(bm) Love Thy Enemy


Judith Lynn


Hard Shell Word Factory




I would like to thank Michelle Harmless and Terri Scott, 
First Readers; Mary McCall and Jackie Floyd, 
Critique Partners Excellante, 
RWA and Outreach's TWT program for their priceless input to this novel.  
I would like to thank my husband, Petter Høgset for answering a thousand questions
 and my children who would say things like, 
"She can't hear you. She's in the thirteenth century!"



© 2001, Judith Lynn
ISBN-ebook: 1-58200-620-2
ISBN-paperback: 0-7599-0336-0 
Published February 2001 by
Hard Shell Word Factory
PO Box 161
Amherst Jct. WI 54407
books@hardshell.com
http://www.hardshell.com
Cover art © 2001, Mary Z. Wolf
All rights reserved.
 
While King Haakon Haakonson, Queen Margrete and Skule Jarl actually existed and this tale is loosely based on factual historical events, all content is purely the imagination of the author. All other characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatever to anyone bearing the same name or names. These characters are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

(bm) Prologue

Norway, Spring, A.D. 1239

ANGUISHED CRIES split the quiet evening. The yellow light of flaming torches sent eerie shadows fleeing across the frozen ground and the frightened faces of the people of Ringebu as they came running. With all his years as a battle-hardened warrior, Jarl Magnus thought nothing could surprise him anymore, yet nothing could have prepared him for the calamity he met in the yard of his ancestral home.
	Magnus slowed, then stopped, his heart turning to stone as he caught sight of his son, Thor, in his second-in-command's arms, the boy's limbs dangling unnaturally as Aksel cradled him to his chest. The utter despair in Aksel's eyes struck him to the very marrow of his bones. He gathered the slight body to him and fell to one knee. With feverish hands, he searched for signs of life.
	"Thor, Thor!" he cried, gently shaking the boy. His eyes followed his hands and settled on Thor's face, his mind unwilling to accept the pallor of his son's skin and the blue of his lips for what it was.
	A low moan escaped Magnus as he rocked his little son in his arms, his face buried in the soft wool around Thor's angelic face. He caressed the cold cheek and touched the fine cape, now stiff with frozen blood, as Aksel hesitantly recounted the day's events.
	"We were coming home, the end of a good day," Aksel croaked. His wife Ingeborg came to him and grasped his hand, her face as stricken and tear-stained as the others'. He cleared his throat. "We were making good time when a rider suddenly appeared from around a curve—coming fast and out of control—headed right for us!
	"Svarten veered, lost his footing; and we slid off the road. You know what it is like—steep and treacherous!" Aksel's words pleaded for understanding. "The sled tipped. I reached to grab Thor—but too late!" The anguish in his voice could not be disguised. "When I came to, the sled lay on its side, the timbers we hauled scattered everywhere. There, beneath the rubble, lay Thor. He was...he was crushed beneath the weight of the timbers, dead!
	"There were no signs of the rider. The wretched cur ran away!"
	Magnus's blood pounded in his ears and Aksel's voice turned to a dull drone, but with Herculean effort, he forced his hurt into the darkest recesses of his heart and concentrated instead on Aksel's words. A cloak of cold rage settled over him and he welcomed the grip of blood-lust that clutched his heart. Anything was better than the crippling pain of the loss of his son. 
	"Who, Aksel?" Magnus forced his voice to remain steady. "Do you know the bastard who killed my son?"
	"'Twas Oddvar Amundsson, of Loren farm."
CRIES OF DISMAY and the clash of steel woke Tora Oddvarsdatter in the hearth house at Loren farm. She leaped from her bed but had no time to do more than pull a shift over her nakedness before the door crashed open. She pulled her belt tight around her waist with the ease of long experience and attached the heavy ring of keys that were hers to protect. 
	A large man stooped low to enter, his form silhouetted in the early morning light. Tora could not see his face, but a shiver ran through her as though a cold draft had blown down the neck of her shift.
	She kept her eyes glued to the intruder as Anna, her foster sister, clutched her arm and shrank behind her. Tora straightened her back and closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating on calming her pounding heart. This was her home. She would not be afraid. 
	Tora's father, Oddvar, stumbled from his sleeping bench at the crash of the door and crouched between the young women and the image in the doorway, dagger in hand. Alarm gripped Tora as she heard Oddvar's sharp intake of breath and saw his eyes widen in recognition of the ominous figure in the doorway. 
	The shadow stepped aside. He gestured with his left hand and armed men immediately filled the windowless dwelling. Tora and Anna backed away and plunked down hard on a bench as they stumbled up against it.
	The hulking shape advanced further into the room, and the light through the open door, plus the weak light shining through the smoke hole in the roof, allowed Tora to see him. He held himself erect, as if he commanded the whole world. His face was as chiseled stone, his mouth drawn down in cruel lines. Dark hair hung wild about his broad shoulders and blue eyes flashed hard and cold, latching onto her father.	
	"You, Amundsson, are a dead man," he menaced.
	Tora gasped at his words and her hand dropped instinctively to her key ring, as a man's hand would seek the hilt of his sword. The icy gaze fastened on her. She stared boldly back at him, refusing to be daunted despite the pounding of her heart. 
	She had seen that arrogant look before, she realized. He was Lord Ringebu, the Highland Jarl Magnus, lord of all the territory around them, including their own Loren farm. But what was such a powerful man doing here, his men armed, threatening her father?
	The jarl advanced upon Oddvar, who retreated until his back struck the wall. Oddvar glanced at the sword that hung beside him, as if calculating the time it would take to grab it and bring it around to defend himself. The dagger he held was no use against the sword pointing at his breast. 
	The jarl bared his teeth. "By all means, reach for your weapon so that I might cut your heart out here and now."
	Oddvar froze. Tora stared at him. Why didn't he defend himself? What was going on?
	"You, Amundsson, are a coward and a murderer. You have dishonored your family and have forfeited your right to live," the jarl said, his voice full of contempt.
	Oddvar remained quiet, not responding to the jarl's barbs. Do something, Father, Tora silently implored him. He looked too shocked to move. Tora could stand it no longer. She leapt to her feet, her face burning with indignation.
	"What do you mean by forcing your way in here and insulting my father in this manner? Is this how a man of honor challenges another?" she demanded, gesturing at the jarl's men. 
	In her anger, she forgot just whom she faced and advanced nose to chest with the towering brute before her. Anna called out in warning, but too late. 
	The jarl grabbed Tora's arm and twisted it behind her back, forcing her to turn and face her father at the same time. He jerked her against him and held his sword to her throat. His body heat blasted through her shift and she could smell the pungent maleness of him. When she tried to arch away, he pulled her tight against him.
	"Your father has no honor," the jarl said.
	Tora hissed at his cold, bitter words. And the stabbing pain in her arm!  She stood on her tiptoes to lessen the terrible aching then winced as the sharp blade bit into her soft skin. She blinked hard as tears filled her eyes and bit her lip to keep from crying out. 
	"This is your daughter?" asked the jarl. 
	Oddvar nodded once, his face chalk white. 
	"What say you, Amundsson, the life of your child for the life of mine?" 
	Oddvar's Adam's apple bobbed. From the stricken look on her father's face, Tora believed that the jarl might seriously mean to hurt her.
	"Such a shame that this girl-child should have more fire and boldness than her father," the jarl sneered. "You have not told her of your wickedness, hmm? Then I shall take great pleasure in doing so." 
	The sound of angry, insistent voices outside drew the jarl's attention. He jerked his head and one of his men slipped out the door. The man reappeared a moment later.
	"A priest, my lord." The man's graying head ducked back out and was replaced by the cowled figure of the visiting priest, Sira Odde. 
	"What is going on here?" the priest boomed, looking rumpled and annoyed. 
	No one spoke.
	"Who breaks God's peace?" he demanded, this time addressing the jarl.
	"Go away, priest. This is no place for a holy man." 	
	"On the contrary, it looks as if this is exactly where I am needed." Sira Odde's sharp eyes assessed the situation. "I wonder at a great lord's sword at the throat of a maid. 'Tis not worthy of your lordship to carry on so."
	"Watch your tongue, priest, lest my sword find your throat to its liking." 
	By his clipped words, Tora imagined the jarl clenched his jaw. The harder his voice became, the tighter his grip on her became. She could feel his rapid breaths and the heavy beating of his heart against her back. Her every instinct screamed danger, but she stood helpless. She kept very still, hardly daring to breathe, unwilling to provoke the seething man who held her. 
	Suddenly, the sword disappeared from her throat and she was shoved across the room toward Anna. Anna caught her and hugged her hard. 
	She clutched her sore arm as Magnus told of the death of his son in a low monotone, his voice becoming ragged at times. At the point where his man had found Thor's lifeless body, he could not continue, his agony etched in haggard lines upon his face. 
	Tora's heart broke in sorrow for both the boy and his father, despite the accusations he made toward her father. The jarl motioned his man to continue and then stood as still as stone, his face now devoid of all emotion. 
	Tora waited for her father to deny his involvement in this tragedy. He stood with bowed head, though, his face ashen. Not one protest came from his lips during the whole, horrible tale.
	"The man deserves to die," the man finished, his own face pale. He wiped pearls of sweat from his brow. 
	"The man deserves punishment," countered the priest, "and you, Jarl, deserve justice. But I would remind you that your soul is in peril if you murder this man."
	The jarl snorted.
	"If you care not for your soul, then remember your pledge and determination to bring justice to every free man in Norway. Think of your struggle alongside King Haakon to establish laws that will rule throughout this country and help to bring it stability and peace. 
	"If you kill this man, then you are no better than your enemies and present yourself to Norway as a liar and a fraud. You would take the law into your own hands, as men in this land have done for centuries. Do this and the progress you and others have made will have been for naught. Present your case to the Ting."
	Tora held her breath as the jarl shifted his gaze from her father to fix it upon the priest. Finally, he lowered his sword and sheathed it. Apparently the jarl found truth to the priest's words. 
	Oddvar slumped down onto the bench and placed his head in his hands, his dagger forgotten at his side. Tora went to him then and placed her trembling hands upon his shoulders.
	Her mind reeled. Could the jarl have spoken the truth? She looked up to find his eyes filled with loathing for the two of them. He believed it to be the truth. This time, she dropped her gaze from his. She could not meet the accusation she saw there, or the fury.
	"I will spare your worthless life today, cur, but you may not be so lucky at the Ting," the jarl ground out. "Aksel!  Take him to Ringebu and lock him up."

(bm) Chapter 1

Midsummer, 1239
	
TORA KNELT before her father, taking his big rough hands in her slender ones. His shackles clanked together, bringing a lump to her throat. This was the first time she'd been allowed to see him since his arrest five weeks earlier. They sat together in a tent at Hundorp, where the Ting was being held. She anxiously searched his face, still seeking to understand the sudden chaos in their settled lives. Her concern grew as she got a closer look at her father. He had aged since she saw him last. Graying stubble accentuated his colorless jowls and there were dark circles under his eyes.
	"Papa?" she whispered. 
	He glanced at her face, then averted his gaze. "Tora," he said and drew a deep breath. Slowly he lifted his head and met her eyes. Her stomach knotted as she saw the look of total defeat there. 
	"Tora," he began again, "I have failed you."
	"No, never! The jarl's accusations aren't true!"	
	Oddvar drew his hands away from hers and covered his face with them. "God help me, they are." 
	"But I don't understand. You would never leave an injured child!"
	"I thought 'twas but a dream, a nightmare woven by too much wine. Until Jarl Magnus held you at sword point. Tora, I swear to you, I never saw the lad. Everything was a blur—I couldn't think. Curse the wine!  I knew not that there was a boy! My God, what have I done, what have I done?" 
	Tora blinked away the sudden moisture in her eyes. How often in her seventeen years of life had she helped a drunken Oddvar to bed after riding home slumped over in his saddle? And how clearly she recalled the last time she had done so.
	She'd awoken with a start as various thumps, groans and oaths brought her from her dream world into the present. 
	"Bring him in here. Though Heaven knows he deserves the stables."
	"By Thor, he's not getting any lighter with the years!"
	"It's not that you're getting gray and bent yourself, then?"
	"Hold your tongue, woman. I'm not so old as I can't take you over my knee and teach you some respect!"
	Tora buried her head beneath the covers of her bed, but a heavy thud and another curse sent her scurrying from her bed. She glanced at an all-too-familiar scene while heading to the open hearth to build up the fire. Her father lay sprawled unconscious on the dirt floor, rumbling snores erupting from his thick throat in demand that no one ignore him. 
	Edda stood over him, her lips drawn tight in disapproval while Bjorn stretched his back and grimaced. "I hold great affection for your father, Tora," she said, "but one of these days, I'm going to leave him lie where his horse drops him."
	Tora sighed and turned to her companions, her long blond braid swinging from side to side. "It's been so long. I'd begun to believe this wouldn't happen again."
	"The eternal hope of youth..." Bjorn muttered. 
	"Come on, let's get him to bed," Tora said.
	Together the three of them tugged, pushed and hoisted Oddvar across the floor and up onto a sleeping bench. Tora eased his muddy boots off his feet. No harm seemed to come from his drink, and he was a good man at heart, a loving father, a generous friend and concerned landowner. He just had this weakness.... 
	She watched as Edda loosened the wide leather belt around her father's bulging belly and placed a folded cloth beneath his head. 
	"You're a real mess this time." Edda rubbed a cloth over Oddvar's dirty face and hands. "Fool. One day, you'll bring the wrath of the gods, both Christian and Norse, upon all of us."
	Or the wrath of a blood-thirsty jarl.
	Tora shivered beside her father in the warm tent at Hundorp. Only the priest's intervention had saved them from having their throats cut and their life's blood spilled into the dirt floor beneath her feet at Loren farm that fateful day. She pulled Oddvar's hands from his face and looked into grieving blue eyes, so like her own. She couldn't stand to see her father so forlorn.
	"Everything will be all right, Papa, it will! You will tell them it was an accident, how sorry you are, how sorry we all are!"
	Oddvar squeezed her hands hard, his voice suddenly harsh. "Listen to me, Tora. All will not be well. 'Tis time you faced that fact. I have killed the jarl's only child! He has no wife and now no heir. I could not appease him. He will demand everything—our land, our belongings. He might cast us off to become landless beggars." Oddvar caught Tora by her shoulders and stared into her eyes. "He might demand my life!"

TORA CUT A swath where she walked through tall whispering grasses. She zigzagged around campsites, one person and another calling out to her in passing. Tora imagined everyone knew of her father's disgrace, but she forced her chin up, glad that twilight masked her inner turmoil from curious eyes. 
	People gathered from far and near to attend the summer Ting at Hundorp in Gudbrandsdale on the slopes of the River Logan. Many brought their families, and some of the women earned coins or goods for cooking for the single men. They slept under the open sky and enjoyed their respite from the tediousness of everyday life. 
	There was no rest for Tora. The cheerful atmosphere only made her more restless as she waited for the jarl's complaint to be put before the elected council and a ruling made. This was the law of free men. Each voice could be heard and, usually, justice prevailed. However, if a man held great wealth, was a great warrior or noble, his voice would speak louder than other's. 
	Tora groaned. Jarl Magnus was all three.
	Midsummer's night was upon them, and people gathered in the soft light of the endless day to drink, laugh and dance together. Blazing bonfires lent warmth to the mountain air, smoke drifted with the sound of flutes and drums as couples joined in reels. Tora stood on the outskirts, watching, but not seeing.
	"Tora, come dance with me!"
	Arne Finnsson came out of the dusk, his fresh clean face smiling at her. Tora mustered a smile for her betrothed. "I cannot dance, Arne, 'twould not be right."
	"Tora, you must not be so glum. Dancing will lift your spirits. Only then can you be of any comfort to your father." Without waiting for a reply, Arne grabbed Tora's hand and pulled her out into the crowd.
	Dancing was a poor idea. Her heart was too heavy to lighten. "We must stop, Arne, please!" But Arne disappeared as partners changed. As she stepped and turned to the music, Tora caught the disapproving looks from matrons and men alike.
	"Have you no shame, girl?" one whirling partner bit out before releasing her to move on in the dance.
	Arne's mother caught her by the arm and drew her aside. "Get away, Tora, before you bring misery upon us all! What will the council think if they spy you dancing merrily while your father is in grave trouble? They'll think you mock the seriousness of his offense, that you take your situation with careless ease. You do not help your father, thus, Tora."
	Horrified, Tora tore away from Arne's mother, stumbling over her feet as she fled the dance. She slowed only when she reached the dusky perimeter of the camp and bent over to gulp in air, her stomach churning. 
	"My son lies newly buried, your father awaits my vengeance, and you delight in a dance."
	Tora straightened with a jerk, turning to find Lord Magnus glowering at her. He placed a large warm hand on the nape of her neck and brought her close to him, so close that Tora could see each dark whisker on his bold chin and the crowfeet at the corners of his blazing blue eyes as he gazed down at her. He hid none of his contempt from her, and she knew it would be useless to try to explain. 
	"Let me go." She made to move away from him, but his hand tightened on her neck, holding her captive.
	"What kind of woman could be so callous?"
	His hand on her naked skin made it difficult to concentrate. Her pulse raced as she imagined the strength in that hand and the ease in which the towering man before her could snap her neck in two.
	"It was a mistake," she managed to say. "Why would you not reach an agreement with my father and settle this matter? Why do you torment us so?"
	"Torment you? Stupid, little fool. My life has been hell since...You think you are tormented? Your misery has only just begun!" He bit out the words with such enmity that Tora trembled. 
	"What is it you want from us? What do you seek from my father?" she whispered. She searched his face for answers. 
	He gave no answer. Abruptly the warmth of his hand vanished from her nape, and he turned on his heel to go. Over his shoulder he called, "Sleep well, Tora Oddvarsdatter, on this, your last night of delight."

MAGNUS STOOD before the council on the fourth day of the Ting, dressed in his finest kirtle and hose. A large ruby rested against his chest and another gem gleamed upon his ring finger. He took grim satisfaction in the way the pale man across from him twisted his hat in his shackled hands. His anticipation was great. By the end of the day, Oddvar would be on his knees, begging for mercy. Magnus turned to face the council.
	"My good men," he began, "I have come to seek retribution for a most heinous injustice against my household." 
	The crowd fell silent, waiting in anticipation for the drama that would unfold before them. As a cold ball of hate turned in his gut, Magnus described the killing of his son, calling the crime 'murder' and an avoidable tragedy. 
	"I lay all blame at the feet of Oddvar Amundsson, Master of Loren. I seek justice and retribution. This man must make good my loss." 
	Head Counsel Brann asked Oddvar if he would speak on his own behalf.
	"No, sir, the brunt of his lordship's words are true. I wish the terrible deed undone. I have tried to make retribution to Lord Ringebu, but he has denied me this. I have offered him both money and land, but he has turned me away. I know not what he seeks." Oddvar's uncertain gaze darted from the council to Jarl Magnus and back again.
	"What say you, my lord? What retribution is it that you seek?"
	"I am a rich man," Magnus answered. "I have wealth and lands beyond counting. I have power and my word is heeded. Everyone here knows of my deeds for the king, both here and abroad. And this man, in a single instant, robbed me of the most important thing in a man's life—my son, and my heir. 
	"The last of the great line of Ringebu, which for generations has guarded and protected the people of this region. Oddvar's money means naught to me. His lands mean nothing to me. My son..." Magnus paused. 
	"I would..." he began again, turning to regard only one—Tora. After her blatant disregard last night of the gravity of her father's offense, he wanted to see her reaction to his next words firsthand. She stared back at him, waiting, her golden hair flowing like a veil around her pale stiff face. One trembling hand clutched at her bosom, but she did not falter or faint. "...see him dead, dead at the point of my sword!"
	"No!" Tora rushed past the council to throw herself at him. He caught her fisted hands and shoved her to Aksel who caught and subdued her.
	"Ancient law would have me slaughter the whole family, but I am a modern man and will settle for one life for my son."
	Tora appealed to the council. "You must not let him kill my father! This isn't right." The councilmen gave her no notice. 
	"We shall hear your voices, yea or nay," Brann ordered the councilmen. "Shall Oddvar Amundsson of Loren farm forfeit his life for his role in the death of the heir to Ringebu? Sven?"
	"Yea."
	"Torvald?"
	"Yea."
	The world spun and a strange buzzing in her ears nearly drowned out the councilmen's voices as one after another voted in favor of her father's execution. The hammer fell, jarring Tora out of her stupor.
	Brann silenced the crowd with another thud of his mallet. "The council is unanimous. But you will not kill him yourself, Magnus. We will follow the law. Have your men take the prisoner to the block and fetch Grim. There's work for him."
	Tora broke away from Aksel and ran to Brann. "No! It cannot be! Spare him!" 
	Oddvar was already being led away, the crowd preparing to follow. Frantic, Tora jerked on Brann's arm, forcing him to pay attention to her. "You know my father! He is a good man. This was a terrible accident, not murder."
	"The jarl is left without an heir, Tora. It is just. One life for another." Brann removed her hand from his arm and proceeded to leave. "Would you rather it be you, a child for a child?"
	One life for another. A child for a child. You...you...me. 
	A desperate thought raced through Tora. "Wait! The jarl demands one life for his son's! But why must that mean the death of someone else?" 
	She hurried from Brann to Magnus, jogging at his side as he strode to the execution place. Oddvar stumbled in front of them. She allowed herself no time to consider the consequences of her next words. "My lord, you would have a life for your son's. Must it be my father's? Instead of taking a life in payment, could you not be given one instead?"
	Magnus stopped and stared at her, shaking his head. "Do you mean I should make your father my property, my slave? That would not avenge Thor." He made to leave, but she caught his arm and held tight to his sleeve.
	"Not him...me."
	An indolent gaze slipped over her bosom past her waist to pause on her curving hips before meeting her gaze once more. Magnus stared at her through hooded eyes, the nostrils of his straight aristocratic nose flaring as he moved closer to her. Tora forced herself not to move. He didn't touch her, but stood face to face so near that she felt his heat and smelled his raw masculine scent. "You want me to take you instead of your father, to be my slave...or my whore?"
	The crowd had gathered around them, and at these words waves of discussion broke out.
	"No!" cried Oddvar. "Tora, stay out of this." He turned to the council. "Brann, my daughter is innocent of my sin! You must not listen to her. Do not let her sacrifice herself for my sake." He shook himself loose from his captors and shuffled over to Brann. "Would you make a whore of my unsullied daughter? Her life would be ruined. No one would take her to wife if you allow such a thing to occur!"
	"Calm yourself, Oddvar." Brann said. "I could not allow this. As you say, 'twould be wrong of any man to make a woman whore." 
	"This whole discussion is foolish," Magnus bit out. "I do not want the woman. My grievance is with her father."
	Tora thrust herself between the three men, her impatience as they ignored her growing leaps and bounds. "I do not speak of slavery or whoring." She thrust her chin in the air and turned to Magnus. "Lord Ringebu if you would allow me to speak to you in private..."
	"No, Bryn!" Oddvar said. "I demand you remain here." 
	Magnus looked at Oddvar a moment, then caught Tora by the arm and hauled her away from the others. He bent over her, peering intently into her face. "Speak your piece. I want your father dead before midday."
	Tora swallowed her ire and kept her balled fists at her sides. She spoke through gritted teeth. "You demand one life for another. I propose to give you a son in Thor's place. A son of your own, if you will let my father live."

(bm) Chapter 2

TORA HAD acted on impulse, the idea of bearing a child for Magnus and saving her father from execution coming in a flash as her frantic mind scrambled to find a way to prevent her father's death. She had blurted it out without forethought and, in front of the fierce man before her, her soul trembled with the impetus of her words. That he laughed at her didn't help. There was no joy in the sound, just mocking disbelief. Magnus glanced about him, noted the crowd's curious stares and dragged Tora into a vacant tent. 
	The tent was small and Magnus seemed to fill every square inch of it. Tora backed away as far as she could, but he reached for her, grabbing her arms with his strong lean hands. His expression was hard to read, but his eyes burned with suspicion.
	"Tell me why I should even consider such an outlandish idea. After all, the child you would present me would have the tainted blood of your treacherous father. Why would I condone that?"
	Tora trembled in his arms, heat flowing from his hands to the tips of her fingers and toes, and more disturbing, to her womb. His steel embrace made it difficult to think clearly. When she tried to step back, he tightened his hold on her. His icy blue gaze held her mesmerized, delved into her soul, and Tora knew he would recognize a lie. 
	"My...my father is a good man; you know that, my lord. He owns a prosperous farm and manages it and its people with wisdom and..." Tora broke off, seeing this argument was getting her nowhere. Magnus stood as stiffly and unmoved as ever. Then the words of the priest Sira Odde came to her and she recalled Magnus's commitment to King Haakon and the mending of a wounded land. She drew a deep breath and exhaled.
	"As you said, it is your right to slay all the folk of Loren. And in the same breath you claim to be a modern man, loyal to our king and committed to—" 
	He was rubbing his thumbs along the soft flesh of her inner arms, distracting her. 
	She swallowed hard and stared at the golden chain upon his chest. "—to bring stability and peace to this land. What better way to convince your people that the old ways are gone than to demonstrate it yourself? Reach out to your enemy, my lord, and—"
	"And embrace him?" Magnus arched a mocking brow at her. "You demonstrated pride and courage that day I sought your father at Loren, Tora. I admire courage." Magnus pushed a knuckle under her chin and lifted her face to his. His lips curved in a slight smile at the memory. "You were like a she-bear protecting her cubs, so fierce and undaunted." He narrowed his eyes at her, the smile gone. "Now you would protect your foolish father again. Despite his guilt, despite the power of the Ting, you fight to save him. Such loyalty is commendable."
	His muscled arm slid around her waist, pulling her close. Panic filled her at the strength of his torso, the heat of his corded thighs against hers and the steel band of his arm that gathered her to him. Tora pressed her hands against his chest, but could not budge. His voice was a deep rumble in her ear as he bent his head to her, and she quivered. "You said you did not speak of servitude or whoredom, but that is what you would be, Tora, should I accept your radical offer. The possession of the Highland Jarl." 
	One large hand wrapped itself in her braid as the other fanned her back, a thumb rubbing delicately along her spine. Tora's breath came in rapid gulps and her blood raced hotly as Magnus pressed her firmly to him.
	"No," she breathed in protest.
	"Yes," he answered, his mouth covering hers. 
	His lips were warm and firm, gentle at first, but quickly became more demanding. 
	Tora pressed her hands with all her might against his broad chest but found to her dismay that the more she struggled to get away, the closer Magnus molded her to him. She could feel the hardness of his manhood pressed into her soft belly, the unrelenting strength of him. Never had she felt so aware of a man, of her feminine vulnerability. She opened her lips to catch her breath, and he took the opportunity to plunge his tongue deep into her mouth, claiming her. 
	His kiss sent shock waves through the very core of her. Her response was primitive and instinctual, and its ferocity stunned her. Like molten lead, her blood coursed through her veins as stabs of pleasure shot from her breasts to her loins. Tentatively at first, and then giving way to the rising fever within her, she responded to his demand with passion.
	Magnus released her mouth to plant searing kisses on her chin, her throat and then roamed downwards to kiss the naked flesh between her breasts. "God, you are sweet," he murmured, his own breathing ragged and warm against her. 
	Tora trembled in every limb and fought against a deep yearning to have him caress her even more. Suddenly, he loosened his hold on her, but would not let her escape his encircling arms. She clutched his tunic to keep from falling to her knees. Magnus had somehow gained possession of her muscles, rending her incapable of commanding them. Heat flamed in her cheeks as she stood paralyzed like a doe facing the hunter who knows the prey is his. She dropped her gaze at the desire she met in his eyes.
	"Perhaps this insane idea of yours would not be so unpleasant. I would have to live knowing your dog of a father still walked this earth, but there might be sweet revenge in taking his daughter as my whore." He shushed her when she began to protest. "You are young, desirable." His hands dropped to her hips, caressed the fullness of her buttocks. "It appears you could bear my child with ease." 
	His words and touch offended Tora, but she concentrated on her father and held her tongue. If she could save her father...Long lean hands slid up to grasp her waist and she sucked in a tight breath. 
	"My decision of your father's fate may be of more import than I first thought."
	He stepped away from her, depriving her of his heat. He moved to the tent opening and stared out, his broad back to her. 
	Tora wrapped her arms around her waist and waited. She could discern nothing from his solid stance.
	"You are shrewd, for a woman," he remarked turning back to her. He reached for her, bringing her close with one hand and letting the other cup the weight of her breast before sliding over her flat stomach and around to grab her bottom. His words cut off her indignation at his liberties. "Perhaps I will do as you suggest."
	Tora slumped with relief, and Magnus took the opportunity to embrace her once more. But as he lowered his mouth to hers, his next words turned her to chilling stone.
	"Be not mistaken, woman, you will be nothing more than a brood mare to me, a slave, my whore—until you bear me a son and I cast you out."

"I WILL ACCEPT Tora's proposal to bear my child."	
	The councilmen whispered amongst themselves. Magnus became aware of the debate that had sprung up around him. He could hear vehement arguments on both sides. 
	Yes, Oddvar's daughter should bear the jarl a son to replace the heir he had killed. No, an innocent woman should not have to make retribution for her father's evil. He also heard coarse words about his right to take matters into his own hands and slaughter the whole household.
	Brann banged his mallet on the bench before him and called for order. "Justice would be served if Oddvar's daughter were to bear you a son, my lord." Brann held up his hand when voices rose in anger.
	"I beg of you! Do not condemn Tora for the mistakes of her father," Oddvar shouted. "She is promised to another. She will be the worthy mistress of a great farm."   
	"She is betrothed?" Brann asked Oddvar. At his nod, Brann turned to Magnus. "A promise of marriage is a serious thing and not to be idly dismissed. Also, the daughter is without sin in this case. To make her your whore and destroy any future she may have of becoming a respectable wife is not just."
	What? Magnus had not expected the council to take this stand. He wanted to break Oddvar, to inflict upon him the unrelenting agony of a child lost, as Oddvar had done to him. He never imagined that the council would protect the maid. Did they not see the justice of his demand? His anger mounted. 
	"'Tis this council's ruling," Brann continued, "that if Oddvar's daughter is to bear you an heir, Lord Ringebu, then you must wed her in the holy sight of God and man."
	"Ridiculous!" Magnus thundered. "This is an outrage!" He had in mind the greatest humiliation he could bequeath on Oddvar and Tora. He would use her as a thrall, a whore to warm his bed till her belly swelled and she bore him a son—not honor her as his wife!
	Across from him, a gentleman stood up.	
	The council acknowledged the stranger. "Rune Pederson, Warden of Aker, we are honored by your presence." 
	The warden bowed, jewels and chains clinking as he straightened. "My good men," he began. His arms spread wide in supplication and his aristocratic face displayed only congeniality and a sincere desire to see that fair play was done. Magnus wondered what the rascal was up to.
	"'Tis commendable you would protect a young woman's honor. But by marrying this woman to the jarl, no retribution takes place. On the contrary. This man, who has killed the jarl's only heir, would align himself with a most powerful family. His own reputation, power and fortune would be doubled, nay, increased ten fold. I ask you, what justice is this?"
	"There is none. It is absurd!" Magnus called out, his wrath ringing clear in his voice.
	The councilmen hunched together in a confidential group.
	"And what would you propose, Warden?" Brann inquired a few minutes later.
	"I would propose this." Pedersen paused, and Magnus was sure it was for effect. Every face trained on him, waiting. "If the jarl must marry the girl, let a time limit be set in which she shall bear him a son. The jarl will be free to divorce her then and will no longer be responsible for her. All ties between the two families will be cut. Loren and all Oddvar's possessions will remain in the jarl's hands from this day forth." 
	Wed the daughter of the man who stole Thor from him? The idea was anathema to Magnus. But a voracious need gnawed his gut to strike out and do grievous harm to Oddvar. What better than for the man to know that his daughter suffered daily by his hand? If that could only be done through a Christian marriage, so what? He had no taste for the Pope or his sacraments. 'Twas the old warring gods that suited his battered warrior's heart better. And 'twould be a temporary union—in the end he would be rid of them both. He would end up with a son and all of Loren, or....
	"What happens if no son is born?" he asked. Across from him where she stood beside Oddvar, Tora's head jerked up and she stared at him with large frightened eyes. Magnus held her gaze while he waited for Pederson's answer.
	"Oddvar forfeit his life, as was determined right and just this day."
	Tora gasped, but Magnus ignored her reaction. "To make me wed this woman is a farce. 'Tis not to my liking."
	"Perhaps I should remind Lord Ringebu of his commitment to the Ting and his own admittance to its power over all those in Norway," the warden said.
	"Bah! You would put my honor at stake, you rascal," Magnus answered. He would have time to pair with other women, if no child came of his union with Tora. Oddvar would have to live with the humiliation that his daughter saved him from an ignoble death and that she spread her legs for a vengeful man who would see him dead. Oddvar lost everything, his land, his belongings, his precious daughter, and perhaps, his life. And Magnus would have a son, or the satisfaction of Oddvar's blood upon his sword. Justice to Thor would be served. "What time limit would be set?" 
	The council again conferred amongst itself. "Two years," they answered. 
	A child's excited voice rang out and Magnus turned to watch a boy chase another across the field. They tumbled into the grass together, shrieks of laughter filling the air. Magnus's heart constricted painfully and for a moment he stared at the sky to control the sob that lodged in his throat. He blinked back the sudden moisture in his eyes and hardened his heart.
	"I will agree to these terms."
	Oddvar stood white-faced and tight-lipped as the councilman repeated the terms and the ruling was made. When asked if he understood this ruling, he gave a terse nod. The crowd broke up into excited groups as it rehashed the sight of a noble bending to the ruling of the Ting. 
	Magnus approached Oddvar and Tora. The curious outcome of his demand for retribution denied him the satisfaction he had expected to feel at crushing Oddvar beneath his heel. "A child for a child, cur. Pray that you do not receive word of your daughter's death as I did my son's!"

(bm) Chapter 3
Loren
	
"I THOUGHT I might find you here." 
	Tora turned in surprise and watched in silence as Anna carefully pulled herself up onto the outcropping and sat beside her. She was glad to see her foster sister. Unable to face Lord Ringebu after the council declared she must marry him, she had assured her father's return to his men and fled home as fast as her horse could carry her. Now she waited with anxious heart for Oddvar's return.
	"My mother has seen to it that you have learned all the skills and duties that a woman who would one day manage a great farm needs to know, yet there is a wild side to you that makes you seek the woods. Sometimes I think it would be easier to tame the wind than make a gentlewoman of you."
	"I cannot help that I feel best when I am in the forest, Anna. The happiest times of my life have taken place here." She sighed as she remembered the occasions when her father had taken her on hunting trips. He had fashioned for her an ash bow and had whittled her fine arrows with the black and blue feathers of a magpie fastened to the ends. Her heavy heart lightened as she remembered how proud her father had been when she had stalked and killed her first doe.
	She was the center of Oddvar's world. He'd lost his wife, and she a mother, at her birth. He'd married again, but had buried both his second wife and their three children after a pestilence swept the countryside and claimed their lives. After that, he'd focused his attention on Tora, and she had received all the warmth and love he could give her. 
	Now she could repay him for all he had done for her. No matter how unhappy, how hesitant she was about her coming association with the jarl, she must remember this. I've  spared his life—for at least two years, she thought, a tremor coursing through her. 
	Anna's voice broke into her thoughts. "Any sign of them, yet?"
	Tora shook her head, a sense of foreboding settling upon her. 
	"'Twill rain soon, Tora. Let us go back."
	"I want to stay a little longer. But go, if you will." 
	Images of the jarl flashed before her, his fierce, angry face and the lust for revenge in his eyes. She closed her eyes tight, trying to block out the vision and clenched her fists in her lap. "You're not some weak, sniffling woman who cowers at every problem life tosses her way," she chided herself. She was used to tackling things head on, facing them squarely and dealing with them. And she swore to herself she would continue to do so. 
	Rain fell steadily when she finally caught sight of the armored party winding slowly through the valley below her. Despite her vow to be brave, her heart skipped a beat. The group was much larger than the one that had followed her father to Hundorp. She narrowed her eyes to see the banners flying. The jarl's colors! With a terrible sinking feeling in her heart, Tora knew her life would never be the same again.

TORA BURST THROUGH the door at Loren. Water dripped from the hem of her cloak, forming a puddle at her soggy feet. With one hand she swept the cowl from her head. Tora raised her chin high.
	She unclasped the silver ring-brooch that held her cloak tight about her throat and then instead of hanging it on a peg, clutched the garment to her chest as she scanned the room, seeking out her father. He sat close to the hearth in the middle of the Hall. 
	Pretending to ignore all those around her including, Jarl Magnus, she went to his side. She was acutely aware, however, of the varied expressions gazing at her. Some appeared amused, others angered, and others regarded her with open disdain.
	Her concern grew as she got a closer look at her father. "Papa?" she whispered. 
	With great effort, as if the hand of guilt forced his head down, he met her eyes. "Tora."
	Her stomach knotted. 
	"Tora," he began again, "my child."
	"Papa, look not so forlorn! You should be glad! You are free and alive. All will be well, I promise!" she cried. 
	"But you have sacrificed your life for mine!"
	"Enough of these dramatics!" Lord Magnus broke in. His eyes flashed with anger and impatience.
	Tora stared at him. Dread of him turned to fury. How she wished she could pummel the look of insolent contempt from his granite features. Then the full impact of her actions at the Ting sank in, causing the blood to drain from her face. She would lie with this stranger, let him perform the utmost intimacies with her, knowing that he disdained her and despised her father. Suddenly sick and faint, she strove to hide it from the strangers around her. She drew one shaky breath and then another. Her back ramrod straight, she faced Magnus, her hands balled at her sides. 
	"This is a mistake. There is no way on earth I will marry you," she said in a low, tremulous voice that none the less reached every person in the quiet room. "Marriage to you would be a never-ending torment." 
	Tora turned on her heel and nearly ran for the door. Blinded by outrage, she stumbled into people and slapped away hands that would stop her. She ignored their calls and fled outside. 
	She'd dropped her cloak, and rain still fell. She paused for a moment to dash away two traitorous tears with the back of her hand, then turned to the forest. Her feet flew on the path.
	Her blood pounded in her ears; her breaths came in painful gulps. This was all a nightmare! Her father had promised her to Arne. She couldn't give herself to such a cold-hearted, arrogant man as Magnus. Her dreams of being matron of Loren and Toverud, with her sweet Arne by her side, disintegrated like puffs of smoke in a breeze.
	Suddenly, she found herself on the ground, the wind knocked out of her, and her heated face in the cool wet grass of the path. A great weight pressed her down and she found she couldn't move. A moment passed before she realized someone was on top of her. Before she could act, the weight shifted and she was roughly rolled over. She found herself staring up into the ruthless blue eyes of Magnus.
	He glowered down at her. She glared back and struggled against him. 
	"Get off me! You've ruined everything!" 
	She balled her fist and struck out. With blessed gratification it hit its mark. The jarl grunted and, to her dismay, settled his considerable weight upon her. She lost control of her arms as he caught both of her wrists in one iron grip and stretched them above her head. Kicking him was impossible; his strong legs kept her pinned helplessly against the soggy ground. She bit her lip to keep from whimpering as he increased the pressure on her wrists.
	"Be still, foolish girl," he growled. 
	Panting, Tora complied; she had little choice in the matter. Her chest heaved from exertion. In her struggle to be freed, the tie to her loose blouse had come undone and now one whole shoulder and the better part of one breast showed. 
	Magnus grew still, his gaze upon her naked flesh. He looked into her face and Tora gasped at the smoldering desire burning in his eyes. Her awareness of his masculinity, of the way his rock hard thigh pressed between her legs, of his latent strength held barely in check awoke. Intense heat flared up between them and an unfamiliar tightening deep within her belly shocked her. Cheeks flaming, she dropped her eyes from his, hiding her own reaction under long blond eyelashes.
	Magnus made a sound deep in his throat and rolled off Tora. He didn't know who he was more disgusted with—her or himself. The revenge he'd sought became increasingly complicated with each passing moment. 
	Thor's hammer! He'd certainly had no intention of wedding her, but the temporary conditions of their union made it bearable. But married or no, he meant to keep Tora at an emotional distance, to never let her think that being his wife meant anything other than a formality forced upon him by the Ting.
	Thus, the uncontrollable fire she'd ignited within him as she struggled beneath him both surprised and irritated him. Surprised him because never before had he felt such intense arousal, annoyed him that it should be the daughter of his son's killer who had the power to make him feel so.
	Magnus rubbed his tender jaw. He kept a hold of one of her wrists. At least she has spirit, he thought grudgingly. 
	"Sit up," he barked at her. 
	Tora scurried up, anxious to avoid the jarl's searing touch. With her free hand, she pulled her blouse up on her shoulder, then clutched the bodice tightly to her chest. How was she going to tie it? 
	With an impatient snort, the jarl pushed her hand away, then deftly drew the blouse's strings tight and tied them properly. She blushed again at such an intimate gesture. Her jaw clenched as he caught hold of her wrist once more.
	Tora took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. She could still feel where his fingers had lightly brushed her skin as he'd tied the bow. The warmth of his hand on her wrist did strange things to her, too. She desperately hoped he could not feel her rapid pulse through his fingers. She stole a look at his face, relieved to see that his lust had cooled. He watched her, too, and put a hand up to silence her as she opened her mouth to speak.
	"It would be wise of you to sit here quietly and listen to what I have to say," he said.
	"Just who do you think ...ouch!" she yelped, as the pressure on her wrist made her wince.
	"Be still, I said. The rumors I have heard lately of a willful, wild girl who lacks respect for her elders appear to be true. Well, we'll just have to see about taming you. It could prove to be quite...diverting."  
	Tora grew hot as the jarl's gaze again dropped to her bodice. Was he going to ravish her here and now? The smile he gave her lacked mirth and she shuddered. 
	"Are you afraid of me, then? You have good reason to be," he said. 
	"I am not afraid of you!" she declared. "I'm just cold." The excuse sounded lame even to her ears. In fact, she had never felt warmer in her life and his close proximity wasn't helping matters, either. The rain had stopped falling, and the sun shone, spreading its warmth around them, proving her a liar.
	The jarl laughed genuinely then, and she gawked at the transformation that took place in his face. Gone were the hard lines along his mouth and brow, his curving lips displaying strong, white teeth. His eyes sparkled like the stars in a midnight blue sky. 
	He is truly handsome, she caught herself thinking. You idiot. He has destroyed your father. How can you even think such a thing!
	"You are a terrible liar," he said, chucking her under the chin. 
	She purposely scowled and averted her face.
	"And you blush easily. You may be a more interesting package to open than I anticipated," he murmured.
	At that, she glared genuinely at him. "I am not a package to be unwrapped, and certainly not by you!" 
	"Ah, but you are. You are my package and me thinks I will unwrap you slowly, one layer at a time till you lie beneath me, vulnerable and exposed. And you will like it." 
	Tora wanted to be offended by his arrogant words but the gleam in his eyes and a spreading warmth in her belly distracted her. What was he doing to her? What was he going to do to her? 
	Her uncertainty must have shown in her eyes because Jarl Magnus sobered.
	"It is useless for you to fight me. Your rash words of backing out of this will be ignored. If you defy the ruling of the Ting, your father will die. You will be cast off this farm with nothing. You will live in poverty, a vagabond. No man of any standing will have you without a dowry or land to bring to a marriage. You will have to seek charity from the church or become someone's servant."
	Tora closed her eyes. The jarl released her wrist and she sat with her head down, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. Sick at heart, she drew a shallow, tremulous breath. Her thoughts had caught on the word "charity". She would rather die than beg. And she certainly wasn't made to take orders from others. He interrupted her speculations.
	"Your father killed my son. No one can replace my beloved Thor, but you will bear me a new heir. And although Loren now belongs to me, if you bear me a son, you may be reunited here with your father. You and I will divorce. You may then live your life as you would. Until then, you shall live as my wife."
	Magnus caught her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. "I warn you, Tora, I will tolerate no defiance, nor will I coddle you as your father has done. In the end, you may even be grateful for the gentlewoman I will have taught you to be."
	At these words, anger rose in Tora, bitter as bile. He was the most arrogant man she had ever met! She vowed to defy him in every way she could.


SUPPER IN THE hall was a strained painful ordeal. Oddvar's men had been sent to the hearth house to eat and most of the women had chosen to go with them. Anna and Edda served the food and kept the men's cups full of mead. Tora would rather have helped them, but the jarl had pulled her down beside him with a decisiveness that brooked no argument. 
	She fumed as she sat there on his left. He had taken over the high-seat and displaced her father to lower down the bench. How dare he! Aksel sat on his right and Sira Odde across from him. Magnus's men took up the other places. 
	His men ate roasted venison and flatbread, as did the good priest, but the food was dry in Tora's mouth and stuck in her throat. Magnus nudged her.
	"Eat. You are too thin." 
	Tora bristled. "Will you also tell me when to eat and how much?" 
	"How wearying that would be." Magnus leaned close to her and under his breath he said, "You can bet that when my seed is growing in your belly I shall make sure you eat properly."
	Tora's quick retort remained unuttered as Father Odde spoke.
	"Your Lordship, there are a few details left to be put in order concerning your marriage. First off, the bans will need to be read. Secondly, I trust you will want to have ample time to spread the word to your people about the coming wedding. You will be married in Christ Church in Hamar by the bishop, as befits your station, I presume?"
	"No. I will not. You shall marry us here, as soon as possible. I will be away from this place as quickly as I can."
	By the scowl on his face, Tora began to believe that the man at her side resented this arrangement as much as she did. At least we have one thing in common, she thought darkly.
	"Let the bans be read once, priest. One week from this Sunday, the wedding shall take place." 
	Tora panicked. One week! That was no time at all! Her mind spun with all the ramifications of the impending wedding. Her father held captive, she married to a brute, Loren in the hands of strangers, her plans with Arne destroyed.
	Arne. For as long as she could remember, she had loved Arne Finnsson. As her closest neighbor, Arne and she had spent many happy times together, first in the innocent play of children and lately, in the first awkward attempts of young love. The eldest son of Toverud farm, he would inherit the main farm. Together, the two of them were to maintain the most prosperous farm in the district.
	Arne was kind and gentle—unlike the jarl, she asserted. Arne had soft brown eyes that made her feel warm and affectionate toward him. She must seek Arne out. He would have witnessed her father's trial and was probably miserable. She must speak to him personally, let him know how sorry she was that they would never marry.
	Tora asked to be excused from the Hall early to seek her bed. There was no need to pretend her weariness or headache. His lordship took one good look at her and dismissed her. She dared not look at her father as she left. 
	She crossed the yard and climbed the stairs to the maids' loft where she often slept in the summer. She rested her pounding head upon her bedding and dozed, thinking to wait until everyone at Loren had sought their beds before going to Arne. No one need know about her errand, especially the jarl. 
	Tora fell asleep, though, and awoke to the light of the very early morning. She knew with certainty that the others would not rise for hours yet. Keeping her breathing light and even, she dressed and slipped out the door.
	Stealth was difficult when the night hours were light, but she used the training her father had given her and moved as gracefully as a doe from shadow to shadow. Clad in brown hose and a tunic, leather moccasins protecting her feet and her hair hidden under a cap, she hoped to pass as a boy.
	Toverud slept. The dogs ran up to greet her, but didn't bark; they knew her well. She patted each one affectionately before making her way to the house carls' cottage where she knew Arne would be sleeping. 
	She slipped into the room and stood still, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim light therein. Arne lay against one of the walls. Tora held her breath and tiptoed between snoring male bodies to where he lay. She smiled at the sight of Arne's naked, youthful form. Here was the boy who should have one day been her husband.
	She covered his mouth with her hand. Arne jerked awake and Tora pressed a finger to her lips. He relaxed when he recognized her. She removed her hand from his mouth and motioned to him to come outside. He slipped a long shirt over his head and followed her. Once outside, Tora grabbed Arne's hand and led him into the trees, away from the buildings and sleeping people.
	"Tora, what are you doing here?" Arne asked in hushed tones. "What if someone sees us together?" he added, his eyes flicking here and there.
	"Oh, Arne, have you heard their plans for me?"
	Arne bowed his head, his mouth pulled down at the corners. "I heard." He took hold of both of her hands and then pulled her into his arms.
	"Arne, I am so sorry. You and I...our future together...But there was no other way! I would never have put our future in jeopardy if I'd thought there any other way to save my father." 
	Arne sighed and patted her awkwardly on her back. 
	"Put your anguish aside, Tora. My father says there is naught to be done now. To go against the Ting is a serious matter and the jarl is a very powerful man. 'Twould be foolhardy to defy him."
	Unexpected disappointment filled Tora. "You seem to accept this all so easily! Will you wake up tomorrow and go on as if I never existed?"	
	"No, you misunderstand! Do you honestly think I enjoy being helpless, watching another man take you when you should be mine? I would like to crush him beneath my heel for you!" Arne's voice deepened in frustration, his hands clenching at his sides. "If I thought it would be to any avail, that there was any chance in Heaven I could champion you, I would cast my life down for you without a second thought. 
	"Do you not know that, Tora? I can protest till I'm blue in the face, but who would listen? I could challenge Lord Ringebu, but would your situation be any better with my blood spilled? We are like grain under the millstone. We have no choice but to relent."
	"A very wise and true statement, boy," a deep voice said. 
	Tora and Arne looked up, startled. The jarl stepped out of the trees behind them. He stood a good head taller than Arne and his broad shoulders and chest dwarfed the young man. He wore only a brown tunic that reached to mid-thigh. Around his narrow hips hung a fine leather belt and one hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword sheathed at his side. His dark wavy hair hung loosely about his broad shoulders and his muscular legs were bare, except for soft leather boots upon his feet. 
	Arne made a hasty bow to him. "My lord," he said. Magnus did not acknowledge him, but kept his gaze on Tora.
	As much as she wanted to run, Tora stood her ground as Jarl Magnus approached her, her blue eyes locked with his. His face looked calm and he moved as if relaxed, but his eyes glinted angrily. He took hold of her arm and drew her to him. His grip tightened when she tried to move away. 
	"Let go of me!" she insisted, struggling to break free. She might as well have been wrestling with a bull, she realized. She gave one last hard jerk and stomped her foot in frustration. Magnus ignored her protests and turned to face Arne, his grip on her remaining firm and unrelenting. 
	"What is your name?"
	"Arne Finnsson, my lord."
	"And you love my betrothed, Arne?"
	Arne blanched at the hard look in Magnus's eyes. "She was my be...betrothed first," he stammered, swallowing hard. "We have grown up together and it was our wish that we be married." 
	Magnus studied the young man with serious eyes. "I see. Tora should be proud to have such a brave and wise suitor. Had we been more equally matched, I would accept your challenge for her. But I am a battle-hardened man, Arne, and there would be no contest. 'Tis wiser to let you grow to be a man whose wisdom and strength will be an asset to me in the future." 
	Tora stared astounded at Magnus as he carefully tread around Arne's pride. She didn't understand. How could he be so cold to her, and yet display such understanding for Arne's feelings? Irritation battled with gratitude for the smooth avenue he created for Arne's honorable retreat. 
	"Arne, the advice your father gave you is sound. Tora belongs to me now. It would be best for you to forget her. Go, seek your bed." 
	"Arne! Do not leave me!" Tora cried.
	Arne had turned to go, but paused at the despair in Tora's voice. 
	"I'm sorry, Tora," he said, "truly I am." He was almost out of sight when Magnus called out to him.
	"And, Arne, you will not visit Loren while we are yet there. Do you understand?"
	Arne gazed forlornly at Tora and then back at Magnus. 
	"Yes, my lord," he murmured, and disappeared.	
	Tora seethed as Magnus drew her with him. Constant travel between Loren and Toverud had smoothed the path, but his strides were long and she had to jog to keep up with him. 
	"Of all the arrogant, self-serving..." she muttered under her breath. The man was no chivalrous knight, that was for certain! More like a "rude, insufferable, cad!" she bit out more loudly. After stumbling one more time, she dug her heels into the ground. 
	"Stop it!" she hissed. "I will not allow you to drag me home as if I were a naughty child. You are a brute and a barbarian to treat me so!"
	Magnus looked down into Tora's angry face and smiled. The rest she had gotten had done her good and color flushed her cheeks. Her eyes shone brighter than the new day and her chest heaved with indignation. His desire rose as his gaze dropped to her bosom where the swell of her breasts could be seen through her open tunic. He raised his eyes to appreciate the fullness of her soft rosy mouth and then met her moody gaze once more.
	"So, you had thought to run from my barbaric presence and into the arms of your lover," he mocked. "And tell me, did he give you solace?" 
	She ignored his question and asked one of her own. "How did you know I was here?"
	Magnus shrugged. "I do not trust you, Tora, and had one of my men watching you. When he saw a boy leave the maids' sleeping bower, he reported to me. I followed you here." 
	He changed the subject. "You are seventeen summers, Tora. You are a woman who needs a man now, not a boy like Arne. Let me show you how a man can make you feel."
	Her lips were warm and full beneath his. With all the time in the world, he teased her with small kisses, solid kisses and ones that skimmed across her skin. His hand slid to her nape and one thumb rubbed just below her ear. A sound, almost a purr, reached him. Tora tilted her head up to him. "Open your mouth to me," he whispered. His tongue invaded her willing mouth in a mock dance of courtship. He advanced and retreated, coaxed and teased until she grew bold enough to accept him and return his kiss.
	"Did Arne ever make you feel like this?" he asked, breaking the kiss. 
	She didn't answer and tried to move away. His arm tightened about her waist, pulling her close. With one hand he tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. 
	"Did he?" he repeated. Again she was silent. He nuzzled her throat, his teeth gently biting her. She trembled in his arms.
	"You need not answer," he said, his voice muffled against her skin. "I know he didn't."	
	Magnus led his now properly silenced betrothed back to the maidens' bower and watched as she raced up the stairs and disappeared inside. He smiled as he remembered her heated response to his kiss. Within that innocent maiden's body hid a woman full of passion. He felt triumphant, but at the same time, chagrined. He had coupled with many beautiful women, but never before had he experienced the passion and heat that burned within him as he had kissed Tora. 	
	Her every curve and swell fit so well against him and her novice response held great promise. How he would enjoy initiating her in the ways of pleasure! Growing aroused just at the memory of her soft body molded against his, Magnus shifted uncomfortably and made his way to his bed. He regretted now that his wedding was a whole week away.

(bm) Chapter 4

"NEVER IN my life have I been treated with so little regard for my person!" Tora fumed. She paced the hearth house-loft floor before Anna, her long, impatient strides hampered by the folds of her gown and the cluttered length of the room. She stopped abruptly in front of the open chest that had arrived from Ringebu for her, her long, blond braid swinging widely in her agitation. This, she had been informed, held her wedding gown, compliments of the jarl. 
	A gown of the finest blue silk Tora had ever seen rested in the chest. The fabric alone must have been worth a small fortune, but she was not impressed. Plundered goods, probably. She held the garment up in front of herself. The bodice plunged deep, the cut crafted to emphasize a woman's every curve. Her cheeks grew hot. She could not wear this gown! 
	She wrinkled her nose and shivered in revulsion as she dropped the dress back into the chest and slammed the lid down. "It probably belonged to his dead wife!" She would not wear the gown, no matter how much Jarl Magnus demanded it.
	"You have so many resentments toward the jarl that he'll never be able to please you, will he?" Anna asked.
	"He will never try. If only he had been reasonable and made peace with my father, none of this would have happened!" Tora exclaimed.
	"If only Oddvar had refrained from drinking himself senseless and losing control...place the blame where it rightfully belongs, Tora." 
	"You're right," Tora admitted grudgingly. "This is all my mother's fault."
	Anna laughed. "It is good to see you have not lost your sense of humor, sister. It will not be so bad. The jarl is quite comely. I have heard the other maids say that they would give anything to be in your shoes now. Imagine, a countess! Any sensible woman would not make trouble for the jarl as you have done—sneaking off in the middle of the night! They would know their duty and please him." 
	Tora wanted to shout that Magnus hadn't told them he would treat them as whores or slaves, either, but she held her tongue. "I won't do it! I'll help Father escape to Sweden, to his brother, and Arne and I will marry in secret." 
	Tora crossed her arms over her young bosom. In her mind's eye she saw not Arne, however, but Magnus. The memory of his passionate kiss came flooding back, his warm lips upon hers, his tongue plunging into her mouth and claiming her as his own—and her own heated response. Arne's tentative kisses had never made her feel flustered and hot. Tora continued pacing, unable to stem the sudden flood of warmth that washed through her. Bear Magnus a child....
	"You speak nonsense!" Anna replied. "You love Arne as you would a lapdog, not as a woman does a man. I will not stand here and listen to your foolish prattle."
	Tora regarded her friend's frowning face and flashing brown eyes. A young woman simply didn't question or defy their parents' wishes. Anna was betrothed to the farm's foreman who was twelve years her senior. She had been acquainted with him all her life and Tora knew Anna accepted the coming marriage as her duty when her parents had arranged it. Perhaps with time, they might grow to love each other, perhaps not. Anna did not seem to mind her lack of control.
	"The deed is done and on the morrow you will be led to church with a golden crown upon your head and vow obedience and loyalty to Lord Ringebu. Now I must fetch Sira Odde, who has come to hear your confession."  
	Tora plopped down on a trunk and watched Anna climb down out of the loft. Anna had laughed at her when she mentioned her mother. Of course it was illogical to blame her mother for this travesty. But in a tucked-away corner of her young heart, she ached for those warm arms that had never held her. How different things might have been if she had lived. Oddvar would have had no reason to get drunk, and this calamity might never have befallen them. A strong yearning pierced Tora's heart. If only her mother could be with her now, hold her and rock her and tell her that everything would be all right. 

TORA'S WEDDING day dawned gloomy and wet—which suited her mood just fine. She had tossed and turned all night and now, as the hour grew late, the waiting frayed her nerves. She had insisted Edda and Anna leave her alone, so she could dress in peace. 
	Her heart skipped a beat as she heard the hearth house door open and someone step in. The heavy footfalls belonged to a man, but which one? She closed her eyes and prayed it wasn't the jarl. She had gone through with her threat not to wear the gown he'd sent her, knowing he wouldn't be pleased. 
	"Tora Oddvarsdatter, come. 'Tis time to get this cursed wedding over with." 
	Her heart sunk. It was the jarl. She bit her lip, uncertain as to whether she could go through with her plan. She just couldn't stand having had so little say in the events of the past week. Maybe this was a childish, inept way to gain some control over her life, but there was no time to back out now. Ach, well, he would see her sometime, she might as well get it over with. Gathering her courage, she went to meet him.
	The jarl faced away from her as she climbed down the ladder from the loft. At the bottom, she braced herself, drawing herself up straight and tall. She wasn't afraid of him, she reminded herself. She swallowed hard and cleared her throat.
	Magnus turned to her and the look of amazement upon his face almost made Tora laugh out loud. Her nervous smile turned into a broad grin as a surge of triumph swept through her. If he had expected a sweet, young virgin to docilely follow him to the altar, he was sorely mistaken.
	Magnus gaped at Tora. He quickly recovered himself, though, and his astonishment turned to irritation.
	"Do you mean to insult me with your rags?!" 
	His eyes raked her, taking in everything from the gray clout to the dowdy, stained blouse, and the worn, ugly, loose dress that dropped in a straight line from her bosom to her feet. She wore no jewelry, no crown, no starched, white kerchief. 
	Magnus looked into Tora's eyes and suddenly understood that she wanted to irritate him. He admitted wryly to himself that she had accomplished her goal quite easily. He had fallen right for her trick. Who would have thought a maid could be so reckless? On the outside she looked as soft and tender as a willow tree. 
	Magnus forced his facial muscles to relax and hid his emotions from her. He held out his arm to her and said with a curt little bow, "Very well, my dear, shall we go?" 
	Now it was his turn to laugh as a look of confusion crossed Tora's face. She probably had not expected this reaction from him. She had probably wagered that he would force her to change—after first delighting her with a fit of temper. 
	Magnus stood with his arm outstretched, watching Tora squirm. He took great amusement in watching her as one emotion after the other flitted across her face. At least she wasn't going to prove a bore.
	He knew that he looked like a true lord today. He wore a new white shirt and a long, black fustian kirtle that swept nearly to his ankles. Precious stones studded the black belt encompassing his narrow hips. From the belt hung his sword and bejeweled dagger. A rich black cape, fastened at his neck by a finely etched gold ring brooch, flowed off his shoulders. An Italian black silk hat sat upon his dark neatly queued hair. 
	He let Tora squirm, waiting for her to make the first move. He grinned when she turned on her heel and fled up the ladder again. 
	Magnus's deep, hearty laughter followed Tora to the loft. Her cheeks burned. He had caught her in her own prank and had turned the tables on her. She took her anger out on her clothes, jerking off the clout and dress, ripping the blouse as she brought it over her head. 
	She had wanted to show him that he couldn't order her about, and she had just made a fool of herself, instead. He would get his way, after all. Tears of frustration threatened to spill over onto her cheeks. She wiped them impatiently away. Ooh, how she'd like to get her hands around his throat and strangle him! Without taking a second look at it, Tora drew the blue silk gown over her head. 
	Its silken caress could not be ignored, nor the way it molded to her body, following the curve of breast, waist and hip like a second skin. A matching silk belt wrapped around her hips, further drawing attention to her curves. To her dismay, an ample section of her breasts pressed over the top of the bodice. Did he expect her to display herself in public like some idle woman? He could hang her by her thumbs before she agreed to that. She grabbed a shawl and pinned it with a small brooch to cover her bosom. 
	She unlocked a chest and removed a large silver platter. Shaky and faintly excited, she held it up to see her reflection. The dress moved so sensuously against her skin. And although she would deny it if anyone asked, she thought she looked very womanly, indeed—like one of the Greek goddesses the scalds described in their tales. Perhaps for the man she loved, she would enjoy wearing a dress like this.
	Shaking off the thought, she put the platter down and brushed her golden locks until they shone. She glanced around the room, but knew there could be no more delays. With a deep breath and rod-straight spine, she descended into the main room again, just to find it empty. 
	She stepped out into the mild, gray day. The rain had stopped, at least temporarily. Her father stood there, with Edda and Anna. In his hands he held a crown, a simple golden wreath, but a most important symbol. He placed it upon her head, attempting a feeble smile, but she could tell he had not forgiven himself for her predicament. 
	She grasped his hand and clutched it to her bosom, squeezing hard, hoping to lend him strength at the same time she sought it from him. Oddvar brought her hand to his lips and then guided her to the horse. As bride, she would ride to the church in honor, her virginal state confirmed by the golden crown upon her head.

TORA REMEMBERED little about the wedding ceremony afterwards. She felt faint in the close, dark church as the priest droned on and on in Latin, which she did not understand. Her knees were stiff from kneeling at the altar beside the jarl. Now and again his arm would bump her shoulder or his hard thigh would brush her hip, and she kept her hands clasped tightly together to keep them from shaking. 
	Her people and neighbors packed the little timber church, adding to her feeling of suffocation. Jarl Magnus's family was not represented. Only Aksel and a few of his other men were there as witnesses to their union. She dully replied to the priest's questions and commands. 
	One thing struck her that she would remember for the rest of her days. Magnus took her right hand within his, and as she watched, he slipped a heavy silver band upon her ring finger. It was not the ring that stuck in her memory, but the warmth and solidness of his hand holding hers. She glanced up in his face, expecting to see possessiveness there. She was not disappointed. But there was also a glimmer of compassion in their blue depths, as if he understood her fear and her feeling that the world whirled about her faster than she could keep up. 
	Of course, even a simpleton could see how she trembled, and if the white of her hands was any indication of the color of her face.... 
	He gave her hand a brief squeeze, as if to lend her courage. She tried to smile back in reassurance, but her quivering chin kept the corners of her lips from cooperating.

AFTERWARDS WAS awkward. People were used to partaking of a feast in an atmosphere of joy and celebration when a wedding occurred. Toasts would be plentiful and speeches of the husband's generous groom's gift and the dowry made by the bride's family would be made. They expected to sit and eat long into the night, singing and imbibing until the time arrived to lead the happy couple to their bridal bed. 
	The food and drink had been served, but Tora was sure that everyone present could feel the tension building between all parties involved. There was no groom's present for the bride, nor was there a dowry, since the groom already possessed everything the bride's father owned. She was thus denied the normal feeling of some economical independence from her husband, as the Norwegian dowry traditionally remained the woman's property.
	Tora sat at Magnus's side and ignored him, or tried to. His ring hung heavy on her finger, as unfamiliar and encroaching as a shackle. How could she ignore the towering man beside her, her husband in the sight of God, who would soon make her his wife in the sight of the law, too. 
	Her thoughts slipped back to their confrontation at Toverud. Dressed as Jarl Magnus had been in only a tunic, she could not help but notice how well proportioned he was. His muscles rippled beneath his unblemished skin and she knew from experience how overwhelmingly strong he was. Little pulses of excitement shot through her as she wondered what it would be like to have those limbs wrapped about her, holding her close and...Tora cursed herself. She must remember she was thinking about the man who declared her his slave!
	She pretended to eat, but had no appetite. She drank steadily and grew tipsy and light-headed as the strained wedding feast struggled to reach completion. The voices around her became the buzzing of bees in her head. She smiled crookedly as she imagined laying in a warm summer meadow full of wild flowers, bees humming all around her. 
	Elbow on table, she tipped her cup to her mouth and emptied it. She knew Magnus regarded her through narrowed eyes. Go ahead, let him brood. This was her wedding day. He took the cup from her unsteady hand. She wanted to protest, but found her tongue as useful as a thick wool mitten in her mouth. His scowling face blurred, and then all went black and silent.

THE SUN SHONE bright and warm in Tora's face when she awoke in the maids' loft where she had so often slept before. She grimaced, throwing her arm across her eyes. Her head pounded, its throbbing strong and steady. Her tongue felt like a cattail, stiff and fuzzy. 
	"Ugh," she groaned. 
	Images of yesterday came rushing back to her. She couldn't remember what happened after the wedding feast or how she ended up here. Had she been with Magnus? Had he lain with her? Only a light cover decked her naked body. Tora lifted it to gaze at herself. She frowned, noting how thin she had become since the tragedy. Her ribs and her pelvic bones were almost prominent. She moved tentatively, waiting for signs of...what? She didn't know. Her cheeks growing hot, Tora wondered whom she could ask about last evening's events. 	
	Tora dressed, splashed her face with cold water and rinsed her mouth. Her morning ablutions completed, she trudged over to the Hall. The sun stood high and she hoped she would be alone with her cold mush. She was disappointed. Several others were there, red-rimmed eyes staring at her from above their bowls of porridge. She was relieved to see Edda was there. Maybe Edda could give her the answers she sought.
	"Good morning, Tora, you are looking well," Bjorn said in greeting.
	Tora sent Bjorn a sharp glance, wondering if he teased her, but remembered her manners. "Thank you." 
	Tora waited until the others left before she approached Edda. She stood watching her slice onions into the big pot. A deer quarter hung from a hook in the wall, waiting to meet her competent hands and knife. The older woman glanced up at Tora and went on with her work. 
	"You are wondering what happened last night, are you not?" Edda asked flatly.
	"Well..." 
	"If you think I am going to tell you about it, you are mistaken. You need to ask his lordship—your husband," she added with emphasis. 
	Tora did not reply. Edda could be a bit prickly, and generally she knew how to assuage her foster mother's ire, but not today. She watched Edda's slicing become more vigorous and bit her lower lip, waiting.
	"Tora, I have done my best to raise you to be a good mistress here at Loren. I think I have done a decent job, too. Loren has flourished beneath your hand." Edda nodded to herself. "And then this tragedy struck, and you were hurled into the middle of it. It hurts my heart to see you so unhappy, but nothing can be done about it, Tora. What's done is done." Edda stopped her slicing and turned to face her, taking hold of her arms. 
	"Tora, if you are physically yet a maid, the world sees you as a woman—the wife of a great man. You must accept your role at his side, under the conditions of the Ting. You must humble yourself and do his bidding. You must not fight him, Tora, do you understand? You must not let us down," she pressed. 
	Edda's words rang in Tora's ears as she ran from the Hall. She ran blindly, tears blurring her vision. Everywhere she turned, she heard the same thing—from Anna, from Odde Priest, and now from Edda. How could she do what they asked her to do? How could she subjugate herself to the Highland Jarl? How could she sleep with her enemy?
	Tora's stream of thoughts ended abruptly when she crashed into a solid, warm wall. Strong arms steadied her as she stared wildly up to see who held her. She closed her eyes and drew a ragged breath. It was the jarl—her husband, she corrected herself—Magnus.
	She heard a muttered curse and then a cloth was shoved into her hand. She wiped her face and nose, sniffing. She was reluctant to face her husband at this moment, feeling vulnerable and somewhat lost, but willed herself not to show it.
	"Is this your groom's present to me?" she offered brashly, hiccuping.
	Magnus snorted. "'Tis certainly more than you deserve after last night." 
	Heat flooded her cheeks. She forced herself to look Magnus directly in the eye a moment, letting him see her uncertainty and the intimate questions which she knew must reside there. Then she let her gaze wander to her surroundings. 
	"Yes. I carried you to bed and undressed you. You were drunk, and no matter how much I want to make you with child, I do not mount insensible women," he said in answer to her unspoken question. 
	Tora grew warm thinking of his hands upon her naked flesh.
	"Although your behavior on your wedding day lacked all regard for propriety, you actually did us a favor. We escaped the embarrassing situation of unwelcome visitors by our bed. There was no need for me to cut my hand to bleed upon your bed to prove your virginity, either." 
	She looked at him in alarm. 
	He held up both hands. "Hold your tongue. I meant to wait until we were safely back at Ringebu before bedding you, in any case, Tora." He looked about him, his nose wrinkled in distaste. "This place leaves me with little appetite for coupling." He put a finger to her lips to quiet her coming outburst. "No, save your breath. We leave at mid-day. Go and ready yourself. And Tora," he added as she turned to leave him, "go put on your clout. You are now a married woman." 
	Tora picked up her skirts and ran from him.

(bm) Chapter 5

EDDA AND ANNA had packed Tora's possessions in chests, which now jostled and bumped in the carts ahead of her. Magnus, Aksel and the majority of his escort rode ahead. Three men escorted Tora, one at her side and two behind her. 
	They rode in silence, no one venturing even into polite conversation with her. Tora sat upright in the saddle, refusing to allow anyone to see her sorrow upon leaving the only home she had ever known. She stood alone against Magnus and his people—he'd denied her even the company of a maid! She glowered at the jarl's back, her bitterness toward him burning in her heart as she recalled her father being forcibly escorted from the farm to Hamar like a common outlaw.
	She'd stepped outside this morning, on her way to say goodbye to her people. Heavy of heart, she prayed she could say farewell with dignity. She bolstered her spirits with the thought that she and her father would return to Loren someday, to the woods she loved and the people who were so much a part of her. 
	Across the yard a group of Magnus's men were mounting their horses. Magnus stood close by. Bryn was shocked to see her father among them, his hands bound in front of him.
	"Wait! What are you doing!" she cried, picking up her skirts and racing over to them. "Father, where are you going?"
	"He's going to Hamar, Tora, where he will be held prisoner for the next two years," Magnus answered.
	Tora turned to face him, fighting back the sudden dread that threatened to rob her of her voice. "But why? Why are you doing this? Is not the fact that I must lie with you enough punishment?"
	Magnus gave a short laugh. "Most women would not find that such a burden, dear wife." He grew serious once more. "If you hadn't run off so fast from the Ting, you would know that the council decided to imprison Oddvar for the duration of this farce of a marriage."
	"I am not to gain in any way from this alliance between you and the jarl, Tora." Oddvar's voice was calm. 
	Tora stepped to his side. Somehow, she had thought he would be free, that if she bore no son, he could escape and avoid execution. 
	Oddvar reached out with his bound hands and gently rubbed his knuckles down her cheek.
	Tora rested her head against his leg, the tightness in her chest growing until she nearly burst in sorrow. "I cannot live without you, Papa." Worse, how was Oddvar to survive life in a dank, dark cell, with no one to care for him? She must stop Magnus from taking him, beg him on her knees, if necessary, to let her father stay at Ringebu with her. 
	But as if her father sensed her thoughts, he caught her by the hair at her nape and gave her a little shake. His touch, his very composure lent Tora the strength to slowly straighten and turn to her husband.
	"I will never forgive you for this," she said to him, her voice low, trembling with emotion, before she fled to the Hall.
	She would never forgive him, Tora swore, as the travelers finally approached Ringebu. They had ridden as hard as the carts would allow and evening had arrived. If the jarl thought she would complain after hours of riding without a break, he would be sorely disappointed. She prided herself on her horsemanship, and in the days of riding with her father, she had been able to keep up with the best of the men. 
	She gripped her reins tightly as she stared about at her new home. The layout of Ringebu was similar to Loren's, she noted with relief, only larger and grander. Numerous timbered one- and two-storied buildings surrounded a spacious courtyard. Workshops, several storehouses and sleeping quarters for single men and women were nearby. Tora guessed that the remaining buildings probably contained the hearthroom, a weaving room, kitchen and steward's house. She continued to view her new home, noting the large stables, barns and outbuildings south of the courtyard.
	She sat frozen in the saddle as the others dismounted. A dozen people stared at her from around the courtyard, not a friendly face among them. They all know of the circumstances surrounding my arrival here. 
	The jarl sauntered to the manor house, where he stopped to speak to a stout-looking woman before disappearing inside. That rankled. He wasn't even going to welcome her to her new home! His man Aksel appeared at her elbow.
	"Come, girl," he said. When she didn't make a move to dismount, he gripped her about the waist and lifted her down before leading her to the manor house. 
	Tora followed dumbly, staring at the house in wonder. Built of gray stone, like the monastery she had seen at Hamar, its arched windows filled with thick glass panes seemed to stare at her, adding to her feeling of being an interloper. The manor connected to the Hall by a wooden passageway, the Hall appearing to be much older than the manor house itself. Behind the Hall towered an old stone turret. 
	The view of the Hall disappeared as Aksel led Tora inside. Not given more than a moment to glance at the arched ceilings within, Tora was introduced to Maalfrid, the housekeeper. Tora noted at once that she held the keys to Ringebu. 
	Dark eyes placed within a grim middle-aged face glittered as they coldly assessed her. Maalfrid's lips were drawn in a tight line as if she never smiled. Probably has bad teeth or the breath of a goat. The woman did not curtsy or even acknowledge her with more than a curt nod. Instead, she turned to Aksel. 
	"Have her things taken to the corner chamber, if you please, Aksel." 
	Aksel looked askance at her. 
	"Those are his lordship's orders," Maalfrid added when he hesitated. She turned to Tora then.
	"Follow me." 
	Tora had never met such a cold woman in all her life. At Loren, even the lowliest beggar was treated with respect, given the same gracious attention that any highborn visitor would receive. She gritted her teeth and vowed not to allow the brittle woman to affect her as she followed her up a flight of stairs and to the end of the hall above. 
	She was led to a small room containing a bed, a meager tall table with a copper bowl for washing and a chamber pot beneath. One narrow window looked out into the deep woods behind the manor. She had imagined Magnus's chamber would be much larger and grander than this. When she mentioned this to Maalfrid, the woman laughed. 
	"'Tis not his lordship's bedchamber," she commented haughtily.
	Tora could have bitten her tongue. How stupid of her to presume that she and Magnus would share the same bed and the same room as other married couples. To expect any other kind of reception than she had received was perhaps foolish, too, when her father had caused their lord's son's death. If they were like her people at Loren, they would be very loyal and protective of the jarl and all that was his.
	Tora glanced about the chamber, trying unsuccessfully not to focus on the bed which dominated the room. The largest bed she had ever seen, its rich wood was detailed with intricate patterns and the grimacing heads of dragons. She let her hand slide across the linens and soft sheepskins that covered the thickly stuffed mattress. She shivered as she imagined her naked skin against such softness. Then she blushed, thinking of the jarl there beside her.
	"You will remain here. Food and drink will be brought, as will water for a bath." With those few, terse words, Maalfrid turned and left the room, closing the solid door firmly behind her. 
	Once alone, Tora went weak in the knees and collapsed on the bed. Her exhaustion won over the strain she was under, and she dozed off.
	She awoke to a perfunctory rap at her door. A young woman entered with a steaming bowl of stew, followed by a young man who bore a small bench and a table. Rich scents of bay leaf, onion and pepper wafted over her, and her stomach rumbled.
	"Thank you for bringing me my supper," she began, probing for the reaction she could expect from these two young people. "Please tell the cook it smells wonderful." The girl nodded and smiled shyly at her, but did not say anything. 
	"I will return shortly with a tub for you, my lady," ventured the blond-haired man. He gave a short bow in unison to the girl's curtsy as they left the room again. 
	Tora wondered about their silence. Had they been told not to speak to her? Was this a sign of how her life would be here at Ringebu—kept in a barren room, isolated and spurned? Tora slumped down on the bed again. She found herself in this grand manor, addressed as 'my lady', curtsied and bowed to, rich food and goods surrounding her. Never had she longed more for the quiet simplicity of life at Loren. 
	Her complaining stomach would not allow her to dwell long on her circumstances. With a sigh, she sat down and ate every bite of stew. She would not let the jarl and his people rattle her. She had thought much about Edda's plea and resolved to do her part to save her father from Jarl Magnus's revenge—despite her antipathy for her lord husband.
	Shortly after her meal, Tora disrobed and lowered herself into a steaming tub scented with rosewater. If there were new things she needed to accustom herself to, she would enjoy this one immensely. 
	The tension that had built in her melted away as she soaped her body and washed her hair. She leaned back against the round tub, draped her arms along the sides and closed her eyes. I can cope, she concluded wryly. 
	When the water cooled, Tora stepped out of the bath and dried her glowing skin with a length of cloth. Her chests had been delivered as she slept, and now she sat at the little table and brushed her hair, dressed in the white linen nightgown Edda had given her. Its simplicity aside, the gown was not one that a maid wore. A multitude of small bows laced the bodice from her navel to her throat. 
	Tora's chest tightened at the thought of Magnus undoing those laces and what would come afterwards, but turned her thoughts deliberately away. With each brush stroke, she vowed to herself that she would remain indifferent to his caresses. To enjoy Magnus's touch would be a betrayal to her father. She must think only of saving Oddvar, and remember the jarl's malice toward him. 
	She would remain cold and aloof. The jarl would not have the satisfaction of arousing her to the heat and urgency that he had with his previous caresses.
	"If you brush your hair any more violently, it will fall out," a deep masculine voice drawled. 
	Tora whirled around, the brush thudding to the floor. Magnus stood leaning against the doorjamb, a look of slight amusement on his handsome face. 
	He, too, had bathed. His dark hair lay in damp curls about his shoulders. He wore only a fustian robe, its deep chestnut color accentuating the warm hue of his skin. Tora bit her lip at the sight of him. Dark hair curled lightly upon his exposed chest. Muscular calves and well-shaped feet were bare. She met his intense gaze, her every nerve on edge. She wondered if, like an animal, he could sense her sudden fear.
	Magnus stepped into the room and closed the door solidly behind him, his eyes never leaving hers.
	Tora leapt to her feet, her nails cutting into her palms. If she loosed them they would tremble. She swallowed hard and lifted her chin. With a bravado she did not feel, she looked him in the eye, clinging to her crumbling composure.
	"I am ready. I mean...you must tell me what to do..." she faltered, her voice failing her and her cheeks burning as Magnus advanced toward her. His presence filled the little room, and Tora automatically took a step back, suddenly feeling small and helpless. Magnus cocked an eyebrow at her. 
	"Surely even a virgin knows what goes on between man and woman?" he asked, taking hold of her arms and pulling her to him. His voice whispered low and husky in her ear. "Have you not seen a mare in season, Tora, standing with her tail up, her hind quarters quivering in anticipation of being mounted by the stallion? Have you not heard her whinny in ecstasy as he mounts her and bites her neck to hold her in place?" Magnus moved to meet her gaze. "Can you not see it, Tora, that beautiful male's thick rod entering the mare's welcoming softness again and again, till he spills his seed into her swollen, throbbing sheath?" 
	Tora held her breath, unable to tear her eyes away from his. The image he had drawn made her blood run hot. The intense desire that glowed in his eyes kindled a fire deep within her. Flushed and excited, her resolve to remain aloof rapidly slipped away.
	She tried to turn away from him, but he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms about her waist. One hand slid up her back to grab her hair. He wrapped its length around his fist until his hand reached her scalp, leaving her just as incapable of moving as the stallion had the mare.
	"You are not ready, Tora. Not yet, but I shall soon remedy that. I will not take you cold and haughty. You are a stubborn and proud woman, but I promise before this night is over, you'll beg for me to take you and make you mine."
	"Never!" His words brought her abruptly back to reality. This was not her lover crooning to her. This was a man who would take her and use her for his own ends—regardless of her wishes. "I will never want you so long as my father's life is in danger! And I am not a possession you can own!"
	"Oh, but you are. You were given to me at the Ting, and you have sworn in front of God and witnesses that you will obey me. As for how long your father's life remains in peril, that is up to you," Magnus answered, his deep blue eyes glinting in the candlelight. "You would do well to spread your sweet thighs to me willingly and often so that I might plant a son in your vessel."
	Tora's anger surged uncontrollably. Her pent up rage at her predicament burst from her like a thunderclap. She pummeled Magnus with her fists and kicked his shins with her bare feet. He only laughed at her and crushed her to him until she could scarcely breathe. Releasing her hair, he swung her up over his shoulder and unceremoniously dumped her on the bed. 
	Tora bounded off, her heart pumping madly in her breast. She ran to the door, but had no time to open it. Magnus reached her first, and pressed her up against its rough wood. He grabbed her wrists and brought them above her head, holding them with one hand. 
	"Leave me alone! I hate you, I hate you!" she screamed at him. She heard him rumble with laughter at the futility of her words before his mouth descended upon hers, silencing her cries. He kissed her hard, his tongue plunging deep into her mouth until he met her response. Only then did he soften the kiss, teasing her with his tongue. 
	Tora's breathing turned ragged, the room spun as new sensations assaulted her. She did not know how much longer she could fight him. His hard body pressed against her softness and his ardent kisses were strong opponents to her will. 
	His lips roamed her face, kissing her closed eyes, her jaw, her throat. His mouth paused where her pulse beat wildly, and she heard him chuckle before he continued his way in a slow line down across her gown, his warm breath searing her through the thin material. He caught one of her nipples with his teeth and gently pulled and sucked. Tora moaned. Bolts of pleasure shot from her breasts to deep within her belly. 
	His free hand roamed the length of her, reaching down and sliding her gown up about one hip. It moved around to caress her bottom, pressing her even closer to his throbbing hardness. Tora groaned as her traitorous body quivered in response to his caresses. 
	Magnus lifted her again into his arms, kissing her as he carried her to the bed. He fell onto the mattress in one motion, his weight crushing her beneath him. Tora pushed futilely at his hands as he began to undo the laces at her throat. Again her hands were captured in his iron grip. Her breath caught in her throat as his fingers continued their task of loosening the ties to her bodice. 
	"Have you forgotten why you are here, wife? It will avail you not to fight me. You have your duty to me, and I will see that you fulfill it."
	Tora bit back a moan of delight as the heat of his fingers sent shock waves of exquisite pleasure through her. Magnus pushed the cloth away, and his eyes blazed with desire as they met hers before returning to gaze upon her firm, full breasts. His tanned hand cupped one, his thumb brushing across her nipple. 
	Tora gasped, arching instinctively toward him. She began to lose her sense of self, consumed by intense pleasure that knew no bounds, melting and molding into one with him. He lowered his head and suckled at her other breast. Tora whimpered and writhed beneath him. 
	She had lost her battle. 
	Magnus released her hands and Tora brought them down on his shoulders. She wanted very much to touch him and grew frustrated when she met cloth and not his warm skin. She shoved the robe aside and gripped his broad shoulders, then let her hands tentatively roam over his chest and back. 
	Whereas she was mostly soft, he was made of many textures—smooth and hard, rough with hair, ragged with scars from old battle wounds. 
	Magnus sat up long enough to unbelt his robe and toss it to the floor. When he turned back to her, she gasped, seeing his naked desire. 
	Magnus must have seen her fear, for he smiled and huskily said, "I may hurt you the first time, Tora, but never again, I promise. You were made to be loved by a man." 
	He kissed her again, willing her with his hands and mouth and body to respond to his intimate touches. He pulled her nightgown down off of her shoulders and arms, exposing all her creamy flesh down to her hips. His mouth followed his hands, nibbling her ribs and belly. He raised himself higher again, kissing her mouth as his hand dropped to stroke the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. 
	Tora groaned, a rush of heat flowing between her thighs, and she kissed Magnus with the same fervor as he kissed her. 
	Her hands roamed the hard muscles of his lower back and torso of their own volition. He caught her hand and placed it around his throbbing manhood. She looked up at him in surprise, and he smiled. His hand moved from her inner thigh up into the curly mound of hair between her legs. He moved his fingers slowly, tentatively at first. He slipped a finger into her moist darkness while his thumb continued to gently stroke her, sending shock waves of delight through her.
	Her nails dug into his back and she arched closer to him. The pleasure, the yearning built in her until Tora believed she must shatter from the intense sensation. 
	And in the midst of it all, Magnus stopped touching her. Feeling frustrated and denied, she opened her eyes to find him staring intently at her face. 
	"Do you want me to stop, Tora? Shall I leave you now?" he asked, his voice husky.
	"Yes! No," she said, shuddering. Her father and the people of Loren depended upon her. And, she reluctantly admitted to herself, she wanted to know where his caresses would lead her. He mustn't stop now.
	"Tell me you want me." 
	She dug her fingers more deeply into his shoulders. "I want you," she whispered. Nothing else mattered except that he should continue to make her feel as he had. 
	Apparently satisfied with his victory, Magnus lowered himself over her, parting her slender thighs with his knees. He entered her carefully, gave one quick thrust and then held himself still. Tora cried out and tensed her muscles. He filled her, stretching her until she thought she must break. As the searing pain lessened, she relaxed. Magnus rocked his hips slowly, carefully.
	The sensation building within Tora stunned her. Magnus possessed her totally; he was in her and all around her, making her feel more alive than she ever had before. He strengthened his thrusts, lifted her legs around his hips and plunged deeply into her. The world disappeared as he became her center. She floated on a rising tide, higher and higher until, with her climax, waves of ecstasy crashed through her. 
	She heard soft cries and was shocked to realize they were coming from her. She held her eyes tightly shut as her inner muscles throbbed, trying desperately to hold on to the incredible sensation. Magnus stiffened in her arms. His warm seed spilled within her. He fell upon her, his breathing ragged, his body damp and trembling. 
	Weak and vulnerable as a newborn babe, awed by the powerful sensations rocking her and the knowledge she was now his wife in every sense of the word, Tora didn't move. 	
	Magnus lay heavily upon her until his breathing slowed and evened, then rolled off of her. Without one word, he stood up, gathered up his robe and left her. 
	In the darkness, Tora drew her knees to her chest and hugged them, tears streaming down her cheeks. Magnus had humbled her, made her beg for him to take her and make her his—just as he had said he would. Her lord husband had robbed her of her pride and then had left her as he would his mistress or a whore. Her throat tightened with self-loathing. How easily he had turned her from her resolve to remain aloof!
	She rolled out of bed and fumbled her way across the room. She lowered herself gingerly into the tub, hot tears plopping as they hit the cold bath water. She shivered, but forced herself to remain there until she had scrubbed away the scent of the man who had so thoroughly dominated her. With each coarse stroke against her tender skin, she hardened her heart, determined to remain cool to her lord's touch in the future.

MAGNUS STOOD before the window in his chamber, letting the cool night's breeze wash over his heated body. He leaned against the rough stone windowsill, his eyes gazing out over the empty courtyard bathed in blue light. His thoughts were not on the night, though, but on the woman he had just left. 
	He'd gone to Tora fully expecting to bring her to her knees before him, use her and humble her. And so he had. What he had not expected to see was passion rage in her eyes alongside her pride. Nor had he meant to lose himself to her feminine caresses when she gave herself over into his hands.
	In the gloom of the night, she was no longer his bitter enemy, only a desirable woman whose magical touch turned his burning desire into a blazing inferno. Not even with his beloved Siri, Thor's mother, had he known such heights of pleasure. 
	But as he had regathered his strength, his forehead pressed against her shoulder, reality had come spinning back. He'd remembered with cold anger just who he held beneath him. And he'd left her.
	Now he swore to himself that he would remember every minute of the day the foe he called wife. He would continue to use her and not soften toward her as she held him in her embrace. And the hollow feeling in his chest? He dwelled not upon it.

(bm) Chapter 6

TORA LAY IN bed, knowing she should have gotten up long ago. She dreaded going to the Hall for breakfast. Knowing she would have to face many strangers, she tried to postpone the moment. She placed her hand on her belly, splaying her fingers. She could only pray she would soon beget a son so that she and her father might return to Loren and put this horrible episode behind them as soon as possible. 
	Horrible and exciting, she caught herself thinking as she eased her feet to the cool wooden floor. She stood up, suddenly aware of muscles she hadn't known existed and a delicate soreness between her legs. Though she tried to dismiss them, images of Magnus, his rippling muscles beneath her hands and the feel of him as he took her, filled her mind as she dressed herself. 
	Scowling at her weakness, she cursed the throbbing response that sparked deep within her from merely the memory of what they had done together. Having grown up in the Hall, where couples slept scattered about the floor, she knew from the soft giggling and writhing beneath blankets that people enjoyed coupling, but she had not expected that it could be so pleasurable. And as hard as she had tried to remain reserved, Magnus had seen to it that she had given herself totally to him. Saints be praised! How could she face him today? 
	She did not have to wonder long, because with a sharp rap on the door, Magnus entered her room.
	"Ah, finally have you deemed the hour right to get your lazy backside out of bed," he chided her. 
	Tora blushed at his terse words. "I am not lazy," she answered him, content to keep a wall of anger between them. She stood stalk still as he came to her and tilted her face toward the light from the window, scrutinizing her expression. 
	"You are like a doe tensed and ready to spring at the first sign of danger," he said more quietly.
	Tora would not tell him how right he was about that! Every nerve felt raw and on edge as his discerning gaze assessed her. She was certain that he could see right through her. She licked her lips. "The danger is present. But I will not flee."
	"Your courage is admirable. But I sense uncertainty behind your words. You are perhaps wondering if you pleased me last night, hmm? Do not fret, Tora, you pleased me very well. Gradually, I shall teach you to please me even more." 
	Tora gawked at Magnus. Was there no limit to the man's arrogance? "Of all the self-centered, uncouth things to say! I care naught if I pleased you. Nor will I ever!" She snapped her fingers in his face. Her humiliation as he had left her last night washed over her, blinding her to the fact that she was now in this powerful man's total control. "I will do what I need to do so that my father and I can return home, but no more." 
	Magnus grabbed her arms, pulling her to him. He bent his head and kissed her forcefully, bruising her soft lips against her teeth. 
	"You will do far more than that," he murmured against her lips. "You will serve me, please me. If I have an itch, you will scratch it. If I ache, you will ease it."
	Tora moved her head and bit Magnus hard on his lower lip. With a sharp curse, he jerked his head away, and wiping his hand across his mouth, stared at the blood upon it. He scowled down at her, his icy blue eyes hard and merciless.
	"I need an heir, but I have no desire to bed a waspish, bitter woman. You would do well to please me, if you would save Loren. There are but two ways to spend your time here, Tora. One is to keep me satisfied and live a comfortable and easy life. The other is to defy me and remain locked away in this tiny room. Since you seem to prefer the latter, you may begin your stay at Ringebu here." The door slammed behind a glowering Magnus and Tora found herself alone once more.
	She plopped down on the bed, chewing her lip. She was undecided as to whether this sudden isolation was a blessing or not. On the one hand, she could avoid that awful Maalfrid and the other inhabitants of Ringebu. On the other hand? 
	Tora stood up and made her way to the window. Sighing, she peered out, breathing deeply the warm summer aromas that wafted on the breeze. On the other hand, she was used to activity, physical labor and the freedom to roam as she pleased. To remain caged inside these cramped quarters with nothing to do was likely to drive her mad.
	Tora grimaced. Please that arrogant husband of hers who disdained her so or stay cooped up like a brooding hen. She shook her head. Neither alternative was palatable. She could pretend to please him, just until she could get out of her prison; but ruefully shaking her head, didn't think she could be so deceitful. 
	Maybe he would just give up on her after a while and release her? No, he did not seem the type of man who went back on his word. And what if she could not suppress her anger and frustrations toward him? What if he did as he had threatened and did not couple with her? He could find other women to have a child with, but only she could save Loren.
	The problem would not easily resolved, but she mustered a smile, none the less. At least now she had something with which to keep her mind occupied.

THE DAY DRAGGED, and as the light became mellower outside, Tora wondered if Magnus would appear. At last she heard noises outside her door. To her surprise, two servants brought in an extra bench and platters of food and drink. Without a word, they left her as quietly as they had come. She was just going to try the door, to see if they had forgotten to lock it, when Magnus opened it. 
	Tora started and tried not to look guilty as he stood in the doorway regarding her. She stepped back to allow him to enter and avoided meeting his all-encompassing gaze.
	"Uh, come in," she said stupidly, blushing when she realized the idiocy of inviting him into her chamber when he held the key. He cocked a quizzical eyebrow at her and shut the door firmly behind him. He sat down at a bench and nonchalantly poured himself a cup of beer. Taking hold of a roasted grouse quarter in one hand, he gestured for her to also sit. 
	Hungry after a long day of forced fasting, Tora sat down—as far away from Magnus as she could. Using a crust to scoop up a piece of tender venison from a wooden bowl, Tora munched heartily. She did not waste any time filling herself, every nerve keenly aware of the powerful man sitting nearby. He seemed at ease, but her acute senses cautioned her that just below that calm surface, trouble brewed. She jumped when he spoke.
	"I see you have not suffered overmuch today, your appetite being what it is," Magnus said. The note of amusement in his voice made Tora look over at him. She dabbed her lips delicately on the back of her sleeve. 
	"You forget that you have not fed me since last night."
	"That was remiss of me. You are far too thin as it is."
	Magnus drained his cup and thumped it on the tabletop. She knew he baited her, waiting to see if she would serve him, to please him by inquiring if he would like more beer, and she wouldn't bite. The silence between them was deafening, and the sudden drumming of his fingers on the tabletop made Tora's nerves scream.
	Magnus made a great show of refilling his cup. He leaned back, relaxing against the wall, his eyes narrowed on her face. When he had drained it, he stood up and towered over her. "Take off your clothes." When she hesitated, he continued. "If you don't take off your clothes, I will leave you. You will remain alone here for a fortnight. Dare you waste so much precious time?"
	Tora snapped her mouth shut when she realized how foolish she must look staring at him. He knew as well as she that she could not afford such a loss. Clearing her throat, she stood up, pulled her simple linen gown over her head, and dropped it to the floor beside her. 
	She hesitated again, but when Magnus made an impatient movement with his hand, hurried to remove her blouse. Standing only in her shift, her arms and legs bare to his gaze, she lifted her head and looked him straight in the eye. To her chagrin, Magnus smiled. His voice reached her, soft as a silver knife wrapped in black velvet when he spoke.
	"You do not lack in spirit, I'll give you that." He nodded, reaching for her. "But I've much experience taming spirited animals, Tora, and I will tame you, too. Why don't you be easy on yourself and do as I tell you now, before you regret it." 
	He had just teased a hornet's nest with a stick. Kicking him in the shin, Tora turned and ran for the door, scooping up her dress as she went. To her relief the door opened under her hand, but before she managed to escape through it, Magnus caught her. She cried out in frustration.
	Magnus hauled her back into the room, his hand knotted in her thick tresses. He kicked the heavy door shut with his booted foot, and throwing her over his shoulder, sauntered over to the bed with her. She pummeled his back futilely with her fists and stared upside down at the floor. Here we go again, she thought dismally. 

AND SO TORA'S first week at Ringebu continued. Neither spouse gave in to the other, each too proud and bull-headed to compromise. Tora fought Magnus until she no longer had the strength, or the desire, to continue. He made love to her, domineeringly and demandingly, and left her when he had found his release. 
	Tora got nowhere battling Magnus. He was too strong, too unrelenting, and no matter how determined she was to fight him or ignore him, he caressed and stroked her until her body burned and she must answer his lust with her own. She cursed her weak flesh and prayed for an end to her torment.
	As her seventh day at Ringebu ended, Tora wondered where Magnus was. She jumped up when a rap on the door announced that supper had arrived. Now, he would come. Only it wasn't Magnus, just a single bowl of porridge, lukewarm and unappetizing. She sat down on the bench in a huff. 
	The disappointment that settled upon Tora surprised her. Had she really been looking forward to their regular evening altercation? She stared unhappily down into the bland food, idly stirring it with her wooden spoon. 
	"All right, you've made your point. My life is going to be like a bowl of porridge if I don't cooperate," she mumbled to herself.
	Tora put the bowl down untouched. Closing the shutters to her narrow window, she undressed and crept under the covers of her cold, lonely bed.

THE NEXT DAY, Tora paced her room like a hounded fox. Magnus had not come to her last night. Would he stay away tonight, too—or a fortnight as he had threatened? Tora cursed herself. How foolish she had been! She must not jeopardize her father's life! She stopped at the window to peer outside.
	The day grew warm and sunny, and she longed with every fiber of her body to be outside. She must relent and let Magnus have his way.	
	The hours dragged wearily by. Her pulse quickened when she finally heard Magnus's voice in the corridor. He was coming! She brushed her hair and twisted it up under her white coif. She brushed her smock with her hands, its long folds falling from her bosom to her feet, held in slightly by the silver belt at her waist. She automatically reached to check on her keys, sighing as she remembered she no longer held any. She looked up as the door opened, only to feel a wave of disappointment rush over her. 
	"Come with me, Lady Tora, the jarl demands your company," Aksel said and stood to the side so she could pass him. 	
	Once in the corridor, Tora hesitated. Aksel took her by the elbow and escorted her only a short distance down the hall and stopped at yet another wooden door. He gave it a sharp rap and opened it. He pushed Tora ahead of him, announcing, "Lady Tora, my lord," before closing the door behind him.
	Tora wanted to laugh. Magnus sat scrunched in the same large tub that she had found so luxurious at her last bath. He looked comical, his great length folded upon itself, his knees drawn up to his chest and his broad shoulders high above the edge of the tub. She smiled in amusement, just managing to muffle a laugh behind her hand. It wouldn't do to upset him now, she reminded herself. Bent on keeping her composure, she looked around his room.
	This chamber was four times as large as her own. A wide bed stood against one wall, stacked high with furs and warm blankets. Red dominated the room, heavy woolen drapes in a deep burgundy color hung beside the widest windows Tora had ever seen. She wondered that the wall didn't collapse with so little support about it. A large tapestry depicting a hunting scene draped one large wall. Two large chests were pushed up against another.
	"Something amuses you?" Magnus asked.
	"No, my lord." 
	Tora made her way to the window, her good mood soured by the thought that Magnus lived in such opulence while he kept her in a virtual cell. She folded her arms across her chest and stared at the courtyard below her. He obviously wanted to impress upon her his control over her and that the quality of her life was totally dependent upon how well she met his whims and desires.
	"Tora, come and bathe me." Magnus's low command reached her from across the room. "'Twill be your duty to attend me and keep my clothes and chamber in order." She clenched her hands into tight little fists, but then forced herself to relax. She had made her decision to give in to his wishes. Continuing to fight him would only hurt herself.
	"Would it please you if I bathed you?" Tora asked, turning to regard him.
	"It will," he replied, narrowing his eyes. 
	He was unshaven, and his dark stubble made him look rather brutal, even unarmed and naked as he was. 
	"If I bathe you, will you release me from my room, give me the freedom to go about Ringebu as I will?" 
	He nodded his noble head with no hesitation, and Tora wondered if he hadn't already decided to give her more freedom.
	"Very well," she said, shoulders slumping. Although she would do as he wished, she resented him for making her do so. 
	She reached down to take a cloth from his hand when she spied the bucket of cold water sitting beside the tub. Its purpose to temper the steaming water, it was mostly full. Her heart skipped a beat as a terrible idea came to her. Not taking the time to think about consequences, she picked up the bucket. 
	"I will bathe you," she murmured and dumped the bucket upside down.
	Magnus roared as the cold water splashed over his head and shoulders. He sprang out of the tub in an instant, sloshing water all over the floor, incredibly agile for a man of his proportions. Before Tora could bolt from him, he grabbed her by her wrist and pulled her to him. 
	She stared apprehensively up at him, his eyes sparkling with fury and his teeth bared in a mirthless smile. He crushed her to him, his wet heat soaking her gown, warming her to her very core. He kissed her deeply and at length until she had no breath left and the room spun dizzily. Finally he released her mouth, but kept her tight against his length. Tora trembled at his violence and dared not move.
	"Christ's blood, you are a brash woman!" he exclaimed. "I do not know if you are courageous or just a fool. Have you not yet learned 'twould be better to keep your claws sheathed in my presence?"
	"Yes, you have taught me well, but I did as you asked, did I not? You said that it would please you if I bathed you, and that is what I have done. You must now hold to your end of the bargain and release me from my chamber," she said. 
	Magnus stared at her dumbfounded, then threw his head back and laughed. He bent his head and gave her a short hard kiss. "You did exactly as I asked, only in your own way," he smiled, shaking his head in disbelief. "I can see that I must keep my eye on you. You shall be free to roam Ringebu and take your place among my people. Only, Tora," he said, turning stern, "remember that I will not tolerate such antics from you in front of others."
	Heeding Magnus's warning was easy as he ignored her for the most part. At meals when she sat by his side, he made only polite remarks. Only if they had guests would he deem to turn his noble attentions toward her, and only for propriety sake, she was sure. 
	Only at night, when he would come to her room, did she receive his undivided attention. His lovemaking continued to be rough, as though he satiated his thirst for revenge through his passion with her. Afterwards, he would leave her, physically and emotionally spent, without a final lover's caress or a soft murmur of good-night.
	How awful he is to me, she thought, sitting at the loom. Even when she knew the reason he and his people treated her so coldly, she couldn't help but resent it. She gritted her teeth and the shuttle and heddle bar of the loom virtually flew in her distress. 
	If only she would become pregnant soon! Then it would be only a matter of months before she could return to Loren, far away from Magnus and his hold over her—a hold that grew stronger each time he held her in his passionate embrace.

(bm) Chapter 7

"LOOK AT these pretty flowers, Tora!" 
	Tora set down her berry basket, turned to the little girl by her side and smiled. "Let me see, Cherub. Oh, what a beautiful yellow. And look, if you pinch one here, it will talk to you." Tora squeezed the joint of the wild sweet pea between her thumb and index finger. "I'm so glad Ragnhild picked me and not an ugly old troll!" she said in a high little voice.
	Four-year-old Ragnhild laughed, and Tora gathered her up in her arms and whirled her around. Thank goodness the parents of Ringebu hadn't turned their children from her! They were the only ones who brought her moments of joy and companionship.
	Methodically, Tora had set out to learn the lay of the land at Ringebu, looking to find where the healing herbs and edible fruits and legumes grew. She'd found her way to the river, and after several trips into the forested hillsides, she knew her way about them, too.
	Tora sought solace in the surrounding woods as she always had. As July dipped into August, she picked raspberries and, later, blueberries by the bucketful with little Ragnhild by her side. 
	She smiled at the child's round happy face. "Come, we must go home. 'Tis soon time to sup."
	They brought the fruit back to the manor and laid most of the blueberries out upon clean fabric to dry in the hot August sun. Their sweet summer flavor would bring cheer to folk in the deep dark months of winter, when fresh food was not on hand.
	Tora attended to just such a task one day when the blow of a horn pierced the air. Racing to the yard, she learned that Ragnhild was missing. Her mother, Solveig, was frantic; she had searched everywhere and could not find her. All available hands dropped their work to look for the little girl.
	Just a few days ago, Tora and Ragnhild had strolled through the woods and had stopped at a nearby stream to rest. Ragnhild had been pestering her to take her there again, and she wondered if perhaps the child had decided to go there alone today. 
	She automatically crossed herself. Wood imps and trolls lurked in the shadows, creatures that would snatch a little human girl and carry her away, never to be seen again.
	"Rubbish," she muttered. "Tales to keep children safe by the hearth." None the less, she quickened her pace, a panicky feeling of urgency spurring her on. She should never have taken the child into the woods with her. "Ragnhild!" she called.
	Tora heard Ragnhild's sobbing before she saw her. Ragnhild sat along the bank of the swiftly flowing stream. She held her hand pressed against her thigh as blood seeped through her plump little fingers. Tora rushed to her and dropped by her side.
	"Ragnhild, sweetie, are you bad hurt?" She glanced at the child's pale face before moving her small hand away. Alarm raced through her, but she strove to present the child with a calmness that she did not feel. She soothed Ragnhild as she examined the wound. 
	A sliver of wood as big as Tora's index finger had imbedded itself along the length of the girl's thigh, apparently coming from a rotting log nearby. She dared not remove it here at the stream. The blood seeping from the wound indicated to Tora that if she removed the sliver, the girl would likely bleed more. Tora's lips tightened in a straight line as she considered the chances of this type of wound festering. If it did, it might very well cost Ragnhild her life. 
	Gathering the little girl up in her arms, Tora set off for the manor. Relief flooded her when she caught sight of Magnus combing the woods. "Magnus, over here!" 
	If she had learned nothing else about him, she knew he would soon have the situation in hand. He took the child from her and into his own arms. 
	"How goes it with the child?" 
	Tora was dumbfounded by the concern etched in Magnus's face and how it deepened when she showed him the injury. What had become of the man who always seemed so aloof and hard-hearted? Was his cool, arrogant manner reserved just for her, a facade behind which lay a kinder, gentler man? 
	"Tora?"
	Suddenly aware that she stared at him, Tora focused again on Ragnhild, pushing thoughts about her enigmatic husband away. "We must see to the wound."
	They hiked swiftly back to the manor, Tora jogging to keep up with Magnus's long strides. Upon seeing the child in Magnus's arms, a boy blew a horn, calling all other searchers back. Solveig came rushing out of a barn, her parents, Aksel and Ingeborg, on her heels.
	"Oh, my lord, you have found her!" she cried.
	"No, 'twas not I who found her, but Tora," he corrected. Everyone turned to look at Tora, as if seeing her for the first time. 
	Aksel held out his hand to her. "Our deepest thanks to you, my lady," he said as he took her slim hand into his own rough one. 
	Ingeborg also shook Tora's hand, gratitude shimmering in the older woman's faded blue eyes. Solveig took Ragnhild from Magnus and held her tightly to her bosom.
	"We must see to her wound," Tora said to Solveig, her hand smoothing a lock of hair from Ragnhild's face. "'Twill be difficult to clean. I know of a strong poultice we can use to prevent festering and—"
	"I know what to do," Maalfrid declared. 
	By now Tora should have been used to Maalfrid, but the depth of the older woman's enmity still startled her. "Give the child to me; I shall attend to her wound as I do all injuries at Ringebu." 
	Tora glanced up at Magnus, to see if he had noticed the housekeeper's rudeness to her, but he was already deep in conversation with one of his men, apparently content to turn over the responsibility of the child to the women.
	Later that evening, Tora went to check on Ragnhild where she lay next to her mother on a pallet in the loft of the old Hall. She did not trust Maalfrid and wanted to assure herself that Ragnhild's wound had been taken care of properly. Solveig was of a different mind.
	"No, I shall not wake her, now that she is sleeping. Maalfrid has cleaned the wound. I thank you for your concern, but we can take care of our own here," she said stiffly. 
	Tora could see from Solveig's guarded expression that she did not want to be beholden to her, nor did the woman trust her. She nodded and sighed, then returned to her room for the night. She slept fitfully though, her restless dreams revolving around little Ragnhild. 

TWO DAYS LATER, Tora went to check on Ragnhild again. She had expected to see the little girl romping around as usual about the manor, but had not. She decided she would insist upon examining the wound, if the child was not better.
	Tora was shocked when she entered the loft and found Ragnhild buried under furs, her little face white except for a burning red spot in each cheek. She put her hand on the child's forehead. Hot and dry. The girl lay with a high fever.
	Tora didn't stop to think. She threw back the furs and drew up Ragnhild's gown to examine the injury. She peeled away the dirty linen, stopping to dampen it where matter had meshed to the child's skin. She gasped when she saw the inflamed sore, the area swollen and purulent. Slivers of wood remained under the skin. 
	Tora did not understand. Maalfrid's hostility toward her aside, she was certain the woman was experienced in healing and would have done her best for Ragnhild. This wound was difficult, but how could Maalfrid have done such a poor job of cleaning it? Tora concentrated for a moment on Maalfrid. The woman ran the Ringebu household with an iron hand, giving directions left and right. She never seemed to rest...An image popped into Tora's head. She, Maalfrid and a few others sat close to the hearth, sewing.
	"Where is that needle? Heaven above!" Maalfrid squinted and patted her hand across the table next to her. "Berta, get me a new needle!"
	Was Maalfrid's eyesight failing her? Tora thrust her questions aside to tend to the important matter at hand. She mentally ran through a list of ingredients she would need to properly clean the festering wound and take care of little Ragnhild's fever when Solveig and Maalfrid entered the room.
	"What are you about, here where you have no business? I am tending Ragnhild," Maalfrid said, her eyes blazing.
	"You are killing her, that's what you are doing! Look at this wound, it has gone completely bad!"
	"Away with you," Maalfrid said through clenched teeth. "You are not wanted here. I take care of the people here and you shall not interfere." 
	Tora expected Solveig to protest Maalfrid's ability to properly care for her daughter, but none came. Probably afraid to stand up against the old hag. Tora fought to control her temper. 
	"You are no longer in charge of Ragnhild," she commanded, raising her chin and throwing every bit of authority she could muster into her voice. She was not mistress of Loren for nothing. "I am taking over her care. Leave me now." She glanced at Solveig. "Solveig, you shall remain here to help me. We must stop the poison which is making Ragnhild so ill." 
	Maalfrid pursed her lips and looked as if about to protest before she abruptly turned and left. Tora gave Solveig detailed instructions as to which herbs and other ingredients she needed to make a poultice for the wound. 
	Solveig had just left when a frowning Magnus and a vindictive Maalfrid entered.
	"Maalfrid has taken care of the people of Ringebu for the last twenty years, Tora. You will not interfere in her work."
	Tora ignored him. "You cannot see as well as you used to, can you Maalfrid," she stated. "That's why you didn't clean Ragnhild's wound as you should."
	The woman looked away. "I see fine."
	Tora knew Maalfrid lied, but thought she thrived too much on control to retire from her position as housekeeper without a fight. She was getting nowhere in her fight for Ragnhild's life.
	"Magnus, Ragnhild's wound is festering. Maalfrid has not cleaned it properly. If I do not treat it now, she will likely die." 
	Not a muscle twitched in Magnus's stern face. 
	Tora grew desperate. She had to make him see she had the skills to save Ragnhild's life. "Please, Magnus, let me speak to you alone for a few moments." 
	Magnus frowned as he peered down at her, and then without taking his eyes off of her, he waved his hand, motioning Maalfrid to leave them.
	"I shall wait directly outside, my lord," Maalfrid said through tight lips. "Beware!" she hissed as she brushed past Tora. Her glare would have chilled Tora to the bone if her concern for Ragnhild had been less.
	Tora took Magnus by the hand and led him to the child's pallet. She showed him the wound and explained to him what she would do, but he remained skeptical and unconvinced. Desperately, she grabbed his large hand with both of hers and beseeched him to understand.
	"Magnus, please, look beyond your malice toward me and see the little child lying here. Maalfrid's growing old, her sight now too poor to help Ragnhild. 
	"I know not for certain that I can rid her of the poison which is draining her of life, but you must let me try. Please do not let this innocent child die because of your hatred for me."
	Tora watched him as he looked from her to the sick child. His free hand caressed Ragnhild's cheek, his frown deepening as he felt her heat. Tora knew Magnus wanted to keep her in her place as his bedmate, her only purpose to give him an heir. But would he let an innocent child suffer because of his plans for her? Long moments passed before Magnus spoke.
	"Very well," he said, his gaze not leaving the sick child. "I place you in complete charge of her care, Tora. God have mercy on you if she should die." 
	With those ominous words, Magnus left. Tora stared down at Ragnhild as the possible ramifications of failure bore down upon her. No one here would understand or forgive her if the little girl should die. Her death would seal Tora's fate and extinguish any minute chance she had to ever be accepted among Ringebu's people.
	A small whimper brought Tora back to the task at hand. No use worrying about the future. She'd asked for this challenge and there was no turning back, no time to waste. Taking a clean sharp knife, she slit open the pocket the wood sliver had made in the girl's thigh. She spread the skin apart and sluiced it with clean water, using a cloth to wipe away wood fragments and matter. Ragnhild moaned a little in her fever sleep, but did not awaken during Tora's gentle ministrations. Tora nodded to herself in satisfaction. The wound remained red and swollen, but it was clean. 
	Solveig sat at a little brazier where she cooked the poultice Tora had blended. "But will this not burn her?" she asked.
	"It may," Tora replied, "but a burn is far less serious than her illness, Solveig. We must do whatever we can to draw out the poison and bring down her fever." 
	Tora took a clean cloth and painted a section of it with a thick layer of the poultice. She applied it over Ragnhild's wound and bound it tightly about her leg. Ragnhild moaned and whimpered in her sleep, but then fell quiet.
	"Now we must try to cool her fever. The only thing we can do while she is insensible is to mop her face with a cool cloth, and wait. I will begin doing that while you try to sleep, Solveig. Later, I will wake you so that we may change places." 
	The lateness of the hour surprised Tora. The hours had slipped by as she ministered Ragnhild. She wondered how Magnus would react to her absence, but smiled, thinking it would do him good. 
	Tora did not have the courage to wake the exhausted young mother as the night grew long. She knew in her heart of hearts that Solveig had probably not rested well since Ragnhild's disappearance. Ignoring the aching muscles between her shoulders and neck, she continued to cool Ragnhild's forehead, bathe the child's arms and legs and change the poultice twice more.
	The new day brought with it a lessening of Ragnhild's fever, but Tora stayed determinedly by her side all day, now and then easing sips of soothing tea down the child's parched throat. Late in the evening, completely exhausted, Tora fell asleep, curled on her side, her arms wrapped around her chest. 

MAGNUS ENTERED the dim loft, impatient to have Tora back in his bed, her attentions devoted only to him. He discovered, to his chagrin, that he missed her. He found Tora and Ragnhild asleep, curled side by side. Tora looked exhausted and in need of this sleep and his selfish thoughts shamed him.
	"How goes it with the child?" he asked Solveig.
	"She is better, my lord." 
	Magnus gazed down at the sleeping Tora, her face relaxed and peaceful, unaware of his presence. So young and vulnerable, he thought suddenly, so unlike the bristling woman always on her guard when in my presence. A stranger among strangers, her life turned upside down by him, and yet she held her head high, tackling every difficult situation thrown at her with fierce determination and courage. 
	Solveig coughed and looked at her feet. "I fear I have done my lady a great injustice, my lord. I have been rude and unfriendly to her, and she has shown me only kindness and goodness of heart."  
	Magnus frowned. "Perhaps, we all have," he whispered so that even Solveig didn't hear him.

TORA AWOKE later and ministered to Ragnhild throughout the night, finally nodding off to sleep before daybreak. She did not awaken to Solveig's excited voice until the woman shook her. 
	"Tora, my lady, awaken! Look!"
	She turned startled eyes to Solveig, then to Ragnhild and gave a great sigh of relief. The young child smiled weakly up at her, her eyes bright and clear, a healthy bloom to her cheeks.
	"Mama, I'm hungry," Ragnhild complained. Solveig laughed out loud, hugged Tora and ran to spread the happy news of Ragnhild's recovery. Among the people who stopped to see Ragnhild were Aksel and Ingeborg.
	"My lady," Ingeborg said, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "We shall forever be in your debt for saving our Ragnhild."
	Aksel nodded his agreement, taking Tora's hand and bowing over it. "Thank you, my lady," he said, his voice deep with emotion. 
	Tora smiled and nodded, but left them then, their formality making her feel like an outsider again. The muscles of her back were tight from her hours spent on the floor next to Ragnhild and she flexed her spine to relieve them. She had slept and eaten little these past days and suddenly realized that she too was hungry. On shaky legs, she headed toward the kitchen.
	Magnus sat outside in the clear light of a new morning, apparently waiting for her. "Have you managed to save the little girl, then?" he asked, looking up at her. 
	His concern for the child surprised Tora again. "I have," she answered, unsure of how to interpret the emotion shining in his eyes. They were soft and held a glint of—she sucked in a breath—could it be admiration? 
	"'Twas a great chance you took. Your life here would have been very miserable if she had died."
	"My life here is already miserable, my lord," she said, looking her husband straight in the eye. "Besides," she shrugged, "I had no choice. I could not stand by and let the child suffer."
	Magnus said nothing for a moment, seeming to mull over her heated statement as he held her gaze. Was it regret, or the tiniest sign of guilt that she saw there? He took her hand and drew her down until she knelt before him.
	"As a token of my gratitude for saving the life of one of my people," he said, "I give you this." From his arm he removed a wide gold band etched with runes. Shoving her sleeve up to her elbow, he placed it on her wrist, bending it around until it formed a bracelet. 
	Tora stared at his tanned callused hand upon her arm and the bracelet gleaming against her alabaster skin. Such a contrary thing—the feel of the heavy, warm metal against her skin reminded her of a shackle binding her to Magnus, and yet it was also the first thing of value he had given her and represented a degree of independence. She kept her head bowed so he could not see her face or the tears that she blinked away. She suddenly found that she wished he had given her the bracelet out of affection for her, and not as a debt of gratitude.

(bm) Chapter 8

TORA SHIVERED and goose bumps pimpled her skin as she stepped tentatively into the tarn. Bathing outdoors would soon become unbearable. When the water reached the curve of her hips, she sucked in a breath and forced herself to squat down till it reached her chin. Her breasts shone like white globes just below the surface as she raised her arms to release her hair from its braid and thoroughly wet its golden length. Standing up, she washed her hair and then her body. 
	As she rubbed the soap across her smooth flesh, she closed her eyes, and her thoughts drifted to Magnus. His changing moods confused her. Dealing with him would be easier if he were always cold to her. She would know what to expect and could better guard her feelings against him. But his facade cracked at times. She would catch a glimmer of the kind gentle man he could be and her resistance wavered. 
	Not more than a few days had passed since he'd shaken her to the very core of her self. She'd sat by the sunlit window in his chamber as she mended his tunic, her attention on the three leather-bound books placed in a narrow recess in the wall. 
	Forgetting her sewing, she reached out and ran a tentative finger along the books' spines. She drew a deep breath, bit her lip and removed one from the shelf. She dared not open the silver buckle that held it shut; such a priceless object was virtually impossible to replace. Odde Priest read from one in church, but Tora had never before held a book in her hands. That written symbols could tell a story or share information without spoken words intrigued her.
	"You have no business handling his lordship's books," a woman's voice snapped. 
	Tora whirled, nearly dropping the book. Another confrontation with Maalfrid, she thought sourly, spying the woman standing stiffly in the doorway. Only the old bat didn't scare her anymore. Pity filled her for the bitter woman who seemed to think her a threat. Maalfrid's fear was misplaced; time was her enemy.
	Tora drew herself up to her full height and tilted her chin in the air. "I shall do as I please. This is my husband's house, and he has not forbidden me his books." 
	Magnus stepped past Maalfrid into the chamber. Tora stiffened, heat rushing to her cheeks, like a naughty child caught in the act. She hoped he hadn't overheard her haughtiness with Maalfrid, or if he had, that he would not make her look foolish in front of the severe housekeeper.
	"Maalfrid, you will remember Tora is my wife and is due all the respect and consideration that position entitles. When you are disrespectful to her, you are disrespectful to me. Do not make it necessary for me to remind you again," he said. 
	Maalfrid curtsied. "I beg your pardon, my lord," she said.
	"Beg it from Tora," he answered. 
	Maalfrid hesitated. The idea of apologizing to Tora clearly appalled her, but it would be foolhardy to defy the jarl. She had no desire to further jeopardize her position of power within his household, Tora was certain of that. 
	Maalfrid turned reluctantly to her, bowed her head and dropped her a curtsy. "Beg your pardon, my lady," she mumbled, keeping her head down. She turned then and fled the room.
	Tora stood awkwardly silent, staring at the book in her hands. Magnus had never defended her before, and his words warmed her heart. 
	"Thank you, Magnus. I didn't mean to cause any trouble. I hope I haven't..." She shrugged and smiled up at him, handing him the book.
	He turned it over in his hands and peered at her. "You cannot read, can you, Tora?" he asked. 
	"No, that I cannot," she replied. "Would you show me your books, Magnus?" 
	He shrugged, then drew her into the light of the window. Magnus undid the buckle and opened the book before him. Tora ran her fingers across the fibrous pages, lightly tracing the letters beneath them.
	"This is a book of mathematics, Tora. A book of calculus, geometry and physics from Italy. I spent two years in the south of Europe as a student." 
	Hearing the animation in his voice, Tora looked up to gaze at Magnus's face. The light through the window drew planes of shadow and light, emphasizing his straight, narrow nose, the flatness of his high cheekbones and the boldness of his jaw. Silver streaks flashed in his clear blue eyes in his enthusiasm. She felt tiny and helpless next to his towering strength, and yet thrilled by his manliness. The pride that surged through her surprised her. How absurd that she should feel that way.
	"Calculus?" Tora repeated, as if tasting the word. 
	"Far south at the Mediterranean Sea it is warm, and people lead easy lives. They have much more time to spend contemplating the workings of the world than we do. They are far more advanced in many ways than we are, for example in building methods." Magnus idly turned pages in the book. "But I bore you. Most women are not interested in such things."
	"But I am." His friendly and open manner cheered her. Like a starving beggar she eagerly encouraged him to give more. "I had no idea there was so much knowledge in the world," she murmured, taking the book from him and sitting with it in her lap. She traced delicate fingers across the parchment pages and turned hopeful eyes to him, catching him smiling at her.
	"Magnus, would you teach me to read?" she ventured, smiling back. The way he looked at her, handsome and gentle, relaxed in her company—her pulse quickened in unexpected pleasure. 
	But the pounding of her heart turned to a dull thud as she watched his indulgent smile waver and disappear. His face hardened into stern lines. What had she done to anger him, she wondered in a flurry of panic?
	Magnus grabbed the book from her willing hands and snapped it shut. Making his way over to the recess in the wall, he said, "It should have been my son I taught." 
	Tora sat still, disappointment and hurt coursing through her. She watched dismally as Magnus left the room, hearing in his strident footfalls the ring of recrimination.
	She gazed down at her empty hands, which trembled in her lap. She believed they had shared a few moments of camaraderie, but Magnus's sudden aloofness left her wondering if she had only imagined it. 
	She shivered. The ghost of young Thor hung heavily about her, the image of her father, broken and dishonored with him. Would they never leave her in peace? 
	Would she ever break through Magnus's shell of hurt and disdain and find herself wrapped in the arms of a gentle, caring man, Tora wondered as she bathed. In her fantasy, he came to her as warm as the sun on her back. He kissed her gently and protectively, cherishing her as if she were a delicate chalice and would shatter if handled roughly. As she soaped her limbs, she imagined his hands roaming her body, stroking her breasts, her belly and lower, between her legs. 
	Tora's eyes flew open. She must stop this nonsense! She shouldn't want him to act that way, not with their temporary union. But deep inside her, she believed she might. But he would never make love to her with such tenderness. There were too many hard feelings between them, too much bitterness and sorrow. 
	Heat burned in her belly just from thinking about their love-making. She plunged herself down into the cool water. Idiot, she scolded herself. She briskly rinsed herself and turned to go back to where her clothes were lying on the bank.
	Only her clothes weren't there anymore. To her chagrin, they were being held up in one hand by Magnus. He grinned at her, the desire in his eyes reaching her as clearly as if he touched her. Tora backed up a step and covered her breasts with her arms. 
	"How long have you been standing there?" she demanded.
	"Long enough," he replied silkily. "You are very beautiful, Tora, with the sunlight caressing your limbs. Come to me. I will help you dress."
	"You will do no such thing!" she cried. "Put my clothes down and turn your back!"
	"Tsk, tsk," he said mocking her. "I had no idea that you were such a prude. Come out before you catch a chill."
	Tora stayed in the water, shivering. Her teeth chattered. He had never seen her naked in bright sunlight, and she found to her chagrin that she felt shy in front of him.
	"Do I have to come in there and get you?" he asked. "My return to the manor would be delayed, but I expect you could make up for it," he taunted, a wicked gleam in his eye. 
	Tora shivered, and not completely from the chill water, as she watched his sensuous mouth curve up into a lazy smile. He made a motion to remove his tunic.
	"Ooh, you wretched man! How I hate you!" Tora watched Magnus, considering her options. There weren't many, she realized. Either he would come to her and she would find herself naked in his arms in the cold water, or she would find herself in the same situation on dry land. With an angry shriek, she began picking her way out of the water. 
	"You remind me of the crane, Tora, that beautiful and impressive bird, with its long legs and its tall, slender neck. It always moves with grace and dignity." Magnus's deep voice caressed her like the softest touch.
	Oh, so smooth his speech could be, she thought, feeling the blood rush up her throat to color her cheeks.
	"No, you are more like the red-necked swimmer-snipe," he observed at her rising color. 
	Tora imagined the bold, lively bird. She snorted. "You refer, I presume, to the fact that after laying its eggs, the female roams about, unconcernedly without bothering any more about her young, leaving the care of her offspring to the male?" 
	Magnus eyes narrowed at her biting reference to their marital arrangement. "Sarcasm doesn't become you, Tora," he admonished. 
	"Then I shall use it more often," she quipped. "Well, you've gotten your way, now give me my clothes!" She approached Magnus and reached for her gown.
	He whipped her garments behind his back, his eyes daring her to take them from him. "'Tis very tempting to keep them," he said, his voice rumbling with laughter. He grinned at her. "You look angry enough to kill me with the daggers in your eyes! I am glad you are not a man, Tora. Especially at a time like this," he added. His gleaming eyes admired her feminine curves. 
	A warm tingling built deep within Tora's belly and spread under his caressing eyes.
	He held out her clothes to her, but then grabbed her when she reached for them. He drew her to him, holding her cool, wet body against his hard warm masculine one. He kissed her deeply and at length, leaving her breathless and trembling. He released her and loosened his clothing. Tora shivered, every nerve poised to flee, but Magnus's steady gaze kept her mesmerized. He drew her down onto the bank with him.
	"I should have taken you out here before. The sunlight makes your skin glow as it caresses the curve of your breasts and hips," he murmured in appreciation. His hands and mouth followed the path of the sun and soon Tora lay quivering, her hands clutching his shoulders as he brought her expertly to that exquisite edge of supreme pleasure.
	He raised himself up on an elbow, his hand replacing his warm mouth. "Tell me how this makes you feel."
	"Magnus, please...."
	"Tell me."
	"I...I ache. I want...please, Magnus." 
	Magnus stared intently at her face as she arched her neck, and smiled as small cries escaped her lips as he gave her the release she sought. 
	"Why do you watch me so?" she whispered afterwards. She looked away from his piercing gaze. 
	"I see the true woman then, watch your brittle shell shatter beneath my hand," he whispered, moving on top of her. 
	Tora tried to avert her face, not wanting him to see her need for him, but he planted his hands on either side of her face, holding her still. She thrilled to the feeling of him filling her, stretching her as she met each forceful thrust with a welcoming one of her own.
	"Look at me, Tora, look at me."
	She couldn't resist and opened her eyes. She watched him, too, his face intense and vulnerable as he found his own release. He fell upon her, panting, and she smiled. She had the power to shatter him, too.

(bm) Chapter 9

Sverresborg Castle, Bergen, Norway
Fall, 1239
	
"YOUR HIGHNESS, a messenger!" A page's voice rang through the Great Hall.
	"Very well," called King Haakon. He sat up straighter in his chair and wrapped his robe about his solid frame, his broad face frowning. A messenger at this time of night could only mean something was amiss. A man approached with weary steps, his clothes grimy and his face anxious.
	Haakon rose to his feet without effort, but flexed his muscles as if to readjust the kingly burden he bore. "What news?"
	"Sire, I have spent the week dodging dissident Vårbelgs to reach you. 'Tis Skule Baardsson, Sire. He assembled the Øreting and has proclaimed himself king of Norway!"	
	King Haakon dropped into his chair as if he had been dealt a physical blow. Damn the man! Had he gone mad? This was treason! Forcing anger and disappointment from his voice, he said, as if to himself, "God be praised that I now know the situation from this day on, for that which has now come to light has most certainly long been planned." 	
	He made his way with heavy steps to the queen's chambers. A truce had been declared between himself and his ambitious father-in-law; the archbishop himself had declared it and had damned any who would break it. Now Skule had forced his hand.
	Lights still burned when the king entered his wife's chamber. His task troubled him. So many years he had tried to assuage Skule's avarice and make him content. 
	Haakon's very existence spawned their conflict. Born out of wedlock following the death of his father King Haakon Sverresson, Haakon's claim to the throne of Norway had been secured by his father's and grandfather's loyal men—the Birkebeiners. 
	Inge Baardsson was chosen as king upon King Haakon Sverresson's death. When Haakon's existence was made known, he was placed under the guardianship of King Inge, half-brother of Skule Baardsson. 
	When King Inge became ill and died, Skule determined that he himself should be king. But Haakon's allies were too powerful, and he was chosen over Skule and all other pretenders as the rightful heir to the Norwegian thrown. 
	Even so, Skule was declared young Haakon's guardian and was the real power behind the throne until Haakon came of age. Skule nurtured his discontentment as he watched his power dwindle as the boy-king grew. In a maneuver to strengthen his position, he married his daughter, Margrete, to Haakon. 
	But Skule was never satisfied. He created trouble for Haakon with the one uprising after the other. 
	Haakon had done what he could to keep the peace.	Lands, titles, income, nothing had appeased his father-in-law's thirst for power. In this, he had failed. He knew now that Skule would have to be stopped—permanently. 
	The queen stood by her bed, clad in silk. The firelight accentuated the red tones that glowed within her hair and her eyes flashed with pleasure at the sight of Haakon. 
	Haakon watched her closely as her hand slid to her throat as he approached her. He had never been able to hide anything from her. Already she had guessed that something was wrong. She threw a cloak about her shoulders and greeted him.
	"Good evening, Sire. You honor me with your presence." The alarm in her face belied her calm words.
	"Good evening, my dear. Are you well?" 
	She did not answer, but took a silk pillow and set it beside her. "Please, husband, be seated." 
	Haakon shook his head and remained standing. 
	"Have you had any news?" she inquired, this time a slight quiver in her voice.
	He shrugged, the tip of his finger idly tracing the deep carvings of her bedpost. There was but one way to tell her. His gaze locked to hers. "Nothing greater than that there are now two kings in Norway."
	The queen drew in a sharp breath and vehemently shook her head. "No! 'Tis not possible. Only one is the rightful king, and that is you. God and St. Olav grant that it may always be thus!" 
	Her answer did not surprise Haakon; she had always held him in affection and clung to him with great tenderness, even when her father clearly defied her husband's rule. And now Skule had turned traitor and become his enemy. 
	"Skule has proclaimed himself king, making null and void the oaths we have given each other as noblemen and kinsmen." His voice sounded thick and harsh in his ears.
	"Things must still be better than that," she said. "Believe it not, for God's sake, until you have received full assurance." Then her rigid composure failed her. She burst into tears and could say no more. Haakon sat beside her and embraced her, rocking her gently back and forth.
	"Wife, be of good cheer. We have long known this catastrophe might strike us. I will do what I must do to protect this land from upsurgence, but be assured that you shall not suffer for your father's misconduct." 
	Haakon stayed with Margrete, but he lay awake all night, brooding over the inevitable part he must play in the destruction of his father-in-law. He called Mass to be said at first light, and then summoned his counselors. 
	The messenger retold the news he had brought. The counsel decided to send war-bulletins both north and south from Bergen and to call to Bergen half the soldiers of the land.


SKULE BAARDSSON listened to his councilmen in Trondheim, his long lean legs stretched out before him, his back against the table about which they all sat, his gaze fastened on nothing in particular. 
	"I would advise, my lord Duke, that you assemble all your men and that we sail south to Bergen directly to conquer Haakon—before he has a chance to find out about your proclamation as king or has time to gather his strength," one of Skule's most faithful followers advised.
	"'Tis a poor season to begin a war. Abide awhile here in Trondheim—until spring comes and war is more amenable," advised another. Skule snorted. He turned and glared at the fool who had dared to utter these effeminate words.
	"I have not come this far by sitting on my hands, waiting for things to be easy. Action must be taken—and soon!"
	"What say you, my lord Duke, to sending your forces in all directions—to destroy all the king's men they come across? Strike now, and strike hard as they are isolated at their farms and holdings. You can weaken the king greatly before he has time to act."
	Skule swivelled to gaze at this last speaker. He nodded, his hair falling forward to half hide his face. He appreciated intelligence and cunning. He straightened and turned to face his council fully.
	"Yes. That strategy is more to my liking. Send men to the north, many hundreds to The Highlands, and others south. We shall crush Haakon's forces before he even knows it!"

(bm) Chapter 10 

Ringebu, Late Fall, 1239
	
LEAVES OF GOLD blanketed the frosty ground when Eirik Scald came to Ringebu. The cooks rushed to prepare a feast as word was sent to neighboring farms that the scald had arrived. The air virtually vibrated with anticipation and Tora could not suppress her excitement.
	"I have heard that Eirik the Scald is hailed as one of the best story tellers in Norway," Tora said to Solveig. 
	After saving Ragnhild, Tora was relieved to find her life took a turn for the better. People who had previously ignored her now nodded to her in greeting or spoke a friendly word with her. She found a friend in Solveig, and the two young women spent many hours each day together. 
	"Yes," Solveig replied. "Eirik travels the land from manor to manor, delighting people with his tales and bringing bits of news from far away. 'Twill be a night to remember, I promise you." 
	Tora returned her smile and the two laughed as Ragnhild peeped at them from under the bench. The little girl had not wandered again, choosing to remain close to her mother or Tora.
	Tora's heart warmed as she regarded the young child. Yet the thought of a child of her own made her heart ache. Magnus would rid himself of her as soon as a son was born, and she would leave, not knowing the joys of being a mother. Tears pricked Tora's eyes. And like her, her son would never know his mother's warm embrace. Would he mourn her, long for her comfort as she had her mother?
	How would she feel about turning her back on her own babe— her own flesh and blood? Could she manage without leaving her heart at Ringebu? She didn't think so, but decided that when she became with child she would try to ignore the baby growing inside her. 
	She would go about her business and pretend it didn't exist. Many women did that, after all. So many babies died before they reached the age of two that many mothers strove not to love them, rather than suffer wrenching agony upon losing them. Not that they weren't warm and nurturing, she amended herself, but still.... 
	What if she bore Magnus a daughter? Perhaps he would let her take a daughter with her when she was freed from him? She brightened. A daughter to care for and love, who would love her, too. A child who would remind her of Jarl Magnus every minute of the day, a daughter sealing her father's execution. Her throat tightened and she swallowed hard. No child, or a daughter, and Oddvar's life would be lost. Please give me a son, she prayed.

THROUGHOUT THE next day people arrived randomly at Ringebu in small groups and large. The Great Hall reverberated with the din of many voices as guests jovially greeted one another and beer flowed as freely as the conversations.
	Gone were the brown and gray smocks of everyday clothes. Linen and wool kirtles, dyed green, blue and red, brightened the Hall, many with fine embroidery stitched across the bodice or hem. Those who had no colorful garments added belts and scarves to brighten their costumes. Children's rosy cheeks glowed with excitement and a fresh scrubbing.
	Tora donned the dress she wore to church on Sundays, refusing to ever wear her wedding gown again. Magnus's gold bracelet flashed as she neatly coiled her hair about her head before placing a starched, white coif which rose like a crown above her forehead, leaving the back of her head and slim neck exposed. When she entered the Hall, a rush of warm damp air met her, heady with the scents of beer, woodsmoke and the fresh rushes that covered the floor.
	"Tora, I would like to introduce you to Ringebu's favorite scald," Magnus smiled, taking her arm and drawing her near. "Eirik Skald, Lady Tora."
	"It is indeed an honor, m'lady," Eirik murmured as he bent over her hand. He was a little man, his clothes homespun, yet neat and tidy. His blond hair floated freely about his shoulders and a close-clipped beard gave him an aristocratic look. His eyes fascinated Tora. They were green as forest moss and twinkled with intelligence and good humor. 
	She could not help but smile at him. "I look forward to your stories, sir."
	When the platters of food were finally waved away and the only sound in the Hall was an occasional belch or satisfied groan, heads turned expectantly toward Eirik Scald. Magnus took this as his cue and stood, wine goblet in hand.
	"'Tis two years since we have had the honor of a visit by Eirik Scald. 'Tis good reason to celebrate. And now that our bellies are full and our thirst is quenched, we can sit back and enjoy the tales he tells with such eloquence." 
	Eirik grabbed a stool and placed it in the middle of the room to recount the tale of King Haakon's dramatic escape from his enemies as a child. Everyone at Ringebu had heard the tale, but it was a favorite one about their beloved king.
	"The knowledge of Haakon's birth was kept secret for nigh on a year, to protect him from the plotting Bagler chieftains,"  Eirik began. "But news spread like blood pumping from a fatal wound and suddenly the boy-king's life was in peril." 
	The scald stood and met each gaze with his own as he roamed the room. His face was intense, his eyes gleamed, his body hunched over as if he held the heir to the throne protectively to his bosom. The lamplight flickered, casting eerie shadows about the room, adding to the sense of danger. Tora shivered as his gaze caught hers.
	"'Tis many a wayfarer who's lost his life upon the frozen and unyielding passes of the Dovre mountains. Our good King Haakon, yet but a weanling, fled for his life in the arms of his mother, the threat of enemies at his heels, the promise of the cruel and perilous Dovre ahead."
	Tora wrapped her arms about her waist as she sat, imagining the sting of the whipping snow in their faces as the gray shadows of men bent against the blinding whiteness. She could almost hear their muffled shouts against the howling wind and feel the bitter cold and fear of the small party as they fled through a relentless snowstorm.
	Ingeborg leaned over Tora to refill her cup and said softly, "The Highland Jarl played an important role in this trip, as guide for the wee king. Had it not been for his courage and fortitude, they might never have survived the long trip to the safety of Trondheim."
	Tora looked up from her wine goblet. "Was that your father, Magnus?" 
	"Yes."
	"Alas, they lost their way," Eirik continued. "Caught in a blinding snowstorm, they traveled as quickly as they could, but found no settlement. They were beginning to lose hope, when Lord Ringebu shouted.
	"'Twas only an isolated shed he found, but at least they could get in out of the storm. There, they built a fire and prepared a bed for the child. They had nothing for the wee babe, either, except melted snow to drink.
	"Their journey continued to be difficult, but the people of the Highlands helped them in every way; lending them horses or supplies and guiding them through their area. Upon their arrival in Trondheim, the Birkebeiners took young Haakon to King Inge Baardsson, who reared him, and acknowledged him as the son of Haakon Sverresson, and the rightful heir to the Norwegian throne."
	The crowd cheered. The men banged their fists and cups on the benches and hailed King Haakon and Eirik for his storytelling. Before long Eirik held every listener captivated again as he wove tales of love, bravery and adventure.
	"Oh, Magnus, is he not wonderful?" Tora exclaimed.
	Magnus watched Tora laughing. Her blue eyes danced, her face animated by her delight. Her rich laugh floated about him like the merry tinkling of small brass bells as she joined in the amusement of the scald's outlandish tales. He realized this was the first time he had heard her laugh and found himself wishing very much that she would smile for him alone. 
	But then she turned her head and he dismissed the thought with a distasteful curl of his lip. The slant of her nose and the curve of her chin reminded him abruptly of her treacherous father, and the ache in his heart for Thor erupted into throbbing pain.
	Tora felt Magnus's gaze upon her. She impulsively reached out to squeeze his hand, wanting to share her good cheer with him, but stopped in mid-motion. His stern expression caused her to draw back. As she met his cool stare, her smile wavered and her cheer settled in her gut like poorly cooked game. 
	Unsettled by his erratic changes of mood, she tried to ignore him and, tilting her nose in the air, turned back to listen. But it was no use. She found that she could no longer enjoy herself, not with her husband darkly brooding by her side. It was a night to remember, for all the wrong reasons.


(bm) Chapter 11

PEACE REIGNED at Ringebu, despite the uneasy talk and news of unrest elsewhere. Evil deeds seemed far away, indeed, as the sun shone brightly in a pale blue sky and cast clear, crisp light over the manor yard.
	Tora drew in a deep breath, enjoying the cool fresh air tinged with hints of winter as she made her way to the Great Hall with a large wooden trencher full of steaming porridge for Ringebu's communal breakfast. 
	She halted as a man suddenly came riding into the yard. He swung down from his saddle with great flair and swept her a deep bow. He wore fine clothes, but not of this district, she noted. He smiled and his green eyes sparkled so with mischief that she could not help but smile in return.
	"Now who can this sweet girl be who graces such a woeful place with her great beauty and soft charms," he said. His gaze swept her from top to toe. He grabbed her about her waist, nearly upsetting the huge trencher of porridge. Tora gave a little whoop, holding the trencher up high, and her laughter filled the morning air. 
	"Sir, you are a...scoundrel," she declared in a chiding yet playful tone. She regarded him curiously, forgiving his lack of manners as he smiled at her again. "Would you ruin breakfast?" 
	"I would never deem to ruin such a sweet girl's porridge." He winked.
	Tora blushed, but smiled at his jest. His laughing eyes and teasing smile drew her to him as a moth to a flame. Joy and mischief exuded from this man that relieved her burdened heart like a cool cloth to a fevered brow. Was there not something familiar about him, in the shape of his eyes, or the line of his jaw? 	"Allow me to introduce myself—"
	"Take your hands off my wife," Magnus said in a razor-sharp tone, approaching the two. 
	Tora didn't know how long Magnus had been watching, but his face darkened like thunder, his hands clenched. Her smile faded. What had she been thinking? Was she so starved for affection that a smile from a stranger gave him license to be familiar with her? Before she could say anything, Magnus grabbed the man by his collar and jerked him from her side. Still holding on to him, Magnus punched him in the jaw.
	"Magnus!" Tora cried. 
	Magnus hit the stranger again. 
	"Stop it, stop it, I say!" 
	Tora feared Magnus would kill the man. She had seen that savage gleam in his eye once before—at Loren—and the hairs rose on the back of her neck. She was contemplating putting the porridge out of danger's way and leaping on Magnus before he did further damage when the stranger spoke.
	"Ha! Won't Vigdis get her wimple in a knot when she hears this! You've probably not heard, but she's widowed and out fishing for a new husband. She spoke to me in great length about you. I must hurry back to Bergen and tell her of your marriage. She'll have a fit." 
	Tora wondered who the woman was and what role she played in Magnus's life. Apparently, she would not take the news of his marriage well.
	The man regarded Tora again with a smile. "It did not occur to me that anyone as sweet as this maiden would lower herself to marry you, Magnus. Even so, cousins should greet each other warmly, do you not agree?"
	Cousin? Magnus hadn't told her much about his family. Obviously there was bad blood between these two. She didn't understand why this cousin goaded her husband, but from the look on Magnus's face, she feared he would haul off and hit the man again.
	"Magnus, let him go! He hasn't done anything to me!" She might as well have been bellowing at a dead stump, as much attention as she received from him. The ludicrousy of the situation was unbelievable!
	Magnus stood nose to nose with his cousin, the color high in his cheeks. "Be warned, Cousin, if you plan to bide here awhile, keep your distance from Tora."
	Tora tried to break in between them then and let Magnus's temper cool, but he abruptly released his cousin, grabbed her by her upper arm, and hustled her across the yard into the Great Hall. 
	Everyone in the hall looked up as Magnus and Tora banged through the door. Magnus strode to the high seat before releasing his grip on her. He sat down, apparently ready to eat his breakfast, but Tora trembled with anger as she stood there with the trencher of porridge in her hands.
	"How dare you," she sputtered. "How dare you act that way toward your own cousin? He wasn't doing anything; he was just being pleasant—which is far more than I can say for you!" 
	Magnus shot her a warning look. 
	She was beyond caring. "You are the most ill-mannered man I have ever met. You completely ignored me out there. You didn't even have the decency to introduce us!"
	Magnus's hand curled around the cup before him and his eyes narrowed as if concentrating on it as he said, "Nikolas has a way of stealing my possessions away from me." 
	"Your possessions!" 
	That did it. If her hands had been free, Tora would have throttled her foolish husband. Instead, she heaved the bowl of porridge up and dumped it on top of his head. She stared in sudden horror as the gooey mess ran down through his hair, over his face and down his shoulders to drip onto the floor in big, silent globs. 
	Not a sound broke the sudden hush of the Great Hall. Everyone waited to see how Magnus would react to this. 
	But Tora didn't wait for his response. She whirled on her heel and fled out the door as fast as she could.
	She ran smack into Nikolas. He held her out at arm's length and his expression immediately became one of concern.
	"What is it, dear cousin. Has he hurt you?" 
	Tora shrugged off his hands and pushed past him, desperate to distance herself from the scene she had left behind. Nikolas hurried at her side, plaguing her with questions until she whirled on him.
	"Shut up—just shut up!" she cried. She renewed her pace, afraid Magnus would find her with Nikolas. She was in enough trouble as it was! How could she have been so stupid, so irrational? 
	She didn't stop berating herself until she found herself at the tarn, deep in the woods. She sat down in the deep, dormant grass along the bank, buried her face in her hands and tried unsuccessfully to concentrate on the calming gurgle of the brook that flowed into it.
	Dear God, what had she done? Just when she thought things began to settle between her and Magnus, trouble like this had to happen.
	But her pride could only stand so much beating. Through sheer determination she fooled herself each day into believing Magnus did not see her in this cold possessive light. To actually hear the words spoken aloud by him—and in front of his people...Yes, he had hurt her, her honor. And he deserved what he'd gotten. How dare he treat her so brutishly and be so cruel to one of his own family? 
	She would have to pay for her actions. The satisfaction she felt now, visualizing that goopy concoction running down Magnus's face would be short-lived, she imagined. She wrapped her arms about her knees and rested her chin upon them. What would he do?
	"What on Earth happened in the Great Hall? You looked like the devil himself chased after you."
	Tora gasped, unaware Nikolas had followed her, then mustered a weak smile, finding his description of Magnus rather fitting under the circumstances. "He had no right to treat you and me that way," she muttered.
	"I see. And you let him know that, I suppose? Tell me about it. I could use a good story to use against him. By the way, I am Nikolas Trondsson. My mother and Magnus's father are brother and sister. It would seem that you and I are cousins, and I do not even know your name."
	Tora began with the simple facts, but her chest felt so constricted with her attempt to suppress her whirling emotions that she feared she might burst. Nikolas seemed so sincere and concerned that once she began talking, she poured out her whole, miserable soul to him.
	"I am but his property, a possession to be used when he needs me and placed in a trunk when he does not. I have no freedom here, few friends, no purpose other than to bear him an heir. I cannot bow my head like some docile maidservant and accept that he treats me this way. But somehow, somehow, I must reconcile myself to it or go mad."
	"I see we have a kinship of heart." Nikolas smiled. "I felt toward him as you do now. He was always the stronger, the better liked, the heir to a great domain. He has always been so sure of himself and has kept himself invulnerable to others—except perhaps where his son was concerned. That's why I pestered him as we grew up—I wanted to find a chink in that armor of his." 
	Nikolas gave Tora a piercing look. "You, Tora, may be that vulnerable spot. Never have I seen Magnus react with such spontaneous emotion before. Me thinks you manage fine to make his life miserable, also. Only do not push him too far, Tora. While he has great control of that temper of his, he will stand only so much impudence from anyone."
	They sat in silence, Tora mulling over the day's events. "Nikolas, who is Vigdis?"
	"Look! Did you see that fish jump?"
	"Don't try to change the subject. You said that she's looking for a husband and that she won't like hearing Magnus has married. Why?"
	Nikolas pulled at the grass next to him then used a stick to dig at a stone buried in the dirt. "She's no one, Tora."
	"Nikolas!"
	"She's an acquaintance of Magnus', one of the many women who likes to flirt with him when he's at court. That's all."
	There lay more behind his words than met the eye, Tora decided, but Nikolas changed the subject to himself, a trait she would later recognize as coming quite naturally to him. He was a charming young man, tall and lean, redheaded with a ruddy complexion and a ready smile. Better looking than his cousin, his face lacked the hardness and bitterness of Magnus'.
	The light, easy manner in which he spoke caressed Tora's ragged nerves. She had not realized the strain she struggled under, not only because of this morning, simply from living with Magnus. Nikolas's jovial mood was impossible to ignore and Tora soon found herself smiling again as he regaled her with stories of his childhood and pranks he had pulled on Magnus. But when Nikolas paused, Tora's predicament forced its way to the fore.
	"You must go back now. I've raised Magnus's choler enough as it is. It certainly won't help if he finds out we have spent so much time alone together."
	Nikolas seemed uncertain about leaving her, but apparently finding her argument reasonable, gave her shoulder a quick squeeze and left her.
	The midday sun shone about her. Tora bit her lip as she pondered what kind of reception waited for her at the manor. She refused to admit that she was afraid to go back, though her chest felt awfully constricted again. She cursed herself for her bad temper and rash outburst, but found no relief. 
	Tora heard footfalls approach and whirled toward them. She relaxed when she spotted Aksel. Since she had saved his granddaughter's life, Aksel had befriended her. She was grateful to have one more friend among so many strangers. 
	"You must come back to the manor now," he gently said. 
	Tora hugged her knees again. She did not let Aksel see her face; she feared he would see how much she dreaded going back. "Is he very angry?" she whispered.
	"Oh, that he is—or was. He's had time to cool off now. A good, cold dunk in the creek to clean up probably helped." Aksel shook his graying head. "I don't know what it is with you, girl, but you seem to bring the temper right out of the man. Usually, he's as cool as a cup of beer right from the cellar. Nikolas gets under his skin, too, but usually he does it on purpose." 
	"It's because he hates my father—and must be reminded about the accident, reminded of Thor, every time he sees my face. That's why—"
	That's why he behaved so coldly to her during the day, it suddenly dawned on her, and why he came to her only in the night, why he refused to wake up with her by his side. To look upon her in the light of day hurt or angered him too much.
	"Here now, you mustn't say such things," Aksel said, as if to hear her words in such a defeated voice bothered him. He patted her hand. "You mustn't give up now, jente. You have a hard task to fulfill here, but you must carry your burden with dignity and honor." 
	His words gave her heart.
	Aksel gave her a hand up and together they hiked back toward the manor. If only she could straighten out this mess with Magnus without making matters worse, she mused. As they neared Ringebu, Tora stopped Aksel with a hand on his arm.
	"Aksel, will you please go ask the jarl if he might meet me here?" she asked.
	Aksel must have understood that she was more afraid of being humiliated in front of the his people than of the punishment itself. After meeting her gaze, he nodded and left her within the trees.

AKSEL FOUND Magnus in the armory checking the condition of the weapons and their trappings. He was relieved to see that his lord had regained his composure. Surely, he would act reasonably with Tora? He made Tora's request to him.
	Magnus smiled unpleasantly at Aksel. "You may assure her that I will mete out her punishment when I am ready."
	"But, Magnus, the girl wants to save face. Give her some dignity. You've treated her badly enough as it is. She is prepared for your wrath, but please, spare her the humiliation of a public reprisal."
	"It seems she has found a champion in you, Aksel. You and my cousin. But I warn you, do not come between Tora and me. What goes on between us is none of your concern. Besides, I have other matters to speak with you about.
	"I've received news from the north. Skule Baardsson has gathered a large military force in Trøndelagen and is levying heavy taxes upon the people he rules there. He took it upon himself to assemble the Øreting and has proclaimed himself king of all Norway!"
	"The traitor!" Aksel exclaimed. "He has forever thumbed his nose at our good King Haakon. The king cannot hood his sight to this latest devilry, though."
	"No. We must warn our people to be ready when Skule advances and gather an army to come to King Haakon's aid when he calls," Magnus replied.
	"I will set out tomorrow with fifty men to rouse all the men in the district. You ready things here. Make sure Ringebu is well guarded. Ready provisions, arms and horses. Upon my return, we ride to Bergen to the king."

TORA BEGAN TO feel the true weight of her offence. Everywhere she went, people found excuses not to speak to her. No one would meet her eyes, ill at ease in her presence. After Aksel had told her that Magnus would not come to her, she had made her way to the kitchen house where she knew the women would be. At Loren she could always count on the comforting presence of women and their quiet chores to lessen her own griefs. She instinctively sought them out now. 
	Ingeborg rushed to her as she entered the room. "Tora, are you all right?" 
	Tora appreciated Ingeborg's feeble attempt to smile at her, but the older woman's eyes were full of concern.
	"Never have I seen anyone treat his lordship like that! You must have lost your wits. Oh, the look he had on his face with that porridge all over him. First he went all white, then all red. Then his eyebrows knit together and his jaw clenched so hard I thought he might break his teeth. I can tell you we were all very relieved when he left us. Hungry, but relieved." Her plump hands patted her round belly.
	Tora grimaced at the reminder that she had ruined their breakfast. "I am most sorry about breakfast. I just—"  
	She said no more. The faces watching her were as emotionless as the dried meat they were preparing to hang from the rafters. Tora suddenly realized what an offence she had committed in their eyes. She was an interloper, and as far as they were concerned, the one who had caused them such a great loss, the one who gave their lord nothing but grief. She would find no sympathy here. She turned and strode from the room, forcing her back to remain straight and her head high.
	She wandered aimlessly about the manor then, brooding about her coming meeting with Magnus. She dreaded the punishment that he had in store for her. He would not tolerate, nor easily forgive, that she had made him look foolish in front of his own people. He would humiliate her in front of all of them. 
	By the time she was summoned to his chamber, her stomach was in knots. Magnus waited for his messenger to leave them then took her by her arm and led her from the room.
	"I thought I had made it very clear to you before, Tora, that I will brook no insolence from you. Even so, I have allowed you to fight and defy me within the privacy of your bedchamber. But in front of my people, I will tolerate nothing. If you were a man, I would have you flogged."
	Tora hurried to keep up with his long strides. She admitted to herself that as a warrior, noble and a leader of men he must maintain an image of ruthlessness and superiority. What she could not stand was that he ignored her own needs for dignity and respect. 
	"But, Magnus, I am sorry about this morning. I wish it had never happened. But I was so angry with you, the way you—how you beat Nikolas upon his very arrival. I did not stop to think... please, Magnus, listen to me," she pleaded as he dragged her along beside him. 
	But they were already entering the Hall. Tora fell silent and hastily composed herself to meet his punishment with stoic pride. She could see Maalfrid gloating over her anticipated chastisement, and she was damned if she would add to her own humiliation by pleading or weeping in front of the old hag. The room fell silent as all heads turned in her direction. 
	Tora lifted her chin and boldly met each gaze so they might not know how she quivered inside. Apparently, word had spread about her outrageous behavior, and now the Hall filled with people who wanted to see the willful girl who so openly defied one of the fiercest and greatest men in the land. 
	"Please, my friends, let us be seated and eat our fill," Magnus said. He led Tora to her seat at the left of the high-seat where he sat. 
	Tora blanched. Did he truly mean to make her wait through a whole meal before meting out her punishment? Her heart pounded as the suspense mounted. What did he have planned for her?
	The meal lasted an eternity for Tora, as platters of fish and wild game were served along with onions, cabbage and chunks of bread and cheese. Determined to appear nonchalant about the whole affair, she pretended to eat and drink, while in reality, each tiny bite threatened to choke her. She was relieved though to see that her hand shook only the slightest when she grabbed her cup of ale.
	"You may be fooling everyone else in the Hall," Magnus whispered in her ear, "but I know you play them false with your apparent coolness, Tora. I can feel you tremble as we sit." 
	She glared back at him. He took great pleasure in her discomfort and occasionally drew her into the conversations around them, watching her squirm as she endeavored to answer without her voice quavering. 
	Most of the conversation revolved around Skule and his acts against the king. Rumor had it that Skule had taken the oath of king at the Øreting on the shrine of St. Olav, which his son Peter and a few others had forcibly removed from the Christ Church. In the opinion of many, this desecration of the sanctuary could only bring bad luck to Skule, and their hopes were high that King Haakon would quickly put an end to his treachery.
	By the end of the meal, the crowd was in a merry and festive mood. More and more glances were cast in Tora's direction and she prayed this evening would soon be over. Finally, she could stand the tension no longer. She grabbed Magnus's hand. He turned to her and she whispered, "Please, let it be over." 
	Magnus stood up, and the room fell quiet. "Not everyone here has had the pleasure of meeting my wife, the Lady Tora. Unfortunately, this morning, as most of you already know, her ladyship took it upon herself to step over the bounds of decorum that I demand of all my people. And while my sense of honor balks at the idea of causing a lady discomfort, it is my duty as Master of Ringebu, to publicly remedy the wrong she did to my person."
	Tora had resigned herself to her fate as best she could. But as she sat listening to Magnus's honey-coated words, her indignation grew and her bruised pride revolted. How dare he present himself as a man saddened by this ignoble task? He wasn't going to balk at punishing her for her rudeness, he was going to enjoy it! Since the very beginning he had looked for ways to chastise and humble her—denying her a maid, preventing her from holding the keys to Ringebu, putting her in a separate room, keeping her from her rightful place as his wife. The list was endless. 	
	Never mind that she should have controlled her temper this morning. This was just one more way he could punish her for her father's wrong. She hid her balled fists in her skirts. She swore to herself that she would show him who was most noble of character here. She would not come to him like a lamb to slaughter! 
	Tora willed herself to stay calm and dignified as Magnus pushed the high-seat further away from the bench and sat down again. He looked over at her, his face smooth, but she was sure he was enjoying himself as his eyes sparkled at her. He narrowed them at her when she didn't move and extended a hand. 
	"Come here, Tora." His expression settled into lines of irritation at her lack of action. "You will apologize for your behavior toward me this morning."
	Tora stood gracefully and turned to face Magnus. She stared down at him; her fear replaced with anger at his cavalier behavior. "I have nothing to apologize for. 'Tis you who owe Nikolas and me an apology for your brutish treatment toward us this morning. You got what you deserved!"  
	The crowd gasped as one before breaking out in grumbles of disapproval.
	Magnus rose to his full height, towering over her. With studied deliberateness, he removed his sword belt and unattached the sheathed sword from it. He doubled the belt and thumped it absently against his thigh. 
	Tora swallowed hard.
	"I warned you, woman, and now you have pushed me too far," Magnus stated in a dangerously low voice. His face had turned to stone and his eyes glinted. "It grieves me that you take your vows of fealty to me so lightly. And while a priest may give you absolution for your sins through confession, I will teach you obedience now through the strength of my arm and this belt against your backside!" he bit out. 
	Before Tora could react, Magnus had her bent over his knees, her skirts tossed up over her head. She struggled to get away, but his arm was like a steel band across her back. She bit her knuckle to keep from crying out as the first lashes stung her. She thought Magnus might never stop, the searing pain going on and on. It was a battle of wills, and one that Tora lost. At last she cried out. 
	The lashing stopped abruptly, and the belt dropped to the floor with a dull thud. Tora slid off Magnus's lap and winced as her stinging buttocks struck the cold, hard floor. She kept her head down, muffling her sobs against her chest. She would not let him see how much he had hurt her—both in body and spirit.
	Magnus motioned to two men who came and took Tora under the arms, raising her to her feet. They had to help support her for a moment, but then she shrugged them off. She could do nothing about her hot, tear-streaked face, or her trembling, but she drew herself up, tall and straight, and looked Magnus in the eye. Her voice quavered, but became stronger as she spoke.
	"You, who preaches for laws and justice throughout the land for all people both rich and helpless, are a hypocrite! Here you stand offended by me, a woman, and you take such annoyance at my actions that you punish me as you will! You cannot treat people as you have just treated me, as you have treated me since I was forced to wed you, and expect them to follow you like a stupid pup. If you want my respect and loyalty, then by Thor, you will have to earn it!"
	An appalled silence filled the room. Magnus knotted his hands at his sides and he held himself rigid with control. He glared down at her and then turned to face the two men standing at hand. "Lock her in her room and keep her there until my return. We shall see then if she is ready to apologize for her affronts against her lord and master," he thundered. He turned on his heel and strode from the Hall.

MAGNUS FLUNG back his covers and rose naked from his bed. He was still too furious with Tora—furious with himself—to sleep. As he paced he swore. He remembered every moment of his disgrace. 
	"Please let it be over," she had said. 
	He looked down upon her small white hand clutching his own large tanned one. He'd shifted his gaze to her face. Her cheeks had been pale and her eyes wide with trepidation. But she'd given him no choice. Power was based not only on riches, but upon honor and strength of character. If he let a slip of a girl show him such disrespect publicly, he would lose face among his men and the other lords in the land. He could not let Tora's demeaning behavior toward him go unpunished. 
	He'd seen how she'd struggled to be brave as she silently grappled with her fear of his reprisal. In his experience, this time to fret was at least as effective as the punishment itself as a deterrent to future offenses. 
	He had decided to end her agony and allow her to receive her chastisement while her courage supported her. All he had required was her sincere public apology. 
	Things had gotten way out of hand.
	How could Tora, who should mean naught to him, wheedle her way beneath his chain mail of self-control and prick him till he raged? She was no more than a gangly two year-old filly rushing at him in her boldness to test his mastery before veering away at the last moment. And instead of standing with his feet firmly planted, he had raised his arms and shouted like a wildman, scaring her instead of reassuring her of his authority with steadfast control.
	Magnus shivered in the moonlight that beamed through his window. The hour was late, and he was to set out early from Ringebu. He crawled into bed and pulled heavy furs up around his shoulders with a sigh. He had overreacted. And amidst all of Tora's blustering, she had been right about one thing—respect must be earned. Before he left in the morning, he would lighten her punishment as befitted her offense.

(bm) Chapter 12

TORA PACED the floor of her room, no longer stiff from her beating. She grimaced, remembering the searing pain and stiffness that had only slowly disappeared as the days went by. Her pride smarted now. She had never been beaten before, and the shock to her independent spirit was great. Tears threatened to spill when she remembered the humiliation she had suffered at Magnus's hands. He had carried out his vow to bring her low. How could she ever face the people of Ringebu again?
	After eight steps she met the opposite wall. She stopped and stared out the only window in the room. The sky, heavy with leaden clouds, brought no relief to her drooping spirits, and the cold sleet striking her face could not numb the agony of defeat. 
	Tora shivered, holding her arms close to her chest. She stood in the same clothes she had worn three days ago when the jarl's men had brought her here. Everything except her bed had been removed—a staunch reminder that she was imprisoned like a common criminal, all freedom gone. Someone brought her food and water each day, and emptied her chamber pot, but no one had come to see her. 
	She longed to be outside, to wander through the woods at will. The forest would be still, having shut itself down for the coming winter. The scurry of animals would be absent, and most of the bird song, too. There was a comfort in that solitude, Tora thought, unlike the reproachful silence that fell from the cold walls of her barred room.
	By the fifth day, she no longer paced the floor. She moped at the window, her thoughts far away at Loren and happier times. Food held no appeal and sleep eluded her, leaving her listless and tired. 
	She watched the swaying of the trees in the wind with indifference, wondering only when Magnus would finally summon her. Even as she resented his beating and could not understand her own longing, she found that she missed him, even his mocking and brusque manner with her. And she ached to have him hold her again in his warm passionate embrace where for a few moments she could forget his loathing and pretend he cared. 

ON THE SEVENTH day of Tora's confinement, Aksel looked up from the intricate carving he worked on by the warm hearth as Ingeborg entered the room. He frowned at his wife's worried face.
	"What is it, Ingeborg, has there been an accident?" he asked alarmed. 
	"You may say that," she answered briskly. "Tora has not eaten in two days. Each plate of food has been returned to the kitchen untouched. She is ill, Aksel, and we must do something!"
	"Come, let us go to her. I will see her myself."
	"I knew I could count on you to do what's right. I have never known his lordship to treat anyone so unfairly. It is unworthy of him. When do you expect him to return?" 
	"'Tis hard to say. Any day now, I expect." 
	Magnus had ridden out at first light after Tora's punishment, taking fifty armed men with him. Aksel expected that he would scour his land, gathering his forces and readying everyone for the possibility of an attack from Skule. Aksel shuddered as he imagined the greeting any troublemakers would get from Magnus in his current mood. Usually lenient with his people, Magnus's wrath, born of Tora's blatant defiance, might yet do further damage.
	Unlocking the door, Aksel led Ingeborg into Tora's chamber. He bit back a curse as his eyes roved around the dark, cold place. On the floor by the window hunched Tora, her chin resting on her hands on the sill. She gave no sign she was aware of their presence.
	"Tora," called Aksel. 
	She turned dull eyes to them. 
	He gritted his teeth as he saw her wan complexion and the dark circles beneath her eyes. Her once sparkling eyes appeared flat, without emotion, and her hair lacked its normal healthy luster. Ingeborg rushed to her and held her close, as if she were a hurt child.
	"Ingeborg," Tora whispered, helpless to stop the silent tears which trailed down her cheeks at the comforting warmth of Ingeborg's embrace.
	"No, child, do not weep," Aksel said as he crossed the room to her. He knelt on one knee beside her and examined her closely. Her lack of animation shocked him. She seems just like an empty shell. His heart went out to her while at the same time his anger toward Magnus grew. Lord or not, the man had gone too far, this time.
	"I dare not go against his lordship's orders concerning you, Tora, but I will make sure that you are eating properly, even if I have to spoon feed you myself." He turned to Ingeborg. "Go fetch a cup of broth and a warm shawl. Have wood fetched. Between you and I we can get Tora's strength back."
	He shook his head and muttered, "'Tis a sin what Magnus has done to the girl."

THREE DAYS later, Aksel cornered Magnus in the stable where he stood rubbing down his lathered horse with a handful of hay. Magnus and his men had just arrived back from their rounds, ten days after they had left Ringebu.
	"You've gone too far this time," Aksel said abruptly.
	"What are you talking about?"
	"You know damn well what I'm talking about. Your heart is black, Magnus. Have you stopped to think about what you're doing?"
	"Stop talking in riddles, man! Speak your piece," Magnus answered. He continued to groom his horse.
	"You're a changed man, Magnus. Ever since Thor—Thor's death. You have hardened your heart and have forgotten the honor and righteousness your family has always upheld." Aksel paused and then pressed his point. "What you're doing to that poor girl is wrong. You treat her worse than you would a dog. Can you not see that you ruin her?"
	"Ruin her? She has the honor of being my spouse!" Magnus growled. Ten days growth of beard added to his look of complete ruthlessness.
	"You avoid the truth, man. Can you not see the prize that you hold in your hand, the beauty and charm of the girl? She has more spirit and courage than many a man I have met, but if you continue to treat her as you do, you'll break her for certain."
	"And so will her father break," Magnus ground out. 
	Aksel shook his head at his thickheaded chief.
	"The man is imprisoned, and there is yet a good chance he will lose his life to you. He has dishonored himself and must live with the situation he has forced his daughter into. You send him to his grave with no one to remember him after Tora is gone. I tell you, Magnus, he has suffered enough, and so has Tora," said Aksel, exasperated. Damn the man!
	Magnus turned on his heel and faced Aksel, his hand resting on the withers of his horse, the whites of his knuckles obvious as he clenched a handful of hay. His eyes flashed blue fire, and the sudden tautness with which he held his body made him look dangerous indeed.
	"Leave off, Aksel. My marital affairs are no one's concern but my own!" 
	Aksel looked up at his lord who stood glaring menacingly at him. He'd been his mentor and right-hand man since Magnus was no more than a boy. But Aksel had had enough of Magnus and his blackness. He hauled back his arm and let fly a sharp jab right into Magnus's jaw. 
	That was all it took to set off Magnus. His fist slammed hard into Aksel's stomach, knocking the breath from him, then caught him on the chin as he doubled over. The blow caused Aksel to hit the stall door with such force that it flew open and sent him reeling into the alley. Magnus stood in the doorway, his face black as thunder. 
	"Have you had enough, Aksel?" he demanded.
	Aksel jumped to his feet again and put up his fists. "I've had enough of you!" he bellowed. "You've had this coming for a long time now. Come on then, don't just stand there gawking!"
	Magnus came face to face with Aksel again. From the look on his lord's face, Aksel decided he wasn't being taken seriously so he struck Magnus a blow directly in the nose. Magnus reeled back, bringing his hand up to his face, his eyes widening in surprise at the blood there. 
	Aksel nodded and smiled grimly. "Come on now, I thought I'd taught you well to defend yourself, but there you are, standing like a young boy moping at his first maid." 
	Before Aksel could blink, Magnus came hurling toward him, locked his arms about his middle and sent them both crashing to the straw-covered floor. They were well matched. Though Magnus stood taller and outweighed him, Aksel was determined to knock some sense into his chief, and this gave him the strength and agility to pound Magnus. With the dull whack of fist against muscle, grunts and throaty curses, they struck each other, first on their feet, then rolling around on top of each other.
	Finally, both stood swaying, breathing heavily. Aksel silently assessed Magnus's injuries, noting the shadow darkening his jaw and his swollen, bloody nose. He watched as Magnus wiped blood away from his cheek with the back of his hand. His other hand pressed against his ribs and his shirt was blood splattered. 
	Aksel himself had not faired much better, though his nose was intact, he noted ruefully. He spoke the words he had wanted to say for months. "Let go your rage, man," he panted. "Let yourself grieve for your wee son as you should have months ago. Stop living this revenge. Look at what you have around you, the people who would die for you and...your innocent young bride who longs for your warmth and kindness."
	With these words, Aksel left Magnus standing in the alley, dirty and bloody, with a bemused look upon his face.

MAGNUS NEEDED to be alone. He took a horse and rode hard from Ringebu. Finally exhausted, his sweat steaming in the chill air, he stopped at a brook and washed his face. The icy water cooled his hot, bruised skin. He tried not to think about what Aksel had said to him in the barn, but his throbbing nose was a constant reminder of the older man's opinions about him and his life.
	Was it true that he had hardened himself to keep the pain of the loss of his son away? He could not remember that he had ever felt anything else except this cold, deep rage in his breast. He had been struck the worst blow of his life that day last Spring and he had struck back at those who had caused it. He had thought retribution would make him feel better, but he realized it hadn't. Instead, his brutish behavior toward Tora shamed him. But Aksel was wrong about one thing. She could not want his kindness, he decided, not when she deliberately provoked him so.
	Magnus sat down on the mossy, damp slope next to the brook and ran his fingers through his hair. Let go your rage, man, he heard Aksel say. Grieve for your wee son.
	Suddenly, Magnus was afraid as he never had been before. He did not fear facing foes, receiving the fiercest of wounds or dying in battle. But he feared slipping the power of his grief free. I will have to let go of Thor then. And what would he do without Thor?
	Magnus sat there for what seemed like hours, his head in his hands, tears stinging his battered cheeks. He relived all the things the two of them had done together and recalled the plans he had made for his son. Where once he had imagined Thor by his side as the two of them stood high atop a ridge overlooking his vast domain, now he saw himself standing there alone, Thor gone. 
	Forever gone. 
	The last shuddering sob left him empty in heart and soul. The rage disappeared, but there was nothing to replace it, bad or good.
	Stiff and numb, he rose and washed his face once more in the cold water of the brook. His horse had strayed. Cursing and jogging after the confounded beast lifted his spirits. On his way back to the Manor, he felt better than he had in months. As he neared Ringebu, his thoughts turned to Tora. 
	He smiled as he remembered her as he had first seen her, proud and defiant—scared, but striving to hide it. He had to admit to himself that he enjoyed her lack of respect toward him on occasion, her feeling that they stood on equal footing, despite their different stations in life. Magnus rarely experienced such open frankness from anyone, Aksel being the only exception—all others at Ringebu were careful to honey their words and keep him pleased. 
	If you want my respect and loyalty, then by Thor, you will have to earn it! Her angry words echoed through his mind.
	Magnus shook his head, and his smile died in self-reproach. He had treated her badly since they met. He recalled now how his gut had wrenched as he watched Nikolas flirt with Tora, touching her, making her smile as he never had. Had he ruined any chance that she might one day look upon him with such pleasure? He suddenly hoped very much that he had not broken her spirit, as Aksel suggested. 

INGEBORG GAVE him a disapproving glare when he entered her kitchen, then gasped as her gaze took in his swollen, cut face and bloody clothes. "My lord, what has happened? Are you hurt bad?" 
	Magnus waived a hand in dismissal. He wasn't about to tell her that her husband had pounded him. She would probably think I deserved it, too, he thought ruefully.
	She didn't press him further, and he had known that she wouldn't. He was the law in his own right and ruled as he would; neither a bishop nor a king would have a say in how he ran his domain or treated his wife. He could feel Ingeborg's curious stare upon him as he collected provisions, but he didn't offer to tell her of his plans.
	"Shall I fetch Aksel, my lord?" she asked. 
	"No!" he said, then lowered his voice a notch. "That won't be necessary."  

"TORA!" 
	In her bleak prison, Tora started. Her pulse quickened as she recognized Magnus's voice.
	"Tora," he called, "will you come ride with me?"
	Tora held her breath and pressed herself against the chilly stone wall next to the window, her thoughts whirling. So Magnus had finally come, but what was he doing? The last time she had seen him, he had been livid with her. Go for a ride; had he gone mad? 
	Here she was, locked away for over a week, like a common thief, by him...Her temper flared at his apparently bottomless audacity. What was he up to now, she wondered? She turned and stood before the window. She would listen to him, but only because it had been such a long time since she'd been outside. 
	Magnus sat mounted on his horse behind the manor, in the gloom of the coming evening. His mount moved restlessly and she heard his voice again, coming in soft soothing sounds until the horse settled. If they could close the riff between them, would he use that voice with her?
	"Come for a ride with me," repeated Magnus, his breath rising like smoke about his head.
	Another order, thought Tora glumly. She just stared back at him in stony silence.
	She watched him shift impatiently in his saddle, standing in his stirrups before sitting down again. He looked up at her again, squinting in the weakening light of late afternoon.
	"Tora—"
	"No!" she shouted at him.
	"Blast it, woman! Why the hell not?"
	"Because, if you haven't noticed, my lord, I am locked in!" She saw his eyebrow quirk and a rueful smile touch the corners of his mouth.
	"Yes, that you are, my lady," Magnus rebutted, laughter in his voice. "And if you cannot keep a civil tongue when you speak to me, you may just stay there till you are a bent old woman!" 
	She saw him shake his head as he dismounted. He disappeared from view, and she bit her lower lip. A minute later, she caught the sound of his boots on the wooden steps as he bounded up them. Presently, she heard the unlocking of the door. He stood at the threshold, perhaps expecting her to come willingly to him, but she just stood there staring at him. 
	He waved impatiently at her. "Come here." 
	She flinched at his insistent tone, flashes of her beating at his hands running through her mind. 
	"Your pardon, Tora," he said in a softer voice. "Come. I wish your company. Will you not come and ride with me?" 
	Tora raised her eyebrows in disbelief, wary of the warm smile he flashed at her, but curious to find out the reason behind it. She moved toward the door, her head held high, without looking at him. When she had almost reached him, she glanced up at his swollen, bruised face and sucked in a hissing breath.
	"What happened to you?!" She smiled. "Got a taste of your own medicine?" 
	Magnus grimaced at her. "'Tis nothing. Come. Why do you doddle so? Have you come to like your accommodations so much that you would not leave them?" 
	"No." She wanted to tell him that it had all been a mistake, that her actions hadn't been intentional, and he had provoked her until she had lost control of her temper. But she would not do so. Even though she could admit to being at fault, she stubbornly held on to her conviction that he, too, was in the wrong.
	Magnus led her down to his horse and lifted her to the front of his saddle. Reaching behind, he brought forth a warm cloak and handed it to her. He regarded her closely, a frown furrowing his brow, before swinging up behind her. 
	He took the reins in his left hand and wrapped his right arm around her waist. Her senses pricked with awareness of the lean hardness of his chest against her back and the heat of his muscular thighs against her bottom. She held herself rigid as they headed away from the manor, uncertain of his motives. 
	"Where are you taking me?" she asked. She leaned to one side and tilted her face to look at him in the descending gloom.
	"You and I are going to come to an understanding," he said circumspectly. "And I want no one else about while we do it." 
	That idea was not at all comforting, and she remained uneasy but unwilling to press him for more details. 
	They rode up through the woods, Magnus never faltering in his course as he led them through the moonlit gloom. Exhausted from her captivity, the rhythmic motion of the horse and Magnus's warmth against her soon had Tora drifting off to sleep. 

TORA AWOKE when the horse stopped and nickered. Night had fallen and a full moon lent its cool light to the snow-covered surroundings. They were high up in the mountains now, Ringebu hidden somewhere below them. She gazed about, taking in the small stone crofter's cottage with its low walls and thatch roof. 
	Magnus dismounted and, grasping her about her waist, lifted her down in front of him. He cupped her chin with his hand and turned her face up to him. He searched her face intently, as if looking for...what—defiance, loyalty, submission? Tora did not know. She could not read the enigmatic look in his stormy blue eyes. She frowned and bit her lower lip, uncertain as to his intent. 
	"Tora, I have treated you badly," he said, as if the words came hard to him. "What is done is done and I cannot change what has happened thus far between us. I lashed out at you in my rage and sorrow of losing Thor, and that was wrong. I have brought you here so that we might begin anew, so that the time we have left together might hold less frustration and anger for both of us."
	There had been so much ill feeling between them. Tora wasn't sure if she could forgive him as easily as he forgave himself. The man certainly did not lack ego! 
	She spun away from him and marched toward the croft, not waiting to see his reaction to her lack of acknowledgment of his apology. 
	The dark interior of the cottage intensified the cold. Tora shivered as the small space reminded her of her long captivity, and she opened the door wide. As moonlight flooded the room, she made out a hearth in the middle of the dirt floor, as well as a cooking pot, two benches, a small table and a bed.
	She spied a stack of chopped wood in one corner and at once began to build a fire. She was aware of Magnus standing in the doorway watching her. He reminded her of a great prowling lynx, only much, much larger, watching its prey, quite sure that his meal was within easy reach. She busied herself with the fire so he might not see her nervousness at his steady regard. 
	Her hands gave her away as she failed to create a spark with the steel against the flint. Again the image of the wild cat assaulted her as she sensed, rather than heard, Magnus move beside her. He took the steel and flint from her. With one sure stroke, he sparked the kindling, which began to smoke. 
	Magnus blew softly on the mellow orange light, encouraging it to flame. These were very ordinary motions, but goose bumps rose on her arms as she compared his gentle actions now with the ruthlessness she had been the brunt of for so long. She could not trust him when he said things would be so different. 
	Magnus smiled sadly at her and rose to his feet, pulling her up with him. "I know you do not believe my words as yet, but before we leave this place, you and I will have come to an understanding."
	"May I ask you one thing, my lord?" 
	Magnus nodded. 
	"How could you keep me locked away for ten days with no light or fire, no contact with anyone—not even a chair to sit upon, and expect me to believe that you regret everything you have done against me?" Tora's voice shook. Her eyes filled with tears of hurt and betrayal. Even as rough and callus as he had been from the start, she had trusted him to be honest with her. But his actions and his words didn't match.
	Magnus frowned, genuinely perplexed. "What do you mean, no fire or light? Before I left, I told—" In his rage the night he publicly chastised Tora, he'd banned her to her room until his return, stipulating that no one speak to her. But the next morning, before he'd ridden out of Ringebu, his head cooler, he'd given specific instructions to....
	"Maalfrid," he muttered. He looked over at Tora, her soft wide mouth curving down sadly. "I gave Maalfrid specific instructions that you were to be allowed out from your room each day with an escort. You were to be locked in only at night. I said nothing about fires or anything else. It appears that Maalfrid decided to ignore my orders and do what she could to make your punishment more severe." Magnus watched Tora move to the other side of the growing fire. 
	"She hates me. I've known it all along, but I never thought she would reek her own vengeance upon me. I thought I suffered enough from yours!"
	He heard the bitterness in her voice. She had averted her face from him, but he knew it reflected her words. He felt his temper rise. If Maalfrid's vindictiveness had lost him the chance to make peace with Tora and mend their estranged marriage, he would banish her from Ringebu!
	"'Twas my intention that you should suffer as I did, Tora. I wanted your father—and then you, to know what it is like to have your life torn apart, have the most important things in your life scattered in the wind, lost." Magnus hesitated, not sure how much of his recent revelation to share with this stranger he called "wife". 
	For stranger she was. 
	Despite his intimacy with her body—he knew every little erotic spot that gave her such great pleasure and every curve and dimple along her sleek body—he knew less about her thoughts, hopes and dreams than any stranger he might share an evening and a cup of wine with. "But I was wrong. I should not have treated you as a chattel, made you the brunt of my rage." 
	"Do you mean that you will not beat me ever again?" she asked baldly. 
	He smiled at her, pleased to see rosy color back in her cheeks. He wanted to put her at ease, to smooth away the furrows in her brow and take away the worry in her eyes.
	"I mean that if necessary, I will bend you over my knee in private and not humiliate you publicly. I ask of you that you demonstrate fealty to me in front of others and, in return, I shall strive to treat you with the respect and attention that a man should give his wife. Agreed?" 
	He could not admit how his admiration for her had grown as she had bravely faced him that evening in the Great Hall. But she must not be given the impression he would countenance such outbursts from her in public. 
	He waited patiently, watching a myriad of emotions flit across her face as she contemplated his offer. He found he held his breath and exhaled as she finally relaxed. Her eyes met his, their clear blue color honest and unbeguiling.
	"Agreed. Sira Odde always said that my greatest sin is excessive pride," she remarked, turning to watch the infant blaze struggle to grow. "He warned me I would one day suffer the consequences if I did not repent." She paused a moment, glancing up at him before adding, "It seems that you, Magnus, are to be my act of contrition." 

CONTENT AFTER a warm supper of porridge with a handful of dried blueberries stirred in, Tora watched Magnus as he filled the large kettle with water to heat. 
	"'Tis too cold to bathe in the stream, but we both look like pilgrim beggars set upon by thieves. I thought we might wash. You may go first."
	Magnus's cordial tone softened Tora. So many weeks she had hungered for a friendly thought from him! Could she truly trust him to treat her better? She did not think she could stand to be disappointed, and sought therefore to remain detached from his attempt to make amends.
	"That will be fine, thank you. Please turn your back." 
	Magnus cocked an eyebrow at her cool reply, but turned his back as she scrubbed herself clean. Her hair would have to wait, but that could not be helped.
	"I've brought your comb with me," Magnus ventured, after she'd dressed. 
	With a smile of thanks, she sat on a bench close to the fire and combed her long tresses. How thoughtful and surprising Magnus could be. She tried not to look at him, but failed miserably.
	Magnus stood as he washed himself. Water glistened like droplets of gold amidst the soft curls on his broad chest. He shivered, his muscles rippling in the cold, the hair standing up on his powerful arms. Those, too, shimmered like spun gold, and the firelight lent a crimson glow to his dark hair. His dark hose molded themselves to every sinew. 
	How beautiful he is. 
	Magnus turned his head, smiling as he caught her watching him from under her lashes. "Will you scrub my back for me, Tora?" He made a request, not an order. 
	The hunger that danced like the flame of the fire in his eyes made her breath catch. Her impulse was to steel herself against him and deny him this intimate act, but she found to her chagrin that she wanted to touch him.
	Magnus stiffened as she scrubbed his back, her hands moving sensually as her thoughts turned heated, and he turned to her.
	"Tora," he said hoarsely, the desire she felt reflected in his smoldering eyes, "my word is true. I will not have you as I have before. I will not take you to my bed and fight you. As God is my witness, I ache with the lust you bring out in me. But now you must come to me, give yourself willingly. I will not seek you out." 
	For the first time since their fateful meeting, Magnus spoke to her and not at her. For the first time, he appeared to put her needs before his own. Half-naked and wet, the Lord of Ringebu stood before her, his hand outstretched, offering peace within the confinements of their arrangement. But could she trust him?
	If he were sincere, could she lie peacefully beside him, accept his role as her husband? Images of their lovemaking flashed through her mind as she hesitated at his request. The heights of pleasure his hands and body gave her turned her to molten gold. Every nerve pulsed for her to place her hand in his. His eyes implored her to give him what he sought. 
	But how could she live easy by his side and make his life with her smooth and trouble-free while her father rotted in prison because of him? Still she hesitated, torn by doubts, her loyalty to her father and a growing need to end the torment of the past months and live in harmony with Magnus. 
	"I wish I..." she began, then just shook her head, not looking at him. 
	Magnus dropped his hand and turned away, jerking on his clothes. A muscle jumped on the side of his jaw.
	"Seek your bed, Tora," he said gruffly, not looking at her. "One day, certain, you will seek me out to warm you. And if you have any regard for Loren and your father's fate, it had better be soon." 
	Tora watched Magnus make his bed on a bench near the fire, his cloak thrown over him. She'd failed to close the rift between them, yet relief streamed through her. He would deny himself his husbandly rights for as long as she deemed. How right it felt to have some control over her life again. When she invited him back to her bed, it would be on her terms.
	She crawled into her bed, her single body taking long to warm it. What was she thinking? She'd not conceive if she refused to lie with Magnus. Nor could she deny her yearning for his touch. But to give in so easily...Did not the high and mighty Highland Jarl deserve to be taught a lesson of some kind? It could prove amusing to give him a ration of neglect. Tora snuggled more deeply within the furs, and a smile curved her lips. Poor Magnus. How long should she let him suffer his solitary bed?

(bm) Chapter 13

WHEN TORA awoke the next morning, Magnus was gone. Just as she finished dressing, he lumbered into the cottage, stomping newly fallen snow from his booted feet, looking ever-so-much like a grumpy bear awakened mid-winter. Careful not to address him, she set about cooking breakfast. She smiled and hummed to herself as she stirred the mush.
	"And just what do you find so amusing this morning?"
	Tora looked up at Magnus and her smile widened at the sullen expression on his face. A small sense of glee at his obvious discomfort raced through her.
	"Why, Magnus, have I done something that offends you?" she asked innocently. "I smile because I have slept so well and feel quite refreshed." She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out loud as Magnus grumbled under his breath.
	"Forgive me, I heard not what you said," she prodded.
	"I said that I knew I would regret my decision to stop bedding you, but I had no idea I would regret it so soon!" 
	Tora watched as he stood up and made his way stiffly to the door. His displeasure was almost palpable and she sobered for a moment as she wondered if he would be able to keep himself under control.
	"Will you not have breakfast, Magnus? 'Tis ready." She smiled again as he mumbled something about having lost his appetite before the door slammed behind him.
	Tora spent her morning cleaning and straightening the small cottage, which was used only in the summer when the cattle and sheep were herded to the mountains. Dust coated everything. In one corner, behind the woodpile, she found an empty mouse nest and droppings. "Sorry, wee mouse, but you shall not abide here," she murmured, sweeping up the debris. She opened the door, cast the waste outside and stopped to listen. 
	Sharp whacks resounded through the open landscape, coming fast and rhythmically. Frowning, Tora made her way around the cottage to its source. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Magnus poised with axe in hand. He stood in his hose and boots, well-muscled legs apart, his chest and arms bare, his sweat steaming in the cold air. 
	She sucked in a quick breath. Hot tingles shot through her womb and she wondered at the feeling. She had seen men work without their shirts before and had never reacted so. Maybe she felt so flushed and aroused because she was now a woman. Perhaps she would react thusly seeing any man in the prime of his life exerting himself in physical labor. 
	She scoffed at such a foolish idea. Magnus was not just any man. Indeed, he was a particularly magnificent specimen of man who had taught her the secrets of intimate pleasure. To deny that her attraction to him would not only be foolish, but dangerous. She must keep her wits about her. Her feelings must not steer her course with him.
	She watched in awe as he raised a huge ax repeatedly in his brawny arms and brought it down with great force into a chunk of wood. No wonder my backside smarted for so many days, she mused, as with each of his blows the wood easily splintered in two. She moved closer, and hands on hips, contemplated the considerable pile of firewood which lay scattered about him.
	"Are we to stay here through the winter, then?" she teased, eyebrows raised.
	Magnus threw her a dark look, but continued his labors. Tora shrugged and let her gaze drift about the silent landscape, all sounds peculiarly muffled by the blanket of snow. She drew in a deep breath of clean, cold air. 
	"You're going to wear yourself ragged like that," she commented. 
	Magnus stopped his swing in mid-motion, lowered the ax to the ground and glared at her. "That is the point," he ground out, his piercing gaze pinning her to the spot. 
	Tora swallowed hard, the full meaning behind his words suddenly dawning on her. "Oh," she squeaked. Then she grinned broadly at him, relishing the power she now held over him. "'Tis a good thing Norway has such abundant forests, then," she quipped. 
	The thunderous look on Magnus's face convinced her that she had pressed her luck long enough, and she left him to take his considerable frustrations out on the wood.

RUMMAGING IN Magnus's rucksack, Tora brought forth a parcel of dried beef, an onion, a wheel of cheese and flat bread. She had better do what she could to assuage Magnus's temper, at least a bit. She smiled. She didn't want to do too much to please him.
	"Let him suffer a bit," she murmured. "Serves him right."  
	Taking up a skin bucket, she stepped through the light snow to the little stream that gurgled a short distance from the cottage. The water coursed icy cold, and her hands reddened when she dipped the bucket into the stream. Magnus was nowhere to be seen, she noted, returning to the little croft. The hearth fire and the turf roof kept the chill of the season at bay, making it cozy and warm inside. As darkness descended the open fire cast its glow into all but the darkest recesses of the little room. Tora sat back to wait for the water in the cooking pot to boil and breathed a sigh of contentment. The simplicity of this croft suited her much better than the elaborate confines of the manor. 
	The fire flared as the door opened and Magnus stepped in, a cleaned and skinned rabbit carcass hanging from one hand. He handed it to her silently and stepped to the wash basin to rinse blood from his hands. 
	Tora regarded him as he sat down on the bench, stretching his long legs out toward the fire and leaning his back against the wall. He was fully dressed again, a homespun wool tunic worn over his shirt, his legs covered in dark brown woolen hose. Dark stubble covered his rugged jawline and the small lines at the corners of his eyes seemed more pronounced today. But nothing could hide the strength and character reflected there in his face. 
	He manages to look noble even dressed as a yeoman. Magnus sighed deeply and closed his eyes. A pang of compassion struck her and she had to quell the impulse to go to him and rub the stiffness from his neck and shoulder muscles. She turned back to preparing their meal, instead.
	"How did you come by the rabbit?" she asked. 
	One bloodshot blue eye peered at her.
	"Set a snare."
	"Well, I shall make you a fine stew from it," she replied, ignoring his black mood. She went about her work, unaware Magnus watched her through half-closed lids.
	Magnus contemplated Tora as she prepared their evening meal with efficient and quiet movements. Strong, well-shaped hands tore the rabbit into chunks and threw them into the cooking pot on the fire. Taking up a knife, she sliced up the onion and threw it into the pot. Salt was added and she stirred the concoction, her forehead wrinkled in concentration. 
	His eyes latched onto her hips as she bent over to rummage through his rucksack again. He imagined her nakedness beneath her gown, her rounded buttocks and her intimate womanhood, rosy and soft, made to accept a man's pleasure—his pleasure. He swallowed hard at the stirrings within his loins and forced himself to look elsewhere. He noted absently that the croft was clean and had been put in order.
	A small sound of pleasure escaped from Tora as she apparently found what she searched for and his gaze swung back to her. Turning back to the pot, she emptied dried mushrooms and various tubers into the simmering stew. With a satisfied look on her face, Tora sat down nearby and turned sparkling eyes to him.
	"Shall I bring you something to drink? Some warm ale, perhaps?"
	He nodded, amazed by the softness of her look. He had never seen her look so at ease. His own physical agony was worth it, he decided, to see his woman so content. 
	His thought startled him. When had he stopped seeing her only as the daughter of his mortal enemy and begun thinking of her as his woman? And not in the way he had at the beginning of their relationship, he realized, for then he had felt nothing more than possession and ownership. 
	He was reminded again of that warm giving woman who had risked everything to save a child's life. Perhaps Aksel's assertion that Tora longed for his respect and kindness was true. And maybe more of her soft attention was just what his aching heart needed.
	Tora brought Magnus's cup of ale to him. A casual touch of his fingers on hers sent a spark through her fingers and to the very depth of her. She jerked back her hand, then brushed an imaginary strand of hair from her face to cover the motion. Had he noticed her reaction? He gazed down into his cup making it difficult for her to tell. 
	Trembling, she made her way to the hearth and concentrated on their supper. Poking a piece of rabbit with a knife, she brought it up to her mouth and took a bite. The hot juices burned her tongue, but she accepted the sensation with desperation, hoping to force her thoughts away from her reaction to a simple physical touch from Magnus. 
	The meat was tender, and lifting each piece up out of the cauldron, she stripped the meat from the bones. With efficient movements, she served Magnus and placed everything within his reach. She refilled his cup with ale and filled one for herself. They ate in companionable silence, both content not to speak. Magnus seemed ravenous, and Tora was amazed by the vast quantity of food he could eat.
	"It seems that your palate finds my cooking satisfactory," she said in amusement. "Me thinks you shall soon split in two if you eat any more!"
	"You forget that I have not eaten since yester eve," he said between mouthfuls. 
	Tora smiled as she recalled his flaring temper this morning. "Then my cooking is not to your liking?"
	"It is." He paused then his voice became a husky whisper. "There is much about you that is to my satisfaction, my sweet." 
	Tora drew in a sharp breath as startling blue eyes captured her own, the sensual message within them not to be misread. She leapt off the bench at his words and made her way to the hearth, hiding her consternation by stirring the remaining stew. 
	Magnus laughed. "Be at ease, Tora. I am too weary even to make a feeble attempt to seduce you this night." 
	Tora exhaled and turned to look at him. "I am perfectly at ease," she said. "Why wouldn't I be?"
	"Why wouldn't you be, indeed?" he answered, going to her. He brought her hand up and brushed his lips over her palm, his breath warm against her skin. His beard scratched her and she sucked in a breath. Goose bumps rose along her arm. 
	Magnus looked deeply into her eyes for a moment and Tora was certain he could read the confusion that must lurk there. Taking a step back, she drew her hand away. Why couldn't she respond coolly to his advances?
	Magnus turned, wrapped his cloak about him and lay down. "Good night, Tora," he said and closed his eyes. 
	Tora was unsure whether she was happy or not that he had not tried to touch her further. She cleared away their supper and after taking a short trip outside, got ready for bed. 	

THE WIND HOWLED and snow blew in blinding sheets that night and another. Magnus and Tora were trapped within their little croft, waiting for the storm to abate. The wind blew through the chinks in the stone walls of the cottage, and the small fire flickered in the uneasy currents. Their indoor stack of firewood diminished, and Tora feared the remaining wood outside was damp.
	"Will the horse be all right?" she asked. The shutters rattled and she jumped, moving closer to him.
	"He's in the little lean-to against the croft. I dare say it has snowed enough to shelter him quite well."
	"I've never been in such a storm before. I've only been in the mountains during the summer, and the wind can not blow so, down at Loren." 
	Magnus looked over at her. "This croft has seen fifty of these storms, if it has seen one. It will hold for another hundred, I wager. And we are snug and warm, with provisions to last several more days."
	Tora relaxed. There was no reason to be afraid, as he said. Nature flexed her muscles as Tora had never seen before, but it was also exciting to feel the power She wielded. But Tora's sense of uneasiness prevailed, and she decided it was because she and Magnus were trapped together; neither would be able to exhaust themselves with physical labor this day.
	"Magnus, will you tell me about when you were a boy?" she asked, stretching her hands out to the fire. She wanted to keep their conversation on neutral ground. She also hoped that here, so isolated from the rest of the world, he might lower his shield just enough for her to see another side to him—a side that was not so arrogant and hard to get close to.
	"Do you seek to know me better?" he asked, turning intent blue eyes to her. Tora drew a deep breath.
	"Well, I...it seems rather odd that I know nothing more of my husband than any stranger might learn in a matter of minutes. Tell me about your parents. Do you have siblings? What games did you play as a boy?"
	Magnus raised his hands in supplication. "Whoa, whoa. One question at a time." He paused. "My father was the third Highland Jarl. We have held the title of Jarl since the days of King Olav and have prospered from one generation to the next."
	Tora wondered suddenly if this was such a good idea after all. If he once again thought of Thor and his lack of an heir....
	"My father was a true descendent of the Vikings, lusting for battle and the feel of a ship deck beneath his feet. He fought alongside our King Haakon's father, Haakon Sverresson, and sailed the world from Iceland to Byzantium. He stole my mother from Spain, and brought her to Ringebu against her will. 
	"I am told that their battles were as fierce as any war fought between men, but my father prevailed. She eventually settled down and grew to love him very much. She loved him so much, in fact, that when he broke his head from a fall from a horse and died, she withdrew from public, shunned all proposals of marriage and entered the convent at Nonneseter. She lives there yet today, cloistered and secluded."
	"Is she dark, like you?" Tora asked, watching his animated face with interest.
	"She has raven hair and warm skin. But where my eyes are blue, like my father's, hers are hazel. My skin is much fairer than hers, I fear."	
	"She sounds beautiful. Did she bear your father many children?"
	"Four. All boys except the last babe. I was firstborn and thrived, I am told, from the start. The next child was born dead. The old wives claimed an axe handle was unwittingly replaced while my mother bore the babe."
	Tora crossed herself. There were many such things to remember as a woman and her unborn babe hovered in the vulnerable state between life and death. Evil spirits lurked about, just waiting to steal the life of a babe from its mother's womb. 
	"My third brother, Henning, grew up to be a bold lad. He fought alongside me against the Scots in the Hebride islands. The pup was unlucky and caught an arrow through the throat. My father was there also, and we comforted him as best we could as his life ebbed from him. We were able to bring him home. That he lay not dead afield comforted my mother."
	"My sister Lizbeth lived for six years, but died from the plague that swept the country ten years ago. You remember it, may chance?" 
	Tora nodded. She had been a child at the time, about the same age as his sister, she realized. The sickness had spread through the country as if borne on the wind, and many had died, including her stepmother and her children.
	"My mother faded a little with the loss of each child until she was just a shadow of her vibrant self," Magnus continued, his voice low. "My father decided to take her back to Spain. He thought that the warm climate and a visit to her own family might revive her spirit. I accompanied them, and had a chance to study the sciences of the Mediterranean. 
	"My mother and I remained away from Norway for a year and a half before my father summoned us home. She came back to him her old self, fire in her eyes and a bloom in her cheeks. Then the foolish bastard went and got himself killed."
	Tora sat in silence, mulling over this romantic tale. She was sympathetic to the woman's first plight: stolen away from home by a man as fierce as the one sitting next to herself and plopped down in a foreign environment with no friends or family to console her. Yes, she knew very well how that young woman must have felt.
	"Did your father's family say nothing when he brought back a foreigner to wife?"
	"Oh, yes. The mountains virtually shook with the reverberations of the battle of wills between my father and my grandsire, as I have heard the tale told. But my father was want to get his own way, just as his son is," Magnus finished pointedly. He flashed her a smile, his eyes meeting hers, leaving her in no doubt as to the truth of his words.
	"I...I'll get us more ale," Tora said, tearing her gaze from his. Her hand trembled and she spilled ale as she ladled it from the pot next to the fire into their cups. By the saints! The man could unnerve her so!
	They sat without speaking then. Tora avoided looking at Magnus. She stared into the fire, instead, mulling over the fate of his mother. Imagine a love so great that life ceased to have meaning when her heartmate was stolen prematurely from her. Tora sighed.
	"Tora, let us seek our bed. This is the last of the wood, and the cabin will soon grow chilled."
	"You cannot possibly sleep with only your cloak, Magnus. You'll catch your death of cold," she said, glancing at him from beneath her lashes. The wind howled and snow lashed about the little croft.
	"I have no intention of doing so. It will take the body heat from both of us to keep us warm this night." Magnus raised his hand to silence the protest already forming on her lips.
	"Nothing has changed, Tora. We will sleep, only." 
	Magnus stripped down to his shirt and hose, and Tora left her shift on. They crawled into the little bed together, Magnus gathering her up against him. He tucked the rugs and furs about them. Tora lay still as a stone, Magnus's warm breath in her hair, his swollen manhood in her back an uncomfortable reminder of his need for her and her obligation to him. 
	His manhood was not the only stiff thing about him. There was tension in every muscle and fiber of him, from the steel embrace about her waist to the powerful thighs pressed against the back of hers. She held her breath.
	"Mayhap 'tis better you lie behind me," Magnus ground out. Tora scrambled over him in a flash. She snuggled close, placing her arm about his waist. She heard a muffled curse.
	"Christ's blood, woman! Don't put your hand there!"
	Tora bit her lower lip and withdrew her arm so it rested between her chest and Magnus's back. The need in his voice struck an answering cord deep within her, making her blood run warmer. How long could she deny the desire he ignited within her?

(bm) Chapter 14 

Ringebu, November, 1239
	
THERE WAS little to pack. Tora  frowned down at the half-filled chest that would accompany her to Bergen. Bergen! She was to travel with Magnus to Bergen. He had said that he had no choice but to take her—he couldn't plant a son in her vessel if they were to be apart for any length of time. They would stay with the king, whom Magnus had served faithfully for many years. 
	As they had ridden back to the manor from the mountain croft, Magnus had told her of his plans. 
	"I'm leaving soon. The news from the north is not good, and the king will need my forces if he is to defeat Skule. Since I cannot make you with child if we are apart for months on end, you must come with me—if you would gain Loren back, that is." 
	Tora's heart had soared with the implications of his words. He no longer tortured her body with caresses until she cried out for his total possession of her, but left her in peace. And except for the night they had slept together out of necessity at the cottage, Magnus had kept himself from her bed. 
	Tora smiled to herself. She had seldom seen him since then, as engrossed as he was in preparations for war. When he was with her, he was as gentle and kind as she had ever dreamed. But there was a growing restlessness about him. If anyone suffered now, 'twas he. He'd acted like a caged bear as they waited for the storm's snow to melt on the mountain. She'd thought he was impatient to be back at the manor, but knew now he couldn't bear to be near her and not touch her. 
	Magnus had pulled her up behind him on his horse as they set out for Ringebu. Tora had wrapped her arms about his waist, and pressed herself against him to keep warm.
	"If you continue to do that, woman, I shall be forced to stop and take you here on a bed of snow," he declared, his voice raw with want. 
	Tora started and loosened her hold. She smiled to herself, pleased she had this power over him. Perhaps she should learn to wield it better. 
	Upon their return to Ringebu, Magnus caught her hand and led her straight away to the kitchen. Warm air blasted them as they entered the room full of perspiring women up to their elbows in flour and dough. Magnus's arm wrapped around Tora's waist and pulled her close. 
	"Maalfrid!" Magnus called. 
	All work halted as the women jumped at Magnus's forbidding tone. In front of everyone, he chastised his old housekeeper in hard words for her treachery toward Tora. The woman virtually shrank, her head bowed, her shoulders scrunched, as if the jarl's words stung her like physical blows. Tora felt almost sorry for her—almost.
	"Your actions pain me greatly, old woman, and I am sorely tempted to lock you away with no fire or comfort as you did Lady Ringebu." 
	Maalfrid hid her face in her hands, her shoulders hulking with silent sobs. 
	"Be assured that upon the next slight against the countess, I won't hesitate to do so."
	Tora smiled with pleasure as she recalled her substantial rise in status. And now Magnus would take her to Bergen, that great city on the West Coast of Norway, the main residence of the king. What more could she hope for, under the circumstances? 
	A knock on her door broke into her reverie.
	"Come in." Tora put her palm to her bosom to restrain her surprise when she saw who entered her room. "Oh." 
	"Close your jaw before it hits the floor, girl!" exclaimed Anna. She hurried to Tora and threw her arms about her. Tora hugged Anna fiercely, scarcely believing her eyes. 
	"But, but, how did you come to be here?"
	"Jarl Magnus sent for me. I have just arrived. There seems to have been some haste. I am to travel to Bergen with you—to act as your maid!" she cried. Tora's heart soared. Truly this was another sign that Magnus meant to mend his ways! 

THEY WERE an impressive sight, Tora decided, as she watched Magnus and three hundred men march out of Ringebu the day after Mortensmas. She and her father had only traveled with a handful of men. The small army that was to accompany them to Bergen awed her. Banners displaying Magnus's colors of blue and white, and the king's red and white, waved and snapped in the brisk late November wind. More men would follow as the Highlanders mobilized, but Magnus wisely left a moderate number behind to defend the region, should Skule decide to come this way. 
	Seventy-five men, including Magnus and Aksel, rode astride warhorses. Steel scull caps covered their heads and padded tabards beneath their mail would help protect them from piercing dagger and sword jabs. Quilted pants padded their thighs and high boots protected their lower legs. A variety of cloaks covered their bodies and cowls protected them from the bracing wind. Helmets were tied to their saddles, as well as provisions, sleeping rolls and weapons. Most bore shields flung behind their backs. 
	The footmen were similarly dressed, though they had strapped their gear to their backs and most held spears as well as swords, axes or bludgeons. A small group of men bore quivers of arrows and ash bows. Tora knew the force of an arrow and shuddered to think of what such a projectile would do to human flesh.
	She herself rode, layers of clothing keeping her dry and warm. She wrapped her cloak about her as a new burst of wind threatened to chill her. She fell in line behind the soldiers, joining the group of camp followers that would accompany the army on their quest. These women accompanied their men—cooking, mending and doctoring them on their journey. She looked back to check on Anna and smiled, remembering earlier this morning.
	"I cannot ride, my lord," Anna had wailed, close to tears.
	Magnus had stood before her holding the reins of her horse and scowling. "If you are to be your mistress's maid, woman, then you will damn well learn to ride now."
	"Perhaps I can be of service, Lord Ringebu?" asked a soldier who had been watching the scene. His straight dark hair was cut in a bowl fashion and framed twinkling hazel eyes. A white scar from cheek to mouth tugged at one side of his cheerful smile, the only mar to an otherwise attractive face. 
	Magnus waved his hand in defeat. "By all means, Henrik, lend me your assistance. Put this goose on your horse with you 'til she gains confidence. Between now and Oslo, I want to see her riding on her own." Magnus strode away, others demanding his attention.
	Anna spoke animatedly to Henrik who held her before him on his horse. He smiled and listened attentively, his head cocked to one side. He nodded and wrapped his arm about Anna's waist. Tora gave a wistful sigh as she watched the pair.
	The army wound its way down into the valley of Gudbrandsdale, passing the jarl's tenant farms, larger farms owned by independent yeomen and one of the jarl's mills. Tora watched in fascination as the great waterwheel revolved, its rhythmic slap-slap sounds as its wooden blades hit the water attesting to its use. At harvest time, the mill was used to grind grain into flour. Today it fulled woolen cloth. 
	Tora could imagine the large cam inside turning tirelessly, its wooden cogs endlessly lifting wooden sledge hammers and dropping them onto the wool which rested in a turning vat filled with water, fullers earth, urine, lime and sand. Three women paused in their work of hanging the heavy, fulled cloth upon wooden tenter frames to shout and wave to the passing men. Full of anticipation and excitement, Tora felt she was on tenterhooks, herself.
	They continued to follow Gudbrandsdale and the river Logan until early evening caught up with them. Anna grimaced as she lowered herself to the ground next to Tora with the greatest care. The going had been slow and the day in the saddle had been long, with very few breaks. 
	"Please, do not make me do that again," Anna groaned.
	"It did not seem that you suffered so terribly," Tora answered. Anna's cheeks bloomed with color and her eyes danced. Shame for her envy of Anna and her sharp tongue coursed through Tora. She must not begrudge Anna what she herself had been denied this past half year. 
	"Forgive me, Anna," she said taking her friend's hand in her own. "I only meant that it seems you have found a friend." 
	Anna smiled back. "He is so kind and handsome," she sighed. "Did you know he was placed in the service of the jarl when he was only ten? He told me the jarl has shown him only kindness—except for once when he punished him for riding his lordship's prize stallion," she laughed. "He said he could not sit down for days!"
	Tora grimaced. She knew very well what it felt like to be on the receiving end of Magnus's wrath. She bit her lip to keep a caustic remark from slipping out. Anna did not know about her life at Ringebu, and while she hoped to share all with her friend, she didn't think this was the time to do so.
	"I will go fetch us something to eat," she said instead and rose. She had no more than come to her feet, when Henrik approached them, carrying a bowl laden with food.
	"I thought the two of you might like supper after our hard march today," he offered, bowing. 
	"Please sit," Tora said. She jabbed a sharp elbow into Anna's side. Anna had been staring at Henrik the whole time. 
	"Ouch!" Anna cried, glaring at her. Tora looked archly at Anna, conveying without words how foolishly she behaved. Anna blushed and averted her eyes, keeping her gaze on her hands in her lap.
	The three of them enjoyed a friendly meal of crumbly oatcakes and jerky, washed down with ale that Henrik had brought in a skin.
	"Jarl Magnus has had word that there are too few boats at Lillehammer to sail us down Lake Mjøsa to Eidsvoll. We'll have to break up our large party when we reach Lillehammer," he said. "His lordship will take as many as he can with him by boat, while the rest will continue by land to Oslo. It means a couple days added to our journey—more if it should snow."
	"Do you know which party Lady Tora and I will ride with?" Anna asked, echoing Tora's own thoughts. 
	Henrik smiled down into her anxious eyes. "No, Anna, that I do not. But 'tis likely Lady Tora will accompany his lordship."
	"In which party will you ride?" Anna asked. 
	Henrik sat up straighter and puffed out his chest. "I am to ride with the jarl." 
	Anna looked relieved. The two of them broke off into quiet conversation and Tora felt out of place. She stood up, said a brief goodnight to Anna and Henrik and left them to wander around the camp. 
	There were many fires lit and she could see the outline of couples sleeping together. Here and there the shapes moved beneath the blankets. Tora shivered with cold as she considered the warmth they were sharing, not only body warmth, but the warmth which she had seen in the eyes of Henrik and Anna as they looked at each other. She'd never felt more alone in her life. 
	She picked her way down to the shore of the broad river, carefully placing each foot to avoid tripping on the myriad of stones that poked up through the ground. The rhythm of the rushing water was soothing music to her ears. The wind had died down and a million twinkling stars shone down upon her, their light reflected off the ripples in the river. She wrapped her arms about herself and sighed.
	"'Tis quite beautiful here, is it not?" Magnus whispered in her ear. 
	Tora jumped, disconcerted by his stealth. Magnus wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. He had removed his mail and felt so solid and warm against her. Tired and lonely, she accepted his company, relaxing against his large frame. They stood there for a long time, neither one seeming to want to break the peace between them.
	"Come, Tora, 'tis time we sought our bed."
	"But, you said that I—"
	"I said that I will not take you till you want me to," he asserted, his arms tightening about her. "But that does not mean that you will not share my bed. 'Tis cold sleeping on the hard frozen ground. Besides, it would awake suspicion among my men if you slept elsewhere. For all appearances, Tora, we must present ourselves as a normal married couple."
	Tora could not think of anything less normal than their marriage, but she declined to say so. She did not want to risk losing this brief moment of respite from their quarrels and heated passions.
	"Come," Magnus repeated, releasing her. 
	She shivered at the sudden loss of his warmth. He took her hand and led her to a campfire where his bedroll lay ready. He laid down first, covering himself with his cloak and a blanket and holding them up for her. 
	Tora hesitated, not sure if she could trust him. There was very little she could do if her lord husband decided to take her. She could not cry out or fight him here in front of all of his men and humiliate both herself and him. 
	Magnus scowled at her, and she hastened to lower herself beside him. He was not satisfied with that, and with an impatient noise, drew her to him, molding her curves against his length. Tora held her breath, ill at ease.
	"By the saints, Tora, I gave you my word," he said. "You are stiff as a board. Go to sleep; we have a long journey ahead of us." 
	Tora thought sleep would be impossible so close to Magnus, his scent of leather and masculine sweat filling her nostrils, his latent strength and patience barely held in check. She forced herself to think of their night at the croft. He had kept his word then, and he would do so again, she decided. Allowing herself to relax, she drifted off to sleep, warm and safe within his arms.

TORA SAT WITH Anna, huddled around a small brazier with glowing coals. She thrust her hands toward its core of heat, very aware of the cold drafts along her back as frigid air fell around them from the close walls of a public house. They hadn't dared remove their cloaks. Outside, a few flakes of snow drifted in the air. 
	Having just finished four days of journeying from Ringebu to Oslo, Tora was weary. She'd been glad to sit and rest, with Anna for company and a cup of hot ale warming her insides, but now she grew restless. She wondered how Magnus fared. He and Aksel had been gone a long time. How long could it take to arrange for vessels to sail the army to Bergen? 
	As if hearing her silent call to him to return, Magnus entered the room, grumbling, his mouth drawn in dissatisfied lines. 
	"You look as if you just drank curdled milk," Tora said. "Have things not gone as they should?" 
	He shook his head. "I have arranged for boats to take us to Bergen, but there are not enough to carry the whole army. We must sail to Tønsberg and arrange for more to come back to Oslo to collect the remainder." 
	Magnus would have Aksel and a handful of men stay behind to meet up with the marching army. They were expected in four more days. It would mean several days delay in their arrival in Bergen.

A BRISK BREEZE blew as they set sail out of Oslo fjord the next morning. Tora's gaze sought out Magnus who stood on the bow in deep discussion with the captain. He seemed as at ease on the swaying vessel as he did on land. She stood at the stern with Anna, fascinated by the landscape that flashed by them. 
	She had never sailed on the sea and found the splash of salt water in her face and the calling of seagulls foreign, yet exciting. Tora looked down into the gray water as it rushed past the sleek sides of the ship and then up again. She swallowed hard. The motion of the ship and the waves made her stomach churn a little. 
	"Tora, are you all right?" asked Anna, concern in her brown eyes.
	"Yes, I'm fine. Perfectly fine," she answered, her voice grim. She hoped she spoke the truth. She was glad Magnus had said they would reach Tønsberg before nightfall.

TØNSBERG, ONE of the largest and most active trading centers in Norway, teemed with merchants and ships. Even in November, foreign ships were docked along the quay. Their holds were full of spices, grain and fine cloth from around the world or loaded with Norwegian timber and dried fish bound for their homelands. Everywhere people shouted and hailed one another, vendors eager to sell their wares and haggle over prices.
	Magnus scowled at the look of excitement that shone in Tora's face as she looked every-which-way, attempting to absorb everything at once. He brightened, however, as he considered the opportunity her good mood might bring him. Perhaps she would be more receptive to his courting. His loins felt heavy, and his balls ached with the need to empty his seed. Damnation! He became aroused just thinking about it!
	Magnus ordered his captains to march the small army outside Tønsberg to set up camp. In the meantime, he took Tora and Anna to the citadel above the city that housed the king and his court when they were in residence. He didn't find the citadel as comfortable as the manor house at Ringebu, but at least the thick walls kept out the bite of winter. 

"THE MAN WAS so besotted with her that he—" 
	"Now, Jon, that's no talk for the ears of a recently wed young woman!"
	Tora smiled at the two across from her. She had made her acquaintance with Jon Nev and his wife Kristin just that morning and had enjoyed the stream of light-hearted banter the two kept up. They were so alike, they could have been twins instead of husband and wife. Towheaded, with the bloom of health in their cheeks, the two smiled at one another, their eyes bright with mutual affection.
	That's how it should be between spouses. She looked up as Magnus entered the Hall. He'd been gone since early morning, arranging for vessels to sail his army to Bergen. Her eyes followed his every move, taking in his athletic build and his handsome face. Would things ever be so good between them as between Jon and Kristin? 
	Magnus smiled at her and she found herself smiling back. Her heart beat faster when he came to her and kissed her hand.
	"My dear," he began, "I have a surprise for you. If you will kindly go up to our chamber, I will bring it up to you presently." 
	Magnus must have seen her surprise at his announcement, for he gave her hand a slight squeeze. His smile remained on his face, but his eyes gave her clear warning not to cause a scene.
	"Thank you, my lord," she said and rose to her feet.
	"My lord, how you dote on your wife. One would think that she were your lover and not your spouse," Nev said. 
	"I do not hold with the popular opinion that a wife should be revered and glorified, while passion and romance are reserved only for dalliances, sir," Magnus rebuffed. 
	Tora snorted and then coughed to cover her amusement at the irony of his statement. In her own case, 'revered' and 'glorified' were a bit extreme, to say the least. Before she could embarrass herself any further, she said goodbye and retreated to her room.
	Tora waited in her bedchamber, jumping when she heard the door squeak on its hinges. In strode Magnus, a self-satisfied look on his face. Two women followed him, on their heels two boys whose arms were laden with bolt after bolt of material. Magnus motioned for them to be placed on the bed. A rainbow of silk shimmered in the soft candlelight that kept the darkness of early evening at bay. Bolts of linen and wool complemented the arrangement.
	"Since we will be staying in Bergen, Tora, you will need clothes which befit your station as my wife," Magnus stated. He fingered a particularly fine indigo blue fustian. "These women are the finest seamstresses in Tønsberg. They will sew you undergarments and two gowns that you will need upon our arrival at Sverresborg castle in Bergen. I thought you might like to choose the materials yourself."
	Tora looked down at her crisp linen blouse covered by a long woolen kirtle dyed blue with madder root. The frocks neat lines fell to her feet, reined in only by the loose silver linked belt she wore around her hips. She took offence at his suggestion that she was not properly dressed.
	"There is nothing wrong with the clothes that I have! They are neat and clean. I have colored, spun, and woven this cloth with my own hands."
	"I will not suffer to present my wife to the king in the clothing of yeomen!" Magnus waved the two seamstresses from the room. "Why must you always be so damned obstinate? All women love to be finely dressed, do they not? I've yet to meet a woman at court who didn't preen and fuss about her clothing." 
	Tora bristled at his words. She certainly was not one to preen! She watched as Magnus picked up a bolt and thrust it toward her.
	"Do you not like the materials, Tora? Come and look at them. Touch them. I am sure you will find them pleasurable. Can you not imagine how beautiful you will look in them, how soft and sensuous they will feel against your skin?" 
	Magnus was probably not aware that his voice had become husky and urgently persuasive, but Tora was, and the lust that gleamed in his eyes alarmed her.
	"You are trying to please me so I will take you to my bed!" she spat at him. "Do you think me so fickle and vain—do you think you can buy my favors like some whore?" She refused to consider that if not for the intervention of the council, she would have been his whore.
	Magnus reached Tora in two strides and grabbing her by the shoulders, shook her a moment. "Ungrateful, ignorant woman. Perhaps it is another lashing you need from me, not silks!" 
	Tora's eyes stung with hot tears at his hurtful words, and her heart hammered as Magnus's icy blue eyes glared down at her. She pressed her palms together. Surely he would not beat her again? Suddenly he shoved her from him and turned away. 
	Magnus cursed under his breath. His anger had not dissipated but now focused on himself. She was right, of course. He had not brought the materials unselfishly to her. He had wanted to dress her up like the other ladies at court, so he might show her off like some prize stock. Yes, he wanted to please her—to break down the barrier she had set up against him and thus ease himself from his lustful suffering. He was in fact trying to buy her favors, he reluctantly admitted to himself.
	Tora watched in trepidation as Magnus's hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as he sought to gain control of himself. She feared she had pushed him too far this time. 
	"Very well. I will give you no choice in the matter, Tora." Magnus moved to open the chamber door and hustle the seamstresses back in. "I shall choose the materials myself, and you shall wear them because it pleases me." 
	Tora stood back and watched as Magnus efficiently discussed colors, trim and design with the women. She was sorry to see that the fragile truce they had nurtured between them destroyed. She remained quiet until the two women left with their orders and supplies. 
	She wanted to say something to Magnus to mend the rift between them, but she hesitated to approach him as angry as he was. Magnus regarded her from across the room, seeming to contemplate her. His face relaxed, the anger vanishing.
	"Motives aside, Tora, it is necessary that you dress appropriately for court life while we stay in Bergen," he said. "If I were to allow you to wear your homespun goods, you would be shunned by all. I would have to spend all my time defending your honor instead of stopping Skule," he teased.
	"But why did you not just say so!" Tora wanted to shake him. "Can you not be honest with me? Why pretend to be doing this just to please me?"
	"Come here, and I will make the reason clear to you," Magnus answered, his rich voice vibrating with a primitive emotion that triggered a physical response deep within her. 
	His eyes held her transfixed with their intensity, and she found herself drawn to him. She moved before him, mesmerized by the blue eyes that glowed with white fire. Now, she could see the storm of emotions raging within them. She was about to turn and flee when Magnus caught her about the waist and bent his head to hers.
	He kissed her hungrily, venting his physical frustrations upon her soft lips as he invaded her mouth and sought her submission. 
	Tora's body tingled in response, came alive to his caresses. Confused emotions whirled in her mind. She ached with wanting him, and the thought of erasing the unhappy lines from his face was alluring. It would be far better for both of them if she did so. If she were honest with herself, she wanted his caresses. 
	But she must not let her emotions guide her. If she did, she would be lost. She would lose her heart to her noble husband—the strong and capable man who lead his people with so much compassion, the man who filled her senses and life with such exquisite pleasure—not the angry, overbearing one who stood before her, now. 
	She couldn't bear to think of what heartbreak she would experience when that same man cast her away at the end of two years time. Better that he remain cross with her, so she might wrap her affection and desire in a protective shell of discourse and disdain. This man would destroy her father! She willed herself to gain control. She relaxed in his arms and then shoved him heavily away as he loosened his grip.
	"No! I will not have you this way!"
	Magnus stared at her, his breathing ragged. "As you will," he said, after composing himself. His face had become an emotionless mask, something she was growing to hate. "But, you will wear these gowns if I have to dress you myself, and you shall woe the day that I must attend you!" 
	Magnus strode from the room, slamming the door behind him. He had thought she would like the gowns, and thank him for them. The women he knew would fulfill his every whim for such costly gifts. He didn't understand Tora, and he regretted his decision to wait for her to ask him back into her bed. He had been sure this gift would soften her regard for him, and instead, he had lost ground with her. What did she want from him?

(bm) Chapter 15

THREE HUNDRED men, equipment and horses create quite a ruckus. Shouts and whinnies broke the howling of the wind off the sea as frightened mounts skittishly balked at crossing the gangplanks at the wharf in Tønsberg. 
	Tora watched one particular stallion with growing anxiety; she feared the fine animal would be injured. Magnus had told her to stay out of the way, and reluctant though she was to break a promise, her concern for the animal overrode her word to obey him in public. She hurried up to the dock, removing her wimple from about her head as she went. 
	"Here," she shouted to the soldier fighting to remain in control of the horse. "Place this cloth about his head so he cannot see!" 
	"I cannot let him go," the soldier called to her, all his energy used to control the shying beast. "You'll have to do it yourself!"
	Aware of the danger, Tora none-the-less stepped up to the horse. The frightened steed tossed its head away from the flapping cloth, eyes rolling and ears pressed flat against its skull. Tora muttered a curse. She was too short to reach the steed's tossing head!
	Magnus stood on the deck of a ship, catching the wink of white cloth in the wind out of the corner of his eye. He stared in disbelief as Tora fought to stay the frantic beast before her. Her hair blew in the wind, long blond tresses whipping about her face, as she tried to reach the stallion's head. She could be trampled! Aksel stepped in front of him just as he moved to go to her.
	"Get out of my way, man! Can you not see what the foolish girl is doing? She's going to get herself killed!" 
	Aksel raised a brow, as if amused by his chief's vehemence.
	"Wait, my lord. Give her a chance. She seems to know what she's doing." Aksel placed a staying hand on Magnus's arm.
	Magnus watched as another soldier saw Tora's dilemma and came to her aid. After several tries, he managed to tie the cloth about the horse's head, blinding him. 
	Magnus waited no longer. He shook off Aksel's arm, and his great strides ate up the distance between himself and Tora. Tora held the stallion's muzzle, speaking soothing words to him. The steed settled, his flanks rippling occasionally with fear. 
	The horse had quieted by the time Magnus reached her, but his own blood still boiled. He gripped Tora around the waist and tossed her over his shoulder. With one hard firm hand upon her bottom, the other wrapped tightly about the backs of her knees, he carried her with him until he found an isolated spot between two sheds.
	Tora found herself set none to gently on her feet before Magnus.
	"Just what the hell did you think you were doing over there!" he shouted, towering over her, his face red with annoyance. "I leave you for just two minutes, and you end up in the thick of things!" 
	"I was fine! I knew that horse needed to be subdued, and I knew how to do it! What the hell do you think you are doing hauling me away from there like some disobedient child?" she shouted back. 
	"Watch your filthy mouth, woman!" he roared at her for swearing. "You could have gotten yourself killed!"
	"And what would you have cared if I did?" She glared up at him, still sore from their last altercation.
	Magnus scowled at her, his steaming breath in the cold air, looking unsettlingly like smoke. He gripped both of her arms and shook her like a rag doll. When he let her go with no warning, she lost her balance and fell to the ground. 
	Magnus looked down at her, her bosom heaving, her face flushed but lacking any sign of remorse. He ran his hand through his hair in exasperation, making no motion to help her up. He drew a breath and grappled with his anger.
	"In case you have forgotten, you are to bear me a son," he answered, suddenly realizing he would care very much if something happened to her. "I cannot afford to have you injured or killed, any more than you can." 
	"Oh, of course, my lord High and Mighty. How foolish of me to have forgotten my one service in life!" Tora didn't care that he continued to glower at her. But she swallowed hard when he turned and slammed his fist into the timber wall behind him once, and then again. 
	He flexed his scraped and bruised hand. "I swear, Tora, if you do not follow my orders to stay put, I will tie you hand and foot to keep you out of trouble." With these ominous words, Magnus stomped off.
	Tora stood up, seething, and roughly brushed her skirts and adjusted her clothing. How dare he treat her like his prized brood mare! And why was he so angry, anyway? 
	All right. She had disobeyed him, but she didn't understand why he had reacted so strongly. She had just tried to be helpful and he had reacted as if...as if he cared she might get hurt. He had said it was only because she owed him a son, but was it? Could it be that he cared about her, at least a little? Tora frowned and shook her head as she made her way back to the camp followers. Impossible. She was just a means to an end to him. 
	She had just finished braiding her untamed hair when Anna spied her.
	"His Lordship looks like the devil himself!" she exclaimed. "What have you done, now?"
	"What have I done! What have I done!" Tora tossed clothes near and far as she dug in her chest for a new clout to cover her hair. She gave up when she reached the bottom and felt her bow and her magpie-feathered arrows. She threw her hands up in defeat. 
	"Heaven forbid that the jarl should accept any blame for his own actions. He doesn't let me forget that he is the master, but each time he gets angry, I hear that it is my fault. Be submissive, Tora; do as he tells you, humble yourself—that's all I hear! Well, I tell you, Anna Eddasdatter, that I will not be cowed. If my actions anger the jarl, then that's his problem!" Tora stomped off, leaving a flabbergasted Anna in her wake. 

TORA AVOIDED Magnus on the ship as they sailed to Bergen, and he seemed disinclined to seek her out, too. She hadn't forgiven his rough handling of her on the wharf in Tønsberg. Brooding over it wouldn't do any good, though, and the trip to Bergen gave her plenty of opportunity to forget about their clash for a while. 
	Tora found to her relief that her first qualms about sailing dissipated and she delighted in the zest of the sea breeze and the dancing blue waters around her. The vessels sailed smoothly through the North Sea and Tora spent hours gazing at the landscape. 
	The southern coast of Norway was so different from Loren's rugged forests. Gentle hills with slopes of naked rock seemed to tumble into the sea. The land became flatter and treeless, the shores strewn with giant gray stones as they sailed by Jæren and past Stavanger. In the background, dark blue shadows and white tops of the mountain ranges cleaved their way through the western section of Norway, plunging vertically two thousand feet into fjords and narrow valleys, making travel by land extremely difficult, if not impossible. The ships wove their way among the many islands that dotted the ragged coastline, shielding them from the buffeting winds of the North Atlantic, finally bringing them to their destination.
	Tora was almost sorry to see the journey end, but forgot her regret as the city of Bergen came into sight. The city lay pinioned between imposing forested ridges and the sea. Houses, workshops and wharves clung to the shoreline on a narrow band of land at the foot of the rugged masses. 
	Upon disembarking, Magnus took her to a serving place where she could bathe and change before her introduction to the King and Queen of Norway. Now she looked out the window, waiting for her bath.
	With a knock on the door, two maids entered carrying steaming buckets of water. Behind them, a burly man bore a huge wooden tub. From her chest Tora withdrew a small pouch. Taking a handful of dried herbs and flowers from it, she threw them into the tub before undressing and lowering herself into the hot bath. 
	When Magnus entered the room, Tora's cheeks were flushed with heat and tendrils of blond hair curled about her face. Anna had come and washed away the salt stiffening her hair. Now her locks hung over the side of the tub, brushing the timber floor. 
	If Tora could have blushed then, she would have. The hunger in his eyes burned right through her. The same fire had shone in his eyes in Tønsberg when he had made her aware of his barely controlled desire for her. A devilish idea came to her then and filled her with impish delight.
	"Hmm," Tora sighed. "I feel much better now. Will you bathe, Magnus?" 
	Magnus lifted one eyebrow. He smiled down at her, his eyes intense and penetrating.	"I thank you for the invitation, Tora, but there is hardly room enough in that tub for the both of us." 
	"I meant that I am finished. The water is still hot." Tora stood up then, water streaming down her limbs. Her hair came about her like a silken veil. Magnus's breath hissed through thinly pressed lips, and Tora reveled. 
	Magnus picked up a large cloth and wrapped it about her as she stepped from the bath. His arms tightened about her for a moment, and she leaned against him, making sure he could feel her breasts pressing against his chest before pushing him away. She allowed the cloth to fall to her hips and she could feel his eyes on the curve of her spine as she swayed to the bed. 
	"A warm bath would be good," he murmured, undressing, "but perhaps a cold one would better serve the purpose." 
	Tora smiled, let the cloth fall, and bent from the waist to scoop up her shift from the floor. The tension in the air was palpable as she donned the shift, letting the material glide over her peaked breasts, down across her smooth belly and rounded hips. Magnus's physical arousal was obvious. The knowledge that he responded to the mere sight of her naked body and that he would not force her gave Tora a surge of power and confidence. 
	Finding a cloth and another bit of soap, she washed Magnus's hair and his back. She slid the cloth around to his broad chest and scrubbed, her arm gradually descending below the surface of the water, lower and lower. Magnus drew in a sharp breath and grabbed her hand, nearly pulling her in on top of him. Water sloshed over the sides of the tub, splashing onto the wooden floor.
	"Enough, vixen," he said, his voice hoarse, and abruptly rose from the tub. 
	Sitting on her heels and enjoying herself, Tora watched Magnus as he stalked across the floor and vigorously dried himself. With every jerky movement of the cloth, she became more pleased.
	"Now you know what it is like to be at someone else's mercy," she said baldly. "You've probably never been in such a situation before, have you? I can tease you, or not. I can bed you, or not. Now, I am in control, and you are not. I may not be able to pack a powerful punch, but I have other weapons to disarm you with, don't I?" 
	She sucked in a breath and held it as the toweling stopped and Magnus turned to her, unrestrained lust and deep anger reflected in his eyes. She stood in haste and took a quick step back as he rapidly closed the space between them, her desire to make Magnus sorry for his ill treatment of her not working quite as she had planned.
	"Such shrewish behavior does not become you, Tora," he admonished. "I see the game that you would play and I am not amused. You wield this new weapon of yours rashly and with great ineptness, and any weapon in the hands of a novice is a dangerous thing. 'Tis one I have been thoroughly tutored in, though, and 'twould be remiss of me should I not show you its true power." 
	Magnus grabbed her upper arms and forced her back until her knees met the bed and she folded upon it. She tried to struggle against him and rise up, but he caught her wrists in one hand and brought them over her head. She twisted and tried to slide away, but he straddled her with his powerful thighs. She cried out, hearing the ripping of cloth as Magnus tore her shift open, exposing her naked flesh to his sight.
	"No, Magnus, stop! You gave me your word!"
	"Me thinks 'tis a lesson you need this day, Tora," he murmured, his lips poised above one rosy nipple. His breath fanned warm against her sensitive skin and she shivered. Her nipples hardened and her stomach tightened from the intensity of his desire as he stared at her naked flesh.
	"Two lessons. First, there is a very fine line between the exquisite agony of sensual teasing and the calculated, painful torture of going too far, my sweet." 
	Tora gasped as Magnus caught her nipple in his mouth and bit it gently. He rolled his tongue around it, sucking and teasing. Tora closed her eyes as bolts of pleasure shot from her breasts to her womb. His mouth dropped to her ribs, his tongue drawing a languid line to her navel. Tora gasped again as his tongue flickered and she arched her back instinctively closer to him. 
	"You crossed that line with me, just now, and me thinks you need know what it feels like. The other lesson is for you to know, really know in your heart, who your master is." 
	Magnus brought her hands down onto her stomach and held them there. He slid lower, resting his head upon her soft inner thigh, telling her in no uncertain terms all that he would do to her.

TORA RODE NEXT to Magnus in front of the procession to Sverresborg castle. Each movement of the horse beneath her was a subtle reminder of the sweet torture Magnus had put her through earlier in the day. If she closed her eyes, the image of them together came back to her as vividly as if it were still taking place. 
	"Who is your master, Tora?" he'd demanded.
	"No one!" 
	He teased her, his free hand and mouth caressing and stroking her until she was on fire. "Who is your master, whose command do you obey?"
	"My own!"
	Again and again he brought her to the brink of climax, only to withdraw before giving her the release she sought until, finally, when he asked her again, she cried out his name, her voice filled with desperation. Magnus was not satisfied.
	Oh, how she had wanted him! She had begged him to let her caress him in turn, to feel him claim her, but he denied her these things. He made her feel wanton, yearning, on fire.
	"Now you know what it is like to cross that fine line," he whispered in her ear when he released her from his binding grip.
	"Please, Magnus, please," she pleaded, thoroughly chastised. Her hands clenched and unclenched in the bedding. "I can not bear it!"
	"Tell me what it is you can not bear."
	"Please..."
	"Who is your master, Tora, who?"
	A small whimper escaped her as she realized her body had betrayed her. There was no longer room for rage, for frustration or a worthless demand for justice. In their place was an incredible need to capitulate, to please. Because it was only through pleasing, satisfying this man, that she could find satisfaction herself. He had taught her that. He had made her his slave, but at this moment, that did not matter. In a soft, quiet voice filled with longing she answered, "You, my lord husband."
	"Hush now," he said, his fingers caressing her silky soft flesh. He slid his hand down into the triangle of hair at the apex of her thighs. With his thumb and fingers, he probed for the nub that could bring her so much pleasure. Tora moaned as he found it. 
	As the pleasure deepened and his caresses intensified, her hands came down to clutch his hair. The world exploded and she cried out, arching her back, her eyes tightly shut as she spasmed beneath him. She came to herself and opened her eyes to find Magnus regarding her. He smiled at her and gave her a gentle kiss on her lips.
	"Have you learned your lesson, Tora?"
	"I hate you," she whispered, turning her face away. A single hot tear ran down the side of her face. Magnus brushed the tear away with his thumb and his chest rumbled against her as he chuckled.
	"Be careful, my sweet. Hate is a very strong emotion. Some say akin to love. But is it me you hate, or your body for betraying you so?"
	Magnus's words echoed in her mind as his touch still echoed on her flesh. She had lied to him. She no longer hated him. She longed for him when he was gone; thoughts of him filled her every waking moment. Tora sighed. Again, she had tried to best him, to push him far away from her heart, and had lost.
	That was the last time she would provoke him so, she vowed to herself. All she did was provide him with the opportunity to reassert his mastery over her, to remind her of the fact that she belonged to him and was subject to his every whim.
	The sounds and sights of Bergen woke her from her troubled thoughts. The afternoon sun hung low in a pale-blue December sky, splashing the city with a ruddy glow. In another hour it would be dark. Numerous one-storied timber buildings stood in neat rows, looking well kept and prosperous. Boats and ships bobbed at the docks of the bay. The tang of sea air and fish permeated the air. Black-headed gulls flew overhead, their nagging screeches filling the clear, sharp air. Men dressed in strange garb were everywhere, and her ears picked up the voices of many foreign lands. 
	"Magnus, look! Where are those men from?" Tora exclaimed, forgetting in her excitement to ignore him. She pointed out to him two olive skinned men with black hair who were leaving a smithy's place. 
	"Byzantium, me thinks," Magnus said. "Bergen is a well known trading center in the world, Tora, as is Tønsberg. That is why you are able to dress in such finery."
	Tora wished Magnus hadn't reminded her of her gown. Pensively, she recalled what happened after he had left her exhausted and contrite in her chamber this morning. He had returned a short time later and handled her a wrapped parcel.
	"There you are, Tora. Open it," he commanded when she didn't make a move toward the package. 
	She could see he was annoyed by her reluctance, and with her recent chastisement at his hands far too fresh in her mind, she hastened to do as he asked. Unfolding layers of oilcloth, Tora uncovered a yellow woolen gown patterned with flowers. She had never seen the like. She was used to solid colored cloth, dyed with the extracts of roots or leaves or berries. Along with the gown were a fine silk chemise and a gossamer white veil to cover her hair. A green shawl matched the leaves in the pattern of the dress. 
	Tora picked up the gown and held it before her. At least the bodice was cut high for the cold of winter and did not expose her breasts as her wedding gown had. The sleeves were long, the ends coming to a point, tassels dangling from their ends. The cut was simple, but slim, and Tora blushed when she imagined how it would hug her curves.
	"'Tis for you to wear today. You will meet the king, queen, many other nobles and their wives. As my wife, you must be dressed appropriately." 
	With their last altercation over clothing still fresh in her mind, Tora didn't protested.
	Anna helped Tora dress in her finery before they set out for Sverresborg castle, her lips pressed tightly together in distaste of the gown. Tora was glad her friend refrained from saying anything. She knew that Anna thought of the condemnation of the priests who said clothing that defined womanly curves were an insult to God. Such attire flaunted the mistakes that He had purposely made in woman's form. The perfect shape was that of the straight man, the priests preached.
	A boy knocked on the door, bearing a small chest with him. Magnus opened it and withdrew a gold linked belt that Anna fastened about Tora's waist so that it rested on her hips. The weight of the extra length of chain drew the belt down into a soft V-shape and further emphasized her shapeliness. Next, Magnus brought forth a silver cross on a chain. Carved with curves and curls the cross held a ruby that shone with an inner fire of its own. Magnus, himself, placed it about her neck. The necklace rested heavily against her bosom. His eyes raked over her, clearly pleased with the result of his efforts.
	Tora's horse stumbled. Her clothes were forgotten as she concentrated on staying in the saddle. She spoke to her mount as the glossy red mare worked her way up the road to the castle. 
	Sverresborg castle stood above the main city, its various stone and dirt ramparts creating a protective barrier around the chief residence of the King of Norway. Tora strained her neck to catch a glimpse of the main buildings as they rode by, but did not see them clearly until they had ridden up through the gates and into the courtyard. 
	The Great Hall stood large and imposing, fashioned of cut gray stones, its walls dotted with small windows well above the height of a man. A narrow wooden outer stairwell led to a door high above the courtyard, as added protection against assault. 
	Corridors connected the Hall to other similarly built buildings. Tora shivered as she imagined the darkness and cold she would meet within. The idea of meeting royalty and strangers made her uneasy, too. Her thoughts were interrupted as Magnus caught her about the waist and lowered her to the ground. They turned to face a castle footman.
	"Lord Ringebu, how good to see you again." 
	"'Tis good to see you too, Dag," replied Magnus with a clap on the other man's shoulder.
	"Please come with me, the king awaits your presence."
	Once inside the Great Hall, Magnus and Tora removed their cloaks. Tora delighted to find that dozens of mounted oil lamps bathed all but the darkest recesses of the room with warm, yellow light. Keeping a firm hand on her elbow, Magnus led her up the length of the Hall. Their footsteps echoed hollowly in the high-ceilinged room. 
	Tora hung back as Magnus went forward and knelt on one knee before King Haakon and Queen Margrete. Both sat in richly carved high-seats. Power and authority exuded from them. Magnus removed his hat and kept his head bowed until the king recognized his presence.
	"Jarl Magnus," King Haakon began. "Rise, friend. 'Tis our good fortune that you have come to us in our hour of need. Do you not agree, my dear?" King Haakon turned to Queen Margrete and smiled at her.
	"Indeed, Your Majesty, it warms our hearts to see our bravest warrior among us. You look to be in good health, Magnus. We have heard that you have remarried. Is this your wife?" 
	Tora was glad the queen refrained from saying what else she had heard about the circumstances surrounding his marriage.
	"Your Highness, may I present to you my wife, Lady Tora, Countess of Ringebu?" Magnus turned to Tora and motioned her to come closer.
	Tora's uncertainty lessened as Magnus smiled reassuringly at her. She came forward and curtsied, remaining so until the queen acknowledged her.
	"You may rise, Tora of Ringebu. 'Tis good fortune that the jarl has found such a comely bride." The queen smiled at Magnus, a mischievous glint in her eye. "The story that you have at last met your match in a willful woman has preceded your arrival. The court has amused itself immensely at your expense, we fear. We look forward very much to acquainting ourselves with this warrioress who refuses to be tamed by you." 

(bm) Chapter 16

HILDUR STOOD behind the widowed Countess Vigdis of Skegness, arranging her auburn tresses into complicated Grecian curls. Her hands trembled when she saw impatience mirrored in the countenance of the woman before her.
	"By all that is holy, girl, I will grow old and ugly before you finish! Never have I experienced such incompetence," Vigdis snapped. "I should have you whipped. Perhaps that would change your churlish attitude when serving your betters!" 
	Thirteeen year old Hildur had been lent to the countess by the queen to act as her maid. The haughty woman was ever yelling at her, and used as she was to the queen's natural grace and kindness, Hildur was scared out of her wits. Her usually competent hands fumbled and she dropped the comb. 
	"Get out, you clumsy sow! The queen shall hear about your carelessness!"
	Hildur scurried to leave the room, a small vase sailing by her head and shattering against the wall as she ducked through the door.
	Upon reaching the kitchen, Hildur plopped down on a bench and caught her breath. The head cook, Inger, glanced over at her. Seeing the girl's pallor, she wiped her plump hands on her apron and hurried over to her, her ruddy face full of concern. 
	"Oh dear, you look white as goats milk. What has happened?" 
	Hildur blurted out her woes, not only of this morning's abuse from the countess, but from the weeks she had been forced to serve the haughty woman. Inger placed a comforting arm about the girl's thin shoulders. 
	"There, there," she crooned. "Our good Queen knows you to be a good girl. She'll pay no heed to that wicked woman's talk." 
	One young dishwasher approached Hildur. His small, square face reflected her own distaste for the countess.
	"That woman is no better than you or I," he sniffed. "I heard Lady Gunna say that while she bears the title of countess, she was born to merchants here in Norway." 
	"Shame on you for listening behind doors!" Inger scolded, boxing the boy's ears. "Now, what else did you hear?" 
	"Seems her ambitious parents could not find her a rich enough suitor here, so they sought a spouse abroad," the wash boy added, rubbing his sore ears. "A count in England paid suit to her—via an emissary, mind you. He convinced her parents that this count was a good catch and they promised their daughter to him in marriage."
	"The count was a scoundrel," Ellen broke in. She'd traveled from England with her mistress, the countess. "He was a rheumatic, aging man whose life's passion was wagering and drinking. His estate had fallen into a sad state of disrepair and had been drained of its resources, due to his carousing." 
	"No father in England would give his daughter to him in marriage, and that's why he focused on finding a wife abroad. The emissary he sent to Norway  was a sly weasel of a man. A notorious liar, often connected in the most shady business about the town. He convinced Vigdis's father to marry her to the count by proxy.
	"At first, I felt sorry for Lady Vigdis, who expected a noble and got an overweight drunkard for a husband. It made me shudder on her behalf to think of that flaccid slob climbing on top of her in their marriage bed. The countess has no heart though, and is as cold as the Northern wind. Her sharp tongue and vile temper turned us all against her."
	"How did the count die?" asked Inger.
	"'Twas strange. About six months after the arrival of Lady Vigdis, he fell ill. He lost his appetite and suffered great stomach pains. Finally, he grew so weak that he kept to his bed. The countess visited him each day, but even a child could see that she didn't care about him.	
	"His end was messy. He writhed in pain, clutching his stomach and vomiting black bile. His agonized screams filled the hall for hours until God found mercy and took his soul. 'Twas a vile death, to be sure." Ellen shuddered and closed her eyes, as if to block the vision from her mind. 
	"Wouldn't surprise me if she had poisoned the old goat. She didn't seem to even care one bit what people in England thought of her; she ignored their comments about not going into proper mourning, grabbed her belongings and left England as quickly as she'd arrived. She'll set her sights on a new husband right quick; I would wager my first born on it!"

BACK IN HER room, Lady Vigdis fumed as she finished her own hair. She had rushed to prepare herself as soon as she had heard the message sent up from the quay. Jarl Magnus and a great army were marching to Sverresborg to aid the king in his efforts to do away with Skule. Her hair and attire must be perfect. Most women would not bother with such elaborateness in their coiffure, as a wimple would cover it. But the countess planned for later, when a man would remove that wimple as he undressed her and made love to her. And that man, she planned, would be Jarl Magnus.
	Vigdis knew herself to be beautiful, with her rich, auburn tresses, creamy white skin and shining green eyes. Her heart pounded faster as she remembered the jarl's sensuous lips upon hers as he kissed her in a dark foyer, molding her form to his. That had been in Tønsberg, before her marriage to that vile count. Her lips curled at the thought. Thank God she had ridden herself of him! 
	Now that she was free, she set her sights on seducing another man of high station. Jarl Magnus, not only rich and powerful, but very popular as well, would be the one. That he had remarried was a nuisance, but not an insurmountable problem. And her title should carry her far—as long as she could keep the circumstances of her husband's death hidden. 

TORA SURVEYED the sleeping chamber Magnus and she were to share. Nice sized, the room had one bed pushed up in a corner and a fireplace against the opposite wall. Tora ran her hand along the rough-hewn stones of the fireplace. She was used to them now, since her move to Ringebu. She admired the new invention. The fireplace stones soaked up the heat from the fire and released it for hours after the fire died down. Unfortunately, it also smoked a great deal, the only ventilation being the windows. At Loren, the inside walls of the houses were black from the smoke that filled the room before slipping out the ventilation hole in the roof. 
	Her eyes roamed the rest of the room. Two narrow shuttered windows would provide light during the day. Now, two wall-mounted lamps containing whale oil burned, casting long flickering shadows upon the walls around them. Her eyes rested on the bed once more.
	"Where will you sleep?" she asked Magnus. 
	"Why here, of course." He had the audacity to smile at her. 
	"I don't want you here." When he smiled like that, she certainly didn't feel like the warrioress Queen Margrete claimed her to be—more like a helpless fish on the end of a hook. Tora had to force herself to concentrate on her annoyance with him and not the way his eyes gleamed at her. It didn't help her frame of mind any that he stood there shaking his head at her, his smile broadening.
	"'Tis obvious to me, Tora, that the lessons we began this morning need to be continued."
	"No!" 
	"Yes," he chuckled. "I can see that I made a grave mistake when I kept you in a room to yourself at Ringebu. It has made you far too willful. From now on, you will share my bed and I will touch and caress you as much as I like. And, perhaps, if you behave yourself, I will give you the satisfaction of having me mount you—the next time you beg for it."
	Tora stood speechless, quivering from his sensual words, but hiding it under a cloak of annoyance. Magnus enjoyed himself at her expense! Why, if she were a man she would...Her thought was cut off as he took hold of her hand, and tucking it securely in the crook of his arm, led her through the door. 
	"Finally, some peace from your sharp tongue. Come, 'tis time to sup. I'd best feed you before you tear me apart."
	Tora sputtered in her indignation as he led her to the Hall. Passers-by gave her curious looks, but she paid them no heed. "'Twill be a cold day in Hell before I beg you, Magnus!" she muttered, denying to herself that she had already done so.
	"We shall see, my sweet, we shall see," Magnus answered, laughing.
	The evening meal was served in the Great Hall. Tables and benches were moved from their places against the wall and placed in long rows. At one end of the hall a row of tables stood raised on a dais, perpendicular to the others. The king and queen sat at these tables, surrounded by jarls and barons of the realm, including Magnus and Tora. 
	Tora fought to forget Magnus's words. He just wanted to provoke her into a physical conflict, she was sure. He looked for any excuse to touch her and persuade her to invite him to resume his husbandly duties. She couldn't hold out on him forever, but she would draw out his agony as long as she could! She drew a deep breath and turned her attentions to her surroundings.
	The ladies were dressed in elaborate gowns of silk, wool, fustian and brocade. A few had dresses with trains that trailed on the ground behind them. Some women wore extravagant wimples that fastened beneath their chins and hid all but their oval faces. Tora was suddenly glad she wore the gown Magnus had insisted upon. 
	She noted the many feminine smiles directed at Magnus and watched him nod in polite acknowledgment to each one. One woman in particular stared boldly at him and licked her lips with seductive practice as she smiled. Tora took an instant dislike to her. Her attention was interrupted though, as a nobleman approached and slapped Magnus on his back.
	"Jarl Magnus," he began, laughing. "I expected to see you limp in on crutches and lacking one arm. I thought that must be the only way a mere woman could cuckold you. Yet here you sit, whole and none the worse for wear!" 
	To Tora's profound annoyance, the man assessed her with blatant lust. "Nikolas did not lie about your lady's beauty. I can well imagine why you might creep on your belly, wagging your tail at her, rather than showing her who her master is. Of course, I would never tolerate such lack of respect from a woman, myself. If you need council on taming her..." 
	"I would remind you, Ulv, that you speak of my wife," Magnus interrupted him. 
	Tora shot a quick look at Magnus. His face revealed nothing, but his eyes blazed.
	"If you must know, I have found the lady's defiant spirit to be quite entertaining, and the taming of her equally so." 
	Tora blushed at his none-too-subtle reminder of their earlier conversation, but kept her head held high.
	Ulv's eyes gleamed at her. The hairs rose on the back of Tora's neck. 
	"'Tis always the pursuit that is most exciting, not the capture. Will you join me later, Jarl Magnus?" Ulv asked.
	"I'm afraid I am busy," Magnus answered. His eyes still blazed. 
	Tora wondered if he perhaps thought it would have been better to leave her at Ringebu. Deciding the best course of action was to let his temper cool without interference, Tora turned her thoughts to Nikolas. She had not thought about him since her punishment and was surprised to hear that he was here in Bergen. It would be good to have at least one friend among so many strangers. 
	"What are you smiling about?" Magnus growled at her. 
	"I was just thinking about how nice it will be to see Nikolas again."
	"Listen to me, Tora. I want you to stay away from Nikolas and be very careful how much attention you give the men here. The women they are used to know how to play the coquette, but you do not."
	"Naive, I may be, Magnus, but a fool I am not. I can take care of myself." 
	The meal was served then and Tora ate. Her appetite left her though as she noticed that the green-eyed woman who had caught her attention earlier kept staring malevolently at her. Tora mentally braced herself at the end of the meal, as the woman approached them.
	"Magnus, darling, I hope you have been well since last we met?" 
	Tora watched the woman place her hands upon Magnus's shoulders and lean into him. Her stomach knotted up. Who was this woman, and why did she act so familiarly with Magnus? A heavy cloying perfume wafted over them. Magnus looked up at the stranger and smiled. 
	"Lady Vigdis, 'tis a pleasure to see you," Magnus said. "Where is your husband? I have not had the pleasure of meeting him." 
	"My poor husband lies buried in England, my lord. I am again all alone in this world, vulnerable and unprotected." 
	Tora choked and Magnus thumped her back, giving her a puzzled look. Vulnerable, indeed. Every instinct told her that this woman was dangerous and not to be trusted. Magnus's lack of manners irritated her and she kicked him under the table. Magnus stared at her in surprise. She smiled sweetly back. 
	"Vigdis, I would like to present my wife, Lady Tora, Countess of the Highlands, to you. Tora, this is Vigdis, the Countess of Skegness, England." 
	Behind his back, Magnus did not see Vigdis's eyes narrow as she summed up Tora, but Tora did. She also watched as the countess' hands clutched Magnus's shoulders.
	"Such a charming girl, Magnus," Vigdis declared, her satiny voice in direct conflict with the hateful look upon her face. "How fortunate for you to have found a wife so close to home. On a neighboring farm, was it not?" 
	Magnus did not seem to pick up on the barb regarding Tora's lack of noble birth, but Tora did. Her jaw tightened and her hand jerked with the impulse to slap the pompous hussy. She forced herself to appear calm and met those calculating green eyes with a cool stare of her own.
	"That's right. The moment my lord husband laid eyes upon me, he wanted me," Tora responded, placing her hand on Magnus's forearm. She said a quick prayer of forgiveness, though her words had been true enough—just the circumstances surrounding them left untold. She watched in satisfaction as the Countess turned red, made an excuse to Magnus and left them.
	Magnus turned, an amused expression on his face, and watched as the countess left, her head held high and cheeks flushed. Tora frowned as his attention remained on the countess' swaying hips and clenched her fists in her lap. He turned back to her and gave her a speculative look. 
	"You may draw in your claws now." He paused. "Perhaps you can take care of yourself after all," he admitted.

KOLBEIN WATCHED his cousin with amusement. Vigdis virtually flew back and forth across the room, her cheeks flushed, her skirts whirling about her. She tore the wimple from her head, a cascade of hairpins flying in every direction. With impatient hands she tore at the rest of her elaborate coiffure until her long auburn hair lay in wild disarray about her angry face. 
	"Did you see her!" she nearly screamed, knotting her white hands into fists. "Ugly and dull as a winter's day. How can he stand to be with her? She is a witch who has cast a spell on him, that's how! Why else would he choose her as wife and virtually ignore me? I must think of some way to break her spell upon him."
	Kolbein's gaze never left Vigdis. He knew well that in her crafty mind she already plotted and schemed. He admired her sharp wit and looked forward to seeing how she would deal with this newest obstacle in her endeavor to secure a place at court for herself. 
	He grew excited, too, watching her swaying hips and heaving bosom. He knew the touch of her soft skin and he grew hot as he imagined the weight of her white breasts within his hands. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
	His movement caught Vigdis's eye and she turned to him, regarding him through narrowed eyes. She pursed her lips, tapping them with one finger.
	"Kolbein," she said silkily, "you could help me with my dilemma."
	"How so?" Kolbein forced his eyes reluctantly back to Vigdis's face.
	"Jarl Magnus is a very possessive man. If you were to flirt with Tora..."
	"Oh, no. I have seen the man's temper first hand. If he is as possessive as you say, he would tear me to shreds if I seduced his wife." 
	"You need not seduce the chit, just court her favor so that conflict arises between the two of them. She is so naive; it will be easy. While you embarrass Magnus by luring Tora into compromising situations, I will work my wiles on him, convincing him that he needs a more sophisticated woman by his side, and that I am that woman."
	"No, Vigdis, I will not help you in this. I like my face just the way it is and do not find a flattened nose or broken jaw flattering, thank you very much."	
	Kolbein regarded her closely. Vigdis lowered her lashes, guarding the calculating thoughts that lurked there. They had grown up together, and he knew well to be wary of her schemes.
	"Kolbein," she said, walking behind him and leaning over him to whisper in his ear. "When I win Jarl Magnus to my bed, he will pay me handsomely with gifts and jewels in gratitude for my services. I will repay you well for your help in this matter." She rested her hands lightly upon his shoulders.
	Kolbein grew eager. His purse barely jingled, and he had drawn on the generosity of friends and acquaintances as much as he had dared. Still....
	"You ask that I woo the wife of one of the most powerful warriors in the country, a man known for his temper and strength, and put my life at risk should he feel that I overstep my boundaries, for the chance of payment sometime in the future?" 
	Her warm softness so close at hand made it hard for him to concentrate. His loins ached with longing as she teased him with her proximity. She believed she could beguile him with her womanly wiles, but he had other ideas and smiled a slow, easy smile. He reached up and grabbed one of Vigdis's hands. 
	"Me thinks, dear Cousin, that we must make an arrangement now, a sort of down payment, if you will." His thumb stroked the skin along her wrist and he felt her pulse quicken.
	Vigdis's lip curled in derision. He need not elaborate about what kind of "down-payment" he sought. Images of a young Kolbein panting, his hands groping up her shift and upon her budding breasts flashed vividly in her mind. They had shared the same bed for years as children, and as they had matured, her older cousin had fondled her with his hands and pressed against her with his adolescent body. This had excited her, and she had not resisted his attentions, though she had known it was a sin. 
	Many times he had sought his release with her, only the presence of her father and mother in the next bed stopping him from taking her as a man does a woman. She would never forget the warm stickiness of his seed dripping across her back and buttocks. No one had ever said anything, but when Vigdis began having monthly cycles, Kolbein moved into the mercantile.
	Apparently taking her silence as acquiescence, Kolbein drew her around in front of him, and holding her hips with both hands, pressed his face into her soft belly. Vigdis stood still, not moving as his hands slid around to cup her buttocks through her gown and then press up between her legs. She automatically parted them for him and sighed. A hard, cold knot formed in her belly as she weighed letting yet another man use her. While Kolbein's caresses became more eager, her thoughts turned to the revenge she would wreak upon him for this affront.

ANNA CAME TO Tora's chamber to help her undress. She went about her work silently. Tora regarded her friend closely. Something was wrong. Anna usually chattered about something or other.
	"What is it that ails you, Anna?" Tora asked. She had to repeat the question as Anna's thoughts seemed miles away. Anna hesitated before answering.
	"I saw the way the countess looked at you during our evening repast," she said. "Hildur told me that she is newly widowed."
	"I know," said Tora. Nikolas's refusal to tell her much about Vigdis while they were yet at Ringebu had disturbed Tora, and the meeting of one of Magnus' former amours had done nothing to allay her concerns. "But surely that isn't what plagues you so?"
	"Hildur also said that she is a malicious, conniving creature who searches for a new, wealthy protector."
	"Yes. I know that, too."
	"I just want to warn you to be careful, Tora," Anna said coming close to her and grabbing her hand. "It looked to me that she has set her sights on his lordship."
	Tora's stomach did a flip-flop as Anna voiced the nagging suspicion she had tried to push away all evening. She had felt quite possessive of Magnus as Vigdis touched him so familiarly. Surely, she couldn't be jealous?
	"Please be careful, Tora. Do not underestimate her."
	"Don't be foolish, Anna. What harm can she do me?" Tora chided. She paused, staring intently at Anna's solemn face. "I cannot believe that this is all that is bothering you. You look as unhappy as the time you lost that dear little horse your father carved for you when we were children."
	Tora's observation was apparently too close to the truth for Anna, for tears spilled onto her cheeks as she pulled Tora's dress over her head and folded it neatly. Tora stood in her shift and waited patiently. Anna sat down and smoothed imaginary wrinkles from the material on her lap.
	"It's Henrik. I have never met anyone so good and kind," she said, the words rushing from her. "He is so handsome and strong. When he holds me in his arms, I feel so warm and alive. Tora, I think I love him!"
	Tora heard a wistful tone in her voice. Now she understood Anna's sorrow. She was already promised to Per at Loren. Her own father had shaken hands with Anna's parents and Per, acknowledging the betrothal. A proper dowry and groom's gift had been agreed upon. Anna would marry upon her return to Loren.
	"'Tis not right that you should marry a house-carl nearly twice your age when you love someone else," Tora stated. "If it were up to me, I would release you from your promise just like that," she said, snapping her fingers. "As things now stand, I will have to speak to Magnus about it."
	"Oh no, please do not do anything more to anger him, Tora. I can learn to accept that Henrik can never be mine."
	"Nonsense. I will at least try." Tora gave Anna a hug before Anna left, closing the heavy door behind her. Tora hoped her words had brought Anna comfort. She frowned, wondering how best to approach Magnus on the subject. Would he intervene on Anna's behalf if she asked him to? He dealt fairly with his people— everyone but herself, she thought with a sniff.
	Tora crawled into bed, so pre-occupied with scheming and planning for Anna's sake that Anna's warning about Lady Vigdis completely flew from her mind. 
	Much later, Magnus came heavily to bed, reeking of wine. Tora waited expectantly for him to speak, or to gather her into his arms, but he did neither. Soon she heard his deep rhythmic breathing and knew he was asleep. She moved closer to his warm body and lay awake worrying about his long absence this evening and his sudden lack of interest in her. Thoughts of the countess came back to haunt her.

TORA WOKE UP the next morning feeling lethargic and dull. Dreams of the countess wrapped in Magnus's passionate embrace had kept her tossing and turning until the early morning hours. Her eyelids were unbearably heavy and her blood thudded dully in her ears. She rolled over to reach for Magnus, but his spot lay empty and cold. She squinted at the light in the window. The hour was late, as in December the sun did not rise until long after matins.
	Tora dressed again in the yellow woolen gown. She was glad she had packed her warmest hose to cover her legs. Her undergarments and the gown kept her fairly warm, but the cold from the stone floor chilled her feet and lower legs. What a nuisance slippers are! she thought. She longed for the quilted felt boots she wore at home in the winter.
	Tora made her way to the kitchen. The commotion and activity there surprised her, even considering the number of people they had to feed. She squeezed between two young boys plucking chickens and skirted around boiling pots and women carving up slabs of meat. Against one wall, loaves of bread were stacked high. Her stomach growled as the scent of roasting meat reached her nostrils.
	A woman came scurrying up to her, alarmed. 
	"Oh, my lady! This is no place for you to be. You will ruin your gown. One of these foolish girls will surely soil it!"
	"Please, Cook, I would like to stay a bit. I miss the company of women and their work."  
	Tora bit back a smile at the look of astonishment on the cook's face. She must not be used to ladies saying "please" to her, nor appreciating the servants' labors. The cook smiled sheepishly then, her warm brown eyes sympathetically, but frankly, assessing her tired state.
	"My name is Inger. Come, my lady. Let's get you a bite to eat. You look a bit peaked this morning."
	Inger brought Tora a cup of hot broth and a chunk of bread. Tora seated herself on a bench, out of harm's way. Tearing off small bites of bread, she dipped them into the broth to soften them before putting them in her mouth. The broth tasted fresh and the flavors of bay leaf, pepper and salt made her stomach rumble again as she chewed. Tora felt better then, and the boisterous activity around her boosted her spirits.
	A younger woman came shortly thereafter, and curtseying to Tora, introduced herself as Hildur and asked if she might take the now empty cup for her. Tora nodded and said, "Such a lot of activity! Surely it is not like this every day?"
	"No, my lady, but there is Christmas to celebrate, and half the soldiers of the land are convening here in Bergen all demanding their bellies be filled." Hildur dropped her voice to a whisper. "I heard the lot is costing the king so much that he has had to break into his coffers to keep the nobles and army happy. 
	"Our good queen puts on a brave face, but inside she must feel this is a burial feast, rather than a celebration. I heard that the king cannot let Skule live after this latest act of treason. To think that he must kill his own father-in-law!" 
	Tora knew Hildur spoke the truth. Magnus had told her the same. Skule had plotted and stirred up rebellious fractions all these years, and the king had placated him every step of the way. Now Haakon would brook no more.

(bm) Chapter 17

TORA SPENT the idle hours of each day with the queen and her ladies-in-waiting. She listened to their chatter or debated with the healer Simon in his infirmary about the attributes of various herbals and remedies. Sometimes she and Anna explored the town of Bergen itself, always escorted, exploring the narrow lanes and shops along the way. 
	Magnus never carried out his threat of continuing her tormenting lessons in the privacy of their bedroom. Indeed, though she saw him every day at meals, he seldom had much time for her. Even at night, he was often absent from her bed, constantly attending the king, or so she was told. The times he slept by her side, he was careful not to touch her, sleeping with his broad back to her. As time slipped by, she relaxed and enjoyed the moments she had in his company.
	On Sunday mornings, they attended mass together in the Church of St. Mary. She sat with the other noblewomen in the nave of the church, opposite the men. Occasionally, she glanced back to view the many who stood through the whole service and to gaze about at the greatness of the church. Although smaller and narrower than the great church she'd visited in Hamar, the vaulted ribbed ceiling gave the impression of reaching virtually to heaven.
	The service continued, long and drawn out. Tora's attention drifted from the bishop's sermon on eternal fire and damnation, and her gaze wandered to the group of noblemen across from her. Magnus was easy to spot; he stood taller than most. She admired his strong good looks. Arrayed in the same rich attire he had worn on their wedding day, he shone like a black pearl among pale ones. 
	Tora smiled. Since their arrival in Bergen, their relationship had eased and become less fractious, as if the long miles from Ringebu had blurred their bitterness and the need to seek revenge. The time they spent together filled with budding friendship and mutual respect. 
	True changes in Magnus's attitude toward her became very apparent, not the least when she had approached him about Anna and Henrik. They stood at the battlement in companionable silence, looking out toward the sea and the numerous islands that dotted the coastline.
	"Have you noticed, my lord, how much time Anna and Henrik spend in each others' company?" she asked, glancing up at him.
	Magnus shook his head. Tora could feel his curious gaze on her averted face. Her hands nervously plucked at the front of her cloak, and she gripped them together to force them to be still. 
	"Do you think it right that young people should be forced to wed whoever their parents choose for them?"
	"'Tis an important thing, the alliances that are made by marriage. 'Tis not a thing best left to youth burning with lust," Magnus answered. 
	Tora rounded on him. "But what about us? What kind of forethought did you give to our alliance? I am not of noble birth, yet you would beget an heir from me!" 
	Tora forced herself to meet his eyes. This was not going at all as she had planned. To her amazement, Magnus did not scoff at her outburst, but regarded her seriously. He cupped her chin with one large hand and held her gaze with his own.
	"'Twas your fire and spirit that drew me to you." A smile played at the corner of his mouth. "'Twill be a strong, bold son you give me."
	Tora blushed and turned away, her heart suddenly pounding. How was it that just his words could start her heart racing? She bit her lip and forced her thoughts back to the matter at hand. Taking a deep breath, she pressed on in a rush, "Anna is to wed Per of Loren, and he is old! And she is in love with Henrik." 
	Magnus sighed and turned her toward him. "All right, my soft-hearted one. What is it you are trying to say?"
	"I would ask that you intercede on behalf of Anna and Henrik, make null and void her betrothal to Per and let them marry." There. She had said it. Would he do as she asked? Her disappointment was like a giant boulder heaved upon her when he shook his head.
	"I will think on it once we have returned to Ringebu," he offered. "But not before. There are more important matters to take care of first." 
	Still, he had not said no. His words reminded her of a question she had meant to ask.
	"This talk of war and the slaying of Skule. If it is so important, why are we yet in Bergen after so long? Should we not be taking action?" 
	Magnus threw back his head and laughed. He gave Tora a quick hug. "We? Well, my bold warrioress, Haakon has sent messengers north with letters to Skule. He is awaiting an answer, hoping that there has been a misunderstanding, that the two can yet talk things out." Magnus sobered. "The days for talking are running out. Haakon knows this. Yet will he wait until all other peaceful avenues have been tried."
	Tora snapped out of her reverie when the congregation's chant resonated through the church. Whispering her response by rote, she could no more keep her thoughts on the bishop now than she could earlier, and she once again looked about her. 
	Those who stood in the back gradually broken into small groups and whispered amongst themselves. Tora frowned as she reflected on their lack of good manners, but then chastised herself for judging them. After all, I'm not paying any more attention to the bishop than they are. This thought caught her up short, her years of conditioning in her religious faith making her feel guilty. I'd best make my confession soon and ask the Lord's forgiveness.
	As the service ended, Tora again sought out Magnus. As if sensing her gaze upon him, he turned and smiled, then left his party of men and came to her.
	"Are you such a child yet that you cannot sit still in church, Tora?" Magnus chided. The twinkle in his eyes and a soft chuck under her chin took the bite out of his words, but Tora squirmed uncomfortably none the less.
	"This church is incredible," she defended herself. She would certainly not tell him she had been thinking of him. "But you are right, my lord. My behavior was shameful, and reminds me that I have not received absolution since we married. I feel the need to make my confession to a priest," she finished. "Can you help me arrange it?" 
	Magnus's lips twitched in amusement. "Yes, wife. You have a great many sins you should seek absolution for. Such a wicked woman have I never known before," he teased. 
	"La, sir, you mock me," Tora chastised him, flouncing away. "I dare say a priest would make a saint of me, for having to put up with the likes of you," she threw over her shoulder. 
	She had gotten no further than the door when Magnus caught her arm.
	"I dare say he would," Magnus agreed. He took her elbow and steered her away from the door. "If you mean to see a priest, my chaste one, then I will arrange it for you with pleasure." 
	Magnus lead her through the nave and out a side door, sweeping her up into his arms, despite her vigorous protests, to keep her slippers from getting soaked from the chilly wet ground. After a moment's hesitation, she shrugged and wrapped her arms about his neck. 
	Her heart raced as his arms holding her against his chest brought heated memories soaring. Her fingers threaded through the silky hairs at the nape of his neck. Her eyes followed his rugged jawline and stopped at his lips. If he turned his head to her now, they might.... 
	Magnus set her down again, his hands lingering on her waist. He nodded his head. "Go within, Tora, and ask for Father Paal. He'll hear your confession."

A HALF-HOUR later, Tora left her confessor and trudged out into the weak December sunlight. She absently watched her feet, taking little notice as they became wet and cold. She had thought her own parish priest, Father Odde, was severe, but he was like a lamb compared to Father Paal. The priest's harsh words of chastisement rang in her ears, deafening her to the world around her.
	God cannot stand a woman's hubris. You should be ashamed! Your sin is great against God and your lord and master. God will not grant you a child until you have fallen to your knees and humbled yourself to your husband. As your pride and haughtiness grow, your fertile womb will likewise shrivel and lie barren. Be warned, woman! Mend your ways before your soul is also lost.
	"Tora!" 
	She looked up, startled. She had the vague impression that this wasn't the first time her name had been called. Magnus's inquiring eyes met hers and she looked away. She had not expected him to wait for her and fought to compose herself. She could not face him so soon after her confession.
	Tora focused on his left ear. "Have you waited for me this whole time, Magnus?"	
	"Yes."
	"'Twas kind of you to wait," she murmured. Magnus stood and stared down at her and Tora shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "Um. Can we go now?"
	"I should very much like to know what that priest said to you." Magnus said. 
	He swung her abruptly up into his arms. Tora pressed her face into his shoulder, avoiding his inquisitive stare. He placed her on her mount and they rode silently back to Sverresborg. She avoided the curious glances he cast her way and when they reached the courtyard of the castle, she slid unaided from her horse, gathered her skirts and escaped to her chamber.
	"Dear Lord, what am I to do?" Tora paced her room and wrung her hands. If what the priest said was true, she had no possibility of saving Loren and her father. Panic welled up in her as she recalled the summer and fall months she had spent with Magnus. He had bedded her often and yet she had not conceived. What the priest said must be true! She had failed her father and herself. Yet, maybe not all was lost.
	"I will do it. I will humble myself as a good wife should, meet his every need and quell my own wish to thwart him—even if it kills me!" 
	Deep in her heart, she knew it would take no effort at all. 

TORA HAD NEVER felt more foolish and clumsy in her life. The ladies of the court made flirting seem easy, swaying their hips provocatively, tilting their heads just so and smiling such secret, promising smiles. Tora felt incredibly gauche. She wiped her sweaty palms against her borrowed crimson gown and drew a shaky breath. She cast a hasty glance to her right. Magnus sat in discussion with one of the king's advisors, not paying her any heed. 
	What was she doing wrong? She had batted her eyelashes at him, licked her lips in what she deemed was a seductive manner, and chose for him the most tender tidbits from the trencher they shared. And he wasn't even responding! With her chin quivering and blinking back tears of frustration, she decided to try to gain her husband's attention once more. 
	Choosing a particularly tender bite of meat, she whispered his name and watched Magnus, as if in slow motion, turn his head to her, his sensuous lips smiling, his light-blue eyes questioning as they met hers. She forced herself to smile.
	"If the meal pleases you, my lord, might I recommend partaking of a sweet in my chamber?" Tora whispered, huskily. She could scarcely breathe as she waited for his reaction.
	Magnus's eyes widened in amazement, and Tora wished she could sink into the floor. Shaking his head as if to clear it, he opened his mouth to answer when a steward abruptly stuck his head between them.
	"Pardon, my lord, but His Majesty requests your presence in his chambers, immediately."

TORA BLEW into her chamber and slammed the door.
	"By the saints, Tora, have we been set upon?"
	She jumped at Anna's voice. She forced her fists to unclench and drew a deep breath. "No, Anna, 'tis but...'tis nothing," she ended lamely.
	"So 'tis as I thought. You have forgotten your old friend in this new life of yours. Not good enough for you, am I m'lady," Anna snapped, dropping a curtsey to Tora.
	"No, 'tis not that, my friend," Tora exclaimed, taking Anna's hands in hers and pulling her to her feet. 
	"Then what is it, pray tell?" 
	Tora sighed. How was she to share with Anna how complicated her life had become—her whirling emotions for Magnus, her inner conflicts with what others preached to her was the right thing to do, her torn loyalties to her father, her husband and to herself?
	She shuffled to the fire burning brightly in the grate and looked into its fiery depths. She might as well just come out with it. 
	"I tried to flirt with Magnus this evening, with disastrous results."
	"But why on this earth would you do such a thing?"
	Tora grimaced. "I wanted to flirt with him as I have seen the other great ladies do," she said. She could not share even with her best friend that she must seduce her own husband back into her bed. "Have you not seen how they smile and wink at him? I made the greatest fool out of myself tonight, right in front of him and the rest of the court!"
	"Nonsense! He's your husband. And you are the sweetest, most chaste woman among them all. Be yourself, Tora. No man could ask for more." Anna hugged her tightly and then helped her out of her gown. 
	Once in her everyday shift, Tora dismissed Anna, saying she was ready to retire for the night. Instead, she paced the room, berating herself with gusto.
	"If the meal pleases you, my lord, might I recommend partaking of a sweet in my chamber?" Tora mimicked the sentence with great derisiveness. "Oh, what a great fool I am," she groaned, slapping her forehead. Her eye caught sight of the nightgown she had found in a chest in their room. She picked up the gossamer-thin gown and held it against her. She slid her hand within the material and blushed as she noted how clearly she could see her flesh.
	"I can't do this," she said out loud, surprised by her own vehemence. "I can't dress or act like the others. He'll just have to accept me as I am." 
	Throwing down the transparent gown, Tora climbed into bed. She was determined to wait up for Magnus to tell him of her decision, but a deep weariness crept over her, pressing her deeply into the furs of the bed. Exhaustion from the strain of the day finally overcame her worries and she slept.
	In the depths of the night, she dreamed that a butterfly fluttered about her face, landing lightly on her cheeks and closed eyes.
	"Tora," the butterfly called to her. 
	That's odd, she mused, even if a butterfly could talk, it certainly wouldn't be in a deep masculine voice. Then, more fully awake, she realized it wasn't a butterfly at all, but Magnus, planting soft kisses upon her brow, her jawline, her cheeks, gently kissing away the tears that had dried there. 
	She looked deeply into his eyes, endeavoring to read his thoughts. In the dim light of the dying fire, his eyes glowed with desire. Tora decided nothing she could say or do now could be worse than her feeble attempts at flirting. Gathering her courage, she opened her thoughts to Magnus.
	"I wanted to invite you back to my bed, but I didn't know how, and everything went wrong!" she muttered. 
	Magnus smiled, his strong teeth flashing whitely in the gloom, before his mouth found hers, firm, warm and gentle. 
	"I was such a fool!" she whispered against his lips.
	"No, darling, you were charming, irresistible. You but took me by surprise. Me thinks I'd bridled my passion for you so much that I did not recognize your flirting at once. 'Tis my fault, not yours. I tell you, I sorely tested the patience of His Majesty tonight," he chuckled. "I could not take my mind off you, and he would discuss state business!" 
	Tora mustered a smile, and Magnus gathered her into his arms. He made no move to mount her. There seemed to be no hurry. Was he waiting for her to begin? She drew her hand tentatively over his chest. A kiss might be the place to start.
	Magnus caught her hand in his and kept it against his heart. A deep rumble vibrated beneath her ear and she peered up into his face.
	"What's so funny?"
	He shrugged beneath her, his free hand coming up to smooth her hair. "I remember the first time I paired with a woman. I was fifteen, and hard from morning to night. My most innocent thoughts sent my cock to throbbing and aching beneath my tunic. Oh, when that maid bent over to pick up her buckets there in the barn, I thought I might burst. There was that wide bottom swaying before me—I just had to have her."
	Tora only half-listened to Magnus. Her attention was held by the rise and fall of his warm chest against her cheek and breast, the feel of his crisp hairs beneath her hand and his quiet voice rumbling in her ear.
	"I don't think she minded, not really—but I knew I was doing wrong. I lost my head. When I look back on it, it was awful. Clumsy and inconsiderate—I threw her into the hay on her stomach, tossed up her skirts and rutted her. 
	"But oh, I was in heaven. My blood roared as it raced from my head to my cock. I thought I would die from the pleasure of it all. And it built so quickly and ended so abruptly—with a crack of leather across my bared buttocks."
	That caught Tora's attention. "What happened?"
	"My father. Can you imagine the agony, the humiliation of spilling your seed for the first time as a man as you're beaten like a naughty boy?"
	"No. But you were a naughty boy, a young lord taking advantage of one of his father's maids."
	Magnus's breath blew warm across her forehead as he sighed. "The point is, minx, that all this rutting and seduction and whatnot is blasted complicated. And I don't want you to feel bad about any awkwardness you might feel. 'Tis only natural. I just wish..."
	At his silence, Tora moved her hand to cup his jaw. His whiskers scraped against her skin. "What do you wish?"
	"I wish you to make love to me—exactly how you desire."
	His words sent her heart pounding. "You will let me do as I please?"
	"I am asking you to do as you please." 
	A rush of warmth flowed to her womb as her imagination took over. Tora sat up; her legs tucked beneath her and drew her shift over her head. "You may not touch me," she commanded, her voice husky. She caught her bottom lip in her teeth at the sight of his arousal. "Roll on your stomach. Grab the sides of the bed and keep you hands there. You must do as I say."
	"A hard taskmaster you make," Magnus grumbled, doing as she bid.
	Magnus's powerful naked body lay spread out before her, his buttocks occasionally clenching in anticipation of her touch. Tora stood up and straddled him. She raked her hands through her tresses till the ends brushed with an exquisite caress against her belly and buttocks. Her insides quivered and her abdomen grew taught as her intimate lips swelled and tingled above her helpless lord.
	Not knowing exactly what she was doing, but with a need to show him that while she gave herself willingly to him he could not dominate her, she planted her feet firmly onto the solid flesh of his back and stood upon him. 
	"Tora, what are you doing?" he grunted.
	"Hush. You may not speak!" Precariously balanced, she placed one foot on his shoulder and pushed, then switched and did the same with the other. She walked all over him, but soon grew tired of that game. The delicious pricking between her thighs was gone, and she wanted it back.
	Tora went down on her knees, now straddling Magnus's waist. She leaned forward, letting her locks caress him. She smiled when he shivered. She continued to bend forward, her breasts brushing his back. Rubbing them back and forth on purpose, she purred as their tips grew hard and pleasure shot to her womb. Her pelvis tilted and she slid against Magnus's rigid rear end.
	"Jesus have mercy," he groaned, his knuckles white against the wood of the bedsides.
	Tora laughed in his ear. "Hush." 
	He continued to emit guttural sounds as her tongue and lips licked and bit and kissed her salty way from his corded neck to his sensitive waist to the inside of his solid thigh and all the way down to his toes.
	"By Thor, Tora, have mercy!"
	Tora smiled. It wouldn't be fair to neglect such a broad expanse of man, she decided, and worked her way quickly up his other side, impatient to get on with her game. 
	Rock hard buttocks clenched again beneath her and she rubbed herself against them, exciting her further. On the other side awaited a thick rod that would fill her pulsing center. She grew eager to have it within her. 
	She moved down to Magnus's thighs and said, "I'm going to let you touch me now, but only as I say. Maybe gently, maybe roughly. I will tell you when and where. Do you understand?"
	Another muffled groan followed by a strangled "Yes!"
	"Turn over."
	And there it rose before her, the bludgeon that had brought her so much despair in the past, and the warm smooth tower that would now bring her so much pleasure. She was so ready for it. She kissed the tip before she moved up and lifted herself. Her heart pounded in anticipation, and her hands shook as she planted them on Magnus's chest.
	"Play with my breasts."
	Magnus brought his hands up in a hurry at Tora's command. They tingled as much as the rest of him to caress the hot wild woman straddling him. He palmed her breasts, feeling their weight in his hands. He brushed his thumbs against her nipples and heard Tora gasp.
	She hovered over his cock, her swollen womanhood teasing. Christ's blood she was slick as a stone in a pool. 
	"Tora, please," he bit out. 
	She looked down at him, her hair falling about her face and his, tickling. "Pinch my nipples."
	Magnus sucked in a breath. If she kept this up much longer, he would lose control. He had to have her, be inside her and pump his need into her ready body.
	She took him slowly into herself. His legs shook as he restrained himself from jerking upward. 
	"Take my bottom in your hands. Touch me."
	Since she didn't tell him how he should touch her, he spread his hands across her wide smooth cheeks and squeezed the plump soft flesh there. Then he allowed his lucky fingers to dip into her crevice and slide down till they met the very tip of his cock within her. With gentle fingers he spread her lips so she could better take him in her. He caught her around her waist when she jumped in surprise then moved his hands back to her bottom, afraid she would stop if he disobeyed her and touched her where he hadn't been given permission. 
	Lower and lower, deeper and deeper she swallowed him. To squeeze so slowly into her was exquisite agony. Magnus broke out it a sweat. 
	Then, her patience seemingly gone, Tora thrust her pelvis down, taking all of him that she could into her swollen sweetness. "Oh," she gasped. "Touch me, Magnus. Touch me wherever you like."
	Her words reached him from far away as her sudden possession of him rocked him. Taking her words as permission to do as he would, Magnus rolled them over. He caught her mouth with his, thrusting his tongue hungrily into her moist sweet mouth, mimicking the thrusts of his cock in her swollen hot inner muscles. By Thor, she was magnificent! 
	He dragged his lips down her throat to her breasts and suckled first one then the other. Tora made small mewling noises, her hands clutched in his hair, held him in place. She bucked against him as if she couldn't get enough of him.
	Magnus rolled them again, up into a sitting position. He braced his back against the wall and held Tora in his lap, his left arm around her waist, holding her in place.
	"Spread your legs for me, sweet...yes, more." 
	Tora's legs were folded beneath her, her thighs spread wide across his lap at his insistence. He couldn't move very much within her, but forced himself to be content with the feel of her around him as he bent to his work. His arm moved up her back pushing her closer to him so that his mouth could tease and suckle her taut rosy nipples again. Tora threw her head back, giving him full access to her. His free hand moved down between her legs, searching carefully for her center of pleasure.
	Muscles clenching tightly about his throbbing cock and a cut-off moan from Tora told him he'd found what he sought. He went deeper, filling his fingers with her honey and coming back up to flick and tease her. Had he ever known a woman so passionate?
	Soon Tora's gasps came hot and heavy against his ear, her fingers digging painfully into his shoulders. He didn't care. She rode him in a fury of heat, and he grabbed her hips to slow her down, not letting her force him over the edge. Her cries rang out, near sobs as she pulsed around him, having found her release. 
	Magnus cupped her and fondled her a little more till her shudders left her, then bent over, taking her with him, until she lay beneath him. He smiled as her smoky blue eyes regarded him like a cat who'd licked cream. He buried himself deeply within her and reveled as she wrapped her silken thighs about him. He rode her hard then, she matching his thrusts with a burst of energy. His powerful climax left him dizzy, his heart pounding and his breath harsh in his ears. With a satisfied sigh, he slid down on her and then rolled to the side, keeping her tight against him.
	For a while they lay there, catching their breath, not saying a word.
	"I'm glad that you would do me the honor of seducing me," Magnus whispered into her ear. 
	Tora captured his mouth with her own, on the verge of tears after all the tumultuous emotions encountered during their passion. If he said one more nice thing, she might shatter into a million pieces. Magnus drew her even closer.	
	Sated and quiet, they lay entwined in each other's arms. As their breathing calmed and their pulses slowed, the last flames of the fire went out, leaving them enveloped in a cocoon of contentment neither had ever experienced before.

(bm) Chapter 18

"WHERE IS THE cursed thing!" Tora had searched everywhere for her bag of herbs. She was sure she had placed it in her chest but couldn't find it anywhere. She sat down in a huff, surrounded by the contents of her chest. She had just decided to repack when Magnus walked in.
	"And I thought we were in for a spell of good weather—but apparently a storm has hit here," he teased, his eyes taking in the items strewn about the floor. 
	Her irritation melted away beneath the warmth of his smile. She smiled back, feeling languid and serene. No words were needed between them as the memories of the previous night flowed between them. 
	With whispers and caresses they had shared an intimacy never known to them before, and the wall of resentment that had kept them at odds crumbled rapidly until demolished.
	She had awakened in his arms this morning, held closely against him with the heavy beat of his heart beneath her ear. They had made love again before Magnus forced himself to leave her bed.
	"What are you doing, darling?" Magnus asked, returning her mellow thoughts to the present.
	"I thought I might bathe."
	"What? You will certainly do no such thing. I want you to think only of me today, and what better way than to have my scent upon you?"
	"Magnus!" Tora cried, shocked by his perversity, even as she grew warm in response to his possessive words. He grinned at her, but she was sure he had meant every word. He glanced about him.
	"What's this?" Magnus picked his way through the litter of clothing and bent to pick up her bow and arrows. Tora groaned. He would surely take them.
	She reached to take them from him. "Those are mine."
	Magnus drew his arm away. "Yours?" He smiled crookedly. "Since when do women use bows and arrows?" 
	Tora stood up to take them from him, but he held them up out of her reach. "They are mine; give them back to me."
	"First you will tell me why you have such weapons." 
	She hesitated. "My father gave them to me. He made them himself for me when I was ten."
	"Why would a father give his daughter such weapons?" he asked, examining the blue, white and black feathers at the ends of each arrow.
	"Because he had no son," she said, "and so he taught me everything he would have taught him."
	"Indeed."
	"You don't believe me!"
	"I did not say that."
	"I can see it in your face! I'll have you know that I was a very good shot and hunted well with my bow."
	"And now?"
	Tora squirmed under his intent look. "Well, it has been a long time since I have used them. It displeased everyone so that I put them away. 'Unbecoming' they said."
	"'Tis not like you to give in so easily. Why did you?"
	"Is it not?" she countered. "I would do anything for my father, you must know that by now. He bore the brunt of the ridicule for his peculiar manner of rearing me, and, finally, I could not bear to see it continue."
	"Of course. Forgive me. My words were unfair," Magnus said. "Come, and bring your bow. I would see you shoot."
	She gaped at him then shut her mouth abruptly when she realized how stupidly she stared at him. He smiled at her, and she felt she might melt into a puddle of joy as his eyes twinkled so warmly at her. 
	"I...I should clean up here first." She gestured at the mess she had made.
	"That's for maids to do. Come. We'll bring back venison for the kitchen."
	"But I must change, at least. I can hardly hunt dragging these skirts about the forest." 
	Magnus nodded his agreement.
	Tora hesitated, but saw that he didn't mean to leave. She turned her back to him and after stripping her clothes, pulled on woolen hose, a thick linen shirt and a boy's woolen tunic.
	She was pulling on her boots when she glanced up at Magnus. She stopped in mid-motion and sharply drew in her breath. He stood there, leaning against the wall, his face intent, and his eyes eating her up as if she were a succulent morsel placed before him. 
	"Let's make a wager, Tora. If you kill any game today, then I will grant you any wish—within reason. If you do not, then you must grant me one." 
	Her pulse quickened as ideas of what his wish might entail flashed through her mind. She blushed and nodded, a smile of anticipation upon her lips. 
	"Then I suggest you begin practicing 'yes, my lady; no, my lady' right now," she quipped, breezing by him and out of the room. 
	Magnus snorted, but smiled broadly. The glow in his eyes tempted her to lose the wager, just so that she might fulfill the wish that lurked there in their blue depths.

TORA HELD HER breath, partly because Magnus was so close to her she could feel his warmth and partly because in the gully below them stood four does. They were winter lean and their meat would be tough, but any fresh meat at this time of year would be welcome. 
	She and Magnus lay flat on their bellies, their cloaks wrapped tightly about them. Their homespun garments blended with the bleak surroundings and hid them from their prey.
	"I must move down and around them. We're upwind." In her excitement to be hunting again, Tora forgot her role as follower to Magnus's lead. She began her retreat, keeping low to the ground. She moved effortlessly among the rock outcroppings and scrub bushes that dotted the hillside. Her heart thrilled to the challenge of the hunt and every fiber of her being was bent on making this one a success. 
	Twenty minutes later, she was again within view of the small herd. She stopped and waited for her breathing to even. She must get within range of the does without alerting them of her presence.
	Magnus remained where he was and mulled over Tora's actions. He shook his head and smiled to himself. He had never imagined finding a woman he considered his match, but Tora filled the role quite naturally. Yes, she was aggravating and irritating and drove him mad at times, but he admired her inner strength and fire, her adventurous spirit. She filled his thoughts, and he looked forward to spending time with her each day—and each passionate night to come. She was as soothing as a cool fresh breeze or clear water brook that washed away the weariness of his days. Against all odds, against all his wishes to the contrary, she had brought happiness back into his lonely life.
	Inexorably, Tora was finding her way into his heart. For the first time, he wondered how he would feel when their two years of forced marriage ended and she left him. 
	A slight movement at the bottom of the gully alerted him to her presence. The does hadn't seen her, as low as they were. He held his breath as she drew her bow and set an arrow in place. Fascinated by her natural grace, he dared not blink as she stalked the gentle animals, creeping and moving as silently and smoothly as the deer themselves. Before he knew it, a doe fell to the ground and the others sprang away, fleeing up the gully to safety. 
	Magnus exhaled noisily. He sprang to his feet and scrambled down the hillside to Tora. She had shot the animal directly behind its shoulder, the arrow sunk deep into its chest.
	"There goes my wish," he said regretfully. "That was well done." 
	Tora beamed up at him. "I might grant you your wish, anyway."
	Magnus's loins stirred as his gaze moved from her full lips smiling so sweetly up at him to her shining eyes. The blatant yearning and invitation that danced there undid him. 
	He took the bow from her and dropped it to the ground, then wrapped his arms about her slender waist. Lowering his head, he kissed her, tasting her sweetness. He nuzzled her throat and behind her ear, smelling the earthiness and freshness that cloaked her.
	"'Tis cold here, Magnus," Tora murmured.
	"Never mind. I'll warm you." He lifted her and lowered her to the ground. In truth, the wind did not reach them here and after spreading Tora's cloak upon the ground, he covered them both with his ample one.
	Magnus was eager, an intense heat growing within his loins. His blood pounded thickly in his ears as he caressed Tora beneath her clothes. Her skin was warm and soft as silk as he ran his hands up her sleek belly to cup her full breasts. He kissed her deeply, exploring her mouth with an ever-growing fervor. He groaned when he met her eager response and held her against him. Tora moaned into his mouth and wrapped her arms tightly about his neck. 
	With a growing sense of urgency, Magnus reached for her hose and drew them off. She shivered in his arms, and he ran his hands along her soft thighs, smoothing away goose bumps. He needed to possess her, here and now, to ride her till she cried out his name. Unable to control his passion, he loosened his clothing, rolled Tora over and pulled her up to her knees.
	"Wh-what...?" she began.
	"Hush, 'tis all right," he whispered into her ear, covering her from behind. Grabbing hold of her hips, he plunged himself deeply into her, groaning as her moist tightness wrapped about him. By Thor, how he needed her, and in his possession of her he felt the bonds she had linked about his heart weld even stronger. 
	She sent him heavenwards till the world exploded in a thousand lights and sent him spiraling back to earth, back to her welcoming embrace. He pulled her close facing him, his cloak wrapped tightly about them, and rested his chin upon the top of her head. 
	"I have not taken you so before, Tora. I did not scare you, did I?" He stared anxiously down into her pensive face.
	"No," she answered, her eyes on his tunic where her hand plucked at the cloth. "'Twas very powerful, and seemed fitting, somehow, out here among the very elements." A shy smile touched her lips and she briefly met his gaze before looking away again. "I felt very much like Mother Earth, open and fertile to you."
	Magnus kissed her again, pleased with her answer, and helped her to dress. 
	"'Tis not the season to cuddle in the hay." He smiled at her. "But I look forward to warmer climes." 
	Magnus watched Tora blush and go about the business of straightening her clothing and wrapping her cloak around her. He took her brooch from her trembling hands and fastened it at her throat for her. He grasped her hands and placed them within his own, chafing them to warm them. 
	"I'd best get you back to the castle."
	"That is a warmer clime—of sorts." 
	Magnus swallowed hard. Tora's subtle meaning startled him and set his loins stirring again. He never dressed a deer so fast as he did that day.

ONCE AGAIN dressed as a lady, Tora made her way with Magnus through the Great Hall to take their seats for supper. They curtsied and bowed to King Haakon and Queen Margrete.
	The king said, "I am told that we may thank thee, Lady Tora, for part of our repast this evening." Looking up at Magnus, he continued, "Your lady is full of surprises, Magnus. She will keep you busy in the years to come." 
	Tora flushed and curtsied, hiding the ache that suddenly welled up in her heart. There would be no years to come, she knew, and the joy of the day faded. 
	Seated beside Magnus, she allowed her thoughts drift back to earlier that day, recapturing part of the pleasure that had colored the past hours. Their lovemaking had been primitive and rough, yet she had found it very exciting.
	"As the stallion takes a mare," she breathed, remembering that first night when Magnus had taken her virginity. So long ago that seemed. Never would she have imagined the happiness she now experienced with Magnus as her husband. Only the thought of becoming pregnant or running out of time with him clouded her joy. 
	How ironic, she reflected. Not so very long ago that she had cursed each time her monthly flow came. And now she was relieved when it did—extending her time with him—and secretly dreading the time when it would not. The sooner she bore him a babe, the sooner he would send her away.
	Later that night, she sought out Magnus in the darkness, and with great longing and sadness, made love to him. She was glad for the darkness, as hot tears ran down the sides of her face. How would she bear it when the time came to leave, and he was no longer by her side?

(bm) Chapter 19

ONE AFTERNOON in January, Tora was summoned to the queen's chambers. The royal chambers were large, their walls hung with great tapestries, and the light from many torches kept the darkness of a room with few windows at bay. Margrete sat in her drawing room, close to the fire. She had removed the royal robe she had worn earlier and now sat in a loose-fitting gown of wool with a silk blouse beneath. 
	Her two year old son Magnus sat upon her lap fussing and cranky. Margrete was fond of her second son, but now she looked about for his nursemaid to take him.
	"I'll hold him for you," Tora offered. Margrete smiled gratefully and handed the toddler to her. Tora lowered herself onto the rug on the floor and kept the boy amused with her silver and ruby cross. 
	"You look quite fetching, my dear. I do believe children suit you. Knowing Magnus, 'twill not be long before you have your own child in your lap." 
	Tora bit her lip and, feeling ill at ease with the subject, kept her head down. A sudden pang in her heart had her blinking back tears. There would be no child in her lap; Magnus had made that perfectly clear, right from the start.
	"I would like you to accompany me on my daily constitution around the grounds, Tora," Queen Margrete said, changing the subject. She sent one of her maids to fetch Tora's cloak and boots.
	As they strolled, Queen Margrete regaled her with stories about life at court and the role Magnus had played there. Margrete's genuine affection for Magnus was easily conveyed to Tora. The queen described him as chivalrous, amusing, a man of great integrity and a natural leader among men. Tora was awed by the bravery he had displayed in battles against the Ribbungers, another political group that had sought to overthrow Haakon's reign. He had not been much more than a boy, then.
	"Do you know the Magnus I speak of?" asked the queen.
	Tora gazed out over the ramparts. "'Tis only recently I have met your Magnus. Yes, I have seen his concern for his people and his fondness for children. His people hold him in high regard, 'tis true. But he was often angry, impatient and boorish with me. Each time he saw me, he was reminded that my father killed his son. 
	"In the beginning, I think he wanted to punish me, but now me thinks...his anger is not as great. He has become gentle with me." Her soft-spoken words drifted away on the wind, her thoughts turning inwards. She sighed and looked out over the water.
	"I wonder at your seeming resignation of your circumstances, Tora," the queen said. "Nikolas has told me that you have been openly defiant of his cousin, that you have fought him tooth and nail till he would pull his hair out by its roots in frustration with you." 
	Tora smiled at this image and turned to look frankly into the queen's eyes. "Yes, 'tis true. I was not brought up to be submissive, but to run a large farm and take care of the people there. I did not want to marry Magnus. I knew I would do what I had to do to save my father and make amends, but Magnus was so cold and heartless to me that I had to fight him." 
	Tora looked up at the gray sky. Taking a deep breath, she poured her heart out to the queen, telling her the whole story leading up to her marriage to Magnus, and the last seven months. 
	"He wanted me to obey and respect him, but I could not when he treated me so poorly. He has beaten and imprisoned me. He is a powerful, relentless force and I find that I can no longer resist him."
	"Because you love him," Queen Margrete stated. 
	Her heart skipped a beat. Love Magnus? No, it could not be true, could it? She contemplated her reaction to the countess, how she longed to be with Magnus, to look at him, to hear his voice, to lay in his strong arms and belong to him. But love? She must not love him.
	"I am to bear him a son, and then he shall send me away! No. I must not love him!" Her voice rang out in her vehemence.
	"But you do, do you not?" the queen asserted. "I have seen the way you look at him, the way you smile. Why, you practically glow when he is near." 
	A rush of denial flowed through Tora, but she could not force it passed her lips. 
	"Yes," she whispered, after a time. "Yes, I love him."
	"Then you must tell him so," proclaimed the queen.
	"No, I could never!" Tora brought her head up. "He has already everything else which was mine—my body, my home, my father. He does not want my love, only a son! And when he has that he will rid himself of my presence."
	"Child, do you not see that it is this willful stubbornness of yours which keeps you from knowing true happiness and fulfillment?" the queen demanded, irritation thick in her voice. "You must forgive Magnus his sins against you and learn to trust him."
	Tora returned to her room to find Anna and two other women waiting for her. From the stacks of materials placed on the bed, it was obvious that she was to have new clothes. Tora resigned herself to the fact that for the next hour or so she would be poked and prodded as the seamstresses took measurements and held up various materials to her. She allowed Anna to steer the whole affair. She was not in the frame of mind to take any pleasure in the task.
	Queen Margrete's words had unsettled her, as had the realization that she had fallen in love with Magnus. What was she to do now? The queen said she must tell him, but not so long ago he had stood before her and emphasized that she was with him only to bear him a son. She must not let him know he had come to mean so much to her. 
	What if he laughed at her, or used this knowledge against her? What if she told him, only to have him reconfirm his conviction that he would get rid of her anyway, just as soon as their bargain was fulfilled? Each day, from that moment on, would pass like a dagger plunged into her heart. Tora didn't think she could bear such tormented heartbreak. 
	Better to go on hoping that with time he might fall in love with her and ask her to remain his wife forever. 
	Had he not already shown signs of just that? What about his recent tenderness, his gentle lovemaking? Did he not need to care for her, at least a little, to treat her that way? Wasn't it possible that he would one day learn to love her?

MAGNUS ARRIVED late to supper, Tora already having finished her meal. She had not seen him all day, and was uncertain as to how to receive him. Would her love for him be apparent to him now that she no longer hid it from herself?
	"Forgive my lateness. I have been in council all day, and have spoken with the king—and the queen. You seem to have gained a strong ally in Her Majesty, Tora. What have the two of you spoken about?" 
	Tora stiffened and refused to meet his probing gaze. "Nothing of importance," she murmured. "Just you." 
	Magnus laughed. "Thank you, dear wife, for that most becoming compliment." 
	The twinkle in his eyes faded as he regarded her. "What else have you been about today?"
	"I have been poked and prodded like a pin cushion by seamstresses who, by your orders, shall adorn me in expensive gowns which I have no desire to wear. Now, if you will excuse me, my lord, I would like to retire." To sit so close to him while her thoughts and emotions whirled out of control stabbed her with physical pain.
	"You know how exhausting getting a new trousseau can be," she added flippantly, though her tone was anything but light. She rose from her place on the bench, not waiting for Magnus's permission and left him. 
	Magnus was about to follow Tora when Lady Vigdis sat down in her place. He smoothed his expression, too much the gentleman to leave the countess abruptly. The woman began to annoy him, however, with her blatant flirting. This surprised him. A year ago, he would have found her company amusing and would have engaged in the delicate and exciting drama of flirting with her, perhaps even taking her to his bed. Now he found he could not countenance her coyness and flattery.
	"Lady Vigdis, I am afraid I was on my way out. The hour grows late and I must yet meet with my men." 
	"I'm so sorry, my lord. I had so hoped that we might speak together," she cooed. 
	"I'm afraid that's impossible. Now, if you will excuse me..."
	"No, my lord. I will not. At least not until you have escorted me to my chamber. With so many soldiers about, a young, unwed woman is at risk for unsavory encounters, I am afraid. I would feel much safer with you to protect me," she added in a sultry voice. She let her hand linger on his arm. Her green eyes sparkled up at him, the invitation behind her words burning in them. 
	Magnus chose to ignore her meaning. Rising to his feet, he gave her a hand up off the bench. She would hold onto his hand, but he drew it from hers and took her by the elbow. Not speaking to her, he led her out of the Hall and up toward the wing of bedrooms on the second floor. 
	Vigdis stopped before the door to her chamber. Turning to Magnus, she murmured, "I have never forgotten the kiss that you gave me so long ago, Magnus. I can still feel the touch of your lips upon mine." She glanced up at him, and then lowered her gaze demurely. It would be distasteful to be more obvious with her speech to him. She looked up at him, regarding his expression. She saw no desire in his eyes; indeed, he looked put out. 
	A movement further down the hall caught her attention. Hate coursed through her as she saw Tora step into the hall. Without wasting a moment, Vigdis wrapped her arms about Magnus's neck and pressed her tall, slim body against his. 
	Caught off guard, Magnus allowed her to pull his head down and kiss him. She kissed him for as long as possible, until he placed his hands on her shoulders and put her firmly at arm's length from him. Vigdis glanced triumphantly down the hallway, empty now.
	"Lady Vigdis, I am flattered by your...attentions. I do not deserve such considerations from such a desirable woman as you. I would not hurt you nor humiliate you, but I have no desire to receive them. If you will forgive me, in the future, I would ask you to keep a polite distance from me."
	The countess heard his cavalier words and her heart grew cold. He was refusing her, casting her aside! And all because of that slut, Tora. Absurd. She was much more beautiful and sophisticated than that country innocent! Tora must have bewitched Magnus, indeed, to have him refuse other women's charms. 
	Vigdis watched him with growing bitterness as he took his leave and retreated toward the Great Hall. She had thought she could entice Magnus to her bed, married though he was, but it was clear that that was impossible. She would have to rid herself of his nuisance of a wife, first!

TORA CLOSED THE door with no sound. She leaned against it, afraid her shaking legs might not support her. She had thought to go down and speak to Magnus, to open her heart to him. Surely, the priest and the queen knew best? Maybe it would be better to face the harsh realities of her marriage and not live in a fantasy world. If she loved him, and she did, she must trust him—trust him to listen to her and treat her words and feelings with care. 
	And sometime soon he would be gone. She must not let him go to battle without declaring her love for him. If he were to fall in battle without knowing, she would regret it for the rest of her life. Her spirits had lifted when she had made this decision and she couldn't wait to find him.
	She closed her eyes, and the vivid image from the hallway assaulted her. A moan from the depths of her soul broke from her lips as she envisioned Magnus kissing the countess, the two of them wrapped in a passionate embrace. She ran to her bed and threw herself upon it, hot tears burning her cheeks. She slammed her fist into the bedding. 
	What a fool she had been! How stupid had been her hope that he would one day learn to love her, too! Hollow dreams, that's all they were. Thank goodness she had seen his betrayal before she had confessed her love to him! 

(bm) Chapter 20

KOLBEIN BEGAN to panic. To flirt with Tora and have it noticed by Magnus was difficult. And Vigdis grew impatient.
	"Many times, Magnus is not present or Tora stays with a group of women, or flirts with Nikolas or other men within the court," he had explained to her. 
	"You must try harder, Kolbein! Do I have to do everything for you?" Vigdis had paused, considering the problem. "We must simply become more blatant. You must take some chances. And I shall start rumors."  
	Kolbein had agreed with great reluctance. Vigdis would deny him access to her luscious body if he didn't succeed soon, and he intended to see that sinful pleasure continue. 
	Now he stood on the battlement, a warm cloak pinned at his throat by a silver round-pin with an amber oval in its middle. He knew he looked handsome in a long moss green kirtle with woolen hose and boots and he practiced a winsome smile as Tora roamed the yard. 
	Not far from her, Magnus stood among a group of the king's men, deep in discussion. Kolbein noted Magnus stood taller and broader shouldered than most of the men. He drew a deep breath and sent a prayer heavenward that he would not have to experience the great man's wrath. Then he strolled, plotting his route to intercept the Lady Tora of Ringebu.
	"Good day, Lady Tora. It is most fortunate for me that I find you here."
	"Oh? And why is that?" she asked.
	"I was just thinking, you see, about a gift for a lady friend of mine, but I was at a loss as to what a young beautiful woman, such as yourself, might fancy?" He glanced over to where Magnus stood and noted that the man watched them. Kolbein took Tora's hand in his and raised it to his lips.
	"Can you offer me some advice, perhaps?" Kolbein inquired as he led Tora toward a small copse of pine trees. Behind them, Magnus would not be able to see them, and with the rumors Vigdis would start, Magnus would think the worst.
	"A gift for a young woman. Let me see," she said as the silence grew long between them. "Perhaps a small parcel of herbs and dried flowers to keep her clothes sweet? Or a ring or brooch, perhaps? Loyalty and faithfulness seem to be out of style, at the moment."
	Kolbein beheld the young woman before him. Bitterness trilled blatant in her tone and clouded her lovely eyes. He wondered if there wasn't already trouble brewing between Vigdis's victims and his mood lightened.
	"Pardon me?"
	"Never mind," Tora replied. "I apologize for my foul mood. Please continue."
	"Nothing to apologize for, dear lady. I don't think jewelry will do as a gift, not yet, I fear. This woman is not impressed with trinkets. The sachet is a good idea, though. Would you know who makes them?"
	"Yes. Simon, here at the castle keeps the herbal room. Do you know where that is?" 
	He did, but wanted to have an excuse to see her again, if necessary. "No. But may chance I might ask you to show me the way one day soon?" he asked.
	"Yes. That I could do." 

MAGNUS WATCHED his wife exit the veiling copse with Kolbein. He had tried to remain nonchalant and listen to the discussion going on around him, but he boiled with the realization that Tora flirted with courtiers. His dark gaze hung upon her as she allowed Kolbein to kiss her hand in farewell before she made her way back inside the Hall.
	Magnus broke away from the group of men, determined to intercept Kolbein. Kolbein appeared to know that he would be unable to dodge him with any decorum and stood waiting for him. He sized up Kolbein, taking in every detail of his foppish clothes and jewelry. There was a slyness about him that Magnus did not like. He had the feeling the man played him for a fool, and he did not like the feeling one bit.
	"You have been alone with the Lady Tora," he said without salutation. "See that it does not happen again." 
	"The lady and I were discussing gifts for a woman, that is all. You read far too much into an innocent encounter, Jarl Magnus," Kolbein casually replied. "If you are of the opinion that this encounter was more than it was, then I suggest you speak with the lady about it. I was under no impression that she suffered from my attentions. Quite the contrary, me thinks," he murmured. As if unwilling to push his luck any further, Kolbein turned on his heel to go.
	Magnus caught Kolbein's arm and whirled him around to face him. The fact that this coxcomb, who had never seen a day's battle and probably never would, so casually dismissed his demand incensed him.
	"You continue to entertain the Highland Countess at your peril, you cunning mongrel," he ground out. "Be warned!"

(bm) Chapter 21

TORA AWOKE alone again. Only this time, she wasn't even sure if Magnus had come to bed at all. The last time she had seen him, Vigdis had been draped upon his arm. She had sobbed herself to sleep and had woken feeling restless, angry and depressed. 
	She spent the morning listening to the ladies' excited chatter about the celebration that would be held that night. Tora watched them, feeling sorry for herself. There they sat, wives of important men, secure and probably mostly content with their positions. They knew their futures and would find her predicament impossible to understand. 
	She watched them chatter and preen, thinking about the irony of it all. They had marriages of convenience, marriages that would last a lifetime, full of security and affection, but not love, perhaps, while she was passionately in love with her temporary husband, due to be cast aside like worn out slippers. How unfair life was! 
	With great effort, Tora tore her thoughts away from her own predicament. The women's voices had grown grave. They spoke in hushed tones that the men were impatient to be off. Rumor had it that the Vårbelgs were calling Haakon the "sleeping king", due to his lack of action, and this rankled the fighting men. Tonight's celebration was to appease them yet a little longer. 
	Tora sat quietly by, not adding her own opinion. If any of the ladies noted her moodiness, none bothered to say so. Unable to concentrate on her needlepoint, she pushed it aside and stared out the window. In the hazy distance she could see the camps of the warriors who had gathered to aid King Haakon defeat Skule Baardsson. Their fires smoked dismally as a light drizzle fell from a gray late January sky. 
	Too restless to remain inside, Tora made her excuses to the queen, threw a warm cloak about her shoulders, and strolled the castle grounds. The fresh air lifted her spirits as she wandered about. There was no sign of Magnus, but her thoughts dwelt on him so that he might just as well have been there by her side—he and Vigdis. Tora wrapped her arms about herself.
	"You have no claim on him, no right to demand his affection or fealty. He was not required to give that to you as you did to him. It is usual for the nobility to have dalliances, remember?" she muttered to herself. They were easy words to say, but her heart rebelled against them. She despaired as the vision of the two lovers entwined in each others arms came to her. She agonized over it till she made herself sick and ashamed. 
	The sound of her name on the wind broke into her miserable thoughts. She turned, seeing Nikolas hurrying toward her. 
	"Dear Cousin," he called, laughing. "You look quite lost. May this chivalrous knight be of service to you?" His eyes danced with mischief, his cheeks flushed with cold. Tora put up her guard against her vulnerable feelings and with a bravado she did not feel, laughed.
	"Why, fair knight, you have saved me!" Tora clutched her mittened hands to her bosom dramatically. "I thought I might die from boredom. Tell me, do you know where everyone is?" she asked, gesturing at the empty courtyard. 
	Nikolas made a face. "Every servant is up to their elbows in work and the ladies are preparing for the festival this evening, no doubt. But you have no need of hours of preparation, have you sweet, Tora. Your beauty needs no kohl or heavy scents. You have but to bat your eyes and every man will fall to their knees before you," Nikolas exclaimed. He fell to one knee and claimed Tora's hand. "Tell me, Lily of the Valley, what this humble servant can do for you."
	Tora tugged at Nikolas's arm until he stood on his feet again.
	She smiled genuinely up at him. "Are you never forlorn, Nikolas?"
	"Only when you deny me your attentions, dear lady." He lowered his head and gave her a lingering kiss. 
	Tora blushed, but did not take Nikolas seriously. Normal codes of decorum did not seem to apply to him. "Have you seen my lord and master?" she asked, her tone flippant.
	Nikolas grimaced. "He is holed up with the king and his council. They are probably deep in discussion of strategy and making great plans to bring about The Scoundrel's demise."


AS NIKOLAS SPOKE, Magnus stood indeed in the king's chambers, gazing out the window at the couple in the courtyard. One hand clutched the windowsill, the other his sword hilt. So pre-occupied was he with Nikolas kissing Tora that he failed to hear the king ask his opinion on a matter. He was unaware the king awaited an answer from him until a heavy hand was laid upon his shoulder.
	"Ah," Haakon said, following Magnus's gaze. "'Tis no wonder your thoughts are not with us when such a vision is within your sight. The queen is very much taken with your Tora, Magnus. She said her openness and lack of coyness is as refreshing as her natural beauty. You, my friend, are a fortunate man." 
	The only fortunate man, Magnus thought blackly, is Nikolas, as I cannot reach out and throttle him this instant. His mood did not improve when he saw the two head for the stables, Tora's hand tucked in the crook of Nikolas's arm.

ANNA GLOWED As she recounted the activity downstairs in the Great Hall as she readied Tora for the feast. "The balcony and most of the floor are already filled with milling people. The ladies are dressed in a multitude of colors and fabrics. Never have I seen such colors and patterns in the cloth! Several look to have gold threads woven through them. But the oddest thing, I think, is the long train that a few of the women are wearing. More than one needs a young page to carry it about for them. And every now and then they give the train the oddest shake. Hildur says it's to shake off the invisible imps which ride them." 
	Tora only half listened to Anna's excited chatter. She was too preoccupied with how she would manage to get through the evening with Magnus and Vigdis in the same room. Her heart was heavy and she was on the verge of tears all the time, but outwardly, she strove to appear cool and nonchalant.
	"Oh, Tora, you look lovely tonight. Your gown becomes you very much." 
	Tora regarded her image in the narrow silver mirror that was mounted on one stone wall. She ran her hands down her sides and over her hips. She could not get used to her womanly curves so exposed to everyone's sight. Her high-necked dress in ivory silk covered her from her chin to her toes. It sleeves were full length, slim along her arms and ending in a wide vee at her wrists. Over that she wore a sleeveless full-length tunic in indigo-blue fustian. She wrapped the silver-linked belt about her hips and touched the heavy ruby crucifix that rested upon her bosom. Magnus's runic bracelet flashed at her wrist. 
	What would her folk at Loren think of her now, she wondered? Would they think she had betrayed them and her father by succumbing to the frivolity of a noble lifestyle, or would they understand that at heart she remained their Tora, a woman surviving in a difficult situation as best she could? She sighed. At this point, she didn't even know herself.
	Anna finished Tora's toilette by gathering up her hair and twisting the golden tresses into an elegant, yet simple bun at the nape of her neck. On her head, she placed a starched white clout which covered most of her hair, while leaving soft curls loose about her face.
	"You look quite fetching, also, Anna," Tora murmured to her best friend. She wanted to share all her woes with Anna, but Anna looked so excited, her face glowing with anticipation, that Tora hesitated to ruin her evening. "Will you be seeing Henrik?"
	"He said that I must dance every dance with only him," she smiled.

ANNA HAD NOT exaggerated about the activity in the Great Hall. A blast of warm air hit them as they entered the vaulted room. Fresh rushes had been strewn along the floor, but its effect was lost among scents of roasting meat and the reek of sweaty men and wood smoke. Tora stood on tip-toe to see over the crowd to find Magnus. He was nowhere to be seen.
	Servants were carrying in huge baskets of flatbread, nuts, dried figs and apples. Platters of roasted fowl and cauldrons of fish were brought in on carts. People sat themselves at four rows of tables that covered the Hall from one end to the other. 
	The king and queen arrived, taking their places on a dais at the head of the room. Beside the king sat the Bishop of Bjørgvin. Tora stared from a distance at the purple of his robes. She had never seen such a magnificent color before, though she recalled Edda telling her, as she taught Tora the skills of dyeing cloth, that such colors came from Italy where the priests had learned to extract them from lichen. The lords and ladies found their places at the end of the tables closest to the king, while town folk and soldiers seated themselves at the far ends. 
	Henrik had come and claimed Anna and the two of them had moved toward the far end of the room. Tora did not see Magnus anywhere. She didn't know what to do and was relieved when Nikolas saw her predicament and came to her rescue.
	"My lady cousin, may I have the honor of escorting you to sup?" he asked, proffering her his arm. 
	Tora nodded and smiled. "Thank you, Nikolas. I thank you for your kindness." Formalities done away with, Nikolas seated Tora beside him, among the nobility of the realm. He kept up a constant chatter with Tora and the people around him. Tora answered him absent-mindedly, her gaze roaming the room for Magnus. She frowned as she saw him arrive at last, followed closely by Vigdis.

MAGNUS'S GAZE searched the room for Tora. He spotted her finally, sitting beside Nikolas. His hands knotted into fists. He was sure Nikolas tried to seduce Tora with his wits and charm. He had seen Nikolas in action with women before, and he vowed to slice the mongrel in two if he stepped out of line with his wife. His attention wavered from the pair when he was called to attend the king.
	"Magnus, you will grace us with your presence," Haakon said, motioning to a seat beside the Bishop. 
	Magnus's mood darkened. He did not hold with many of the views of the Catholic church, and he had seen enough sick and corrupt priests in his day to fill his gullet. The gods are against me. Things took a turn for the worse as Vigdis slithered into the seat on his other side. 
	Supper waxed insufferable. Magnus seethed as he commented on Vigdis's insipid remarks and walked the sword's edge of keeping his remarks to the Bishop acceptable to the powerful man. His mind was not on his companions, however. His restless gaze continued to seek out Tora and Nikolas, who were laughing and talking together. Maybe he should have been more honest with her about his reasons for wanting to keep her to himself. The truth was, he didn't want to share her attentions with anyone else. But instead of confessing his feelings for her, he had given her an order—and he should know by now how she balked when he grew gruff with her.
	"Magnus, I hesitate to mention this, and I do so only because I know you to be an honorable man, a man who would not tolerate such a slight against his person," Vigdis stated in a dramatic whisper. 
	Magnus brought his head up to stare at her as these last words caught his attention. 
	"My maid told me your lady was spied, well, I hesitate to even say it, and I swore the silly woman to silence—"
	"Enough woman! Get to the point!" Magnus bit out, his patience gone.	
	"Well, in a compromising position. Apparently, Kolbein and she were discovered by a maid in your own room. Of course, I am sure it was all in innocence, perhaps just an exchange of no import?" Vigdis's contrived uncertainty hung in the air.
	"My woman insists this maid was paid handsomely by Kolbein to keep her silence. Not handsomely enough, it seems," Vigdis chuckled nervously. "But dwell not on it, my lord. Rumors, it is, just rumors. I told the woman I would have her head on a plate if she so much as breathed a word against you or Tora to anyone else." 
	Vigdis's barbs hit their mark and Magnus glowered at his cup, wanting to crush it with his bare hand. He had spent nearly every waking moment lately with the king and his council, advising and listening to plans to stop Skule. He had not had the opportunity to spend any time with Tora. If this was how she acted when he wasn't present—making a fool of him in front of his peers—then by Odin, he would tie her to the bedpost and keep her there.
	
"DON'T LOOK now, Tora, but your dear husband is casting a baleful eye upon you," Nikolas whispered, his head close to hers. 
	Tora smiled her brightest smile, but inside she could feel her annoyance growing. What right did he have becoming angry with her? Here she sat with kindred, while he blatantly held company with the countess. He was making a fool of her, dangling that harlot right beneath her nose!  
	"Shall we give him something to be angry about?" Nikolas smiled, placing his hand upon Tora's.
	Tora hesitated. "He beat you for nothing the first time he saw you with me, Nikolas. I will not see you hurt, just so that you can amuse yourself at his expense."
	"Think about how he humiliated you in front of everyone at Ringebu, Tora. Have you forgotten already? And look at the way he is flirting with the countess. She is like a bitch in heat. Why should you act the demure, servile wife while he flaunts a dalliance right before your eyes?" 
	Tora looked at him. Did he know how the word "servile" would irk her, and he had used it deliberately? It didn't matter. No further prodding was needed. Nikolas thrived on irritating his powerful cousin, and this time she would go along with him.
	Tora watched the countess and Magnus. Vigdis had her hand on Magnus's arm and whispered in his ear. Tora gritted her teeth and wanted to scream. At that moment she could very easily draw and quarter the woman and hang her red-locked head from the gates of Sverresborg. Magnus deserved a taste of his own medicine. She drew a long breath and, releasing it, turned to Nikolas. She placed her hand upon his arm and smiled up at him.
	"All right, cousin. Let us see if he even notices us. By the looks of things, his attentions are elsewhere," she said, a jealous note in her voice. 
	"It really does bother you that he is with the countess, doesn't it," Nikolas said. 
	Tora did not reply, but picked up a dried fig and placed it to Nikolas's lips. He smiled, and bit it with his strong, white teeth. "What a she-bear you are, cousin."
	When everyone had eaten their fill, the benches were moved against the walls and people once again drifted about the Hall and the balconies. Dancers, jugglers and musicians entertained the crowd until the skald came forward. He bowed to the king and queen and seated himself upon a stool in the middle of the room. He told a sorrowful tale of unrequited love.
	He could be describing me! Tora thought, and her throat tightened. She mustn't feel sorry for herself. The skald ended his act with a rowdy joke, and the crowd burst out laughing. The musicians played again and the king and queen led their people in the first dance.
	Tora had drunk more than she should, and the room spun as Nikolas whirled her around and around, her hands on his shoulders and his on her waist. She found herself passed off from one man to the next. Each held her too close, their eyes glued to her bosom. Though revolted by their attentions, she forced herself not to take offence, and concentrated on what effect it would have on Magnus, should he be watching her. Finally, she whirled into the arms of Kolbein. 
	
MAGNUS HAD tried without luck to make his way to Tora. It seemed that everyone present wanted a word with him. A clap on the back, a question about strategy, wishes to bargain, introductions to sisters and daughters kept him from reaching her. He had watched helplessly and angrily as she danced with one man after another. But he became alarmed when he saw her dance into the arms of Kolbein. She looked so at ease in his arms as he spun her about the floor.
	Magnus wanted to shout when Kolbein led Tora from the Hall. Could Vigdis's rumors be true? The man had no scruples and had a reputation for his antics in the bedchamber with the women he managed to charm, that he knew. 
	Magnus abruptly left the person talking to him and shoved his way through the throng of people. Men cursed him and women complained, but he didn't care. His only thought was to reach Tora before Kolbein could get her alone to himself. He stopped short when he came face to face with Ulv. The man was drunk.
	"Magnus my friend," Ulv boomed, his eyes bloodshot, his stance wide as if he strove to keep his balance on the deck of a ship at sea. "Why did you not tell me you were such a generous man? Shall you not share your wife with me, as you seem to be doing with so many others tonight?"
	The unfortunate Ulv found the wind knocked out of him and his feet dangling above the ground as Magnus picked him up by the neck and thrust him up against the stone wall.
	"Oomph!" he groaned before Magnus let go of him. He slid to the ground, his legs spread-eagle, and his eyes rolled up in his head.
	Magnus made short work of reaching Tora. 

HAVING GOTTEN a drink of water, Tora danced again with Kolbein, unaware of the drama taking place around her. She kept her eyes closed as Kolbein led her through an intricate dance. In her mind, she danced with Magnus. His arms were about her, his body led her so decisively across the floor. She could not deny it; even crushed by his deceitfulness, she still longed for Magnus.
	Her eyes flew open when Kolbein came to an abrupt halt. Confused, she looked about her. Magnus towered over them, eyes blazing and face flushed. Tora noted the muscle jumping in his jaw, and well acquainted with its significance, swallowed hard, in no doubt as to what had put him into such a mood.
	Magnus took her by her arm and unceremoniously steered her through the crowd and out of the Hall. Tora dared not say anything, thoughts whirling through her head as to what would happen next. He led her swiftly to their room and slammed the door behind him.
	"You are a foolish woman, defiant and headstrong! I have a mind to take my belt to you now and then tie you to the bed so I can keep you in your place!" 
	Tora gasped. "But why? What wrong have I done that you haven't done yourself?"
	Magnus ignored her outburst. "I warned you about Nikolas and the other men here. I told you to stay away from them. Instead, you ignore my orders and flirt outrageously with them. You gave me your assurance you would show me respect in public, but all I have seen and heard lately is that you are acting like a wanton whore, shaming yourself and me!"
	His words lashed her with the sting of a whip. Tora understood Magnus's jealousy, and perhaps she had gone too far, but she was not the only one in the wrong here. 
	"Do you not know why I have spent so much time with Nikolas? Where have you kept yourself this whole time? First you come to bed reeking of wine, then you come not to bed at all!" Tora glared at him, balling her fists. 
	"'Tis said that you have entertained Kolbein here in our bed!"
	"'Tis a lie!" 
	"And you flirt with my cousin like an unwed maid and even have the audacity to kiss him!" Magnus bellowed. 
	"Audacity! Well, I...you, sweet Mary!," Tora sputtered. "I saw you kiss Vigdis! She's been all over you. Did you bed her the nights you came not to my chamber?" Tora stood right up to him, her chin thrust into the air, meeting his blue eyes, so dark now with emotion, with an unwavering stare of her own.
	Magnus took in her words. "You saw the countess kiss me, and did not say anything? You were jealous and wanted revenge? Is that what this is all about?" 
	He seemed suddenly relieved, and his reaction baffled her. He stepped away from her and ran his hand through his unruly hair, shaking his head at her. 
	His nonchalance over her accusation, and his lack of denial, made her blood boil. She stomped her foot as her cheeks burned. "You do not deny the kiss?"
	"Of course not. It happened. You saw it with your own eyes, apparently. Though there is thing you should know about what you saw." His mouth turned up at the corner.
	"If you laugh Magnus, I will tear you apart with my bare hands!"  
	Magnus wrapped his arms about her and fell onto the bed with her, his weight pinning her down.
	"Then I had best protect myself." He stared down at her, the anger leaving his face, a teasing twinkle in his eyes. But he must have realized how upset she was for he sobered. "She kissed me, by the way. What you didn't know, my hot-headed one, is that I made it very clear to the countess her attentions were not welcome."
	"But I saw you later with her, and again just this evening," Tora protested.
	"Yes, but that was ill chance. I suffered greatly stuck between the drooling countess and the Holy Father. It didn't help one bit to watch you flirting with Nikolas, either," Magnus explained, his expression turning hard again.
	"But I only flirted with him to get back at you," Tora exclaimed, desperately wanting to get rid of the remaining anger in his face. He did relax then. He smiled down at her, his eyes glowing with a warmth she had never seen before.
	"If you must know, I found the countess' attentions very unsatisfying." Magnus caressed her face with his hand. "It seems that you have bewitched me, wife, and I have come to prefer your far-too-frank exchanges with me over the beguiling coyness of court-women."
	Tora swallowed the lump in her throat. "I am sorry, Magnus, for all the trouble I have caused you. I have been so lonely. And I couldn't stand to see that woman draped upon your arm, and—"
	Magnus cut her off with a gentle kiss. 
	"Hush, woman, you talk too much," he commanded, and kissed her more deeply. "I am sorry, too."
	Tora wrapped her arms about his neck, her hands running through his thick waves, letting his kisses sweep her anxieties away. Warmth spread throughout her limbs as the fire deep within her grew, making her forget all her sorrows in the intensity of her longing for Magnus.
	Magnus crushed her to him, her slim length pressed against him and rolled onto his back. "What the devil...?" he cursed. To her amazement, he rolled back again, releasing her and turning to look behind him. From among the bedclothes, he picked up a brooch and turned it over in his hands. He held it up to the firelight, its design a silver round-pin with an amber oval in its middle. 
	Tora watched Magnus curiously, waiting for him to turn his ardent attentions back to her, and started when he swore. He jumped out of bed, his sudden wrath amazing to see.
	"You treacherous bitch!", he ground out. "What a fool I have been. Here I let you lull me into believing all is well and good between us, while you betray me behind my back!"
	Tora sat up, upset by his words. "What is it, Magnus—what have you found?"
	"Your lover's brooch, that's what I have found, you conniving slut." 
	Tora gaped at him. "My what?" she began, but Magnus cut her off.
	"I should have heeded the words of those who tried to warn me of your unfaithfulness. I should have known that the apple never falls far from the tree. A dishonorable father can only breed dishonorable brats! Did you think you might better your odds of becoming with child by pairing with other men? Did you think I would not know if you bore me a bastard?" 
	His hurtful words struck her like a thousand daggers. She watched appalled as his mouth curled in derisive lines.
	"Magnus, I have not been unfaithful to you. I have flirted with men, 'tis true, but only to get back at your attentions to Vigdis. I know not who that brooch belongs to, nor how it has come to be in our bed." She rose to her knees on the bed and reached out to touch him. Magnus took a step back; his face now chiseled in stone.
	"Please, you must believe me!" Her blood froze in her veins as his scathing glare swept over her. His eyes were like ice, all feeling except loathing gone from them. She caught her breath as he picked up his sword belt and buckled it around his hips. "What are you going to do?" 
	Cold blue eyes swivelled to look at her. "I am going to kill the whoreson who you have spread your legs for—and then I am going to kill you," he said, his voice cold and grim.
	Tora knelt on the bed, paralyzed by his words. Not until the door thudded shut and the key turned in the lock was she able to react. She leapt off the bed and ran to the door.
	"Magnus, no, you are wrong!" she cried, pounding the heavy door with her fists. "Magnus!" she called again. 
	Only reproving silence met her ears. I must get out. She had no idea who her "lover" was supposed to be, but clearly, Magnus was going to kill an innocent man. Tora ran to the window, but balked at the blackness that waited below. She continued to pound the door, her fists thudding dully on the thick wood panels. She cried out for help. The minutes slipped by, and she lost hope.
	"Tora, are you all right? What's going on?" she heard Anna's voice through the door.
	"Anna, unlock the door!" Not waiting to explain to her friend, Tora rushed past Anna as soon as the door swung open. She ran blindly down the corridor, not knowing where she should go, but deciding the Great Hall would be the first place to look for Magnus.
	Then she heard the clash of metal close at hand. She turned down a corridor to her left and entered a dimly lit courtyard. The weak light of burning torches placed in the walls cast a macabre light upon the horrifying scene playing out before her eyes.
	A small crowd of people clustered about, watching as Magnus and another fought with short swords. Tora pushed and shoved her way to the front, only to have strong hands grip her and prevent her from reaching him. She screamed at him to stop, but to no avail.
	Magnus had removed his kirtle and attacked his opponent with a fury that unsurpassed anything she had ever seen before. To her horror, she saw he fought Kolbein.
	The fight did not last long. Magnus out-maneuvered Kolbein from the very beginning, wounding him with each thrust of the sword, but not killing him. Kolbein grunted as Magnus jabbed his thigh and then his upper arm. To Tora, it looked like a grotesque dance, the advancing, thrusting, and retreating. Soon Kolbein, drenched in his own blood, stood swaying upon his feet. He fell and, with one final thrust, Magnus drove his sword deep into his chest. Tora's knees buckled, only the arms that gripped her keeping her from falling to the ground.
	Magnus came to her then and looked grimly down into her eyes. He grabbed her by the arm and hauled her over to stand beside the corpse. He wiped his blade off on the dead man's clothes and resheathed it.
	"Look well, Tora. Because of your treachery, a man now lies dead. Be it on your conscience." 
	With these grim words, Magnus pulled her from the courtyard, his arm biting hard into her upper arm. Neither took notice of the commotion that the crowd made upon their exit, nor the triumphant smile that spread across Vigdis's face.
	
GUARDS INTERCEPTED them as they reached Tora's room and Magnus was escorted to the king's private chambers. He knelt before Haakon, his fists clenched at his sides. Queen Margrete stood to one side, wringing her hands. The king waved his attendants from the room.
	"Jarl Magnus, you have broken the king's peace. What have you to say to this accusation?" Haakon asked, his broad face drawn in concerned lines. "I have never known you to act so impulsively and so savagely off the battlefield." 
	Magnus remained kneeling, as his king had not given him permission to rise.
	"I have been betrayed, my liege. My wife," he said, his lip curling in distaste, "has taken a lover. I had heard ugly rumors about her lack of decorum, but tonight, they were confirmed."	
	"I do not believe it," Queen Margrete breathed stepping up beside the king. "What proof have you of such treachery?"
	"This, my queen, the brooch of the whoreson who I, myself, have witnessed flirting with the...I found it in our bed." He presented the brooch for her inspection. The queen took it from him, her face drawn in distress, and turned it over and over in her hands.
	"And you are sure of its owner?" she asked with a quaver in her voice.
	"He lies dead in the courtyard. It was Kolbein," Magnus answered. The memory of Kolbein lying bloody and lifeless did little to alleviate the anguish and betrayal that filled his heart.
	"I do not believe it," she repeated. "Tora would never do such a thing. She is a courageous and forthright woman."
	"She is a treacherous, disloyal bitch, and I will kill her for her deceitfulness!" His voice rang out against the stone walls. With each hard word, he felt a new rend in his heart, but he used his anger to hide his feelings. Had Tora come to mean so much to him?
	"She loves you," the queen said, remaining cool as Magnus became more heated.
	Magnus shook his head.
	"No. She cannot love me. She is only with me to save her dishonorable father. And she is as lacking in honor as he is," he said bitterly. 
	The queen went to stand by Haakon and took his hand. "Look at me, Magnus," she commanded. "Here before you sits a mighty and most honorable king—a man, my husband, who has ever striven to keep the peace of this country, despite the treachery of his father-in-law, my father. Do you know the difference between you two, that sets you so apart at this moment? It is this; that no matter how grave my father's sins have been against both him and this great land, the king has never, never, blamed me for his actions. You should never have held Tora responsible for her father's wrong against you."
	"Tell me, Magnus, how Tora answered your accusations against her," King Haakon broke in.
	"She denied everything, of course. She is as sly and conniving as all women, but the evidence was there." 
	"Sly and conniving—as I am, Magnus?" the queen asked angrily. "Men make up the rules of this land, and if women have to work their wiles on men to survive, then men have only themselves to blame. But Tora is not such a woman. I would not believe it if you had told me you had found both of them beneath the covers of your bed!"
	Magnus did not acknowledge the queen's diatribe, but waited simmering for the king to pronounce his sentence. The king called to his attendants to act as witnesses. After a thoughtful silence, King Haakon spoke.
	"I fine you forty marks of silver for the killing of Kolbein. I place Tora, Countess of the Highlands, under my personal protection. You, Jarl Magnus, I will send north with my army to search for and destroy Skule Baardsson. This I command as your king." He paused. "As your friend, I hope you shall one day grow wise enough to recognize the pearl which you would let fall through your fingers like so much sand."
	As Magnus left the king to find his bed among his men, Vigdis stepped out from behind a curtained alcove. 
	"Magnus," she called to him. 
	Magnus ignored her. The last thing he wanted this night was to have to face another woman. He began to think the priests' conviction that all women are manipulative, conniving creatures held some weight. 
	"Magnus," she called again, hurrying to catch up to him. She grabbed his arm in an effort to halt his progress. 
	He shook her hand off and turned a sneering face to her. "Be gone, damn you." Vigdis's clinging possessiveness disgusted him. She coveted him like a dog with a bone and he wanted to be rid of her. "I have told you I have a wife and that I have no interest in you," he spat. He felt no remorse as Vigdis cringed before him. "Go wag your tail at some man who pants as much as you." With that, Magnus strode away.

VIGDIS RAN TO her room and vented her frustrations on the pillows and bedding there. She had followed Magnus to the king's chambers and had waited outside for his return. She could hardly contain her glee, as she had thought everything had gone beautifully. It had been so easy—the sowing of a few ugly rumors, and the planting of Kolbein's brooch in Tora's bed! She had been sure, without a single doubt, that she had rid herself both of Tora and of Kolbein and that Magnus was now within her grasp. And then he had treated her like dirt, dismissed her as so much baggage. She couldn't remember all that he had said, but his words of "wife" and "no interest" continued to ring in her ears. 
	So, she thought, Tora remains a threat to my success with Magnus. Well, she would just have to remove her permanently from the picture. A wicked smile spread upon her ruby lips. She had done it twice already; it would be no hardship to kill Tora, too.

"TORA, TORA, speak to me! Tell me how this calamity could have befallen us this night!" Anna chafed Tora's icy hands and stared into her face. 
	Tora sat on the floor near the fire, her feet tucked close beside her. She stared into the flames, only vaguely aware of Anna's presence. She tried to concentrate on the flames, but the flashes of red among the orange and blue brought vivid images of Kolbein's bloody, lifeless body before her. I must be cursed, first my father responsible for the death of an innocent, and now me.
	No matter. Nothing mattered anymore. Magnus said he would kill her, and she fully expected he would. But even that did not matter. She felt dead already. The complete loathing and betrayal that had been mirrored in his eyes had already killed her.
	"Tora, you must tell me. Did you sleep with Kolbein?" 
	Anna grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. She pulled her eyes away from the fire with great effort and met the frightened gaze of her friend. How could she even ask her that? Was there no one who had faith in her, no one who trusted her?
	Suddenly, Tora found herself embraced by Anna.
	"No, 'tis a stupid question. I know you are pure of heart and mind. I just don't understand how this terrible tragedy could have occurred." Tora could not return her friend's embrace or reassure her. She was sick with dread and self-loathing and exhausted in every limb. If she could just close her eyes and sleep, perhaps she would wake up and find that all of this was just a horrible nightmare. 
	The two women held a silent vigil as the hours crept by. They awaited Magnus, but he never came. Finally, as the darkness reluctantly gave way to the light of a new day, Anna coaxed her to lie down on the bed. Anna lay beside her, holding her close. At last, both fell into an uneasy slumber.

(bm) Chapter 22

"YOU'RE WORKING yourself to death, man," Aksel noted as he watched Magnus heave yet another cask aboard the ship. Magnus cast a baleful eye upon him and continued with his labors. "Men are complaining'..."
	"Let them complain," came the terse reply and a grunt. 
	Aksel removed his cap and scratched his graying head. "Well, me thinks I know a stubborn ass when I see one, but damned if I can figure why you're acting like one. You know that Tora cannot have deceived you. She just doesn't have it in her." Aksel suddenly found himself up against the mast, Magnus's callused hand about his throat.
	"Don't ever mention her name to me again—not if you value your tongue!" Magnus dropped Aksel, and turned to continue his work. With great effort he picked up yet another barrel and bore it up the gangplank and onto the ship. Without pausing to catch his breath he retrieved another, and then another. Men grumbled and cast him dark looks as he cursed at them to pick up their pace.
	"Women!" spat one man on the deck. "They don't even 'ave to be yours and they bring you trouble!"
	"T'will come in handy on the battlefield," another man said. "I never seen 'im look so mean."
	"As long as 'e takes it out on them, and not us," grumbled his companion.
	Forty ships set sail out of Bergen harbor that February day. The king had held a mass that morning and now, at last, their journey had begun. Word had reached the king that a group of Skule's men were camped up the coast from Bergen. Magnus's vessels sailed into Veøy to seek them out, while the others continued on to Trondheim.
	"My sword thirsts for the taste of Vårbelgs' blood," one soldier said, his drawn blade flashing in the sun.
	"It's been far too long without a good fight," replied one man. "Let's hope the cowards have enough mettle in them to make it worth our while."
	Magnus stood listening to the various conversations about him. He, too, began to feel his blood heat and his heart pound as he imagined warring with his foes. His lip curled. He looked forward to slaying his enemy. 
	The gangplank lowered and the men disembarked from the ship. Their boots crunched on the frozen ground covered sporadically with patches of snow. Their breath made steamy clouds that dissipated in the wind from the coast. Quietly, the party climbed a gentle knoll. Lying flat on their stomachs, they peered over to scout for the Vårbelgs. 	
	"There!" hissed one man, pointing to the bottom of a shallow valley.
	"Look at 'em, like a grazing band of sheep—no idea their blood is going to flow today," whispered another. Magnus held up his arm. Bringing it down in one quick movement, and scrambling up to his feet, he gave a piercing battle cry that brought the men in the camp below to their feet. Others took up his cries. 
	A howling group of berserk warriors descended upon the camp. The hapless residents panicked. Most tried to flee, never even having drawn their swords. Magnus reached the leader and, with a powerful swing of his long sword, beheaded him with one blow. Within a few minutes the air hung heavy with the scent of blood. Those that escaped were not pursued. Around the band of men that followed Magnus lay the mutilated bodies of those who had not been so quick on their feet. 
	Pools of blood spread thinly on the frozen ground, bright red against the pure white of snow, and steam rose from the wounds of those newly dead. The king's men roamed the area, plundering anything of worth. Magnus then called to them and they made their way back to the ships. The Birkebeiners did not bother to bury the dead. They knew the Vårbelgs would return and do that last duty for their companions.
	After that, the voyage to Trondheim was without further incident. Skule's spies warned the Vårbelgs of Haakon's travels so they were able to hide or seek refuge in the churches. They knew Haakon would not break God's peace by attacking those sanctuaries. Upon their arrival, they discovered that Skule had fled Trondheim, taking his army south toward Oslo. Haakon set his men to securing the city. Haakon ransacked Skule's remaining ships, and those he did not need, he burned.

"MAGNUS, MAGNUS," she called to him. 
	Magnus lay upon the soft bed of the forest floor, and stirred to find Tora stepping toward him, her honey blond hair cascading about her naked flesh like a gossamer robe. She laid down beside him and spread her limbs to embrace him wholly. She made love to him then, passionately, giving herself totally to him. Magnus groaned. Suddenly, Tora was wrenched from his arms, and he opened his heavy lids to see her being dragged away by a laughing Vigdis.
	Tora cried out to him, reaching out her arms in supplication to him. He tried to run after her, but struggled and fought as if his legs were imprisoned in irons. He panted with effort, sweat pouring down his glistening body, straining against unseen forces that held him chained to the spot. Tora vanished, and he cried out in anguish.
	Magnus jerked upright, beads of sweat upon his brow in spite of the cold March air. He groaned and ran his hand through his hair and over his face before resting his head in his hands. That dream again. Falling exhausted on his pallet each night, having deliberately driven himself to physical and mental fatigue, was not enough to keep the dream away.
	He stood up and shook himself like a dog, left his sleeping men and sought the tranquillity of the outdoors. To the east, the dark of night gave way to the grayness of the false dawn. Magnus shivered, but ignored the cold. His heart beat heavy and these recurring dreams plagued him. In each, Tora came to him, innocently and lovingly, and in each loomed a dark, sinister shape behind her. Magnus instinctively wanted to protect Tora but was helpless to reach her. He ran his hand through his hair again. Dreams were significant; everyone knew that.
	"Vigdis," he murmured to himself. This was the first time the looming shape had taken physical form. "Are you behind all this trouble, I wonder?" A glimmer of hope touched his heart. He went to wake Aksel.
	He had been crushed by the thought that Tora had betrayed him so. And this feeling had surprised him. Had he come to care so much for her? Seeing her in other men's arms had made him miserable, just as much as it had elated him when she came to him and gave herself so freely and lovingly to him. Lovingly—Queen Margrete had said that Tora loved him. Could it be true? The possibility further raised his spirits. 
	"Aksel." He shook his man awake. "Come with me." 
	Aksel followed Magnus to the chapel. There the two sat down.
	"Aksel, tell me about Tora."
	"You mean to tell me you woke me in the middle of the night to talk about women? Confound it, man!" he grumbled. "You'll not cut my tongue out?" he asked, cocking one eyebrow at Magnus. 
	Magnus smiled for the first time in weeks.
	"Your woman is a warrioress—proud, stubborn and honorable. She's a she-bear who will fight fiercely for those she cares for, and she would rather die than be dishonored."
	"You are as she is. Only you're a stubborn ass who can't see further than his face. You can't even see what a good, gentle creature you would cast away from you like so many chewed bones. Do I have to beat it into you again?" Aksel asked. 
	Magnus snorted and shook his head.
	"'Course you did find that brooch in your bed."
	"Yes," acknowledged Magnus, his spirit dampening. The cold damnation of that brooch he'd held in his hand flowed back into his heart. "I did at that." 

(bm) Chapter 23

Bergen, March, 1240

TORA WATCHED a wagtail skitter on the cobblestones in front of her. She threw a few crumbs from her bread down to the little fellow and smiled sadly. Usually, the wagtails brought her great cheer; their energetic movements and bright black and white plumage represented the emerging energy of Nature, newly released from a long winter's slumber.
	Already there were eight more hours of daylight than there had been at Christmas, and Tora knew that in another few weeks she would be able to find white and blue anemone poking their heads through the thawing earth. To experience Nature's quickening had always excited her. She had always looked forward to each new sign of the coming growing season. 
	Except this year.
	Tora sighed and continued her aimless stroll about the grounds of the castle. A year ago her father had killed Magnus's son; a year ago she had become embroiled in a drama she had neither sought nor wished for. And as miserable as she had been then, she didn't think anything could compare to the heartache and misery she felt now.
	She wanted to be angry with Magnus over his lack of trust in her, his total dismissal of her denial that she had been unfaithful to him, but she couldn't. She felt only a bleakness and emptiness where there had once been so much feeling. Since the night Kolbein died, she had neither seen nor heard from Magnus. She knew that he traveled with the king and she had heard the news that filtered back to Bergen from the north, but no message did she receive from him. 
	Anna approached Tora, her determined steps bringing her swiftly to her friend.
	"Tora, put on this cloak. Gone from your wits, are you. You'll catch your death of a cold out here in only your gown," Anna chided. 
	Tora knew the reason Anna regarded her so closely and why her friend frowned as she drew the cloak about her and fastened it with a brooch at her neck. She had seen her own reflection in a puddle of standing water and the sight had not been pleasant. The image was but a reflection of her soul: the dark circles under her eyes, her pasty complexion, the hollows of her cheekbones and the strained lines about her mouth were physical signs of the deterioration of her spirit.
	Tora knew her friend was concerned for her, but she had not the strength to reassure her. Strange that her anguish at the loss of Magnus had resulted in such marked physical pain. She ached in her joints, had no energy and had lost her appetite. She had even vomited yesterday and was not at all sure that she would not do so again today.
	"Come in with me, Tora," said Anna. "You are not well. Me thinks 'tis time we asked for a physician to see you." 
	Tora allowed Anna to lead her inside and up into her room. She did not protest as Anna undressed her and put her to bed.
	"I'll be back as soon as I can," she said, placing a cool hand on Tora's warm forehead.
	Tora exhaled and closed her heavy eyes. She heard the door close as Anna left to seek help.

"'TIS NOT LIKE Tora to act so lifeless," Anna continued, after having explained Tora's condition to the queen and her ladies in waiting. "I have seen her sick before, but nothing like this. She is a strong woman and never keeps to her bed long."	
	"It seems she has lost the will to live," commented Hildur. 
	"She loves Magnus, and now that he has cast her away, she is suffering from a broken heart," added the queen.
	"But Tora is not like that," insisted Anna. "Yes, she moped and pined for Magnus the first week after that tragic evening, but as I said before, she has bone in her nose. It's not like her to take a beating and not get up again. Something is terribly amiss."
	"I will send my personal physician to her," declared Queen Margrete. "Hildur and Ellen, you two shall take turns with Anna in nursing Tora." 	
	All three women were in Tora's chamber when the physician, Simon, arrived. He had brought with him a basket containing a variety of herbs, roots and plant parts, as well as knives and other utensils, which looked more like instruments of torture than healing. 
	Simon's bushy eyebrows drew together as he gazed down upon Tora. He remembered how she had appeared to him that day she and Magnus had visited his apothecary and hospital. Then, her blue eyes had danced with excitement, her cheeks flushed with the blush of youth. He did not like what he saw before him now. He placed a meaty hand upon her brow.
	"You are a bit feverish, my lady, but not dangerously so," he said. He moved his hands along her limbs with the experienced gentleness peculiar to caregivers, bending her joints and regarding the color of her nails. "Do your joints pain thee?" he asked. 
	Tora nodded. 
	"And are you sore anywhere here?" he inquired as he pressed here and there upon her abdomen. 
	Tora groaned.
	"Yes. Stomach cramps that are as sharp as knives," she said, and looked up into Simon's worried face. 
	"I shall bleed you, dear lady, to draw away the sick blood. A soothing drink of chamomile and boneset is in order, too. You women shall feed her broth and gruel to help her gain her strength back. And fetch a priest to say prayers for her." Taking a stone with runes from his pocket, he placed it under Tora's pillow. We shall seek help where we can, Simon thought to himself.

SIMON CAME back to see Tora two days later. Seeing her condition had not improved, he proceeded to bleed her again. She closed her eyes and drifted to sleep, too weak to take any notice of what happened to her. 
	"The stomach cramps have become stronger and more frequent, sapping her from any strength she might have hoped to gain. I am most distressed," Hildur whispered to Anna. Her hands knotted in her kirtle as she looked down upon the sleeping Tora. "Whatever are we going to do?" 
	Before Anna could answer, Tora moaned and drew her legs tight up against her chest. She rocked herself in a futile attempt to lessen the gut-rending pain of the cramps. She rolled to the side of the bed and suddenly vomited into the pot beside her. Hildur and Anna stared at each other, their eyes wide with shock. 
	"Go fetch Ellen right away, Hildur!" Anna cried, turning the girl and shoving her toward the door. Wringing out a cool cloth, Anna mopped Tora's face, soothing her with soft words as the cramps eased. Anna's own stomach knotted, the horror of what she had seen sinking in further with each passing moment.
	Ellen came rushing through the door, Hildur at her heels.
	"Tora has vomited black bile!" Anna cried. When she saw Ellen blanch at her alarming words, she knew that her worst thoughts were confirmed. "Tora is going to die! It is just as you said that Englishman died!" 
	Ellen's face hardened into bitter lines. "No, Anna, you think this is some blight that has crossed the seas from England, some putrid sickness? Twice now I have seen this affliction, and I don't believe it stems from sickness. Me thinks rather it is the doings of a demented woman with a rotting soul. This is Vigdis's doing! I would swear my life upon it. I had my suspicions that she had murdered her husband, but this," she said, pointing to Tora, "confirms them. We have all witnessed how she has tried to steal Magnus from Tora. She could not do it without first getting Tora out of the way. Hildur, run to the queen and ask that I be admitted to her right away! She will surely imprison Vigdis for this evil deed!"

VIGDIS LOOKED OUT her window and her laughter rang out as she saw the blue sky and sunshine outside. "A beautiful day, such a beautiful day," she sang to herself, whirling about her room. She stopped before the mirror and hugged herself. I have done it again! She wagged her finger at her reflection. 
	"Oh, you wicked, clever woman," she whispered to herself. "The fools have no idea how smart you are. A smidgen of Daphne at a time, and dear little Tora becomes oh, so sick."
	Daphne grew wild in the woods, along paths and other areas disturbed by man, easily distinguishable by its hard dark red berries that grew singly or in pairs directly upon its stems. Even the youngest children knew to avoid it, for ingestion of even a few berries produced terrible bleeding ulcers in the digestive tract. Vomiting and diarrhea were usual with smaller doses. A large dose or continuous ingestion were known to cause death.
	Vigdis twirled one of the rings on her finger, a dark ruby in a raised setting. The hard part had been to start the poisoning, but a bit of crushed Daphne in the tiny hidden compartment of her ring, and a pretense to greet Tora as she sat at her meal had been enough to do the trick. Once Tora remained confined to her chamber, with meals brought up to her, the task had become easier. And her plan was working perfectly!
	"Tut, tut," she clicked her tongue. "Any day now that bitch will lie in the cold earth, and Magnus will be mine! One day, I may even tell him it is because of me that he was freed from that burdensome woman." A loud rap on her door broke into her reverie.
	"Come in," she called, surprised when two armed guards entered.
	"You are to come with us, Countess, by orders of Her Majesty." 
	Vigdis smoothed her face of all expression. The hairs rose on the back of her neck, but she pushed her suspicions aside. She had been far too clever for anyone to accuse her of any wrongdoing. No one had ever seen her close to Tora's chamber or her food. Raising her chin, Vigdis swept past the guards and turned to make her way to the queen's chambers. 
	"To the Great Hall, Countess, if you please," the guard said gruffly. 
	"I shall speak to the queen about your impertinence," she snapped, suddenly afraid. Why hadn't the queen just sent a messenger, and why was she being summoned to the Great Hall and not to the queen's chambers? The guards ignored her. People she passed in the corridors sent her odd glances, wondering about the guard that escorted her.

(bm) Chapter 24

Trondheim, March, 1240
	
HAAKON PACED the battlements surrounding Trondheim. Stopping, he turned his face to the spring wind and stared out over the fjord. He called to a page to fetch Magnus to him. As he waited, he contemplated the consequences of the news he had just heard. The sobering news gave him the need to speak with his most trusted friend. He turned to watch Magnus's great strides eat up the distance between them. He could see that his fiercest warrior struggled with his own inner battles, but dismissed his concern for his friend for his concern for his nation.
	"Magnus, I have been out to Elgeseter. The nobles there sniggered as if they had received favorable news that I had not yet heard. This feeling of ill will has followed me throughout the day, and now I have had my suspicions confirmed."
	"What news have you?"
	"Jarl Knut and the sheriffs and army with him met Skule in Romerike at the farm called Låket. Knut's men won the first day's battle, but the second day, they retreated, after many good Birkebeiners fell."
	"Damn the Vårbelgs! A grave blow for us," Magnus cursed.
	"One man claimed that nearly the whole of my court in Viken is dead and gone and that Knut will flee the country."
	"You have no proof of the damages?" Magnus asked. 
	Haakon shook his head. 
	"Then we must hope for the best, gather the council together and plan our next move. We must not delay our return to the south. We waste precious time here in Trondheim, when Skule awaits our challenge in the south."
	Haakon called together the Øreting and had his son, Haakon the Younger, proclaimed heir to the throne. All present swore loyalty to the young heir apparent before Haakon and his army sailed back to Bergen. 

SHOUTS OF welcome and fanfare awaited the warriors as they sailed into Bergen harbor. People emptied from their houses and crowded along the quay. 
	"Tora, they've returned!" cried Anna, rushing into Tora's chamber. 
	Anna needn't have hurried. From her window Tora could hear the shouts of welcome. She clasped her hands together, striving to compose herself. Though she had gained strength since the poisoning had stopped over two weeks ago, and her body healed from its ordeal, yet was her heart sorely injured. Magnus's lack of faith in her had devastated her, and not only had Vigdis's treachery sapped her of her strength, it had robbed her of the wee babe that had begun to grow within her womb.
	The miscarriage happened after the poisoning had stopped and she had begun to feel somewhat well again. Already out of bed for short periods, Tora suddenly suffered the sharp cramps again one afternoon, and they had not ceased. Anna had found her collapsed on the floor and had run for Simon right away. 
	Tora had not even realized she was with child, having thought the lack of her monthly cycle due first to the calamity with Kolbein and then her illness. But as Anna, Ellen and Simon helped her through the gut-wrenching ordeal, the impact of the loss of that fragile life within her hit her and she wept bitter tears in Anna's arms. But now there were no tears left.
	"Are you afraid of what Magnus might do to you?" Anna asked. 
	"No, he cannot touch me, I am under the king's protection."
	Tora did not elaborate, but she had reached a decision. She would go home to Loren. If Magnus wanted her gone from there, he would have to come and physically remove her. She would no longer accept him as her husband. There was too much pain involved in loving him. She would appeal to the king and queen to put an end to this marital farce and beg them to spare her father. 
	"I will not see him. I shall keep the door barred, and not admit him." 

MAGNUS FOLLOWED the king into the Great Hall where he was greeted formally by the queen. I am still in her disfavor. He noted how the queen's eyes sparkled upon Haakon's entrance, how her smile lit up her face and felt sorry for himself. He would never know the love and loyalty of such a good woman. The queen took Haakon aside and they spoke together. Haakon made his way over to Magnus.
	"Come with us, we have something to show you." 
	Magnus opened his mouth to speak, but the king and queen were already on their way out of the room. He caught up to them.
	"Where are we going?"
	"You shall soon see," declared the queen, not giving him any further information. 
	They crossed the courtyard and entered a vaulted storage room, passed through it to a narrow hallway that sloped down below ground. Magnus realized they were headed to the dungeon, and his curiosity mounted. Two footmen carried torches, lighting the party's descent into the cold damp cells below. Magnus ducked his head to avoid the low ceiling.
	"Who's there, who is it? Have you come to release me?" a shrill voice called. 
	Magnus frowned. He recognized a woman's voice, but it cackled and harked like an old mad witch. The king and queen stopped before a barred door and then stood aside so that Magnus could approach. 
	Taking a torch, Magnus peered into the gloom before him. Behind the bars he could make out a woman, her long hair filthy and lank about her, her stained clothing hanging upon her skinny frame. She squatted at the top of the small cell; its stone floor sloped so that there was no room to stand except close to the bars. Magnus wrinkled his nose as the reek of urine and human excrement reached him. The woman's eyes widened when she saw him and she scurried down to the bars to clutch at his sleeve. Magnus jerked away in revulsion.
	"Who is that wretched creature?"  He stepped away from the cell and looked at Haakon. The queen answered.
	"'Tis the woman who betrayed you..." 
	"Magnus, my love, is that you? Have you come to free me at last? I just wanted to help you, Magnus. She was a burden to you, a nothing. I knew you wanted to be rid of her...I did it for you!" 
	Magnus's hackles rose as the identity of the insane woman dawned on him. He narrowed his eyes to get a better look at her. Now he recognized the tall, slender woman who once had shining auburn hair and a complexion like cream. Her green eyes flashed with madness at him. Vigdis!
	Magnus stared at her and then at the queen, his mind roiling with a thousand questions. Flashes of his recurring dream haunted him. "Tell me, tell me what this means!" he demanded.
	"'Twas not Tora who betrayed you, Magnus. Vigdis framed Tora, and then tried to poison her while you were gone. We knew of the poison. We found it when we searched her room after Ellen came to us with her suspicions, but it took days in this rotting hole before Vigdis broke down and confessed to placing Kolbein's brooch in your bed. Tora has been innocent, Magnus, the whole time!"
	Magnus groaned and leaned against the cold damp wall behind him. Tora was innocent, and he had killed an innocent man! He had not believed her, had not wanted to believe her. He suddenly realized that part of him had wanted to hurt her and drive her away so that he wouldn't have to acknowledge how strong his feelings for her had grown. Oh, his dear, sweet Tora, what had he done to her?
	"You've hurt her badly, Magnus, your actions both unfair and rash," stated the queen, as if she had read his mind. "You've dealt her a blow which I doubt anyone could wholly recover from. If you have thoughts about making aright the wrong you have done her, you must go slow and give her good time to heal. She may forgive you; she may not."
	The company left the dungeon, Vigdis's cries following them until they slammed a door behind them. She would be hanged for her offence. 
	Anxious to see Tora, Magnus's first impulse was to seek her out right away, but he would clean up first and make his confession to a priest before doing so. The weight of the souls he had killed in battle pressed not upon him, but that of Kolbein's did. And while he knew the priest would absolve him of his sin, he could only hope that Tora could forgive him, too.

MAGNUS CURSED under his breath and paced in front of the queen. 
	"She will not see you, and under the circumstances, I agree with her."
	Christ's blood! Another woman meddling in his affairs. "I must see her!" he demanded. 
	"You said you would kill her." 
	Magnus bashed his fist against a tabletop. "I didn't mean it! Yes, I meant it, but, by the saints, never in my right mind would I hurt her. Ach, intentionally, that is." Magnus ran his hand through his hair and began pacing again. "She must know that I will make amends..."
	"The first way to show her you mean to make things right is to grant her what she wishes. Leave her in peace, until she calls for you."
	"There may not be time! We sail for Oslo soon. I cannot leave her again without first setting things right!" Turning on his heel, Magnus left the queen, forgetting so much as a by-your-leave, so pre-occupied was he with thoughts of Tora. He made his way to her room in giant strides. He would break the damn door down if he had to. Pounding on the locked door, Magnus called out to her, "Tora! Open the door."
	"Go away." 
	Magnus frowned as he heard her emotionless words. He had never heard her sound so disheartened.
	"Tora," he said, "let me speak with you." There was no reply, but he thought she would have to move closer to the door to hear him. "Open the door; let me in." Silence. Confound her! What was she doing? He banged on the door once more but was greeted by only heavy silence. "I'm going to see you, Tora, if I have to break down this door!" he shouted. 
	"Nothing you can say or do means anything to me anymore. Do what you will, I care naught."
	Magnus shifted uneasily as the chill in her voice struck him. He had expected anger, heated emotion, something he knew how to handle. But the abject apathy in her voice hit him like a battle-axe. Christ's blood, what had he done to her? Magnus leaned his forehead against the door. He recalled their previous conflicts: over their wedding, in their bedchamber, about the stallion at Tønsberg. He would never reach her through the door, he realized. He must touch her, hold her, and provoke her until she raged upon him. Only in this way could he manage to break down the barrier she had built up against him. Feeling confident once more, Magnus left Tora's door to plan his next move.

TORA TRUDGED from the castle and into the surrounding woods. She wore her homespun clothing, no longer caring what anyone might think of her attire. She found comfort in the shapeless kirtle and blouse that she had made herself. 
	She wanted to sink into the earth itself, and the natural dyes in her clothing made her feel closer to doing so. She hoped she might just melt into the forest and never reappear. 
	How could she have known the strong emotions a woman could feel for her unborn child? Even unbeknownst to her as its life had been until that horrible hour, yet sorrow weighed upon her already heavy heart. A child conceived with the man she had loved, the same man who had so thoroughly rejected her. And that was the worst pain of all, the heart-rending realization that there could be no love between them.
	To stay cooped up indoors became unbearable, but she had done that, rather than face Magnus. Easter had been observed and the outdoors sprang alive with warmer temperatures, soft rains and long days full of light. The king and his army had sailed, on their way to Oslo to find Skule, and she assumed Magnus was with them. She no longer need feel like a mouse scurrying about, ever watchful of the cat. A large, prowling, territorial, distrustful cat, she brooded. 
	She sighed. She could not think of Magnus as the predator without also thinking of him as a man, her lover and husband. Tears sprang to her eyes. How could things have gone so terribly wrong? She had grown to care for him so much, but now her love had turned to ashes. Was she never to find happiness? Tora dashed her tears away with an impatient hand and gave herself a mental shake. She would not mope and feel sorry for herself. She had done that long enough. 
	Her brow wrinkled in concentration. She needed to get her affairs in order. She remained under the king's protection, but she had no desire to stay in Bergen any longer. And what would happen to her and her father now that she and Magnus weren't together? Could she ask King Haakon to intervene on her behalf? And the most pressing question to her now, how would she get home?
	"Tora." 
	Tora jumped, a little shriek passing her lips. Magnus! What was he doing here! She'd  been too pre-occupied with her troubles to notice she wasn't alone. 
	"Tora," Magnus repeated, standing without warning before her. Bracing herself to hide the hurt and sense of betrayal that welled up in her, she looked up into his handsome face. His eyes widened with shock and the lines that furrowed beside his mouth deepened. 
	"By all that is holy, what have I done to you?" 
	He reached out a hand to touch her face, but she jerked her head away. Magnus had not seen her since Vigdis had poisoned her. Although she was feeling better, she knew very well that her illness and misery were etched on her face.
	"I don't need your pity!" she cried. "Why haven't you left with the others? I had hoped I would never see you again—that you would die in battle! I want nothing to do with you. Don't you understand? I hate you with all my heart!" Her voice broke, and she averted her face.
	"Tora, look at me." When she kept her head down, he grabbed her chin and forced her. "Look at me, damn it!" 
	Tora looked up and found Magnus's face haggard and his eyes full of pain. She drew up her guard, wary of what game he might now be playing. Magnus shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. His strong arms reached out to hold her, but bringing her knee swiftly up into his groin, she twisted away and continued up the path.
	"Tora, stop! Listen to me!" he wheezed, bent over double.
	Tora picked up her skirts and, like a skittish foal, quickened her pace. Her blood pounded so loudly in her ears that she was sure Magnus must also hear it. She dared not look back. Hysteria rose within her as every sense told her he was right behind her. She broke into a run.
	Pine branches slapped her face as she stumbled over fallen branches and gnarly roots in her path. She gathered up her fettering skirts in a better hold, futilely wishing for the practicality of tunic and hose. She knew not where she ran, only that she had to get away from Magnus. Glancing back over her shoulder to see if he still pursued her, she tripped over deadwood and fell, scraping her hands and knees on the hard ground.
	"You are the most stubborn, untamed woman I have ever laid eyes on!" Magnus boomed behind her. Tora tried to scramble away and cried out as Magnus caught her by her long braid. "Don't move, Tora, not even an inch," he said, darkly emphasizing each word. He grabbed her arm and drew her up to face him. "You've run and hidden from me long enough. We cannot continue this way."
	What did he expect her to do, just forget all that he had done to her and passively do his bidding? She balled her hands and launched herself at him, flaying him with her fists and kicking at his shins. "Untamed am I? You are the brute, I say! You took me to wife and treated me like a thrall with no sense of honor or worth! Have you no idea what you have done?
	"You've killed an innocent man, ruined me, and killed our unborn child! How could you have had so little faith in me? It's your fault, your fault, all of it! How could you have left me here with that evil woman? Why were you not here, to protect me and our unborn babe—the heir you've been so intent upon me bearing you?"
	The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She'd been aware only of a dark rage she believed stemmed purely from his lack of faith in her, but did she blame him for the loss of the baby? 
	She watched as the blood drained from Magnus's face. 
	"You were carrying my child? Christ's blood, what have I done?" He stood there as if paralyzed, not even defending himself against her blows as they rained upon him. 
	"I care no longer about Loren, and my father must take care of himself, for I cannot. I will be away from you!" Her voice wavered and broke as uncontrollable sobs wracked her body. Her fists were clenched, but now they hit Magnus lightly, emphasizing her words. "I-I can st-stand no more, no more..." 
	Magnus wrapped his arms around her then and sank with her to the ground. Tora stopped fighting him and pressed her face against his chest. He smelled of leather and sweat, his own scent that she had so desperately tried to forget these past weeks. She sobbed and sobbed against him, her body shuddering and her mind tormented. 
	"A babe! No one told me..." He held her sobbing body in his arms, one large hand gently stroking her hair. 
	Tora cried till she had no tears left. She hiccupped, exhausted and empty after her explosive outburst. She lay there against him, regathering her strength.
	How had he gained so much power over her? She should have tried harder to protect her heart from him. Was she such a weak woman that even now, after all he had put her through, she loved him? No. What she felt now was not love. As cold and empty as she felt now, she doubted there would ever be room for love in her heart again.	
	She pushed herself away from him and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She could feel his gaze intent upon her and waited to see what he would do next. Silence stretched between them.
	"I've done wrong by you before, Tora, but nothing can compare to this; I see that now," Magnus began. "You must understand..."
	"I understand all right. I understand that as long as you get your way, then the world is bright for you and those around you, but heaven forbid someone not live up to your expectations! You are a heartless blackguard! You think you know everything and trust no one! I want you gone, Magnus, out of my life! I cannot live with a man who does not trust me.
	"You have wronged me," Tora continued, mocking his choice of words, "in the most heinous way. All that is held sacred between man and wife have you made mockery of. You have humiliated me, dishonored me, distrusted me!
	"I want you to free me from the Ting's ruling. I want you to give me back Loren and allow my father to return there. I want you out of my life, do you understand?"
	"I will not let that happen. I will never allow that to happen! Tora, don't you see..." 
	Tora's hand came up and caught him a stinging blow across his cheek. She watched as the imprint of her hand rose red upon his face. Instead of feeling remorse, she only became more incensed, powerful, unstoppable.
	"What are you going to do? Imprison me, beat me? You've already done all that and more! What you say and want means nothing to me, nothing! You owe me, Magnus! You saw to it that my father was ruined, perhaps with reason. I conceived the child you would have, but you were not there to protect it. For what you have done to me—and poor Kolbein! I hope you rot in Hell for it." Her breath was coming in ragged gulps, but still she harangued him.
	"Yes, you are a man and you can do anything you will with me and no one will look twice, but I say you owe me." She realized she was poking Magnus in the chest with her finger and she stopped, panting. With great effort, she steadied her voice, an idea of how to get him to release her suddenly coming to her.
	"Do you remember the day we went hunting? We made a wager then, and I won. Do you deny it?"
	"No." 
	"The babe I lost could very well have been the heir I was to bear you. If that child had been born, I would have secured our lives at Loren and my father's return. Only you were not here to protect our son. 'Tis your fault that this will not come to pass. I have made retribution and I say you must free me from the Ting's ruling!"
	She would use his wretched male honor against him. "Are you, or are you not, a man of your word?" 
	Magnus inhaled sharply and his nostrils flared. "You know it was not this type of wager we were making!" 
	Tora shook her head. "I mean it, Magnus. I will no longer live with you as your wife." She looked dead seriously at him, and waited for his response. 
	He stared at her, opened his mouth as if to speak and then clamped it shut again. Surely he must see that he must let her go. 
	Tora knew she had won as his face softened in resignation. She should have felt triumphant, or at least relieved, but all she felt was a dull pain, as if a hand were inexorably squeezing her heart.
	"All right. I will escort you to Loren where you and your father may live in peace, but the ruling of the Ting shall stand. You are mine until two years are past."	
	Tora drew in a deep breath to protest, but the steely determination in his voice persuaded her to bide her time yet a while longer.	

(bm) Chapter 25

TORA STOOD on board the ship that Magnus commanded, refusing to look back toward Bergen. All that had happened there she would shut out of her memory, like closing one of his books. She had said good-bye to her few friends and to Queen Margrete. She'd been touched by the woman's kindness.
	"I am glad Magnus and you have reconciled, Tora, but I do not understand why both of you seem so sad. Magnus paces about the castle like an unhappy hound awaiting his master's return, and while I can see you have regained your health, yet you seem like but a shell of your former self. What is the matter, Tora?"
	Her wounds were too fresh and too deep to put words to, even for the queen, so she brushed the question aside. "I will miss you very much, Queen Margrete. I will remember all your wise words and kindness to me. Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I would beg your pardon and take my leave now."
	The queen looked into her eyes then and Tora knew she could hide nothing from her. "Sweet child, you may take your leave, but I would first give you this advice. All people have weaknesses, Tora; look instead for their strengths and their goodness. Both you and Magnus have too much stubborn pride for your own good, and you are destroying each other. I have said the same to him as I have said to you. Go in peace, Tora, and may you and Magnus find peace with each other at last."
	Tora's heart welled up with bitterness as she remembered these words. She and Magnus would indeed find peace—when they were separated and out of each other's life forever. She swallowed a lump that rose in her throat. That was what she wanted, wasn't it? It was her decision to have it so. So why did she feel so awful? 

ON THEIR SECOND day out to sea, the sky turned black and the wind blew with such force that the main sail had to be furled. The sea swelled and heaved, and the men frantically tied everything down as cold rain lashed their faces. It became impossible to keep the other vessels in sight. Tora and Anna sat huddled against the mast, a rope about their waists to keep them from washing overboard as waves crashed over the deck. Neither woman could swim. They clung to each other, wet through and chilled to the very core. 
	The men took up the oars, straining to guide the ship to meet the waves head on. Tora watched their broad backs lean forward and then heave back as one man in the bow kept time on a drum. Magnus rowed with them, his shirt plastered to his back, his muscles bunched and straining as his men's were. Occasionally, he shouted encouragement to them. Tora took comfort from his presence, praying that his strength and courage would be enough to pull them through. 
	She froze, and the fear of drowning in the merciless cold depths beneath gripped her, but the constant roar of the wind and waves gradually dulled her mind. The dunk-dunk of the drum and the rhythmic movement of the men's upper bodies became dream-like and surrealistic as she fell into a stupor. 
	Only many hours later did she regain consciousness. The storm had abated, and the sky had cleared. Late evening, the western horizon provided dusky light to see by. 
	Tora called weakly to Anna who lay pale beside her. Anna stirred, to Tora's great relief. With fingers like blocks of wood, Tora tried to untie the rope about them, but to no avail. Shivering uncontrollably, she wept in frustration. 	
	The men had left their oars now and Magnus shouted orders to them. Henrik came and loosened the rope about the two women. Tora nodded numbly at him when he asked if she were all right. He patted Anna's face to rouse her and drew her into his arms. 
	Tora crawled across the wet deck, her heavy skirts impeding her, drew herself wearily up to the side and wretched. Her stomach heaved until her abdomen was sore. She knelt there, too tired to move and unable to stop trembling.
	Strong hands scooped her up and lifted her. She knew without looking that it was Magnus, and she clung to him as if he were her lifeline. He carried her to the stern and settled her on a relatively dry fur. 
	"I'll find us something to eat," he said.
	Tora clutched at him.
	"No! Magnus, please...do not...leave me," she cried, her teeth chattering. 
	"I won't be long," he said.
	"No! Stay with me. Magnus, hold me; I just want you to hold me." Her voice cracked and she stared up at him, frozen with fear. She would never feel warm again. She could feel the hysteria welling up in her, now that the shock of the storm wore off. He mustn't leave her!
	"Shh, Tora, it's all right." Magnus sat down beside her, gathered her up onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. He chafed her hands to warm them. "It's all right. The storm is gone, and we have survived." He wrapped his cloak around both of them. 
	Tora clung to him. The trembling wouldn't stop and she pressed herself against his warmth. Her cool lips rested where his strong pulse throbbed in his warm throat and she wrapped her arms about him. They sat thus for a long time, Magnus stroking and soothing her until the trembling came only now and again. 
	She recognized the moment his caresses turned sensual. 
	His stroking became slower, longer and gradually moved from her back to brush against her breasts before gliding over her belly. His hand left a trail of pleasurable heat and she did not stir or stop him. She suddenly needed very much to have him take her, to fill her with his warmth and strength, to banish her fears and prove to her that she was very much alive.	
	Her urgency was easily communicated to Magnus and his body responded immediately. He wasted no time; it seemed he too felt the need for them to come together and celebrate life. Their mating was as urgent and primitive as the storm and soon they lay spent in each other's arms. Magnus gathered her up once more against him and wrapped his cloak about them both. Exhausted, the two of them fell asleep in each other's arms.

TORA AWOKE THE next day beside Anna. She lay there wondering what was so strange. Suddenly it dawned on her; they were still at sea, but not moving. Tora stood up, stretched aching muscles and looked about her. The king's ships were everywhere, their high masts standing like a forest before her. A boat rowed toward them, and she squinted against the bright glare of the sun on the water to see who occupied it. Magnus. He and another rowed and the muscles of his bare arms rippled with each stroke of the oars. 
	Tora sighed as the image brought memories of her hands roaming across those muscles, feeling the strength of them about her as Magnus had made love to her last night. She shook her head. No sense in dwelling on such foolishness; she planned to leave him. As the men came aboard, she made her way over to hear what news they brought.
	"...storm. The rudder broke apart on the king's ship and they had to use both oars and gangplanks to steer themselves. Repairs have been made and we're ready to set sail for Viken."
	Tora took a deep breath. Soon they would arrive in Oslo, having completed one major leg of her journey home. How good it would be to be to see Loren again, to put all her sorrows behind her! Only one thing troubled her; somewhere between here and Loren lurked Skule and his army, determined to battle Haakon and his men for the whole Kingdom.
	They sailed into Oslo fjord, to await Jarl Knut and his men before continuing their journey. The wind died down, and dusk fell, so the men rowed to Nesodden, just outside Oslo. Word about Skule varied: some said he had ridden from Oslo, while others said the Vårbelgs were certain to be in the city.
	The king gathered his leaders to explain his battle plans. They sat in a small clearing within the trees, a small fire throwing its weak light upon their faces. Tora followed Magnus and sat behind him. She would not have him notice her and send her away. Her future would be even more uncertain if Skule should defeat Haakon's army, and she would know what they planned. Skule would likely divide landholdings among his loyal warchiefs, and Loren, as one of Jarl Magnus's holdings, would surely be among them. Magnus glanced back at her and motioned her to come sit beside him. She hesitated, but then did so.
	The men's faces were grim and forbidding in the shadows and flickering light cast upon them. Determination etched every one of them and, in their mail, heavy with weapons, they were a frightening sight. Tora moved closer to Magnus, though she smiled to herself at her action. He was just as formidable, if not more so. She turned her attentions to Haakon, who had begun to tell them of his plans.
	"'Tis well known what has happened previously between Skule and myself. It is as always when two disagree—there is fault on both sides. After all that has happened between us, he has allowed himself to be called King of Norway without having formally declared his intentions.
	"Since then, he has sent his men in all directions, and has killed men who had sworn faithfulness and had fought for us both. He has used treachery against those that would serve him, as well as those who had taken no sides and who had no idea what he had in store for them. The churches provided Skule's enemies no more sanctuary than barns."
	Haakon looked out over the fjord toward Oslo. "We have lost many good men, and their friends think, rightly so, that they deserve to be avenged." He turned and faced them. "All of you here must remember your allegiance to me, and demonstrate courage; remember what you have lost in both friends and property and how much damage the Vårbelgs have done us. We believe that this day the Almighty will let us take a final stand against the Vårbelgs. Show both by your words and actions that you understand what you have to avenge and how unjustly we have been treated, that we shall protect our freedom and property.
	"Remember too, that while Skule has good men with him, we are the best—the best in the land. So much greater then would be our dishonor if our enemy should beat us and drive us back, for we should reign supreme over them in all matters."
	Tora's heart swelled with pride as she heard the king's words. Would that she were a man and could fight at his side! Maybe there was a way, after all, she thought, a gleam of an idea coming to her. She turned her attentions back to the king, who had begun to discuss strategy.
	"Jarl Knut, Simon Ku and Eirik Stilk will row to the Oslo quay from the west and attack the Vårbelgs there. Your actions will draw attention away from myself and the main part of the army which will land under Ekeberg Ridge and march to Oslo from the southeast."
	Magnus would follow the king, Tora decided. His party would set out under the cloak of night to have time to make their way across Ekeberg to attack Oslo.
	"No ship shall leave Hovedøya until all are ready to do so. And you shall hold your positions until you see that my army is well on its way down the ridge to Oslo."
	The king took Haakon the Younger aside and spoke with him privately. He then went back to his men and said, "Haakon shall stay behind with two ships and protection. They shall sail west of Hovedøya and hide there. Keep watch from the highest point of Hovedøya. And if it be God's will that we lose, don't stay there. Row out into the fjord. Don't stop until you come to Bergen, no matter what!"
	"Tora," Magnus said, "I want you to stay with Haakon the Younger's party. You'll be safe with them. If things go badly, the queen will protect you from Skule and find a good life for you." 
	Tora looked up at him with startled eyes. He meant that if he were killed, the queen would find her a new husband and protector. Although she had told him she wished him dead, she had not considered that he could actually be killed. He had always seemed so indestructible, so strong and sure of himself that he would be invincible. She impulsively put her hand upon his chest, but then withdrew it. Even at this moment, she couldn't tell him how much he meant—had meant, she corrected herself—to her.
	"Tora," Magnus began. His eyes pleaded for her to change her mind and stay with him. He was too proud to say the words.
	"Don't fret over me, Magnus; I'll take care of myself. And last night changed nothing, as far as I'm concerned." She stood up and left him then, moving toward Haakon the Younger as if to remain with his party.
	In reality, she had no intention of staying behind and waiting for the outcome of this battle. There was too much at stake. She would disguise herself as a man and sneak upon one of Jarl Knut's boats. No one there would recognize her, if she kept out of the way. 

TORA WAITED impatiently for the king and his army to begin to depart for Ekeberg. "Quick, Anna, help me out of my dress!"
	"Whatever for, what are you going to do?" Anna blustered, helping her impatient friend tug off her garments. Tora reached into her chest and drew out her male attire, bow and quiver of arrows.
	"I mean to be at that battle and do what I can to make sure Haakon wins!"
	"Are you gone from your wits? You could be killed!"
	"If it be God's will." Tora shrugged her tunic over her head. "Help me with my hair, time is short!" Tora only half listened as Anna harangued her about the idiocy of her actions. "Ow!" shouted Tora, glaring at Anna. "You pulled my hair deliberately!"
	"Yes, I did. You are an obstinate idiot." Anna continued to pull Tora's hair harder than necessary as she gathered it up on her head. "Going to battle. Lunacy, complete lunacy. Don't you think you can go off and get yourself killed!" 
	Tora turned and hugged Anna hard. "I won't. I will be all right, you'll see." She rummaged in the bottom of her chest and found a dagger she had hidden there. She put it in her belt. She gathered up her weapons and hugged Anna one more time. "Good-bye, my friend. I will see you soon, I promise!" With those words, Tora left Anna, and melted into the forest.
	She made her way stealthily down to the shore. The dark of night cloaked her from any eyes that would stare, so she felt quite safe in sauntering out among the men. She watched as Haakon and the majority of his army boarded their vessels. She caught her breath as she saw the towering form of a great man go aboard and begin to give commands. Magnus. As most were watching the king and his men set sail, Tora used the opportunity to sneak aboard one of Jarl Knut's ships. 
	Once aboard, she searched for a hiding place. The trapdoors to the storage area below deck wouldn't budge, even if she pulled with all her weight. Her eyes scoured the deck, settling on a row of chests. She checked each one to find a hiding place. 
	She muffled a squeal of delight as she found both a scull cap and a thickly padded tabard. The scull cap would provide a little protection from blows to the head, but mainly it would hide her hair. The tabard was quilted and warm, split on the sides from the armpits down. On a man, its sleeves and shoulders would have been tight fitting, but it hung loosely upon her slender frame. In it, she would appear a little bigger and less feminine. Curling up in a nearly empty chest, Tora forced herself to relax and wait.

(bm) Chapter 26

"AT LAST THE king shall have his day," Aksel said to Magnus, staring out over Oslo from the top of Ekeberg. "I am eager to slaughter wretched Vårbelgs this day!"
	"When Skule is no more, Norway will be at peace at last," Magnus replied. "Look! Jarl Knut readies his vessels." Far out in the fjord, they could just see movement around Jarl Knut's fleet of ships at Hovedøy. 
	Haakon gave the signal and the army advanced down on Oslo. The thawed earth was so wet and soft that the Birkebeiners sank ankle deep in mire.

TORA ROUSED from an uneasy doze in her cramped quarters to the sound of tromping feet, the clink of weapons and deep voices. Through the lock in the chest she could see daylight. Passing men blocked her view at times. Fear raced through her veins as she waited to see if they would discover her. She wondered if she shouldn't have snuck on board with them, pretending to be one of them. No telling what the men might do if she were discovered hiding. Everything quieted as they found their places at the oars and rowed. Now only the rhythmic slap of the oars as they struck the water could be heard.
	Tora had the impression that they were traveling at great speed, and she knew they would soon arrive at the quay. She moved, easing her aching muscles. Sharp needles of pain shot through her legs as the blood began to flow again. She bit her lip to keep from crying out and massaged them as best she could. What if she could not stand or run when she needed to?
	Tora held her breath. The oars were quiet. She imagined them coasting into shore, the men readying themselves to leap from the ships and create the diversion necessary for Haakon and the main army to march into Oslo without detection. The city was quiet. Their arrival was unannounced.
	As a great clamor arose and the ship rocked from the men's abrupt movements, Tora dared to peak out of the chest. It was now or never, she decided. In the commotion, her presence would not be noticed. She rolled out of the chest, landing on the deck with a dull thud. She had meant to leap to her feet and make a dash for the side, but her legs responded like they were stuffed with wool, and she found to her dismay that they wouldn't hold her. Soon the men would be gone, and she would remain, exposed and alone. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to move, the heat of the blood running down to her feet sending sharp tingles through her legs. She stomped her feet hard and hurried to catch up with the others. 
	Her heart leapt in her throat as she saw the distance from the deck to the shore. All about her, men were jumping, the distance nothing to their long, muscular legs. Tora sent a prayer heavenward grabbed the rail and jumped. She landed hard in the knee-deep water. Paying no attention to her new aches, she raced after the warriors. Their war cries filled the air as they sought to draw out the Vårbelgs in battle.

SCOUTS RELAYED TO the king that the main bridge to Oslo was gone, and the army had to change direction and cross another bridge, instead. A small party of Vårbelgs were dismantling it, too, but ran when Haakon's army arrived. Two beams remained and upon these the whole army crossed. Once on the other side, they stood between Østre Street and Nikolas church. As Haakon's party advanced down the street, an old man ran out from his house, dressed only in clogs and a robe.
	"God bless you, King Haakon! You travel a dangerous road with so few men. The Vårbelgs are camped above you and have overrun the whole county. They are determined to defeat you. If only it were God's will that I was as strong as I was when I fought with you at Vermland!"
	"Thanks for your goodwill, friend. But go in again. My people are coming soon from all directions." And, indeed, they had not proceeded very far before Haakon's son Sigurd and his men met up with them. He had traveled night and day to aid his father.
	They met up with the Vårbelgs soon after that. As Haakon advanced, the Vårbelgs retreated, but once up in the churchyard, they bombarded the Birkebeiners with heavy stones. Sword and stone struck flesh and blood.

TORA FOLLOWED the Birkebeiners through the narrow streets of Oslo. She heard shouts of warning as their party came upon Skule and his Vårbelgs. Cries of fury and pain filled the air as weapons clashed and thrown stones found their mark. Right in front of her a man fell, his chest pierced by a javelin. Tora clamped her hand to her mouth, sealing in the scream that threatened to escape. 
	The man's assailant stood before her, his sword drawn and ready to strike. 
	Tora turned and fled. She dodged past struggling men, jumped over bloodied corpses strewn in the street and ran between buildings, glancing back to make sure no one followed her. 
	She slowed to a walk and then stopped to lean against a wall to catch her breath. She shook her head to clear it of the images of carnage she had just witnessed and concentrated on calming her racing heart.
	No good to panic, she reminded herself. Separated now from Jarl Knut and his army, she must keep her wits about her to stay alive. She would seek Haakon's banner. She was sure to find Magnus and the brunt of the fighting there. She drew herself up straight and pushed her fears aside. Calm now, she reached in her quiver and pulled out an arrow, readying it in her bow should she have sudden need of it. 
	Turning into a hunter, Tora began moving, keeping to the side streets and checking for movement as she worked her way through the city. She neared the Church of St. Olav and Korsbrødre place, the roar of battle growing ever stronger. The grunts of hand-to-hand combat, the clash of steel and the moans of dying men became distinguishable as she rounded a corner.
	The sight that met her eyes made her duck back and take a deep breath before she looked again. Men battled everywhere. Their swords flashed golden in the sunlight, battle-axes and clubs delivered crippling blows. The ground had turned slick with blood and men stumbled over the bodies of the fallen. 
	Tora inhaled sharply. Magnus stood not seventy-five feet from her, fighting the enemy. His muscular legs were braced far apart as he and his opponent clashed with their great swords. Magnus's mail and leather jerkin were covered with blood. Whether it was his own, or another's, Tora did not know. A fierce and unexpected sense of pride overcame her as she watched his agile, confident moves with the sword. Here was the man who so many worshiped and admired. Then her mouth went dry and her heart skipped a beat.
	
MAGNUS GLEAMED with sweat and the blood of others, but he kept his head cool. He had felled many men already, but he was not tired. This man before him was good with his sword, but Magnus had every confidence he would beat him. Just one mistake on his opponent's part, and he would slice his neck or pierce his heart.
	Suddenly, a numbing pain shot through his arm. He looked down in astonishment to see his sword clatter to the ground at his feet, a great stone beside it. He bent to pick his sword up, and cursed when his now useless right hand wouldn't curve around the hilt. Grabbing his sword with his left hand, he straightened to meet his opponent. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his enemy coming at him, his sword already raised to deal him a murderous blow. Defense was impossible.
	But the deadly blow was never struck. 
	Magnus stared unbelievingly as his opponent fell before him, an arrow through his heart. He shook his head in disbelief. The arrow's feathers were the black, blue and white of the magpie.
	"Tora!" His heart beat frantically as he considered the danger she was in. His eyes searched the area around him. He noted that the Birkebeiners were steadily pressing back the Vårbelgs. Indeed, most of the enemy were either dead or had already sought refuge within the walls of the churches. 
	Where was she? He scanned the area once more, this time catching a glimpse of a slight form as it disappeared around the corner of a building. He raced after her, his thoughts in turmoil. He didn't know whether he should be grateful that she had saved him or strangle her for her idiocy. Christ's blood! Would she never do as she was told?
	Two Vårbelgs who would try his strength hampered his progress. Magnus was in no mood for fighting any more, every nerve centered on reaching Tora. In short order he cut deeply into the shoulder of one man and decapitated the other. He didn't even glance at them as he jumped over their bodies and raced after Tora. He rounded the corner she had disappeared around and scanned the area, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. She was nowhere to be seen.
	Damn! He ran forward, stopping to look in doorways, between buildings and down the narrow side streets. There was no sign of her. He raced back to find Aksel and his men. They must find her before she came to harm. 
	Aksel greeted him, his face grimy. An ugly gash bloodied his brow. "Skule is fleeing Oslo!" he shouted. "I thought you might want to lay chase, so I've gathered your men."
	"Tora is missing. She's here in the city, dressed as a man. We've got to find her!"
	Aksel stared at him, not comprehending. "Here? Dressed as a man?"
	"Yes," shouted Magnus. He gave his men instructions, describing Tora's attire for them. "Let's go!" 
	Getting rid of anyone that would stop them, Magnus and his men searched the streets, half his men making their way back to the docks, Magnus and the others heading north.
	"There she is!" one man shouted, pointing up the road. There was no mistaking her. She struggled with two men, her blond hair loose now and flying about her head. 
	"Vårbelgs," Magnus muttered to himself and ran toward them. He watched in horror, fear building within him, as one of the men brought up a club and hit her across the temple. Tora slumped and did not move again. One of the assailants threw her over his shoulder. His companion brought up a couple of horses. They mounted, Tora now slung over the whithers in front of one of them, and they galloped away from the city. 
	Magnus raged after them, his sword raised above his head. His men thundered behind him, but they were too late. By the time they reached the spot where Tora had been attacked, the horses were well out of sight.
	"Aksel, take ten men and fetch mounts. As many as you can, but be quick about it! The rest of you return to the king. When the city is secured, follow us. The Vårbelgs who have captured Tora will flee to the north, following Skule, no doubt."
	Magnus set off up the road, jogging in his heavy mail and armor. Dread filled him stronger now than when he had discovered Tora in the middle of the fray. She would certainly be raped and then perhaps even killed. He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat and forced himself to think rationally. He must keep his wits about him or Tora would die.
	Aksel and the others caught up with him, all on horseback. "There were few mounts to be found. I think Skule took as many as he could!" 
	Magnus didn't waste time acknowledging Aksel, and grabbing the reins of a bay gelding from him, flung himself on the back of the beast and spurred him into a gallop. Magnus's men followed suit, not wanting to see their brave leader's woman suffer at the hands of his enemies.

(bm) Chapter 27

DEAR LORD, they'd killed her and she'd gone to Hell. That was the only explanation she could find for the wrenching bolts of pain that flashed red as blood behind her eyes. Everyone had warned her, and at last she had received her punishment.
	She'd often imagined Hell, flames licking away at sinful flesh, the smell of brimstone and the reverberating screams of the lost souls that were banished there. But this jostling up and down like a constant punch in her stomach was a surprise. 
	She opened her eyes a slit and the daylight seared like fire—enough to make her realize she still lived. Her relief was short-lived as she remembered the two men who had attacked her. She groaned and tried to move, but blinding pain exploded in her skull. A swat to her backside made her jerk her eyes open wide. 
	"Lie still, woman, or I'll give you a blow that will keep you out for days." 
	Tora did not intend to be hit again, but could not contain another moan as the jogging of the horse slugged hard against her stomach. The ground rushed by in a dizzying blur and she squeezed her eyes shut again as a wave of nausea washed over her.
	"I'm going to be sick," she moaned.
	"Puke on my boot, and I'll beat you black and blue."
	"Aw, Åsvard, let the girl rest. She'll do us no good if she's sick. The sooner she can sit a horse, the better. We've got to move faster to meet up with Skule," said the other.
	Åsvard reined in, muttering under his breath. Dismounting, he took Tora by the waist and drew her roughly off the horse. She did not fight him, too sick to even care what went on about her. He carried her off the road and into the tender spring grass, where he dumped her on the damp ground.
	She cried out as more red bolts shot through her head. She prayed for unconsciousness, but it evaded her. She closed her eyes to the whirling blue and white sky and lay still, waiting as her pain gradually diminished. Her nausea lessened, and she could concentrate on her captors.
	"What are we going to do with her?" Tora glanced at the other man who spoke, deciding to call him No Nose as his face showed only an ugly gaping hole where his nose should have been.
	"She'll cook—and spread her legs for us. We'll share her; you can have her one night and me the next. Maybe she'll service both of us at once." He laughed. 
	Tora shivered in revulsion. Tears stung her eyelids as she considered how stupid she had been. She had foolishly fled Magnus and had forgotten to be cautious in her hurry to reach the ships before he saw her. She had practically run into the arms of Åsvard and No Nose. A short struggle with them had loosed her hair and her guise as a young man had been destroyed. And now she wallowed in more danger than ever before.
	Magnus, please help me! Despair swept over her. He thought she was safely tucked away on the island with Haakon the Younger. He would never know that she had saved his life, nor that in that split second before letting her arrow fly, doubts as to whether to save him or not had flown through her mind.
	With Magnus dead, Loren and Ringebu would fall to her—or perhaps to Nikolas. Even if Nikolas had become the new lord, she was sure he would allow both she and her father to abide peacefully at Loren. 
	But in that same split second she realized she loved Magnus with all her heart. Overwhelming feelings for him rushed through her. Only feelings of love could be so strong and sure, of that she was certain. She could no more idly stand by and watch him be killed than she could make night day. 
	Rough voices broke into her reverie, and hopelessness sapped her of her last bit of strength as the weight of her predicament sank in. She would never see him again! He would never know she loved him! These Vårbelgs would use her until they tired of her, and then kill her, she was sure of that—or give her to their cutthroat friends to rape. I will kill myself before that happens, she swore to herself.
	She must have fallen unconscious again, for she awoke to sounds of a struggle. She rolled over toward the sounds, her eyes widening in welcome surprise. Two men, Birkebeiners, she guessed, were fighting Åsvard and No Nose. Her hopes soared. They would return her to Magnus unharmed. She wanted to cry out in support, but feared drawing their attention away from the fight.
	Then to her dismay, she saw one of them fall, Åsvard having dealt him a cutting blow to his neck. The remaining Birkebeiner soon lay by his companion's side, the two Vårbelgs cutting him down, his life sapped from him. Tora moaned and drew her legs up to her chest. She silently rocked herself. Her hope of rescue disappeared as raindrops into parched earth.
	"Hey, what are you doing?" No Nose's voice cried out, startling Tora.
	"I want his clothes." 
	Tora opened her eyes and looked to see what the commotion was. Åsvard leaned over one of the dead Birkebeiner and loosened his tunic.
	"Be careful, he's not dead!" called No Nose. Before Åsvard could move, No Nose raised his axe and brought it down in one fell swoop. He had intended to cut the Birkebeiner's throat, but his aim was off and the blade caught Åsvard above the wrist, nearly severing off his hand.
	Åsvard screamed, grabbing his hand. Blood flowed between his fingers as water from a pitcher. His eyes widened with shock, his face turned chalk white. He screamed again, this time using the most vile, blasphemous oaths Tora had ever heard. No Nose stared at Åsvard, swallowed hard, and then turned and fled, jumping on his horse and galloping off, leaving Tora and the mortally injured man behind.
	Tora held her breath. She didn't want Åsvard to turn his attention to her. In his rage, he might decide to kill her. To her relief, he ran after No Nose and after a minute all grew quiet. Tora lay there, not budging. Fear gripped her. Had Åsvard fallen and lay dying, or would he come back and find her? 
	When she heard the pounding of horse's hooves, her fear overcame her weakness. She managed to get up on her knees and then pulled herself to her feet, clinging to a tree branch to keep from falling. She lurched away from the tree and staggered away from the hoofbeats that were rapidly approaching. She dared not look back, terrified she would see Åsvard or No Nose coming after her. 
	A horse came pounding by her, its rider reaching down and grabbing her by the waist. She screamed as his mail covered arm pulled her up off the ground and swung her in front of him. She fought with what little strength she had to escape. 
	"Tora! Tora, 'tis I, Magnus!" Tora continued to struggle, her breath coming in ragged bursts until her captor's words finally registered in her unsettled mind. Magnus! Suddenly, the adrenaline, which had supported her desperate struggle, vanished and she collapsed in his arms. He reined in his horse and dismounted, pulled her down into his arms and carried her to a nearby stream.
	"Are you all right? Thank God I found you." Gentle, firm hands roamed her body, checking for injuries. "No broken bones, at least," she heard him say, sounding relieved. A cool wet cloth pressed upon her forehead and cheeks. Tora opened her eyes to find Magnus staring at her, deep lines of concern etching his strong face. 
	She trembled. He drew her up into his lap and wrapped her in his strong embrace. She turned her head into his chest.
	"I was so afraid, so afraid. I thought I would never see you again. I wanted to tell you, and then I thought I might not ever get the chance. I must tell you that—"
	"Hush, Tora. It's all right—I'm here. Close your eyes now and let me take care of you. No harm shall come to you now." 
	Tora relaxed as one big callused hand stroked her hair. It was so good to be safe within his arms. At his gentle insistence, she quieted. There would be plenty of time later to tell him she loved him. A hazy curtain of blackness descended over her and she did not fight it, sure that Magnus spoke true.

AS THEY RODE, Magnus gazed down at Tora, who slept propped up against his chest, his arm protectively holding her in place. He wasn't worried about the Vårbelgs. Haakon had crushed them in Oslo. And it was only a matter of time before they hunted down Skule and the remaining traitors and did away with them. His concern was for Tora and how he might convince her to remain with him. The queen had told him to go slowly with her. He must be careful not to hurt her again or chase her away.
	All his life he had fought for what he believed in, and had taken what he wanted, without regard for others. He had gotten Tora that way. He sighed, a wave of remorse washing over him. She was like an eagle, free-spirited and fierce. Captured by him, she was fettered and caged, unable to soar as she was meant to. 
	And the truth of it was he had to let her go. The babe she had borne and lost could well have been a boy, and if he hadn't acted like such a jealous, stupid ass and had just listened to her and trusted her, she may have given him the heir he demanded from her, fulfilling her end of their bargain. He would not accept anyone's argument that he could not have prevented Vigdis's treachery; as her husband he should have been at her side and protected her.
	A dull ache built within him as he reached an unwanted conclusion. He must not try to convince her to stay with him. He must let her and her father go, free her completely from his hold over her and let her soar. He rested his cheek against her soft blond hair. His life would be so empty without her.

THEY TRAVELED through majestic mountain ranges, their steep evergreen sides shimmering with cascading waterfalls formed by the melting snow at their tops. The valleys were narrow and winding, most often with roaring rivers running through them. There was no way to ford the rivers' spring deluge; they must cross at bridges—but so must also Skule.
	"There must be a hundred men with him," Magnus stated as he and his men regarded a wide swath of beaten-down grass. They were riding hard to keep on Skule's heels. He had fled from Oslo to Eidsvoll, through Minne and north through Hedmark. Magnus stared ahead, squinting into the distance. "He's going to pass by Ringebu! He'll not have time to do much damage, I wager," he added, as if to himself.
	"He's a fool to travel through country so thick with Birkebeiner men. He'll be lucky to reach Trondheim alive," Aksel added.
	"So much the better for us. Let's be off." Magnus swung up into his saddle. He looked over to Tora, who now rode Åsvard's mount.
	"All right?"
	She nodded in answer, giving him a tentative smile. He smiled back to her and turned to lead them north. His smile reminded her of early this morning when he had asked her if she were well enough to ride. She would have preferred to remain in his arms, but she knew it slowed their progress. Magnus had given her a hand up into the saddle, and had stood gazing up at her. 
	His eyes had been dark blue this morning, a warmth and softness within them that was hard for her to fathom. He had seemed so sad, even though he'd smiled at her. She had impulsively reached out and stroked his cheek. They hadn't had a moment of privacy, and neither had spoken their thoughts. He had grabbed her hand and given her palm a quick kiss before stepping back. She had stared at his broad back as he moved to his horse, wondering at his actions.
	They reached Ringebu as the evening hours approached. An eery silence enveloped them, and they slowed their horses and walked them into the courtyard. Where were the guards? As they formed a circle and uneasily watched the buildings for any sign of danger, the door to the manor opened.
	"Thanks be to God, you've returned!" Ingeborg ran from the house to drop a quick curtsy to Magnus before moving on to wait as Aksel dismounted. She gave him a fierce hug just as soon as both his feet touched the ground.
	"All right, woman, give me room to breathe," he growled affectionately at her, sheepishly eyeing the company, which smiled at his predicament.
	Others filed from the various buildings about the farm. Tora gazed from one face to another, and let out a sigh of relief. At first sight, though she noted the absence of a few men, all the women and children appeared to be present and unharmed. 
	The party went into the Hall and as they waited for food and drink, they were told the news of Skule's short stay at Ringebu. Tora was relieved to hear he hadn't had time to cause any great damage to the place, but her hand clutched at her bosom as they learned Skule had slaughtered dozen's of Magnus's soldiers. The others had been locked up.
	"They were outnumbered, but fought to the end. We feared for our lives, also, but Skule locked most of us away, keeping only a handful close by to attend him and his men," the miller said.
	Magnus rubbed his temples and closed his eyes.
	"There is more, my lord," the miller added.
	"Tell me."
	"'Tis Maalfrid, my lord. She's...she's dead—murdered by that thieving traitor. She'd been told to serve him, you see. And just as Skule turned his attentions to his meal, she whipped out a dagger from her pocket and tried to stab him. She caught him but a glancing blow. His wrath was terrible to see. He..." The miller couldn't go on.
	"He had two of his guards hold her, and a third slit her throat," young Ragnar finished, "right there where you sit!"
	The blood drained from Tora's face to match the pallor in young Ragnar's. Her hand clutched her throat and she turned horrified eyes to Magnus.
	"Oh, Magnus, I'm so sorry," she whispered. She remembered the hateful way Maalfrid had treated her, but even so, felt remorse at her death. The woman had been a loyal servant to Magnus and his family all of her life, and she knew he had been fond of her. She admired the courage Maalfrid had shown in defending her homeland, and forgave her for her coldness toward herself. 
	Magnus abruptly stood up. "Ready fresh animals, and pack us food for our journey. It is truly to Trondheim Skule flees. I will be on his heels until he finds his place in Hell. We ride immediately. Aksel, gather an escort to take Tora to Loren. Tora, come with me." 
	Tora followed at Magnus's heels as he led her out of the Hall and into the manor to his chamber. What did he mean, an escort to Loren? He turned to face her, his eyes meeting hers. Tora caught her breath as she saw the determination in his eyes.
	"What happens now?" she managed to ask after clearing a lump that had formed in her throat. 
	Magnus, pale beneath his tan, hesitated. "After Skule's demise, I shall travel to Eidsvoll, to the Ting, where I shall free you and your father from your debt to me. I shall request that Loren be placed in your father's hands once again, and that our marriage be dissolved."
	Tora turned away. She would not let him see the incredible hurt his words had caused. Her heart felt constricted and she feared she would be sick. She drew a shaky breath and tried to accept what he said. 
	So she was to have her way, in the end. Somehow she had hoped that he would deny her demand for freedom. In her mind, she willed him to take back his words, but she was met only with silence. Part of her wanted to throw herself at his feet and beg him to keep her by his side. But that would only embarrass them both. He had accused her of being dishonorable, in the past. She would prove him wrong now, in the most difficult moment of her life.
	"Very well," she said, keeping her voice from shaking. "I shall return to Loren as soon as possible. There is no further need for us to be together, is there." Without waiting for an answer, she marched past him, her chin in the air, her eyes focused straight in front of her. She prayed with every step that he would stop her, that he would call her back and tell her they'd made a big mistake. The door closed behind her with a final heavy thud. Tora ran.
	Magnus sat in his chamber, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. He had granted Tora her freedom and she had run as fast as she could from him. He should have been prepared for that. What could he expect after the ill manner in which he had treated her for so long? He regretted sorely all the pain he had caused her. The only way, he decided, to make retribution to her was to have the Ting's ruling reversed and turn time back for her, her father, and Loren. He would give back to them the peace, honor and safety which he had stolen from them. He would intrude upon their lives never again.
	This decision brought him little peace of mind. He didn't want to live without Tora. No woman could ever make him feel as she did, of that he was certain. Never had a woman made him feel so alive, so happy—so miserable. A smile touched his lips as he thought of her blazing eyes, her passion, her softness. She was so gentle, so caring, and he loved her for it. Yes, loved her. That realization had come, but too late, far too late.
	Magnus stood up and made his way to his men, thinking about Tora. He fought back the impulse to take back what he had said and force her to stay with him. But she had made her intentions very clear, and he must keep his word. And the sooner they were separated, the sooner he could begin to forget her and make the aching in his heart go away. He ordered his men to make ready to give chase after Skule and sent word to Tora that, early the next day, she would be escorted to Loren. He found he could not say good-bye to her.

AS HER SMALL party rode into the yard at Loren, Tora was struck by how diminished it now appeared. The buildings were in good repair, as was the Hall, but everything had shrunk and dwindled in impressiveness. Edda spotted her first and rushed to her, gathering her up against her ample bosom and hugging her hard.
	"Saints be praised! But what are you doing here, and where is his lordship?" she asked.
	"He has released me and Father from our debt to him. I have come home." She said no more, for her chin began to quiver.
	"Oh, my girl, how happy we are to have you back among us." Edda hugged Tora again and led her into the Hall. Tora explained that she had left Anna in Oslo and that she was sure she was safe with Haakon the Younger. 
	People filtered in one by one to greet her, first those from nearby and later, those from further away. When Edda learned that Oddvar would also be returning and Loren was saved, she called for the strong ale to be tapped, and sent maids scurrying in all directions to bring forth the best food to be served. The atmosphere was one of great celebration. 
	Tora wanted nothing more than to be alone, but forced herself to act cheerfully and happy to be back. Inside, she felt crushed and defeated, her heart ever aching. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined her homecoming would be filled with such despondency. 
	After assuaging everyone's curiosity and beginning to feel like her face would crack open from her stiff smile, Tora sought to find a way to excuse herself and retire. She stood up from her bench to leave just when Arne Finnsson appeared. He turned and held the door for a young woman who smiled her thanks to him. 
	Tora stared. Arne had matured this past year, losing the last remnants of boyhood. She smiled genuinely at him, catching the eye of her handsome first love. Arne smiled back and, taking the hand of the young woman beside him, made his way across the room to her.
	Tora clasped Arne's hand and brought her cheek up against his. "How good it is to see you, Arne," she said.
	"And you, Tora," he replied. 
	Tora's smile wavered. He sounded so formal. She glanced curiously at the young woman and watched as she took Arne's arm. 
	Arne looked down at her and smiled. "May I have the honor of introducing you, Tora of Loren, to my bride, Toril?" 
	Tora forced herself not to look shocked. What had she expected? That Arne would wait for her and marry her after she had been with Magnus? She had not consciously thought about it before, but she realized now that part of her had hoped he would still want her.
	"I am very happy for you, Arne. Toril is lovely. When were you married?" 
	She wished to die as she listened to the young lovers' happy tale of their betrothal and recent marriage. As soon as she deemed it seemly, she made her excuses to her guests and sought her bed in the maidens' bower. The celebration would go on into the wee hours of the morning, and she had no inclination of seeking her bed in the loft of the Hall. 
	She slept fitfully and dreamed that she lay in Magnus's strong embrace. The agony that followed upon waking alone made her bury her head in her arms and cry.

(bm) Chapter 28

MAGNUS AND his men rested briefly in Oppdal, now only one day's ride from Trondheim. Word had reached them that Skule's bastard son Peter was dead. Haakon's ships had arrived in Trondheim, as had many other Birkebeiners. They had ransacked the city, most of the remaining Vårbelgs having sought refuge in the churches. Peter had disguised himself as a poor man in rags and made his way across the river to upper Elgeseter. The Birkebeiners had sought him out there, dragged him from the bakery where he hid and killed him.
	"A well educated man, a good clerk and strong in his faith he was," commented one of Magnus's men, upon hearing the news.
	"Not much of a fighting man, though," snorted another. Peter had been buried and the Birkebeiners had returned to the city. They sent word out in all directions, seeking to uproot Skule.

SKULE HID IN the forest around Trondheim. His men deserted him one by one, silently melting into the forest, and not returning. Even his most faithful men, whom he sent out scouting, did not return. He knew that the Birkebeiners were everywhere and that any move he made would be noticed. He remained in the forest two days, undecided as to what course of action to take. Wednesday before Ascension Day, when the canons paraded with the holy cross, a monk approached him. In his arms, he held the hooded brown robes of the cloister.
	"You may seek refuge with the brethren, my lord Duke," he said. 
	Had it all come to this? All his ambitious plans to lead a mighty nation? He shook his head.
	"I will accept the refuge you offer me, kind brother, but only temporarily. I would make no better monk than midwife! I see death before me, and I will meet it with sword drawn!"
	And so Skule and his handful of remaining men went up to Elgeseter cloister and took refuge in the tower there. They partook of a meal and drink, and beds were found for them. Skule would rest; he was weary to his very marrow.

MAGNUS HAD arrived in Trondheim and now sat in a boat, one of many that forded the river to reach Elgeseter. He pushed thoughts of Tora from his mind and focused on the task before him. There was no doubt the Vårbelgs were defeated, but the final scourge had to be removed to assure peace in the land. The death of Skule would bring that peace, and the sooner the better, thought Magnus. 
	As the Birkebeiners approached Elgeseter, Skule's men shot at them with all their might. The Birkebeiners put up their shields and retreated just out of firing range. Magnus sent his best bowmen through the surrounding woods to positions where they one by one took out Skule's men with their well-aimed arrows.
	Archbishop Sigurd had seen the Birkebeiners preparations to assault Elgeseter and had gathered to him many men: priests, city folk and merchants. They had raced to Elgeseter to stop the Birkebeiners and now stood between them and the cloister.
	"I refuse, in the name of the Holy Father, to allow you entrance to the cloister with warring and bloodshed on your minds. Be gone, and do not return less you hold goodness and mercy in your hearts!" he commanded.
	"The situation has gone beyond the norms of battle, and the sanctuary of the church can not be honored this day. Send out Skule Jarl or we shall enter the cloister whether you give us leave or not!" shouted Magnus. His men roared encouragement behind him.
	The archbishop held up his hands in supplication. He was clearly outnumbered. "Let me bargain with you for the life of Skule. I am willing to pay coin so that he may be pardoned to seek out the king. Let the two in-laws speak and reach a peaceful arrangement. We can avoid any more bloodshed this day!"
	Magnus was not surprised by the archbishop's offer, but he knew allowing Skule to live would only give him the opportunity to create political havoc in the land again. The scourge must be wiped out, its demise not delayed further.
	"Archbishop, we will consider your offer only if you guarantee by the Holy King Olav's see of Nidaros that Skule holds the promises he would make the king." Magnus watched as the archbishop's face turned crimson, knowing his demand was impossible for the archbishop to meet. The see of Nidaros was the richest, most powerful religious seat in the country, and the archbishop dared not risk it. 
	The archbishop shouted a reply, but his words were drowned out by the ensuing pandemonium. In their impatience to quench their thirst for Skule's blood, some men had broken loose from the rest and had set fire to the cloister. Others ran to help beat out the growing flames. 
	When Magnus saw this, rage filled him. To desecrate a holy place was reprehensible. He ran to the offenders, and clubbed them over the heads, swearing mightily at them. They retreated, grabbing injured parts and looking shame-faced. Magnus joined those who fought the spreading fire. The din at the cloister doors rose. Wiping away tears from the acrid smoke, he stopped and stared.
	Skule and his men stood in the doorway. He probably would rather sacrifice his life than see the cloister burn, Magnus thought grimly to himself. He fought his way through the throng to reach Skule. Skule deserved to die like a nobleman, if only for the Queen's sake. 
	He pushed forward, but could see that he would not reach Skule in time. He watched helplessly as Skule and his men stepped outside. Skule held a small shield in front of his face.
	"Don't cut my face," he screamed. "'Tis not seemly to cut the face of a noble!" The words had barely escaped his mouth before he and his men were attacked from all sides. Magnus's lip curled in distaste. He was glad he had not been a part of their butchery.
	The roar of the thriving fire broke the ensuing silence. Bloody hands turned to beat at lapping flames, to save the holy sanctuary they had just defiled. Their effort was futile. The intense heat caused the walls to collapse and the roofs to cave in. In no time at all, nothing remained but glowing embers and the ruins of a once great monastery.

(bm) Chapter 29

THE FOLLOWING weeks crawled by for Tora. Edda had returned the household keys to her, but Tora could see that everyone sought out the older woman when they needed help. Routines had changed in her absence and the servants had fallen into a pattern that pleased both them and Edda. Although nothing was said, they resented Tora's interference when she asked things to be done as she deemed. She felt ill at ease and unsettled as she only had once before—upon her arrival at Ringebu. She spent a great deal of time away from the others, seeking refuge in the forest.
	Anna found her there one day, high up the mountainside, on the out-cropping where she had first spotted Magnus and her father returning from the Ting. Anna had returned to Loren a couple weeks after Tora's arrival. King Haakon had sent her with a special escort and a message to Tora saying that he knew how fond she was of Anna and that her swift return to her was a special gift from Himself and Queen Margrete. Tears, ever on the verge of spilling these days, had rolled down her cheeks at the royal pair's thoughtfulness.
	"I thought I might find you here," Anna panted. She pulled herself up onto the boulder where Tora sat. "You always seek the forest when you feel bad." 
	Tora smiled sadly. "You know me well, Anna."
	"Yes, and I know when you are suffering. Tora, let me help you. Share your troubles with me as you used to when we were children." 
	Birds twittered and the wind soughed through the trees as Tora stared out into the vast countryside. She picked up a pebble and cast it out over the edge of the outcropping. She and Anna watched it fall, bounce off another boulder and disappear into the trees below.
	"It's the jarl, isn't it. You love him; I know it. What happened, Tora? Why did you leave him?" 
	Tora's frustration grew. "I did not leave him! I asked him to free me from the Ting's ruling and allow me to return here, and he wouldn't let me. Then, when I realized I truly loved him, he changed his mind and sent me away!"
	"I can not believe that! I've seen with my own eyes how he looks at you, his eyes hardly leaving you when the two of you are in the same room. The man has great feelings for you. Think of how jealous he was when you flirted with other men!"
	"Hmmph. He could not stand it that his property was at risk of falling into the hands of others, that's all! It hurt his bloody male pride!" She paused before continuing. "Besides, what difference does it make now? Both of us need to forget the past and move on." She referred not only to herself and Magnus but also to Anna and Henrik. Magnus would no longer consider interceding on their behalf, of that she was certain. 
	"Per has pressed me to fulfill my promise to him. We will marry as soon as the first haying is completed in July."
	Tora wrapped her arms about her forlorn friend. "Nothing seems to be going right for us lately," she said. 
	Anna pulled away from her. "I have noted that myself," she said. "I can see how miserable you are, how restless you are. You've become thin again. I've seen you at the table, just picking at your food."
	"I have no appetite of late," she said, frowning. At times she even felt physically ill at the thought of eating anything.
	"You, too, must forget the past, forget your love for Magnus and look forward to a brighter future." 
	Tora wished her friend could have put a little more enthusiasm in her voice.
	"Yes," she sighed. "That I must."

TORA STOOD out in the meadow along with most of the Loren folk. An early July sun shone warmly down upon them as they cut lush green hay, gathered it and hung it over lengths of strong walrus rope to dry. She lent a helping hand where needed and encouraged the workers as they labored. An arm settled about her shoulders and she turned to find her father standing next to her. He had aged. The physical strain of his imprisonment etched his face and would probably never disappear, but his spirits were much higher now than when he had first arrived back at Loren. She had worked hard to convince him that she had forgiven him for the calamity that had upset their world sixteen months ago.
	"We need not fear a hungry winter this year, saints be praised," said Oddvar. "I'm even looking forward to it—to being kept indoors by my own hearth while storms rage without." He smiled down at her, but his smile faded as he gazed into her eyes. "Tora, what plagues you so?"
	"'Tis nothing, Father, truthfully," she said, forcing a smile and a cheerful tone. "You are right; it will be good to be here at Loren—this winter, and always." 
	Oddvar gave her shoulders a squeeze and moved on to direct his men. 
	Tora stood still, gazing over the haymaking and away to the mountaintops in the distance. She had lied to her father. She was not at all certain that she belonged here anymore, and the thought of being cooped up in the Hall under such circumstances did not lift her spirits. The trouble was, the place she belonged was not within her reach. Even after all these weeks, she was convinced that only within Magnus's warm embrace could she find true peace and contentment. 
	No matter how hard she tried to avoid it, her thoughts turned continuously to him. If she closed her eyes, she could see him, almost smell him. She could even feel his hands cup her breasts, and the way his muscles rippled beneath her hands as she caressed him. Sometimes, she ached so badly with wanting him that she sought her own release. That left her unsatisfied and wanting him even more.
	Tora gave herself a mental shake and made her way back to the main farm. The workers would be hungry at the end of the day, and she had best help Edda start supper. So caught up was she in her own thoughts that she failed to see the horse tethered outside the Hall until she was halfway across the yard. She stopped dead in her tracks. Magnus's stallion. 	
	"You're just imagining things, you are. Addled from the sun," she mumbled to herself. There was no reason why Magnus would be here, and if he were to come he'd surely not come alone. She took a few tentative steps and stopped. It was his horse! There was no mistaking the breeding or the fine trappings. Tora picked up her skirts to flee. Seeing Magnus would just reopen the wounds she so desperately tried to heal. 
	She turned on her heel and ran—smack into a human wall. She held her breath and did not look up. Every instinct, every fiber in her body told her who it was. There was no mistaking the breeding or the fine trappings of this creature, either, she thought ironically, staring down at boots made of the finest leather. "We've done this before," she murmured after a few moments.
	Magnus had grabbed her arms to steady her and now used one hand to cup her chin and force her to meet his gaze. Tora blushed, thinking of a similar scene, when she had run into him the morning after their wedding. She closed her eyes.
	"Open your eyes and look at me, Tora." 
	Tora's lips trembled as she fought the wave of emotions that washed over her with Magnus so close. She did as he asked, unable to keep her hungry gaze from him. She knew every emotion she felt was displayed there for him to see. 
	She didn't care. She wanted him to hold her, to kiss her, so that she might feel once again the rough stubble of his beard against her smooth skin, his firm lips against her mouth, his tongue claiming her as his own as he had done so often in the past. 
	His eyes answered hers with a growing fire and he brought his head down to plant a soft, lingering kiss upon her mouth. He caught her trembling lower lip between his teeth and bit it gently. She groaned as frissons of pleasure exploded deep within her belly. She leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his neck, trusting him to support them both. He kissed her deeply, passionately, as if he had thirsted for days and she was the sweetest nectar.
	Tora's reason returned slowly. She broke away from him and retreated a hasty few steps away to collect her tumbling thoughts. She trembled in every limb and gulped air to steady her ragged breathing. She watched him, unsure of his intentions. Magnus stood waiting, not touching her, his own breathing uneven.
	"Why are you here?" she finally managed. 
	"I've come on behalf of Henrik to negotiate for the hand of Anna. He had thought she was lost to him forever, but try as he might, he has found that he cannot live without her." 
	Tora suddenly had the feeling his words had nothing to do with Henrik and Anna. Her blood pounded in her ears. She tried to focus on his words, but his near presence sent her pulse racing and she found it hard to concentrate.
	"You've come none too soon," she said breathlessly. She swallowed and tried again. This time, her voice came stronger. "She is to be married in only a week's time." She paused. "You could have sent Aksel to do that errand for you. Why have you come yourself?"
	Magnus stood there before her, not saying a word. He had the most peculiar expression on his face, a combination of great joy and pain. She gasped when he grinned at her and dropped to one knee before her. He pulled forth his dagger, holding the blade in his fist, the hilt thrust in the air like a cross. 
	"I do hereby confess and swear by all that is holy and true, that I love you, Tora of Loren, with all my heart and body. I think I began loving you right from the start, and I have spent all this time trying to convince myself otherwise. But I want nothing more than to care for you and worship you all the days of my life. Will you honor me by being my wife?"
	Tora heard his words, and joy filled her heart, but a strange sound buzzed in her head and she found that she could not respond. She saw, as if in slow motion, Magnus leap to his feet and reach out to her. Then everything went black.
	Magnus lifted Tora into his arms and frowned as he noted how thin she had become again. He carried her with long strides to the Hall and laid her gently in a bed. He turned to search for cool water and was surprised to see Edda standing there, watching.
	"What have you done to the poor girl now?" she asked. 
	Magnus smiled to himself. Here was someone very loyal to Tora, to be sure.
	"She fainted," he replied. He would not share with this woman the reason why she had fainted. His eyes narrowed as he noted the surprised look in her eyes. 
	"Tora has never fainted before in her life," she murmured. 
	Her face became guarded and Magnus watched her closely.
	"Well, get out of my way, my lord, and let me tend her," Edda declared. 
	Magnus stepped back, but watched over her shoulder as she swabbed Tora's face with a cool cloth. 
	Tora moaned and her eyes fluttered open. She saw Edda's concerned face before her and tried to remember why she was in bed in the middle of the day. Images of Magnus came rushing back. She smiled sadly. "I had the saddest dream, Edda. I dreamt that Magnus came and declared his love for me. He wanted me to be his wife," she finished in a whisper. Her brows drew together as she saw the look of astonishment on Edda's face. "Edda, what's wrong," she cried, sitting up. She noticed Magnus then. He came forward and knelt beside her.
	"'Twas no dream, dearest. I do love you. Never have I said that to another, and I never thought I would. I'd never even thought about love—before I met you. What say you, Tora, will you be my wife?"
	Tora stared up at him, tears rolling down the sides of her face. "Why did you send me away from you, if you love me as you say?" She watched as he raised his brows. 
	"Send you from me! The moment I said I would send you to Loren, you said there was no longer any reason for us to be together!" 
	Tora groaned and looked away. It was true. She turned back to look at him. "My heart was breaking so, but my pride...I would leave you with my head held high."
	Magnus sat on the bed behind her and gathered her up into his arms, not caring that Edda watched. A glance at her told him she no longer looked so stern, but had a soft smile on her lips.
	"What a fool I have been all this time. I tried with all my might to push you away, to keep you from gaining a place in my heart. In the process, I hurt you very much. I set out to master you, and instead I find that you hold my heart within the palm of your hand, and I am helpless in my love for you.
	"I never wanted you to leave me, my Tora. But I wanted to give you the freedom to choose, to come to me of your own free will, as you never could before. I swear I will make up for every single hurt with pleasure and happiness. Say you will marry me!"
	"Always ordering me about," Tora said smiling, tracing his rugged jawline with her finger. "You did rule over me with a steel hand, and I resented it greatly. But I forgive you, my lord, for I love you with all my heart and because I have made mistakes, too. Promise me that we will talk, rather than assuming the worst?" 
	Magnus nodded and brought her hand up to his lips. 
	"Then I would be honored to be your wife, my love." She looked thoughtfully at him. "But you have probably already sought an annulment?" 
	"I could not bring myself to do it. I tried to resolve myself to the fact that you were gone forever, but it was impossible. I could not get you out of my thoughts; you haunted my dreams and followed me everywhere I went. I had to come and try to convince you to be my wife again—for always. I'm sorry I scared you so that you fainted."
	"I did faint, didn't I." 
	"That happens sometimes to women who carry a babe beneath their heart," Edda broke in. 
	Tora looked up at her with eyes wide. "A babe?" 
	Edda nodded in reply. "Just look at yourself, Tora. You've no appetite, and you feel a bit queasy at times, don't you? You've lost weight, but your bosom is full. When did you last bleed?" 
	Tora thought back. She hadn't been paying attention, so much had happened.
	"'Twas after Easter, in April." She looked shyly up at Magnus. "Before the storm." 
	Magnus's arms tightened about her. "Leave us, Edda. I wish to speak to my wife in private." 	
	As the door closed behind Edda, Magnus moved from behind Tora and lay down by her side on the bed. From his tunic he pulled out a length of silk—a belt. On one end dangled a large golden key. 
	"I believe this belongs to you, my lady. 'Tis the key to Ringebu—and the key to my heart."
	"Oh, Magnus," she whispered her eyes filling once more with tears—tears of happiness. She took the belt and key and held them to her bosom. She would wear the key to represent her position of status within Magnus's household, delegating the heavy keyring with the many various keys to cupboards and chests to her housekeeper. She looked over at him, thrilling at the light of the love that shone in his eyes.
	"Tell me again that you love me," she whispered.
	"I shall do better than that—I shall show you."  
	He rested one large hand protectively on her belly, bent his head and kissed her ardently. Tora met his passion with a fire of her own and soon they lay entangled in each other's arms, the rest of the world forgotten, complete unto themselves.


~ The End ~
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