Her Heart's Desire (5 page)

Chapter Five

Ealasaid met them at the doorway. She paled at the blood, then grabbed Hella's arm. “I heard the screams. What happened?”

Birgir tore free of Idunna's grasp. “You're squeezing too tight, Aunt Idunna.”

“Sorry, boy.” She clenched her fists, her gaze riveted on Eoghann. “Can you help him, Ealasaid?”

Her husband's face was ashen gray, the color of a man whose life was ebbing away.

“I have to see the damage.” Ealasaid pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “Hella?”

Erik rose from the stool he occupied. Two twists of rags hung from either side of his swollen, bruised nose. “That's no sword wound.”

Hella's expression was grim. “A bowman fired from a rooftop. Eoghann pushed me out of the way. There are men in pursuit of the one who holds the bow.”

Ealasaid met her gaze. “You know I'll do my best, Idunna.” She stepped aside. “Bring him in. Do not tarry. Time matters. Send someone to find Ulrika. I need her assistance. Put him on the table, on his side so I can see if the arrow went through.”

Ealasaid wasted no time tearing his jerkin away from the wound. Soaked with crimson, the blue material that had matched his eyes glistened as it drooped around his midriff. She wiped blood away with a damp rag. “I can remove it the same way it went in. No need to push it through. Idunna, I need comfrey to put on it immediately after I pull the arrow out. The herb will stop the bleeding.” She gripped the shaft. “This will be bad, brother.”

The great shaft trembled with every breath Eoghann took. “Pain is part of living.”

Her words, echoed from their first night together. Idunna drew in a breath and forced a smile. “My brave husband. The comfrey will help and then something for the pain. No one in Solstad is better with herbs than your sister. I'll set to work steeping the comfrey.”

Her hands shook as she retrieved the dried herbs. Water boiled over the fire in the center of the room and the crisp scent of herbs covered the stench of blood. The work helped settle her nerves.00

Eoghann hissed again as Ealasaid dabbed at the blood. “Christo, woman.”

Idunna smoothed hair away from her forehead. “Don't fight her. Ealasaid has treated much worse than this.” She stirred the boiling pot. “This will only be a bit longer.”

It should have steeped an hour or two, but Ealasaid met her gaze and nodded. The more time they waited, the weaker Eoghann seemed. Idunna strained the leaves from the water into a clean wooden bowl. She blew steam from them, hoping to cool the herbs before they applied them to the wound.

Eoghann reached for her hand when she returned to his side. He squeezed so tight, her fingers popped, but she didn't begrudge him the right.

“Hold him down while I remove it.” Ealasaid flexed her fingers around the shaft. “I am sorry, Eoghann, for this.”

The curse that spilled from Eoghann's mouth wasn't fit for a woman's ears. He strained against Hella and Bjorn's holds, but they kept him pinned to the oak table. Dark blood ran freely from the wound as Ealasaid pulled the arrow out little by little. With a wet squelch, it slid from his flesh, then clattered to the floor.

Ulrika pushed through the door. “What do you need, my lady?” The old thrall grimaced at the scene. Her wrinkles deepened as she stared at Eoghann. She shifted her gaze to Hella. “You know whose fletch that is.”

Hella nodded. His eyes were dark, his expression stormy. “Jarl Ofbradh's. A less than subtle attempt on my life.”

Ealasaid pressed a folded cloth to Eoghann's wound. Her eyes rounded. “Why would he try to kill you?”

Hella shrugged. “We'll learn the reason when we catch the marksman. Do you require further help from me?”

“No, with Ulrika here, I can manage what must be done.”

“And Idunna?” Hella placed his blood stained hand on her shoulder.

She wanted to throw off his hand, but allowed it to rest where it landed. “I'll stay. I don't wish to leave him.”

“Someone needs to care for Fulla,” Ealasaid said. “Ulrika must stay to help me.”

“I can't—I will not leave him, my lady.” She bowed her head, but kept her gaze on her husband. “Please.”

Eoghann squeezed her hand. “Go. Safer near the dining hall where the others are.”

“But—”

“Then make yourself useful. I'll need the dried yarrow. Steep it with agrimony and marigold too. Bandages. Ulrika, a bit of nightshade to help him sleep. There's no need for him to suffer through my tending.” Ealasaid smiled, though it was weak. “There will be a hero's welcome for you when you wake again, Eoghann.”

“No. I need one favor from Hella.” He turned his head toward Hella and reached for the king. “Keep Idunna safe. Protect her as I would.”

“You have my word, brother.” Hella clasped Eoghann's wrist. The king's knuckles turned white under the force of his grip. “No harm will befall Idunna as long as I watch.”

Touched by Hella's gesture, Idunna forced back tears. Such a show of emotion wouldn't help her husband.

Hella motioned at Erik and Bjorn, then took silent, pale Birgir by the shoulder.

Part of her hoped the marksman was already dead. Another part demanded to know why he'd come. The name Ofbradh wasn't familiar. What could he have against Hella?

She fumbled with the jars of healing herbs, grateful when Ulrika came to help.

“Here now, give him tincture of nightshade in wine first. Just two drops to make him sleep. He needs rest to heal while Ealasaid cleans the wound.” Ulrika mixed the liquids, then passed them to Idunna.

She'd done the same for the many men wounded at Freysteinn, but her hands shook as she held the cup to Eoghann's lips. He offered no resistance. Perhaps he desired the swift release of sleep—or hoped for something more permanent without the suffering putrefaction brought.

“Ulrika and Ealasaid are good with herbs. Such a small wound is easily treated and you will return to your workshop in little time.” She twined her fingers through his. “To our bed where I will tend you in more intimate ways.”

“A delightful prospect. One I hope to attend, but...” His eyes were glassy as the beads on Ealasaid's necklace that clacked while she mixed the poultice. “Another will desire you. A proper
vikingr.
One of your own. Give you the many sons and daughters you hope for.”

His gasping words hurt like a blow. “I didn't save you from the noose to watch you die with the pull of a bowstring. I do not accept that, Eoghann.”

But he was asleep, carried away by pain and the drowsing effects of nightshade tincture.

“If you hope he'll live, send your prayers to Eir.” Ulrika's wisened face creased. “And you best hope Eoghann finds good reason to refuse Valhalla should Valkyries come calling.”

“Ulrika, stop.” Ealasaid packed the wound with herbal plaster. “He is of good stock. Kentigerns don't die easily.”

The thrall nodded. “I will attest to that. He's a strong lad with every reason to live. Any man with such a sweet woman to warm his bed would fight to return to her. When you finish the packing, you should join Hella. He'll give Erik all kinds of permission to torture information out of the bowman. You should be there to keep them from killing him, least till we've learned all his secrets.”

“A wise thought. Eoghann may have been an enemy, may have slain Norsemen, but what he did for Hella will stand as testament to his loyalty. He is a good man, my brother.” Ealasaid pressed the last of the poultice around the wound. “Death is no less than the intruder deserves, but I will try to intervene for the time being. Dress the outer edges with comfrey, Ulrika. For now, it's best to let him sleep. There's little more we can do but wait for him to heal.”

Or die.
Idunna's stomach turned. “But the fletch scored nothing vital?”

Still pale, Ealasaid washed blood from her hands. “I don't believe so. The angle it entered his shoulder tore a great deal of muscle. He'll be miserably sore, but it should all knit together again without leaving permanent damage.”

“They meant it for Hella.” The shaft lay on the floor where Ealasaid had dropped it. If not for Eoghann's quick work, they might be mourning the loss of their leader.

“Our numbers are low from the battle. Perhaps whatever Jarl Ofbradh's quarrel is about can be settled without more bloodshed.” Ealasaid rubbed her eyes. The weary queen overcame the determined healer. “I'm in no mood for more fighting. Not while winter rages outside.” She sighed. “I must settle Birgir's questions and see to Fulla before I seek Hella. You may stay with him, Idunna, but you should wash and change out of your stained clothing. He shouldn't wake for a while, but if he does, it may frighten him to see you so out of order.”

“I'll soak them for you,” Ulrika offered. “Then I'll bring you something warm to drink. You're shaking. A mug of hot mead will set you to rights.”

A husband, whole and healed, would serve her better. “My thanks, Ulrika. I won't be long.” She grimaced. “I hope they've killed the bowman already and I hope Hella sends his head to Ofbradh.”

“Don't fret. Justice will be had.” Ealasaid wrapped Idunna in an embrace. “To attack the king's family is an outrage. Someone will pay and we'll soon know who.”

* * * *

The white-hot burn of pain must be the punishment for sinking an axe into his own brother's head. To end a war that should never have been started, he'd become a kin killer. Saving Ealasaid hadn't reduced the severity of his sin. His good deeds fell short of outweighing the bad. Too many villages unable to defend themselves were burned because he'd been afraid to say no. Women and children had died because he didn't protest Diarmaid's actions. He'd been among a horde that trampled crops and left people—no different than himself—to starve in winter's cruel grip. Robbed Idunna of the chance to be at home among her own clan with his filthy Saxon blood.

Every barbed hook that pierced Eoghann's shoulder was a punishment earned.

A cool hand fell on his forehead. “Eoghann?”

Christo, let it be one of those damned
vikingrs'
Valkyries or the monks' holy angels come to bear me away.

He forced gritty eyes open and shivered beneath the wool blanket covering him to mid-chest.

Idunna's concerned face hovered near his. No angel, then. At least not one sent from Heaven to relieve him of mortality. But not Hell, either, which was some relief. His sweet wife, tending him as promised, though he'd never felt less like making love.

“You're hot,” she murmured.

“The opposite.” Had she left the door open and allowed winter to come inside? He pulled the blanket higher. “Water?”

“Yes.” She turned, then retrieved a horn cup for him. “I have herbs for the pain and to bring down the fever. You slept through the night, barely restless until now. Ealasaid changed the poultice a few hours ago. She has high hopes for your recovery.”

“At the moment, it feels as though all the demons of the Underworld are dancing in my shoulder.” He drank while she held the cup for him. Weakness plagued his body, although he was too thirsty to protest her help.
Could I fight if I had to?
Unlikely. “I asked Hella to keep you safe. Where is he?”

She avoided his gaze. “Asleep if he has any sense, though it's more likely he's sitting in the dark with his brothers, waiting for another attack. The bowman admitted he came on the jarl's order.”

His eyelids dragged down. “Before or after Erik tortured the truth out of him?”

“Well before. Looking at Erik for long is not an easy thing. When he brought out his knife, they say the bowman fouled himself before Erik could even threaten him.”

“I would have liked to see that. Terrible Erik with one eye and a broken nose.” He tried to shift on the hard surface, but it sent another fiery bolt of pain through him. “I would rest better in my own bed.”

“Perhaps this afternoon if you're stronger. A table is no place for a man your size, but anyone big enough to move you is asleep or occupied for now.” She brushed hair from his face. “I can bring more blankets. First you must drink the tinctures Ealasaid prepared.”

“Where is she? The boy and girl are well?”

“She's sleeping. Birgir too. I imagine Fulla's awake, but Ulrika planned to tend her. I'm confident she's taken care of.” She offered him another cup. “The contents are bitter. There's no way to improve the taste. Drink. I have comfrey to rub around the wound. It will help your flesh knit.”

Fortunately, there was only a small amount of liquid in the new cup. It soured on his tongue, but if the poor flavor dulled the pokers in his shoulder, so be it. “Forgive me, Idunna, for shoving you in the courtyard. I hope you weren't injured.”

“Of course not. What you did was remarkable. Stupid, but you did save Hella's life.” Her fingers lighted on his scarred cheekbone. “Why did you put yourself at risk?”

“He didn't see it. I only caught the marksman from the corner of my eye, but...there was enough time to make him move.” He closed his eyes. “I swore allegiance. If he asks service of me, I will do what I must.”

Her footsteps shuffled across the floor as she retrieved the comfrey. “I was angry with you for hitting Erik, but I've had time to reflect on it. What you did will reach the ears of others. When they hear you stood up to Erik and saved Hella, people won't see a Saxon. They will see a hero.”