by A. E. Rayne
‘You can’t keep secrets,’ he breathed. ‘Not now Alari’s watching over me. You think she’ll let you keep secrets from me after she brought us back together. Reunited us?’
‘That may be true, but I still can’t see Lotta. If Alari can, she can tell you, but I can’t!’ Alys felt cross and scared and cold and worried about Magnus and tired of everything.
She wanted to scream.
Arnon turned away from her. ‘You will try harder then.’ His voice was threatening and heavy, like a thumping hammer. ‘You will try much harder, for Lotta has been without us for too long. We need to find her. When we arrive in Orvala, we need to find her quickly.’
Mirella woke with a start.
And hopping out of bed, she shivered.
‘Get up!’ she called to Lotta, reaching for her dress, which hung over the end of her bed. She had left it out the night before, knowing that today would be the day. It was not her newest gown, though the green colour suited her, matching her eyes. It was made of thick wool and warm. ‘Hurry now. We must prepare for our guests!’
Lotta lifted her head, eyes closed, mouth dry. ‘Guests?’ She had dreamed of her mother, and she felt the loss of her, the dark cloud of fear descending upon her again.
‘Yes, guests,’ Mirella said, hurrying on her dress. The fire had been set by servants, who had been in and out of the chamber early. Ignoring the inviting flames, though, Mirella sat down on her bed, slipping on a new pair of leather boots. They were a gift from Tarl, and she smiled, amused by how eager he was to please her.
Then frowning, she tried to will those feelings away.
Feelings for Tarl would only get in the way of what she needed him to do.
She could not fear for him, or care for him, or...
She just had to help him succeed.
Lotta scrambled up from her bed by the fire. ‘You mean my mother?’
Mirella swallowed, standing. ‘Yes, your mother.’
Lotta felt odd, and she could sense that Mirella felt much the same, though likely for very different reasons. ‘But my father? He is coming too.’
‘Yes, your father is... looking after her.’ Mirella was still seething that Alari had chosen to get in her way, bringing Arnon de Sant back from the dead, sending him here with Alys. It was hard to see that they were on the same side anymore. Alari had always acted to further her own interests, never the cause. And now, with the Vettels gone, Mirella was growing concerned that she would stir up even more trouble.
She needed to talk to her, to bring her around.
Lotta shook her head, tears burning her eyes. ‘He’s not looking after her!’ she sobbed, thinking of how long she had been without her mother’s arms holding her close. ‘My father was dead, and I was glad! I was glad!’
Mirella stared at her, unmoved. ‘You will need something warmer, I think. Orvala is an unforgiving sort of place. I’ll find Bathilda. She can take you down to the markets, find you something to wear. I need to see the lord.’
Lotta stopped crying, staring up at her grandmother with blurry eyes, mouth hanging open.
Mirella straightened up, turning away from the tear-stained girl as she headed to the door. ‘I’ll send Bathilda. You get dressed. It’s early, so I think breakfast, then a new cloak. A better fitting hat too.’ And nodding, she slipped a key out of her purse, unlocking the door. ‘Hurry now. You don’t want to get cold!’
Berger Eivin rolled over with a clanging head, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He coughed, trying to open an eye, wanting to know where he was, and more importantly, wanting to find something to drink.
‘Here,’ said a voice he didn’t recognise.
And blinking violently, trying to force his eyes open against the will of his aching head, Berger looked up in surprise at a red-haired woman, who was most certainly not Ilene Gislar. ‘Oh.’ He saw the wooden cup in her hand and gratefully moved towards it, trying to sit up.
She sat down on the bed, naked. ‘You promised me gold,’ she whispered, leaning towards him with a wink. ‘Do you remember? Last night, you promised me a chest full of gold.’
Berger swallowed, relieved to feel some moisture in his throat, and after draining the cup, he glanced around, seeing the unfamiliar chamber, his eyes quickly returning to the unfamiliar woman. She wasn’t the most beautiful creature he’d ever ended up in bed with, though she had enormous breasts, and he was quickly distracted. ‘I did? Think that might have been all the ale,’ he laughed, his voice deep and croaky. ‘There’s no gold in Slussfall that I can find. Think the Vettels were just playing games, hoping nobody would find out it was all just a lie. That they were as poor as the rest of us.’ He held out his cup, hoping for more ale, wondering what had happened between him and Ilene.
Last thing he remembered was an argument about Sigurd Vilander.
He shook his head, quickly stopping as the pain became blinding.
‘But what if I told you where it was?’ the woman murmured, edging closer.
All thoughts of Ilene and Sigurd and his aching head gone now, Berger sat up straight, drawing his attention away from those pendulous breasts, staring into the woman’s eyes.
21
Sigurd and his crew rose with the sun, exploring the farmstead through deep snow. They wanted to ensure that they were leaving well-stocked, so their search of the property was thorough as they retrieved weapons and warm furs, cloaks and tinderboxes; everything they could find for what promised to be an arduous journey to Orvala.
It was a grey morning, with little wind, and the stables were on fire, crackling brightly.
‘One way to keep warm,’ Ollo grinned, watching the burning wood collapse, though he wasn’t happy about leaving that steam house behind.
‘Come on, come on! We must find Alys before it’s too late!’ Eddeth insisted, stomping past him in one of Elfa’s cloaks, which made her feel uncomfortable. Itchy. As though the foulness of the woman was living in the wool itself. And unable to get that image out of her mind, Eddeth decided to trick herself into thinking that it wasn’t Elfa’s cloak at all but one she had taken from the former lady of the farmstead. Though the thought of wearing a murdered woman’s cloak made her feel even worse, and head down, she shuffled away, muttering to herself.
Ollo shook his own head, turning after her, to where a row of horses waited, looking confused. They’d been shut away in the stables for weeks, and the brightness of the snow was a shock to them. They appeared stunned, weak, barely moving.
Jonas and Vik were hard at work, loading small sacks of grain into their saddlebags. The horses in the paddocks were in better condition, and those would be their pack-horses, carrying their supplies. In the end, they’d decided to take all of the horses, knowing that the journey would be challenging, and the horses likely wouldn’t make it if they were ridden for any length of time.
Though likely some wouldn’t make it at all.
‘Are we ready, then? Eddeth?’ Sigurd called, mounting his grey mare, who looked as cold as he felt, head drooping, nose in the snow.
Ludo boosted a red-faced Eddeth into her saddle, and she grinned at Sigurd. ‘I am, though it will be hard to leave that steam house behind!’
Ollo agreed. And he wasn’t the only one.
Aldo looked back at it with some longing. His face was covered in a myriad of stitches, his wounds stinging, though the bitterly cold weather was quickly numbing his face.
‘Don’t worry!’ Sigurd called, motioning for the rest of the crew to head for the horses. ‘When we get back to Ottby, it’s the first thing I’ll talk to Reinar about!’
Eddeth smiled, thinking of Ottby, her cottage, and Rigfuss. ‘Well, then, let’s go and find Alys, for the sooner we rescue her and the children, the sooner we can all go home!’
Despite a nagging desire to head north, Reinar made his way down the busy pier, eyes on Fury, preparing to head south.
Home. Back to Ottby.
Berger’s naked companion had been friendly with one
of the men who’d helped Hakon bury the gold, though that man had mysteriously died not long after, along with his companions. She had kept the secret ever since, not wanting to end up dead herself, but with the Vettels gone, it had just been a matter of finding the right person to share it with.
So, after a few more cups of ale, she’d led Berger into the forest, where she’d revealed that the gold was buried in a series of tunnels leading off the cave Jonas and Vik had hidden out in.
Berger was giddy with delight, almost forgetting about his throbbing head. And after breaking the news to a speechless Reinar, they had hurried their men into the forest, where they’d spent the morning retrieving the treasure. And now they were further delayed while the thirty-two chests of gold were loaded onto the ships, wanting to ensure that every last coin was secured.
‘We’ll take good care of Karolina,’ Falla smiled, walking Reinar towards her husband, who was talking to Bjarni and Berger; all three men trying to decide where each chest should be placed, and not one of them agreeing with the other. ‘You can tell the king that she’ll stay with us.’
‘I’m glad,’ Reinar said, meaning it. ‘She looks like she needs to be taken care of.’ He stopped, adjusting his cloak so that his silver pin sat on his right shoulder. ‘And your husband?’ Reinar stared into Falla’s eyes, which were beautiful and full of fire. ‘He must prove himself now. I’ve spoken to him, but you know him better than me. Better than anyone, I imagine. Will he be loyal to Ake?’
Falla didn’t reply straight away because she wanted her answer to matter to both her and Reinar Vilander. The wind gusted past them, and she swept her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ears. ‘Lief is loyal above all things. He never went against Hakon, though he wanted to. His oath means everything to him. Whether it’s to me, to you, or to the king. And now he’s sworn to be loyal to Ake, so he will not turn away from that promise.’ She said it with pride, tears in her eyes. ‘He won’t.’
Reinar smiled. ‘He’s lucky to have you, Falla. Things would have turned out quite differently if you hadn’t been working so hard with Alys and Eddeth.’ And just the thought of Alys had Reinar’s mind wandering again.
Falla placed a hand on his arm, lifting her eyes to where Elin waited on board Fury with Ilene. ‘Alys and Eddeth are very resourceful women. Both of them. I saw what they could do, so don’t worry, they’ll be back.’
Reinar wanted to believe her.
But he shook his head, refusing to think about Alys at all.
Ottby.
He was going back to Ottby, to be the lord, with his wife.
‘Stay safe, Falla Gundersen,’ he said, bobbing his head. ‘Lady of Slussfall.’
She grinned, delight bubbling over. And then, hand over her mouth, she turned away from him, shuffling back down the slippery pier.
Lief watched her go, barely listening to Bjarni, who had returned to fussing about his lack of ships.
‘You’ll need to get your weavers working on more sails. You might be able to knock up a few ships over winter, but those sails will take some time.’
Lief nodded.
‘And arrows,’ Berger put in. ‘You don’t appear to have many of those.’
‘But there’ll be time,’ Bjarni insisted. ‘Sea’s almost frozen. There’ll be time.’
Lief hoped he was right.
‘Ready?’ Reinar asked, watching Elin, who smiled at him, impatience in her eyes. ‘Best we get going while the wind’s in our favour. Keep Bolli happy.’
‘Don’t think he’ll be happy either way,’ Bjarni decided. ‘He’s still wishing he went with Sigurd. I don’t think he trusts Falki to keep Dagger in one piece.’
‘Ha! Well, I imagine Holgar feels much the same about Bolli taking Fury’s helm. At least he’ll be lying right behind him, barking away.’ Reinar tried to smile, but Holgar was still in a bad way after the loss of his arm, and Elin didn’t look pleased with his progress.
‘I wish you a fast journey home,’ Lief said. ‘Hopefully, Ulfinnur will look kindly upon you.’
Reinar hoped the same. ‘Prepare the fort and wait for word. I’m sure you’ll hear what Ake thinks about everything soon, so don’t give him any reason to worry.’
Life was a constant surprise, Lief thought, staring at Reinar Vilander, busy ordering him about as though he was one of his men; remembering when he’d stood on the pier with Hakon and Ivan, making plans to defeat him.
In his heart, he’d always known it wasn’t right.
That it wasn’t meant to be.
But it was only Falla who had brought his fears into the light, and he almost smiled, thinking of how expertly she had crafted a new future for them both. ‘I won’t, and I look forward to seeing him soon.’
‘Good, well, let’s get to sea before I change my mind and head back inside. I quite fancy some more of that roast boar.’ Reinar saw Bjarni’s eyes glistening, turning towards the fort, and he laughed. ‘Come on, I’m sure you can give Rilda some ideas when we get home.’ He patted Bjarni on the back, nudging him towards Fury, so he could have a quiet word with Berger.
Berger would be sailing on Victory, which was quite appropriate given his last-minute success. ‘You did well,’ he admitted, hand on Berger’s shoulder. ‘Very well indeed. Ake will reward you generously, I’m sure, as will I. There’s nothing more valuable to a lord or a king than a determined oathsman. A man pig-headed enough not to give up when everything is weighed against him. You did well.’
And though Berger had no great need of praise or approval from Reinar Vilander, he couldn’t help the smile that brightened his handsome face. Then, seeing Ilene scowling at him, he sighed, knowing that there was likely some sort of reckoning coming his way. Soon. Though first, they had to get to Ottby.
Perhaps by then, she might have calmed down...
‘Why couldn’t we have taken some food? Anything at all!’ Ollo complained behind Eddeth, who rode with Vik and Ludo. ‘A goat? Bacon? Even some cheese!’
Sigurd could hear him from the front of their column, and he couldn’t have agreed more. He was starving, but he wanted to make progress before they thought about food. They had to take it slowly with the horses, and despite the bright sunshine, the snow was deep and challenging.
‘He’s always entertaining,’ Jonas supposed with a grin.
‘I’m surprised he hasn’t given up yet. Decided to go home. After the serpent, the shipwreck, the poison?’ Sigurd shook his head, feeling like giving up himself, but he saw an image of the raven, knowing he had to keep going.
‘Ollo seems to want another chance rather badly. Better to be in favour than cast out, whether it’s by kings or gods. I don’t blame him for that.’
Sigurd was beginning to come around to that idea himself. ‘And what do you make of what’s happened to us, then? I can’t get my head around it.’
Jonas felt weary. His head was still spinning from whatever that murderous shrew had put in the ale. ‘I think we’re walking a fine line between death and victory.’ And then he laughed. ‘As we always are!’ His horse was one of the biggest, a black stallion that hung his head as he walked, as though the effort of lifting it was too much for him. Reaching out, Jonas patted his neck, thinking of Klippr and Sindri. ‘It appears that some gods want us to succeed, and some want us to fail. So we just carry on and hope for the best.’
‘Doesn’t sound too comforting,’ Sigurd decided.
‘It’s always the way. We had to fight uphill to get the Vettels off the throne. Uphill, with shit raining down on us year after year, wondering if the gods were against us. And maybe they were, for a time, but eventually, our luck turned, and we were victorious. The gods will change their minds as they choose, so what can we do about that except carry on?’ Jonas sighed. ‘I want my family back. That’s all I know. Whatever Thenor thinks or Alari does, I just want my family back.’
Sigurd nudged his horse away from a snow-heavy bough. ‘We’ll find them. I believe that, Jonas. No matter what it
takes, we’ll find them.’
Jonas nodded, though he was barely listening.
He was imagining what he’d do to Arnon de Sant when he got hold of him.
Mirella’s eyes were fixed on the piers, though a thick mist crept across the water, making it mostly impossible to see who was coming and going.
‘Do you think we should have taken ships?’ Tarl laughed, watching her.
She turned back to him, a blank look in her eyes. ‘Of course not. Where you’re going, you’ll struggle to find any water that’s not frozen.’
‘Then what? Why are you staring out to sea? Are you waiting for someone? Someone else?’
Mirella didn’t say, but she squeezed Lotta’s hand tightly, staring at Solveigh, who’d been dragged out of bed and forced into warm clothes to bid her husband goodbye.
‘I may find a new wife while I’m gone,’ Tarl mused, following her gaze. The constant tears and the wailing, raving madness of his wife was becoming an irritant he didn’t feel inclined to suffer any longer.
‘She is carrying your child,’ Mirella said softly. ‘And that will give her purpose, just wait and see.’
Tarl’s black eyes lit up. ‘What? You never said. She never said!’ And he made to go towards his wife.
Mirella held out a hand, touching his shoulder. ‘She doesn’t know, but she will. While you’re gone, I will work on her. It will be different when you come back, I promise. It is as I told you. Solveigh will bear your son.’
‘And you, Mirella?’ Tarl suddenly noticed the little girl peering up at him, her mouth hanging open. ‘Go away,’ he muttered, pointing to where Sverri stood, keeping an eye on Solveigh. ‘Go and play with my wife. If you make her smile, I’ll give you a puppy.’
Mirella snorted, but Lotta took the lord at his word, eager to leave them both behind, and she slid her hand out of her grandmother’s, heading for Solveigh. Mirella watched her go. ‘It will not be so easy this time, Tarl. Not as it has been. You won’t just be able to bludgeon your way to victory.’