Viking's Prize (40 page)

“Nei,
Bjorn, Erik’s son, art mistaken, for Olav was more your brother than ever you
allowed. It was always you who kept the distance! You, by God!” Slowly his
anger tempered, mellowed by the sight of his only remaining male kin lying gasping
for breath beneath him, tempered by sorrow for what might have been and now
would never be. “You and no one else,” he ground out miserably. “Think on that
when the nights grow long and you lie brooding in your bed—and you will
brood, brother, for ‘tis your way!” He shook his head, removing his arm from
Bjorn’s throat.

“What
have you to know of my ways?” Bjorn spat, scrambling out from under him to his
feet

Alarik’s
sigh was deep and full of pain as he rose again to face his brother. “More than
you know... more than you know... think on my words if you will—” His
eyes were melancholy as he turned his back to Bjorn, again making his way to
the
kirken
.
“Choke on them, if you would!” he called out after him. “But leave me
be—leave Gryting—take Nissa and go. The sight of you sickens me!”

Bjorn
stood rooted to the spot. “I wish to stay!” he announced.

Alarik
stiffened, turning.

Bjorn
sounded as defenseless as the little boy he’d once been, and Alarik found
himself remembering wistfully the bragging youth who had followed him so
faithfully. When had it ceased to be so? For the life of him, he couldn’t
recall. Bjorn had been a shadow to him all of his days. But no more; he’d
managed to sever the ties completely with his betrayal. He’d thought his heart could
grow no heavier but it did, yet he found he could not hate one who shared his
blood.

Mayhap...
mayhap still they could find a way back.

“I... I
did not intend it to end as it did,” Bjorn appealed. “I…”

“How
else could it have ended, Bjorn?” Alarik shook his head morosely. “I cannot
decide this now,” he announced before Bjorn could reply. He didn’t wish to hear
bloody excuses—could think only of Elienor. There was nothing left to be
done for Olav. “Stay for the time,” he allowed with a weary sigh, and then he
turned abruptly, again making his way to the
kirken
.

CHAPTER
35

Mercy, she’d done this before, had she not?

Elienor groaned as pain erupted through her head.
She rolled and endeavored to open her eyes, but the light was too strong, and
she closed them once more.

And sweet Jesu, but her body felt so tender... her
legs... It was as though her ribs and chest were bruised. Nevertheless, she
welcomed the pain, for it bespoke life. Precious life!

Taking in a long draught of air, she knew an
instant of serenity she’d never experienced before—despite her soreness,
despite her confusion—for she sensed the nightmare was ended at last.

“Elienor,” a voice called softly.

Still disoriented, Elienor’s eyes opened, focusing
after an interminable moment upon Nissa’s face hovering just above her own.
With a startled gasp, she tried to rise.

Nissa was quick to aid her. “Allow me!” she
exclaimed, placing her arms behind Elienor for support. Her expression seemed
genuinely troubled, but Elienor could only think that Nissa had been the one to
lure her to the
kirken
.
She stiffened at the touch.

“W... where... where is Alarik?” Elienor asked,
swallowing for fear that she would hear what she wished not to... that he had
perished at sea. If such was the case, her heart would perish along with him.

Nissa released Elienor at once, sensing her mistrust,
but unable to blame her for feeling it. Her lashes fell. “Only now has he gone
from your bedside,” she revealed softly. “He worried much,” she disclosed, her
gaze returning to Elienor, and it seemed to Elienor her eyes were filled with
worry as well as regret. “Does your head pain you overmuch?”

“A little,” Elienor confessed. Her lips twisted
wryly. “Though ’tis a wonder I’ve any head at all with the abuse it has
received!”

Nissa smiled uncertainly. She shook her head.
“I... I am sorry,” she said again.

“Where has Alarik gone?” Elienor asked quietly.

“I’m certain he’ll return soon,” Nissa announced.
“I-I hoped you would hear me before then—I’m so sorry!” she rushed on
when Elienor did not at once refuse her. “I meant to cause you no harm. ’Tis
simply that mine father... well, he wanted so much that I should wed Alarik.
Oh, Elienor—can you forgive me?”

Elienor’s emotions reverted from giddy relief at
knowing that Alarik was close by to her former wariness. “Why should you
suddenly wish my forgiveness?” she asked skeptically.

Only silence answered her question.

“Nissa?”

“Because I wish to stay at Gryting!” Nissa
revealed in desperation. “With mine sister! And... and Bjorn,” she said more
softly, her lashes lowering. “I... I believe I’ve loved him from the first,”
she admitted brokenly, and there was a wistful note in her voice. Once again
her sky-blue eyes returned to Elienor and they shimmered with unshed tears.
“I’ve given myself to him, Elienor... and now I carry his babe. He wants so
badly that our child be born here. Gryting is his home!” she appealed once
more.

“And what of your father?” Elienor asked.

Nissa shook her head in sorrow, suppressing a sob.
“By our laws... I am free to choose whomever I should wed. Tis only that... I
wanted so desperately to gain mine father’s favor!”

“And now?” Elienor prodded.

“And now... now I know I must follow mine heart! I
cannot allow mine babe to be born and never know his sire! Mine father—”
Tears pooled at her eyes and spilled over her lashes. “Mine father needs must
understand,” she said sadly, as though she doubted he would.

“And if he will not?”

“Then there will be naught I can do to remedy it.
I know only that I must do what I must,” Nissa contended. And then her
expression grew anxious. “Y-You’ve not told him?” she asked apprehensively, and
then she rushed on. “You’ve not told Alarik that I was the one to lead you to
the
kirken
?”
Her voice was fearful, hopeful.

Elienor shook her head.

It seemed to Elienor that Nissa’s expression
brightened suddenly. “Will... will you tell him?” she asked hesitantly.

Faced with the optimistic look in Nissa’s eyes,
Elienor knew she could not refuse the request. She shook her head. ‘I’ll not,”
she yielded.

Crying out in relief, Nissa buried her face into her
hands and wept Elienor watched a moment, feeling awkward with the unexpected
show of emotion, and then reached out to touch Nissa’s arm. Nissa lifted her
face, her brows drawing together.

“Why?” she asked in bewilderment. “Why would you
not tell him? After all I’ve done to you, Elienor?”

Elienor shrugged and shook her head. “For Alarik,”
she revealed softly. “Because Bjorn is his brother... for the nephew he might
not know otherwise... and because it seems to mean so much to you,” she
proffered.

“And to Bjorn!” Nissa assured, her lips quivering.
“He wishes so much to make things right betwixt himself and Alarik!”

Elienor nodded. “And where is Alarik now?” she
asked once more. “I... I need to see him.” She did, desperately. More than
aught else, she needed to behold him with her own eyes, needed proof that he
yet lived—that this was not part of some cruel dream, that by some twist
of fate, she would awaken and find herself alone. The last she recalled was her
flight through the air as she’d hurled herself against him.

“Oh, but Elienor! Do you think you should seek him
out so soon? You’ve only just awakened. Mayhap... mayhap it would be best if
you waited until he returned.”

“Nay!” Elienor whispered fervently, and it was her
turn to be despairing. “Nay, Nissa... I must see him! I must!”

In that instant, a look of profound understanding
passed between the two, and Nissa nodded. “Then I shall lead you to him,” she
relented, and with a tentative smile, she proceeded at once to help Elienor
rise from the bed.

Alarik had slept not at all throughout the night.

Dark shadows rimmed his steely eyes, a silent
testimony to his inner turmoil. In his heart there was an emptiness that made
him feel more vulnerable then he’d ever thought conceivable—all these
years he’d mistakenly assumed love, itself, rendered a man impotent. Now he
knew better... It was not love, at all, but fear of loving that was the true
weakness, for by it he’d lost everything.

Kneeling at the altar, he thought of Elienor lying
so still within his bed and his gut twisted. He’d never done such a thing as
pray ere now, for the old gods were not invoked in such a manner. Nevertheless...
he felt the need to attempt the strange ritual... for Elienor’s sake—for
his sake!

The door had been left ajar.

During Elienor’s absence, the roof had been
erected, and the little building was now shadowy within. Still... she could see
well enough to make out the figure kneeling before the altar.

With Nissa supporting her, Elienor halted silently
in the portal of the
kirken
. Her heart pounded within her breast at the sight before
her. Stunned, she broke free of Nissa and leaned upon the door frame for
support. She turned and motioned for Nissa to leave her, and then her gaze was
drawn again, like metal to a lodestone, to the curious sight within.

Never had she seen Alarik pray... and though he
did so awkwardly, his sincerity was evident in his every gesture. Still, to her
surprise, she found it changed nothing. Nothing, at all. She shook her head,
bewildered, for in truth she felt the same for him now as she had moments
before.

She loved him recklessly.

Alarik sensed the presence well before he heard
the footsteps enter the
kirken
, but didn’t bother to pause, nor did he conceal his prayers.
He cared not who spied him at it now, for he’d kept his convictions to himself
much too long. Mayhap, had he been more convincing, Olav might have changed his
tactics. Mayhap he would have softened? And mayhap not, he acknowledged
ruefully.

Only when he’d concluded did he turn, his brows
drawn together in displeasure, expecting to find either Bjorn or Brother Vernay
observing him, and was stunned to find neither. His shadowed eyes widened at
the sight that greeted him. Elienor, in all her tattered glory. His heart
quickened. “Elienor?” he croaked. He surged clumsily to his feet, lack of sleep
making his body unwieldy.

For the longest moment neither spoke.

Elienor’s eyes filled with unshed tears. “You
are,” she asked, swallowing the knot that formed in her throat, “truly here?”
And he was, for his presence dominated the small
kirken
. She touched her own face, as
though to touch his, assuring herself that the moment was real.

“Aye,” he replied hoarsely. His arms ached to hold
her, but he dared not move lest she prove to be naught more than an illusion.
He was afeared to blink lest she vanish before his eyes. He tried to read her
in the dim Light but couldn’t; her emotions were hidden to him by the glare of
the sun in his eyes. Even as he determined she was real, he stood rooted to the
spot, loathing himself for all that had befallen her since taking her from
Francia, certain that she despised him for it.

Yet his eyes beckoned her.

Elienor attempted to take a step forward and
swayed weakly. She braced herself upon the door frame, and in that moment, Odin
himself couldn’t have kept Alarik from her. He moved forward swiftly to claim
her, and Elienor’s breath caught as he swept her into his arms. A low cry was
torn from his lips as his mouth brushed her brow, her nose, her mouth...