Ari didn’t bother to turn around. “Well enough.”
Fljótdís noticed how cold the interaction was between Ari and Irena. Ari obviously didn’t like her. And that was surprising since every man in the town would gladly fall on his knees before her. He probably didn’t like Irena because she had taken Mother’s place in this house. Or maybe there was something else, something personal. She hoped with all her heart that that was not the case.
Irena warmed herself at the hearth. She watched the play of the flames and then turned to them with a coy smile on her lips.
“In answer to your question, Fljótdís, the Lady Astrid is quite exquisite. Gentle as a summer breeze. Poor child, she is fragile and Harald is quite rough, you know? He will break her like a dry twig. But I’m sure he will manage to keep her belly swollen. She looks, um, agreeable. And a king must have heirs, needless to say. I’m sure she will be obedient and that’s all that really matters.”
There was that word again, obedient. She regarded her stepmother with cool mistrust. It was almost as if she had overheard her exchange with the King. Irena wanted something and she was determined to find out what it was.
“Why are you here, Irena?”
Ari shifted restlessly in his chair. He stood up abruptly and taking his cup, he headed outside. She was tempted to ask him to stay. She felt safer when Ari was near. But this was her fight, her business, and it darkened her mood.
“What do you want?”
Her stepmother pouted and sat down in Ari’s place. “Can’t I just come by to visit my stepdaughter? After your return from the raid, I had no chance to talk to you.”
“I’m busy.”
Irena ran her fingertip rather intimately around the brim of the bowl Ari had left behind. “Yes, yes, my dearest, of course, you are. Finally, your dream is coming true.”
The words were dismissing. Fljótdís put another plate on the table. “If you have come here to ask me to choose your sorcery again, then you have made the trip for nothing. I won’t change my mind.”
“No, Fljótdís.” Irena’s smile melted away. “I came here to warn you.”
She gave her stepmother a withering look. “I don’t fear you, Stepmother.”
Irena’s laugh held no humour. “I am no danger to you, my dear. I have come to warn you about the King.”
Fljótdís gave her a sceptical look. “The King? Why would the King be a danger to me?”
Irena straightened the seam of her grey velvet sleeve and smiled. “Well, because you are his now. You protect him and spend a lot of time with him. You’re a woman of passingly good looks. And he is a man of strong appetites, a man who enjoys women. He is your King, after all, and I don’t want you to be shocked if he takes certain kingly liberties, you see? He is that kind of man. So have a care.”
“I appreciate your concern, Irena, but the King and I have already discussed these matters. I have his promise that he will be respectful.”
Irena hid her expression of doubt. “His promise. I see. Well, that’s settled, then. Good for you, you’ve outsmarted him. Such a clever girl.”
Already bored with her visit, Irena made ready to leave. She hesitated at the door. “But I wonder about this promise, my dear. He has given you his word that he will not ask you to his bed, I presume. After all, your wish is to be treated as a warrior, not as a woman.”
She regarded Fljótdís with a calculating eye. “But the heat of a woman’s body always betrays her. And I must ask myself what might happen if it is you doing the asking in this peculiar relationship you say you have with the King because he has softened your rough warrior’s heart with his masterful charms and sad tales of despair. As much as the King might require heirs, the last thing he needs is a bastard brat mewling at his knee. One little moment of weakness...”
Fljótdís’ blood turned cold. “That will never happen. Unlike some in this room, I value my honour. You better go now, Irena. I make no guarantees about my temper just now.”
Irena gave her a dismissing wave of farewell. “Of course, I’m on my way. Far be it from me to lessen your joy when you have so conquered our mighty King. Still, food for thought, perhaps. My, my, it looks like the weather is taking a turn. Your stew is burning on the fire, dearest.”
Irena was gone, leaving Fljótdís standing alone, a plate still in her hand.
“Fljótdís?” Ari’s voice broke into her thoughts. “What did she want?”
She set the plate down on the table and went to tend the boiling stew, never meeting Ari’s look. “Just some dark-hearted nonsense. You know how she is.”
Ari nodded grimly. “I do, indeed. We must go. The Earl and his daughter will be here soon.”
She nodded and made ready to leave, running her hand lovingly over the soft fur collar of her heavy green woollen cloak. It was the garb of a woman, not a warrior. But she adored it so. Irena’s words still held their bitter sting. It was her stepmother’s gift, creating doubt and weakness in others.
Yes, she was a woman, but she was also a warrior, more a warrior than any of the King’s shield maidens, more even than many of the King’s men. She would be both, a warrior and a woman. She would master both tasks. And she would master the King.
She saw Ari’s look of admiration as she swung her green cloak lightly over her shoulders and secured her sword at her waist. He smiled. Ari didn’t smile often and when he did, it was usually in a spirit of fun.
She frowned. “What is it? Do I have something stuck to my shoe?”
“No.” He appeared to lose his words for a moment. “Sometimes you look just like your mother.” He opened the door for her, bowing in a silly manner. “My lady...”
She punched his shoulder none too gently and smiled as she breezed past him. Irena’s poison was not going to ruin this day.
The King waited for them in the Great Hall. He paced restlessly from nerves and anger.
“Where have the two of you been for so long, Ari?”
“Humblest apologies, my lord, but I was captured by Fljótdís’ rabbit stew.”
Harald snorted his displeasure and gave Ari a reproachful look. He turned sharply when the sound of ceremonial horns portended the arrival of important guests.
Earl Ulfson rode in first. He was a tall, black-haired man. One look at his face made any wish to be in his company disappear. It was unpleasant, robust and covered with many scars. He had the look of a man who always saw to his own interests first.
When Ulfson dismounted, Fljótdís realized just how tall a man he really was. Not a match for Ari, but he looked down at King Harald. And if there was anything Harald didn’t like, it was people who looked on him from above.
There was a long scar on the Earl’s neck. It gave his voice a kind of animal growling quality that made a small shiver run over Fljótdís back.
“King Harald, it is an honour to be your guest.”
Harald’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Earl Ulfson, I welcome you to my Hall. I hope your travel was safe and overwatched by Odin.”
Ulfson smiled, revealing a few empty holes in his mouth where there had once been teeth, his only losses in battle. “Indeed it was a favourable journey. The gods led us straight to you, lord, but I must admit, my fair daughter and I are quite tired. Astrid?” He turned back toward his entourage.
A servant helped the Earl’s daughter down out of the horse-drawn wagon that had concealed her until now. Dressed in a gown the colour of a summer sky, her gossamer blond hair was braided in very complex patterns. She did indeed seem gentle, her figure so slender that she looked like a little child next to her big father. Very beautiful, but very fragile, a woman who did next to nothing for herself. Fljótdís wondered if this woman could ever lift a sword, even to save her own life.
“King Harald, may I have the pleasure of presenting my daughter, Astrid.”
Astrid bowed her head slightly, perhaps a bit shy of the normal respect, but her beauty blinded those around her to any lack of protocol.
Her voice was like the music of delicate bells. “My lord, it is a pleasure to meet you.”
There could be little doubt that the King was quite satisfied with what he saw. He offered Astrid his hand as they started toward the Hall. His smile was polite, but his eyes were those of a fox watching a tender squab. “The pleasure is all mine, Lady Astrid. We have prepared a great feast in honour of this visit.”
When the exchanging of courtesies was over, the guests all adjourned to their rooms to rest and freshen themselves for the night’s festivities.
Harald sat with Ari, stroking his beard in careful consideration. “She is not bad to look at, at least, wouldn’t you say?”
Ari frowned and harkened up words Fljótdís had once used. “Like something made of glass.”
“Not like our Fljótdís.” The King’s smile was a bit teasing as he tore a bite of bread from a nearby plate and tossed it into his mouth. “But if this woman is to be my brood mare, I would need to be assured she would give me strong sons, not pretty little butterflies. I dread what this one might lay in my lap.”
Ari stared hard into his mead. “I believe you are probably safe, my lord. My guess is that a female such as this one will never survive the birthing of a babe and would probably take the thing with her. You will have satisfied the Earl’s greed. His daughter will have died as many do and he cannot hold you responsible. And you will once again be free to pursue any woman of your choice. It’s not a perfect bargain, but I’d say it’s worth considering. In the meantime, the woman is yours to do with as you please.”
The King’s eyes narrowed as he pondered all of this.
Fljótdís listened quietly to their conversation. This Lady Astrid was too weak and probably too spoiled. She definitely was not a fitting wife for King Harald. And you think you could do better? It was almost as if her stepmother had marched into her mind. She wanted to be free of Irena’s twisted manipulation, but that was never easy.
The King was the King. She served only as his guardian. She was his soldier. That was all. The King had agreed to that. And she was satisfied with it, wasn’t she? Yes. If the King wanted to take to wife some pale whisper of a woman who she could knock down with one finger, that was his choice. Men were such idiots sometimes, always fooled by the pretty ones.
With a start, she realized that the King and Ari were no longer talking. They were staring at her because she was lifting her sword from its scabbard a few inches and then letting it fall back into place, over and over again. Not only was the noise of it distracting, but it also caused both men to raise an eyebrow.
“I am grateful for the opportunity to drink in your Hall, King Harald.” Earl Ulfson emptied his fourth horn of mead.
The King smiled tactfully and gestured for a servant to immediately refill the Earl’s horn. “You and your wonderful daughter should visit me more often, Earl Ulfson. My Hall is always open to those loyal to me.”
His meaning was not lost on Ulfson. The Earl leaned close to the King, speaking in a conspiring tone. “You and I are men of action, my lord. You did not invite me here purely to show off the quality of your mead. Which I must say is unsurpassed.” He raised his horn in a clumsy salute. “We are important men. There are things we both want, things we require to be satisfied, is that not true?”
Harald was pleased with the Earl’s relaxed state. But he wasn’t fooled into thinking the man was not shrewd, drunk or sober.
“We know each other well, Earl Ulfson. We respect each other, do we not? And there is a matter I wish to talk to you about.”
Ulfson’s expression was one of barely leashed greed. “I am listening.”
Harald kept his gaze trained across the room. “We both know that King Torvaldson desires to conquer my lands. It is a secret to no one.”
Ulfson nodded and let out a long belch. “That’s what people say.”
Harald’s attention came to rest on Fljótdís for only a moment, then it slid away. He concentrated now on all of those in the Hall and his words to the Earl were carefully chosen.
“If this situation is not resolved, in time there will be war. I do not fear war, but wars should be fought against outside enemies who threaten us all. A war among ourselves does not serve anyone’s best interest. I want to be sure that all of my Earls are loyal to me. That is a fair expectation, don’t you agree?”
Ulfson’s smile was smug. “I am loyal to you, my lord. I have pledged my loyalty to you many times.” His declaration had a hollow ring to it.
Harald nodded, taking a long drink of mead. “That is true, but these are hard times. And I need guarantees.”
“What sort of guarantees? My word is not guarantee enough?”
“I think you know what I am talking about, Earl Ulfson.”
Ulfson had the look of a man who was ready to drive a hard bargain. “And what is your offer?”
“One-quarter of the lands in the northwest and one-fifth of Torvaldson’s lands after we conquer them.”
Fljótdís observed the progress of this transaction carefully. There was open greed in Ulfson’s eyes, greed in his eating and drinking manner and greed in how he looked at the servants and the slave women. It would be hard to satisfy such a man. Still, this was not a bad offer.
The Earl sat back in his chair. “I might see my way clear to consider what you say. But what guarantee do you need from me in return?”
Again the King’s sight came to rest on Fljótdís.
She was unsure why he kept returning to her. If she encouraged him, she might be held to blame if things turned out badly. If she gave him some negative indication, the jeopardy might be the same. Or, he was merely toying with her and he would ignore any hint from her. She did the first thing that came to mind and smiled at him. There was a small glimmer of what might be confusion on his regal face. It passed quickly and there was complete silence at the table for the King’s next words.
“I ask for your loyalty and for Lady Astrid’s hand in marriage.”
Ulfson looked at his daughter as if reconsidering her worth. No matter his unsavoury nature, it was plain that she meant something to him. But he was not a fool. An ambitious father couldn’t have a better offer than to have a king as his son-in-law. The Earl took his time, but his decision was made already. He raised his horn.
“To our alliance and to the betrothal of my precious daughter! May she bear the King a dozen warrior sons! Skål!”
“Skål!” Harald’s salute in return was spoken calmly.
The deal was sealed and Fljótdís could breathe easier. She understood what this alliance meant to the kingdom. Earl Ulfson was the richest of Harald’s Earls. He had more men, more supplies, more weapons and more ships. No matter how much she disliked it, this marriage solved a lot of their problems.
A hostile voice cut into her thoughts. “Who is this girl and why is she hiding in the clothes of a man?”
She was careful not to follow her first instincts and go for her sword. There was too much at stake. The King caught her attention and assured her with a nod that there was nothing to fear. Still, this situation was in flux.
With an air of true pride, Harald said, “She is one of my best warriors, the daughter of Gunnar Torson.”
She didn’t like what she saw in Ulfson’s eyes. He gave her a broad, toothless grin.
Ulfson scratched his unkempt beard, considering these new facts. “Daughter of Gunnar, you say? A legendary man. Heard he fell in Curonian lands. Is she married?”
Ari sensed her reaction and grabbed her arm under the table. Even the King didn’t like where this conversation was going, but there was a great deal riding on keeping Ulfson happy, so his smile remained in place as he spoke.
“Not married yet.” Harald poured himself more mead and refilled Ulfson’s horn. “Sadly, she doesn’t belong to me, but to my big friend, Ari, there.”
The Earl was undaunted by this explanation. “And does Ari share? I am sure you won’t mind if I borrow her for a one night, will you,
in the name of hospitality and our new accord?”
It required no words to convey Ari’s answer to this proposition. The King’s expression was no more encouraging. It was a dangerous moment, one that could easily be taken as an insult by everyone involved.
Fortunately, Ulfson was drunk and in a good mood. “A pity. Such a body wasted. I like a woman with a bit of fight to her.” His bloodshot eyes still lingered on her.
The King gestured for two attractive serving women to come to stand beside the Earl. Ulfson gave them a cursory glance and shrugged, distracted for the moment.
She didn’t want to kill the Earl. She couldn’t because that would mean the end of the King’s bargain. But if Harald had made her sleep with this man, Ulfson would have ended up dead. There could be no doubt about that. And that would have sealed her own fate as much as the Earl’s.
With a conscious effort, she folded her hands in front of herself. “My King, by your leave, would you please excuse me?”
Harald nodded his consent, a small furrow above his brow. It was impossible to judge whether it was from worry over her welfare or displeasure over the trouble she was causing. He returned his attention to Ulfson with an affable smile. She emptied her cup in a single gulp and left the Great Hall. She needed some fresh air.
The night wind was laced with ice. Soon it would snow and nothing worthwhile would happen, no raids, no attacks, just frozen nothingness and frigid nights. No one could ever be sure just how harsh the winter would be.
She had served the King for a whole year. But in spite of being in a few more skirmishes and joining the endless councils and feasts, she felt disappointed. Of course, it was a great honour to be next to the King and to listen to Ari’s lessons about battle plans and tricks. But the days were so simple and dull. Where were the adventures, the raids, the tests of her strength and courage? As it was now, she was bored to death.
“Fljótdís.”
Startled from her thoughts, she found Ari standing beside her.
“Your mind is somewhere up there in the stars right now, Fljótdís?”
Fljótdís- Daughter of the North Page 8