Pacing did little to ease his anger. Dammit, when would those bastards stop landing on his shores? Stephan broke his angered path and stormed to the window to view his ground, knowing there were at least twenty boats in the bay, his scout had seen them delivering quick word of the Norsemen arrival.
His fists balled at the thought of more of them. He would do as he had planned; the two would hang in the morning, and be left as warning to any entering the bay of the consequences of those barbarians entering his lands. Sinking to his mattress, Stephan felt his anger draining him, leaving an exhausted shell behind the armor.
She did this to him, Alara; a healer traveling with the Eastern entertainers. Memories of her assailed him, of her sun kissed skin glowing in the fire light as he kissed every glorious inch of it in this same bed.
"You are a fool to think I would stay with just you Stephan. You bought me the night I shared in your bed! How could you think it was anything more than a fuck?"
Her harsh words rattled in his head, echoed in his emotions, he had been foolish, believed himself in love with the treacherous viper. He had foolishly believed her in love with him, until he found her in the embrace of another, heard her screams grow louder with every thrust the male was giving her.
Thinking to save her from rape, Stephan had run through the castle grounds, sword readied to behead the bastard to defile Alara. Only to be stopped by the site of her riding the man as he kissed the tanned skin that he had revered and loved.
The whore had been screwing the Norseman Nikolai, a man he had barred from his shores before for his limitless carousing, many of his villagers growing furious with errant wives disappearing off with the enormous Viking.
And now he made free with his woman. Wielding his sword in his torment and anger, Stephan had rushed the couple, seeing them break apart in haste, the giant's sword readying only just in time before Stephan's moved down to strike. He had fought for his honor then, determined with every forceful swing to decapitate the behemoth, and failing as it countered everything he put his strength into, without breaking so much as a light sweat.
Alara had jumped his back then, screaming those words in his ear, searing them into his memory along with the saturation of her hatred, the venom in her sweet voice.
It happened so quickly, Stephan still could not recall every detail, one moment he felt her light weight on his back, the next she was falling from his sword, the bright red welling stain over her belly bright in the moonlight as she gasped her last breaths, the hate in her eyes evident as he wept on his knees beside her as all life left her limp in his arms.
The bastard had left them then, left to cry over a whore in the clearing of the woods, left him to bury the woman he loved, but who had hated him in return.
Stephan stood once more, refusing to stay on that bed a moment longer, the memories still too fresh in his mind. Sitting by the fire, he poured a cup of wine and downed the sweet liquid, quickly refilling his cup once more.
He had worked methodically after that, creating fear of strangers in the village, saying that it was the Norseman who had killed Alara; that the travelers were in cohort with the invaders. It had not taken long before the eastern travelers were fleeing, and he knew the Norse had sent a messenger boat and half their crew off the coast within a week of Alara's death. He and his men had begun rounding up the travelers, killing the ones who fought, torturing those they captured.
His lie had gone too far by then, the soldiers wanted answers the travelers could not give. Where are the Norsemen now? Have they sent for more? Their cries still surrounded him, their blood still covered him, each night they went out, his jealously and anger took over as they rounded up and fought the travelers.
The scene that ended him was what tortured him at night now. It was no longer Alara's death; or her writhing on Nikolai's lap. It was the tiny woman cradling her dead son, with her heart breaking through the silence of the night in the aftermath of his rage.
He had seen it happening, but not through his own eyes, almost as if he were a spectator to the event, steering his enormous horse to run the child down and only returning to his body after he turned the steed around, and saw the tiny and broken boy in the arms of his distraught mother.
His guards had come then, dragging the woman from her child, and to the castle dungeons. He did not know how many hours he sat on the muddied ground looking at the beautiful boy, wishing he could put the rosy color back into his cheeks, the breath back into his body, and the joy back into the tiny woman's heart.
He had buried the tiny body in a field of poppies, draping the small necklace over the cross the put into the ground where the angel lay. He had gone looking for Nikolai then, intending to exact his revenge for all upon him, but never finding the elusive bastard. Returning several weeks ago to find the woman had killed herself in the deep pool that ran beneath his castle, his heart gave up, he was no longer a man, with conscience, he was kin to the devil, and the devil would have its peace from these marauders.
His resolution firm, he watched the sun rise. Stephan went to bring the girl to the gallows.
************************
"Ragnar, we located him." Eown spoke, quietly through the door in the boat before returning above deck. Ragnar sat holding a stunned Kate to him.
"She just ran Ragnar, I felt a sharp pain across my belly, and she panicked and ran to get you, I am sorry, I did not mean to scare her." Kate felt foolish, she too had though she was about to birth the babe until she realized the child was just moving, the pain then vanished, but by then, so had Eleanor.
"Do you think they are alright? Its dawn now, Eown said that Stephan's plan was to hang them at dawn." Tears could no longer be contained behind her tightly closed eyes, and she openly wept for her friend.
