Tyra & Bjorn (Viking Glory Book 3)

by Celeste Barclay

  “Grímr is struggling to recruit more Scots. He doesn’t have confidence in the Lowlanders, and the Highland clans are spreading the word to avoid him. He learned of the Welsh archers and decided that would be his newest plan.”

  “How did you learn all of this? Does he know you’re Norse? Did he talk about this in front of you?” Tyra drilled her with questions.

  Gressa looked at the ground and shook her head.

  “I overheard it.”

  “How?” Tyra demanded.

  “I was in his tent.” She looked up and dared anyone to say anything.

  Strian made a sound like an injured animal. He lifted Gressa over his shoulder again and moved away from the others.

  “Why? How could you?”

  “How could I not? Do you think they gave me a choice?”

  Strian sucked in a breath that whistled.

  “He forced you?”

  “He made it so I had very little choice. He threatened to torture someone important to me.”

  “Who? The man you’re with? The man you’ve settled down with and made a cozy life with?”

  Gressa’s head swung forward and her forehead cracked into Strian’s nose, causing blood to flow over his lips and chin.

  “No, you arse. You. He threatened to torture you.” Gressa shook with anger as she looked at Strian. “There. Are you satisfied?”

  “No. Where is your man to protect you?”

  “What man? You keep saying that. I never once said I was with someone. You’re the one who admitted to being with other women.”

  “And you said you’ve made a life in Wales you don’t want to leave. By the by, I didn’t say that.”

  “With my people. And I never said with a man.”

  Strian shook his head. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Strian--”

  She did not get to finish before he was steering her back to the others.

  “Finish telling them.”

  “He intends to sink your ships, then go to Wales for more men. He wants you trapped. The sea to the north and his mercenaries to the south. He plans to lay siege to the Mackay castle. If he doesn’t catch you there, he believes he will before you can get more ships to sail back.”

  “Then he is after ma home,” Alex spoke for the first time.

  Gressa looked at the dark-haired man who resembled the blonde man who followed Freya.

  “Are you Laird Mackay? Then yes, he is.”

  “We outnumber him. How does is he so sure he can keep getting away?” Andrew MacLeod was suspicious of the woman whose wrists were still bound. “How we be sure that’s the truth?”

  “At this point, why would I lie?” She raised her wrists to point out the obvious. “It’s obvious you have more warriors. That’s why he’s going to Wales. He gets away because his son is with him. They’re practically twins. You spot one then the other, but you don’t realize the last time you were sure you glimpsed Grímr, it’s his son. Grímr has already left wherever you’re fighting. He would let his son die before he does.”

  Gressa’s disgust was unmistakable, but Strian’s look made her shake her head. He wondered if she had been with the son, too. She swayed toward Strian but caught herself.

  “There is only one reason for him to return to the Trondelag. You kill his remaining sons. He will have no one to inherit Ivar’s and Rangvald’s settlements. The point of this was to create a legacy everyone would admire.”

  “They aren’t even his real sons,” Tyra muttered.

  “But they are his only legacy,” Gressa pointed out. “He would give up trying to take the settlements, but he wouldn’t give up wanting revenge for their deaths.”

  Lorna glanced at her husband before announcing, “Then we have our plan. The sons are as good as dead. If he comes for Rang, let him. He will learn what mistake he has made setting his sights on my husband.”

  The others concurred. They needed to drive Grímr back to the Trondelag, where he would remain outnumbered. He might play cat-and-mouse there, but there were far more Norsemen to guard Rangvald and Ivar than there were warriors on this mission. Grímr stood no choice back home. They remounted their horses and galloped toward Castle Varrich and what they hoped would be their last standoff with Grímr.

  Nineteen

  The ride turned out to be faster than Tyra expected, and even though they rode late into the night, they arrived at the base of the Kyle of Tongue before midmorning.

  “It’s two more hours ride, but we will reach Varrich before they do.” Alex looked relieved to catch a glimpse of the body of water that was the last landmark before he was home. “Dinna dally. I need to be sure ma people are unharmed.”

  The force was still made up of Rangvald’s and Ivar’s Norsemen along with the Mackays, the MacLeods, and the Mackenzies. They made an impressive sight as they reached the last rise and Castle Varrich came into sight. Alex’s sentries met them and assured him that nothing unusual had happened during his absence, but he still wanted to verify that with his own eyes. Their numbers were far too large to accommodate all the warriors in the bailey, so camp was set up outside the wall while the leaders trudged into the Great Hall. Alex’s chatelaine busied herself, ordering chambers readied and food brought to the exhausted and starving group. Alex sighed as he settled into his seat at the dais. He ran his hand over the table in front of him, relieved to be home.

  No one spoke of Grímr or the inevitable battle while they sat at the table. Everyone needed a reprieve, if only for an hour. Once the servants cleared the meal away, it was inevitable that the conversation swung back to what would happen next.

  “I need to check on the ships,” Tyra cut in. The unknown made her anxious, and she would not rest until she was sure they were all still seaworthy.

  “The sun will set soon. It’ll be easier to see them in the morning,” Lorna pointed out.

  “No. I will see them now.” Tyra rose and looked around. She startled the people at the table, but she would not give in. “Excuse me, please,” she added as an afterthought.

  Bjorn paused before following her. “You know she won’t sleep until she is sure. I will make sure she doesn’t sleep in her cabin. At least not alone.” Bjorn hurried to catch up with Tyra.

  “They think I’m crazy, but those ships are the only thing protecting us right now,” Tyra fretted. “If aught is wrong with them, it won’t matter if Grímr attacks. We’ll be stranded here until they’re repaired. Whether we sail home or sail to Wales, we need them. We won’t ride all the way to Wales.”

  Tyra’s long legs carried her swiftly across the bailey to the postern gate. She raised an eyebrow at the guard who hesitated. He scrambled aside when her hand moved to her knife. It was easy for Bjorn to keep up, but he chose not to talk. He understood Tyra needed to lose herself in her thoughts. He was sure she was doing an inventory in her mind and running through the list of things she would check. It was better not to distract her than end up on the wrong side of her temper. She had not shown it much during this voyage, but it rivaled Freya’s. She hurried down the cliffside that led to the sandy beach. There were several small fishing boats moored to the sand, so she untethered one and pushed. Bjorn joined her on the other side, and it was only a matter of a moment before it was bobbing in the water. They waded in and pulled themselves into the boat. Bjorn settled on the bench and took the oars while grinning at Tyra.

  “You can row us home when we’re both tired.”

  Tyra stuck her tongue out at him before giggling.

  “I like that sound. I told you, you don’t laugh like that enough.” Bjorn teased.

  “I used to. At your expense. You shall have to try harder to be funny.”

  It was Bjorn’s turn to stick his tongue out at her, but his look was far more seductive.

  “Whose cabin shall we check last?” Tyra purred.

  “A bed? That will be a first for us. Even at Allenfearn, we fell asleep on the floor before the fire. I’ll row faster.”

  “
Ahoy,” Tyra called out as they approached. At least half a dozen people were on guard, but she still unable to determine which ships.

  A head popped over the rail, and Tyra recognized the woman as Helga. One of Freya’s best oarswomen. When Helga recognized Tyra and Bjorn, her whistle echoed as other passed it on to the farthest guard. Helga placed a plank between the smaller boat and the ship after Tyra tossed her a rope to secure it.

  “We watched you return. There were many more of you than when you left.”

  “The MacLeods, Sutherlands, and Mackenzies joined us. The Sutherlands returned to their keep to see if Grímr headed there. We continued on and discovered Grímr sailed west, or least we think, and will try to sail into the kyle.”

  Helga looked at the couple and then at the fleet which filled the natural bay below the castle.

  “How long do you think we have?”

  “The night. They will be here in the morning, assuming the weather held for them.”

  “That’s not very long. The boats are in good condition. The water was sometimes rough. but we docked them far enough apart that they didn’t jostled each other. There was one storm that struck with lightning. It took off the mast of one of Rangvald’s ships. The one Fritjof sailed.”

  Tyra shook her head. “He’s dead. Killed during our first skirmish.”

  Helga shrugged. It was a way of life to accept death; it was inevitable for everyone. Tyra watched Helga for a moment before continuing. “Helga, your cousin is dead, too.”

  “Gunnhild?” Helga was moved by this. “When?”

  “In the woods when we made camp one night. Helga, you should know I did it.”

  Helga glared at Tyra, unable to do anything because of rank.

  “You murdered my cousin?” She spoke through her teeth.

  “I defended myself. She threatened to kill me, because she refused to accept my claim to Bjorn.”

  Helga’s laugh held no mirth as she looked over Tyra’s shoulder at Bjorn.

  “You murdered my cousin over a man you don’t even want. Or were you jealous Gunnhild was still sucking his cock?”

  Bjorn took a step forward, but Tyra waved his back.

  “Much has changed since we left, and that includes my relationship with Bjorn. Gunnhild knew that, as does everyone else. She spoke ill of me to some of the other women and threatened me before them and Bjorn.”

  Helga looked to Bjorn, but he did not react except for a tick at the side of his jaw.

  “If it wasn’t murder, why are you telling me? Why not let someone else bring me the news.”

  “Because I would have you learn the truth from me before you heard tales told by those who weren't there. If you don’t believe me, and you think Bjorn would lie for me, then ask Solvi and Gala. They were there. Astrid was there to listen to what Gunnhild said earlier. They’ve told their side to Freya and Erik, who were satisfied with how I handled things.”

  “Of course they were. Freya is your best friend, and she leads Erik around by the bollocks now. He doesn’t dare disagree with his pretty little wife.”

  Bjorn failed to contain his laughter at that. “Helga, you and I both know that’s not true. They still disagree daily, and often neither of them gives in. Someone else decides. You can accuse Tyra, but be careful what you say and who you say it to. If you’re a threat to my wife, then I’ll kill you myself.”

  “Wife?”

  “As good as married. She’s not my mistress, so don’t wonder about it.”

  Helga looked at the powerful couple and knew they spoke the truth. Duty obligated her to defend her cousin, but it did not surprise her that Gunnhild met her end as she had. Gunnhild’s jealousy of Tyra lasted her entire life, and she coveted Bjorn for herself for years. Threatening Tyra had only been a matter of time. Helga nodded before turning to point at the bay’s opening.

  “If we can stop them before they enter the bay, then we won’t lose any of our ships. The best thing would be forcing them into a row so we can sink one ship after another,” Helga’s practical nature ruled. Her arguments in defense of her cousin spent, she reverted to business.

  “We form a flotilla to barricade the entrance, but I want a way to stop them before they even make it to us.” Bjorn looked out to the last of the fleet.

  “Do you suppose they have enough iron links to form a long chain?” Tyra looked back at the keep. “Perhaps their blacksmith makes something in time, so we spread it across the water further north. We leave enough space for their fleet to sail in, then trap them between two metal chains, or at least we block them with it. If we can, we should attach large fishing nets to the one closest to us. Then archers on either shore attack before our flotilla sails forward.”

  “It’s worth trying,” Tyra’s tactic impressed Helga and begrudgingly admitted, “That’s a good idea.”

  Tyra gave her a tight smile and nod. “Thank you. We need to inspect the other boats and then go ashore.”

  “Very well. I’m glad you returned.”

  “Thank you,” Bjorn said as Tyra climbed down to the small boat. Once they released the rope from the larger ship, Tyra rowed them around the fleet, weaving between ships to check hulls and speak to the others on watch. When her inspection satisfied her, Bjorn switched with her and rowed them back to shore.

  “So much for a bed,” he grumbled. “We’ll be up all night, and not the way I prefer.”

  Tyra nodded in sympathy. Her mind bemoaned the lost opportunity, too. When they reached the shore, they raced back up the path and headed to the blacksmith’s forge. The man was just packing up and grabbed an iron poker when he caught sight of the two blond Norsemen running toward him. Tyra held up both hands as they slowed their approach.

  “We don’t mean any threat. We have an idea and wondered if it was possible.” She pointed toward the water. “We need two metal chains long enough to extend across the water from shore to shore. Is that possible?”

  The blacksmith looked at them then out to the kyle. “Only if we used all the chains we can collect from the keep and bailey.”

  “Is it possible for you to do them by morning?”

  At the suggestion that the man must work all night, he balked and shook his head.

  “Do you want a fleet of Norsemen to enter the bay and attack?” Bjorn tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “I imagine not.”

  “Does the laird ken yer plan?”

  “Not yet, but I’m confident he will agree to its merit. We also wonder if your fishermen have a fishing net to attach to it. Maybe even an anchor.”

  “The net might be a possibility, but there is nay way to make an anchor in time. Ye would have to give up one of yers from yer ships.”

  Tyra looked at Bjorn.

  “Take the one from mine.” She suggested to Bjorn.

  “And mine. If we can anchor it at least at both ends, then we can capture the boats. We might even take them once they no longer have crews.”

  “Speak to the laird. If he says aye, then I will get started.”

  “I’m positive he will. You should rouse your helpers and get anyone else you might need.”

  Tyra and Bjorn explained their idea to the others, who agreed it was the best chance they had to avoid full-scale battle on the water. Alex accompanied Tyra and Bjorn back to the blacksmith, who had already relit his forge and had two large young men stoking the fire. He was issuing orders to three other men when they arrived.

  “I figured he’d say aye,” the blacksmith spoke before Tyra or Bjorn asked.

  The three men appeared from the back of the hut with armfuls of iron links. The blacksmith sent them to find more in the keep and around the bailey. Within the hour, there was a gigantic pile of chain sitting outside the hut. The blacksmith was hard at work heating and pounding the segments together. Alex ordered the fishermen from the surrounding village to bring all their nets to the keep. They examined them, and those deemed strong enough were delivered to the blacksmith for him to tie and solder on.

&nb
sp; The next day dawned with a thick cloud cover that matched Tyra and Bjorn’s mood. They stayed up throughout the night to oversee the project. They finished only a couple of hours before dawn, so they found a spot in the Great Hall and fell asleep. Now they were awake once more and ordering their warriors to haul enormous chains out to their ships. Once they loaded the massive cables, the crews of the two ships set off to lay the furthest chain, then the second one. There was natural cover on both cliffs that allowed members of both crews to wait out of sight.

  The sun was trying to make its way out of the clouds when the first of Alex’s scouts returned with news that they spotted the fleet. Bjorn and Tyra were still with the ships as they positioned the boats, then tethered them together to make four large flotillas.

  Freya, Erik, Strian, and the others were leaving the keep when Gressa ran up to Strian. He had ordered her to remain in the keep on pain of death if she disobeyed. Strian had unbound her hands in case Grímr breached their defenses or an attack also came from land. He would not leave her unable to protect herself.

  “Strian, wait!”

  “I don’t have time, Gressa.”

  “You have to let me come.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “I’m better than any of your archers, and you know that. I always have been, and I’ve spent the last ten years fighting with one.”

  “No.”

  “Strian,” she pleaded.

  “I said no.”

  “Is it because you don’t trust me? You fear I’ll sabotage this or run away?”

  Strian stood akimbo.

  “Would you?”

  “Not until I’m convinced Grímr is dead,” the venom that dripped from her words was enough to make Strain pause.

  “You said he never forced you.”

  “Did he give me much choice? It was that or watch you die.”

  “How can you be so sure he would honor that?”

  “Because I already learned too much.”

  “He might have killed you.”

  “And I might die in any battle.”