Lord of Raven's Peak - Catherine Coulter [77]
“And his brothers wondered, even as they shook their heads in disbelief at their thoughts. Surely, they reasoned, there were many Rolfs who were tested and found worthy, but nonetheless, both wanted to question the old skald the next morning. When they went to search him out, he was gone, the men at the palisade gates said, gone with the rising of the sun, ah, but he hadn’t disappeared with the sun, but rather into it, fading and fading, becoming as gold as the brilliance of the growing dawn light until he was simply gone. The brothers looked at each other. From that day onward, neither of them ever again mentioned either their brother or the strange appearance and disappearance of the old skald and his tale of Rolf the Viking.”
Laren smiled directly at Merrik quite without realizing it. He looked at her, then down at Taby who was wide-awake, watching his sister, a frown on his small face. Taby said quite clearly, “Laren, I remember the unicorn.”
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SHE STARED AT Taby, then said, her voice as smooth as the soft hair on Merrik’s belly, “That’s because I’ve told you stories about magical creatures. I must have told you about a unicorn. Come now, sweeting, go play with Eila. See, she wants to throw the ball to you. Do play with her, Taby, it will keep her thumb out of her mouth.”
Merrik started to say something, then stopped. He watched Taby run over to the little girl who was able to hold the feather-filled leather ball in one hand, and keep the thumb of her other hand in her mouth.
Laren quickly moved away from him, not wanting his questions, at least now. Olaf Thoragasson said to her, “You brought us into your story. It is good. No skald has ever before done that. I will speak to Merrik about buying you.” Before she could say anything, before she could do naught more than shudder, he’d left her and was walking toward Merrik, rubbing his big hands together.
Letta frowned after her father. When she turned back to Laren, she said, “It has stopped raining. Merrik and I will go for a walk down to the fjord. I think I will let him kiss me. He will know what it is like to kiss an innocent virgin.”
“Ah, so you will let him practice on you, Letta?”
The girl moved quickly, whirling about, the palm of her hand cracking hard against Laren’s cheek. Laren stumbled back with the force of the blow, and Letta hit her again, this time shoving her onto the ground.
Laren knew she should accept the blows, knew indeed that she’d called them upon herself with her mocking words, but she couldn’t stop herself. She jumped to her feet and was upon Letta in an instant. She wrapped Letta’s two thick braids around her hands, winding and winding, until the girl was yelling and crying and but inches from Laren’s face.
“Listen to me, you ill-bred witch. You will not ever strike me again. If you dare, I will remove all your pretty white teeth, one by one.”
She quickly unwound the thick braid and gave Letta a shove. She fell back into Merrik’s arms. Letta saw quickly who it was who was holding her, burst into tears, and whipped around, pressing herself against him, sobbing into his chest.
Merrik looked at Laren over her head. He saw the imprint of Letta’s hand on her face, and the rage, and then he saw the instant she realized what she’d done.
Olaf Thoragasson lunged forward like an enraged bull. He saw Erik rubbing his hands together. Quickly, Merrik lifted Letta off the ground and handed her to her younger brother, the one who had so charmingly and witlessly given Laren his mother’s brooch, and not, Merrik doubted, for the wondrousness of her tale. He stepped to Laren, grabbed