Lord of Raven's Peak - Catherine Coulter [33]
The men were looking at each other, furtive looks that showed anger, embarrassment, uncertainty. There were murmurs.
Deglin continued quickly, “Innar became well-known for his skill in dealing at the slave market. One day he chanced to see a girl there who was bowed and thin and dressed in rags. He decided he wanted her and thus he bought her and brought her with him back to his home. He didn’t know that she was filled with evil, that she hated being a woman, that she wanted to be a man with a man’s talents and skills and a man’s genius. She tried to do the things the men did and she failed and her rage grew for she knew she was inferior.”
The talk was louder now, drowning out Deglin’s words. The men were looking toward Merrik. His face was still. He said nothing for a very long time, merely looked at Deglin thoughtfully. He raised a hand finally to quiet the men and said, “You do not wish to continue the tale as it is now going, Deglin.” His voice softened now, and Laren felt a shiver of sheer terror at the feel of it. “Tell us what became of Innar, this man who had no respect for his father.”
“Why, my lord,” Deglin said after a moment, “he changed, certainly he changed. He became his own man and thus gained respect for his sire who had given him all the gifts he now used to make himself successful. He won himself great honors and respect from the men, for he was a trader above all other traders. He killed the evil slave. He brought home much silver and became richer than ever his father had dreamed of wealth. He wed the girl his father had picked for him and he had many sons. Thus Grunlige the Dane was followed by men who did not shame his name.”
There was a long silence, broken finally by Oleg, tall and lean and menacing, who loomed over Deglin and said in a voice of disgust, “Your tale is unworthy, Deglin. I found it filled with ill-disguised venom and lies. You are like a gnat that buzzes about—you dart in to strike, then you’re off again, hiding in your cowardice of words. I would prefer to hear the girl tell us what happened to Grunlige the Dane.”
Deglin’s beautiful skald’s voice shook with anger as he said, “The girl will tell you nothing! She has not the wit nor the skill. She pretends to it, aye, but she has it not. She is a slave, nothing more, just a miserable slave. She would not dare to speak her foolishness, for I will not allow it. Do you not see it? She is evil, she brings discord. She makes us angry at each other. She has cast spells on Merrik, weakening him!”
Oleg slipped his knife from his belt. He took a step toward Deglin. There was no expression on his face, nothing to show his intent. He stopped when Merrik said, “Hold, Oleg. Again Deglin has allowed his mouth to rule the logic of his brain. Is that not true, Deglin?”
Deglin drew a deep breath, gaining control. “I have been careless. Aye, my lord, I have not heeded what I should heed. I will tell you another story, one that you will find more to your liking.”
Oleg just shook his head at Deglin, sheathed his knife, and eased himself back down on the wolfskin, crossed his legs, and said, “Come, Laren, what happened? Parma touched Selina’s arms and he felt something strange. Continue.”
She was silent, wondering what to do. The men were all looking at her expectantly. She could tell nothing from Merrik’s closed expression. Taby was drowsing in his arms, his head against Merrik’s chest. The men all nodded at her now, some telling her to begin again, aye, tell them about Parma and what Selina did to him. She continued to look back at Merrik. Finally, he nodded at her. She smiled. She rose. She opened her mouth to speak, the words brimming in her mind. She saw his arm rise but she didn’t move back quickly enough. Deglin hit her cheek hard with his