Sigurd jerked his head towards where Thorbin stood. A cacophony of voices rose as everyone vied to put their petition before the jaarl first.
‘There are too many in front of us,’ Liddy whispered with a sinking heart. ‘We won’t be heard. All this for nothing.’
‘Leave this to me.’
Using his staff, Sigurd shoved his way forward and Liddy followed in his wake until they were standing under Thorbin’s long nose. ‘Go, as loud as you can,’ he whispered and stepped behind her.
‘I will have order,’ Thorbin thundered.
‘I have business here,’ Liddy proclaimed loudly into the sudden stillness. ‘Ketil Flatnose promised my father protection from the slavers, but your men have taken him and my brother into captivity and they are to be sold in the North lands. I ask you to honour the promise Ketil Flatnose made to my father. I ask you to free them.’
Lord Thorbin regarded her as if she was an interesting insect that he wished to examine before squashing.
Fighting against the growing urge to hide her face, Liddy squared her shoulders and glared back at the tyrant.
‘Is this true? Who told you this story?’ Thorbin barked out. ‘There are many who claim Ketil Flatnose gave them this or that right, but have little to show for it.’
‘My father’s servant returned to our hall with his bloodied cloak and the message. My mother has taken to her bed.’ She dug into her pouch and brought out the gold ring. ‘I bring the token Ketil gave my father when they swore eternal friendship and peace.’
Thorbin had leant forward and peered at the ring. He gave a non-committal grunt. ‘Who is your father? You appear from this isle rather than from the North lands.’
Liddy wanted to wipe the bored smirk from his lips. ‘My father is Gilbreath mac Fergusa, a man who freely gave his allegiance to Ketil Flatnose after his lands had been ravaged by Irish pirates. A man who convinced others to do the same. A man deserving of your continued protection.’
The North lord stroked his chin and his eyes narrowed. ‘Gilbreath mac Fergusa is a traitor with a traitor for a son. The son would have killed me if he had had the chance. He broke friendship, not I.’ He waved his hand. ‘Application dismissed.’
Liddy put her hands on her hips. ‘You lie! My father is an honest man! All he wants is peace and justice for his family.’
Thorbin leant forward. ‘Hmm, are you challenging my word? A woman like you? A Gael? Mayhap you are a warrior who wishes to fight me and let the gods decide who is in the right.’
The room broke out into nervous laughter.
‘A misunderstanding,’ she whispered between her parched lips. ‘I am certain it can be solved, but my father must be released. He took no part in whatever happened when my brother came here.’ Sweat poured down her back. What had her brother done? Malcolm could never hurt another human being in cold blood. He would have been a priest had he not been the only son. Had her mother known? Was that why she counselled Liddy against making the journey?
‘There is nothing to be done about it. Give me the ring now! It is forfeit. Be grateful I don’t make you fight.’ Thorbin waved his hand and the North warrior who had opened the ceremony snatched it from her palm. ‘Next.’
‘But it is wrong!’ The words emerged from her throat before she had a chance to check them. ‘You have no right to take that ring! You have stolen it. That is against the North laws! I demand justice!’
Thorbin checked his movement.
‘Are you calling me a liar? Both your brother and father are traitors. They broke the truce, not me. At the end of this assembly, they will be declared outlaws and all their lands forfeit.’
Liddy balled her fists. She wished that she was a warrior and could take on Thorbin. Sigurd had been right—there could be no justice in Islay while this man ruled the land. ‘It is up to you to decide what you are. I merely state the facts. My father never knowingly broke a promise in his entire life up to now. Why should he start? He was one of the first to accept the Northman overlordship. He has never failed with the correct amount of tribute. Ever.’
Thorbin gave a pitying smile. ‘The facts are that I am in charge, my dear. And it is I and I alone who judge if a man is a traitor. However, I am in a generous mood and can see you have no champion to fight in your stead. You may live. Quit this hall and never return. Be glad you have your life. I, Thorbin Sigmundson, am the ruler of this island and I decree this!’
‘This lady has a champion!’ a loud voice thundered out.
Thorbin started and seemed to pale, but then he recovered himself. ‘There is none who cares to challenge. This has been settled. Be glad I am in a good mood, my dear. You may go, but your family’s tribute has been doubled. I will expect it at harvest time. Then we can discuss your father’s release.’
He tossed the ring and it landed with a clunk at her feet.
Sigurd stepped in front of Liddy and put his boot on the ring. ‘I challenge you, Thorbin the Two-Faced! You failed to act on a solemn promise given by your jaarl. You broke the fellowship. You have forfeited your right to lead and I claim the right to challenge.’
‘How dare you come before me with your face cloaked? How dare you call me that name? Who are you?’
Sigurd lowered his hood and threw back his cloak so that his sword was revealed. ‘Sigurd Sigmundson. Deputy of Ketil Flatnose. I challenge you on behalf of this woman and her family. I challenge you for the leadership to settle the question once and for all.’
A collective intake of breath echoed about the hall, swiftly followed by an all-pervasive silence. Sigurd waited, knowing that this was the crucial time. Either Thorbin’s men were up for a fight or they would force Thorbin to accept the challenge.
The colour drained from Thorbin’s misbegotten face, making the white scar which ran from his temple to his chin stand out clearly. ‘It is not possible. You are dead. Long ago. I saw you fall from that cliff in Ireland near the Black Pool.’
Sigurd bowed, enjoying his half-brother’s discomfort. He had waited a long time for this day. It was gratifying to know that Thorbin had been behind the attempt on his life two years ago. ‘But here I am, standing in front of you. Real and whole.’
‘What connection do you have to this woman?’
‘Will anyone deny me the right to challenge? To fight for the fellowship?’
There was a stamping of the floor and shouts of approval. The muscles in Sigurd’s back eased. If there was anything a Northman loved, it was the opportunity to watch a good fight. None would interfere. From the look of it, Thorbin would be no match for him now. Not like years ago when Thorbin had left him more dead than alive.
Sigurd could see signs of heavy living in Thorbin’s red-rimmed eyes and the way his hand trembled when he picked up the ring. This was his time.
‘You leave me with no choice, Sigurd the Scavenger.’ Thorbin gave a crooked smile. ‘You will have your fight. With swords. I assume you will put the one which hangs from your belt to better use than the one of our father’s which you broke.’
‘That sword has been remade.’
Thorbin nodded. ‘You should have died five years ago when you dared show your face at the funeral.’
Sigurd shrugged. He had gone to the funeral to show that he, too, wanted to honour his father and to rescue his mother. He had been naïve in thinking that it wouldn’t be a trap. Beyla’s timely emergence from the tent showed him his folly and he had to resort to ending his mother’s suffering. ‘You failed to kill me then and you will fail this time.’
‘Shall we fight?’ Thorbin wiped a hand across his face. ‘The winner will take the woman.’
‘That will be for the winner to decide. But no one touches my woman without my permission.’ Sigurd damped down any protective feeling he had towards Liddy. She was a means to destroy Thorbin, nothing more.
Liddy went into the hut where Sigurd sat preparing for the fight, rather than stand outside and be jeered at by any more of Thorbin’s men. She had stood it for as long as possible, but when the jibes became too crude she ducked inside.
She had never considered Sigurd volunteering to be her champion. He made it seem like she was little better than a whore. His woman, indeed.
What was worse, everything that had happened today increased the danger her family was in. If Sigurd lost, then they would all be branded traitors and lose everything. And if he won, could she count on him to keep his promise now that he had heard her brother had rebelled?
Liddy moved her mind away from that possibility. Brandon was right—her curse would destroy her family.
‘I apologise for the men outside,’ Sigurd said before she had a chance to complain. ‘Manners are singularly lacking in this place.’
Liddy forced the impulse to laugh hysterically down her throat. She had come in all set to rant and he apologised as if it were his fault for causing her a minor inconvenience. As if their only trouble was the rudeness of the Northmen.
‘How many times have you fought Thorbin? Was he the one to break your sword? You owe me that at least.’
He raised his head. His features seemed to be carved from stone. ‘We fought many times growing up. We shared a father. While our father breathed his last, my half-brother arranged for my murder. I survived the attempt, but my mother agreed to be sacrificed. She did it to save my life. She thought the woman I professed to love and I deserved to be together. She believed in the power of love conquering all. She never knew how wrong she was.’
‘What happened to the woman?’
‘She chose another.’ He gave a half-smile. ‘Someone with more land and power. Another country. It taught me a valuable lesson—love will get you killed.’
Liddy stared at him in astonishment. This warrior was far more dangerous than she had thought. ‘You wanted this not because of Ketil’s pledge to my family, or any noble reason, but because of something that happened long ago. You wanted another chance.’
‘The odds are in my favour. Trust me.’
She stared at him. ‘You failed to trust me. Why should I trust you now?’
Liddy heard her heart thumping in the silence. He came forward and lifted her chin so that she was forced to look into his piercing gaze. His eyes would be easy to drown in. ‘Leave this hut if you believe I will lose.’
‘I remain here.’ She wrenched her chin away and struggled to breathe normally. ‘His men will kill you if you kill him. They have nothing to lose. They are betting on how short a time it will take to kill you.’
‘Let me worry about such considerations.’ He stepped away from her. ‘You were magnificent back there. Better than I could have hoped for.’
A tiny bubble of happiness filled her breast. He had thought she’d done a good job. She struggled to remember when she had last had a compliment like that. And the part of her that wanted to believe she had been touched by angels at birth grew louder. ‘It didn’t do me much good. I lost my father’s ring.’
‘What do I see here?’ He reached behind her ear and produced the gold ring. ‘Next time, pick it up. I may not be there to retrieve it.’
‘I shall.’ Her hand closed about the ring and she regarded his well-worn boots. ‘It will take more than tricks to defeat Thorbin, but I do believe you can win out there.’
‘It makes all the difference—having one person believe in you.’
‘Do you want me to let your men know? About the fight? Everyone out there, waiting for you to return from your mission.’ She made a little gesture and hoped it hid the sudden flaming of her cheeks. ‘As I said, they are betting against you out there. Every single one of them.’
‘Pity there is no one to place a bet for me. I could make a fortune.’ He put up his hand. ‘Don’t even think about offering. They would not bet with a woman.’
She pleated her gown between her fingers. ‘It is possible that Thorbin plans some sort of treachery.’
He shook his head. ‘Thorbin knows that he will lose his men if he isn’t seen to fight fair at the start. Once the battle begins, anything is possible between us, but no one else may intervene. I’ve learned a trick or two since he broke my sword.’
She pressed her hands together and tried to hang on to her sanity. Sigurd seemed unnaturally calm about it. ‘Have you done this before?’
‘Challenge for leadership of a felag?’ He tilted his head to one side. ‘No, but I have fought many times, since Thorbin left me for dead. The surest way a man like me can rise. And I have risen, Eilidith, from the mud of society.’
‘Call me Liddy,’ she said before she lost the courage. ‘We are friends after a fashion and I loathe Eilidith.’
‘Liddy.’ He made her name sound exotic and mysterious, rather than plain. ‘It suits you better. Why are we friends suddenly?’
She gave an artless wave. ‘Because you need one.’
He tilted his head to one side and she felt the full force of his gaze. She was aware of how small this hut suddenly had become. ‘You may be right. My mother used to say a true friend was a pearl beyond price.’
‘I have heard that saying before.’ She watched her hands, feeling her cheeks go suddenly hot. She was bad at this sort of thing.
He stood up and walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Allow me to do the worrying. You bring me good luck—that is why I need you there.’
She turned her face away, tucking her chin into her shoulder to hide her mark. Now was far from the time or place to begin to explain about her problems, starting with the two tiny graves on the hillside and her part in making that boat capsize. Or her problems with her volatile ex-brother-in-law who blamed her for much that had gone wrong in Brandon’s life—the woman with the cursed face who lied to hide her inadequacies. ‘I am a woman of Cennell Fergusa. Worrying is something we do. What I do know is that my late husband, Brandon, would not have risked his life as you are about to.’
‘Only the fates know when you will die.’ He put his finger under her chin and raised it so her eyes met his piercing blue gaze. They were pools to drown in. Liddy hated that she wanted to believe in him. ‘I am trusting that my life’s thread runs longer than today. The three fates will have spun it longer.’
‘We come from different cultures,’ she whispered, watching his mouth. ‘God, not the fates, decides when we die.’
‘My mother used to say something similar. I can almost hear her voice, echoing down the years. Thank you.’
‘My pleasure.’ She watched his mouth as their breath interlaced. Her heart thumped so loudly she thought he must hear and guess her attraction to him.
He dipped his head and his lips touched hers. This time was not a fleeting butterfly touch, but solid and real. Her mouth parted and she drank from him.
For one wild heartbeat she forgot everything but the taste of him. Her breasts brushed against his hard chest. Then she stepped back, knowing that her face burnt far more than before. She fingered her birthmark, placing her hand to hide the ugliness of it, her badge of shame. He had kissed her voluntarily and she had no idea why.
‘Did you take pity on me?’
‘I have never kissed a woman out of pity yet.’ He watched her with hooded eyes, making no move to recapture her.
‘What was that for?’
‘So that some of your excellent luck will rub off on me,’ he said. ‘You might not believe in such things, but I figure I need all the help I can get.’
‘That is fine, then.’ Her voice came out as a husky rasp. ‘I figure you need as much as possible.’
She turned on her heel and marched out of the hut. Behind her she heard a soft voice saying thank you, so soft that she wondered if she’d ac
tually heard it.
* * *
A good-sized crowd had gathered about a makeshift arena. The atmosphere had altered since she was in the hut. It was now far more restless as if there was change in the air. Liddy hung back, wondering where she should stand.
A cold nose nudged her hand and she saw that Coll had quietly joined her. Next to him stood Hring with a superior expression on his face. Liddy took a deep breath. She might not trust him, but at least he was on Sigurd’s side.
‘How did you get in?’ Liddy gasped out.
‘It is amazing how distracted guards can become when a big fight is about to happen.’ Hring shook his head. ‘The discipline.’
‘You disobeyed his orders,’ she said. ‘You were supposed to stay outside the gates unless I screamed.’
‘Sigurd’s a good fighter.’ He patted his chest. ‘I predict my purse will be heavier tonight.’
‘What will he say when he discovers what you have done?’
Hring bared his pointed teeth. ‘I’ve never been one for following orders precisely. Sigurd knows that. And your dog pined for you. What should I have done—allowed him to take a chunk out of my arm?’
Liddy gave an uncertain laugh. Somehow it was easier to have Coll with her. She curled her fingers around his collar. With Coll there, she had at least one protector. Heaving a great sigh, Coll flopped down at her feet.
‘Sigurd is going to fight, but I worry Thorbin may not fight fair.’
‘Thorbin is arrogant, but he isn’t stupid. The men would turn against him if more joined in. Two men challenge and fight to the death in these situations. It is our law and our heritage. It works well.’
‘Killing your brother cannot be considered a good thing where you come from.’
‘Half-brother, and it has been known to happen, but Sigurd isn’t planning on killing him.’
Liddy blinked in surprise. ‘Why not?’
‘Ketil Flatnose wants that pleasure.’ Hring rubbed his jaw. ‘If it was up to me, I would disobey that order during the fight, but Sigurd is different. He knows when to stop. I’ve seen him fight before. There are reasons why I backed him. But you needn’t worry, my lady, any sign of trouble and I will get you out of here. You’ve held your side of the bargain, I reckon we can hold ours.’
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