by Kris Tualla
***
Eryn hardly tasted her food, though Drew complimented every dish. She wanted Rydar to begin telling her about their family, but as yet the subject had not been broached.
Perhaps he was waiting for her to ask.
“Rydar, will you tell me about your father’s brothers?” she blurted.
Three pair of eyes moved to hers. Eryn felt her face heating. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so abrupt.”
Rydar shook his head and laughed. “Is good. What do ye ken?”
Eryn scooted her chair closer to the table. “Only that my father, Rolf, was a soldier in London preparing for a crusade. That’s when he met my mother.”
“We brought the letter with us.” Drew reached into his coat. “Eryn’s mither wrote to Rolf, but he died afore he could return to her. One of the soldiers brought it to the Abbey years later.”
Drew handed the ragged, blood-stained missive to Grier.
Grier swallowed thickly and carefully unfolded the vellum letter. She read it to Rydar, translating to Norsk as she did. When she finished, both Eryn’s cousin and his wife gave her twin looks of sympathy.
“I’m sorry, Eryn,” Rydar said softly. “And this is how ye found me.”
She nodded. “How Drew found you, yes.”
“We also brought the tapestry her mither made, but it’s up in the chamber.” Drew looked kindly at Eryn. “She gave ye as many clues as she might, aye?”
Eryn’s gaze moved back to Rydar. “But I didn’t understand what they were until I read that letter.”
“I’m intrigued,” Grier said as she handed the letter back to Drew. “I assume your mither is no’ still alive, then.”
“No. She passed many years ago.” Eryn saw no reason to tell them how her mother died. She shifted in her seat. “Was Harald your father?”
Rydar frowned. “No. But I start there.”
Grier touched his hand. “If you need my help with the words, please ask.”
He gave her a look which clearly said he was not a fool.
“Aye. I ken this.”
Rydar turned to Eryn and began his slow, simple narrative concerning what he recalled about the life of the firstborn son, Harald Martin Hansen.
“I was gone to Grønnland, ye ken, after I was ten.” Rydar stopped his story and stared at her. “Do ye ken?”
“Yes. Drew told me how you met in Durness, when you were about thirty.” She looked at Grier. “Isn’t that right?”
Grier nodded. “Aye. Four years ago.”
“I didna ken the Death,” Rydar continued. “Grier tells me.”
Eryn’s eyes widened. “You believed all of your family to still be alive?”
Rydar’s expression grew grim. “Aye. When I come, Harald and two sons are dead.”
“I understand,” she whispered. “Those were horrible days.”
Rydar held up two fingers. “Balder.”
“Dead as well?” Eryn asked.
“No. Is priest.”
“More of a monk,” Grier clarified.
Eryn straightened in her chair. “Is he still alive then?”
Grier said something to Rydar, then turned back to Eryn.
“We sent a letter to the monastery, but it was returned, unopened. Someone wrote the words, ‘The man you knew as Balder has withdrawn from the world and lives in silent contemplation’ on the outside.”
“We believe he is alive, but…” Rydar shrugged.
Eryn found that bit of news to be more disturbing than the plague deaths. “Do you think if I wrote to him—”
“Eryn,” Grier interrupted gently. “They never even opened Rydar’s letter. They wouldna open yours.”
She turned to her husband. “I believe we should try, don't you?”
Drew’s gaze slid to Rydar’s and back. “We can write, but ye canna be upset and ye receive the same response.”
Eryn nodded. “I will write to him tomorrow.”
Rydar exchanged a look with Grier. “She is a Hansen.”
Drew laughed out loud. “I say the same thing!”
The two men looked at each other, both looking surprised at their shared reaction.
“Stubborn?” Rydar asked, his expression wary.
Drew snorted. “Aye.”
Eryn smacked his arm with the back of her hand.
This time Rydar laughed and pointed at Drew’s arm. “Grier does same.”
Grier pulled her hand back before letting it fall to what remained of her lap. Her cheeks reddened. “I do no’!”
For an instant, the room was silent as amused gazes bounced between the inhabitants. Eryn snickered first. As if a dam was breeched, their shared laughter flooded the room.
For the first time since arriving in Norway, Eryn felt completely at home. Their spontaneous and shared teasing spoke of family. Of connections. And of affection. She reveled in the welcomed waves of mirth that surrounded her.
After a while, Eryn wiped her eyes and tried to regain control. She held up three fingers.
“I know what happened to Rolf. Do you remember him?”
Rydar sobered slowly. “No. No’ much. I’m sorry.”
Eryn tamped down her burgeoning disappointment. “I suppose you were very young.”
“Aye. I had maybe, five years, and he left Arendal.”
“What did he look like?” she pressed.
Rydar spoke to Grier.
“He was the tallest brother,” she translated. “And had the lightest eyes, and the whitest hair.”
“I must look like him,” Eryn mused. “And you must look like your father, for you and I to be so alike.”
Rydar’s expression grew pensive. “Aye.”
Eryn held up four fingers and pinned her gaze on her cousin’s. “Now tell me about Petter-Edvard.”
Chapter Eight
Rydar pulled a deep breath; what could he say about his father that Eryn would find interesting? He and the man did not end on the best of terms. Certainly she didn’t need to hear about that.
“My father,” he began carefully. “Was most stubborn Hansen of all.”
“That’s a braw condemnation,” Drew observed, his eyes still twinkling with their former amusement.
Rydar stared at the man. “Aye. ‘Tis.”
Eryn tilted her head. “What makes you say such a thing?”
“First, my father was…” Rydar looked to Grier for the word.
She smiled. “Chamberlain.”
Rydar nodded his thanks. “Aye, for Harald.”
“Your father was in charge of the accounts for Hansen Hall,” Eryn clarified. “Working for the eldest son.”
“Aye.” Rydar’s brow lowered. “The brothers make…”
He bashed his fists together.
“They argued about something,” Grier interpreted.
“Aye. And is bad. Very, very bad.” Rydar wagged his head. “My father has family and goes on ship.”
Eryn looked shocked. “Your father took your family and sailed away from Arendal?”
“Aye. To Grønnland.” Rydar shuddered at the terrible memory. Not only was their sudden departure frightening to him as a boy of only ten years, but the next twenty years spent in that hellish settlement nearly killed him.
“What did they fight about?” Drew asked.
Rydar glanced at Drew, then returned his regard to Eryn. “Is never said.”
“Never?” Eryn shook her head in disbelief. “Even before he died?”
“No.”
“And when you returned, Harald was dead as well. So you never discovered what their anger was about.” Eryn heaved a sigh. “That is so sad.”
Grier turned to Rydar. “Your father said the one thing to ye.”
Drew spoke up again. “What was that?”
Rydar looked at Grier. “Min kammer bak mantelen.”
She nodded. “My chamber behind the mantle.”
Eryn frowned. “What did that mean?”
“Is where paper is. Says I am Hansen.
”
“In Grønnland?”
“No.” Rydar pointed at the ceiling. “Here.”
“We found it after we returned,” Grier explained. “Once Harald and his sons died, the Hansen steward, Sander Jakobsen, began calling himself Jakob Hansen. He claimed the estate as his own.”
Eryn sucked a breath and her widened eyes shifted to Drew.
Her husband gave a small shake of his head.
Eryn let her breath out and looked at Rydar once again.
“What?” Rydar asked bluntly.
Grier sighed. Leave it to Rydar to grab the bone.
She tried to catch her husband’s eye, but he wasn’t looking in her direction; his regard was fixed on Eryn.
Eryn’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. A myriad of expressions flicked across her face.
Rydar reached out and laid his hand over hers. “Is fine. What?”
She looked stricken. “I—I did the same thing.”
“It’s no’ exactly the same thing,” Drew cautioned, his stern regard resting on Rydar’s hand. “Ye did it for young Liam.”
“Liam?” Grier’s gaze moved to everyone at the table. “Who is Liam?”
“Our foster son. He has thirteen years, now.” Drew gave Rydar a tight smile. “When he reaches the age of majority, the Bell estate will be his.”
Rydar withdrew his hand and shook his head. “It doesna sound same.”
“No.” Eryn chewed her lower lip. “I was a maid in the house, and became the housekeeper when she died. After Liam’s mother died, I ran the household by myself. When the Death took Liam’s father, I took control of the whole estate.”
She turned pleading eyes to Rydar. “I never intended to usurp Liam’s ownership.”
“No.” Rydar flashed a rueful smile. “And Jakob did.”
“But you found the papers and are now the rightful owner of Hansen Hall,” Eryn stated, clearly relieved to shift the focus back to him. “And Arne will follow you.”
Rydar nodded. “Aye.”
Grier leaned forward and spoke to Drew. “When Liam inherits the Bell estate, will you return to your own home?”
“No. I signed the Drummond estate over to my sister’s husband.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Marcas took the Drummond name when they married, and they have the six weans, mind.”
Grier leaned back in her seat and pressed against the lower edge of her ribs. “You have no brothers, then?”
Drew’s eyes darkened. “My younger brother died at my father’s hand when he was fourteen.”
Grier’s brow plunged. “I’m sorry. I didna ken.”
“I left the next day. I was but sixteen. I apprenticed with the knights at Sterling.” Drew combed his fingers through his hair. “My home has no’ been a comfort to me since.”
Grier glanced at Eryn. “Where will you go, then?”
Rydar saw the concern in her eyes and wondered if Grier thought the couple might wish to move to Hansen Hall.
That will not happen. Not as long as I live.
“I’m still in service to the king of Scotland, mind,” Drew said slowly. “I’m well paid now, and will have my choice of property when that time comes.”
Rydar bit his tongue to keep from scoffing. “I hope whomever you displace will be mightily pleased,” he muttered in Norse.
Grier shot him a warning look. “He says you are fortunate to have a choice.”
Rydar nodded and flashed the knight a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
***
Eryn had hoped that, even if Drew and Rydar didn’t become close friends, they might at least be amicable. Their moment of shared laughter raised that hope; but she wasn’t so naïve as to believe that Grier translated her husband’s words accurately.
For whatever reason, Rydar clearly held a grudge against Drew.
And judging by Drew’s unusually reticent manner, he was either trying not to provoke the Norseman, or dismissed him as unworthy of his attention. Eryn fervently hoped it was her first thought.
She did like Grier. That was a happy surprise. Her hostess was kind and welcoming. And, in spite of his coolness toward Drew, she liked Rydar as well.
Eryn finished the last remnant of wine in her cup, feeling exhausted of a sudden. The excitement of the day, combined with weeks of travel, weighed her down.
“I do believe it’s time to retire,” she said to Drew. “I’m quite worn out, I’m afraid.”
Grier rose to her feet. “Aye. It has been a long day for the two of you.”
Rydar stood as well, but before he could speak a servant hurried in and tapped him on the shoulder. Rydar leaned down and the man whispered urgently in his ear. Then he nodded and straightened.
“I go. Is problem with horse.” He shook Drew’s hand, and kissed the back of Eryn’s. “Sleep good. See ye in morning.”
He spun on his heel and followed the man from the room.
Grier watched him go, then turned and smiled at Eryn. “If there is aught ye need, please ask.”
“I will.” She hugged the other woman. “You have been so kind already. Thank you.”
“I am sae happy ye have come, Eryn,” Grier murmured in her ear. “And my husband is as well.”
As Eryn and Drew climbed the stairs to the sleeping apartments, one puzzling thought reverberated in her mind. Rydar and Grier were happy to have her, but did not express the same sentiment about Drew’s presence.
She glanced sideways at her husband’s handsome profile.
What have you done?
Chapter Nine
Rydar followed his stable master out the back door of the stone manor. The men didn’t speak until they were alone outside. Rydar glanced around the courtyard. No one else was visible in the dusky summer’s night.
Even so, he kept his voice low. “Tell me everything.”
The man copied his tone. “We went to the pasture to bring in the horses, same as we always do. But Torden wasn’t there.”
Rydar frowned. “Did you search for him?”
“Of course! We fanned out and covered the entire area.” He rubbed his chin nervously. “There was no sign of him.”
“Was he hobbled?”
“Yes. As always.”
“And did you find his straps?”
The man shook his head. “I think he was taken.”
“Stolen?” Shock zinged through Rydar’s chest. “I’ll admit he’s a fine stallion, but who would steal from me?”
The Hansens weren’t the richest family in Arendal, but they were the oldest clan still residing in the coastal village. Their reputation was well-known, and Rydar’s rebuilding of his trade business was putting food on the tables, and roofs over the heads, of several Arendal families.
Hurting the Hansens was akin to hurting themselves.
“It’s not only you, sir. That’s the concern.” The stable master glanced around again. “I was in town today and heard that two other horses have gone missing.”
Rydar narrowed his eyes. “Whose?”
“Sørensen’s best brood mare hasn’t been seen in two days. He thought she was taken by wolves, but never found a trace.”
“And?” Rydar prodded.
“Johansen. He discovered the loss this morning.”
Ryder coughed a grunt of frustration. “Not that pretty little filly he was so proud of?”
The man nodded. “That’s the one.”
Rydar dragged his hands through his hair. “At the least we know whoever is behind all this has excellent taste in horseflesh.”
The stable master snorted. “True.”
“If anyone in Arendal took those animals, what could they do with them?” Rydar asked the obvious question. “They can’t sell them here. They can’t breed them here.”
“No, my lord.”
Rydar hooked his hands on his hips. “Then it must be someone who has come here specifically for that purpose.”
“And they have a hidey-place for the horses?”
Rydar gave a gri
m nod. “Until they can be spirited away.”
The man sighed. “What do you wish me to do, sir?”
“Talk to the harbormaster. Find out what sort of ships have docked here in the last week, and where they are from. Bring me a list.”
“Yes, sir.” The stable master’s brows pulled together. “That man you have inside came on a ship.”
Rydar flashed a wry grin. “He did. But only today. And you said the first horse disappeared two days ago.”
“He might have sent word ahead.”
That was surprising. Apparently Rydar wasn’t the only man who took a quick dislike to Lord Andrew.
He clapped his hand on the shorter man’s shoulder. “Lord Andrew has more money than God. He hasn’t come to thieve our livestock.”
“And you’re certain about that?” the stable master grumbled.
“His wife is my Onkel Rolf’s daughter. She and I are the only surviving Hansens after the Death. The man may be a pompous ass, true, but he isn’t a fool.”
He gave a resigned nod. “I’ll have to trust you, my lord.”
Rydar looked up at the nearly full moon further brightening the summer sky. “Let’s go take another look at the pasture, shall we? There may be a clue that was missed.”
“Shall I call for help?”
“No.” Rydar shook his head. “Let’s see if we might surprise anyone.”
“Let me get my axe, in the event we do.” The man turned and headed toward the stone-bottomed stable.
“Bring two,” Rydar called after him.
June 13, 1359
Grier stretched and sat up in bed as the morning sun pushed around the curtains and striped the wooden floor of their bedchamber. Her husband slumbered beside her, snoring softly.
Rydar came to bed late yester eve. Or more accurately, early this morning. He apologized for waking her, but in truth ‘twas the babe’s pressure on her bladder which did the deed.
By the time she climbed back into the bed he was either asleep, or doing an excellent job of feigning the condition. Whichever was true, he clearly wasn’t going to reveal to her what had pulled him away from their meal.
While waiting for Rydar to return to the manor and come to bed, their supper conversation kept replaying through Grier’s mind. She thought about what had been revealed as she tried to find a comfortable position for her belly on their recently re-stuffed mattress.
