Lord of Raven's Peak - Catherine Coulter [78]
He said both to her and to all who were staring at them, “She is my slave. I will see to her punishment.”
Erik said, “And her punishment, brother? I wonder how severe it will be.”
“Were she stronger I would whip her. But she isn’t strong enough yet to survive it. She will cook for the next three days. Sarla, will you make her obey you when I am not present to do so?”
Sarla grinned widely at her and shook her fist. “Aye, Merrik, I will hit her with a pot if she doesn’t willingly do the cooking.”
“No insolence from you, Sarla!” Erik was flushed with anger as he strode toward his wife, his right hand a sudden fist.
“It wasn’t insolence, brother,” Merrik said, jerking Laren with him as he moved into Erik’s path. “She was simply jesting. A simple jest, nothing more.”
“Still, I won’t have her speaking to you like that.”
“If I took offense then I would tell her so. Forget it, Erik.”
“ ’Tis none of your affair, brother.” Erik paused a moment, then turned quickly, sidestepped his brother, and struck Sarla open-palmed on her face. “There,” he said, watching her struggle to keep her balance, her hand rubbing her cheek. “You will mind your tongue in the future.” He turned to Merrik. “You see how you must treat a wife. No more will I have to bear her insolence, no more.”
Merrik’s hands were fisted at his sides. Laren ran to Sarla, but Erik shoved her aside. “Keep away from her, slave. By all the gods, you push me to violence.”
There was no sound for several moments—just the sight of Sarla, tears running down her face, the men and women all still in their places, afraid to say a word. Even the children were quiet, staring at their parents, uncertain what to do.
Then Letta shrieked, “She said she would pull all my teeth out! One by one! Hit her, Merrik, she deserves it.”
Merrik easily controlled the laughter welling up inside him, laughter mixed with his absolute fury at Erik. It was a helpless fury, for he knew he couldn’t gainsay his brother in his own longhouse. He realized in that moment that he had to leave, he had to find a new home where he would be master. He turned to Letta and said, “You gave as good as you got, Letta. She is a skald. Of course she could frighten you with the imagery of her words. Hold your peace now, ’tis over.”
He turned to look at the faces of his men; at Deglin, who looked disappointed that he wasn’t whipping her right then, right there; at Old Firren who was whittling a chair post, his eyes fixed on his work; and finally at Cleve, whose face was white with the effort it cost him to keep still. Taby, thank the gods, as well as the other children, had turned away, all of them playing again, shouting and arguing, seeing nothing now. Thoragasson’s men looked uncertain, many looking in any direction if Letta wasn’t in it. He imagined they didn’t have much affection for Letta, and they much more enjoyed Laren’s stories. Merrik looked at Sarla. Her head was down, and he knew she was humiliated, crushed by her husband’s actions.
He saw that Letta would say more, and quickly added, “Until it is time for her to sweat over the fire pit, I will take her to the fields and she can work there.” He didn’t add that he would be working next to her.
Without another word, he dragged her out of the longhouse. He knew she would have willingly gone with him, but he thought an impression of reluctance, perhaps fear, on her part, would calm everyone’s ire.
The sun was bright overhead. The ground was still damp, but the sun had dried most of the mud puddles. She suddenly dug in her heels and yelled, “Stop dragging me!”
He turned and grinned down at her. “It was a good act. But now there’s no more need for it.” He released her arm and said over his shoulder, “Follow me and be quick about it.”
She moved swiftly after him. He said over his shoulder, not slowing, “Remove all of her teeth, one by one. I like that. It’s a very effective threat.”
“I thought so,” she said, skipping to come alongside him.
He was silent.
She couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I hate Erik. He is