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Val swallowed. His hands picked the jerky into feathery strips. He looked up again, his lips twisting, his
eyes hard. He took another breath. "He beat my youngest brother to death on the day before my
marriage. I let it happen." The words were torn from him. Silence followed. As though he'd explained all.
"You mean you stood by and watched?"
"No. I was away, drinking with my friends."
She felt something like remorse fill her. "On the night before your wedding. That sounds like something
young men do."
"But I knew. I knew the danger!" he hissed.
"Then& ?" She wanted him to relate the whole story.
"I came home. He was drunk. Erik was a bloody mess on the floor. My mother crouched in the corner.
My other brothers were nowhere to be found." The words poured from him now. "He was laughing and
drinking. And I could see in his eyes that he dared me to leave, that he would kill them all, one by one,
because I was not afraid of him and he had only them with which to threaten me. So I took the ax for
chopping wood it was not even a weapon, not elegant, not made for killing and I cleaved his skull."
"And freed your family "
He grunted and tossed his jerky to Pup, who sat attentively about a yard away. "My mother never spoke
to me again. My wife-to-be unplighted her troth. The jarl of our free soke completed any shame by
stripping me of the rights of first son and telling me that I might never return to Danmork. They deserted
me, all of them. And why not? I deserved their scorn. I had done what no son should do." He looked
sick.
"I think your jarl should have completed the job for you years before," Pony snapped indignantly. She
saw now how she must have hurt him when, in her own confusion, she had abandoned him after
Samhain. The realization coursed through her, leaving her wondering if it was the closest she could come
to hearing another human. That was why Harald's death had so wounded Val. Harald was an echo of his
youngest brother.
So now he would go back to Alfred to fulfill his role as hostage, even if it meant that Alfred and Osrick
would kill him. He would do it just to prove he was a loyal Dane, to make up for the fact that he had not
been loyal to a father who had not deserved loyalty. He was letting go of the raft. She could see the
water closing over his eyes.
Well, Alfred wouldn't kill him, not if she could help it. But& how much influence with Alfred would she
have after she had freed his hostage, and her baby was not his? She sighed.
"Is this what you wanted to know?" Val's voice was husky with raw emotion.
"Yes," Pony answered. But that was not the whole truth. "No. After I have heard your story, I want to
know why you are ashamed of such an act of bravery and sacrifice."
"It was an act of cowardice." Val's contradiction held the same dullness hers had held yesterday.
Pony nodded, thinking. "I know you feel that way. But Karn does not." Val looked up, squinting. "He
thinks you were 'berserkr'. Is that the right word? He thinks you were fearless in battle against a foe who
was stronger than you, not only in muscle, but because he was your father." She saw him consider what
she was saying. "He used his position of power against you while you defended the weak."
Val shook his head. "It has always been a fault of mine."
"Elbert and Asser would not think it a fault. Their God values those who defend the weak."
"They believe in forgiveness, too." Val waved his hand, dismissive.
"I believe in that more all the time," she said. "I forgive Pup that he is a carnivore. I forgive you that you
killed your father. Elbert forgives you. Karn forgives you. Guthrum must forgive you, else why would he
trust you? Can you not accept that? Can you not forgive yourself?"
He simply looked at her. She knew what he was thinking, but there had to be some way to get at him.
How could she make him confront the terrible choices his stony beliefs demanded? "If you should not
defend the weak, then you must forgive yourself Harald's death." She smoothed her cyrtle over her
thighs. "In doing your duty, you chose not to defend him. A hard lesson in loyalty, but one you must
believe in."
His shoulders sagged. "Your words are wily. But you know Harald's death cannot be forgiven."
"You cannot have it both ways!"
"Do you forgive yourself for Samhain?" he growled. "Do you forgive that you had a boy-child, instead of
the girl you wanted?"
She sucked in air. He was difficult. "Not entirely," she admitted. "Not yet. But I am trying." She touched
his shoulder. The shock of hot flesh against her palm shot through her. She willed herself not to tremble
as she mustered a smile. "Our way is hard, Valgar the Beast. Is there no comfort to be had?" And
suddenly she realized, with some surprise, that only Val could give the solace she required.
He put his arm around her and leaned his forehead against hers. She hoped he did not notice her tiny
gasp. All he said was, "Let us to Alfred, both of us, and make what way we can."
She nodded and brushed her cheek against his scratchy bearded one. "Let us to Alfred." She could not
deny the pull that had come upon her earlier, but it was a good thing that Val would go with her. What
could she expect from the future? What was her true destiny? What did the Mother demand, and what
would be the result? As she gathered up the child, and Val heaved the pack into the cart, she knew she
must think of one thing: a way to protect Val from his strange brand of honor.
Chapter Twenty-four
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