Page 52 of Ulf's Destiny
“It makes sense for you to be suspicious after what happened to Cwenthryth,” she whispered. “But don’t you see? I have to at least take into consideration the fact that he could be my brother. I need to know. And for that I have to see him. It is my decision to make. You cannot decide for me when or if I talk to him. You cannot deny me the opportunity of finding out the truth. You have no right over me.”
She hated to point this out but she had to make him see reason. This was not his battle, it was hers. And she was desperate to go talk to the man who could be the only family she had left.
Ulf came to stand in front of her and placed a hand over her stomach. The touch was gentle, careful, but his eyes were smoldering.
“I might be nothing to you, but I am this father’s child,” he said in a low, almost menacing voice. “You can think of me whatyou like, you can wish you didn’t have to deal with me, but it is my responsibility to protect this babe and I will do it.”
Ylva bit her bottom lip. Not only was he angry but he was hurt. “I didn’t say you were nothing to me. I don’t mean that.”
She’d said he had no right over her. It was not quite the same, was it? No, but she could see why it would have hurt him. How would she feel if he’d said the same about her? She would have hated it. Oh, but this was a mess. She had just made a shocking discovery and being with child didn’t help her deal with the emotions it provoked inside her.
She needed to think. Alone.
Eyes filled with tears, Ylva ran out of the hut.
After a while, she had to come to a stop. Her stomach, admittedly not as big as it would get in the months to come, was making it uncomfortable to run. A fallen tree trunk to her right provided a handy seat.
She would have liked to go to Steinar’s hut immediately and demand to see Oslac, but she knew the request would be ignored. She knew now why Ulf’s explanation that the man was claiming to be her brother had provoked such a reaction from his father. He would have been reminded of the man who had done the same thing to hurt his wife. Though she sympathized, she couldn’t help but feel the unfairness of it in her bones. One man was being held under suspicion because of what another had done. And now the happiness she’d felt at being reunited with her only family was tainted by doubt.
Because, say what she might, Ulf’s story had chilled her to the bone. What if this “Oslac” really was an impostor out to take advantage of a lonely, vulnerable woman? She had only just been freed from Mildred. She could not risk becoming another man’s captive. It was not only about her. She had to think because she had her child to protect. If she had to put her wishes on hold to ensure its safety, she would.
Just then footsteps were heard behind her. Ylva tensed. Had Ulf come after her? No, the footsteps were too tentative and soft to be those of a big, irate Norseman. She waited, hoping that whoever it was who had happened upon her would carry on and leave her alone.
The noise stopped when the person came to a halt by her side. Cwenthryth. Ulf’s mother. Well, not birth mother but mother nonetheless. The woman who’d suffered at the hands of a man posing as her brother. Another chill went through Ylva. The poor woman had been through so much.
“Are you all right?” Cwenthryth asked softly.
All sorts of answers passed through Ylva’s mind. In the end, the honest one came out.
“No,” she admitted, staring at her feet. “I’ve just argued with Ulf. Earlier today I thought I’d seen my brother for the first time in thirteen years. But I was denied the opportunity to find out more and now I don’t know whether I can trust him or not. So no, I’m not all right.”
“I know what happened this morning, which is why I came to find you. I guessed you would be upset.”
With a sigh, Cwenthryth sat down on the tree trunk next to her. Ylva didn’t even think of hiding her rounded stomach. It was probably too late and suddenly she couldn’t remember why she had wanted to keep the babe a secret.
“Yes, I am upset,” she mumbled.
“I’m sorry for Ulf and Steinar’s heated reaction. You can be sure I will have a word with them once their temper has cooled. But I cannot say I’m surprised at how they reacted, or even that I blame them for being cautious.”
Ylva couldn’t help being disappointed. She had hoped that Cwenthryth would be an ally. But apparently, she was siding with the men. After what she had endured it was perhapsunderstandable, but Ylva couldn’t help feeling as if the whole world was against her.
There was a pause, then Ulf’s mother turned to her.
“You will have been told about Godfrid, the man who posed as my half-bother, I suppose, the reason for the men’s reticence to accept Oslac’s word?” She spoke in a low voice, making it clear she was uncomfortable discussing this. The memories would be too painful.
“Yes. I’m sorry. What he did to you was monstrous.”
“It was, but he did more than hurt me. I bet that Ulf didn’t tell you Godfrid almost killed him when he was not yet thirteen?”
Ylva’s hands flew to her mouth. Indeed he had not. “No. Why?”
“Because he had stopped him from doing what he’d planned to do to me.” Cwenthryth bit her bottom lip. “After a few days hiding in the village, I had foolishly gone back home. Godfrid was furious and decided to ensure I never left again. This time I think he would have killed me after raping me. But Ulf had come into town to ask me to come back. He saw us and jumped on Godfrid, who turned his ire onto him. In the end, Steinar arrived in time to save us both. But it was a horrific scene. I really thought that Ulf would die.”
Dear God, what a story. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.”
She had once asked Ulf about his happy childhood. She now knew it had not been free of trauma. He had told her about his real mother’s murder, but she had not known about this even worse tale. Having to come to the rescue of the woman you saw as your mother aged only twelve and then being almost beaten to death for defending her, having to witness your father commit murder in front of your eyes, even for a good cause, would have been traumatic. Was it during that frightful attack that he’d hadhis wrist broken? He’d told her he’d been twelve but had not given any more details. It could have been.
Cwenthryth took her hand in hers.
