Brenna met Garrick's eyes and cringed at the icy look he gave her. She turned to go back into the hall, to hide, to run, to get far, far away from that look that hurt her worse than a physical blow. But the sound of Garrick's voice stopped her again, torturing her with his soft tone.
"Let me help you down, my love."
Brenna felt real pain choke her. He spoke her tongue, not his, so she would understand every word. He purposely flaunted Morna before her. How could he forgive her and not me? she cried inside.
"What did you say, Garrick?"
"Let me help you down, Morna," he answered in his own language.
"I knew you would come around," Morna said with great confidence. "When I learned you got rid of that Celtic witch, I knew you would be mine again."
"Did you indeed?"
Brenna could not bear to listen to any more. She ran through the hall, oblivious to Cordelia's and Heloise's calls, and stumbled out the back of the house. She wiped viciously at the tears that blurred her eyes and ran, without stopping, to the stable to get Willow.
When Garrick saw that Brenna was gone, he quickly released his hold on Morna's waist. He stared murderously at the open doorway where she had stood, still picturing her there, wanting to put his hands on her, yet knowing full well if he came that close to her, he would kill her.
"Well, help me down then, my love."
Garrick turned his fiery gaze on Morna. "What I will help you do is feel the weight of my sword!"
"Wha—what is wrong with you?"
"Never approach me on the road and follow me again, Morna! If you value your life, do not ever come near me again!"
"But—but I thought all was forgiven!" she cried. "You smiled at me. You—you did not growl a moment before when she was—" Morna gasped, her blue eyes widening. "Was your congenial mood just for her benefit?"
"Take care, Morna," he warned coldly. "I do not have the patience to endure your presence."
"Garrick, please. You must forgive me for the past. We shared a love once. Have you forgotten that?"
"Nay, I remember you vowed your love." His voice grew lower, like the calm before a storm. "And also that you turned to the first man who dangled a purse before your greedy eyes."
"I have changed, Garrick. Wealth no longer has importance to me."
"You can say that easily, now that you have what you want," he said with contempt
" 'Tis not true, Garrick. I want you. I have always wanted you."
"And I wanted you—then. Now I would sooner rot in hell than turn to you!"
"Do not say that, Garrick!" she cried.
"Begone, Morna!"
" 'Tis because of that foreign witch that you will not forgive me! What spell has she cast on you?"
"No spell. She is dead to me, as you are. Neither of you will find forgiveness in me!"
"You—"
He cut her off with a sharp whack on the rump of her horse. The animal bolted from the yard, with Morna fighting to control it yet trying to look back at the same time. Garrick turned away in disgust
That he once thought he loved that woman was inconceivable now. He had been drawn to her beauty, and proud that he would marry the most desirable wench in the county. But these were not measures of love. When he lost her, it was wounded pride that had turned him bitter, the fact that she had chosen a fat merchant over him.
Morna's only true motivation had been greed. Brenna had needed freedom and was unable to share herself. She had gone to great lengths for that freedom and to control her own life. She had used lies, deception. She vowed love as easily as Morna once did, speaking words that held no truth. Well, Brenna was welcome to her freedom, welcome to return to her land and forever leave his life.
Garrick entered the hall and suppressed some of his anger before he approached his mother. But seeing Brenna's sister so satisfied and pleased with her new life here, only added to his bitterness. Why was Brenna the only one who could not adjust?
"Where is Hugh?" Garrick asked stonily.
Heloise did not look up from her sewing. "My youngest son is here, yet I would not know this since he has forgotten the common courtesies I have tried so hard to teach him."
Garrick was duly chastened and smiled despite himself, then leaned over and kissed her on the brow. " 'Tis easy to disremember when no other Viking son shows the respect due his mother."
"A truth that breaks many a mother's heart, I'll wager. But you are half Christian, Garrick, and though few know it, I raised you differently." She put aside her sewing and looked up at him finally, a gleam twinkling in her eyes. "You seek your brother? He took the cattle to pasture."
"When?"
"Before the snow fell."
"Then he will be delayed," Garrick said with irritation. "He had goods he wanted me to trade. Did he make mention of them to you?"
"Nay, Hugh bid me tell you wait on his return. He wants to sail north with you, to hunt the great white bear before you go east."
" 'Tis too late to sail north."
Heloise clucked her tongue. "You are too eager to leave, Garrick, just like—" She stopped and he raised a brow, but she shook her head. "You know that even one fur of the white bear will make your waiting worthwhile. Are you concerned with profit, or do you just want to be gone?"
"If I leave in midsummer, I will not return this winter," he replied.
"You need not sail as far east as you did before, Garrick. Hedeby is a fine trading center."
"Bulgar is better," he returned gruffly. "I will wait only as long as it takes my ship to be readied." He started to leave, then stopped suddenly and looked about the hall.
"She is gone, Garrick," Heloise said.
He looked back at her. "Who?"
"The one you were just looking for. She ran from the hall with tears in her eyes before you entered. Why does she cry when she sees you?"
Garrick stiffened. "She does not cry! She swore she never cries!"
"Why should this upset you?"
"Because all things that she swears to are false!" he said heatedly.
"In your own stubborn opinion. I happen to believe that what Brenna claims to have occurred when she was gone is true—all of it."
"Do you indeed, mistress?" he sneered. "Then let me enlighten you. She swore she killed Cedric Borgsen, yet I have seen Cedric with my own eyes and he is very much alive."
"How did you see him?" Heloise gasped. "You crossed the fjord?"
"I did. I had to see for myself proof of what she claimed. And I did—proof of her lies."
Heloise wrinkled her brow in thought "She assumed Cedric was dead, that is all."
"You are kind, mother," Garrick said disdainfully. "Brenna does not deserve your trust."
"Would that you would trust her, Garrick, and believe in her," Heloise said with genuine sorrow. "We will lose her soon, and I for one will be sorry."
"Truly, I never had her to lose," he replied bitterly and walked away.
Chapter 44
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IN the ensuing weeks, Brenna passed her days no differently than she had before, except that she had more energy. She felt a compulsion to fill each waking moment with strenuous activity. She tried not to think of her changing body and the life it was nurturing. She tried even harder not to think of Garrick and the last time she had seen him, with Morna by his side. She wanted only to be exhausted each night when she crawled into her lonely bed.
She waited eagerly for news of Anselm's health, but none came. The warming sun quickly melted the last snow that had fallen, so the ship that would take her home must be ready to sail. Spring came and went, yet still no one came to tell her to prepare.
Finally she could wait no longer for news to come to her. She was very late in her weekly payments to Anselm, for she had dreaded going to his settlement and perhaps encountering Garrick again. The furs she owed gave her a reason to venture from her seclusion now, but it also meant that she would risk revealing her condition to Garrick's family. She chose t
o take that risk, for she had to know why she was being forgotten.
Summer brought to the land a dazzling display of color. Although spring had been beautiful when nature seemed to wake from the long winter night, summer was intoxicating. The sun warmed the skin, and heady floral scents filled the air.
The warmth had been most welcome until this day, when Brenna approached Anselm's settlement. She had thought herself most cunning by hiding her condition, which was quite obvious now, beneath her heavy cloak. But now she felt as if she had enclosed herself in an oven. She was debating whether to turn around and go home when she found herself in the yard before Anselm's house, and a young thrall had already taken Willow to the stable.
To Brenna's relief, the large hall was empty except for her aunt. "Brenna!" Linnet came forward and took her hands. " 'Tis such a pleasure to see you."
"And you, Aunt. I had hoped you would come to visit me now that the weather is much improved."
"Forgive me, child. I meant to come, but there has been so much to do here. The planting of crops, the first thorough cleaning after winter. So much to keep us all busy."
"And you helped to plant?"
"Yea, everyone helped. Anselm has many fields. Most are still being worked."
"A Viking farmer," Brenna said with sarcasm.
"He has many slaves and less fortunate kin that he must provide for. Besides, most Vikings are farmers. Surely you have learned this by now."
"Yea, or merchants like Garrick," Brenna replied in a quiet tone.
Linnet changed the subject quickly. "I see you brought your payment to Anselm, and extra 'twould appear. You have been busy too?"
Brenna nodded and set down the large bundle of furs. Sweat was pouring down her, but she did not make to remove her cloak. She could trust no one with the new secret she kept, not even her aunt.
"Did you come only to pay your debt, Brenna, or will you stay and visit a while?"
"I cannot stay, Aunt, I would know only how soon Anselm will sail. Can you tell me?"
Linnet frowned. "I do not know."
"Is he still ill?"
"Nay, what ailed him was not serious and passed quickly. He is not here."
"What do you mean, not here?" Brenna asked, her voice rising. "Did he sail without me?"
"His ship is here, Brenna. But he has sailed with Garrick and Hugh to hunt the great bears in the north."
"How could he do that now?" Brenna gasped. "He has promised to take me home!"
"And he will. 'Twas Hugh's idea to go north. Garrick was reluctant to delay his trading voyage, but since Anselm wanted this chance to hunt with both his sons as they used to in years past, Garrick agreed."
"When will they return?"
"Soon. Cordelia has reached her time, and Hugh will not want to miss the birth of his first child."
"Of course not," Brenna said caustically. "After all, he must play God and decide whether the babe should live or die."
Linnet gasped. "Merciful Lord, Brenna! What wild notions have you in your head?"
Brenna wrung her hands beneath her cloak. "I am sorry, Aunt. I have been so touchy of late. I just want to go home. I long for the days before I met Garrick, before I learned to love and hate!"
Brenna ran from the hall, tears threatening to fall once again. She also longed for the days when she never cried. It seemed now that was all she ever did.
That night Brenna was roused from sleep by a fierce pounding on her door. She was not quite awake when she crawled out of bed to answer it and so she did not think to cover herself with more than a blanket.
To Brenna's surprise, Heloise stood in the doorway, her face anxious. "I came as quickly as I could, Brenna. Cordelia is calling for you."
"Is it the baby?"
"Yea. I would not have come here, but I have never in my life helped with a birthing, and I am too old to start now. Yet I wanted to do something. This is my first grandchild!"
"I understand," Brenna said in bewilderment. She would have thought this strong woman could face any aspect of life with a smile. It was difficult to see her so distraught now.
"Her pains began this morn," Heloise continued nervously, "yet she told no one until eventide. Now she screams for you. Hurry, Brenna."
Even as she said the words, Brenna unthinkingly threw off the blanket and grabbed her cloak. It was then that Heloise saw her fully. The five months of swelling could not be mistaken.
"In the name of God, Brenna!" Heloise gasped. "Why did you not tell us you were also with child?"
It was too late to regret her carelessness, but Brenna sighed miserably nonetheless. "We will speak of it later. There is a child to be born now. Mine will not come till winter."
"Wait, Brenna." Heloise put up a hand. "This is Cordelia's first child. Mayhaps you should not go to her. 'Tis best not to know what you will also have to endure."
"I have seen birth before, milady, in the village at home. I know 'tis long and painful. Cordelia wants me to be with her. She and I have never been close, but this is the least I can do for her."
Cordelia's labor lasted through the night—long, tortuous hours which played on everyone's nerves. Heloise was especially fretful as screams from the servants' quarters drifted into the hall, cries so low and agonizing that they did not sound human.
Had she screamed so horribly the five times she gave birth? It would explain why Anselm was always so pale when she would see him afterward, as if he had endured more than she. Yet toward the end her suffering had lessened, thanks to a potion made by a loyal slave from the Far East. If only that slave had revealed her magic before she died, then Cordelia too would be ignorant of her pain and not fear any future children.
Streams of sunlight followed Brenna into the hall. She looked pitifully haggard, as if she had suffered Cordelia's pain as well. Her shift was soaked with sweat, her beautiful raven hair matted and stringy. Heloise barely recognized her.
"I did not notice that the screams have ceased. Is—is Cordelia—the child—"
"All is well, milady," Brenna said, and collapsed into Anselm's thronelike chair. Her voice was weak, her eyes dull. "You have a fine grandson and Cordelia now sleeps peacefully. My aunt and Uda are tending the child."
"A grandson! Hugh will be so pleased. And my husband, he will burst with pride!"
"More important," Brenna added bitterly, "the child is healthy. This baby will not be judged. He will live."
Heloise fell silent for a long moment, then she asked in a whisper, "You know?"
"Yea, I know. You asked me earlier why I did not tell anyone of the child I carry. This is why. I will not be forced to stay here and bear my baby in this land, where its life depends on its strength."
"I know 'tis a harsh custom, Brenna. I did not know of it myself until recently. I lost two children at birth before I had my fifth child," she said in a voice choked with memories.
"Did they die naturally?"
"I was told they did. When I learned of the custom, doubt was raised in my mind. Yet I could never bring myself to question Anselm. My third child that survived was born weak, but Anselm knew how much I wanted that baby, after losing two before it. That child lived for many years before she too died."
"I know the story, milady. I am sorry."
"I wanted to die when my daughter died," Heloise said hollowly. " 'Twould have been better if I had not known her. She was not meant to live."
"You are wrong!" Brenna snapped, overly harsh. " 'Twas cruel fate that took her from you. You must have fond memories of her. And she had the right to know life, however briefly. I cannot condone this custom. My baby will not be born here!"
"I know my husband, Brenna. He will not take you home now, at least not until after the child is born."
"In winter!"
" 'Twill have to be the following spring."
"Nay!" Brenna cried, standing up so quickly that her chair nearly toppled over. "He promised!"
"You must think of the child now. If there was a storm at
sea, you could lose it."
"I am thinking of the child!"
"Brenna, you are a strong woman. Your baby will be strong. There is no reason to fear for it."
"Can you assure me of this? Can you promise me that Garrick will not be allowed near my baby?"
" 'Tis the law here that the father must accept the child and name it. You judge Garrick harshly. I have raised him with Christian love."
"He is a Viking and he—he hates me now. He would not want my child to live."
" 'Tis his child too, Brenna. However, I will tell you this," Heloise sighed. "Garrick sails east this summer and since his journey has been delayed, he may not return before next spring."
This was the most assurance she could give Brenna.
Chapter 45
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ANSELM and Hugh returned from the north, but Garrick sailed on without stopping. Brenna had every reason to believe that he would not come home this winter. She could bear her child with peace of mind.
Heloise had predicted Anselm's reaction correctly: he refused to take Brenna home. He came to tell her himself, bringing Heloise along to translate. The meeting did not go well, for Brenna was bitter at having to spend another year in this land. However, Anselm was in an exuberant mood after seeing his first grandchild and learning he would soon have another.
He insisted Brenna return to his settlement. She refused stubbornly, taking offense at his offer.
" 'Tis for your own good," Heloise explained. "You can no longer live alone."
"I can and I will!" Brenna said hotly. "Naught has changed. I will never again be dependent on anyone!"
"You must reconsider, Brenna. You will grow bigger and more clumsy. You cannot go on as you have been."
"Nay!"
"For once, put aside your pride, girl. You have the child to think of, not just yourself anymore."
"Ah, she is as stubborn as ever," Anselm said sourly. "She would not be happy with us anyway. If only my pigheaded son were not so pigheaded, we would not have this problem!"
Heloise cleared her throat awkwardly. "Will you see reason, Brenna?"