Lord of Raven's Peak - Catherine Coulter [76]
After the cheers had died away, mostly from Thoragasson’s men, Laren turned to Erik. “And what would you do, my lord?”
Erik gave her a long, lazy smile. “I would not kill the creature. I would bring it back to my longhouse and I would treat it as tenderly as I would treat a woman. It speaks, and thus I would gain its trust. It would have a mate. I would find that mate, and keep them together. Surely they would have offspring and then I would have more golden-horned creatures. Thus I would become even richer than Olaf Thoragasson.”
The cheering filled the smoke-hazed room.
Finally, Laren turned to Merrik. “And you, my lord? What would you do?”
Merrik was stroking Taby’s hair. He looked up at her as she spoke. He was silent for many moments, then shrugged and said, “I would do naught of anything so quickly. I would return to the meadow and see what the magical creature had to tell me.”
“A man of strategy,” Thoragasson said, nodding his head in approval. “Continue, girl. Tell us what happened.”
“This time Rolf did as Merrik advised. He didn’t want to react so quickly. He’d already done that and lost himself a friend and a slave of great talent, and, he suspected when the night was at its darkest, some of his honor. The following day, he returned to the meadow. He’d wondered how he would find it, but just as suddenly, he stepped through a thicket of maple trees, and there it was, the sun shining brightly down upon it, the flowers wafting out sweet scents in a light breeze. The unicorn stood on the other side of the meadow, calmly watching Rolf walk to him. He allowed Rolf to muzzle his head. He allowed Rolf to stroke his golden horn.
“Rolf said, ‘The horn is pure gold?’
“If a unicorn could smile, this one did, and it said, ‘Aye, of the purest, Rolf. Why do you ask?’
“ ‘My brothers gave me advice. They told me to either kill you and steal your golden horn or capture you and then your mate and thus have both of you and then your offspring.’
“ ‘I do not think I like your brothers,’ the unicorn said. ‘What do you wish to do, Rolf?’
“ ‘I wish to speak to you, to learn who and what you are. I have never before seen a creature like you. Who sent you?’
“ ‘It’s true I am magical,’ the unicorn said. ‘But I am also more. I am also your former slave, the one you smote with your sword.’
“Rolf stared at the creature. He drew his sword for he was certain the beast would try to kill him. He’d come back for revenge. He stood there, his sword poised in his hand, and the unicorn did nothing, didn’t gallop away from him or attempt to protect himself in any way. Rolf raised the sword, then slowly, very slowly, he lowered it, and said, ‘I cannot do it. When I killed you before, I knew such horror at myself that I came here to the forest to die. But you found me instead. Tell me what to do, for I wish to atone for taking your life. If you choose to kill me, I will make no move against you.’
“The unicorn nodded his beautiful white head, the golden horn glistening in the bright sunlight. Then, quite suddenly, he seemed to fade into nothing more than shadow and light, until Rolf knew he could see the sunlight through the creature’s body, so pale had it become. He knew terror such as he’d never known. He fell to his knees, and clasped his arms around himself, waiting to die. But then as the unicorn was disappearing, something else was coming together and gaining darkness with the light and substance with the shadows. It was the slave he had smote with his sword. He held out his hand to Rolf and lifted him up. He said, ‘The gods have granted us both another chance. Come with me, Rolf, and we will journey together back to my family, for they miss me sorely. Come.’
“Rolf’s two brothers never saw him again. They mourned him even as they believed him to have lost his wits, for surely the unicorn had killed him, and he’d trusted the beast, trusted him, and look what it had gotten him.
“But then there came a story into Vestfold told by a very old skald, toothless and scrawny, with thin bowed legs. All doubted he