Lord of Raven's Peak - Catherine Coulter [137]
In a very soft voice, a man said, “Otta. I cannot say that I am overly surprised. Nay, I am only surprised that you would be so stupid as to tell Helga as well as all these men exactly what your plans are and why you have acted as you have. The more people to know what you think and plan, the more likely it is that you will fail. You are not a leader, Otta. You are naught but a foolish man. You will never take my place. You have failed, Otta.”
Rollo stood proud and tall, looking as strong as a warrior, armed with his knife and his sword, wearing a rich, thick bearskin like the one he had worn in his youth. His gray hair was tied back with a leather thong, no longer lying limp and grizzled about his face and shoulders. He looked a different man. He looked, Merrik realized with relief, like a man who would well teach a young boy to become a leader of men. Aye, Taby would be safe with him and with his father, Hallad.
Otta was held only a brief instant in shock. He yelled to his men, and drew his sword. “You bastard! What happened to you? Nay, I see it now, you tricked me, lied to me! Kill him! Kill them all!”
His soldiers drew their swords, ready to do Otta’s bidding, but they didn’t have a chance. Within moments, they were surrounded very suddenly by men who moved as stealthily as forest beasts. Otta froze, now silent as a tombstone, staring at the man he’d believed was nearly riddled in his brain.
“Sire,” Merrik said, striding forward. “He paid to have me killed. It is my right to challenge him.”
Suddenly, Helga leapt up from the ground, saying softly, “Father? Is that really you?”
“Aye, daughter, ’tis I. Come here.”
She ran to him, closing her arms tightly about him. “You haven’t changed,” she whispered into his neck. “You are as you were. The red of your hair is still as bright as it was. Oh, I have missed you, Father.”
“It has only been three years, Helga,” Hallad said. “I become old, aye, it is true. I have missed you, too, daughter, but your uncle tells me that you have become something of a witch, spinning riddles and mysteries for credulous ears, mixing potions to terrify people and make them afraid of you. Aye, and that damnable tower chamber, filled with the noxious smells of that swill you mix and boil. But you have enjoyed taunting poor Laren, have you not? Hinting that it was you who had her and Taby abducted? You tried to make yourself important, Helga, you made mischief and caused pain. I am not pleased with you. It wasn’t well done of you.”
“It is true, Father, and I am sorry. There was nothing else for me to do. There was Fromm and he would have killed me if I hadn’t frightened him. I learned long ago that to survive I had to have power over people, thus my magic.” She stared up at Hallad. “But how did you know all of this?”
“Your uncle told me, who else?”
“But he—” She shook her head, knowing that she hadn’t seen the truth of him.
“Come away from your men now, Otta,” Rollo said. “It is over for you. There is much you owe, to me, to Merrik, even to Hallad as well.”
Otta didn’t move. He looked from Rollo, still unwilling to see him as the man he was now and not the sniveling old fool he’d left just this morning, to Merrik, seeing clearly the cold fury in the young man’s eyes and knowing that if he fought him, Merrik would gut him as quickly as he would a fish. And Hallad, alive, truly alive, even though he hadn’t wanted to believe it, but Rollo had assured him it was true, and Otta had seen it as more proof that the old man’s mind was nearly gone,