Sandra Hill - Viking in Love

N ORTHUMBRIA, A.D. 965

O h Lord, from the fury of the Norsemenuh, Norsewomen, deliver us

Is he dead yet?

Breanne asked the question before glancing around the earls bedchamber at her four sisters, all of them daughters of King Thorvald of Stoneheim in the Norselands. As usual, each had an opinion and did not mind speaking over the others.

For the love of Thor! How would I know?

We will neer find husbands if we keep killing men.

This is the first one we have killed, you lackbrain.

Well, how was I to know that? The rest of you performed the task with ease.

The rest of us? Hah! We are all responsible for thisthis happenstance.

Happenstance?

Oh, gods! We shall all hang.

Or be drawn and quartered.

Or have our heads lopped off.

I, for one, do not feel guilty. Not one bit. He was a beast.

What is that green substance coming out of his nose?

Snot, you halfwit.

Oh. Are you sure? Methinks it might be his brain oozing out.

Yecch!

Brains do not ooze. Do they?

Something stinks. Dost think he soiled his braies?

For a certainty. Ooooh, look. I have neer seen so much blood.

Tsk, tsk! Do you not know that head wounds always bleed profusely?

Then mayhap he is still alive. Someone should check to make sure.

Uh-uh! I get a rash around dead people.

I am not going to touch him.

Me, neither!

The very thought makes me bilious.

I would not know a dead body from a salted lutefisk.

Much nervous laughter erupted.

Momentarily silent, they all stared down at the body of Oswald, earl of Havenshire. Except for one sister, who was huddled in a chair in the far corner, whimpering as she held a possibly broken arm against her chest. Ofttimes referred to as Vana the White because of her Icelandic white-blonde hair, she had more than earned that title today with her fair, deadly white skin contrasted against a blackened eye and a cracked lip, seeping blood. The finger marks about her neck, old and new, resembled a black and blue and yellow torque. Vana was the wife of the late Oswaldlate as of five minutes ago.

Breannes back went rigid with anger. Truly, she would gladly kill the brute all over again for what he had done to her gentle sister. She could only imagine what a nightmare Vanas one-year marriage had been. If only they had left the Norselands earlier to visit her in her Saxon home!

There was a light knock on the door.

Everyone stiffened with alarm.

They must needs dispose of the body, but Breanne had no idea how they could manage the feat in a keep filled with housecarls and servants, all loyal to the beastly nobleman. Now it was too late.

Breanne stood and motioned for Vana to step forth. Despite her condition, Vana would have to answer. Limping toward her, Vana stood bravely and faced the closed door. Who is it?

Rashid.

Five sets of shoulders sagged with relief. Rashid was the assistant to Adam the Healer, a physician, Breannes sister Tyras husband. With a snort of disgust, Tyrawho was extremely tall for a woman and very strong, having once been a warriorjerked the door open, grabbed Rashid by the arm, and yanked him inside, shutting the door behind him.

Breanne had the good sense to lock it.

What are you doing here? Following me? demanded Tyra, hands on hips.

Allah be praised, it is good to see you, too, Tyra.

Rashid spoke in heavily accented English, and he still, after all these years, wore the traditional Arab garb of hooded robe with rope belt, over Saxon tunic and braies. Your husband asked me to follow and see what you were up toI mean, to offer you protection in the event of He slapped a hand over his heart as he noticed the nobly clad body lying in a pool of blood on the stone-flagged floor. For the love of a camel! What have you done?

When we arrived for a visit unannounced, we found the spineless lout beating our sister with his fists and a whip, Tyra explained. When I broke his whip, he came at me with a knife, which I turned on him.

They all glanced at the knife, which still protruded from his belly.

Some of the sisters began to weep.

Oh, good gods! Not the tears again! Breanne stepped between Tyra and Rashid. It wasnt just Tyra. We all played a part. I, for one, hit him over the head with a poker when Tyras knife thrust did not immediately fell him.

And I kicked him when he was down, Ingrith said on a sniffle, her blue eyes sparkling with fury. So hard was she shaking her head that strands of golden-blonde hair were coming loose from her long braids.

I kicked him, too. In the head. Just to make sure he was bloody well dead. Drifa paused. Is he dead?

Rashid went down on one knee and put his fingertips to a certain spot on the earls neck. Dead as a fly on a cobras tongue.

Rashid always had a way with words, especially proverbs, one of which he spouted now as he stood to his full height, wiping his hand on his robe with distaste. Death is a black camel that lies down at every door. Sooner or later every man must ride the camel. Like yon earl.

We are in big trouble, since we brought that camel. The earl is a member of the kings Witan. He has friends in high places, Breanne disclosed.

But you had just cause, Rashid said. They only have to look at Lady Havenshires battered body to understand how this came about.

That does not signify. Vana surprised everyone by speaking up, and with such vehemence. Dost think they care? His housecarls and servants, friends and foe, all knew good and well how my lords temper could be set off at the least thing. He blamed me for not yet breeding him a son, but any excuse would do for his fist or whip. A missing comb. A broken bowl. My monthly courses.

Still, Rashid argued, there are laws.

All the women shook their heads. The wergild for a woman was ofttimes barely higher than a cow, and less than a horse.

Well, then, we must make haste to hide the body, Rashid said, lifting his hands with resignation.

Finally, someone is using their head for thinking and not leaking tears.

How are we going to hide the body? And where? Ingrith asked, wringing her hands. And weeping.

Tis impossible, Drifa said. We are doomed. More tears.

The difficult is done at once, but the impossible merely takes a little longer.

Are you saying we can cover up thisaccident? Tyra looked imploringly at her husbands good friend.

Do not stand in the midst of rain and ask Allah for a hat. Allah helps those who help themselves.

Her sisters looked toward Breanne.

Even though Tyra was the oldest, her sisters always expected Breanne to lead. Tis agreedwe need a plan. Rashid, pull off one of those bed drapes so we can wrap the body. Ingrith, take some linens out of the chest and mop up the blood. Drifa, get the pitcher and bowl of water and try to remove the stain on the floor.

In the meantime, Breanne opened the door carefully to check on any guards who might be passing in the hall. There were none. It was late evening, long past dinner. Sounds of laughter could be heard coming from the great hall, where the men were no doubt downing cups of ale and tupping every maid they could get their slimy hands on, willing or not. They probably thought Lord Havenshire was up here in his bedchamber doing the same. For all they knew, Vanas sisters, come to visit, had been led to separate bedchambers on another level and would greet their sister for the first time in the morn.