by A. E. Rayne
‘Sigurd? Well, he’s the lord’s brother, of course. His beloved brother. Not by blood, though, no he’s not. Found in a forest, he was. Left out as a baby! Abandoned to a miserable fate before Stellan Vilander found him. Saved him! Gave him a life of love and privilege. A home. A family! And a brother who would die for him.’
‘You didn’t answer my question.’
Eddeth grinned, picking her wart. ‘No, Sigurd doesn’t have a woman. Not any longer. She died.’ Raf didn’t ask anything further, and Eddeth edged closer, lowering her booming voice to a loudish murmur. ‘He’s a good man. A loyal man.’
Raf turned to stare at her, knowing that Sigurd wasn’t really a man at all.
She looked away, into the trees, smoke in her throat, thinking of Gudrum.
Alys felt caught, wanting to keep Reinar safe, yet she felt an overwhelming need to throw herself into his arms. She fought against it, though, following Gudrum and his procession into the hall, watching as a handful of the drummers quietened their thumping rhythm, joining Tarl’s musicians in the corner, where the chairs and brazier had been moved away.
Alys’ attention shifted to her children, aware of the growling puppy. ‘I think you’d better go,’ she warned, pushing them through the crowd. ‘Why don’t you go and see Solveigh?’
Magnus didn’t seem keen.
‘We should go and cheer her up,’ Lotta decided. ‘She’ll be sad.’
She would, Alys knew, feeling the great depth of Solveigh’s pain hanging over the festive proceedings like a storm cloud. Gudrum was light-hearted and loud, though, moving his guests towards the high table with open arms. Ludo and Berger looked alert, Alys could see, though neither met her eyes. She recognised most of the other Ottby men, working hard not to look at Reinar, who appeared on edge, working hard not to look at her.
Which he wouldn’t, Alys knew.
To save her life, he wouldn’t look at her at all.
Alys’ blonde hair stood out in the crowded hall, and Reinar sensed her slipping away to the bedchambers. There was a sense of relief in that. He knew she was safe for the moment, that the children were, but it was impossible to focus on Gudrum when she was nearby.
Gudrum bellowed for his musicians to play something cheerful. He started looking around, wondering where Solveigh was.
And sensing his attention drifting, Mirella sought to focus it. ‘Solveigh doesn’t want you to see her before the ceremony, my lord. And nor should you. It’s bad luck.’
Gudrum nodded, though he was impatient to begin. He saw no sign of the brother, though. ‘Where’s Brother Greppa? Shouldn’t he be here? Preparing?’ Gudrum was growing hot, and he tugged at his collar. His tunic wasn’t clean, just as he wasn’t clean, and he was suddenly conscious of it, realising that he should have thought about bathing.
‘He’s outside, my lord, organising the sacrifice,’ Mirella assured him. ‘He will return soon, when everything is in place.’
Gudrum was pleased to hear it. He felt oddly nervous, looking around for a friendly face, and spying Ilmar, he motioned him forward. ‘Bring the lord’s brother,’ he said, turning to smile at Reinar. ‘I’m sure you’ll find that your brother has been well taken care of. Without such good care, he would have succumbed to his wound for sure. Stumbled into a trap, he did. It was lucky for him and his arm that we found him so quickly.’
Reinar took a goblet of mead from an old man, who whistled as he trekked back to the kitchen with an empty tray. He was thirsty, and the mead smelled sweet and enticing, reminding him of feasts in Ottby’s hall, though he didn’t drink, wanting to keep his wits about him.
And after his experience in the farmstead, Ludo was of the same mind. He didn’t even help himself to a goblet, instead shaking his head at a servant girl with a full bucket of mead. She turned instead to Berger, whose lips were chapped and whose throat was parched, but he too shook his head with some regret, turning the girl away.
Gudrum didn’t notice.
He wanted his gold. He wanted Solveigh as his wife.
But as for the Vilanders...
Swinging back around, he smiled. ‘You are loyal to Ake Bluefinn? Still? After all these years?’
Reinar was surprised by the question. The hall was loud, and he wanted to go somewhere more private to talk. There had to be negotiations, he thought. A conversation. Though Gudrum seemed preoccupied with his wedding and in no particular hurry to discuss the matter of the gold.
Reinar’s men remained behind him, mostly alert. Berger couldn’t stop staring at Mirella, who was a handsome woman indeed. A real lady, he thought, inhaling the smell of mead, a little wet fur. Smoke too.
‘Ake is my king,’ Reinar said. ‘He has my oath, as he had my father’s.’
Gudrum laughed, and turning to Reinar, who was a mountain of a man in that black bear cloak, he focused his attention on his guest. ‘Your brother spoke about you. He had a lot to say, did young Sigurd.’ He saw Reinar’s jaw clench, and it made him happy. Sigurd had certainly not led him astray.
These brothers were close.
‘Well, he was lucky to stumble across you, for not every lord would have been so accommodating to his prisoner. I’m grateful.’ And Reinar truly was, though it was hard to refrain from grabbing Gudrum by the throat. He wanted to leave, to take his brother, his men, Alys and the children, and depart Orvala before one more word was spoken.
Though, sighing, Reinar knew that it was never going to be that easy.
49
The women were all in Solveigh’s bedchamber now. Lotta was working hard to cheer her up, while Mirella complained to Bergit about Solveigh’s hair.
‘She’s supposed to look like a lady. An elegant lady! You’ve made her look like she’s going to pick some flowers. Like a young girl!’ she snapped, allowing her mask of calm serenity to drop now that she was away from Gudrum.
‘She is young,’ Alys said, smiling at Solveigh, who looked beautiful in her exquisite ivory gown. Her dark hair hung loosely down her back, almost touching her waist. Small sections had been braided by Bergit, pulled back and secured with a clip decorated with blue glass beads, matching her necklace and earrings. ‘And besides, she has to wear the wedding crown on her head.’ She inclined her own head to where the finely woven crown sat on a chair by the fire. Made from wattle and threaded with bright red berries and sprigs of fir and spruce, it smelled of winter, and Alys saw a glimpse of a forest where Eddeth sat with Raf, Stina on her other side, both of them trying to talk to the young dreamer.
There were so many dreamers, Alys realised.
Four dreamers. Two lords.
One goddess.
She glanced at the door, remembering Alari.
Wondering where she was.
Mirella followed her gaze, irritated by Puddle, who was yapping loudly, wanting to go outside. ‘There’s no need for you to be here, Alys. You or the children. In fact, it will only endanger us all. You can’t think you can trust the children to keep our secrets?’
Alys scowled at her mother. ‘You don’t know my children or me. They know how much danger we’re in.’ She caught herself before she mentioned Reinar’s name, but she saw Mirella’s eyes narrow ever so slightly, wondering if she could still read her thoughts.
Mirella couldn’t, and that troubled her, though seeing Bergit trying to stuff the wedding crown onto Solveigh’s uncooperative head, she realised that she had more pressing problems for the moment. ‘There’s no need for you to be here,’ she insisted again, trying to help Bergit. ‘Take the children back to your cottage. Or go to your bedchamber. It’s important that they don’t cause trouble. I see a bad end for that puppy if one of those men gets hold of it.’
Magnus swallowed, grabbing Puddle before he could escape. ‘We’ll go to Lotta’s bedchamber.’ He didn’t want to be alone with his father, who was likely drunk again. And he didn’t want to leave his mother alone in the hall.
She might need some help.
Alys nodded. ‘Yes, stay in the
re, Magnus. Both of you. And keep Puddle quiet. Grab something from the kitchen. It smells as though there’s a lot of cooking going on down there.’ She smiled, trying to give them some confidence, though she started trembling, overwhelmed by a sudden terrifying fear for them all.
Bolli followed Jonas, who had gone to talk to Eddeth, helping himself to the flames and some ale. He eyed Aldo suspiciously, wondering where all the food had gone. ‘How will we know when to act?’ he asked, watching Eddeth’s mouth open and close as though she was preparing to sneeze. ‘Can you see what’s happening?’
Raf heard him, and she looked up with interest in her eyes, trying to think of how she could help Gudrum from here.
For if they were planning something...
‘I’ll see,’ Eddeth insisted with more confidence than she felt. ‘Or the girl will. Isn’t that right?’
Raf ignored her, looking back to the trees.
She remembered being in the trees with Sigurd, in his tent. She’d kissed him because she couldn’t stop herself. It felt as though he had come for her. As though the gods had sent him.
A gift.
A reason for being.
She felt disloyal to Gudrum, who had certainly been sent by the gods to save her, and hanging her head, she played with the flurries of snow settling on her cloak. They fell silently, like the sun beamed silently, and she smiled, wondering what it would be like to see the sun. To stand on a beach with sand between her toes, a warm breeze on her skin, Sigurd beside her.
Closing her eyes, she saw herself turning towards him, holding out her hand.
And she heard a raven cawing loudly in the distance.
‘She’s doing something!’ Bolli hissed. ‘Casting spells!’
Eddeth didn’t think that was true, but she peered at Raf anyway.
‘Do you think Reinar’s alright?’ Stina wondered, nibbling her bottom lip. ‘In there? I don’t think we should have let him go in. What if you can’t see the danger in time?’
Eddeth became flustered, her tension rising, encasing her mind in thick fog. ‘I... I need to be alone!’ she panicked, turning to Jonas. ‘You’ll have to watch the girl. I sense that she’ll have a part to play, though I can’t say whose side she’s on. Not yet, at least. But I can’t help Reinar with all these distractions. I must see him. I must see for him!’
Jonas nodded, heading to the fire, where Raf sat guarded by Aldo. ‘Open your eyes, girl,’ he demanded, happy when she complied. ‘And keep them open. From now on, keep them open.’
Ilmar brought Sigurd into the hall. Sigurd, who looked both sheepish for having caused so much trouble and relieved to see Reinar. He saw Berger and Ludo, too, surprised by how emotional he felt at seeing familiar faces.
Especially his brother’s.
His restraints had been removed, and Sigurd felt the relief of being able to throw at least one arm around Reinar, who clapped him on the back, holding him tightly.
‘Another injury, I see,’ Reinar grinned, his tension barely easing as he pulled back, looking his brother over. ‘Though, according to our host, you were well cared for.’
Sigurd’s eyes instinctively darted around the hall, seeing no sign of Raf. He saw Gudrum watching him, though, and immediately turned his attention back to Reinar. ‘I was, though I’m beginning to think the gods are trying to kill me. Shipwrecked, nearly eaten by a serpent...’
Reinar frowned. ‘I heard about Falki.’
Sigurd nodded, thinking of the others who were gone, feeling responsible for every life lost.
Gudrum grew impatient, not wanting any attention sucked away from his big moment. ‘And the gold? Now that you have your brother, I would like my gold.’
Reinar’s smile was broad, though his body was starting to ache with tension. ‘I have it, yes, waiting outside the wall with my men, but we’re still here, Lord Gudrum. If you get my gold now, what assurance will we have of safe passage?’
Gudrum laughed. ‘I want your gold, not your heads! You have a king, I have a city. I have no ambition beyond Orvala’s borders. What? You think I want to bring the King of Alekka himself to my door? With all his men?’
Reinar had known many lords in his lifetime, and there were few without ambition. Few who didn’t lift their greedy eyes to the next rung, wondering how far they could climb. Himself included. Though while some were willing to draw their sword and kill to claim what belonged to another, Reinar was prepared to wait and see what the Goddesses of Fate had in store for him. ‘I think you’re a wise man, for Ake Bluefinn is loyal to my family above all others. My father is his best friend, so if anything were to happen to my brother or me, the king wouldn’t rest until our killers were torn to pieces.’
‘Is that so? His best friend?’ Gudrum shrugged, looking at Ilmar in mock surprise. Ilmar shrugged back, though his attention was quickly on the doors which were dragged open to welcome in Brother Greppa, whose thick hair was decorated with a white crown of snow. ‘Looks as though we can get things moving. We’ll talk after my wedding. The quicker we get through the ceremony and all that chanting, the sooner we start the drinking!’ Which wasn’t entirely true, Gudrum realised, having been drinking since the sun came up. He felt dizzy, slightly merry, but mostly on edge. And realising that none of those feelings were particularly constructive, he put down his ale and straightened his tunic, sharpening his gaze. ‘Make yourselves at home, for the ceremony will begin shortly.’ And eyeing Reinar, he swept an arm around Ilmar’s back, disappearing down the corridor.
Sigurd was relieved to see them both go, and he spun around, unable to see Raf.
‘Your dreamer’s with Eddeth,’ Reinar whispered, sensing what was on Sigurd’s mind. ‘A hostage.’
‘And the other one? Mirella? What’s she up to?’
‘No idea,’ Reinar said, eyes on Berger, who was sucking down an oyster.
‘I’ll keep an eye on her,’ Berger offered, happy to assign himself that task. ‘You worry about Gudrum.’
‘How do we get out of here?’ Sigurd hissed, seeing that Gudrum was already on his way back. ‘They’ll kill us.’
‘They’ll try,’ Reinar murmured, watching the new Lord of Orvala approaching again. ‘They’ll certainly try.’
Feeling satisfied with Solveigh’s appearance, Mirella turned back to Ilmar, who had just arrived, hovering awkwardly in the doorway.
Solveigh looked breathtaking, though she was Gudrum’s, and the other women glared at him as though he was an intrusion they didn’t need. Not one of them appeared in a hurry, but it was his job to move them all along, so he wasn’t particularly bothered about what they thought. ‘The brother has everything ready outside,’ Ilmar grumbled for the third time. ‘We need to go! Can’t you hear the drummers? They’re waiting on the lady!’ There was some sympathy in his eyes when he glanced at Solveigh, for there was surely no sadder creature in all of Orvala. She looked as though, let go by Bergit and Alys, she would simply collapse to the floor.
‘Yes, we must go,’ Mirella agreed, hearing the snorting of a horse in her ears. She wondered what Raf was doing, her thoughts scattering unhelpfully. ‘Your new husband awaits, as do the gods. They will watch over you now, Solveigh. Brother Greppa will ask them to bless and protect you.’
Alys doubted that would comfort Solveigh after all she’d been through, but she squeezed her arm, leading her towards the door. ‘I’ll be with you, and I’ll help you. Bergit too.’ She could see the concern for Solveigh in Bergit’s eyes, and it softened her feelings towards the orange-haired woman, though anyone not feeling pity for Solveigh had to have a heart of stone.
‘Hurry up!’ Mirella snapped, tired of listening to everyone’s droning thoughts. ‘We must begin!’
Lotta sighed, turning to the bedchamber door. Puddle was sound asleep, and she was already feeling bored. ‘I wish we could go and see.’
‘The sacrifice? You want to see the sacrifice?’ Magnus was surprised. ‘I thought you hated blood.’
‘I don’t mind b
lood,’ Lotta insisted. ‘Blood is part of life. So is death. I’m not afraid of either.’
Magnus wondered what she was talking about, though he wasn’t really listening. He knew that Reinar and Sigurd Vilander were down in the hall.
He felt on edge, wanting to be with them.
He was desperate to be useful. To help them all escape.
Fearing that they wouldn’t be able to.
Lotta leaned over her brother, resting her hands on top of his head.
‘What are you doing?’ he grumbled, shaking her off.
‘Your thoughts are too loud. I’m trying to quieten them down so I can sleep.’
‘What? Sleep?’ Magnus watched his sister as she plonked the sleeping puppy on the bed, curling up beside him. ‘But it’s morning. We only just woke up!’
‘You want to help, don’t you, Magnus? Help Grandfather and Mama and Vik? The Vilanders too. And poor Solveigh.’ She frowned. ‘I think we could even help Bergit, for Ulrick’s sake. He loves her, you know, though I’ve no idea why!’ Lotta sighed, lying down, having no understanding of grown-ups and love. She dismissed it all, though, closing her eyes. ‘So if we’re going to help them, I have to know what everyone’s planning. No one will tell us. Not even Mama! So, I have to have a dream.’
Magnus nodded, though Lotta didn’t see him. He picked up the fur folded at the end of the bed and pulled it over his sister before heading to a stool by the fire, one eye on the door as he watched her sleep.
Gudrum’s bride was the unhappiest creature he’d ever seen, Ludo thought as Solveigh walked past him, staring off into the distance. She looked so forlorn that it was impossible to admire her fine dress or her wedding crown or her beautiful face. Though he still stared at her, transfixed.
Gudrum didn’t appear to notice that anything was amiss as he took Solveigh’s hand, his grotesque face contorting into a smile so broad and satisfied that his eyes almost disappeared.
