep her. She was part of the deal and is my wife to boot.”

“We will pay well for her,” Byrnstan added. “Surely you will name a sum.”

Xanthus fingered his beard smugly. “Nay. I want her as my wife, after all. She is pale and comely and soft in her silks. I will keep her.”

Llyrica pressed her way around Slayde to address Xanthus face to face, cursing the trouble her silk garments had reaped. “Many may have witnessed our vows, but our marriage is not bound in the eyes of the church.
It was not consummated
.”

Puffy cheeks reddened, Xanthus sputtered indignantly as Byrnstan stepped forward, encouraged. “And look here,” the priest said. “We have a signed document. Clear proof of her marriage to StoneHeart.”

Xanthus opened his palm and Vlas, the TwistedBeard, handed him a scroll. “I have a marriage document as well, marked by the woman and me. As to her claim that we are not bound by our flesh, I did so do the deed!”

“He did not, I swear it!” Llyrica said. Turning to tilt her face to Slayde, she found him unreadable, his mouth hard. She feared now that StoneHeart would let Xanthus take her back, sentence her to a life with a slaver. “He was ale-soaked and unable to – to do the act in his unconscious state! And since he did not, then I am not truly wed to him, as I am to you.”

Byrnstan’s eyes were on Llyrica, and she knew his thoughts were in agreement with hers. Neither had Slayde and Llyrica
done the deed.
Slayde pinned her with a stony stare, but his attention seemed to lie within himself. He must be trying to recall what did or did not transpire on their wedding night.

“I can prove it to you, StoneHeart, that Xanthus was not successful,” she said. “I have such proof in your house. If all can grant you and me an hour’s time to return there, I will show you. Bring two priests. Byrnstan as one and the other chosen by Xanthus.” She then turned to address her first husband. “If I can prove it, I will return you the money purse, a sizable payment from StoneHeart, and you must agree to let me go. If I am unsuccessful, then I shall be yours.”

“I need not submit to a test! I have the prior claim!” Xanthus took a step forward, but moved back when StoneHeart leaned in.

“But we now have a dispute against your claim,” said Byrnstan. “I do not think this involves anyone submitting to a test. Grant the lass an hour and perhaps the StoneHeart will not round up the lot of you and use you for target practice among his troops.”

Good of Byrnstan to inform the motley band of StoneHeart’s military might, whether or not it extended to civilian matters. Slayde concurred with menacing silence and disdainful regard. Llyrica’s notice landed on his knuckles, white where they tightly gripped his sword hilt.

Xanthus looked to hold his breath, with face turning blue in anger. He finally exhaled his frustration. “She is up to no good. A trickster, she is.” A pause elapsed as he sized up Slayde’s height, black tunica and bold braid. “One hour, then. We will follow and bring a priest.”

Slayde took Llyrica by the arm and led her out of the chapel into the rain, Byrnstan at their heels, the motley lot soon after. Llyrica knew they made a strange sight, given evidence by the open-mouthed stares of bystanders. She lamented the lack of her cloak, that she was not hidden within a hood. She also thought of Broder, wondered if he was in trouble or dead. If not for him, she might yet be safely anonymous behind the loom in the Crone’s Cave, with the deathbed promise still shrouded in her reluctance.

The tight clasp of the StoneHeart’s hand and his long, jarring strides on the muddied streets of SouthWark toward London’s garrison, induced near as much anxiety in Llyrica as the unwelcome arrival of Xanthus. She soon faced not the gentle, mint-scented sleepwalker, but a furious StoneHeart. An
hour
with the furious StoneHeart.

Broder did not tell Haesten every detail. But he told the warlord the high points of his adventure: escape after a false accusation of murder, a journey on a merchant’s ship, and the sister who accompanied him most likely in the hands of StoneHeart. It was the first time Broder had admitted to having a sister, a confession to his new mentor.

For Broder’s first few years he believed Solvieg’s warning. If he told anyone of Llyrica, the devil would have his tongue on a spit. In time, childish fears gave way to questions that Llyrica herself had answered.
‘Tis the way I wish to live,
she had said.
Keep my secret, Pup, that you have a sister who hides behind a loom. In all other things be disobedient and wild. But not in this, I pray
. He had assented to the fervency of her tone, and indeed, aiding in her cloaked, clandestine visits into Hedeby fit well in his larcenous sensibilities. 

“StoneHeart is a dagger in my eye.” Haesten’s slurred speech roused Broder from his memories. “And before him, his father Ceolmund.” The warlord lounged in his high seat, swigged ale from a horn.

Broder sat on a nearby bench with Egil and Lunt as companions. Haesten’s two giant advisors huddled around, hanging on their leader’s every word. From Kare, the dark wiry-haired man and Lang, balding with bushy gray eyebrows, Broder soon learned an attentive ear was rewarded. His own listening skills further put him in favor with Haesten, who talked long lessons of warfare and raiding.

The hall pressed close with afternoon warmth and one hundred unwashed Vikings. Two men wrestled, surrounded by a dozen waiting their turn. Others guzzled ale, gambling over games of morels and hneftafl. The drone of male voices ignited with frequent outbreaks of temper. Cheating and losing were not tolerated well among hungry, bored men, with only themselves for company. In the crowded barracks and muddy yards it was worse. In Haesten’s hall though, diversions lay in the form of female flesh, and a few of the whores from the previous night yet writhed beneath humping bodies in corners. Others sat on laps of the gamers, including the quiet, blond lass that Broder had taken a turn with. Norna was her name. More than once his gaze drew to her, found her looking at him through lowered lashes. He must think of a subject of conversation and find opportunity to speak to her.

The old warlord’s face reddened, a vein at his temple bulged. “StoneHeart’s father and King Alfred captured my old wife, Audhild, and my two young sons at Benfleet three summers ago, and tortured them before returning them to me. Aye, the king gave me a fortune in geld to quit, and I left with my army for Buttington to regroup. But I am returned to prove StoneHeart that he is not through with me, just as I proved it to Odo of West Francia, Rodulf of St. Vaast and Arnulf of East Francia. The lands and churches of east Wessex have much to fear from me.” He rewarded his own boasting with thunderous laughter, continuing until tears ran down scarlet cheeks. Kare and Lang cast sideways glances at each other.

Broder added those victims' names to Haesten’s legendary plunderings, but sought assurances regarding Llyrica. “StoneHeart tortured your wife and children. What of my sister?”

“If she is with StoneHeart, she is gravely ill used, I vow. He is infamous for tormenting his women slaves and his demented use of a sword blade heated in the fire.”

“Say it not!” Distraught and alarmed, Broder rose to his feet. Egil and Lunt followed suit. “Do not tell me that StoneHeart would torture my sister! If she is used, the blame is mine. I ready to go to her and cut out the man’s heart!”

“Will you do it with a pitchfork used for mucking horse dung?” Lang prompted another round of laughter, soon quieted by a wave of Haesten’s hand.

More composed, but out of breath, Haesten leaned in. “You are indeed in need of a weapon, with which I will provide you. A sword perhaps, and I will put it in your hands and show you how to use it. But patience, Broder. Are you one to run off half-drawn and act without thought? Plan your moves. Do not be at the whim of impulse. ‘Twill put you at another man’s mercy.”

Llyrica had often spoken these things, but Haesten’s voice and age weighted the advice with reason. Broder took it to heart. “A sword, lord Haesten? What plans can I make against the StoneHeart?”

Haesten grimaced with a touch of infirmity as he left his seat to cross the hall. Rumblings quieted a notch as men watched in curiosity as, from a large chest, he removed a sword and returned to hand it to Broder. The beautiful thing must weigh two stone and measured the length of Norna’s slender leg. The afternoon haze shone dully on the silver blade and hilt, but gleamed bright on the ornate pommel where scrolls intertwined a raven.

“There are yet hours of daylight left. Let us all to outside for war games!” Haesten’s voice boomed to the corners and rafters. “You, Broder. Take this, the Ravenwing, and learn to use it. I will tell you how we wait for StoneHeart to come to us, for he will. Reports of his campaign have preceded him as gray clouds precede rain. He means to attack this fortress, but will be sorely thwarted. Before we put him aside though, we will demand he hand over your sister. Then you may cut out his heart.”

Broder stared awestruck at the iron weapon in his hands, took it by the hilt. He noted the envy on Egil and Lunt’s faces at the gift the warlord paid a newcomer. “I am nearly grown to a man, but the Ravenwing counts as my first true weapon. May I use it to your honor, Lord Haesten. Our enemies are one and the same.”
I will run it through StoneHeart.

This looked to please Haesten. “Stay by me, boy. I am wont to tell you all I know.”

Beside his fresh hatred of StoneHeart, grateful pride and recognition of his good fortune swelled in Broder’s chest. His path had been made straight where it had only just been crooked. He dared glimpse at Norna, still in the lap of a morels player, caught her eye and shy flutter of lashes. A topic for discussion might be the Ravenwing or perhaps a comment on her flaxen hair. He would tell her how he would save his sister.