Lord of Raven's Peak - Catherine Coulter [136]
Rollo laughed, a deep booming laugh. “And you, graybeard, what of you? Making me visit you here in this filthy sod shack, making people believe you’ve nearly reached the status of a Christian’s holy man, an old ass who gives me advice by looking into the flames in this wretched fire pit? Ha, Hallad!” And he laughed again. He said then to Hallad, his voice deep and serious, “The children do not understand all of this, brother, particularly my old man’s irritation and bile. My show of an old man’s foolishness.”
“It surprised me,” Laren said, “when you behaved as though you were doddering on the edge of your brain.”
“Good,” Rollo said. “That means all others saw it and believed it as well.”
Hallad struck a thoughtful pose and said, “I wonder if he was truly playing the role?”
“I pray so, Father,” Laren said.
Merrik said to Rollo, “You are certain our villain will show himself today?”
“Aye,” Rollo said. “Aye. I have told several men of Hallad’s presence here, how he was pretending to be like a holy man and of my visit to him here today. I told them all that he sent me a message telling me that he had discovered who had killed Nirea and abducted Laren and Taby.”
“Including Weland and Otta?”
Rollo nodded, a flash of pain in his dark eyes. “Aye,” he said after a moment, “today we will know our enemy.”
“Finally,” Hallad said. “Finally.”
Helga rode beside Otta and his score of well-armed men. He’d told her that her father was still alive. He wanted her to see him for herself. Helga didn’t believe him for a moment, but Otta was a man she was considering as a new husband, despite the foolish pains in his belly that none of her potions could cure, and thus she didn’t consider it wise to flay him just yet with her tongue.
She would flatter him and show him she believed his fine tale. She could laugh at him after he was her husband.
When they drew close to the squalid dwelling, she wrinkled her nose. “You say that my father lives here? That is nonsense, Otta. My father would never soil his fingers, much less live in a sod hut like this. It is impossible.”
“Nonetheless,” Otta said, not looking at her, “it’s true. I have it from the great Rollo himself. He told me of it just this morning. Do you wish to see him or no?”
“Oh aye, but have him come outside. I have no wish to dirty myself.”
Suddenly, with no warning, Otta grabbed her arm and jerked her off her mare’s back. He hurled her to the ground. Helga lay sprawled on her side, gasping for breath, staring up at him.
“Perfidious bitch,” he said, smiling, and dismounted, standing over her. When she tried to rise, he kicked out his foot and caught her in the ribs. She yelled and fell back. “Stay there,” he said. “I like you there, on the ground, helpless for once, and silent. By the gods, at last you are silent. And you are helpless, Helga, even more helpless than Fromm was, so drunk he could barely fight back for even a moment. I have wanted to kill you for a very long time now. All of you, this entire cursed family.”
She stared up at him, then looked at his men, who were trying hard not to look at her, no expressions on their faces.
“There have been many men here, your brave uncle Rollo amongst them, but they are gone now, and the only one here will be your father, a murderer, a man who will finally be brought before the people to be judged for his crime.”
“Uncle Rollo won’t allow my father to be hurt, if he is indeed inside the hut, as you say he is.”
“I know it,” Otta said. “I know it well. Rollo hid him here. Rollo didn’t tell me as a man would another man he trusted. Nay, he has recently become older and more of a foolish old man as each hour passes. He speaks when he should hold his own counsel. He mumbles and rambles. Thus I know it is true. Hallad is here. Both of them will die soon, very