Page 34 of Merciful Salvation

“In humor. Not out of wedlock.”

“I’m no child.”

“No,” he said and let go. “I suppose you aren’t.” His heated gaze swept over her body.

“You are an honorable man, Marteinn. I’ve always admired you. Whatever woman you choose to love and marry, she’ll be the luckiest female in the world.”

“I can’t let you stay here.”

“Jarl McNally is in charge. If you try—”

“Be quiet.” He fisted his hands. “I’m fully aware of who and what that scoundrel is. The more you defend him, the more suspicious I get.” He unsheathed his short sword, then gazed at the blade. “This is the answer to most men’s miseries.”

“And your invitation to the gallows.”

“I’m not stupid.” He sheathed his weapon. “I must go.” He kissed her forehead and left the tent.

“By Odin,” she whispered. “What will he do?”

“Kara is an unnecessary risk, and quite frankly, milord, affects your judgment,” Tayte commented.

Aaron gave his captain a grim look. He didn’t recall asking him for his opinion. But to be fair, since Aaron had confined Kara to her tent, she’d refused to open up to him anymore. She’d launched as competent an emotional campaign against him as any enemy could. When he visited, she either sat as motionless as a stone or begged to go home.

To make matters worse, he’d received word that Erik the Bald was on an extended visit in Oslo. Aaron would be damned if he sent her home. Gunter failed to protect her before, why should he trust his capabilities now? No, she’d remain here until proper arrangements could be made. At least Erik knew she was alive. The jarl’s correspondence had been short. The elder remained in Aaron’s debt for rescuing his daughter. And he assured Aaron she’d suffer an adequate punishment once they were reunited. What sanction awaited? Every time he mulled it over, he imagined an arranged marriage. Not the future Aaron envisioned for the woman he loved. But if she wouldn’t trust him now, how could he keep her from such a fate?

Tayte seated himself next to Aaron. The soldier opened two ledgers. The first contained personal information on every recruit, the second was a detailed record of expenditures. Aaron submerged himself in the numbers. He scanned each column; weapons, food, wages... The costs were mounting. But King Olaf hadn’t cut them offyet. The treasury had limits. Halfway through his evaluation, a messenger arrived.

The boy bowed awkwardly. “I bring news from Alesund.”

Aaron peered over the ledger. The lad carried bad news. “Speak.”

“Jarl Gustav Undset, a Christian lord south of Alesund, requests your help.”

Why did dispatchers insist on announcing their master’s faith? It made no difference to Aaron; he was tasked to protect all Norwegians. “What happened?”

“My father’s chapel was ransacked six days ago. Holy relics were stolen. We stopped them before they could destroy everything.”

“Who?” Aaron raised a brow.

“Pagans.”

“You set eyes on the guilty?”Proof. That’s what Aaron needed. Prejudice served no purpose. “Or are you making dangerous assumptions?”

The lad didn’t move. “Christians wouldn’t ransack a church.”

“Christ,” Aaron said. He couldn’t risk anyone finding out which altar he really worshipped at yet. As far as the nobility was concerned, he was a Christian. And he was bound by oath to protect their interests—including their false relics.

“You are sure there’s no reason to suspect your brethren are envious of the wealth you have?” Anyone could be guilty. “Make no further allegations until we’ve investigated fully. Understand?”

The boy’s glance shot to Tayte.

“What did they take?” Aaron continued.

“Saint Olav’s finger.”

Idiot. Aaron stifled his laughter. Declared a saint after his death, it was impossible for Olav Haraldsson to have as many fingers and toes as the Christians claimed. At least thirty parishes in Norway exhibited his digits. Parishioners would lie and steal, sacrifice life and limb to keep their vestiges safe.

“Did they steal anything else?”