Chapter 22
Every sinew in Runa's body ached, and her stomach burned with worry. Her mind was a furor of thoughts and images, none of them good. She sat on the edge of her bed, no longer willing to chase sleep like it was a rabbit fleeing down a hole, and held her head in both hands. The change of clothes refreshed her and the cold air on her throbbing feet felt good. The cool and quiet darkness of her private room was soothing. But none of these comforts made any difference to her.
Having returned to Ravndal ostensibly to rest, she considered it defeat. Time had passed in a blur, and combing the lands for signs of Hakon had lasted long enough to spend all her strength. Ulfrik had finally insisted she would better serve them at the hall, in case news should come while they were gone. At the time it made sense to her addled mind, but now she realized he wanted her out of the way and that she needed the break. Needed or not, waiting in the hall for something to happen would never satisfy her. Regret for having returned now filled her heart.
Hakon remained the prisoner of a madman and she would not rest until he was freed. She wished Throst had hanged alongside his father. Snorri had warned them that mercy had a way of twisting back on a man. Of course, no one could have guessed this. She massaged her temples, and tried to stop thinking about something that could not change. Throst lived and now took revenge upon them.
Slipping on her shoes, she stood from the bed and adjusted her skirt. Her long knife was still strapped tight against her thigh, and she snorted in disgust at it. "What good did this do me? My son was still snatched from home, weapon or no."
After roughly combing her hair, she exited to the main hall where a quiet darkness enveloped the empty spaces. With no large meal to prepare, the hall sat emptied of all but the servants who slept within it. Two thin Frankish girls lay on the floor by the gently glowing hearth, the embers pulsing a low heat. Runa felt her stomach match the rhythm and burn of the hearth fire and she placed her hand over her belly. The two girls stood as she entered, but she waved them away. Einar's wife and daughters sat opposite of the low hearth, bundling wool that had been spun earlier in the day.
"Where's Aren and Gunnar?" she asked. Her stomach burned hotter at their absence.
"Aren is asleep under the table," said the oldest girl, Matilda, who pointed to a dark lump bundled into a brown wool cloak.
"And Gunnar went to watch the walls," Einar's wife, Bera, said as she piled her bundle of spun wool into a basket. "Though he should return soon with sunset near."
Runa sat down, as relieved as if she they had dispelled bad news. She rubbed her face, knowing full well she could not worry at every absence of her children but was unable to stop. Bera set aside her work and joined Runa on the bench, taking Runa's hand into her own.
"I'm certain Hakon will be found. I can't imagine your suffering and worry. Matilda is only a few years younger than him, and the thought of one so young …" Bera's voice trailed off as she blushed at her artless words. Runa could not help a small laugh at Bera's humiliated expression. She was a good woman but naive in her youth. She and Einar made a good pair, for both shared a simple and honest personality and worked hard for what they desired.
"No need to speak of it," Runa said, and squeezed Bera's hand. "I know your intent, and I am glad for it. It will be a happy day when Hakon returns home, and I too believe that day will be soon. The men are searching every corner of the forest and watching the trails. Throst will be caught and my son freed."
"Well then, that is good," Bera said with a smile, and again Runa laughed. It was the first time she had smiled since Hakon had disappeared, and it felt strange on her face. Still, even if short-lived, the smile lifted her mood.
Then the hall doors opened, the orange light of the late hour flooding around the slim figure of a platinum-haired woman. Runa recognized Halla immediately and her heart fell and the burn on her guts redoubled.
She swept inside, head swiveling to take in the hall, and she paused inside the door until she fixed on Runa. She flitted across the room toward her, and Runa stood. Bera also stood, and stepped away as Halla neared, excusing herself with a murmured apology. She passed Halla, who did not spare her a glance, and gathered her basket and daughters to prepare to leave.
"My dear sister, it's true that you've returned," Halla said with a false breathlessness that instantly set Runa's teeth clenching. "Why did you not call for me after you arrived?"
"Why disturb your rest?" Runa said, standing stiffer and feeling her hands tremble. She had avoided Halla since her arrival, and quartering her and Toki in another hall had made it easier, but she knew eventually they would have to interact. She just did not want it to be this moment.
"And how can I rest knowing my nephew is in the grip of a murderous wolf? When I close my eyes, I can only see poor Hakon suffering horrible tortures. No, you should've summoned me immediately."
Runa stared hard at her. Halla's pale eyes and snub nose reminded Runa of her father, and the same wicked glint as her father flashed in them when she described her fears for Hakon. Whatever appeal she held in her youth, age had stolen from her. The frown she always carried had written itself into her flesh, so that even the false smile she now wore appeared mean and angry. Her lustrous hair, once her pride, was now dull and thin. Halla was an evil witch, and Runa had always known this. What her brother saw in her and why he kept her all these years was a mystery and a curse for Runa.
"And so you have come and expressed your worry," Runa said. "Now I am tired and want to rest. Don't let me keep you."
"Never say it. I will be at your side during this horrible time. I will pray to Jesus Christ that Hakon is safely returned home and is spared agonizing torture, or worse yet, death. How trying it must be for you to know your son is being torn apart and you are powerless to act. I must remain with you!"
Runa's glare froze the room, and her vision fogged around Halla's face. She was actually smiling as she dug at Runa with her unconcealed malice. Through the haze, Runa saw Bera and her daughters fleeing the hall and the serving girls fading into the shadowed corners. She felt her eye twitching and her hand tingling to find the hilt of her knife.
"You little witch," Runa hissed. "You take joy in my son's terror?"
Halla's ice-clear eyes went wide with mock consternation. "How could you say that? I am your brother's wife, and the pain of his family is my own as well. I just can't stop seeing poor Hakon with his eyes torn out or his tongue cut from his head, or even worse."
"Silence, bitch!" Runa's hand drew back but stopped as Halla defied her with a honey-sweet smile. "Whatever you think I won't do, think on it again. You are testing me to my limit."
"Oh, so now it's Runa the Bloody once more?" Halla placed her blue-veined hands over her chest. "She solves all her worries with the stroke of her sword. Well, here's something she can't cut to bits and make go away. Her son is lost, no doubt due to her own carelessness, and her sword has no one to strike."
"Your head would be a fine place to strike," Runa hissed and reached down for her blade, but again stopped.
"Try it," she said with a smile. "Here's my head, ripe to be split. But you won't, will you? We are family, after all, and your brother loves me above all others."
"And for what I shall never know. You are worm-shit at the bottom of the world. You are a cockroach to be crushed underfoot. You are a pig-nosed, lying, evil-minded whore!" Runa's shouts echoed through the hall, and she recoiled at her unbridled anger. Her head was hot and unwanted tears puddled in her eyes. Her heart pounded as if she had run up a mountainside.