Lord of Raven's Peak - Catherine Coulter [142]
Ferlain jumped to her feet. “No! You lie! It is Merrik who now holds your favor, it is he who will—”
“Taby is alive. Merrik found both Laren and Taby at the slave market in Kiev. I would that I could have sired a son like Merrik, for he is honorable above all things. But then so is William, and it is he, Ferlain, it is William my son who will rule after me. Taby will be at his side, loyal to him and brave, his arm and his mind strong and sure.”
Ferlain said nothing. She merely stared first at Rollo, then at Laren and Merrik. She didn’t look at her father.
Finally, Rollo said, “Weland, return her to her sleeping chamber. Post two soldiers near. We will decide what is to be done with her.”
It was Helga who came to their sleeping chamber late that night. She didn’t look as young in the dim shadows. “Come quickly,” she said, shaking Merrik’s shoulder. “Come.”
Rollo and Hallad were there before them, looking down, both silent. Ferlain lay on the box bed, a soft pillow beneath her head, an exquisite embroidered robe covering her, smoothed by loving hands over her body. Her face was smooth with renewed youth in death, her eyes closed by gentle fingers. Her hair was brushed until it shone and braided very neatly, the long ropes lying over her breasts. Her arms were at her sides, palms up.
“Cardle is gone,” Rollo said to Merrik and Laren. “She has been dead for a long time.”
“How did she die?” Laren said.
“I do not know,” Rollo said. “There is no blood. Her face is without pain, without struggle. Helga came to visit her early this morning and found her thusly. The guards said she hadn’t tried to leave the chamber. Cardle left late last night. They had no reason to stop him.”
“Bury her,” Hallad said suddenly. “Leave her be and bury her now, this morning.”
Rollo slowly nodded.
“What of Cardle?” Helga said. “He killed her, he did it. What will you do, Uncle Rollo?”
“I will tell you soon,” Rollo said. “Aye, I will tell you soon.”
26
TABY WAS SITTING on the bench next to Cleve, tying a knot under his direction. There was sudden loud commotion from outside the longhouse. Taby raised his head like a young animal trained to the sound.
“Is it Laren?”
“Let us see,” Cleve said and took the boy’s hand. But he couldn’t keep up. Taby scampered away with Kenna and both boys bounded through the now wide palisade gates, through the fields now flat and dull, their barley and rye harvested, past the slaves who were mending the palisade walls with tight cord, wet and then dried three times over for added strength, and down the path to the fjord.
Taby saw Merrik, shouted at the top of his voice, and hurled himself at him. Merrik, laughing, caught the child in time and threw him high into the air, then caught him and held him tightly against his chest. Laren watched from behind him, saw him close his eyes as he buried his face against Taby’s hair. She felt the familiar bittersweet longing as she watched. Then Taby raised his head, kissed Merrik’s cheek, a loud smacking kiss that made him laugh, then saw his sister.
“Laren!” he shrieked. She was then the one to have his child’s arms around her neck, his wet kisses on her face.
“You are like a puppy, Taby,” she said, knowing tears were in her eyes and trying to swallow them back. “Stop wriggling so. Soon you will be licking my face like that massive beast Kerzog. Will you grow as big as that monster?”
The child laughed at that. All was as it should be.
“I have something to tell you,” she said to Taby and set him on the ground. “Our father is alive. Hallad came back here with us.”
The child grew very still, his eyes wary. “No, no, Laren. I don’t remember my father, Laren. Merrik is my father.”
“Oh no, sweeting. Merrik is your brother. Do you not remember? No, here is your father and my father as well.”
Hallad hung back, staring at the little boy who looked up at him, his expression suspicious.
“You are nearly six now, Taby,” Hallad said, then wondered