Beware of Jezebel

14. The queen's soliloquy

Ivar and Benedicta had quickly retreated from the hall, Hvitserk and Ubbe following them closely. Ivar was pale from anger; his arms grasped the crutches so tight they were shaking.

"I'll kill every last one of them, that's enough! Enough of hospitality, enough of patience and forgiveness! None of this should have happened in the first place. We'll do it the Viking way from now on," Ivar's eyes burned with a fiery intensity, and it was hard to tell if he was talking to Benedicta or to himself.

Benedicta resisted an urge to sigh: she knew Ivar wasn't angry on her- he was scared. And she thought she could not recall her husband being so afraid- the first time she saw actual fear was back when she had met her father and Ivar told her she could leave if she wanted. But then there was more sadness on his face than fear.

A guard approached them reluctantly. Wisely enough, he didn't try to engage with Ivar, but instead told Benedicta that a thrall from the kitchens wanted to talk to her. Hvitserk managed to hold Ivar back from storming to the kitchens, and Benedicta told the guard to bring the slave.

A wide-eyed and trembling woman was pushed to stand in front of Benedicta.

"Well? What did you want to say?" Benedicta asked.

"I saw a young man, not a Viking, near the jugs of milk just before dinner. That's all ma'am," the woman stammered, but Ivar managed to wrest himself out of Hvitserk's grasp.

"And you did nothing?!" he hissed, limping towards the woman. "I will kill you," he said, then turned to Benedicta. "And then burn all your Saxons at the stake. That's why they came here!" in a heartbeat he held Benedicta's face between his palms and whispered, but his voice was firm, "Saxon's can't be trusted. I know you want to, but they don't love you. I love you, but they don't. You are a good Saxon, but the rest of them... my father once made the same mistake- he trusted them. And your grandfather then slaughtered our settlement. I will not let them do that again."

Benedicta let him finish, then jerked her head violently from his hands and took a step back. "Collect yourself, Ivar," she said coldly and turned to the thrall. Leading her to a gap between the doors, she said "Do you see the person you saw in the kitchens?"

The woman pointed to Heolstor, a young man sitting next to his father- a round man with red face, named Odel. Benedicta sent the thrall back to the kitchens and the four of them entered the hall again, Benedicta in front, while Ivar limped in last. Benedicta stood a few steps away from the Saxons, who eyed her curiously.

"It was brought up to me that sir Heolstor is suspected of carrying out the poisoning," she stated dryly without any preamble.

The man's eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

"Pardon me, your majesty, but such claim is outrageous," he said fixing his vest and stood up straighter. Benedicta didn't notice when Ivar had walked close to the group and before she could respond, he had already swiftly pulled out his axe and pressed it against the man's neck.

"I don't need your confession to blood-eagle you," he growled. Ivar's eyes glinted menacingly, and blue sclera shone even brighter against his pale skin, which had begun to get red splotches. Feeling cold metal against his skin, the man whimpered. This time, however, Benedicta didn't make a single move to stop Ivar.

She waited for a heartbeat, just to see the man tense more with each passing second, then spoke again, keeping the same serene expression on her face. Ivar was the only one who detected undercurrent of anger in her tone, and that delighted him immensely, to the point of sneering while looking the terrified man in the eyes.

"You forgot that I am a healer. Judith didn't tell you that a few drops would be enough, did she? I wouldn't have noticed, but half a cup diluted the milk enough."