Lord of Raven's Peak - Catherine Coulter [135]
Laren said very quietly, “It is you, isn’t it?”
Merrik stared from her to the old man. “What do you mean, sweeting?”
“It is my father,” she said, pulled away from him, and walked around the fire pit to stand in front of the old man, an old man who seemed not so old now, for he was taller now and very straight.
“Aye, daughter, ’tis I.”
She sobbed softly and threw herself into his arms. “When you disappeared I couldn’t bear it. First Mother and then you.”
“I know. I know.” Hallad held her close, stroking her beautiful red hair. He looked at Merrik over her head. “I had to see her and to see you as well, Merrik Haraldsson. You are distrustful of me, as was she. Why?”
“Because we do not know as yet who was responsible for her and Taby’s abduction,” Merrik said. “I believed this to be a ruse to get us both away from the palace and relative safety. You know that Fromm was murdered? That I was attacked?”
A deep voice spoke from a dark corner of the hut. “Aye, I told him.”
They both looked up to see Rollo striding toward them, his face grim. He was no longer a querulous old man, thin graying hair brushing his shoulders. No, he looked more like the Rollo of legend, strong and decisive, a man to fear and a man to trust, the man they had first seen upon their arrival.
“Aye, I am here, Merrik, and it is no trap unless others have made it thus for their own benefit. Hallad wanted to meet you and to see his daughter again. I have told him that soon, with your aid, we will discover who killed his wife and your mother, Laren. I didn’t kill Nirea nor was I her lover, as I know you’ve been told. But Hallad was blamed for her death and I knew I couldn’t allow him to be killed for it. Thus he became an outlaw, but I couldn’t allow that to continue. Two years ago, shortly before your and Taby’s abduction, he become the old wizard who lives here, supposedly, and provides me with prophesies and advice. This abominable hut stinks, a pit of filth, I know, but Hallad only uses it to discourage any men who would come here to rob him. He lives in the monastery of St. Catherine’s. You passed it on your way here. When he is there, he is a Christian monk. It has worked well, this ruse of ours. Show yourself to your daughter, Hallad. I will see that the men stay out of here.”
Hallad set Laren aside. He pulled off the thick white wig and the heavy beard. Brilliant thick red hair freely laced with gray sprang up. The red was just the color of Laren’s. His eyes, dark as his brother Rollo’s, were vibrant with life. Standing side by side, there was a resemblance, surely, but that red hair, it was like a beacon. He was a handsome man, a man Merrik was very glad hadn’t died, and he was an old man, too, even though he had fewer years than his brother, Rollo.
Hallad seemed to guess his thoughts. “Aye, Merrik, Rollo and I both are old men. I can see it in your eyes. But we are blessed with years upon years of life.”
“You both carry the years well,” Merrik said. He turned to Rollo. “This becomes even more of a tangled skein, sire. I have men arriving shortly, Oleg leading them. I truly believed this to be a subterfuge, that whoever was responsible for attacking me and killing Fromm would try to kill us this time.”
Rollo smiled and rubbed his hands together over the orange flames. “Will your men gallop up like an invading hoard of Vikings or will they hide amongst the trees and wait for a signal?”
“They will wait for a signal.”
“Good. My men will wait outside, too, well hidden in the trees. There is only one horse outside, all the others are in the woods. We will have some mead now.”
“And wait as well?” Laren said, and hugged her father again.
“Aye,” Hallad said, kissing the top of her head. “We will wait as well.”
“Ah,” Merrik said. “You have planted seeds and watered them.”
“Aye, I am a great leader, Merrik Haraldsson. My mind and my body forged this land. You expect that I wouldn’t protect it and those I love with all the cunning I possess?”
Merrik laughed, and Hallad, to Merrik’s surprise, punched