Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

W hat now?

Moon had been surprised to see Steinar come to him earlier. It was obvious Eyja’s brother was reluctant to deliver his sister’s message and, in truth, he wasn’t sure he wanted to go see her. Was it a trap? Would he not find himself involved in another mess of her making? Nothing was guaranteed with her and he would prefer to stay well clear of it this time. Nevertheless, as soon as Farmon’s name had been mentioned, Moon had known he had no choice but to go and see her. Steinar didn’t know the man, had no idea why he would pose danger to either of them, so he could not have made the threat up and Eyja would never use such an appalling trick as to lie about a man wanting to rape her to lure him in.

No, it had to be true. The Saxon really was in the village, looking for them. If that was the case, she did need his protection. He could not leave her on her own with such a bastard roaming around. Using his hood to cover his face as he’d been instructed, he hurried toward the woods.

He found Eyja in the clearing, exactly in the place he had imagined she would be, by the gnarled oak. She was staring at the ground, her face white as milk, her body heaving. It was clear that she had just been sick.

Oh no. He could think of only one thing that made otherwise healthy women sick.

“Are you...” Bile rose in his own throat and he couldn’t finish the sentence. But she couldn’t be with child, could she? Not when he had not entered her body or come anywhere near her. He’d made sure not to soil her with his seed, so how could she be pregnant?

“It’s n-nothing,” she stammered. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” he snapped back. “You’ve just been sick. People who are fine do not cast the contents of their stomach onto the ground. Are you with child?” This time he forced himself to ask the question. He had to know.

“No.”

Everything within him melted in relief because for a dreadful moment he’d wondered if she was not carrying someone else’s child. She had not allowed Thorfinn to sleep with her and she’d been a virgin that day in the forest but she might have allowed another man to take her to bed since their return to the village. But that had been less than two weeks ago. Could she suffer from nausea after so short a time?

No, he was being silly and she had just told him that, thankfully, she was not with child. He exhaled. Then worry spiked through him again. Pregnant or not, she had just been sick. It was not normal.

“Are you unwell?” Steinar had not mentioned his sister was not well earlier. “What ails you?”

Instead of answering, Eyja shook her head. Moon frowned. There had to be something, and there was only one other thing that could explain the bout of sickness.

Fear.

Fear sometimes made people lose control over their bodies and he knew that Farmon was here in the village. It was not hard to guess that the man must be responsible for her anguish. But why? Surely she knew she didn't have anything to fear here in the village? Everyone would defend her, the bloody Saxon would not be allowed to touch as much as her little finger. So... He hesitated to form the thought. Was she afraid because she remembered something that had happened instead of worrying about what could happen?

He took another step toward her. “What happened with Farmon? How did he find out you were a woman, exactly? You never told me.”

And suddenly it seemed vital that he knew. Had the Saxon actually raped her? Was that why she’d wanted to leave the company of men?

She hesitated and hugged herself for far too long. Finally, she spoke.

“The morning we went into the woods together... He saw us.”

Moon felt as if he wanted to retch himself. The man had seen them, perhaps even watched them. The idea that the bastard had witnessed Eyja’s most intimate moment, seen him give her pleasure and then bring himself to climax was horrifying.

He’d thought the men had heard her moans and that had been bad enough. This was a hundred times worse.

Eyja started talking again, her voice flat. “He said... He said all those horrible things, how he would like to use me and then let his men take their well-earned pleasure with me. He pressed me against the tree when I tried to flee.”

He stilled. Of course. The bruised cheek. He’d known she hadn’t walked into a tree! He should have insisted, forced her to reveal the truth.

This was all his fault. Why, oh, why had he left her alone in such a vulnerable moment? She’d been bewildered by what he’d done to her, he should have stayed with her, made sure she was all right. Although Moon wasn’t sure he would be able to endure hearing the rest, he had to ask.

“Did he touch you?” Had she had time to get dressed before Farmon pounced on her? This was his worst nightmare come true, being forced to admit that a woman’s rape was all his fault, even if he had not been the one to perpetrate the crime.

“No. One of the men called him just then. He left, saying he would reveal the truth about my identity to his friends during the day, and that I had better get ready for a rough night.” She started to shiver. “If we hadn’t left when the boars attacked, that night they would have each taken a turn with me.”

Yes, this much Moon already knew. But he’d had no idea she had borne that burden alone the whole day. He slapped the nearest tree so hard pain reverberated all the way to his ribs.

“Damn it, Eyja, why didn’t you tell me Farmon knew the truth? You should have?—”

“And then what? I would have had to watch you being ripped to shreds by eight men for defending me.” She stood up, still pale but as determined as ever. “You would have died in front of my eyes, and then they would have raped me anyway. Your death would have been in vain. The only solution was to leave.”

She was right, damn her! If she had told him, he would only have gotten killed for attacking the men on his own, and his death would have made no difference to the fate they had in store for her. Still, he couldn’t help feeling she should have come to him.

“The bastard!” he said between his teeth. Farmon was lucky. If Moon had known how the Saxon had threatened and frightened her before, he would have gone to rip his guts out instead of hiding and coming to see Eyja as she’d instructed. “He had better make sure he and I never cross paths again.”

But even as the words passed his lips he realized he might well ensure their paths did cross again. If Farmon had been able to track them down to the village, Moon could certainly do the same and scour the town in search of him. It might take time but he would eventually find him and avenge Eyja.

Just then, as if fate had decided to save him some time, he saw a man walking in the distance, on the road leading back to town. It was none other than Farmon. Moon didn’t even blink. With a roar, he started to run.

“No, Moon! Wait, we’re supposed to hide,” he heard Eyja shout before she chased after him. But he wouldn’t hide. Not when he had to make the bastard pay for what he’d done. Today Farmon was not surrounded by his cronies, he was on his own—and he would pay.

He fell on the unsuspecting Saxon and pinned him against the nearest tree. Fury was blinding his vision, urging him to throttle the man on the spot. When Eyja drew next to him, begging him to let go, he barely heard her.

“Please, don’t hurt me!” the man wheezed. “Have mercy.”

The plea only incensed Moon further. Why should he even listen to the maggot? “You dare talk to me of mercy when you?—”

He froze in the act of strangling Farmon because... Well, because the man he was holding wasn’t Farmon. It couldn’t be. Despite what he’d been told, and what he’d thought at first, he could not ignore the evidence in front of his eyes.

“You don’t have any scars on your cheek,” he whispered, slackening his hold. This was indisputable proof that he was not the man who’d fought with them in York. A scar could appear on someone’s cheek but not suddenly disappear, especially not one so fresh or dramatic.

“Why w-would I have a s-scar?” the man stammered, clearly at a loss, and frightened for his life.

“You’re not Farmon,” Moon repeated, doing his best to clear the red haze from his mind. He needed to let go. This was not the man he was after, but an innocent. Still, he found it hard to relinquish his hold over him.

“No, I’m not Farmon.” This time the Saxon sounded more assured, as if he trusted that he had nothing to fear now that his real identity had been revealed. Moon was not so confident. In spite of knowing he would feel bad afterward for throttling the wrong man, he was having a hard time mastering his fury. “Who are you? What do you want with Farmon?”

The question brought some sense back into him and Moon finally found the strength to release the man. He glared at him while he cleared his throat. Though he now knew this was not his worst enemy, it was hard to recover from the towering rage that had consumed him only moments ago. Besides, the man looked too much like Farmon for him to relax completely. What was going on here? The two of them had to be related.

“You answer my questions first. Who are you? And how do you know who I’m talking about?”

“I’m Cuthbert, his twin brother. You’re not the first one to mistake me for him, as you can imagine. Although usually people don’t try to throttle me when they do. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was what they wanted to do but, as a rule, they lack the guts to try.”

Considering he had almost been killed a moment ago, the man demonstrated impressive calm. In fact, his whole demeanor was different Farmon’s. There was none of the loathsome swagger and crudeness his twin displayed. He was soft-spoken and seemed genuinely sorry for the confusion, even if he had been the one suffering from it. It was only because he’d glimpsed him from a distance that Moon had been fooled. Had he spent but a moment with him he would have known this could not be Farmon.

“I gather that you know him?” the Saxon continued.

Know him. Yes, unfortunately he did.

“We marched with him to go fight the Norsemen,” Moon answered curtly. That was all the man needed to know. The rest was none of his business.

“I’d heard that he and some of his friends had joined the king’s men.” A pause. “I take it he survived the battle, if you mistook me for him?”

“Yes.”

“Well. My parents will be glad of it at least,” Cuthbert said with a nod. It was obvious that he didn’t share the same relief but Moon didn’t ask any questions. If the man didn’t get on with his brother, it went to show that he knew him for the weasel he was. Yet another reason to regret the misguided assault. He took another step back, indicating the Saxon was safe.

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“No, I can see that. And I’m sorry for whatever reason pushed you to do it.”

It was brief but Moon didn’t miss the way Cuthbert glanced in Eyja’s direction. It was as if he’d guessed why a man might want to strangle his brother. Evidently Farmon was used to assaulting the women he met and this was not the first occurrence.

“Can I ask you a favor? I won’t hold it against you if you refuse, but I have to at least try. You seem like a man of honor.”

The Saxon shuffled on his feet. “Of course.”

“I take it from your questions that Farmon has not come back home yet.” A brief nod confirmed this. “Would you send word to the village when he does? I would be very grateful.” He forced himself to be honest, even if he knew it might not help his cause. “I feel compelled to tell you that I cannot vouch for my reaction if I ever cross paths with your brother but in the meantime, I...”

“You want to know whether you can relax your guard or not,” Cuthbert finished in his stead. “You want to know that, for now at least, you can live your life without worrying when my brother might pounce.”

“Yes.” That was exactly what it was, only he would not have dared admit as much to Farmon’s brother, who was not responsible for the man’s character.

“I understand. You want to protect your wife. It’s only normal.”

“She’s...” Moon started with the intention of saying that Eyja was not his wife but his mouth had other ideas. “She’s very precious to me.”

He started. Where had that come from? Oh, well, it was the truth at least. The imp was precious to him, even if she wasn’t his wife, and he didn’t want her harmed. He stole a brief glance at her and saw that she was still too pale for comfort. Before he could think, he drew her against his flank.

“I promise I will let you know when he comes back,” Cuthbert said. “But don’t be surprised if you have to wait. It might be weeks, or even months before he does. I know he was considering leaving town.”

Even better. The longer the bastard decided to stay away, the better.

“I’m Halfdan. Send word directly to me, please.” He would not have Eyja dealing with the message on her own. Besides, he wouldn’t put it past her to hide the news so as to spare him if she heard that Farmon was back.

After a last nod, the Saxon walked away.

Moon turned around slowly. Eyja was standing next to him, looking smaller than usual. It struck him that he was surprised to see her wear a dress when in reality there was nothing more normal than this. He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure what to do or what to say. Since they had come back to the village, everything had gone awry. They had been berated for their decision to join the army, they had argued, he had found himself involved in a fight with a bully talking to her as he would to a whore and then they had spent more than a week without seeing one another, the longer they had ever done.

It had hit him unexpectedly hard.

As a youth, he’d often complained about the fact that she was always around, even when he didn’t want her to be, but he now realized how helpful and comforting her presence had been. As a woman, she’d brought a much welcome breath of fresh air and a new angle to the proceedings. Left to their own devices, a group of boys could all too easily have become feral and obnoxious, like Bragi and Farmon’s little packs had done. Eyja had brought some sense and restraint to the whole affair.

And joy.

Having taken for granted the fact that he saw her every day, he’d been surprised by how much he’d missed her these last few days. Perhaps he should not have been, for the imp was one of a kind. No one he knew could have taken her place, for no one was more sharp-minded, or more stimulating. He needed that constant stimulation, so he just wanted things to go back to the way they’d been. Or at least... to something. Being without her was just too odd. He felt incomplete, somehow.

“Listen, Imp, I’m sorry for what I said the other day, for saying that I regretted what happened between us, for shouting at you, for telling you that you were a mistake. None of that is true. I don’t regret anything and I wish I had not snapped thus.” By the gods, it seemed he was forever apologizing to her for losing patience and hurting her feelings.

“And I’m sorry for how badly I handled the situation with my father,” she mumbled, not looking at him, “for allowing him to believe we had lain together, for provoking Bragi and causing him and his friends to?—”

“Don’t be sorry. He had it coming. I will not have him or anyone else treat you the way he did. I hope you know I will always be on your side.”

“I know. You’ve just proved it and I thank you.”

He cupped her jaw in his hands. He’d meant the gesture as a reassurance, but it ended up looking rather possessive, if not predatory. He was instantly reminded of Thorfinn, who might have cupped her face thus before he’d kissed her. Could he do the same, draw her closer to him and place his lips against hers? They’d been intimate once, very intimate, but they had never kissed, and suddenly it seemed like something he wanted to remedy.

No.

He took a step back and forced himself to release her. He could not do something as irresponsible. Things were complicated enough as they were. In any case, he should not want to kiss her, and now least of all, when they had just found out that they would not be forced to marry. Not that he’d had any doubt about it, of course. What they had done could never have led to a pregnancy.

“So you’re not with child then,” he said slowly. “Our fathers will have no choice but to accept that you are still a virgin and we won’t have to marry.”

“No, we won’t.”

Eyja sounded as breathless as he was. There was an odd expression on her face, one he could not quite account for. Was she... disappointed? Was he ? Was that what the odd churning in his gut was?

Surely not.

They stared at one another for a long moment, and he had the sudden certainty that everything would be all right from now on. She would not avoid him any longer. Relief swept though him. They would be friends again, she would be part of his life once more.

“Will you come with me to tell Faeir we were telling the truth all along?”

Moon nodded and held out his hand to her. “Of course. Let’s go.”

So it was all over.

Eyja stared at the beams overhead, wondering what was causing her despondency. Shouldn’t she be relieved she wouldn’t have to spend the rest of her life married to a man she had not chosen? A man who felt for her none of the things her father felt for her mother, a man who didn’t want her for his wife? Yes, she should. And she was relieved, in a way. It was only...

Well, that in another, she wasn’t.

This talk of being married to Moon seemed to have put strange ideas and hopes into her head and she could not help but think of what might have been if they had been forced to marry. Would it have been so terrible to be his wife, even if they had not loved one another? After all, her parents, whose marriage was the kind she was striving for, had not married because they were in love. But love had quickly followed.

Perhaps it could have been the same for her and Moon? They already knew and liked each other. She made him laugh and he made her feel safe. She could think of worse circumstances to start a marriage. And, of course, there was the knowledge of what fire he could ignite in her body when they touched...

Unable to sleep despite the late hour, she slipped outside. Sitting on the bench her father had made the year she was born, she raised her eyes to the moon, which was casting its light above the land, turning everything blue. There it was, in the middle of the sky like a faithful friend, drawn by Máni’s chariot. It was a familiar, comforting presence and yet ever changing. Tonight it was full and round, in a few days time it would be reduced to a mere crescent and then gone completely, only to grow again—and wane again the following month. Immovable and yet always different. Even the color could change. It sometimes abandoned its usual silver to turn white, blood red or even amber.

And Moon...

Why could it not be the same with him? Why could he not assume different roles in her life? In just a few weeks, he had gone from brother, playing companion, friend and protector to lover. He’d made her discover pleasure and he could have ended up as her husband. The moon, that nightly body, was sometimes visible during the day, when you least expected it. Why couldn’t it be the same with her Moon? Why couldn’t he be where she’d least expected to find him?

Or... Was it so unexpected?

It was far from certain.

Aged fifteen, when the workings of her mind had started to change along with her body, she had been briefly attracted to each of her male friends in turn. For the most part, the feelings had vanished as suddenly as they had appeared, never to come back. But with Moon... With Moon it had been different, stronger, more lasting, to the point that she had once carved in an old oak a shape, the exact replica of the mark on his wrist. She had not just been drawn to his physique, she had once fancied herself in love with him, which was not quite the same.

Well, it just went to show how foolish she was.

Because he certainly did not feel anything more than affection toward her.