by Kris Tualla
Also By Kris Tualla:
Medieval:
Loving the Norseman
Loving the Knight
In the Norseman’s House
Renaissance:
A Nordic Knight in Henry’s Court
A Nordic Knight of the Golden Fleece
A Nordic Knight and his Spanish Wife
18th Century:
A Discreet Gentleman of Discovery
A Discreet Gentleman of Matrimony
A Discreet Gentleman of Consequence
A Discreet Gentleman of Intrigue
A Discreet Gentleman of Mystery
and
Leaving Norway
Finding Sovereignty
Regency:
A Woman of Choice
A Prince of Norway
A Matter of Principle
Contemporary:
An Unexpected Viking
A Restored Viking
A Modern Viking
*****
For Aspiring Authors:
A Primer for Beginning Authors
Becoming an Authorpreneur
In the Norseman’s House:
Rydar & Grier
Eryn & Andrew
by
Kris Tualla
In the Norseman's House is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
© 2013 by Kris Tualla
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotations used in critical articles or reviews.
ISBN-10: 1493522604
EAN-13: 978-1493522606
Chapter One
April 1, 1359
The Bell Estate
Castleton, Scotland
To my esteemed Lord and Lady Hansen ~
I am aware that my husband, Lord Andrew Drummond, sought you out four years ago on my behalf, when he was searching for my missing family members.
He was quite surprised when he received your written response, though he told me later that he held the suspicion he was already acquainted with the two of you. Drew told me at the time the coincidence was quite a story, and in the many months since he has told me much of it.
“Much of it?” Grier looked up from the English letter which she was translating aloud for her Norsk-speaking husband. “I wonder which parts he left out.”
Rydar's crooked grin displayed his irritated assumption. “Shall I make a wager?”
Grier shook her head. “No. Because I would wager the same as you.”
Rydar chuckled and pointed at the missive. “Go on, then.”
Sadly, as we are all now aware, in the aftermath of the Black Death only you, Lord Rydar, and I survive from what was once a large and powerful family.
Grier looked up again. “She is forgetting your Onkel Balder, the priest.”
Rydar shrugged. “He hardly counts. He entered the church as a very young man and turned his back on all things worldly—including his family.”
Ever since that fateful when day my husband told me of our connection, I have longed to travel to Arendal ~ the town I was named for ~ and meet my only cousin.
Rydar grunted a growl. “And that's the reason for this sudden communication.”
Grier frowned. “Don't you wish to meet her?”
Her tall husband stood and crossed the great room, the largest room in the ancient Hansen Hall manor. He poured himself a mug of ale before he answered her over his shoulder.
“I do. Yes. But it makes me leery.”
Grier's hands fell to her lap, though she still gripped the edges of the letter. “Why?”
Rydar turned and fixed his impossibly pale green eyes on hers. “Because I don't trust her husband, and I never have. I don't even like him.”
Grier glanced down at the page in her lap. “Perhaps she will come alone.”
He laughed at that. “I wouldn't allow you to travel back to Scotland without me, and you come from there.”
She nodded slowly. “You make a point.”
Rydar resettled in his chair and stretched his long legs in front of him. “Keep reading.”
That is the purpose for this letter. Our twin boys are nearing four years of age. Drew and I have agreed that they might now be left with his sister’s family for the months we will be absent while we travel to Norway.
“She has twin boys the same age as Arne,” Grier exclaimed.
“He didn’t waste much time marrying then, did he?” Rydar observed. “It doesn't appear he pined for you for overly long.”
Grier made a tsking sound. “Such a concern as that has never weighed on me in the least, I assure you.”
Rydar lifted his stein of ale in acknowledgement. “Duly noted, wife.”
“I do hope Arne might meet his cousins someday.” She shot her husband a knowing look. “Even so, I'm glad they don't plan to travel with the boys. Twins? Can you imagine the havoc three young Hansen boys might wreak together?”
Rydar laughed again. “May the Heavens save us!” He pointed his ale mug at the missive. “Now read the rest.”
I dearly wish to meet you, cousin, as I was raised alone without any knowledge of family. I hope that you will agree with my strong sentiment.
“I forgot she was an orphan.” Grier’s heart grew softer toward the woman. “And a bastard at that. Your uncle died before he knew she existed.”
Rydar said nothing, only sipped his refreshment. Grier resumed reading and translating the words into Norsk.
Upon receiving your affirmative reply, we shall begin immediately to make our preparations for travel.
I anticipate our arrival would be near the middle of June, when the weather can safely be trusted. We would remain for three or four weeks, and then return to our home and children, as well as Drew's responsibilities as a knight and courtier to our King David.
“Of course she included that bit of a reminder,” Rydar scoffed. “Lest we forget how rich and powerful her husband is.”
Grier bit back most of what she wanted to say—that Rydar was a powerful man in Arendal, and he was rebuilding his family's trade business in the aftermath of the Black Death with quite a bit of success.
Reclaimed wealth was beginning to follow.
Clearly, however, Rydar had not forgotten Lord Andrew's haughty dismissal of the ‘Viking’ sailor who crashed on her chyngell five years ago—losing every one of the few possessions which he had managed to carry away from Grønnland.
“I don't believe she is trying to bully us, my love,” Grier said softly. “His position is simply a fact in her life.”
“Does she say anything else?” he asked, ignoring her declamation.
Grier sighed and returned to the letter.
Please write to us at your earliest convenience. My heart swells with the possibility of visiting what has turned out to be my ancestral home. Because of the distance, I don’t imagine Andrew and I will be able to make this journey again in our lifetime, but becoming acquainted with you face-to-face would still mean so much to me.
With familial love and affection ~
your cousin,
Dame Eryndal Bell Drummond
Rydar snorted and finished his ale. He set the
stein on the sideboard with a thump, then turned and gave Grier a resigned look.
“I suppose we might as well get this meeting over with. Write to them and extend my warmest invitation, will you?”
Chapter Two
June 6, 1359
Arendal, Norway
Every day for the last three months, Rydar strove to repair, refurbish, and reorganize Hansen Hall to its most impressive state in years. He’d be damned if that pompous Scottish knight could find even one single thing in his ancestral home that was lacking in any way—even when compared to the grand castles of Scotland.
Lord Andrew was outright rude to Rydar when he discovered the injured man at Durness Castle. Through the knight’s entire stay in Grier’s home, Andrew treated Rydar as if he were stupid. Or worse, a criminal.
Rydar had no recourse back then but to avoid the courtier, and concentrate his thoughts and actions on fixing his boat and sailing home to Norway. The fact that the irritating Scottish ass courted Grier while he was there was a concern Rydar could not afford to worry about at the time.
Though he hadn’t said anything to Grier since Eryn’s letter arrived, his wife was as intelligent as she was beautiful. The curve of her smile, and the lack of any questions concerning his changes in Hansen Hall, tacitly spoke both her understanding, and her approval of his efforts.
She had something to prove as well, he soon realized. Grier chose him over the knight, after all. And she did so when he was completely without coin or clothing, and possibly without a home. The strength of their deeply shared love pushed all other considerations aside, even before either one of them declared their feelings.
Together they had built a very satisfying life here in the fishing village of Arendal, while he worked to reestablish his family's once-thriving trade business.
Rydar helped one of the servants push a freshly-repainted sideboard into place, thanked the man, and stepped outside to cool off in the brisk sea-scented breeze.
He loved his home. Hansen Hall was built over three hundred years ago on a bluff about a mile west of the town square, and enjoyed a clear view of the North Sea’s horizon. Beyond the islands and rocky outcroppings which defined Norway's immeasurable shoreline, any approaching ships would be visible long before they reached the shore, providing his Viking ancestors ample time to mount their defense.
Returned five years ago from a two-decade banishment in Grønnland—imposed on his family by his father—Rydar discovered that the Black Death had not spared Norway any more than it had any other European principality.
Only their isolation in Grønnland protected him from the plague, though the resulting dearth of supply ships, and the increasingly harsh winters, condemned the Norse settlement even so.
The only son of the fourth son, Rydar returned to discover that he was the last remaining Hansen. Once he proved his identity, the sparse estate became wholly his.
Now it was his trophy to display, and display it he would.
“I will show the knight my good house,” he said out loud in English.
When he was stranded in Scotland, Rydar struggled to learn enough of that language to converse with Grier and some of the townspeople. But once he was back in his native land, there was no need to practice, other than the times Grier became hopelessly lost with Norsk.
Over the last four years, she had become quite comfortable and now spoke his language fluently—albeit with an endearingly odd accent. In preparation for their visitors, however, Grier was forcing him to relearn English.
He was not as motivated as he once was, now that his actual survival wasn’t dependent on that particular skill. Only the knowledge that the knight would speak exclusively in English pushed Rydar forward. He didn’t want that man to be able to say anything for which he couldn’t puzzle out the basic meaning.
“Not one weapon for the knight,” he resolved and smacked his palm against his chest. “This Viking wins.”
“Wins what?” Grier asked in English as she walked up beside him.
Rydar grinned down at her. “Your love.”
Grier chuckled. “Ye won that years ago.”
“I win it every day,” he countered. “The knight loses.”
His wife’s sparkling eyes out-blued the summer sky. “He never had a chance against ye, Viking.”
“Never had a chance,” he repeated, cementing the words anew. “I know English and he does not hide words from me.”
“Ye improve every day,” Grier complimented.
Rydar frowned. “Improve?”
“Get better.”
He nodded. “Improve is get better. Good.”
Rydar reached for his wife and pulled her as close as he could, considering the size of her seven-months-gone belly. Their babe was due to appear in early August.
“I want a daughter this time,” he said and planted a slow, tender kiss on her lips.
Grier’s hair smelled of yeasty bread and spices; she had been helping in the kitchen again. He would need to talk to her about that. She mustn’t overwork herself.
He pulled back, his arms still looped around her neck, and looked into her eyes. “Ye will give me a daughter, aye?”
“I will try,” she answered lazily.
Rydar narrowed his eyes. “Ye stop work in kitchen, or I stop English.”
Grier’s shoulders drooped. “I have naught to do. I’m bored.”
Rydar patted her swollen abdomen. “Aye, ye do. Ye must grow the babe.”
Grier’s gaze fell to the ground. The loss of two infants, both boys born far before their time, was a painful subject for the two of them.
“Arne will finally be a brother this time,” she assured him. “This child is strong, and I feel strong.”
Rydar switched to Norse, his thoughts too complex for his rudimentary knowledge of English.
“Have pity on me, Grier, I beg you. A few weeks of boredom, living the leisurely life of a noble woman with an abundance of servants, is a simple price to pay for a healthy daughter.”
She looked up at him. The twelve-inch difference in their heights felt like twelve feet at that moment. Rydar bent his head closer and stared intently into her sea-blue eyes. He desperately needed his wife to take his words to heart; another loss was more than he thought he could bear.
Her brow wrinkled. “Abundance?” she murmured.
He huffed a laugh. “That means a large number.”
“Abundance is a large number. Good.” she echoed his earlier words. A mischievous glint creased the corners of her eyes. “Now carry me to my sofa and bring me wine and a pastry. Oh, and a book to read as well.”
Rydar grinned. “I am your servant, madam.”
He effortlessly gathered his pregnant wife in his arms, kissed her soundly, and carried her back inside the house.
Chapter Three
June 8, 1359
Shipboard on the North Sea
Lord Andrew Drummond did not want to make this journey. In fact, he never mentioned it again after the one time.
‘Twas only a moment of relief and weakness after his wife Eryn successfully birthed their twin sons—named Daniel after Drew’s dead brother, and Rolf after the father Eryn never knew—that prompted him to offer her anything she wanted.
“I’d rather she had taken my other offer,” he grumbled as he stared at the endless waves slipping past the ship.
“After ye worked so hard to birth them, ye could name them Shite and Damn and I would no’ argue with ye!” he had said at the time.
She did not do so.
Instead, she asked him to take her to visit her father’s home in Norway.
Drew agreed. And later prayed that she would never ask him to fulfill his promise.
Even so, Eryn displayed what Drew had come to think of as ‘Hansen stubbornness’ in the matter. Every few months she broached the subject, always coming around to the realization that their boys were too young to make the journey, and too young to leave behind.
That changed this pa
st winter. This time when the subject arose, Eryn began to make plans. And Drew owed it to her to honor his word.
His reluctance had nothing to do with the actual time and distance. As knight and courtier to Scotland's King David II, he was accustomed to traveling all over Scotland. In addition, he made frequent sojourns to London to confer with their imprisoned king, held for several years—thus far—in the White Tower by King Edward III.
The English king hoped for a hefty ransom from Scotland. Such a ransom was not as yet forthcoming from the little, plague-ravaged country.
Drew’s discomfort with making the journey to Arendal rested in their enigmatic host—and Eryn’s unfortunate cousin. Drew never trusted the man from the moment he laid eyes on the scruffy sailor. And when Grier turned down his proposal, Drew couldn’t help but wonder if she was enamored with the odd and mysterious man.
He convinced himself that she would never be so foolish. As it turned out, however, Drew was the fool.
He smiled. But then I found Eryn, and kent I was never truly in love with Grier at all.
Though he worried for his wife, she was taking their impending journey in stride. Eryn had never left Castleton once she arrived at the Bell estate at the tender age of fifteen—until Drew appeared, and completely disrupted both of their carefully constructed lives. He knew Eryn’s eagerness to travel was rooted in the prospect of coming face-to-face with her first, and only, living relative.
Traveling from the Bell estate in Castleton to his family’s estate south of Falkirk required three long days in a carriage for Eryn and his sons. Drew rode his big, black destrier most of the way—partially for comfort, but in large part to act as a guard.
