In short, they would do nothing new. They would continue as they always had, preparing for an attack that might never come, but remaining in readiness for when it did.
The collected lords gave their assent to the plan, though Calum was predictably silent.
It was with considerable relief that Rudolf left the island for good, hoping never to return.
That night they feasted, celebrating their decision as much as the opportunity to see their friends again. For life held many uncertainties, especially with the threat of war, and who knew when they might share bread and meat again?
The ale flowed freely until Calum burst into a surprisingly familiar song. Even Rudolf joined in, though he did not know all the words. The song ended but the singing continued late into the night as all good feasts should. Rudolf grew brave enough to offer some songs from his homeland, though he found he had forgotten many of the words. By night's end, they all sang the same song, for at the bottom of a barrel of ale, all words sound the same anyway.
The next morning, Angus found Rudolf dunking his pounding head in the loch in the hope that the icy waters might wash away some of the cursed ale that still swam behind his eyes.
Rudolf rose and flicked the wet hair off his face. "Good morning, Lord Angus," he said. He glanced behind Angus to find a man he did not know. "And this is...?"
"Gustav Gustavssen, a messenger sent by the King of Viken. He came to summon you home." Angus looked as though the words pained him.
Rudolf did not believe it. "But I promised Portia..."
Angus sighed. "Portia will wait. More important is the help we seek from your uncle. I always knew this day would come, though Varg said it would not. Your King has need of you, and so do we. A message he might ignore, but you? He cannot. Tell him what we face. Tell him that we are loyal. Tell him everything that took place during your time here. Tell him we were honoured to host you, and that we would be happy to host you again for as long as you wish to stay. You and any Viken men you bring with you." Only now did the worry show in Angus's eyes. "Please, Rudolf. If you have any loyalty or affection for me or my family, I beg you to do this for us."
The lump in Rudolf's throat made it hard to speak. Yet speak he must. "I will," he vowed. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing out the words that cost him so much to say. "Protect Portia for me. That is all I ask. Protect Portia for me and I promise I will return with all the men I can muster."
Angus bowed his head. "I swear I will."
Rudolf said his farewells with the rest, smiling and nodding to hide the heavy heart within. By the time the sun was high in the sky, Rudolf was resigned. He would follow Gustav the stranger to his fate.
NINE
Portia met her father in the yard, barefoot and out of breath from running. "What happened? Will we be safe?" She peered around her father and her face fell. "Where is Dolf?"
"The council has decided to refuse Donald's demands. They have also sent a message to Harald, the Viken king, asking for reinforcements should Donald choose to invade." Angus sighed, a sound that sank beneath the weighty worries of all the world, or at least the Southern Isles. "Rudolf insisted on carrying the message to the king himself."
Portia didn't want to believe it. "He's gone to Viken? Why? And without saying goodbye?"
"Sailing takes time, and Donald could arrive at any moment. Or he might not arrive at all. Better to have King Harald's help sooner rather than later. Rudolf asked me to tell you goodbye, and to ask you to take care of his things until his return."
Her father might not know it, but his eyes wouldn't meet hers when he lied, just like now.
Portia took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing back the sobs that threatened to choke her.
Rudolf would not come back, and there would be war.
"What must we do to prepare Isla for the coming war?" Portia asked.
Father brightened. "During the council meeting, I made a list. Let's go through it together, shall we?"
He extracted a scroll from his saddlebag and Portia steeled herself for the storm to come.
TEN
The bustling harbour of Portnahaven seemed like another world after the strange solemnity that shrouded Council Island and Loch Findlugan. Rudolf almost wanted to turn back, to see if he could capture the spirit of the place to carry with him across the ocean. For the first time in many years, he felt afraid of what was to come.
He had so much he wanted to do with his life, and none of it involved a return to Viken right now. He burned to know why Harald had summoned him. He'd lived on Isla for so long, he thought they might have forgotten about him.
Yet Gustav was proof that they had not.
People stared at Rudolf and Gustav, as though they had never seen a Viken before. Which couldn't be the case, for two Viken longboats lay in the harbour.
A skinny boy called out from the mast of a merchant vessel, "Are you going to fight the dragon for the princess?"
Rudolf laughed at the thought that even cabin boys believed in fairytales. "No, there are no dragons left in the world, boy. Heroes have slayed them all."
"Not this one! He devours sheep and maidens and the king has offered half his kingdom and a whole princess to the man who brings him the dragon's head!"
A likely tale, though one that was widespread, for even the men on the longboats had heard of it. The details differed widely, but three things remained – the dragon, the half kingdom, and the whole princess.
Word had reached Viken, too, before their arrival. All people could talk about was this dragon. No one seemed to know or care about a looming war for the Southern Isles.
Rudolf paid far too high a price for a horse to carry him to the castle gates, where he drew to a halt, not willing to enter in case it was still Regina's realm. He was not afraid of many women, but Harald's queen had wanted to kill him as a child.
He addressed one of the guards: "Is the king at home? I carry an urgent message from the Southern Isles."
The guard shook his head. "No, he's up in the borderlands, dealing with some Opplanders. He rides at the head of his army – he shouldn't be hard to find."
Harald leading the army? "What about Varg?" Rudolf asked eagerly. Wherever the army was, he would find its commander – his father.
"Varg fell in battle not long ago. That's why the king commands the army now."
Dead? Rudolf received the news like a punch to the gut. He wanted to double over and howl in pain, but he knew he could not. So he straightened, stiffened, and said, "Thank you."
He turned his horse away from the gate, and headed for the road to Oppland, and the borderlands in between. It wasn't until he was alone in the empty road that he felt the first tear fall.
He was all that was left of his family, and he would never see his father again. Never know if his father was proud of the man he'd become.
More than anything, he wished himself back on Isla, with Angus and Portia. Angus would know what to say to make him feel whole again, and Portia would be sure to hug him until the hole this loss left in his heart had healed over.
He would have settled for just Portia, feeling her soft body against his as their embrace became more intimate, her soft sigh as she yielded to him as she'd yielded to no one else and...
Rudolf cursed. Now he had a raging hard-on, a hole where his heart used to be, a horse which didn't want to do anything he told it to, and a king to find. Who might kill him on sight, to please his queen.
Oh, fate would be rolling around on the floor, she must be laughing to hard at him now.
Grimly, Rudolf rode on.
ELEVEN
"I caught them showing off for the girls in the practice yard, so I warned them, but Keith and Widald would not listen. I caught Keith kissing Lina in the stillroom several times and I lost count of the number of times Arlie came to dinner with bits of grass or hay stuck to her underdress. Both men said they had honourable intentions and talked of marriage, but I'm afraid – "
Father cut Portia
off. "Afraid your sisters might be doing things only married women do? Well, you're all of an age for it. I shouldn't be so surprised. I like having you girls at home so much I admit I've waited longer than I should have to find husbands for you all, but perhaps I have waited long enough. Both Keith and Widald are worthy sons of loyal men. I take it your sisters are fond of them?"
Portia's mouth hung open. Her father wanted to reward them for seducing her sisters? "Y-yes," she stammered. "At least, I think so. Lina seemed happy about the kissing, but Arlie only blushed when I asked about the hay."
"Good, good," Father said. "I'll speak to the men myself. If your sisters agree, I will need your help planning the wedding. As soon as possible, I would imagine."
"Yes, Father." Portia struggled to moisten her dry mouth. "What about me? If I were to...find some man I liked kissing, would you be as happy for me to marry him as you are for Lina and Arlie?" She already knew the answer, but she prayed he might be more forthcoming about who he did want her to marry instead.
Angus sighed. "Portia. You know it is different for you. I would hope that you would stop at just kissing, and not let your feelings get in the way of what is best for you, and Isla. There is a lot riding on the man you choose to marry, and with war coming...we must wait and see. A marriage alliance to the right man at the right time might save us. You are too precious to waste. Instead, I must keep you safe. I have spoken to the other lords on the council, and they have agreed to send some of their best warriors to be your personal guard. They will arrive..."
Father kept talking, but Portia stopped listening.
Inwardly, she breathed a sigh of relief that she would not be asked to marry any man yet.
When the time came, she would do what was best for Isla and the rest of the Southern Isles, but was it too much to ask that she might be allowed to marry for love?
TWELVE
Shouts and singing rang out across the valley, punctuated by calls for more ale. Rudolf was surely home, for that was the sound he remembered most. He'd had to sneak into the feasts he'd remembered, for he'd been too young to attend as a full man before he'd left Viken for the Southern Isles, but now he was a man he could take part in full measure.
Would they remember him? Accept him as the man he'd become, or think of him as the boy who'd been banished to the ends of the earth to keep him away from the throne that blood bound him to the same way it bound Reidar, his cousin, the man Regina insisted would be the king's heir?
They toasted the king's health and courage and long life, fearless roars echoing into the night. This was a victory feast, then, for they didn't fear an enemy hearing them.
A cheer rose up, then the bonfire flared as someone threw more fuel on top. Now he could see them – a band of men, mostly sitting, though some stood by, and a servant crouched beside a barrel to fill a cup of ale.
He'd not tasted Viken ale since he was a boy, and even those sips had been stolen, burning down his throat as he fought not to gag at the taste. Reidar had claimed to like it, but then he'd been older, bolder, closer to manhood.
Someone peered into the darkness, as though he knew someone watched them.
It was now or never.
He dug his knees into his horse's side, not wanting to be caught creeping. He was a Viken warrior as much as any of these men, growing up with the same songs they roared even now.
So why did this not feel like home?
He burst into their circle. "I must see the king!" he said, surveying the surprised faces, ale cups hanging halfway to gaping mouths.
He slid from his skittish horse. The foolish beast kicked up sparks with its hooves, frightening itself further. Not for the first time, Rudolf missed the palfrey Lord Angus had given him on Isla. Hector would have known how to make a proper entrance, though now he was in Portia's care, the horse would have no need to do so.
So Rudolf planted his feet as firmly as he'd tried to teach Portia, a memory that lent strength to his tone when he demanded, "Where is the king? 'Twas he who summoned me."
But King Harald was not here. These men were all strangers. Rudolf had been away too long. No sign of recognition on anyone's expression, as hands dropped to the dagger-hilts and axe handles. Then his eyes met the piercing gaze of the man by the ale barrel.
A man who stood straight and tall, no longer crouched like a servant fetching a drink.
"Reidar!" Rudolf cried in relief.
The boy had broadened, even aged a little, but there was no mistaking his cousin, or the way he lifted the cup of ale to his own lips. Reidar served no one; the heir to the throne had no need to kneel.
For a moment, Reidar could have been the Lord of Isla, pausing to take stock before delivering some weighty judgement. This was not the boy who'd hunted boar with careless courage so many years ago. This was a man who meant to be king.
And for the first time, Rudolf didn't care. Reidar could have his throne. Together with his horse, Rudolf had left his heart in Portia's safekeeping, on Isla. Though the girl did not know it yet.
"Cousin!" Rudolf cried, folding a resisting Reidar into his manly embrace. "It is good to see you. Where is the king?"
Loud laughter greeted him from all sides, and Rudolf realised his mistake. If Harald was not here and all those he'd spoken to swore the king rode at the head of this army, then the crown had passed to Reidar.
Uncertainty crossed Reidar's face for the first time – ah, there was a boy beneath the king still, though he tried to hide it. "Rudolf?" His grin of recognition was everything Rudolf could have hoped for. "I thought you'd sailed off the western edge of the world!"
The men around him relaxed, whispering to each other that he was Prince Varg's son, the other royal prince. Now the hostile eyes turned expectant.
Rudolf racked his brain for what they might expect of him. Gifts? Plunder? He had neither, for he hadn't gone raiding. It took him a moment to recollect that the people of Viken were no different to those of Isla when a traveller came to visit – they wanted to hear new tales.
So he kept his voice deliberately light as he spun a tale of paradise found at the Southern Isles. And the beauty of its women, though he didn't dare mention Portia by name.
Reidar's expression darkened at the mention of women.
Rudolf quickly changed topic to talk about the gossip in every port – the Kasmirus dragon that no man could slay.
Even that did not cheer Reidar.
Realising he was rapidly wearing out what little welcome Reidar offered, Rudolf bowed his head in memory of Harald. "I am sorry for your loss, cousin. Your father was a good king, and a wise one, too." After all, it had been King Harald's command that had sent him to the Southern Isles, even if he knew it had been his father's idea. Both men had seen how close the cousins were – like brothers, as far apart in age as Harald and Varg themselves. Yet Rudolf had faithfully promised his father that he would return to serve Reidar when his cousin became king.
Realisation dawned more suddenly than any sunrise. If Harald had died so recently, then he had been the one to summon Rudolf home, knowing Reidar would need him. Perhaps Harald had not had a chance to tell Reidar. With Regina pouring poison into Reidar's ear about Rudolf's desire for the throne, Reidar probably suspected Rudolf was here to make a claim for the kingship.
If Rudolf couldn't convince him of his loyalty to the crowned king, Reidar could have him killed before he could return to Portia and fulfil his promise to her. Rudolf knew himself to be a capable fighter, but he was no match for an army. He was here to fight alongside his countrymen, not against them. Did Reidar know that? Or was he little more than Regina's puppet...and Rudolf would be forced to claim the crown he did not want?
"Why else would he send me to the ends of the earth to learn warcraft from some foreign lord?" Rudolf forced out a laugh to hide his pain at speaking so ill of Lord Angus. But needs must, if he was to win Reidar's trust. "I can tell you tales of tactics their men use in battle that we would never think of. I would not have
believed them, had I not seen it with my own eyes."
"Battle tactics? But Mother said – "
"Is Aunt Regina still around? She will outlive us all, that battle axe will. I remember she caught me sitting on your father's throne once. She clouted me over the ear and gave me such a tongue lashing I couldn't open my mouth in her presence for a year. She said if she ever caught me sitting there again, she'd thrash my backside until I had nothing left to sit on!" Rudolf laughed as though it was all a joke to him, though it had not been to Regina. No, the queen would never forgive the slight to her son.
So Regina still lived. Pity. Her son would stand stronger without her. Even Rudolf knew that. But if he could pry Reidar away from her, perhaps he might still be a good king. He and Reidar had been like brothers, and the boy he'd known was no lapdog. The man before him might still be a stranger.
A stranger who doubted him.
Rudolf met Reidar's gaze steadily. Perhaps sending him away had made Rudolf the stronger man after all. The true king could not walk away from this meeting as the loser, though he did not need to win.
Almost as though Reidar could read his mind, the king gave a slight nod. It was decided – whatever it was.
Reidar cleared his throat, raising his voice so the assembled men might hear. "Tomorrow, we ride west, to where there are reports of a foreign force waiting to ambush us. In three days' time, we shall go into battle. Will you join us, cousin?"
A challenge, and a fight. Reidar knew what he was about. Even if he'd wanted to, Rudolf couldn't refuse. "The Southern Isles may have softened me, but beneath it beats a Viken heart still!" Rudolf declared. "I will fight at your side like we did as boys."
"Ale for my cousin! We must toast his return!" Reidar roared.
Another man filled the cup – not Reidar this time – but it was Reidar the man handed it to, and Reidar who then presented it to Rudolf. A masterful piece of theatre.
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