‘I’ve accomplished my task,’ he said, forcing the words from his throat. ‘Fulfilled the terms of our wager. Let my people go free, cancel the debt you claimed my brother owed you and provide me with the chest of gold.’
Kolbeinn’s eyes turned speculative as he glanced between Dagmar and himself. Aedan frowned. What had the wily old fox seen or guessed?
‘I hope this is also the start of a beautiful friendship, one where we both can fish in the same pond,’ Kolbeinn said.
Aedan’s control on his temper was stretched to breaking point. Friendship with the man? Kolbeinn had thought to have him murdered and harboured designs on his land. He failed to understand men from the north. ‘With respect, much can be accomplished as I, too, am a man of my word. I promised you your daughter and I’ve returned her. We part in friendship.’
‘I’m proud to have your friendship, Aedan mac Connall, laird of Kintra, and look forward to working together in the near future.’
Kolbeinn clapped his hands and gave the orders. Very shortly, a woman and two men were led into the hall. The woman gave a small cry and rushed over to Aedan. She lifted up her face towards him, like a flower seeking the sun. She was one of those small dark-haired women that his brother had preferred and an acclaimed beauty on Ile, but she paled beside Dagmar’s golden radiance.
‘Mhairi,’ Aedan said and ignored the woman’s blatant invitation to kiss her lips. Once, maybe, he would have, but not now. The only lips he wanted to touch belonged to the smouldering shield maiden beside him.
Mhairi gave a small pout and placed a slender hand on his arm. ‘I missed you dreadfully, but I had faith. I knew you’d return for me. A glorious future awaits us, Aedan.’
‘Kintra will have a brighter future.’ Aedan gritted his teeth and resisted the temptation to remove the hand talon by talon. Proof if he needed it of Mhairi’s marital intentions. Even as a young girl, she had been a scheming witch.
In truth, Dagmar had spoiled him for other women. Maybe in time he would find a woman to take as a wife, but right now the only woman he wanted in his bed was forbidden to him.
‘We were certain you were dead,’ Mhairi said, dabbing her eyes. ‘I couldn’t bear it, Aedan. Truly I could not. They were going to sell us in the spring. Possibly as early as Christmas or Jul as they call it.’
‘Hush now, you’re safe.’ He put an arm about her. ‘Never break down in front of the north. Remember our motto. You’ve been very brave this far.’
Mhairi laid her head against his chest. ‘Yes, I’m safe now with you here.’
Chapter Nine
Dagmar’s heart twisted as she watched the reunion between Aedan and the hostages. The dark-haired woman appeared very familiar towards him. The woman who had volunteered so that he could attempt to win the wager. He’d never satisfactorily explained why she had done that. Worst of all, he said her name with affection and kept an arm about her as he greeted the other hostages.
She struggled against the unfamiliar urge to scratch that woman’s eyes out. Drawing on all her training, she forced her face to be impassive. It wasn’t her problem if he cuddled with harpies. They’d finished. After this ceremony concluded, she’d never see him again, never contact him again. Yet she knew in her heart she’d cherish every scrap of news she’d glean about him and that she’d look for him on the battlefield. She placed a hand on her stomach and wished for a child, his child.
‘And the gold?’ Aedan asked. ‘The chest of gold?’
‘Gold?’ her father said, fingering his goatee. ‘Was there gold involved? I thought it was merely the debt cancelling and the hostages. You were gone longer than I had considered and my memory is hazy. My beloved wife had just perished.’
‘I understood gold was mentioned,’ Dagmar said, fixing her father with her best furious-warrior gaze. It felt good to give into her anger. ‘A chest of it. You bet against his returning with me and lost, Father. Face it or suffer the consequences.’
Her hand went to the dagger she still wore about her waist. If her father continued in this vein, she’d take the tale to Ketil who would have to act. Her father had sworn an oath to the overlord of the Western Isles.
‘And you returned because of this wager and no other reason?’
‘He gave me little choice and I owed him a life debt,’ Dagmar admitted, relaxing her hold on the dagger. ‘I stand as one with the Gael in this matter. Our fellowship holds true.’
‘You drive a hard bargain, Dagmar.’ Her father sighed and spoke quietly to his advisor. A small chest was brought out. ‘My dealings with you in this matter, mac Connall, are at an end. Let no man or woman say that I failed to keep my word in this matter.’
Aedan picked up the chest. His face was a perfectly blank mask. ‘It has been a pleasure doing business, Kolbeinn the Blood-Axe.’
To prevent herself from trying to catch his eye as he left or looking for one last sign of affection or worse, seeing him put an arm about Mhairi’s waist, Dagmar cleared her throat.
‘I’ve done as you requested, Father. I am here. Why did you summon me, rather than sending a messenger? What is so important?’
Her father brushed an imaginary speck from his cloak. ‘My messengers have developed a habit of having only their heads returned. I would have had no idea if the messages had been received or not. Therefore, you must come to me rather than the other way around. How many is it that you and your mother thwarted?’
Dagmar forced a laugh. ‘I don’t know what you expected, Father. They would insist on trying to kill me. I do reserve the right to strike back when faced with certain death.’
The colour drained from his face, leaving his skin looking like old parchment. Her father was not as young as he used to be, she realised. In her imagination, he’d always strode tall and firm, but like everyone else the years had taken their toll on him. ‘Why would they want to do that?’
‘To leave the way open for my half-brother, of course.’ Dagmar tilted her head to one side. ‘Or didn’t you know that my stepmother had sworn on all the gods that only her children would inherit? That Helga and her daughter would be wiped from the face of the earth and none would weep?’
‘Ingebord lost her temper with Helga. Her words were written on the wind.’
‘I see that makes the attempts on my life before I was fourteen all right? Because my stepmother merely lost her temper?’
Her father held up his hands. ‘I have never wanted to harm you, Dagmar. It is why I sent my best warrior to look after you when you and your mother left. He knew who came in my name and who came from my enemies. I do have some. It is what Ingebord feared—not content with blackening her name, your mother poisoned your mind against me, too. You’re my daughter, why would I wish you harm? Alf and I had a system. Helga was unreasonable.’
Dagmar ground her teeth. Poisoned her mind! Her mother had been more than fair. And she had been ten. The day was etched on her brain for ever. She wanted to storm out now. She could see how this conversation was going to go. Her father did not want to take any responsibility for the trials she had endured.
She’d seen the knives that the assassins carried. She had seen how the poison worked on the puppy who had been unlucky enough to eat her stew before her. After that her mother had forbidden any animals. She’d heard the confessions before her mother had had the men executed. But was there any point? Her stepmother was dead and she lived. It showed the gods had not listened to her. Revenge enough.
‘I know of the attempts I survived. They were not figments of my mother’s imagination or mine,’ she said, taking the time to enunciate each word so there could be no misunderstanding. She refused to allow her father or anyone else to rewrite history. ‘I disarmed one man myself when I was fourteen. He confessed everything before my mother had him put to death and sent his head back to you. Or did Old Alf fail to mention it in any of his reports?’
To her satisfaction, her father’s cheeks flushed. ‘Some men are consumed with ambition and blind to the consequences of overstepping orders. You’re my flesh and blood, Dagmar.’
‘You would have to ask your late wife what her orders to the messengers were.’ Dagmar met her father’s gaze head on. ‘You did not desire a family reunion before, so why do you want one now? The truth rather than some pap that even an infant would reject.’
‘You’re a woman after my own heart.’
Dagmar tapped her boot on the ground. ‘The reason, Father.’
Her father smiled a wintry smile. ‘To marry you off. I need heirs, Dagmar. I need to ensure that my estate which I worked so hard to acquire will be looked after as I reach my twilight years and my eyesight begins to dim. I’m through with wives—one was far too strong-willed for her own good and the other wanted to rule me through her child. I’ve no wish for a third.’
‘Honesty. Good.’ Dagmar bit her lip as her mind worked feverishly. It was as she’d feared. Her father cared more about his estates than what happened to her. He intended to marry her off to some warrior who had curried favour with him, but would have little regard for her or her dreams. ‘And if marriage to one of your warriors is not what I intend to do with my life? I’ve not obliged you for over ten years, so why should I start now?’
Her father’s mouth became a thin white line and she knew her barb had hit home. Good. ‘We all must make sacrifices, Daughter. You’re my only living child. I will protect my legacy through strength. You will do as I command.’
Dagmar kept her body still, rather than giving in to her first impulse of smashing his face in. When had he ever earned that right? ‘If the warrior I disarmed so easily was one of your best, then I don’t think much of them or their ability to keep your estates intact after you are gone. Let me demonstrate my worth as a warrior. Give me ships and men. I will go after Olafr Rolfson and ensure his punishment for his loathsome betrayal. I will prove I can look after my inheritance by myself.’
Dagmar’s heart thudded. He had to accept her offer. She could be his right hand if he’d allow her to be.
‘Shortly after you left, your mother sent word that you wished to be a shield maiden and had sworn never to marry. While I had a living son, I accepted Helga’s words with reluctance, but the gods decreed otherwise when they took my boy from me.’ Her father hit his hand against his knee. ‘Time to grow up, Dagmar. Take responsibility. Put away your playthings. There is much for you to learn. You will remain on Colbhasa at my side.’
Dagmar wriggled her toes to remind herself of the gold she carried in her boot. ‘Will I?’
‘You need a child to occupy your time. I will not have my line perish because you wish to play at being a second-rate warrior.’
Dagmar concentrated on breathing slowly, barely containing her temper.
Her father appeared to think that she was some sort of witless woman. Ordering her to become pregnant because she needed a new pastime? No wonder her mother had left him. The only amazing thing was that she’d married him in the first place. Her mother’s choice in men was consistently awful. He was going to learn a valuable lesson—nobody dictated marriage to her. She chose her own future.
For one blinding heartbeat, she wondered if she ran to where Aedan stood, watching the exchange with an implacable expression and begged for his assistance, would he help her escape? Would he accept her sword arm in the service of his people? She half-started towards him and then stopped dead. She depended on no one.
‘Who do you intend as my bridegroom?’ she said in a falsely sweet voice, the sort of voice which would have had her men running for cover.
Her father, however, gave an indulgent smile. ‘That’s the daughter I remember—always eager to do her father’s bidding. Choose one of the warriors here. I’ve no particular preference.’
‘One of these men in this room?’ Dagmar asked, a plan beginning to form in her brain. Aedan remained in the hall, watching her with a perplexed expression. He gave a sudden shake of his head as if he had read her mind, but she paid him no mind. She had to teach her father a lesson and she didn’t have time to beg Aedan’s permission. All she required was for him to act in the way she knew he would. All she asked was for him to trust her. She would ensure neither he nor his lands came to any harm.
‘If he is unmarried, then, yes.’ Her father beamed. ‘Take your time, Daughter, there is no rush. Tomorrow will be time enough to start. We can run a few contests if you like. See who is truly worthy of you. Yes, that is an excellent idea. We shall have a series of trials. You may judge.’
Her father clapped his hands. The hall roared with approval. An ice-cold calm filled Dagmar. Those warriors would soon be laughing from the other side of their faces.
‘Prepare a chamber for my daughter. She is to have the best furs and my second-best bed. You’ll have your own household, Dagmar. Your old nurse can help you to make the choice. But you will marry. This hall will soon be filled with the patter of my grandsons’ tiny feet.’
‘Mor survives?’ she stammered out.
‘A widow. Her husband perished last winter. She took the name Sif when she married. But she is here and eager to see you. You will have much to discuss. She can give insight into which warrior to choose. You see, I’m not the monster your mother made out. Speak to your nurse—she has sensible counsel to offer you.’
Her father was offering her a distraction. Just as he used to offer a sweetmeat to stop her tears. When she was fighting for her survival, he offered a sop and thought it would suffice. Typical. Her nurse could wait, because right now she would be taking up her father’s offer of a bridegroom or rather settling the matter for all time.
‘I don’t need any more time. I certainly do not need trials of strength or advice from my nurse.’
Her father’s eyes turned speculative. ‘You’ve made your choice?’
‘Will you abide by it?’ Dagmar asked before her nerve failed.
‘Yes, provided it is one of the men in this hall and he is unmarried.’
‘Swear it. Swear it on the rings you wear on your right hand.’
‘I swear it on my rings.’ Her father’s indulgent smile increased. ‘Now will you reveal which of my warriors has captured your heart by merely a look?’
The entire hall erupted into laughter, echoing off the beams. Her father and his men must truly consider her a fool.
Dagmar’s heart thumped, like it always did just before she went into battle. She had to win this. Her very future depended on it. She took a deep breath. ‘I choose Aedan mac Connall.’
‘Aedan mac Connall?’
‘He remains in the hall and is unmarried. You swore eternal friendship to him. Therefore, he must be one of the candidates. Or is your word once again worthless?’
The hall went silent in a heartbeat. She turned her back on her father and gestured towards where Aedan stood. ‘Aedan mac Connall is my choice. He fulfils your requirements.’
Aedan stood stock still, mouth half-open. The woman standing next to him, clinging to his arm like a demented limpet, burst into noisy sobs. Aedan tightened his arm about her, cradling her, but remained silent.
Dagmar glanced away as a stab of jealous rage shot through her. She went over her scheme in her mind again. Aedan was going to refuse her because he could never have a woman from the north at Kintra. He had to put his people above any feelings he might have for her, a pagan woman. Duty drove him. This part was vital to her hastily thought-out scheme as much as it would break her heart. Aedan would refuse and then the next part of her scheme could begin—the part where she declared that she would never marry then, as no man could possibly match Aedan mac Connall. The words would be far too close to the truth for comfort, but she would be able to tread the only possible path for her currently—the life as a sell-sword. Some day she would have a home and put down roots like
she’d vowed. But not today.
‘You do what? You choose whom?’ her father roared, filling the hall.
‘Aedan mac Connall.’ She lifted a brow. ‘I thought I was perfectly clear the first time, Father. You swore I could have any man in this room. I have made my choice. Deliver my bridegroom to me.’
‘You stop this nonsense, Daughter.’ Her father shook his fist. ‘Aedan mac Connall is not the man I had in mind for you. Allow him to depart in peace with his winnings. Make your choice at your leisure after you have had the opportunity to get to know my warriors. Test their strengths and weaknesses. This is a much better plan. A Northern warrior for a brave woman. What sons you will make!’
Her father’s warriors preened themselves, puffing out their chests and giving little swaggers. Choose one of them? Not in this lifetime! And still Aedan remained silent, watching her with an intent expression. He needed to refuse the offer outright. She willed him with her eyes to refuse. He had to know that she would do everything in her power to ensure no ill will followed that refusal.
‘Or what will you do? Throw me out?’ She turned back to her father. His face had gone a sort of mottled purple. Her mother would have been crowing with pleasure at the sight. ‘I can survive by myself, Father. You asked me to make a choice and I have. You agreed to abide by it. You swore it on your rings. Are you an oath-breaker?’
Her father gnashed his teeth. ‘Never!’
Still Aedan remained silent.
There was no hope. She could not wait for Aedan to refuse. She had to swear the next part.
‘I will marry Aedan mac Connall and no other.’ Dagmar kept her back to Aedan, but she could feel his eyes boring into her. ‘I must follow how my heart dictates. I swear this on my mother’s shade.’
There was the sound of a thump and coins spilling as Aedan must have dropped the chest. Dagmar ignored the sound. A few breaths more and she’d have her father precisely where she wanted him. He would be forced to back down and they could begin the negotiations properly. If only Aedan would shout out his refusal, it would make life much easier.
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