by Sandra Lake
“As I wrote in my report, Your Majesty, the continual requests from her people of Toraslotte encouraged me to bring my wife north before the winter set in. Once my wife is safely housed in Toraslotte, she has no intention of traveling, nor hosting delegations from the south.”
“’Tis not what has been reported through Bishop Absalom’s channels,” King Sverre said, glaring at Sovia. But Sovia was well used to being in hostile company at court, and kept a look of regal indifference on her face.
“Aye, but you are here now and it does come at a good time. Come, friends,” King Sverre said. “There is much news I would share with you, but first let us make you more comfortable. Bishop Absalom has brought many gifts. The wine is truly something to taste.” The king put his arm around Hök’s shoulders, leading him away from Sovia, leaving her to trail behind with his brothers. “More than most, I believe you will be pleased with the gifts our Danish comrades have brought with them as peace offerings.”
“So you are allies with Denmark. The very kingdom that has supplied your enemies with arms and safe harbor.” Hök kept his tone neutral and quiet, ensuring only King Sverre would hear.
“We cannot live in the past, my friend. We must look forward and . . .”
“Forgive me, Your Majesty, for not trusting the word of Danes just yet. It was but a few months that they plotted to slaughter all of your men and sink all of your ships into the North Sea.”
King Sverre ignored the barb, sitting down in his chair at the high table and gesturing for Hök to take the seat next to him. His brothers and his wife were left to remain with the crowd of noblemen and women to mingle about the hall.
“I have much to thank you for, my friend.” The king rubbed his hands together excitedly, his good humor uncontainable. He accepted a chalice of wine from a servant and gestured for Hök to do the same. “If you hadn’t pulled Losna’s daughter out of the harbor when you did, I would not be so well positioned as I am today.” The king clanged their gold chalices together. “I will not forget your part in my good fortune, and I have picked out the perfect reward for you, my young friend.”
Hök opened his month, about to ask about this so-called good fortune, when the great doors at the far end of the hall opened. Sunlight spilled in, shadowing the faces of the men and woman who entered.
“Ah, your timing is impeccable, sir,” King Sverre said loudly, jumping to his feet. “No trouble on the roads?”
“None,” a man with a thick Rus accent said. Hök instantly recognized the voice—it was his tournament challenger, Voinovich.
“Lady Sovia, you must come and thank my friend Sir Voinovich,” King Sverre said, drawing the attention of the crowd in the hall. A sudden silence filled the air as the new arrivals strolled forward. “He has done you a fine service in collecting your treasure to come greet you.”
Hök fixed his eyes on his wife, who first swayed and then launched herself forward. Stål, acting wisely, grabbed her arm, holding her protectively to his side. This was clearly a trap.
The guards that followed the Rus knights were dragging an old woman. Behind her, another guard dragged a young boy by the hand. The old woman was trembling and had been recently beaten. Her gray frock was torn at the collar, there were mud stains on her knees and the hem of her skirt, and Hök could see a fresh bruise under her right eye.
Hök heard his wife pleading for his brother to release her, but Hök did not turn to look at her. Sovia must know the old woman, but now was not the time to show softness of any kind. He had underestimated his Rus adversaries by not believing them able to parade about so openly, obviously inflicting brutality to local villagers, within months of being beaten back to their own shores.
Voinovich grabbed the child by the back of the neck.
“No!” His wife shouted and struggled to break free from Stål. “Get away from him.”
“Let your husband handle this.” Hök overheard his brother hush his wife, who had gone from a state of queenly decorum to blind panic.
Voinovich stepped into the middle of the hall, forcing the child to accompany him, and stopped only a few feet from the king. He extended his hand out toward Sovia. “Come, my little kotik, and greet our son.” The child was doing his best not to weep or tremble. His wide eyes were ice blue, the same as Pavlik and Voinovich, the resemblance between father and son undeniable. “Come, here, Sovia. Our son is anxious to see his mother.”
Chapter 29
King Sverre reclined more in his throne chair, clearly enjoying the entertainment of Sovia’s distress. “You see now, Earl Hök, why I need to share this news with you. These northern territories have been filled with rumors for the last fifty years of the great treasure of Sigurd the Crusader. It was said that the Birkebeiners fiercely guarded Lady Sovia’s treasure while she was away at court serving her father’s treasonous plots. Imagine my disappointment when I discovered that there was in fact no secret treasure of Sigurd’s hidden away in Toraslotte, just Sovia’s bastard.”
The king clearly relished in the hostile atmosphere that had infected his hall, and was growing thicker by the second. The boy had hair near exactly the same length and color of his wife’s. That, combined with her reaction, left no doubt that this boy was in fact her child. The boy was tall, with lean arms and legs, perhaps a child of seven or eight years.
King Sverre swirled his cup in the air. “Imagine then my utter astonishment when not a week after the trial in Bergen, I received a request for a hearing from Bishop Absalom in regards to a child of the Kiev court that was stolen by Lady Sovia, Sir Voinovich’s runaway bride.”
“He is lying.” Sovia shouted. She broke free of Stål and rushed to the boy, pulling him tight into her side and backing away from the Rus prince, who did little more than grin.
Hök slowly walked toward his wife, allowing the hard soles of his boots to echo through the silenced hall, never taking his eyes off his enemy. Hök, his brothers, and their men were outnumbered. Retreating and regrouping to fight another day was the only option. He needed to get his wife out of here. He would not risk her life by drawing a blade in the hall, no matter how much he desired it.
Hök stood in front of Sovia and her child. He then turned his attention to the king. “I see we have come at a bad time, Your Majesty. You have guests. My family and I will return when you are less occupied.”
“My friend, you miss the point entirely,” the king said, rising to walk down the steps of the dais. He slapped Hök on the back and then extended his other hand to rest on Voinovich’s shoulder, bridging the two enemies together. “I’ve found the perfect solution, under which all parties will get what they want. It will bring lasting peace to all our countries.”
Voinovich never took his eyes off of Sovia as the king spoke.
“Perhaps Earl Hök should read this, King Sverre,” Bishop Absalom said from his seat on the high table. A scroll carried by a servant was handed to Hök, but he refused to accept it. Nothing written on the scroll would change his mind-set. He was getting his wife and her child out of this hall and back onto his ship.
Stål accepted the scroll, while Hök never looked away from Voinovich. A moment later, his brother spoke in Swedish. “It’s a marriage contract between Sovia and Voinovich, dated last year. In the contract, Leif Voinovichsson is named heir to Toraslotte. Signed by Losna at the Rus court in Ryazan.”
“It’s a lie,” Sovia said. “My father promised me to dozens different princes, but I never wed one. Never before Lord Hök have I sworn a marriage vow.” She had regained a measure of control in her countenance.
“It matters not, Lady Sovia,” Bishop Absalom said. “The contract was signed by Prince Pavlik’s priest. Church law is clear. A child is property of the father and your grandfather’s decree, which is upheld by his heir, King Sverre, is clear in saying that Toraslotte and all her holdings are passed to his heir, which is young master Leif Voinovichson.
”
“He is not the child of Voinovich,” Sovia said bluntly. Her panic from a moment ago had vanished with the temper that now raged through her tone. “How could he be? If he were the father, when and how could that have taken place? My son is in fact the child I bore after my night spent with Lord Hök in Poloska, at the castle of Prince Jon’s. ’Tis well documented that the Jarl of Tronscar paid my father in ships and swords over the scandal. Hök and I were lovers—we were young and impulsive and our son Leif was born the following spring.” Sovia held her head high as she lied, so convincingly in fact that Hök, the only eyewitness to the fact that their time alone in that chamber could not have conceived a child, would not dare argue.
“By all the saints in heaven, Hök. How the hell have you lived with this woman the last few months and not murdered her already,” King Sverre said. “Lies fall off her tongue faster than her favors.”
Hök ground his teeth, struggling to not snap back at the king. Sverre was the key component to getting his family back safely to the harbor. “Your Majesty, I failed to give you all the facts of Lady Sovia’s and my dealings before I wed her in your court in Bergen. I did not deceive you in thinking that the lady and I were on good terms. What my wife has spoken is true. I sired her son nearly eight years ago but because she did not return my affections, I denied her claim that the child was mine. All of this happened in secret correspondence of course, but when I saw her life at stake in Bergen, I could keep silent no more. She is after all the mother of my son. It is in fact true—I have loved this woman for many years.”
The king’s brow furrowed with disgust. “You were in love with the red harlot for years?”
“Irrelevant,” Bishop Absalom said. “Sovia is by rights the property of Voinovich—it doesn’t matter who the father of her bastard is. Lady Sovia and her inheritance belong to her lawful husband. Losna signed the marriage contract before his execution, which predates Earl Hök’s claim to her. And who knows if this child will even live to maturity to inherit the property? The decree by Sigurd simply states his eldest living heir inherits Toraslotte and its holdings.”
The bishop had just bluntly threatened the life of the boy. Hök grabbed hold of his wife’s hand and squeezed, silently ordering her to be silent and calm.
“I never wed Voinovich,” Sovia yelled, starting to lose control. “King Magnus Erlingson would have been the one to approve my union with Voinovich if ever one was actually written—not some corrupt priest from Kiev who clearly signed that piece of paper for his own political ambition. Whatever that scroll says, is a lie.”
“Tsk, tsk, my kotik,” Voinovich said, in a voice that was far too intimate. Sovia flinched. “You are not one to speak of lies. You have not known the truth for your entire life. Come to me now. Speak the truth to King Sverre and I will forgive you. You do not want to anger me, no?” Voinovich was the father of the boy, but it was also clear that Sovia genuinely feared and loathed the Rus man.
Hök took his wife’s arm firmly and pushed her into Stål’s side, before taking her child and placing him by Aron’s side. No matter what web of lies was being flung around the hall, the Magnussons’ political value could not be disputed. The sooner King Sverre and Bishop Absalom realized that, the safer Sovia and her child would be.
“Earl Hök, come sit by me,” King Sverre said. “I believe you have misunderstood this entire situation. I apologize for not making it more clear. I have worked out a deal with Bishop Absalom that is beneficial for all. Please come, let us discuss these matter as friends. This is a time for celebrating, not bickering.” He gestured for Hök to sit.
Hök held his ground. Not until Voinovich was out of the hall and out of Norway, for that matter, would Hök sit.
“Clear the hall, Commander Hakon,” the king said.
“Out! Everyone, out!” Hakon pronounced. When Hakon’s hand touched Sovia, Hök drew his blade.
“Get your hands off my wife,” Hök said as his brothers took a step forward, prepared to draw their weapons as well. Nobody moved for several moments, until Aron slowly stepped forward, the child’s hand still in his, and placed his second hand on Sovia’s side, and led them to a table near the back of the hall. Hök waited until she was seated with the child, Aron and Aleksi standing guard in front of her, before fully returning his attention to the king and his guests. Hök trusted no one in the hall, except his own men.
“Hök, you misunderstand, my good man. Come sit, we have much to explain. You are all welcome, Magnussons. Come sit and take refreshment,” King Sverre said, gesturing for Hök and Stål to join the circle of high officials. Sovia sat close to an exit, not out of hearing range, yet Hök felt somewhat assured that if anyone turned to violence, Aron had the wisdom and Aleksi the skill to get his wife and her child out the exit and into the protection of his men, who waited just outside the hall.
“Your declaration has surprised me, friend,” King Sverre said, addressing Hök. “When you departed Bergen after your wedding, I had regrets. Saddling my war champion with that immoral woman did not seem fair. So I made inquires and was informed by Jarl Brosa that you and your family considered Losna and his daughter your enemies, and that since Lady Sovia had come into your family’s keep, she had been securely locked in a chamber and rightly treated as your enemy.”
“She was ill, Your Majesty. She was kept above stairs to rest and regain her health,” Hök said.
“That was not the report I received,” Bishop Absalom said, and tossed another scroll onto the table. “She threatened to kill herself and nearly has twice. This talk of love between you and your wife is baseless. You are not the father of her child. You hold no likeness to the boy, while Sir Voinovich clearly does.”
“I see no likeness of the Rus in my nephew. The child’s eyes are light blue, but so are my brother Ansgar’s,” Stål said.
“It matters not,” the bishop held up the scroll again. “The contract was signed by Losna.”
“That is nothing more than paper, Your Excellence,” Hök said. “I have witnesses in this room who were present at my wedding to Lady Sovia. You have but a piece of paper, acquired on a distant shore that is supported by Sweden’s sworn enemies.” He then turned his attention to the king. “Your Majesty, you granted me Lady Sovia and her lands as a reward for sinking the Rus fleet of ships,” Hök pointed his finger at Voinovich. “Without that help from your Norrland allies, the Rus fleet would have fought against you, coming to King Magnus’s request for aid. Less than four months ago, these men were your sworn enemies, and remain the sworn enemies to Tronscar. Now you wish to uphold their fraudulent claim for my land over that of your sworn ally?”
“Earl Hök,” the king said sympathetically, “I will rightly reward you and your countrymen. That is the news I was anxious to share with you. I have arranged for you a proper reward fitting a champion of your worth. You will wed Lady Anora of Oslofjord. She is a pure and virtuous maiden that comes with land in the Jutland. Her father is Earl Olav, who is leader of the Lendmann party, as you know. Your union with Lady Anora will broker alliances that will turn the south to our purpose.”
“I am already wed, Your Majesty.”
“This scroll from Bishop Absalom takes care of that. Sovia will—”
Hök could take no more and cut him off. “Lady Sovia is my wife and I have lived with her as my wife for many months. The lands of Toraslotte border the mountains of Tronscar. That is the agreement we made in Bergen.” Hök glared at the king.
King Sverre blew out a frustrated breath and flopped back in his throne chair. “As your monarch, Earl Hök, I must insist you follow the well-laid-out plans of your king. We have secured alliances with the Rus so that they will give no further support to the Lendmann party. Everyone gets what they want. You will do your part and take the lands in Jutland, and Sir Voinovich will take the lands here in Toraslotte.”
Hök flexed his fingers angrily. Sayi
ng no to any monarch was dangerous idea, but Hök had no choice. “I cannot agree to such terms, Your Majesty. Sovia is mine.”
“Your greed astounds me, Magnusson,” Bishop Absalom said.
“And your corruption astounds me, bishop. I will not break my vow before God and set my wife aside to claim another. In the eyes of God, she is mine.”
“I am the eyes of God here,” Bishop Absalom shouted and slammed his fist on the table. “You dare question me? God’s tested and proven true representative?”
“I can live by only my conscience before God, not yours, not any other man’s. I will not give her up.”
“I give you the choice, Earl Hök,” the king said. “If you do not wish to have the lands in Jutland, you may have the lands of Toraslotte, along with your marriage to Lady Anora. As for Sovia, I strip her of her title and all inherited property. Which will it be, Sovia or Toraslotte? It is not possible for you to have both.”
Chapter 30
“Let us give the Magnussons time to discuss the proposals,” Hakon said calmly. “Perhaps by morning all will be well and the young Swedes will see the wisdom in your plan, Your Majesty.”
Hök stood and his brother stood with him. “You have made your alliances clear, King Sverre. Tronscar rejects your offer. You can unlawfully seize my wife’s property, and turn your backs on the will of your own people in Toraslotte, but my family and I will be departing this hour. With us, we take our steel and ships, and the future military support that was offered before you turned your backs on your allies, King Sverre.”
“Hök, my young friend.” Sverre spoke like he was addressing an errant child. “We can come to some compromise.”
Voinovich stood. “No compromise. The boy is mine. Sovia is mine.”
“He is correct. ’Tis the law of men and of the church,” the bishop said. “Sir Voinovich has a right to his child. You would be wise to confer with your councilors, young lords, before making yet another misguided step.”