Dream of Me/Believe in Me

“You asked Marta for the keys.”
    It wasn't a question, but Cymbra nodded stiffly, as best she could in his hold.
    “She refused them and organized the other women against you.”
    “Not all the women. Brita and the other female slaves have done everything they could.”
    “Because they, like you, are strangers here and know what that can mean.”
    He paused, compelling her to meet his gaze. “What happened on our wedding night?”
    Cymbra paled. He could not possibly know— “W-what do you mean?”
    His grasp tightened implacably. “You appeared only a little nervous when you left the hall with Marta and the women. By the time I joined you, you were terrified. What happened?”
    “Nothing … it was just so new and sudden, I—”
    “Cymbra!” He made her name a warning. She didn't need more. Color returned to her face and deepened rapidly. “Marta said something about you hurting me.” Quickly she added, “I didn't believe her, not really, but I felt very alone and—”
    He let go of her so suddenly that she almost fell. Barely had she caught her balance then he was out the door and striding across the field.

Chapter TEN

    T HE WOMEN WORKED BY TORCHLIGHT . Several knelt, scrubbing the floor, while others rubbed down the tables with sand, and still more cleaned the dishes and utensils. They labored in silence, watched over by their scowling menfolk, who no more liked being rousted from their beds than did the women but who stood foursquare in support of their jarl. Besides, the food really had been terrible.
    The slaves were not permitted to help. Brita and the others, awakened by the commotion, were sent back to their beds and told to take the coming day for rest. They would do no work, not so much as the lifting of a broom, until the freewomen had restored all to rights.
    Nor was Cymbra allowed to help. When she tried, Wolf pulled her away. He stood, silent and forbidding, until he was satisfied that the work was well in hand. Then he gestured to several of the guards who stood ready. They closed in around Marta, who gasped and tried to slip away but could not.
    “Come,” Wolf said and stalked off, leaving a small parade of wife, guards, and the curious to follow him intothe timbered great hall. He sat alone at the high table and stared at the others. The silence dragged out until Cymbra truly believed she could bear it no longer. At length, the jarl spoke.
    “Marta Ingridotter, you are the widow of a man who held my greatest respect. For that reason, I did not hesitate to give you the ordering of my household while still I lacked a wife. But you betrayed my trust by deliberately seeking to turn my wife against me and by refusing her that which was hers by right.”
    When the woman would have tried to speak, he cut her off with a look. The others shared glances among themselves. Clearly, they knew of the issue with the keys but the rest, how she had tried to turn Cymbra against her husband, was by far the graver matter and made all the more so for being mysterious. To sow such disharmony was to betray them all.
    “You will leave Sciringesheal,” Wolf went on implacably. “And your daughter with you.” He ignored Marta's strangled cry. “You will make your home at the settlement at Oslofjord. It is within my holdings and the landsmann there is a strong leader. Behave properly and you will be fairly treated. Otherwise—” He shrugged, making it clear that Marta would be responsible for her own fate.
    She was crying softly, her head buried in her hands. Wolf rose, facing his people. More had crowded in as word spread that Marta was being judged. Deliberately, he said, “This woman chose her path when she stood against my wife. Let all here know that and take lesson from it.”
    He looked slowly and directly around the room. To Cymbra, his gaze seemed to stare into their very souls. Whatever he saw must have satisfied him for he nodded finally. The crowd, silent and subdued, dispersed.
    Marta and Kiirla were taken away to their quarters bythe guards. They would be given a chance to pack their belongings and say goodbye to whichever friends were brave enough to visit them. With morning light, they would be gone.
    Alone with her husband in the great hall, Cymbra prayed for calm. All but overwhelmed by his swift and absolute support of her, she was nonetheless horrified by the punishment he meted out so unhesitantly
    In all likelihood, Marta had come to Sciringesheal as a young bride. Perhaps