Lord of Raven's Peak - Catherine Coulter [151]
“You never told me until now.”
“I know. It was difficult for me, but I have felt it, Laren, for a very long time.”
“Taby,” she said. “It has always been Taby you loved.”
“I will always love him, but he is a child and my brother. He is not the woman who will stand beside me until we are both dust and ashes. You are. I love you as a man loves a woman, as my father loved my mother. I have found you and never will let you forget what you are to me.” He grinned as he kissed her again. “I grow boring with my seriousness. I have nearly made you fall asleep repeating myself. Now I wish to take you to my bed and hold you and come into you and make you a part of me. I wish to hear you tell me you love me. You have said naught of affection for me since that long-ago night. It is important for a man to hear this often from his wife.”
“Aye,” she said, “it is very important. But like you, I said nothing. These are very powerful things I feel for you, Merrik. It is just that I feared that you didn’t want to hear such things from me.”
“You were wrong. Tell me again that you love me and let us go to bed.”
“I love you, Merrik. However . . . ” She paused, then grinned widely up at him. “Not just yet. I really wish to finish your tunic before I come with you.”
He looked at the tunic folded neatly beside her, lifted it and tossed it to Oleg. “Take a needle and finish this garment, Oleg. As you can see, it is another blue tunic. My wife knows but one color for me.” Oleg, who was holding Megot in the crook of his arm, stared with horror at the tunic, opened his mouth, could think of nothing to say, and closed it.
Merrik carried his wife from the huge outer chamber, the sound of his people’s laughter in his ears. He felt the bulge of her belly against his heart, the warmth of her breath against his throat.
All was well. With any luck, life would continue sweet if the gods weren’t angered, if other Vikings didn’t lust after Malverne, if illness didn’t . . . His thinking stopped. Life was fragile, fraught with chance, but now, at this moment, the sweetness of it was something he would never forget.
He said to his wife, “When will you finish the tunic? The color pleases me mightily.”
Author’s Note
ROLLO, THE FIRST duke of Normandy, was also known as Rolf the Ganger. He was such a large man that he could sit very few horses without his feet dragging the ground. Unfortunately not much is known about him. What we do know is that he and Charles III, the French king, formed an alliance in 911 at the chapel at St. Clair-sur-Epte. Rollo agreed to keep other invading Vikings at bay, thus saving Paris from further sacking, and the payment of Danegeld, a great sum of silver to bribe marauders to stay away. Charles III granted Rollo the vast rich lands that included Rouen and the surrounding countryside, land which the Vikings already occupied and controlled. Rollo lived for seventy years, turning the reins of government to his son, William Longsword, only three years before his death in 930.
I created a brother, Hallad, his brother’s son, Taby, Hallad’s daughters, Laren, Helga, and Ferlain. I made Taby very important to Rollo, because life then was as fragile as death was final and always nearby, and thus one heir wasn’t ever enough, particularly if a man wanted to create a dynasty, which Rollo did. Indeed, William the Conqueror, who conquered England in 1066, was his direct descendant.
Rollo, first duke of Normandy (derived from the word Northmen), is buried in Rouen Cathedral. His face carving shows quite a handsome fellow.