“You, me, Torstein, we’ll always be Norsemen, sons of a beautiful but cold and sometimes brutal land,” Alfred replied without turning to look at Bryk. “Now the Franks call us Normans, and we’ve molded a strong, prosperous country in a new land. But we couldn’t have done it without the strengths our homeland bred into us.”
“Nor without Rollo’s leadership, though I am still reluctant to admit it after all these years,” Bryk added.
Alfred finally turned to Bryk. “Look around you, brother. As Cathryn says, be grateful to God and to Odin for what we have, and forget the resentments of the past. Rollo made mistakes, and he knows it. He’s a frail old man, and—”
Inhaling the fragrant smell of apple blossom, Bryk waited in vain for more, but Alfred avoided his gaze and seemed to have forgotten what he was going to say. “You’re right. The years have gone by quickly, but they’ve been good years. Magnus is already fifteen and your eldest boys are in the army.”
Alfred rubbed his knuckles along his chin. “As you may have guessed, Hannelore isn’t happy, but she’s proud just the same.”
Bryk thought back to the day Magnus had been born. His babe had grown into a strong youth, built like his father, talented with a sword, handy with the stridsøkse, and a gifted rider. Cathryn fretted over Bryk’s insistence he be trained in the arts of war, but the boy would one day be the Comte of Montdebryk. “It won’t be long before my son and Torstein’s eldest join them,” he said, though the prospect was strangely disturbing.
Alfred arched his brows, his eyes wide. “Hard to believe Bendik has seen fourteen summers. It bodes well that he and Magnus are good friends.”
Bryk ushered his brother down the steps to the bailey. “Careful, we still need a railing here. You’re right. Since our nephew and his family came to live in the fortress ten years ago, the two have been inseparable.”
“Remember how apprehensive we were when we granted Torstein his freedom?” Alfred said.
Bryk did indeed recall his misgivings. “Yet Montdebryk couldn’t have a better Marshal. I trust him completely.”
“Where is he by the way?” Alfred asked.
“He took Sonja to assist with Kaia’s confinement. They live in the house Torstein built, though they’ve expanded it. It’s only seven miles away, but Javune goes to pieces when she’s with child. No one can blame him. He’s never forgotten the memory of the two babes they lost, and she’s not the strongest of women.”
Alfred shrugged. “What’s this one? Their fourth?”
“Ja,” Bryk replied. “They have three boys, all like their father. Cathryn is hoping for a girl this time. She’d like a niece close by.”
“I was surprised they decided to come to the valley. I didn’t think Kaia would leave Rouen.”
“It was a tumultuous time. The only way they could be together was to elope, and this was the obvious place to run to. Of course, my wife had a lot to do with it, aided by the Archbishop who married them without her parents’ approval.”
Alfred looked wistful. “Family is one of the things my children have missed, though they have their friends in Rouen, and Sven Yngre is a good neighbor.”
“How many children do he and his wife have now?”
“They didn’t wed until five years ago. Dagmar has borne him three sons, two of them twins. Hard to tell them apart.”
Bryk’s next question was a measure of Cathryn’s influence on him. “Is he happy?”
Alfred guffawed. “As a pig in muck. Dagmar is the perfect woman for him. She’s not like his late mama, and, surprisingly, nothing like Sonja.”
Both men laughed heartily as they walked towards the main building. “This is certainly a fine dwelling like no other, brother,” Alfred said.
Bryk was proud of the large square keep with its round towers on each corner, but his brother’s rare praise had him puffing out his chest. “Ja! Stone is more difficult to work with than wood, but worth it. I defy Njord to blow this down.”
Alfred slapped him on the back. “Who would have believed when we left Norway you’d become Rollo’s key man in a new territory! Let’s go in and you can show me what you’ve accomplished since my last visit.”
Cathryn caught sight of the brothers as she and Hannelore were stepping away from the tiny chapel dedicated to Saint Catherine of Alexandria constructed by her husband in a quiet corner of the courtyard within the palisade. It was barely big enough for two people, but she was content the treasured triptych now had a special place.
As if sensing their presence, Bryk turned and the men waited for them to reach the door. She pecked a kiss on his lips. “I was showing Hannelore the chapel,” she said.
Alfred’s wife tucked under her husband’s arm. “It’s wonderful. Cathryn has given me a tour of the courtyard.”
“You’ve seen the kitchens?” he asked.
“And the stores,” Hannelore added.
Bryk opened the heavy oaken door and ushered them out of the gusting wind. “I showed Alfred where we’ll build the barracks next to the forge.”
Hannelore pouted. “I didn’t see the forge.”
Cathryn laughed. “Sorry. It stinks of iron ore. I didn’t think you’d be interested.”
Her sister-by-marriage rolled her eyes. “I’m not. But I do want to see what else you’ve accomplished on this level.”
Smiling, Bryk led the way past the granary to the cellar. Hannelore gasped when she saw the scores of rundlets stacked one on top of the other. “This is all apple wine?”
Pride blossomed in her husband’s eyes. He never turned away a chance to boast about his wine.
“Ja,” he replied. “You market the fruit, Alfred, but I decided to ferment most of my crop.”
Alfred peered closely at one of the rundlets. “But why is it in barrels?”
Bryk’s eyes lit up. “Some of it’s in potels, and some still in the open vats. But I’m trying something new with these oak casks. I want to see what happens after the wine is kept in them for a long while. I’ve heard in the East—”
Hannelore interrupted. “How long has this wine been in the casks? I don’t recall seeing them the last time we were here.”
“Correct,” Bryk said. “We’ve been making the casks for nigh on two years, but the wine in them is eight years old.”
“How long do you intend to let it sit?” Alfred asked. “Seems like a waste of good wine.”
Bryk frowned. “Mayhap we’ll have occasion to break open a barrel while you’re here,” he said.
Alfred looked at him strangely. “Make a cask ready,” he said with unusual authority. “I bring news from Rouen.”
Torstein was relieved to get his wife back to Montdebryk. She’d helped Kaia deliver a tiny baby girl, but it had been a difficult birth, and Sonja was round with their seventh child. He’d spent the long hours repairing tools with Javune who told him what he already knew. Many local women in the throes of labor had confidence in Sonja. She calmed them, kept their fears at bay. Perhaps it was because she seemed to give birth without much effort. Their four boys and two girls had come into the world quickly.
Looking tired but content after each birth, the first words out of her mouth were, “Thanks be to Freyja I’m not like my sister.”
Torstein looked up at the grand edifice he’d helped his uncle build. Alfred and Hannelore had probably already arrived with their younger children. “I’d like to get you straight up to our chamber on the second floor,” Torstein told Sonja as he helped her dismount.
“I doubt it,” she replied, nodding towards Bryk and Alfred who were headed in their direction across the courtyard. She slid off the horse into his embrace, her arms snaked around his neck. Predictably, his body warmed when she touched him. “I’d like to curl up with you on our feather bed, but I want to see the children. I’ve missed them.”
They exchanged greetings as Cathryn and Hannelore came out to the courtyard. Soon noisy children clamored for their attention.
Anxious to get Sonja ins
ide, Torstein picked up his daughters, Tordis in one arm and Karoline in the other, and exchanged a glance with Bryk. His uncle seemed to understand and hoisted his daughter Katarina onto his shoulders, encouraging everyone to enter the main building. “Alfred has important news,” he said.
Sonja was glad to put her feet up on a footstool in the main hall once the children had disappeared with their nannies or gone out to play.
She was surprised to see servants carrying in two rundlets Bryk normally protected as if they were filled with gold. His experiment, he called it.
Her husband was also eyeing the casks curiously. “What news then, onkel?”
Alfred stood near the hearth, looking a lot older than Sonja remembered. “There is talk of a rebellion brewing.”
It was apparent from the puzzled looks on everyone’s faces this didn’t seem a reason to break open Bryk’s precious casks.
“I’ve heard rumblings of this,” Bryk said, again to Sonja’s surprise. “I mentioned it to you, Torstein.”
Her husband averted his gaze. She understood. He hadn’t wanted to cause alarm.
“Ja,” he replied. “Their leader is Riouf of Evreux. He thinks we Normans have become too Frankish, too soft. He has challenged Rollo on many occasions.”
Cathryn gasped. “What is Rollo’s response?”
Bryk frowned. “That’s part of the problem. He’s old and doesn’t seem to realize what’s transpiring at a time when we need strong leadership.”
Alfred cleared his throat. “The news I bring might alleviate your fears. Break open your cask, brother. Let’s see what eight year old apple wine tastes like.”
Bryk furrowed his brow but commanded the servants to open the rundlet and pour the concoction.
Sonja sniffed her tumbler of golden liquid, wrinkling her nose when the pungent aroma assailed her nostrils. “Doesn’t smell like wine,” she whispered to Hannelore.
When each person had been served, Bryk turned to his brother, his tumbler raised.
Alfred touched his tumbler to Bryk’s. “We drink to the good health of the new Duke of the Normans.”
“Rollo is dead?” Torstein asked.
“No,” Alfred replied. “But three days ago he relinquished his title to his son. Vilhelm Longsword is now our Duke.”
Long moments of silence followed this pronouncement. Sonja chuckled inwardly at the image of Poppa’s indignant face behind her eyes. During the interview with the Ragnarsens the woman had insisted on her son marrying a Frank. It was common knowledge Vilhelm lived openly with his concubine, Sprota, a Breton princess he’d captured.
“To our new Duke Vilhelm,” Bryk declared, “who wouldn’t be alive today were it not for Torstein’s defiant bravery.”
Sonja’s heart filled with pride when her husband blushed modestly. He smiled as their eyes met across the chamber. Following the lead of the others who hesitantly lifted the tumblers to their lips, she sipped the golden liquid, squeezing her eyes tight shut as the fiery taste took her breath away and fumes soared up her nose.
Bryk banged his tumbler down on a table. “Ja!” he shouted, licking his lips. “Gut. Alfred will take back to our new Duke a barrel of the first spirits distilled in the land of the Normans.”
The men eagerly held out their tumblers when he signaled for everyone to receive a second serving.
The red-faced women looked at each other in disbelief, rolled their eyes to the rafters and politely declined.
Sonja leaned close to Hannelore’s ear. “It would make a good cure for a blocked nose,” she whispered.
FAMILY TREE
(The Rover Bold is the beginning of Bryk and Cathryn’s story)
ANNA MARKLAND
Thank you for reading The Rover Defiant. If you’d like to leave a review where you purchased the book, and/or on Goodreads, I would appreciate it.
I’d love you to visit my website and my Facebook page, Anna Markland Novels.
Tweet me @annamarkland.
I was born and educated in England, but I’ve lived most of my life in Canada. I was an elementary school teacher for 25 years. It was a rewarding career, financially, spiritually and emotionally.
After that, I worked with my husband in the management of his businesses. He’s a born entrepreneur who likes to boast he’s never had a job! He’s also of Norwegian descent and LOVES this series.
My final “career” was as Director of Administration of a global disaster relief organization.
Not content to fade away into retirement gracefully, I embarked upon writing a romance, essentially for my own satisfaction. I chose the medieval period mainly because that genre of historical romance is one I enjoy reading.
I have a keen interest in genealogy. This hobby has had a tremendous influence on my stories. My medieval romances are about family honor, ancestry, and roots. As an amateur genealogist, I cherished a dream (as do many) of tracing my own English roots back to the Norman Conquest—an impossibility since I am not descended from nobility! I made up a family and my stories follow its members through successive generations.
One of the things I enjoy most about writing historical romance is the in-depth research necessary to provide readers with an authentic medieval experience. I based the plot of my first novel, Conquering Passion, on an incident that actually happened to a Norman noblewoman.
I hope you come to know and love my cast of characters as much as I do.
I would like to acknowledge the invaluable assistance of my critique partners, Sylvie Grayson, Jacquie Biggar and Reggi Allder for their help in polishing this manuscript.
MORE ANNA MARKLAND
If only my heroes and heroines had revealed their stories to me in chronological order, it would have made life much easier for you! If you prefer to read sagas in chronological order, here’s a handy list.
Conquering Passion—Ram and Mabelle, Rhodri and Rhonwen
If Love Dares Enough—Hugh and Devona, Antoine and Sybilla
Defiant Passion-Rhodri and Rhonwen
A Man of Value—Caedmon and Agneta
Dark Irish Knight—Ronan and Rhoni
Haunted Knights—Adam and Rosamunda, Denis and Paulina
Passion in the Blood—Robert and Dorianne, Baudoin and Carys
Dark and Bright—Rhys and Annalise
The Winds of the Heavens—Rhun and Glain, Rhydderch and Isolda
Dance of Love—Izzy and Farah
Carried Away—Blythe and Dieter
Sweet Taste of Love—Aidan and Nolana
Wild Viking Princess—Ragna and Reider
Hearts and Crowns—Gallien and Peridotte
Fatal Truths—Alex and Elayne
Sinful Passions—Bronson and Grace; Rodrick and Swan
New series featuring the stories of the Viking ancestors of my Norman families
The Rover Bold—Bryk and Cathryn
The Rover Defiant—Torstein and Sonja
If you like stories with medieval breeds of dogs, you’ll enjoy If Love Dares Enough, Carried Away, Fatal Truths, and Wild Viking Princess. If you have a soft spot for cats, read Passion in the Blood and Haunted Knights.
Looking for historical fiction centered on a certain region?
English History—all books
Norman French History—all books
Crusades—A Man of Value
Welsh History—Conquering Passion, Defiant Passion, Dark and Bright, The Winds of the Heavens
Scottish History—Conquering Passion, A Man of Value, Sweet Taste of Love
European History (Holy Roman Empire)—Carried Away
Danish History—Wild Viking Princess
Spanish History—Dance of Love
Ireland—Dark Irish Knight
If you like to read about historical characters:
William the Conqueror—Conquering Passion, If Love Dares Enough, Defiant Passion
William Rufus—A Man of Value
Robert Curthose, Duke of Normandy—Passion in the Blood
Henry I of E
ngland—Passion in the Blood, Sweet Taste of Love, Haunted Knights, Hearts and Crowns
Heinrich V, Holy Roman Emperor—Carried Away
Vikings—Wild Viking Princess, The Rover Bold, The Rover Defiant
Kings of Aragon (Spain)—Dance of Love
The Anarchy (England) (Stephen vs. Maud)—Hearts and Crowns, Fatal Truths, Sinful Passions
Link to Amazon page
Anna Markland - Viking Roots Medieval Romance Saga 02 Page 15
