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his man standing nearby.
    "Sweyn?"
    "Aye, Sir Magnus?"
    "Hang them."

Chapter 7
    "Tell me of yer mother, child," Grunda
ordered as she scrubbed Muriele's long hair. "Last eve, I felt a
coldness in the air as the moon began its rise. I suspected 'twas
Ragnhild's spirit."
    Muriele crouched in the wooden washtub, her
knees drawn up under her chin. She swallowed and recounted the
horror of finding her mother's body.
    "The boy Mother came to aid?" She tilted her
head back to look at Grunda and held her opened hands at her
forehead to reroute the soapy water away from her eyes. "Did it not
go well?"
    "Nay. The family was most grateful."
    Grunda stood and tapped the back of Muriele's
head for her to lower it then emptied a bucket of warmed water over
her. "Now ye'd best get out of the water afore yer skin has as many
wrinkles as me neck." She laughed with good humor, the sound no
more alike the wild cackle in the stable yard as a dove's cry was
to an owl's screech.
    "The lout ye kicked in the stones lived in
the hut beside the boy's family. He knew yer mother was there. The
evil scum must have watched the forest roads waiting for her to go
back that way."
    "I must return to the woods and bury
her."
    "Huh, lass! Dinna try to leave whilst he's
here. He came by the name Ruthless by honoring his vow to track
down enemies and end their lives. Should ye flee, he would make ye
as sorry as he vowed. Did ye not hear Chief Olaf give ye to
him?"
    "Aye, but he canna be serious. I am not a
common woman to be given to another."
    "Child, dinna ye ken? Maybe not amongst
civil, gentle people. Even more than what the Chief decided, ye'd
best pay heed to Sir Magnus. Ye heard him order his man to hang the
louts. Not a person dared say him nay."
    Thinking of living behind castle walls as a
servant was stifling. Hot fear near closed Muriele's throat. The
man had ripped Blackbriar apart like a castle made of twigs. If not
for him, her mother and she would still be there. Granted, life
would be difficult amongst the ruins, but this Magnus had made sure
they could never return.
    "... dinna trust such sweetness," Grunda
muttered.
    "Eh? Forgive me. My mind gathered webs
instead of thoughts."
    "The Chief's son. The yellow-haired one."
    "Aye, I noted him. He looks to be filled with
kindness."
    "His eyes and face show sweetness and light.
Yet when he looks at Magnus, the heat surrounding his form tells of
tightly held secrets."
    "How can ye tell he has aught to hide?"
Muriele stopped drying her hair to study Grunda.
    "The struggle to keep his thoughts hidden
makes him so tense I can hear the blood pounding through his body.
Ye ken? 'Tis a sound like plucking the deepest sounding string of a
lyre?"
    "'Tis because ye see and hear things no one
else can."
    Muriele sat on a stool close to the small
fire, clutching the drying cloth around her. "Why did ye nod when
ye walked around Magnus?"
    "His face be made of stone. I canna read it.
But when I stepped behind him, his body remained calm.
Confident."
    "Aye, why would he not be? He is a massive
warrior."
    "All else believe I am an old woman to be
feared. Even Olaf blanched when I talked this day."
    "I see."
    "Magnus has changed much from the boy of
seven. These past months, I have talked to the women. His first
year at Kinbrace he was like a Peregrine eyas, a young hawk not out
of the nest, hiding his fear. Chief Olaf's wife tried to nourish
him. Olaf stopped it saying it would make him soft.
    "Olaf believed 'twas no way to train his
future protector. If Magnus showed any weakness, any kindness, his
foster father was swift to beat him. Now he is as Olaf wanted. A
hardened raptor. He can slash and tear the life's blood from a man
then laugh and drink wine with the chief as if naught had
happened."
    Someone scratched so lightly on the door as
to be furtive. Between the cracks, they saw a tall woman standing
close on the other side. The hinges creaked when Grunda opened it
to allow her to walk through.
    Muriele thought