The Viking’s Captive Princess

by Michelle Styles

  ‘You will have to choose a wife, Ivar, now that you have returned with such success,’ Asa said as the skald reached the final stanzas. ‘You will agree, Thorkell. Our victorious jaarl must be married. There is any number of heiresses who would suit. Unfortunately, Ivar neglected to tell me his preference and I have not seen him smile at any of the women who have graciously served him this evening. He is too great a jaarl to remain unmarried.’

  ‘I have a new concubine.’ Ivar kept his voice mild. ‘I believe your Majesty is aware of the situation.’

  Asa gave a little laugh and an airy wave of her hand. ‘Since when did a concubine mean anything? A man can have both. A concubine is for lying with and a wife is for creating a dynasty.’

  ‘And your point is?’

  Asa’s smile dripped honey, but her eyes were cold. ‘You and your exploits deserve a dynasty, Ivar Gunnarson. It is a pity that Edda perished before you could start a family, but as much as I miss her, I do want you to be happy.’

  ‘I am gratified you think so.’

  ‘I do.’ Asa began to play with her necklace. ‘There is a world of difference between a concubine and a wife. Thorkell, Ivar is the last of our Lindisfarne jaarls to remain unwed. He must be married without delay.’

  ‘Is that your petition for the night, wife?’ Thorkell glanced up from his horn of mead with dancing eyes. ‘The custom is to wait until the skald has completely finished his recitation.’

  Ivar took a long considered sip of mead. ‘I have seen what it can do to a man. My father had a complicated life.’

  ‘Your father was a warrior to be reckoned with, a good man to have with you when hunting moose or bear. And you are the same.’ Thorkell drained the horn of mead and held it out to be filled. ‘Marriage is far more solid. It keeps a man grounded. Now, about the moose hunt—’

  ‘You see, Ivar, even the king agrees with me.’ Asa put a hand on Thorkell’s arm. ‘All I ask for is your choice from my maidens. Your late wife enjoyed her time in my court. You can understand the need to have the proper bride who can take her place at my side.’

  Ivar reached into his tunic and withdrew Thyre’s dagger, held it up to the light and allowed the torchlight to hit the inlaid jewels. ‘I believe a good marriage depends on the people, rather than the size of the estate involved. But if the king is considering petitions, I would ask him to consider mine.’

  ‘Where did you get that dagger?’ Thorkell asked as his eyes became intent.

  ‘My concubine used it to dispatch Sigmund Sigmundson. A pretty thing, isn’t it?’

  At Thorkell’s gesture, Ivar passed him the knife. Thorkell balanced it in his hand as his fingers traced the swan markings. ‘Did she say how she came by the knife?’

  ‘I believe it belonged to her mother, given as a morning gift. But it is about her stepfather I wish to speak. He needs—’

  Asa choked on her mead. Several of the guards rushed forward to pat her on the back, but she waved them away. Ivar raised an eyebrow.

  What was the dagger to her? She had never had dealings with the Swan Princess. The episode had happened at least seven years before she had arrived in Kaupang as a young scared princess sent to bolster a fragile trading relationship. The marriage, despite its rocky start, was counted as a success.

  ‘Is your concubine here?’ Thorkell’s voice rang out over the din. ‘Why have you not brought her to meet me? Where is she? I understand that she killed a Ranriken jaarl. She should be at this feast. We in Viken honour our heroes.’

  ‘In deference to the queen, she has remained at my house.’ Ivar looked hard at Asa, who lowered her lashes and pretended a sudden interest in the remains of her food.

  Asa put down her knife and folded her hands in her lap. ‘I cannot make exceptions, Thorkell. Once one concubine is allowed at the high table, all will be clamouring. The order of the court will be broken for ever.’

  ‘King Thorkell,’ Astrid called out from where she stood, serving mead to her husband and his companions. At the king’s gesture, she came forwards and stood before the high table. Her hands were raised in supplication. Ivar wondered idly how many times she had practised that particular gesture. But he had to admit the pose was effective. ‘Your Majesty, the lady saved my child, my only son. I owe her a life-debt. Ivar follows the rules far too slavishly. I believe that such a woman has earned a right to be here at this table. In your father’s day, he made no distinction between wives and concubines at the feasting hall. The current practice is a Danish custom and not a Viken one.’

  ‘This is the first time you have accused me of such a thing, Astrid,’ Ivar retorted quickly. ‘The custom has become a Viken one. And it is only for the high feasts.’

  The entire hall burst out laughing as Astrid flushed slightly. Ivar frowned as he felt the situation begin to slip from his grasp. There were undercurrents in this hall he could only sense. King Thorkell continued to turn the dagger over and over again in his hand.

  ‘I would speak with this concubine. The Viken must honour its heroes,’ he proclaimed finally. Astrid smiled broadly and hurried back to join Asger and her husband, but not before she gave Ivar a smug look. ‘I wish to hear as well how she acquired this dagger. It is…of Viken origin and one I never thought to see again.’

  ‘Honestly, Thorkell, I cannot see why you would be interested in how this concubine acquired a knife.’ Asa toyed with her goblet. ‘Perhaps I should have relaxed my restriction, but I did feel it important to maintain order.’

  ‘Will you never learn when to be silent, woman?’ Thorkell thundered.

  Ivar blinked in surprise, as Thorkell never rebuked his wife in public. Asa closed her mouth with a snap.

  ‘Shall I bring Thyre to you tomorrow?’ Ivar took a sip of the mead. Thyre would now have her chance. He looked forward to telling her and to her gratitude. He had found the perfect way to heal the breach between them.

  ‘Thyre is here!’ Sela called from where she sat before Thorkell could say anything. ‘You can question her now! She waits in the antechamber. She had planned to petition the king.’

  ‘Get the woman. Now.’ Thorkell said, gesturing to his bodyguard.

  Ivar gritted his teeth. How badly had Thyre played him for a fool? How many other people had she enlisted in her scheme without consulting him?

  Thyre walked slowly, head held high and shoulders back as she followed the guard into the feasting hall. The smoke from the torches momentarily blinded her and made her stumble. Everywhere she turned table upon table of warriors sat eating and drinking. Growing up, she had often imagined this moment. Sometimes it was dreadful and the stuff of nightmares with Thorkell demanding her immediate execution, but other times, she was triumphant as Thorkell claimed her for his own. Now, she felt neither fear nor victory but merely a queer calmness. It no longer mattered what he thought. All she wanted to do was to rescue her family.

  As she walked towards the high table, a hushed murmur rippled through the assembled throng. She forced her steps to be measured. Ivar glowered at her, but she concentrated on the man next to him, her father and the man who held the power to rescue her family. Her life was unimportant now. Saving Ragnfast and Dagmar was all that mattered.

  When she reached the high table, she clasped her hands together and bowed low.

  ‘Your Majesties, I have come to beg for your help in righting a wrong. My stepfather did nothing more than offer hospitality to the stricken Viken ship and now I fear he will be punished for it.’ Thyre could hear murmurs behind her and knew her voice needed to echo off the rafters. All of Kaupang had to hear her. She cleared her throat and tried again. ‘I come here not for myself but to plead for the innocents—my stepfather and half-sister. You sit here feasting and toasting the success of the felag, but they remain in danger. They offered hospitality, that is all.’

  ‘The name of your stepfather is…?’ the king asked.

  ‘Ragnfast the Steadfast. Once he enjoyed your hospitality for a day and a night.’

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nbsp; ‘I know the man and I know of his exploits. We raised our swords together in the battle for the north lands when I was a young man.’ The king leant forwards and his eyes were intent. ‘And who is your mother?’

  Thyre’s fingers reached for her mother’s amulet and drew strength from that. In her mind, Thyre heard her mother’s tones giving her the exact title and her admonition to speak distinctly if she should ever encounter the Viken king. ‘Sainsfrida, who some called the Swan Princess because of her mother. My grandmother was called the Black Swan on account of her hair and her long neck and my uncle Mysing even now occupies the throne of Ranrike. But I was born out of wedlock. It was my stepfather who gave me my name—Thyre.’

  The feast hall drew in its collective breath. Thorkell leant forward and the dagger dangled from his fingertips.

  ‘Did your mother ever say who gave her the dagger?’

  ‘The dagger was a gift from the Viken who is my father.’ Thyre kept her gaze directly on Thorkell. ‘She received it as a parting gift before she left Viken.’

  ‘I understood the Ranriken Swan Princess died without a child. Bose the Dark had investigated the rumour years ago,’ Asa said in frigid tones. ‘This woman, this concubine, is clearly lying.’

  ‘Am I?’ Thyre lifted an eyebrow. ‘Why would I lie about such a thing? A disgraced princess who chose banishment in her own kingdom rather than give up the child she carried? My mother married Ragnfast. Bring my stepfather and sister here. Ask them, if you do not believe me. All I ask is for them to be rescued.’

  Thorkell held up his hand, silencing everyone. ‘And why did Princess Sainsfrida leave Viken?’

  ‘She had quarrelled bitterly with my father over a game of tafl. It was the final fight of many. What they had was over. There was no need to stay when Ragnfast arrived to tell her that her father had died and her brother, Mysing, was now king. My father knew of her intention to depart and gave her the dagger in case there should be a living child. Rather than see her go, he went out hunting with his hound and hawk. Later it was put out that she flew away, but the truth was that she simply walked out of the hall and Ragnfast carried her trunk to the ship. The king’s chamberlain helped push the boat out.’

  ‘And where was the king?’

  ‘He had gone hunting with his favourite elkhound.’

  Thyre stood before Thorkell, ignoring all the curious stares and shocked exclamations.

  ‘The king was very young then. He only learnt later that a woman of great virtue is worth more than a day’s hunting,’ Thorkell said, tapping his fingers. ‘But your mother was stubborn and refused to wait. Come, woman, let me properly look at you. The torchlight is a bit dim. Why do you appear before me now? The events you speak of were many years ago.’

  ‘There is no one else I can turn to.’ Thyre waited while several of the guard brought more blazing torches.

  ‘You have your mother’s hair and her mouth, but I fancy you have your father’s eyes and chin,’ King Thorkell proclaimed. ‘You certainly have his courage. There are not many women who would have killed a jaarl, or would be willing to face a king and demand his assistance. You are definitely your father’s daughter, a daughter any man would be proud to claim as his own.’

  Thyre forced her body to stay upright as her knees began to buckle. Without even asking, King Thorkell had acknowledged her and in such a way that there could be no doubt. Her heart soared. Ragnfast had been wrong. She stumbled forwards and two guards caught her arms, held her upright. She gave a small shrug and they let her go.

  ‘What is going on?’ Ivar thundered. ‘Who is my concubine’s father?’

  ‘Your concubine is my daughter,’ Thorkell said in a clear echoing voice. ‘Her mother should have sent her years ago. Sainsfrida cheated me, but then she always played by her own rules. She knew what the intention of the gift was. I have always honoured my obligations.’

  ‘My mother would have sent a son, but she felt a daughter’s place was at her mother’s side, particularly as I was a sickly child,’ Thyre said. ‘Then she died and it was far too late. Once the Viken came and she spoke to the king’s chamberlain. Then shortly after her death, the man came again—cloaked and with muffled oars. After that last visit, Ragnfast told me the truth about the dagger and why I must never seek you out.’

  ‘We will retire.’ King Thorkell stood, and lifted his hands upwards in an imperious gesture. The guards scurried to open a door behind the high table. ‘There is much we must say to each other.’

  Thyre nodded her head. She hardly knew where to put her feet as the company rose as one, bowing their heads. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears. She was the king’s acknowledged daughter.

  ‘Why did you hide your parentage from me, Thyre?’ Ivar asked, grabbing her arm as she passed. ‘Did you know what would happen when you gave the dagger to the king?’

  Thyre looked at the white knuckled fingers gripping her sleeve. ‘You had already made me your concubine. Who my parents were was not going to change that.’

  ‘Ivar Gunnarson, that woman you are detaining is the king’s daughter,’ King Thorkell said, turning back from the doorway. ‘She cannot be a concubine to a jaarl. Kindly allow her to leave with dignity.’

  Chapter Twelve

  The quiet of the king’s antechamber filled Thyre’s ears after the noise of the banqueting hall. She walked at a steady pace, hoping that Ivar would come storming after her, but he hadn’t and now she had to face her father and his wife alone.

  ‘Come closer, Thyre,’ Asa said with a frown between her eyes. ‘I am sure you understand why we must keep court gossip to a minimum.’

  ‘Hush, wife,’Thorkell said, raising an imperious hand, and Asa shrank back. ‘Thyre, things must be said, things long overdue. Your mother should have sent you as soon as you were weaned, but that is a stain on your mother, Princess Sainsfrida, rather than on you.’

  ‘My mother acted how she thought best, based on her knowledge of your character.’ Thyre gave a decided nod. ‘I would have sought an audience with you earlier, but was told that kings do not meet with concubines.’

  ‘You are my daughter. You should have come immediately to me.’

  ‘Ivar had little idea about my parentage.’ Thyre kept her voice calm. ‘I come here not to petition for me, but for my stepfather and half-sister. You must launch a felag immediately.’

  ‘Felags take time,’ Asa broke in. ‘Why should we risk Viken lives?’

  ‘Because Ragnfast risked his life for the Viken. He knew the danger, even if I didn’t. He knew of Sigmund Sigmundson’s treachery. Ask Ivar.’

  ‘Are you seeking to excuse Ivar’s behaviour?’ the king thundered. ‘He made you his concubine. He had to have guessed about your parentage. You and I look alike.’

  Thyre glared back at her father. ‘Until my father recognised me, I had no father but Ragnfast. I kept the truth from Ivar.’

  ‘I have recognised you as my daughter,’ King Thorkell said. ‘And from now until the end of time, I expect you to be treated like a princess of Viken.’

  ‘The king also wishes you to conduct yourself like a princess,’ the queen said in a dry tone. ‘I devotedly hope this is possible.’

  ‘My mother was a Ranriken princess and this is where my heart lies.’

  ‘Your heart should always lie with your father’s country,’ Queen Asa retorted. ‘We shall have to ensure you do not disgrace him again with ill-considered words, dress or behaviour.’

  ‘Hush, wife, now is not the time. Thyre, let me look again.’ Thorkell captured her chin with his fingers and turned her face from side to side. ‘You have your mother’s hair, and her nose. Even the shape of her face is the same. I fancy you are about the age she was when she resided here.’

  ‘I am surprised you remember,’ Thyre whispered. ‘It was long ago.’

  ‘Some things are forever engrained on your memory,’ Thorkell answered.

  ‘But her nose and the way she carries her body are pure you, Thorkell.�
� Queen Asa’s low voice made a chill run down Thyre’s spine. She turned her head and saw no warmth in the glacier-blue eyes. ‘Years ago, Bose told me the story. I had him to go and investigate, but he returned saying that Sainsfrida, the Swan Princess, was dead and the child would bother me no more. I knew how the incident played on your mind. I have heard you cry out in your dreams.’

  ‘But you did not seek to inform me, wife. You have been more than remiss. I would have had my daughter at my side.’ The bellow from King Thorkell shook the walls. ‘She should never have had to endure such humiliation.’

  Asa fell down on her knees and raised her hands beseechingly, a motion so smooth and elegant that Thyre wondered if it was practised. Immediately she hated herself for the thought. A tear trickled down the queen’s face and she made to grab Thorkell’s cloak.

  ‘Can you forgive me, my love? I was young and jealous. I failed to think straight. She was happy. Bose told me that she was happy. Then the other day, I saw this woman and I knew in my heart whose child she had to be. She had the look of you when you return from the sea. After all these years, to have her appear…You must understand.’

  Thorkell held her off. ‘We have a son. For many years, the guilt of Sainsfrida the Swan Princess’s death has haunted me. I took the loss of our ships as a judgement from the gods.’

  ‘You know how I longed for a daughter, and now you have one. It was wrong of me, but I feared opening old wounds. I loved you so much.’

  Thorkell made a gruff noise and Asa flung herself into his arms. Delicate sobs racked her body as the king awkwardly patted her back.

  Thyre watched the scene with wary eyes, remembering how the Viken had come before. What bargain had her mother made then?

  ‘I do not like secrets, wife.’ Thorkell put his hands on Asa’s shoulders.

  ‘Bose said—’

  ‘You were young then, but we have been together for a long time. You should have told me today when I returned from the hunt. You made no attempt to. Enough of the tears. I want the truth. Why did you seek to keep Thyre from me?’