Highlander’s Viking Seductress: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance
Page 18
“She could be of more use to us if we use her knowledge with the soldiers and discussions with the Vikin’s,” Kenna kept her voice calm despite Tadhg’s challenge, “To do so, we should release her from leech collectin’, fullin’, and every foul responsibility there is in the castle. Treat her kindly, and she will treat us so too.”
“This is a foolish idea.” Tadhg was shaking his head, his dark auburn hair waving around his ears with the movement.
Gavin shifted as his arms grew tense, surprised at the force with which Tadhg had spoken.
“Why is it so foolish?” Gavin looked at his brother, watching how the shorter man affected a smile, as though covering his true feelings on the matter.
“She is our slave, brother. A Vikin’ one.” Tadhg patted his shoulder in brotherly warmth, his charm so easy. “Ye ken that.”
“Aye. Fightin’ for our side, we could be infinitely more prepared if the Vikin’s were to attack again.” Gavin brushed off Tadhg’s hold. Tadhg’s smile disappeared with it.
“And ye really think, laddie, that her allegiance has changed so far?” Fergus leaned into his hand on the chair, his countenance unsettled by the idea.
“I do,” Gavin nodded, though he was not quite as convinced as he pretended to be. Idunn had never declared abandonment of her kin. Yet her behavior had changed; she was being kinder to the other staff and had not made another attempt to escape. She had admitted to not missing her home as much as before.
Surely that means she is happy here. Doesnae it?
The thought that she would want to return to her kin made Gavin’s stomach ache with fear.
“This is mere fantasy; this couldnae happen,” Tadhg’s harsh voice disturbed Gavin’s thoughts.
“What do ye ken of it?” Gavin jutted his chin high in surprise. “Have ye spoken to her? Do ye ken her at all? Ken her mind and her allegiance?”
“I have barely spoken to her, but I have seen enough of the slave to ken a little of her. She is bold, brazen even. That I have seen for meself.”
“Tadhg, ye daenae think we should free her then?” Fergus tapped his chin, his eyes switching between his sons.
“To be blunt, nay, faither, I daenae.” Tadhg stepped towards their father. Gavin mirrored the action, too surprised at his brother’s harsh response to stand still for much longer. “She is a Vikin’. Bein’ a slave doesnae change the fact that the Vikin’s have raided the Scots for hundreds of years. Maybe for longer than we even ken. She comes from a people that would kill us, murder us for our food without thought. How can ye accept that? How ye can free a woman like that?” He addressed his last questions to Gavin.
“She isnae responsible for the years of killin’. She is as removed from it as ye or I.” Gavin could feel his anger rising. One look at Kenna showed she was gesturing for him to be calm.
“She comes from them. She is born of their blood, raised by their warriors. I wouldnae more trust her than I would a wolf,” Tadhg shook his head as though the matter had been decided, “Ye cannae be so foolish brother to ask such a woman to be free, surely?”
“She is nae the Vikin’ ye think she is.”
“Do ye ken her well, son?” Fergus asked, raising one eyebrow. The intimate question forced Gavin to shift for a moment, struggling for words. There was a suspicion in Fergus’ face, which made Gavin all the more nervous, fearful that Fergus knew the real reasons for asking for Idunn’s freedom.
“I have talked with her often, faither,” Gavin relented at last, hoping it would be enough, “I believe her to be a good woman –” beside him, Tadhg scoffed, prompting him to repeat his words, “– a good woman. I believe she would serve us well if she were free.” Beside Fergus, Kenna was gesturing to Gavin again, urging him to compose himself.
“Ye cannae free a Vikin’,” Tadhg said again, folding his arms.
“It isnae yer decision,” Gavin snapped at his brother, and turned back to Fergus, “Faither, what do ye think?” He breathed heavily, knowing the loss of his temper would not have helped matters.
Fergus tapped his chin again, looking up to the ceiling in thought. They all waited for his answer, riding out the silence with heavy breaths.
“Well, I am tempted, it is certain,” Fergus held up his hands as though weighing something in each palm, “I can see sense in the idea and the arguments against.”
“Does that mean ye will free her?” Kenna asked calmly, holding onto the armrest of his chair.
“Nay, Kenna. I cannae.”
The words were a heavy blow to Gavin. He rested his hands on his hips and lowered his gaze to his leather boots.
Idunn cannae be free.
“Gavin, I ken it is yer birthday in a few days, and I am tempted to agree to yer request as a gift - as ye clearly feel so passionately on the subject, but it is too great a risk. Ye and Kenna have made a good argument, and I agree that she would be a good asset to our soldiers, but that is dependin’ on her bein’ persuaded to stand by us.” Fergus shook his head. “That I cannae risk. As Tadhg says, for hundreds of years, the Vikin’s have raided us. They despise us. Our lives matter nae to them –”
“She is nae like that,” Gavin interrupted, regretting his decision to do so straight away. His father turned narrowed eyes on him in surprise.
“That is enough, laddie,” Fergus warned, “Their history shows their people hatin’ ours.”
And ours hatin’ theirs. Gavin raised his eyes again from his boots, feeling all hope vanish completely.
“I cannae risk freein’ someone who could harm us in the future.”
“But –”
“Enough, Gavin. That is me final word on the matter.” As Fergus stood, Gavin looked around at his siblings. Kenna was looking down at the chair Fergus had left with sadness, whereas Tadhg turned, hiding his expression completely.
Gavin marched away, heading for the door with frustration in each step. The idea that there was a barrier of class between him and Idunn was gut-wrenching. He did not just want stolen kisses in the shadows or to be constantly looking over his shoulder for anyone who could see them together. He wanted to be with her. To declare a courtship.
Yet such a thing was now impossible. His warrior woman had been taking from him. He closed his eyes, thinking of her back in the dungeon when she had been injured. The sight of her behind those bars was akin to how he felt now. Barred from her.
If me faither willnae free her… he wouldnae accept me courtin’ her.
Gavin swallowed what was left of the aqua vitae in his glass, tipping it back so far that he nearly tipped backward. Behind him, Kenna pushed him forward.
“Brother, ye have drunk too much.” She shoved him again, forcing him to stumble forward to his feet. The empty glass fell slack in his hand, as though he would drop it at any moment.
“I have had a little,” Gavin accepted, aware the world was a little hazy.
“Oh Gavin, sit down.” Kenna shoved his shoulders, pushing him down into the chair he could barely see. He clutched at one of the armrests as Kenna took the glass out of his hand. He grasped after it, but she pulled it far from his reach and laid it down on a table nearby. “Daenae be so downhearted, this is nae the end of the matter.”
Gavin was not so sure. He tipped his head back and slouched in the chair as Kenna skipped away from him. Idunn felt as far from him now as though she were across the sea back in Oslo.
“Come on, let us be cheerful.” Kenna dived her head into Gavin’s cupboard. “It is yer birthday in a few days, and we must prepare for the celebrations.”
“I cannae think of that now.”
“Well, ye must. Let us decide what ye will wear.” Kenna re-emerged from the closet carrying different sets of tunics and belts. “Stand again, bampot.” Gavin struggled to his feet as he set his spine straight, clearing the bleariness from his eyes and sobering his mind.
“Must we do this now?” he asked as he blinked, “I am hardly fit for this discussion.”
“Be quiet, and I wil
l tell ye me plan.”
“Yer plan?” Gavin frowned as Kenna held up different tunics against his body. “Ye are plottin’ somethin’?”
“I am indeed.” She smiled with mischief. “Look, I may have been a little shocked when ye mentioned yer intentions for Idunn, but –”
“You called her Idunn,” he sighed with relief, “Nae slave.”
“That I did.” She tossed the tunic away in her hand and picked up another. “But I have watched ye enough in the last two days to see this is a nae a passin’ fancy of yers, is it?” The arched eyebrows begged him to be honest. He shook his head in reply. “Exactly. I also spoke to her again. She is formidable, but there is a kind heart there. Ye care for that woman more than ye have ever cared for another.”
“It is a little…” Gavin held the tunic she passed into his hand, “startling.”
“Aye.” Kenna collected some more belts from the table beside her. “So, if ye tell me ye love her, I willnae be surprised, and I have always been one for romance after all. I will help ye in yer battle for love, Gavin. Even if ye have picked a hard battle indeed.” She turned her focus to the belts as Gavin considered her words.
Love? Is that what I feel?
“Now, listen to me plan,” Kenna continued, as she passed one of the belts to him, “We have planted the seed of an idea in our faither’s mind for now. Leave it there for a while. In the meantime, Idunn will continue with her duties. The more ye draw her out to have a good impression on others, the more faither will hear of her.”
“Ye think he will change his mind?” Gavin doubted the idea.
“I think he could do. At some point, further down the line, we will orchestrate a meetin’ between the two of them.” She smirked with mischief. “If ye are to someday court the woman officially, then he will have to nae just like her but be as besotted with her as ye are.”
“I think ye are too ambitious.”
“That’s the one.” Kenna swapped the tunic in his hand. “Ye must wear that for yer feast. In the meantime, I will organize yer birthday present.”
“Present? What is that?” Gavin dropped the tunic and the belt on the table, watching as Kenna walked back to the cupboard.
“Well, it is me responsibility, after all, to organize what everyone’s duties are on the day of yer birthday.” She smirked again. “Perhaps me gift to ye will be to ensure ye get to see Idunn and spend the day together.”
Gavin smiled through his drunken haze at his sister.
“Thank ye. That would mean a lot.”
“I ken.” Kenna moved to his side and softly patted his arm. “Now come on, bampot. Nay more of this.” She pushed the glass away as he was about to pick up off the table.
Chapter Nineteen
The raven squawking made Idunn fall still within the fulling barrel. Her fingers clutched the edge of the barrel so tightly that her skin turned whiter. As it screeched again, practically squealing in the sky, she lifted her chin high, searching for the bird.
Atop the tower in the curtain wall was a single raven. It flapped for a moment, its black wings stark against the grey clouds before it curled away across the sky. The ochre beak flicked from side to side, as though surveying the surroundings from atop a great perch.
Idunn watched it with growing concern. The last time she had seen a raven, it had been an omen—a warning of darkness and evil to come. The raven on the shore of the fjord back in Oslo seemed so long ago. As Idunn tried to consider how much time had passed, she could not be certain. Her mind was too absorbed by the bird before her, with its restless sharp beak.
It squawked again. The sound grated against her. It was so loud, it was almost as if it was perched on the barrel, cackling in her ear.
She leaped out of the tub. There was little chance she would stay there and listen to the bird while it taunted her with its cry. She hurried to drain the barrel, constantly looking up to the raven all the time. It was walking along the top of the stone, its smooth dark head bobbing forward with each small step. With the barrel empty, she lifted it clean from the ground and hurried away towards the laundry rooms, eager to be as far away from the bird as possible.
As a child, Idunn would listen to her mother tell stories of the birds and what each one meant. Magpies were signs of wealth to come, the sparrow was the bringer of news, and the ravens were omens. Just as Odin had his two ravens, Hugin and Munin, that would report to him on the trials of mortals, they were only supposed to appear as a warning to those mortals.
Idunn looked away from the bird. She could never ignore her mother’s teachings. The presence of the raven at the fjord was sign enough for her. Following that event, she had lost a battle, been wounded in the leg, and been parted from her kin.
Her feet moved quicker beneath her as the sound appeared to follow above her head. She flicked her eyes around to follow it but was met by the gaze of Annas, startling her.
“Ye well, lass? Ye look as though ye have seen the Stoor Worm.” She laughed as she took the bucket from Idunn’s hands. Idunn merely stared at her for a moment, too surprised to reply properly. Her eyes looked up to the sky, but the raven was gone.
“What is the Stoor Worm?” Idunn asked, lowering her gaze again and following Annas as she stepped inside the laundry store. The inside of the space was dark and full of steam, with only a few small windows to allow beams of grey light.
“A great sea serpent.” Annas giggled at the idea as she tossed the woolen sheets in with some others in a barrel. “Just an old tale around these parts. Nothin’ but a myth.”
“Myth?” One of the other laundresses looked up from her chore as she readied lye soap. She was an older woman, with teeth crooked and bared across her gums. “It is nae a myth. I have seen it meself.”
“Daenae mind old Besseta,” Annas laughed, as she placed the empty barrel behind her, “She loves an old tale, she does.”
“It isnae a tale, it is true.” Besseta shook a finger at Annas in reproach. “Ye wanna ken the story, come here, lass, I’ll tell ye,” Besseta beckoned Idunn forward. She shared a smile with Annas first, one of humor, before she followed the old woman’s bidding and moved to her side. “Aye, sit here. Ye can help me with the lye.” She handed Idunn a bowl that smelt of dead animals.
“What is that?” She sniffed the bowl with suspicion.
“Lye, animal fat, and ash.” Besseta nodded as she passed her a spoon made of animal bone. “Here, give it a good stir, lass.”
Idunn did as she was instructed, holding back her laugh as she saw Annas join them on the benches, hiding her own giggles.
“Now, I’ll tell ye all about to the Stoor Worm,” Besseta smiled proudly, displaying her crooked teeth as she stirred her own bowl, “It is the dragon of the sea. Aye, daenae look at me like that, it is the truth.” Idunn softened her look of suspicion. “Every mornin’, it wakes and yawns, some say nine times, others eight.”
“Very specific,” Annas smiled, as she folded sheets beside them.
“The faither of the Stoor Worm off the coast here was the most famous of them all.”
“Why?” Idunn asked, wrinkling her nose against the stench in the bowl.
“It demanded seven virgins to feast on every week.”
“Oh, Besseta.” Annas shook her head in disapproval. “That is repulsive.”
“It is the truth,” Bessetta implored with a wave of the bone spoon, “The old King grew so tired of his demands that he offered a reward of his daughter’s hand in marriage to anyone that could slay the animal. So, the son of a local farmer went to sea. He drove the serpent far away around the coast and eventually destroyed it. All the serpent’s teeth fell out. Over time the teeth grew grass, and they are now the islands of Orkney and Shetland. Of course, the lad got to marry the King’s daughter.”
“What a story,” Idunn marveled at the grandness of the tale, “Is it really true?”
“Aye, it’s believed to be,” Bessetta nodded firmly.
“Nae by all,” Annas la
ughed again, “I’ve heard Laird Fergus himself dismiss the tale.”
“Well, he would,” Bessetta laughed too, “He’s afraid of it comin’ back again. Imagine if he had to offer poor Kenna’s hand as a reward? Of if he had to send away one of his lads to fight the Stoor Worm themselves? Though he can send his elder for all I care,” she whispered the last bit.
“There are nae many that think kindly of him,” Annas whispered back, “Idunn, what do ye think?”
Surprised to have her opinion called upon, she looked between the two women for a moment.
“Tadhg?”
“Aye, that’s the one.”
“He’s…” Idunn considered the right words, “He is a little odd.”