Lord of Raven's Peak - Catherine Coulter [84]
He himself had led the prayers to the gods—to Odin All-Father, to Thor Redbeard, to Loki the Spirit of Evil, extolling Erik’s bravery in battle, his honor, and to Saeter the underworld god, pledging his own word that Erik didn’t belong there and so Saeter would gain nothing in this death. He begged them to accept Erik Haraldsson over the rainbow bridge and into heaven, to reward him for all eternity, to bless him in his final journey. As he’d spoken, he saw his brother’s bloodied head. He had closed his eyes, words had been beyond him. So much death, too much death. His parents and now his elder brother. Had Erik spoken the words over their parents’ bodies? Had he felt tears burning his eyes as he’d spoken? Had his voice broken and had he swallowed, trying to continue, to see all the rites and rituals done properly? Suddenly, Merrik had felt a small hand clutch his. He’d looked down to see Taby, the child’s face filled with misery because he knew something was wrong with Merrik, he just didn’t understand what it was. Merrik leaned down and picked up the child, bringing him against his chest. He kissed his warm cheek, felt the child’s thin arms clutch around his throat. No one had said anything, even Letta, even Olaf Thoragasson.
No one had said anything about Laren to him either, but he knew that all wondered what he would do. He knew that all were speaking of her and her probable guilt. But he was the master of Malverne now. It was his thoughts that counted, his commands that ruled, none other’s.
He looked down at her now. His silence had been long and she’d kept quiet. Her eyes were closed, but her hands were fisted at her sides.
“I didn’t kill him, Merrik. I didn’t. I kicked him in the groin and ran hard until I tripped and knocked myself out. Please, you must believe me.”
“I can see you flat on your back, Erik on top of you, jerking at your gown, wanting to strip you and rape you. I can see you frantic to defend yourself. I can see you picking up a rock and striking his head. I do not blame you for that, Laren. You were a fool to go up to Raven’s Peak by yourself. And now my brother is dead because his lust pushed him to rape the wrong woman.”
“What will you do?”
“I don’t know. All believe you guilty.”
“I didn’t kill him!”
“As a slave you have no rights at all. As a slave, killing a man of Erik’s status, your death would be long and painful. It would be I who would kill you.” He stopped then, staring down at her white face. He rose.
“What will you do?”
“I don’t know. But I do know I cannot allow Taby’s sister to die. He would never forgive me.”
Relief that was oddly mixed with pain at his words shot through her. Only Taby’s sister? “Why will you not believe me, Merrik?”
“Why should I? You have told me nothing since I saved your hide in Kiev. Not where you came from, not about your family, nothing. So little you’ve told me, and what I have finally pried out of you has been wrapped in mysteries and puzzles. Why should I believe you now?”
She heard a man’s shout. Merrik said sharply, “Stay here!” He was gone from the chamber in an instant, Laren behind him, holding up her torn gown.
Two of Erik’s men were holding Cleve, a third was beating him. It was Deglin who was shouting for them to kill the miserable slave.
Merrik caught one man’s wrist and jerked him away, throwing him to the ground. He kicked another man from his path.
“Let him go.”
The two men looked at Merrik, but they didn’t know him as well as they’d known his brother. His voice was low, very controlled. One of them said,