Chapter 30
Bard watched her as she swept back into the kitchen and laid the dough aside to rise. She balanced the baby on her hip as she quickly wiped the flour and sticky dough from Bain's hands and face. Then she calmly fed Sigrid as Bain skipped in circles around her and shouted. He shook his head in admiration. No matter was going to happen next, Bard thought, he couldn't lose her. He had to make sure of that.
'Right,' she announced when Sigrid had finally finished. 'Time for sleeping.'
Bain skidded to a halt. 'What? No! Why?'
'Bain,' Bard rumbled. 'You'll do as you're told.'
Bain scowled and dragged his feet all the way to the bedroom.
Freja emerged again ten minutes later. She came slowly over to the kitchen bench where Bard was waiting, and untied her apron, bunching it up and putting it on the table. She stared at it tiredly for a moment, then finally looked up to meet his eyes.
'Where do we begin?' she asked hollowly.
He could imagine what she was feeling. A burning curiosity – a need – to know the truth; but also, doubtlessly, terror at what would happen once she did know. She was desperate to know what at happened, but at the same time, she didn't want to know how much monster was in the man that she'd married. To be honest, he didn't really want to tell her.
'Hans,' he said hoarsely. 'I suppose we should start with Hans.'
'Very well,' she agreed. 'Hans.'
'Hans knows about everything now,' he began. 'I had to tell him.'
'Why?'
'Because I thought he was the man who attacked you,' he said shamefacedly. Freja stared at him, wide-eyed and at a loss for words. Bard explained. 'I accused him, the night that he and his family were here eating with us. But he denied it, and eventually I saw that I was wrong.'
'But I... I had told you that I would recognise the man if I ever saw him again,' Freja said slowly. She sounded confused, and more than a little wounded. 'You think I would have recognised Hans, and then kept it from you?'
'I didn't know,' he confessed, feeling his face burn. 'That's actually why I invited them all here, to see how you would act in his presence.'
Her eyebrows rose almost into her hairline. 'You think I don't trust you,' she asked with dangerous incredulity, 'so you resorted to trickery?'
Bard looked down. 'That isn't what we're talking about.'
'You could have asked me, Bard!'
'You were so sick!' he shot back defensively, ashamed at what he'd done but unwilling to admit it. 'And you would barely look at me, let alone talk to me! You'd withdrawn from everything, and from me!'
'So deception was your only other option?' she asked coldly.
She had excellent points, but he'd already known he was in the wrong. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, feeling his pulse slow a little with the effort. Then he looked up again.
'I will pay for what I did, however you want me to,' he said with forced calm. 'I promise I will. But we both know I've done worse than lie to you, so let's not fight about it now. We have other things to talk about, and I have put them off long enough.'
'Fine,' she said tightly. 'Fine. So you accuse Hans of attacking me, but then realised he was innocent.'
'Yes.'
'Of all the men here in Esgaroth who could have done it, why would you think it was Hans?'
'There's another man I work with on the boat,' Bard said. 'Jurgen.'
She nodded. 'You've mentioned him once or twice.'
'He knew that you were pregnant before I told him anything. And what's more, he knew that the baby wasn't mine.'
Freja sat down heavily on a stool behind the kitchen counter, her face growing pale and her hands beginning to shake. She clenched them in her lap.
'How?' she choked out.
Bard shook his head darkly. 'That's what Hans and I have been trying to find out,' he said. 'When I asked him how he knew that you were bearing another man's child, he said he'd heard Hans confessing that he assaulted you. Obviously, it was a lie.'
Freja exhaled shakily, staring down at the bench. 'But why would he lie about something like that? And how could he have even known I was pregnant in the first place?'
Bard felt a stab in his chest as he watched her trying to hold herself together. 'He's trying to cover up for whoever really did it,' he said quietly.
She choked on a sob, and Bard started toward her, reaching out to hold and comfort her. But before he could even touch her, she shook her head and stood back up again.
'I have more questions,' she said with shaky determination.
His shoulders dropped fractionally, and he nodded. 'Ask away.'
'How – how do you know that you killed my father?'
'Hans and I confronted Jurgen again last night,' he said. 'We cornered him, told him to tell us the truth this time, but…' he shook his head.
'But?' Freja asked in a small voice.
'But he knew that he was trapped, and he knew exactly how to get out of it, the weasel.'
'What did he do?'
'He asked me your full name, and I told him it was Freja Gustafsdottir. And then, as he had meant me to, I remembered that the name of the man that I had killed was Gustaf, and I realised that you were his daughter. And then I fled.'
Freja slumped in relief. 'Oh,' she said, burying her face in her hands. 'Oh…'
Bard stared, worried. 'What is it? Freja?'
'It's just… half of me thought you knew all along that you'd killed my father,' she said. 'I thought you had known who I was when you took me in, hidden the secret from me all these months… but you didn't.'
'Of course not!' Bard exclaimed, horrified. 'By the heavens, Freja, I don't think I'm the one with trust problems here! I would never have done something like that to you, I swear it on everything.'
She sighed deeply and looked up. 'And yet, you killed my father.'
It felt like an icy knife had been plunged into his heart. He tried not to, but he flinched at the words. 'I did,' he replied quietly. 'And Freja, if I could take back any one thing in my life, it would be that.'
There was a brief silence, and she shook her head. 'I don't understand. Before, when you told me that you killed a man, you said it was done in revenge for Karinne's murder.'
'That's right,' Bard said heavily. 'But it was done in anger, and it was unjustified. If I –'
'No, listen,' she said, frowning. 'My father may have been violent when he was very drunk. But he was not the type of man to kill.'
And am I the kind of man kills? Bard wanted to ask, but he kept his mouth shut. He was in the wrong here, and if he wanted to keep Freja, he couldn't go around starting fights that he was doomed to lose.
'What made you think that my father killed Karinne?' she asked.
'Because…' he frowned, thinking back to the period after Karinne's death. Much of it was a blur of fury, and the rest was angry grief mixed with cheap spirits. But his eyes widened as he remembered. 'Because of Jurgen.'
Freja stilled. 'What?'
'Because of Jurgen,' he repeated slowly. 'He told me. On Friday, the day that they found her body, he came and told me that all the taverns were abuzz with the rumour that Gustaf, the local drunk, had done it.'
He could see her mind working fast behind her eyes, and her frown deepened. 'She was killed on a Friday?' she asked.
'No, that's when they found her body,' he said tightly, the memories returning thick and fast now. 'She was killed the day before.'
'Then my father was not her killer,' Freja said triumphantly. 'Not one Thursday in fifteen years did my father leave his bed. It is impossible that it was him.'
Bard stared at her. 'Are you sure?' he asked sceptically.
'I am absolutely certain,' she said seriously. 'I know without a doubt that every single Thursday, from midnight to midnight, my father didn't move from our room.'
Bard stared at her, his heart suddenly thumping in his chest. 'I believe you.'
'My father did not kill Karinne,' Freja said with absolute conviction, 'but… Jurgen wanted you to think that he did.'
The facts were spinning around Bard's head, pieces of a puzzle that he was failing to put together.
'Why?' he muttered. 'What did Jurgen have to do with Gustaf?' He turned to her. 'Do you ever remember them speaking? Drinking together, perhaps?'
'I don't know if I've ever met him,' she said thoughtfully. 'I don't remember his name, and I don't know what he looks like, but my father did have many drinking friends whose names I didn't know.'
'Did your father never fight with anyone? Did he have any enemies?'
'Not enough to merit someone wanting him dead,' she said hopelessly. But then her eyes widened again. 'Unless…'
Bard leaned forward eagerly. 'Unless what?'
'Many people owed my father money,' she said. 'Jurgen could have been one of those. Perhaps he wanted my father gone, and his debt with it.'
'It's possible,' Bard agreed slowly, and then he sighed. 'But there's no way of knowing for sure.'
'There might be,' Freja said as she got to her feet, her eyes filling with grim determination. 'Get your coat. Bain needs a new pair of shoes.'
And one whole day later, here is the second half to the last chapter! I hope you are all enjoying – there isn't long until the mysteries are solved now!
S
