Astrid sucked in her breath. ‘You are far too arrogant, Ivar. Some day, your pride will destroy you.’
‘Ivar.’ Thyre came into the room and stopped as she realised another woman was there. She straightened the far-too-short apron dress that Annis had lent her and swept into a low curtsy. ‘You must be Asger’s mother. His eyes are like yours.’
The change in Astrid was immediate. Gone was the overbearing sister and in her place, the doting mother. Ivar shook his head in wonder. Thyre had managed exactly the right note. It was as if she had an instinct with people. ‘You brought my son home.’
‘Ivar guided the boat home,’ Thyre said swiftly. ‘Without his leadership, the boat would have been lost.’
‘Asger tells a different tale.’
‘He is young and impressionable.’ Thyre smoothed the skirt of the apron dress. She liked Astrid instinctively. The way she had chided Ivar showed that she did love her brother.
‘I wanted to make sure I properly honoured the lady who saved my son’s life, even if no one else did.’ Astrid gave Ivar a dark look. ‘If there is ever anything in my power that I can do for you, I will.’
Thyre ignored Ivar’s low growl. ‘That is very kind of you, Astrid. I thank you for the sentiment.’
‘Astrid, Thyre is my concubine and that is the end of the matter.’
‘She saved my son. She saved you. Think on that and then tell me that she is not due honour.’ Astrid’s eyes flashed, making her look like a feminine version of Ivar. ‘I refuse to argue with you, brother, and I know when you think about it, you will realise that I am correct.’
She nodded to Thyre and departed in a swirl of skirts and shawls.
‘Do not even think about it,’ Ivar barked.
‘Think about what?’ Thyre concentrated on the fire. There were so many reasons why it would be wrong to involve Astrid.
‘Using my sister. She dislikes court and is not one of the queen’s favourites. She has no influence.’
‘Your sister offered to help me. To decline her help would be rude. And you are not interested in my family’s fate.’
‘Do not try to twist me or my sister about your fingers, Thyre. I know what you are on about. Remember I was married to a woman who took pleasure in manipulating me. I am immune to tears.’
‘I was wrong earlier.’ Thyre bowed her head. ‘You have no idea about me. I do not use people.’
‘If you try to manipulate me again, you will lose,’ he said, reaching for his leather jerkin. ‘Not everything has been unloaded from the boat. I will go out and you will remain here, recovering in safety.’
‘I…I understand.’ A huge weight settled on Thyre’s chest.
‘Allow me to protect you.’ He put a finger against her lips. ‘My steward will watch over the house and make sure you do not leave and that you are not bothered by well-wishers.’
‘After all I have done, you are making me a prisoner? I am no thrall!’
‘For once, Thyre, will you obey me? This is my country, not yours!’
‘I never asked to be brought here! I am doing the best I can!’ Thyre began to pace the room. ‘You promised to help Ragnfast. And nothing is being done. No felag. Nothing. They could…could…’A huge lump rose in her throat.
‘You are mistaken. Only the king can make a felag.’
‘How can King Thorkell if he knows nothing?’ Thyre placed her hands on her hips. ‘You have little knowledge of the situation. Take me to him. Let me plead my cause. My mother—’
‘Credit me with some intelligence, Thyre!’ Ivar made a cutting motion with his hand. ‘When the time is right, I will mention it to the king. That is the end of the discussion.’
He stormed from the room without waiting for an answer.
‘I can’t risk your life after you saved mine.’ She sank to the floor and rested her head against her knees. She would find a way without involving Ivar or his family, but something had to be done.
Chapter Eleven
As Ivar peeled the final piece of Thyre’s apron dress away from the mast it collapsed, hitting the hull of the boat with a loud thump. Ivar held the scrap of material in his hand and stared at the now useless mast. They had been a heartbeat away from disaster on the sea. Thyre had saved him and everyone on that ship with her quick thinking and unselfish behaviour. But if Asa was correct, she was in danger in Kaupang from the king. How could he explain that to her?
‘Asa is up to her old schemes.’ Vikar announced, climbing aboard the ship.
‘Should this concern me?’ Ivar lifted one brow and turned from the fallen mast. ‘Since when have Asa’s actions ever affected what I do? Or how my life is led?’
‘Sela thinks it should. She is worried about your concubine’s prospects.’
‘Why should Asa be bothered about my concubine?’ Ivar stared at his friend in amazement. He had hoped that after their conversation yesterday, Asa would choose to ignore Thyre’s existence, but for some reason the queen disliked her. ‘I kept Thyre away from Asa because she was not suitably attired. There was no disrespect intended.’
‘Sela thinks it is because she hates it when another woman triumphs. Asa has re-issued her decree about concubines not being welcome at Viken feasts and made several comments about concubines who wish to draw attention to their exploits. Sela is certain that it is pure spite.’ Vikar rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. ‘Sela sometimes sees more than I do. She insisted that I say something to you to put you on your guard. And I have learnt the hard way to trust Sela’s judgement.’
‘Sela is hardly one of Asa’s greatest supporters.’
‘Sela understands Asa better than I do, better than any man.’ Vikar ran his hand through his hair. ‘The women’s court is not nearly as straightforward as the Storting. The queen often prefers to hide her true purpose.’
Ivar took a piece of damaged wood from the ship and pretended to examine it. He had come out to the harbour to leave these troubles behind. Out here he could usually forget about the court strictures and the difficulties. However, every inch of the hull reminded him of Thyre and how she had saved them with her quick thinking. ‘Who am I to believe? Asa wants the best for me. She feels guilty about Edda, and the way she died. She feels that Edda should have had a place in court as Edda had begged for, rather than allowing her to remain on the estate.’
‘Asa does appear to be going to a lot of trouble over this feast.’ Vikar made a show of straightening his cloak, rather than meeting Ivar’s eyes. ‘I hear she has handpicked the servers for the high table—all highly eligible women with Danish connections. Your quiet life in the arms of your new concubine does not stand a chance.’
Ivar snapped a piece of board with his hand. Matchmaking was at the root of this trouble. ‘Asa is merely pleased that the ship returned from Birka and brought her spices. She wishes to honour me.’
Vikar took the board from him. ‘The last time she handpicked servers at a feast, she was trying to marry me off. It is why we left on the felag to the north.’
‘And you returned married, thereby ending her grand scheme.’
Vikar’s eyes took on a faraway look. ‘Marriage is a wonderful institution. There is something to be said for coming home to your wife.’
‘I was married once.’ Ivar regarded the white caps on the harbour. The long-suppressed memories of Edda crowded his brain. She had had her faults, but in the end he could not love her as she deserved. He had wanted her to take more control of her life and to run his estate, instead of being at the queen’s beck and call the entire time. And she had done as he had ordered, then she had died—alone and pregnant.
‘But yours was a happy marriage.’ Vikar raised an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue. ‘Or so I always thought.’
Ivar put his hand on the mast and gripped a tiny scrap of Thyre’s apron dress. Asa’s oblique warning about Thorkell’s hatred of the Ranriken royal family rang in his ears and he knew there could be no compromise. ‘Why should I settle for any
thing less?’
‘Why indeed?’ Vikar put his hand on Ivar’s shoulder. ‘There are all sorts of happiness. But do not let your former marriage cast a long shadow.’
Ivar frowned. He had to approach the problem from a different angle, much as he had solved the problem of the need to skim over the waves, rather than having the ship be buffeted by them. Ivar tapped a finger against the wood. ‘Vikar, is your father-in-law in Kaupang?’
‘Bose?’ Vikar ran his hand through his hair. ‘He decided to stay in the north with Kjartan. Kjartan is busy with the horses. The boy never stops riding. I will say this for Bose the Dark, he adores his grandchildren. Was there any particular reason?’
Ivar swore under his breath. One more avenue closed. If anyone knew the truth, it would have been Bose. Although getting him to tell the truth might be a different matter. The answer to his problem lay in the past. Vikar and Haakon were too young to truly remember the Ranriken Swan Princess and he could hardly ask Astrid without alerting her to the identity of Thyre’s mother and possibly putting her in danger should King Thorkell turn against Thyre. He had to consider everyone and not just his own wishes. ‘I had hoped to use his memory. I wanted to know more about the time when the Swan Princess was here and why she left. The skalds have distorted the story, or so Thyre’s stepfather claimed. I wondered if her story was at the root of the trouble with Ranrike.’
‘You are asking the wrong man.’ Vikar shrugged his shoulder. ‘I was not at court when the Swan Princess came to stay, but I have heard the story that Bose tells. Sela says that there is always another truth, a deeper truth in her father’s stories. The Swan Princess did vanish. And I believe Thorkell was devastated and threatened to run Bose through when he returned from hunting.’
‘It is the other truth that I am interested in.’ Ivar leant forwards and dropped his voice. ‘Can you ask Sela if she remembers anything, no matter how insignificant it might seem?’
‘And you think it is the reason that the Ranrike have been attacking our ships?’ Vikar shook his head. ‘The tale I heard was that one night she flew too fast and too long and failed to find a resting place before she turned back into a woman. With her final word, she cursed the strait between Viken and Ranrike. King Thorkell fears her curse.’
‘The mystery intrigues me.’ Ivar closed his hand around the hilt of Thyre’s dagger. The swan shape bit into his palm. Until he understood the past, he could not protect her from the future. ‘For too long we believed in the curse without questioning the source.’
The fire that had blazed so brightly before Ivar had left the house that morning was now a pile of ash and cinder. The thralls had refused to feed the fire, saying that Ivar had not left specific instructions and that it could be easily lit when he returned.
There had to be a way of ensuring Ragnfast and Dagmar were safe without making things worse with Ivar. Thyre paced the floor of Ivar’s house. She had considered a dozen plans and rejected them all as being unworkable. She could find no other way around it. She had to speak with King Thorkell and confess the truth. She could not ask Ivar to do it for her. She had to do this on her own. Her mother had sworn that King Thorkell would listen if approached in the correct manner. King Thorkell was no tyrant like her uncle, King Mysing. But Ragnfast had remained unconvinced. The dagger he had given her mother had had a darker purpose—to kill any girl child she might bear. As a baby, Thyre had been sickly and had hovered between life and death for many months. It had only been her mother’s determination that saved her. Was it any wonder that her mother had refused to pay homage to the custom?
She wished she knew why her mother had kept the gift, instead of throwing it far out to sea. Had her mother thought the same as Ragnfast? Was there something else?
Thyre stirred the embers with a stick, causing sparks to leap up and dance. In the twisting flames, she thought she could see Dagmar begging her to help them as the hall was overrun with Sigmund’s warriors, bent on revenge. Despite the warm room, a cold shiver went through her. Something had to be done to save them from that fate. And she had to do it with or without Ivar’s assistance.
The welcome-home feast was her only hope of ensuring a felag was sent to rescue Ragnfast and Dagmar, regardless of what Ivar thought. She had to try or die.
She would have to go, hand King Thorkell the dagger, and demand he save the family of the Ranriken Swan Princess. Before she changed her mind, Thyre ransacked the trunks from the ship but the dagger had vanished.
Thyre pressed her palms against her eyes, trying to recall the last place she had seen it. On the hull of the ship, just after she had killed Sigmund. It probably rested there.
She grabbed her shawl and started towards the door. The huge bulk of Ivar’s steward blocked her way.
‘What does the lady require?’
‘I wish to go out, down to the harbour.’
‘The master has forbidden it. You are to rest.’
‘Can I go and make sure? I believe he is down at the harbour.’
‘The master’s order was quite specific. You are to rest. Nothing is to disturb you except the Lady Annis.’
Thyre crossed her arms. ‘You will regret this. When Ivar returns…’
‘When the master returns, you may speak with him. I am only his servant.’ The steward turned on his heel, leaving Thyre fuming in the chamber.
She would have to do it. She would have to brave the feast and her father without proof. It no longer mattered that Ragnfast had predicted her death should the Viken king learn the truth about her parentage.
But how could she get in if Ivar had forbidden it?
Thyre tapped her finger against the table, considering the problem.
‘The Ladies Annis and Sela wish to visit,’ Ivar’s steward announced.
‘How is your shoulder faring? Hopefully your dreams were not confused. I gave you a stronger draught than is perhaps wise, but you seem none the worse for it,’ Annis said, bustling into the room. She cast a meaningful glance at the steward, who withdrew. ‘Sela, Bose’s daughter, was determined to meet you despite Ivar’s opposition.’
A tall blonde followed Annis. In her arms, she carried several apron dresses. ‘Vikar explained the problem of your clothes. I thought I would bring a few more choices. Ivar will have nothing for you. And his late wife…well, she was much shorter than you and I think far more whey-faced and delicate.’
‘Sela, it is not good to speak ill of the dead.’
‘You never met Edda, Annis.’ Sela dropped the clothes on to the table. ‘I speak the truth. Edda took the lead in plaguing the life out of me when I was a young bride. She was so dainty and non-assuming that she made me feel like I had two heads, and she never did anything without asking permission first. She used to sigh and say how much better things were in Denmark. It drove me insane.’
‘Surely a crime to your way of thinking,’ Annis said drily.
‘Vikar respects my opinion…’ Sela gave a throaty laugh.
Thyre attempted to keep her face bland as a stab of jealousy hit her. She wanted to have a relationship where her opinion was respected and even honoured.
‘And here I thought you wanted an excuse to meet the woman all of Kaupang is talking about, rather than to trumpet your good deeds or your past misdemeanours.’ Annis gave a merry laugh and it was immediately clear the pair were good friends.
‘That as well.’ Sela cupped her hands and said in a loud whisper, ‘I knew that if she had caused Asa that much discomfort by just arriving in her shift, I would like her.’
‘Thank you for the dresses.’ Thyre inclined her head and attempted to ignore the pulling of her shoulder. Already she enjoyed both Annis and Sela. ‘I do appreciate it.’
‘Kindness has nothing to do with it. You saved the ship and its spices as well as bringing Ivar home. Vikar owes you a debt as he invested in the voyage. If there is anything else I can do…’
‘I am going to the feast,’ Thyre said before she lost her nerve. ‘My stepfa
ther and sister are in danger. Their only crime was to offer hospitality to the Viken.’
Annis and Sela exchanged quick glances.
‘What does Ivar think about it?’ Annis asked.
‘He refuses to consider it. He thinks I am some sort of delicate creature, but my injury is healing.’ Thyre held out her hands and willed them to understand. ‘I have to do something. They are my family.’
At the women’s expressions, she rapidly explained why she was responsible for the predicament and what she wanted done about it.
‘Asa will not like it.’ Annis pressed her lips together and started to arrange various herbs on the table.
‘Annis, Thyre will make herself ill with worry. And we both know how overbearing Viken men can be. King Thorkell is a reasonable man. She deserves her chance,’ Sela said.
‘In Ranrike, it is the custom for women to be able to petition the king or the jaarl just after the skald has finished the first saga,’ Thyre said. ‘All I want to do is to exercise my right.’
‘In Viken as well, or at least before Queen Asa arrived,’ Sela said, nodding. ‘It is her family she wants to save, Annis. You or I would want to do the same if it was our family in danger. I will help you get to the banqueting hall, Thyre, but what you do after that is your affair.’
‘Thank you.’ Thyre clasped Sela’s warm hand. ‘The chance to plead my case is all I ask.’
The torchlight threw elongated shadows across the high table as the noise of the Lindisfarne saga rose in the background. For the last two years at feasts like this one, the skalds recited the story. One would think people would tire of hearing it, but always a great cheer went up when the skald said the first line.
Ivar took a sip of the mead and awaited his opportunity. A few more stanzas and the skald would finish and he could petition Thorkell for a new felag to rescue Ragnfast and his daughter. He would volunteer to lead it.
There was every chance that Asa was wrong about Thorkell’s hatred of the Ranriken Swan Princess, but challenging her directly about it could make an implacable enemy for Thyre. Soon he would be back on the sea and Thyre would need help. Kaupang could be a lonely place if Asa had set her face against you.
The Viking’s Captive Princess Page 16