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‘You expect him to rule in your favour, Sea King? The jaarl is a man of law who won’t rule in favour of whoever pays him the most gold.’
Hrolf froze. The split heartbeat of hesitation allowed Sayrid to twist her arm out of his grip and start sprinting for the river.
Behind her, she heard the pounding of his footsteps, but she kept on running.
Five steps from the river, a heavy weight landed on her shoulder and spun her around. ‘Try that again and I won’t be responsible for the consequences.’
His furious face was inches from hers. Their breath laced and she was aware of his muscle-bound arms imprisioning her.
Sayrid forced her shoulders to relax as she scanned the darkened river. She spotted her brother’s rowboat, moving downstream. All she had to do was to let the current take her—the backup plan she’d worked out with Regin.
She leant forward. Her breasts accidently brushed his chest, making her body tingle. For one long heartbeat, an intense awareness of his lips filled her. If she slanted her head slightly to the right, their mouths would meet. She checked the movement with less than a breath to spare. ‘I will take the consequences.’
Ducking, she wriggled free from his now-slack arm and tore the few yards to the river. Wading into thigh-deep water, she executed a perfect dive.
Hrolf stared at the dark river, willing the woman to resurface. He’d miscalculated badly. His entire being had wanted to taste her deep red lips and he’d allowed her to escape. He had no business calling himself a sea king if he behaved like an untried warrior who had never bedded a woman before.
Then he saw her head break out of the water as she drifted towards a small rowing boat. Someone pulled her aboard. Over the water, the sounds of laughter floated back.
Hrolf tightened his grip on his sword. ‘This is the beginning, Valkyrie, not the end. No one plays me for a fool.’
Chapter Two (#ulink_1f52588a-e2e2-5e66-8b64-c552f47d1abb)
Sayrid’s soft kid boots made a satisfying sound as she strode towards the Assembly Hall. She wore her new leather trousers with the dark green tunic Auda had made for her last birthday belted over them. Her cape swung slightly. Everything was designed to give the impression of supreme confidence, even though her insides churned.
She had considered all eventualities. Blodvin wore her morning gift of two arm rings and a necklace. At Sayrid’s insistence, Blodvin had arranged her clothes so the pregnancy was evident to even the most casual observer. Blodvin and Regin were both prepared to swear a solemn oath that Regin was her chosen husband and she wished for no other. Surely Bloodaxe would do the decent thing and not demand Regin be declared outlaw for stealing away his only child.
Once the jaarl had declared in her favour, she would invite everyone to the wedding feast. Even now, the servants prepared the meat under Auda’s expert direction. And it would be a celebration of the joining of two families, not a lament for Regin’s death.
‘I’d wondered if you’d show, Valkyrie.’
Sayrid missed a step. The trouble was that she had momentarily forgotten about him and the probability of his being at the Assembly. And now the man who had recently featured in her dreams leant against the side of the building. Why was he not sitting quietly next to Ingvar Bloodaxe or, better still, departing from these shores in search of another bride?
‘Hrolf Eymundsson.’ She met his dark blue gaze without flinching. ‘Little point in arriving early and wasting my time.’
‘Sayrid Avildottar.’ He inclined his head so that his light brown hair flowed down his face, hiding his eyes. ‘Valkyrie suits you better. After all, you are the shield maiden who controls the magically secured harbour. How many raiders have lost their ships trying?’
‘Three came to grief after my father’s death, but it was more poor seamanship on their part than magic on mine.’
‘That is not what the gossips say.’
Her heart gave a little flutter, but then it sank. She knew what the gossips said about her and her lifestyle. ‘I’m flesh and blood, not one of Odin’s handmaidens. A series of blockades guard the harbour.’
‘Yet you swim. I hear rumours of your skill with the sword as well. Bloodaxe curses your name and fabled prowess on a daily basis.’
The rumours normally never bothered her, but a small part of her wished that he had remarked on her skills as a trader or navigator. She shook her head. Next she’d be hoping he found her attractive. Her limitations in the dainty and feminine part of life were as legendary as her skill with the sword.
‘I was never very good with the needle. Far too big and clumsy. My stepmother used to despair,’ she said, forcing her neck muscles to relax. If Hrolf thought he was going to humiliate her, he had another think coming. She’d long ago left behind the stringy girl who hid in the shadows praying that no one would notice her. She courted notoriety as it kept her ships and men safe. ‘The sword suits me better.’
He pushed off the wall, causing the dark blue velvet cloak he wore to swirl about his narrow hips. On his arms, there were at least three heavy gold arm rings. Everything about him proclaimed that he was indeed as successful as the gossips implied.
‘Was that what the other night was about, adding to your legend?’
‘Preserving my family’s honour.’ She paused. ‘Perhaps a foreign concept to a sea king, but it counts for much in Svear.’
His eyes filled with ice. ‘Why did you kidnap Bloodaxe’s daughter?’
‘Harsh, when the woman went freely.’
‘People whisper that with one wave of your hand, the locks fell open and you used the full moon to cast a spell on her, turning her into a swan so she could escape undetected.’
‘If I’d done half the things claimed of me, I doubt I’d be standing before you. I’d be flying through the air to Constantinople on a pair of wings, as Kettil consistently refuses me a large enough ship to make that voyage,’ she said crisply, giving him the stare that normally managed to send men running for cover.
‘Why did you do it?’ he asked in a low voice. ‘The truth, because any games you choose to play, I will win. I make you that promise.’
Her mouth went dry and she bit back the words asking him what sort of games he had in mind. Instead she settled her features into a scowl. ‘My brother and his chosen bride deserved to be together.’
‘Any particular reason?’
She jerked her head towards where Blodvin and Regin stood waiting to hear their fate. ‘They make a handsome couple.’
‘Your brother should have challenged for the right. What good is a man if he cannot protect his wife and children?’
‘Blodvin made her own choice.’ Sayrid ignored his remark. ‘No man cheats my family.’
Hrolf’s eyes became deadly. ‘Strong words. How did precisely Ingvar the Bloodaxe cheat?’
‘When a bride price is agreed and paid, one expects the bride to remain available as long as she is willing.’
‘Payments can be returned.’
Sayrid gave a soft cough. ‘Next time ask around. Better still, ask the woman if she wants to be married to you.’
He slammed his fist against his open palm. ‘Bloodaxe swore there was no impediment.’
She rolled her eyes. It amazed her that a warrior such as Hrolf Sea-Rider would be inclined to believe Ingvar Flokison. But he’d been away in the East for a long time and perhaps had not thought to listen to gossip.
‘A man who constantly delivers light sacks of wool should always have his word tested.’ She poured scorn into her voice. ‘Didn’t you think to listen to the rumours and gossip before entering into negotiations? And you, a sea king with a reputation for quick thinking.’
A dimple flashed in the corner of his mouth. ‘Women’s talk around the distaff and weaving loom?’
‘Men gossip far more than women. They just like to think they don’t.’
‘Truly?’
Sayrid ground her teeth. Hrolf was precisely like any other Northman—women were there to provide food, drink and pleasure only. She clenched her fists and regained control of her temper. ‘Listening and heeding dockside chatter saved my ship on my first voyage. We went a different way home and avoided the sea raiders.’
He instantly sobered. ‘What else did you learn, Valkyrie?’
Even now the hardship of that first voyage rolled over her—the storms at sea, the lodestone being washed overboard and the men who had tried to cheat her simply because she was a woman. And the others who gawped at her height.
‘Things far too countless to mention.’ She lifted her chin and adopted her no-nonsense voice. ‘I wish you good day, Hrolf Eymundsson. My family needs me to make this right.’
‘You care for your family more than your life.’
Sayrid shrugged. ‘You’ll find another bride, particularly as I’ve arranged for a feast after the Assembly to celebrate the marriage. I can suggest a name or two—women who are not spoken for and whose kinsmen are honest. I wouldn’t want you to make the same mistake twice. Feuds ruin families.’
His piercing blue gaze locked on her mouth. ‘I make my own choices. Without interference.’
Her stomach flipped over. Nearly kissing him the other night had been a mistake. She should have gone for another approach like stamping on his foot. ‘I had only meant to be helpful.’
‘I look forward to speaking more after the Storting...if you intend on being helpful.’
Sayrid frowned. What sort of game was he playing? Men didn’t flirt with her. Perhaps he did really want introductions. Her heart panged slightly.
She made a breezy gesture. ‘We’ve no quarrel, you and I.’
His hand descended onto her shoulder. The touch seared through her wool tunic, making her insides do a giddy loop. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’
She moved away from him and sought to dampen down the bubbly feeling. This warrior was the same as the rest of them, worse even. Her father’s long-ago words about how she had little to recommend herself even to a desperate man echoed in her brain. ‘May you find the bride you truly desire, Sea-Rider. I wish you a long life and prosperity.’
‘And you, Shield Maiden.’
* * *
The large hall teemed with people. After so many years being in the East, Hrolf was pleased to be amongst his own people again. He’d done the right thing to come here and strengthen his alliance with Jaarl Kettil. This was the sort of place where a man could put down roots and where his daughter could be brought up safely.
‘Where did you get to?’ Bragi, Hrolf’s best friend and helmsman, asked in an undertone. ‘Jaarl Kettil remarked on your absence. I thought we were here so you can identify the man who stole your bride as Ingvar the Bloodaxe requested. We want this resolved.’
Hrolf made a temple with his fingers. Sayrid was correct. Unfortunately. He’d forgotten his father’s story about Bloodaxe and his failure to provide promised weapons on the battlefield until Sayrid mentioned the light wool sacks. And Bloodaxe’s daughter was very obviously pregnant. There was much more to this than he’d first considered. What was really going on? ‘I’m making sure that I understand the truth before I decide which cause to support. A man’s life is at stake.’
‘Who is that?’ Bragi asked as Sayrid marched to the front. Her cloak swung slightly, revealing a few curves, if one bothered to look. ‘Can anyone introduce me? Pray to the gods she is single.’
Hrolf frowned. Bragi would barely come up to Sayrid’s shoulder.
‘Sayrid Avildottar, shield maiden and in charge of the largest estate in the area after mine.’ Kettil spoke before Hrolf had a chance to answer.
‘Then she is single.’
‘Her father declared that she will marry no man unless he first defeats her in combat.’ The jaarl smiled slightly. ‘It suits my purpose to have her sword under my command, but she grows bold and makes demands. She wants to lead a felag to Byzantium. Imagine.’
‘Thor’s beard, she is tall,’ Bragi answered and added a slightly crude remark about the shape of her legs.
Hrolf fought against the urge to pummel his friend to the ground. It made no sense why he should feel protective of Sayrid. He barely knew the woman. For him, women were objects of beauty to be enjoyed while on shore. His uncle had taught him that lesson after his father’s death. The way to prosperity was never to allow a woman to interfere with the important business of making a fortune.
‘Only a brave or extremely foolish man makes remarks like that in her hearing.’ Kettil moved his finger in a slitting motion across his throat. ‘She takes offence easily. Her first voyage saw her defend her honour more than once.’
Bragi blanched. ‘I will remember that.’
‘Have many tried to win her hand?’ Hrolf asked. ‘Or was it only old men and beardless boys who tried?’
‘What, and face the ignominy of losing to a woman?’ Kettil shook his head. ‘If all my warriors were like her, I would be king of Svear and Götaland, instead of a jaarl in a backwater.’
‘There is good...but I’m exceptional.’ Hrolf permitted his lips to turn up. Sayrid the Proud was about to learn an important lesson.
* * *
The flock of butterflies that had settled in Sayrid’s stomach had turned into a herd of rampaging reindeer now that the Storting had started. Ingvar the Bloodaxe and his wife certainly looked the part of distraught parents. She risked a glance at where Hrolf Eymundsson sat with an impassive face.
‘Regin Avilson stole my daughter from me,’ Bloodaxe began with a distinct whine in his voice. ‘He took her from my farm without my permission. He had no right to set foot on my property. He should be declared an outlaw and my daughter returned. Hrolf Eymundsson was there. He will confirm that Regin Avilson forced my daughter to leave against her will.’
‘Objection!’ Sayrid cried. ‘Regin Avilson never set foot on Ingvar Flokison the Bloodaxe’s property. How could he have stolen her?’
‘If he didn’t, who did?’ Bloodaxe asked. ‘Who else set my daughter free from a locked barn?’
‘Why was your daughter locked up?’
‘I asked the question first! Who released my daughter from my barn? Who undid the lock?’
‘I did,’ Sayrid answered in a firm voice and stepped out in the centre of the room. All eyes turned towards her. She stood taller with her shoulders back, never allowing her gaze to falter. ‘I wanted to see if there was any truth to the rumour that Ingvar Flokison had decided against honouring our agreement of last spring. Going towards the farmhouse, I heard a cry for help. I unbarred the door. Blodvin Ingvardottar then ran out of the barn and down to the river. What happened after that, I couldn’t say, but she found her way to my farm and my brother, demanding sanctuary!’
‘Did anyone see you?’ the jaarl asked, giving her a hard stare. ‘Can anyone verify this?’
‘Hrolf Eymundsson did. We spoke briefly.’ Sayrid focused her gaze on Hrolf. ‘He can confirm my story. And once Blodvin was safe, I sent word to you. I’ve not attempted to hide anyone or anything.’
‘Time to hear from the independent witness,’ the jaarl declared. ‘What happened on that night, Hrolf Eymundsson? Give your impartial account.’
There was a sudden intake of breath and everyone turned towards Hrolf. His dark blue velvet cloak shimmered with self-importance. The torchlight caught the gold of his arm rings. Everything about him proclaimed that here was a man who was accustomed to power. Sayrid concentrated on his face and willed him to tell the truth.
‘I encountered Sayrid Avildottar,’ he said, inclining his head. ‘There was a woman with her who ran off, but it was dark and I could not see her face. Later Sayrid went to the river and I lost her. These are the only people I encountered before Ingvar Bloodaxe arrived. I swear this on my sacred honour.’
Bloodaxe started bleating and whining about how it had to have been Regin, but the jaarl’s face grew ever more stern. Sayrid’s shoulders relaxed. Hrolf had told the truth. Regin was safe. And Bloodaxe would not start a feud with her.
‘If Regin Avilson did not capture your daughter and she ran away of her own accord, you’re not entitled to a fine,’ the jaarl pronounced. ‘Who among you believes that Blodvin Ingvardottar ran away of her own accord?’
Everyone except for Bloodaxe and his closest companions raised their hand.
‘Your request for compensation is denied, Bloodaxe.’
Bloodaxe stroked his chin. ‘As my daughter has run away, she is dead to me. I shouldn’t have to provide a dowry for her.’
‘She has married Regin Avilson. There was a prior agreement that they would wed and the bride price was paid,’ Sayrid argued. ‘The dowry includes all of the next bay.’
‘Why would anyone pay a dowry for a dead woman?’ Bloodaxe said as his wife sniffled noisily next to him. ‘My daughter ceased to exist the instant she decided to run. And her maid has been dealt with.’
Sayrid clenched her fists and concentrated on breathing steadily. Silently she promised to have the maid found and brought to her hall. She longed to draw her sword and start the feud for real, but if she did, she’d be made into an outlaw and all her lands would be forfeit. Some day she’d make him pay for the insult. ‘If that is the way you wish it. I would ask that Ingvar Bloodaxe pays me passage for the wool sacks my ships carried this summer as part of the bride price. Who would pay a bride price for a dead woman?’
The jaarl nodded. ‘A fair request. You will do this by the next Assembly, Ingvar. The matter is now closed and justice has been done.’
