And the lantern never left.
Though his renditions had brought no one to his rescue, he would try again—only when his heart was not so tender. The singing had affected him more than he would have imagined, stirring up recollections from a lifetime ago.
Absolon came in the afternoon with food and water, tending to him as he would a caged animal. He didn’t meet his eyes, merely looked at buckets, at manacles, at pieces disjointed from the whole, and not at the one they were all connected to. Ragnar had never felt more invisible.
Words pricked his tongue, eager to leap forth and ensnare Absolon, but he didn’t know which ones to use. He couldn’t talk about the singing without it sounding like he wanted his approval. He didn’t want to lead him into a fight that could push him away. He’d come two days in a row; breaking that streak could prove deadly.
Though Absolon ignored him, he studied Absolon. He forced himself to not linger on his broad build, on his thick arms and coarse hands, on the expanse of his chest and shoulders, the muscles that rippled beneath his clothes, the firmness of his legs or the solid roundness of his ass. All that was as much as it ever was. Even in his studied avoidance of focusing on them, snatches of memories of running his hand across Absolon’s naked body, gripping hard to his wrists and pinning him down with all his strength as he willingly submitted, of his hands at his throat—
Snatches that Ragnar had to dash aside in the hope Absolon didn’t see how the crotch of his trousers tightened.
No, what he was meant to be looking at was the effect of the songs, the effect of killing thirty men, the effect of being alone with a man he despised. He focused.
Absolon’s smile was gone.
That revelation struck him like Thor’s thunderbolt.
Thinking back, he hadn’t seen Absolon smile the entire time, but he’d had other things to worry about. Now, however…
Gone with the smile was also the happiness that had once filled Absolon’s body to bursting. From what Absolon had once told him of his past, there had been little cause for mirth, yet he had always found something to smile at, such as the gentle greeting of his horses and the grudging affection of others. No matter how many times Absolon was spurned, by family, by friends, by lovers, he held onto the hope that next time would be better.
When had Absolon last smiled?
Absolon’s eyes swam in sadness, his body was tensed and rigid, he was barely capable of holding himself together.
“Stop staring at me,” Absolon growled and turned his head so their eyes finally met.
“Is that to be a new condition of my captivity? You may as well blindfold me.”
“How about I pluck out your eyes instead?”
You wouldn’t. He tried to believe that.
“What happened to you, Absolon?”
“You dare ask me that?”
“I do. I want to know.”
“You no longer have the right.”
“It can’t be easy for you here, with no one to talk to.”
“Who says I’m alone?”
“Oh? There is someone else here, after all? Another jailer? Another prisoner?”
The corner of Absolon’s mouth twitched.
Ragnar waved away the need for him to answer, taking the pleasure of having Absolon flustered into his heart, though it didn’t ring with as much joy as he expected. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve been listening. I know you’re here alone. That must be difficult for you.”
“I don’t need anyone.”
“Come now, we know each other better than that. That’s why you had the dog.”
Absolon’s eyes flared.
Ragnar ducked his head. “I am sorry about that. I didn’t mean for it to run away.”
“His name was Trogen.”
“Sorry, again. I was only trying to escape; you can’t blame me for that.”
“I blame you for a lot of things, including the loss of my dog.”
“He’ll return. I’m certain of it. You take good care of your animals.”
Absolon looked over his shoulder, perhaps thinking of the dog and wondering where it was, and if he should go look for it.
“Who brought you here, Absolon?”
He spun round. “No one. This is my place. It’s for me and me alone.”
“Has it always been just you?”
“Yes.”
“Then where did you learn how to…you know…?” He put up a hand, slightly bent the end of his fingers, and opened his mouth like he was a monster or attacking wolf.
“That’s none of your business.”
“I think it is.” He stood. “It’s how you’re going to kill me, isn’t it? How does it work?”
“I’m not talking to you about it.”
“What happens when you do it?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
“But I want to know now.”
“All you need to know is that you will get what you deserve.”
“Whatever has happened to you has obviously made you stronger and more fearful. Isn’t that enough?”
“You might like being feared but I don’t. Because of you, I have been turned into this…thing. I am cursed and it is because of you.”
“Who cursed you?”
“Someone else I was wrong to trust.”
“Then they should be here in my place. I did not do this to you.”
“If you hadn’t left me behind, then he wouldn’t have found me. I wouldn’t be like this. I would have been beside you and we would—” He stuffed his words back down his throat, closed his mouth, and breathed deep through his nose. “What’s done is done and you will pay the price for your part in it.” Absolon headed for the door.
“Then let me pay for it with money. I promise you can have all of it. Use it to buy yourself a whole herd of horses and a pack of hounds. There’s enough there to keep you and your farmstead for fifty years.”
“Fifty years? And what of beyond that? What will become of me then?” Absolon grew agitated from the idea and fidgeted and fretted like he was the one trapped in a cell. Ragnar had exaggerated the depth of his coffers, but surely Absolon did not believe he would live much beyond his seventieth year. Very few farmers ever did. But it seemed a question that bothered him immensely.
“There will be someone for you, Absolon. Someone who treats you the way you deserve to be treated. Someone who loves you.”
The words shook as they came out of Ragnar’s mouth, but they stiffened Absolon to stone and his gaze narrowed. The agitation fled.
“Your money is worthless, and your attempts at bargaining are clumsy and insulting. You will die, Ragnar. And that is the end of it. Hold your tongue and keep your own counsel until then, and pray God forgives you because I sure as Hell won’t.” He slammed the door.
That night, Ragnar sang again, his breath clouding as it left his body. The glow of the lantern appeared, but Absolon did not demand he keep silent. And though the songs remained melancholy, Ragnar’s heart filled with hope.
Chapter 4
Absolon delivered the next day’s rations without engaging in anything remotely resembling conversation. No shadows darkened his eyes but the stooping of his shoulders, the lank fall of his blond hair, revealed more about his state of mind than any words. Absolon had always been obvious. No matter how much Ragnar goaded him into talking, peppered with gentle and caring questions about his wellbeing, Absolon completed his tasks like a ghost locked in the work of a doomed eternity.