‘You must come and visit us at Austratt, Harald,’ she said clearly. The top table looked her way. ‘Must he not, Uncle?’
‘Of course,’ Finn agreed, though he was regarding her warily.
‘I hope you might like it there, my lady,’ she said directly to Elizaveta. ‘It is not Kiev but as a key trading post it is a little livelier than here.’
Elizaveta glanced at Harald.
‘That’s very kind, Tora,’ he said. ‘We would enjoy that, would we not, Elizaveta?’
Elizaveta looked back to Tora who held her in her gaze, willing her to crumble, but the damned woman just took Harald’s hand and, toying openly with his big fingers, said: ‘We would, Hari.’
Hari! Since when had he become ‘Hari’? Was that a Rus affectation? It made him sound more like a dog than a man.
‘Lovely,’ Tora managed through clenched teeth. ‘Perhaps for Whitsun? That would give me time to source some special dishes to give you a true taste of Norway.’ She looked to Finn. ‘We could dig up the shark perhaps, Uncle?’
‘Dig up?’ Elizaveta asked faintly.
Tora smiled at her.
‘Shark meat is poisonous so it has to be left under large stones to crush the toxins from it.’
‘For . . . for how long?’ The Rus girl’s wretched olive skin had gone pleasingly green.
‘About three months.’
‘But how does it stay fresh?’
‘Fresh? Oh, it doesn’t stay fresh but a little fermentation adds to the flavour. It used to be Harald’s favourite dish, did it not, Harald?’
‘Maybe,’ Elizaveta said, leaning across him, ‘his tastes have changed.’
‘Or maybe,’ Tora shot back icily, ‘he’s just forgotten how good his old favourites were.’
‘If his tastes ran to rotten fish,’ Elizaveta flashed, ‘I somehow doubt it.’
‘It’s a very mature flavour. One he may have lost in the sickly dishes of the south. It lingers.’
‘So I see – or should that be smell?’
Tora glared at Elizaveta who glared back but now the eyes of the court were turning their way and Finn slid himself between them.
‘I hear Count Halldor tells a wondrous tale,’ he said loudly. ‘Perhaps he would entertain us with something from the golden city?’
‘I’m sure he would,’ Harald agreed. ‘Halldor?’
The troll-man grunted but rose and, to Tora’s astonishment, a sudden smile transformed his wizened face and his hunched body unfolded as he moved out before the crowd.
‘’Twas a night of a thousand stars . . .’ he began and everyone turned contentedly his way, but all Tora could see now, with an empty space between them, was her rival.
‘You think you’ve won, don’t you?’ she hissed at her.
Elizaveta just smiled a slow, infuriatingly beautiful smile.
‘I know I have. Harald loves me.’
Tora nodded slowly. She’d be a fool to deny his infatuation with this girl, but they were in the north now and the new queen stood out like a reed amongst pines.
‘Perhaps,’ she agreed, with a smile of her own, ‘but he needs me.’
CHAPTER TWENTY
Bymarka, May 1046
‘You will be polite to the Arnassons, Lily?’
Elizaveta looked up from her viol practice as Harald came so close as to obstruct the movement of her bow. She stared at him, surprised. Usually he loved to watch her play, especially when, as on this deliciously warm evening, she was doing so naked.
‘I will be every bit as polite to them as they have been to me,’ she said curtly.
‘That’s what I’m afraid of.’
Harald turned away and reluctantly she put down her instrument and went after him as he paced up the side of their ‘bedchamber’, a dark, windowless room dominated by a magnificent bed. It had carved wooden sides and a pile of feather mattresses and furs so soft she’d slept surprisingly well every night. Harald told her it was all the ‘fresh’ air of Norway and if by fresh he meant crisp and salted and endless then he might be right.
She had to admit the beauty of the place was growing on her. Up until yesterday she’d been out riding every day, marvelling at the freedom afforded by not meeting a soul. Greta usually came with her, Aksel providing an escort if Harald was busy – as increasingly he was – and together the three of them had explored much of the Bymarka forests, lakes and plains.
‘It looks,’ Aksel had suggested one morning, when they’d ridden far out to the edge of the Nid river, ‘as if a giant cleaved it from the earth with his sword.’
It had been such an accurate image Elizaveta had almost seen the mythical creature before her.
‘You have your father’s gift with words, Aksel,’ she’d told her self-proclaimed squire but he’d just blushed, glanced self-consciously at Greta, and then ridden off up the next slope. Elizaveta, however, had paused for a moment, looking up the long scar of a waterway towards Finn’s town of Austratt and wondering what would meet her there – as still she wondered now.
‘Hari?’
He spun round and looked down on her. She thrust out her breasts a little, hoping to distract him from the strange conversation, but for once it did not work.
‘Tora is not a nasty person,’ he said earnestly. ‘I know she has been a little prickly with you . . .’
‘Prickly?’ Elizaveta stuttered. ‘Indeed she has. Speaking with her is like being battered with a mace. She and her cronies call me the “witch queen”.’
‘Witch queen?’ He rolled the words across his tongue. ‘I like that.’
‘Harald – you can’t. It’s mean.’
‘It’s exciting. You told me yourself once, on the banks of the Ros, that your dark hair made you a witch, remember?’
‘I do, Hari, and I also remember you telling me that there is more to the night than witchcraft.’
He grinned.
‘A truth I hope I have more than proved. But you have bewitched me, Lily.’
‘Not like that, not with black magic.’
‘No, no not like that but with your beauty and your spirit and your damned fiery stubbornness. Let them talk, my sweet; it keeps their idle minds occupied and surely it is my opinion that counts, not theirs?’
Elizaveta dipped her head. He was right, she supposed, and at least Tora had ridden back to Austratt to prepare for their visit. Elizaveta was not looking forward to it. She had no desire to see her blonde rival again, nor her precious town either. She was used to sparring with women – she and her sisters had done it all their lives – but this was different. There was no undercurrent of togetherness here and there’d been times since she’d ridden into Norway that she’d missed even Anastasia.
She’d sent letters to the Hungarian court but there had been no time yet for a reply and she yearned to know that they were safe and, pray God, that Andrew had taken his throne. As for her mother – sometimes she longed to talk to her so much it physically hurt. A letter from Ingrid, bless her, had been waiting at Magnus’s court and she had devoured its simple, domestic content. She and Greta sometimes talked of Kiev, but Elizaveta knew Harald was right that Norway was her home now and she tried to restrict such stolen conversations.
‘Tora is defensive, that is all,’ Harald was saying now.
‘Offensive more like,’ Elizaveta retorted.
‘Because you are queen, Lily, and because you are beautiful and because I cannot get enough of you.’ Suddenly he dipped his head, burying it between her breasts and kissing them one after the other. ‘Especially like this,’ he added. ‘When did they grow so large?’
She giggled, relieved at his change of tone – and subject.
‘’Tis the babe.’
‘Clever Olaf – a gift for his papa before he is even born.’
‘I think,’ she admonished, ‘that they are more for him than you.’
‘Then I’d best make the most of them before he arrives.’
He began kissing her again and dre
w her towards the bed but as she landed on the soft covers Elizaveta squirmed uneasily beneath him. Yesterday she’d bled. Just a little, a few spots like the drops from a needle-prick on a tapestry frame, but she’d called the midwife immediately. The woman had reassured her that it was not uncommon but had suggested that her husband should ‘keep to his side of the bed a while’.
‘Hari,’ she started but he was already on his way down her body, rubbing his hands lovingly round her bump as his tongue headed south. ‘Hari!’
Harald looked up, peeping over her belly like a hare behind a hillock, so gorgeous that for a moment she was tempted to ignore the midwife but she dared not risk the child.
‘The midwife says not to.’
‘No to . . . ? Oh! Why not?’
He was up at her side in a moment, all concern.
‘I bled a little – a very little. It’s not a concern but we cannot . . .’ she tried to remember the words ‘ . . . rupture the seal.’
Harald screwed up his nose.
‘Well,’ he said drily, ‘that picture has put me off at least. You must rest, Lily.’
‘Yes. No riding, she said.’
‘No riding me?’
‘No and no other stallions besides.’
He kissed her.
‘You will soon be bored then, my sweet.’
‘Are you suggesting, my lord, that “riding” is all I do?’
‘I wish it were.’ He kissed her again. ‘I suppose you will have to take it easy in Austratt then. I shall have a litter made to carry you around in.’
‘No!’
‘Yes. You must be kept safe. It will be a magnificent one, I promise, draped in scarlet.’
‘The colour of blood, Hari?’
‘Purple then – the colour of empresses! Finn is gathering forces for me, my sweet. After our visit we will sail on Denmark. Magnus, fool that he is, set Svein Estrithson as his regent on Cnut’s death and the whoreson has taken the throne as his own.’
‘Svein Estrithson?’ Elizaveta queried.
‘Cnut’s nephew through his sister. He was born and brought up in England but he came to Norway when Magnus took the throne. Seems Magnus, the fool boy, took a shine to him and look how Svein has rewarded that! He claims he has the backing of the Danish people but we will see how supportive they are with our swords in their faces.’
‘Magnus will sail with you?’ Elizaveta asked.
‘He certainly will; ’tis his fault we must fight. Besides, I’m not leaving him behind, nor Einar either. They’re plotting against me, I know it, and I can’t let them out of my sight. If I’m lucky they’ll take a lethal wound.’
‘Hari – ssh!’
Elizaveta looked pointedly at the light around the door that just about separated them from the great hall. Einar’s bed was the other side. He’d had it set there amid much grumbling when he’d been forced to vacate this room for the new joint king. There were only two chambers in the farmhouse, the rest of the court sleeping either in their own pavilions outside or in the alcoves on the wooden platforms along the hall, and he had not been impressed at joining the masses.
‘He could sleep with Magnus,’ Elizaveta had suggested wickedly to Harald.
‘He could,’ he’d agreed, ‘he and his fat wife both. Then they’d truly be on top of him.’
It had seemed funny then but now Elizaveta had seen more of the workings of the court it was less so. Einar prowled mercilessly, cornering lords and ladies wherever he went, binding them into his complex political webs like a preying spider. He was as good with words as Halldor but he used them not to entertain but to coerce.
‘Must you attack Denmark?’ she asked now.
Harald looked strangely at her.
‘Of course. We cannot let Svein rob us of our birthright. And besides, my sweet, if we defeat him, Magnus can go and be king there. It’s a softer life in Denmark, he’ll like it and we will be free of him.’
That was tempting but Elizaveta was still worried.
‘Will you take Halldor and Ulf?’
‘Of course.’
‘With Ulf newly married to Johanna? The poor man.’
‘Not that new, Lily – it’s been two weeks.’
‘Oh and you’d had enough of me within two weeks, had you?’
He smiled.
‘I will never have enough of you, my sweet.’
His hand slid to her thigh.
‘Hari, the babe!’
He groaned.
‘When is it due?’
‘Autumn.’
‘Autumn! I will shrivel up by autumn.’
‘Mayhap, then, it is a good thing that you are going a-viking?’
He nodded ruefully.
‘Mayhap it is – though a man usually likes to be sent on his way with a smile . . .’
Elizaveta rolled her eyes but reached down to stroke his manhood. It leaped into life in her fingers.
‘Don’t worry – I will make you smile, Harald Sigurdsson.’ He groaned with pleasure and she increased her pace. ‘You will leave me Aksel though?’
‘Hmmm?’
‘Aksel. I want him here with me.’
‘Why? You will have Greta to care for you.’
‘But not to protect me.’
‘Protect you? You will hardly be here alone, Lily. I will leave a good guard.’
‘A Norwegian guard. It’s not enough.’
‘What?’
His eyes twisted with the effort of concentrating and he squirmed. She tightened her hold.
‘Einar’s wife is always talking of how “sad” it would be if I lost the babe. I fear her intentions, Hari. Hers and the Arnasson girl’s besides.’
‘Tora’s?’ Harald yanked away, leaving Elizaveta reeling. ‘You’re accusing Tora of plotting against you? That’s not fair, Lily. You may not like her but there’s no need to cast a slur on her character.’
She looked at him, confused, as his lust for her visibly shrank.
‘You accused Einar of plotting against you.’
‘That’s because Einar is a vicious, hard-headed political vulture.’
‘And Tora is not?’
‘No!’
Elizaveta pulled the bedclothes around herself, suddenly cold.
‘You like her still?’
‘Of course I like her. Why would I not?’
‘Because she takes every opportunity to put me down.’
His eyes narrowed.
‘This is mean of you, Lily. Mean and petty. Ever since you’ve been here you’ve been critical. Maybe Norway isn’t as advanced as Kiev but it’s a fine country, with fine people.’
Guilt spiked through her. She had been critical. She had, perhaps, scorned some of the Norwegian customs, but she had not imagined Tora’s hatred of her. Somehow she must make Harald see the other side of his pretty little childhood sweetheart. She grabbed his arms.
‘She told me plainly, Harald, that she would have you off me.’
He strained away from her.
‘She wouldn’t do that, Lily.’
‘Oh but she would, Hari – she did. And how do you think she’ll do that? How do you think she possibly can? She can hardly marry you until I’m dead, can she?’
Harald leaped up, pulling away from her and snarling around the bed like a bear.
‘You’re blind, Lily. Tora would never plot to kill you; it’s not in her nature. Just because I chose to marry you does not give you the right to treat her like dirt. Apologise.’
‘No.’
‘Elizaveta!’
He pounded his fist into his palm but Elizaveta wasn’t going to be intimidated. She stuck up her chin.
‘No, Hari. I was simply voicing my concerns and if you cannot listen to them then you are a very poor husband.’
‘I am your husband and you will obey me.’
‘When you command me correctly I will willingly do so.’
Harald sprung forward, gripping the bedrail so tight she could see the veins bulging on his
hands and the knuckles turning white but she would not give in. She was a Princess of Kiev and he should respect that and besides, she was right, she was sure of it. She’d heard Tora and Brigid discussing their damned shark poisons too often to feel secure once the men were gone.
‘Perhaps,’ she said icily, ‘you should go to Austratt and see your precious Tora without me.’
He stared at her for a long moment and for the first time ever she struggled to read the swirls in his eyes. She pouted up at him, willing him to pull her into his arms, to lose this quarrel in love-making, whatever the risk, but he did not.
‘Perhaps I should,’ he said instead. ‘It might give you a chance to rethink your attitude to your country, to your queenship.’
She’d offended his homeland; that had been wrong.
‘Hari, I’m . . .’ But the word ‘sorry’ stuck in her throat and before she could reach for him, he was gone.
The next morning he rode to Austratt without her, a scowl not a smile on his face, and somehow Elizaveta was alone again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Austratt, Whitsun 1046
‘Poison her?’ Tora looked up at Harald through carefully incredulous eyes. ‘I would never poison her, Harald; I would never poison anyone.’
‘I know that,’ he agreed. ‘I told her as much but she’s a wildcat when she’s angry.’
‘I hope, then, that you did not get scratched.’
Tora prayed no one was listening. She sounded so shallow, but Harald was drawing closer so she could not stop now. She’d been delighted when he had arrived in Austratt without his queen. The official story was that Elizaveta was unable to travel because of her health but Tora had seen the shadows behind Harald’s eyes and had been assiduously attentive to him. Now, as the ale barrel emptied and courtiers retired sleepily to Finn’s next-door guest-hall, the true story was coming out. She filled his cup.
It was true that Tora would not poison Harald’s wife, however haughtily beautiful she was. She had not the stomach for it. But it was true, too, that she had wanted to plant the idea in her rival’s mind. She felt a little ashamed that it had worked but she could not let that get in her way now. She knew Finn was watching her and she redoubled her attentions to Norway’s joint king.
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