Handfasted to the Bear: Reformed Rogues Book 2

by Elina Emerald

  Once Brodie pulled Orla out of the tree, (the two of them arguing the whole time, much to the amusement of everyone watching) she used her parcel of healing herbs and bandages to see to everyone’s wounds.

  Dalziel interrogated one of the injured survivors. He said they were mercenaries hired by a man called, “One-hand.”

  ***

  King Macbeth’s Castle, Dunsinane Hill, Perthshire

  In the past month, Macbeth mac Findlaích ‘The Red King,’ had received four urgent missives from four different parties all pertaining to the same matter.

  One was from an ex-guardsman Hagan Alfsson of Orkney. Another missive was from Chieftain Beiste MacGregor. The third was from Moddan of Caithness. But it was the fourth parchment which caused him the greatest amount of confusion, for it came from an Emissary to the Queen of Abyssinia.

  Macbeth had travelled the globe extensively he had a wealth of wisdom and expertise in battles. They called him ‘The Red King’ because of his ability to turn battle fields red with blood. But Macbeth’s actual power came from his acumen for political strategy and manipulating events to his advantage. But in all his years of maneuvering, he had never come across an issue as complicated as this.

  His wife Queen Gruoch came to stand beside him. “What is it, my love? You have been frowning over those parchments for close to an hour.”

  “Tis a bizarre matter involving Jarl Thorfinn’s nighean,” he said as he pulled his wife onto his lap and kissed her cheek.

  “I didn’t ken cousin Thorfinn had a daughter?” she said.

  “Aye, and according to these papers, neither does he.”

  Macbeth sensed that a day of reckoning was coming. He had to find his cousin. He just hoped that once he did, Thorfinn would not kill them all.

  ***

  Chapter 10 – Macbeth’s Castle

  Dunsinane, Scotland

  The MacGregor contingent reached Birnam Wood. Just beyond stood Macbeth’s fortified castle on Dunsinane Hill. Its grey stone exterior and ominous presence was like a Leviathan rising from the depths of the sea, eager to devour its prey.

  Orla had been here once before when Amelia was called before the Commissary to defend charges brought against her. It was a perilous journey then, as it was now. Orla too wondered what fate awaited them beyond the Castle walls.

  When they arrived, they were shown to their rooms in the guest quarters.

  As they walked down the hallway, a voluptuous red headed woman greeted Brodie and touched his arm. “Brodie?” She purred.

  Brodie instantly removed her arm from his and said, “Please keep your hands to yourself.”

  “Come now, ye never worried where my hands went before.” She gave him a lascivious smile.

  “Well, I do now so does my wife.” He pulled Orla into his side.

  The woman flinched and stepped away. “I beg yer pardon.” She moved away.

  Orla knew there was no escape from Brodie’s past indiscretions. Was there no woman on the planet, who had not been intimate with her husband? She sighed.

  “A past acquaintance?” Orla raised her eyebrow.

  “Aye, Jocelyn or… Janice…”

  “You dinnae even remember her name, do you?”

  “No. As you said, she’s in the past. You are my present and my future.”

  Brodie urged Orla forward and attempted to distract her. “Look at that tapestry, love! Is that not the largest tapestry you have ever seen? Tis amazing, the fine detail and all those bright colors...”

  Orla just shook her head and laughed.

  ***

  Truth

  Later in the evening Brodie, Dalziel, Torstein and Orla were summoned into King Macbeth’s private study. This was a privilege as very few entered the King’s private wing.

  It surprised Orla to see how relaxed Brodie and Dalziel were in the King’s presence. It was as if, they knew each other well.

  She and Torstein were the only ones who seemed nervous.

  “Come sit, my dear.” Macbeth ushered Orla into the room and pulled out a chair for her, he then ushered everyone else to be seated around the table. “Now then, what do we have here?” Macbeth turned to Torstein. “Torstein Hagansson you are Hagan Alfsson’s son,” Macbeth said as a statement not a question.

  “Aye yer majesty.” Torstein nodded reverently.

  “And your family shared the unenviable task of protecting Orla all these years.” Macbeth stated.

  “Aye,” Torstein said.

  “I believe my humble thanks are in order.” Macbeth said.

  Torstein nodded in acknowledgement.

  Macbeth turned to Orla with a warm smile, “Now then my dear cousin, let us see if we can understand your predicament.”

  Macbeth turned once more to Torstein and said, “I received a missive from your da and I think tis safe now to tell us the full truth.”

  The others looked confused. They assumed Torstein had divulged everything he knew.

  To their surprise Torstein said, “Aye, yer majesty.” He then began at the beginning.

  “My mor Runa was a lady’s maid at Thorfinn’s stronghold. The Jarl had gone away to see to matters in Caithness and Norway when his thrall… Izara, went into an early labor.

  “Thorfinn loved Izara to the point he planned to make any male child of their union, his heir. No one cared much until they discovered Izara was with child.

  “If she had a boy there would be issues over territorial succession. A male could affect Brusi and Einar’s share. They were Thorfinn’s half-brothers.

  “When Orla was born there wis great relief. A girl couldn’t claim any title. The threat was gone.”

  “Then why was I sent away?” Orla asked.

  “Aye, why send her away when she was no longer a threat?” Dalziel said.

  Torstein replied, “If it wis just ye, then there wouldn’t have been any trouble. But it wis not just ye.”

  “What do you mean?” Brodie asked.

  “A few minutes after Orla wis born, Izara labored again.”

  “But how?” Orla said before realization hit.

  “Twins.” Dalziel, Brodie and Macbeth all spoke in unison.

  “Aye, twins. You had a brother and relief turned to fear,” Torstein said.

  Orla slumped in her chair, rocked by the revelation. “I had a brother?”

  Torstein said, “Aye, yer brother’s entry into the world changed everything. With the love Thorfinn had for your mor, he would have made his son his heir and petitioned for greater territories.

  “The other Earls of Orkney, Einar and Brusi decided ye all had to die.

  “Rognvald, Brusi’s son, was in Norway with the King and ensured Thorfinn was delayed while Einar sent men to do his bidding. Your mor fought off the attackers but she couldn’t stop the fire.”

  “Then how did Orla survive?” Dalziel asked.

  “The fire had engulfed everything so quickly Izara could only save one child. She gave Orla to my mor Runa.”

  The room went silent until Macbeth finally spoke. “I have sent men to find Thorfinn. In the meantime, ye will all remain as my guests until I receive word. I suspect there is far more to this tale than we can ever imagine.”

  “Should we not just arrest Rognvald at least to bring him to justice until Thorfinn arrives?” Brodie asked.

  “No, I cannot do that. I dinnae have jurisdiction over Orkney or Shetlands, they are a province of Norway. Only their King can bring down such an order and tis unlikely he will,” Macbeth said.

  “What if ye invaded and expanded your territories?” Dalziel asked.

  “Och, tis not possible. Only Thorfinn can seek justice in that region. His father Sigurd was the Norse Earl before him, and his mother was King Malcolm’s daughter. Only he can take out Rognvald without causing a war between Scotland and Norway.”

  Macbeth was quiet for a while, then he said, “I suggest we keep things quiet. For now, ye are just Mrs Fletcher from the MacGregor clan and my special guest given my
connection to Amelia MacGregor.”

  Orla nodded but heard little else. She wept quietly at the heartache of knowing her mother fought hard to save her bairns.

  Brodie scooped her up and placed her onto his lap. He then held her close.

  That night in their private guest chamber, Brodie held her as she wept and comforted her in her sorrow. Orla knew as long as she had Brodie by her side. She could weather any tempest.

  ***

  Market Day

  The following day, while Brodie was in talks with Dalziel and the King, Queen Gruoch ingen Boite, invited Orla to share a meal in her private quarters.

  The two women had met previously when Orla had accompanied Amelia to the Castle two summers ago. Orla found Queen Gruoch to be an intelligent woman with a friendly disposition. She also loved children and for the first hour Orla fielded constant enquiries about how Amelia’s bairns, Iona and Colban were getting on.

  “How are you finding life at court?”

  “Tis most comfortable your majesty.”

  “Please, there is no need to stand on ceremony, call me Gruoch. Tis what my husband’s kin call me when we are in private quarters.”

  “Aye thank you Gruoch, you have been most kind to me.”

  “I think today we need an outing to lift your spirits, Orla. I propose we head to the Village of Collace tis Market Day today and there is always fine fare.”

  “I would love to, but is it safe?”

  “I will take my guardsmen and we can take some of yours. Come now.”

  An hour later they set off to the Village with Royal Guards and several MacGregor retainers, who stayed close as the women talked.

  Queen Gruoch wanted to know everything about Orla’s life, including how she ended up married to the braw Brodie Fletcher. The queen was a hopeless romantic and sighed several times as Orla recounted her life’s story.

  When they reached the marketplace, the queen had stopped to speak to a silk merchant when Orla noticed a familiar face manning a pottery stall nearby.

  She was about to greet him when he interrupted her.

  “Dinnae say a word, lass. Pretend ye dinnae ken who I am. Keep looking at the wares.” He spoke in a hushed tone as he continued to bustle around his stall.

  Orla was surprised because it was Malise Maclean, Amelia’s uncle from the Isle of Mull in the Hebrides. He was a Laird. She wondered why he was at a pottery stall looking like a merchant and in Dunsinane of all places.

  Orla kept looking at the pots with the pretense of talking more.

  “What is happening?” she whispered.

  “There is much treachery at Court, dinnae trust anyone, least of all One-Hand,” Malise said as he scribbled something on a piece of paper.

  “Who?”

  “Best ye ask, Dalziel,” he said.

  Orla heard someone approaching.

  Malise cleared his throat and said in a loud voice, “Och now lass that there is a good sturdy jar for salves. Why dinnae ye take it as a gift?” Malise held out a jar for her.

  Orla knew to follow his cue, “Aye, this will do nicely. But I insist on paying.”

  “Tis free for a bonnie lass like ye.” Malise winked.

  Orla saw a piece of parchment inside the tiny jar. She pocketed it in her surcoat and thanked Malise.

  At that moment one of the Queen’s guardsmen appeared at her side and said, “Come, we must keep moving.”

  Later that afternoon while Orla was in the guest chamber of the Castle. She took out the note from the jar and read the words, “Beware of Moddan.”

  ***

  Riddles

  On the fourth day of their stay at Dunsinane, Dalziel sat beside Orla in the Great Hall as they partook of their noon-day meal.

  “Do you love Brodie?” he asked her.

  “With all my heart,” she replied.

  “Would you do anything to protect him?”

  “I would.”

  “Even if it means giving him up?”

  Orla stiffened, “What do you mean?”

  “Sometimes in life, people need to sacrifice for the ones they love.”

  “Dalziel, what are you saying?” she was getting a bad feeling.

  “I need to make sure that what you feel for Brodie is genuine love, because if it isna then let him go.”

  “You’re scaring me Dalziel, why the riddles?”

  “I am just saying, given your recently elevated circumstances, there may be a time when things will have to change.”

  Orla knew Dalziel was forewarning her, but she knew not about what.

  “Dalziel tell me the truth dinnae bandy about words.”

  Dalziel looked wistful, “That’s the problem, Orla. I wear so many faces, see so many things, I dinnae ken what the truth is.”

  “Has the King said something?”

  Dalziel stood abruptly, “I must go. Stay close to Brodie and trust that I will do all I can to protect your both.”

  With that Dalziel disappeared down the hall.

  Orla had suddenly lost her appetite.

  ***

  Chapter 11 – Thorfinn ‘the Mighty’ Jarl of Orkney

  The Atlantic Ocean

  Sea spray lashed across Thorfinn Sigurdsson’s face as he inhaled icy air deep into his lungs. He felt invigorated every time he crossed the Atlantic.

  Thorfinn cut a threatening figure standing tall at 6 ft 9, wielding his sword and golden spear. He stood on the deck of his sixteen rúm, 32 rower snekkja. The swiftest warship in the sea. Open to the elements, with speed and maneuverability.

  As the infamous Jarl of Orkney, he raided lands, and he ruled the seas with blood and violence.

  Lucky in battle and skilled in war. They did not call him ‘Thorfinn the Mighty’ for nothing. Not even nature dared to stand in his way as the dragon head snekkja sliced through icy waters

  Its destination Norway.

  Thorfinn had a new King. A boy had ascended the throne, they called him ‘Magnus the Good.’

  Thorfinn wanted only one thing from this new King… Orkney.

  ***

  King Magnús Óláfsson’s Castle - Norway

  King Magnus ‘the Good’ addressed Thorfinn. He was only nineteen summers old and already a powerful King of Norway and Denmark.

  His physique and wisdom made him seem much older than his age.

  “I know why you have come, Jarl Thorfinn,” Magnus said.

  “Your majesty, I want whit is rightfully mine. I request dominion over the Isles,” Thorfinn said.

  “You speak as if you own the Orkneys. It is but a province of Norway and my Far, King Olaf II saw fit to divide the ruling share. You have enough.”

  Thorfinn clenched his jaw, “Tis never enough. I have raided and pillaged, Alba and the Hebrides so all the riches could return to Norway. I did all this without the aid of my half-brothers or their sons.”

  “No, you raided these places to build riches for yourself. I am not blind to the amount of ships you now sail,” Magnus said with nonchalance.

  Thorfinn was losing patience, “Need I remind ye, yer coffers are full, because of my warships. I have brought five kaupskips full of riches, consider it a gift.”

  Magnus changed the subject, “I hear you are to marry soon. My congratulations. Ingibiorg Finnsdottir is my cousin. I trust you will be kind to her.”

  “Aye, she is a gentlewoman, and she will provide me with fine sons,” Thorfinn said.

  “Did you know her uncle was partly responsible for my Far’s death?”

  Thorfinn refrained from rolling his eyes. He knew where Magnus was heading with this. “Aye. Tis a pity one cannot choose their family members.”

  There was silence. Thorfinn knew his fiancé’s uncle would become a bone of contention with the Norwegian King but there was nothing he could do.

  Magnus said, “I thank you for the gifts, but I have decided Rognvald your nephew will remain ruler of the Shetlands. He fostered here with my family and I will not take away his territorial ri
ghts.”

  Thorfinn just gritted his teeth. Denied again. His mind was already ticking, he would find another way to rule. Thorfinn nodded to the King and was turning to leave.

  “Where do you travel now?” Magnus asked.

  “I go to see my cousin Macbeth. Tis a surprise visit, I have much to discuss with him about matters in Alba.”

  “May I come with you? I would like to meet this… King of Alba.”

  It annoyed Thorfinn. The last thing he wanted was a boy tagging along, getting in his business. “Aye your majesty we leave on the morrow’s morn if it pleases ye.”

  ***

  Royal Palace—Lake Hayq, Wollo Province, Abyssinia

  Queen Gudit sat in the throne room, reflecting on her long life. She was tired… so tired. She had now reigned sovereign for over forty years, keeping her enemies at bay for most of her rule and destroying anyone who stood in her way.

  It was hard work being a queen.

  “Ha!” She scoffed when she remembered something funny. Then her smile disappeared as she looked out across the desert plains.

  It had been twenty-four years since she lost Izara.

  In the beginning her scouts had followed several leads, but with her nation occupied with wars of its own, the trail went cold.

  Now, there was only one last piece missing.

  Gudit heard a commotion outside before the doors burst open and her grandson Kato strolled in.

  Zenabu her advisor followed behind him grumbling. “My li’uli, I need to announce you to the Queen.”

  “There’s no need to announce me Zenabu, I think she can see I am here.” Kato grinned as Zenabu just shook his head and made a ‘tsk’ sound.

  Kato walked straight to his grandmother. Kissed her on the cheek and seated himself beside her. Breaking all protocol.

  Gudit let him get away with it because he was her favorite grandson, and he knew it.

  He was a handsome man, tall, broad and strong. He would make a great king someday. She thought. If only his skin was not so fair. The nobles would not question his right to the throne.

  Gudit cursed his sire again. If she ever got her hands on that Norseman, she would kill him.

  “Seti ayati I have news!” Kato said.

  She smiled and asked, “What is it?”