Her sisters deserved to be happy with men who loved them. They could do much worse than these two. Portia herself might do worse, what with war coming and all. She would not let her choice place Isla in danger.
"I wish you good fortune," Portia said finally, "but not fertility. Not yet." With a sharp look at them, she marched off.
But in the back of her mind, a tiny seed of doubt took root: for the first time, she dreaded her father's return.
SEVEN
Lord Lewis was the first guest to arrive at Loch Findlugan. His companion was a messenger from King Harald who had much to say to the council. Lord Angus glanced at Rudolf, then took the messenger for a walk around the lakeshore, so that they might discuss weighty matters in private.
Rudolf burned with curiosity as he watched them go, so he jumped when Lord Lewis's arm landed heavily on his shoulder.
"Let them go, boy. We'll find out what they have to say in council, soon enough. Who are you? I don't remember Angus having a son. You look older than those girls of his."
Rudolf gave Lord Lewis his full attention. "I'm Rudolf, Lord Angus's foster son. From Viken."
Lord Lewis clapped him on the back so hard it would have tipped a lesser man over. "Thought so! My mother came from Viken, and insisted on marrying an Islander, for she declared she wanted a man who wasn't a blonde behemoth. She was a shieldmaiden on one of your dragon ships, but she was fonder of the shield than the ship, and she liked my father more than fighting, so when her brothers departed, she stayed."
"Viken women are as fierce as the women here on the islands," Rudolf agreed. "They have the same strong spirit. I'm sure that's why she stayed."
Lord Lewis winked. "Spirited island girls, hmm? Methinks you have one in particular in mind."
For a moment, Rudolf thought he might blush as brightly as Portia. Except no one could outdo Portia at that. He fought to keep his voice light as he said, "I have no bride yet, Lord Lewis. While I am dependent on the kindness of Lord Angus, so far from my family, I have little to offer a lady."
"Hmm." Lord Lewis made a great show of clearing his throat. It was clear he didn't believe Rudolf.
Best to change the topic. "Did your mother ever teach you Viken war games?" Rudolf asked. "I have a chess set I brought from home. Lord Angus and I sometimes play in the evenings. I'd be happy to give you a lesson in how to play, if you like."
Lord Lewis laughed. "I haven't played that in years! Fetch your set, and we'll see who teaches a lesson to who."
Despite his claim of not having played in a long time, Lord Lewis proved a formidable opponent, and Rudolf lost more games than he won. By the time the other lords arrived to occupy Lord Lewis's attention, Rudolf was more than happy to beat a strategic retreat.
Lord Angus caught him packing his chess set deep in the bottom of his saddle bag. "Don't feel too bad. Lord Lewis has such a passion for the game, I have yet to see him lose. If you wish for a fairer match, where you have a chance to win, perhaps you and I can play after the council meets."
Lord Angus was rarely wrong, but this was one occasion Rudolf was happy to tell him so. "Actually, I won several games. Almost half." Rudolf couldn't keep the smugness out of his tone.
Lord Angus laughed. "Then I had best watch out, lest Lewis try to steal you from my household."
"Nothing he has to offer could entice me to agree to that," Rudolf replied. There was no place for him in any household that didn't hold Portia.
Lord Harris hailed Angus, who clapped Rudolf on the shoulder with a vague, "Good man," before he headed off to join his newly arrived friend.
A fleet of fishing boats ferried the assembled lords across the lake to a tiny, bare island where two men were hastily erecting a sort of canopy to keep the rain off. Most of the lords' men had been left on shore with the servants, who busied themselves preparing food for the assembly. The firepit glowed to life and already a pig was turning on the spit, which would hopefully be ready by the time the council meeting was over.
Rudolf expected to be part of the shore party, but Angus had refused to board a boat until Rudolf was on it, so he sat in the bow, facing the green mound that didn't seem grand enough to be Council Island.
The grass grated under the fishing boat's hull. Automatically, Rudolf leaped out onto the waterlogged turf to help pull the craft further out of the water so that Lord Angus wouldn't get his feet wet. Of course, Angus didn't care, for he squelched down right beside Rudolf. "Good show," Angus whispered as he strode past to the top of the hill.
It took Rudolf a moment to realise what Angus meant. The other boats held off, waiting for Angus before they dared to set foot on the holy isle, which had been the place of council meetings for as long as anyone could remember. It was said that the druids and chieftains of a thousand years ago planned their campaigns against foreign armies on this spot.
And he'd been the first to step onto it, not Angus. Why hadn't Angus warned him? Unless he'd wanted Rudolf to precede him...
His suspicion grew stronger as each of the lords landed on the island and left their boats. Some merely glanced at him, while others openly stared. Lord Lewis grinned as though he was privy to Lord Angus's plans. Rudolf wished he'd thought to ask Angus to share his secret. Of course, he'd have had to know there was a secret...
"My friends, lords of the isles, honoured guest." A nod at Rudolf told him Angus meant him. "Welcome once again to Council Island. By now, you should have all received the message from King Donald of Alba..."
Muttering and grumblings erupted from the circle of men. No one liked King Donald, or his message.
Angus cleared his throat. "I, too, have heard it, and I share your discontent. However, for those who might not remember, he has asked for several things. First, that we recognise his claim to the Southern Isles, and acknowledge him as our king. Second, that we pay tribute to him – not just this year, but for every year of his reign. Third, that we provide him with men to fight the war he faces on his southern border."
The grumblings grew louder.
"In exchange, he offers us the opportunity to help him make Alba great again. He will send men to help us drive out the Viken people who have settled among us, and when they are all gone, the men will help us build walls to keep foreign invaders out." Angus held up his hand for silence. "And, he has offered one of his sons as husband for Lady Portia, who he insists must travel to Alba, where she will stay."
Rudolf jumped to his feet. "Portia will never agree to that!" he shouted.
But Angus never heard. Every lord was just as loud, so the cacophony of sound as the rulers vented their displeasure to the sky with shaken fists and colourful language drowned out individual voices. They were a rumble of thunder, heralding the storm to come.
But Angus was not the Lord of Isla for nothing. He waited patiently, letting the men rage until the volume subsided. Slowly, they sank back onto their benches.
All except for Lord Lewis, whose planted feet turned him into a mighty tree that would not be budged. "If you're going to throw out Vikens, then you may start with me," he roared.
Silence fell.
Most of the men looked shocked. Angus's expression never changed. They'd cooked this plan up between them, Angus and Lewis, Rudolf realised, impressed. This could only be the beginning. He settled down to watch what he knew would prove to be an intriguing show.
"My mother was a Viken."
"Mine, too."
"My grandfather came from Viken."
"My sister married one."
Around and around it went, until every man had declared his relationship to some Viken or other. Vikens had lived among the Southern Islanders for centuries, Rudolf knew, so over the last four hundred years, everyone on the islands had some Viken blood in them. It had been a long time since they'd been foreigners to him.
Angus broke the thoughtful silence. "This council made an agreement with the Viken king, an Erik who has long since gone to his heavenly reward. We would share the islands with his
people, and they would defend us against invaders. We would stand together to defend our home." He stared around the circle, taking care to meet every set of eyes for a moment until he had them all. "King Harald sits on Erik's throne now, and we no longer share this soil with the council members who met on that fateful day. But we do stand with one of his descendants." Angus motioned for Rudolf to stand. "Prince Rudolf Vargssen is Harald's nephew. He came to my household as a boy, but he is now more than man enough to fight beside us as a member of my family, which he has. Often."
His interrogatory stare swept around the lords again. "King Harald is not here, but his nephew is. Prince Rudolf, what do you advise the council to do?"
He'd caught Rudolf unprepared, and Angus knew it. Rudolf wet his lips. "I would advise...the lords assembled here to honour your agreements. Oathbreakers are reviled on Viken as much as they are here. Is my uncle such a poor ruler that your oaths are worthless to you, and you will choose to buy another king of whom you know nothing? And not just with money and goods. You would buy him with the lives of your men, the virtue of your virgin daughters...for if he sets his sights on the Lady Portia, none of your daughters will be safe. What do we care for the greatness of our neighbours, who would drive a wedge between our combined peoples, and build walls for which there is no need? We do not need Donald or anything he has to offer, and I would advise you to tell him so."
Several men roared their agreement, but others remained silent. When the roars had died down, one man clambered to his feet, tugging his beard as though checking it was secured to his chin.
"You have something to say, Lord Calum?" Angus asked.
The bearded man nodded. "I do. It is clear the boy is Harald's man, however long he has lived under your roof, and of course his loyalty is to his king. To his family."
"I consider Lord Angus as much family as those I left behind in Viken," Rudolf said.
Angus waved him into silence. "Please continue, Lord Calum."
Calum nodded, then said, "I have no desire to be an oathbreaker, but I made no such oath to King Erik or Harald or whoever the Vikens have sitting on their throne. The council who made that long ago oath did so to ensure a lasting peace that we have known for generations. If a similar oath to King Donald now would bring a similar peace, while keeping to old agreements can only lead to war, should we not take the olive branch that is offered, and forge a new agreement?"
Another man rose.
"Lord Roe?" Angus prompted.
Lord Roe inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Donald isn't offering an olive branch. He's handing us a poisoned chalice. There's no promise of peace in his offer. He starts by wanting to make war on our own people, for Viken blood runs in all of our veins. Then he finishes with a demand for our men to fight his wars, which do not concern us. Donald is offering us war where we currently have peace. Harald does not ask for our daughters or our sons – he demands no hostages he can hold against us. I am with Lord Angus!" He sat down, smiling, as the other lords clapped.
All but Calum, whose expression had twisted into a sneer. "You're only kissing Angus's arse so he'll let your lackwit son marry his daughter!" He turned and lifted his tunic, baring his own hairy arse to emphasise his point.
It took several cries of, "Put it away!" and one "No one wants to kiss your hairy butt cheeks, you old walrus!" before Calum finally sat down.
Lord Harris, a giant of a man who didn't need to stand to be taller than the rest, cleared his throat. "Whether we choose Harald or Donald or declare some other poor fool king, I want one thing to be certain. Lady Portia must remain protected here on the Southern Isles, for as long as she lives."
Several men shouted their support, and a grateful Angus called for a vote. In the resulting hubbub, Lewis shuffled close enough to Rudolf to allow him to mutter, "Watch this well. Any man with an unmarried son will side with Angus. Those with none or too many daughters they wish to marry well will take Calum's side."
The lords divided and Lewis kept up his commentary: "Spinster daughter, daughters, doesn't like Vikens because his wife ran off with one, and Calum."
The other men argued loudly with one another, trying to persuade the others to cross to their side.
Rudolf lowered his voice. "Why does Calum hate Angus so much?"
Lewis glanced from one to the other. "Calum thinks he should be Lord of Isla, not his younger brother. But Catriona chose Angus, then died early in their marriage after giving birth to three girls, and Calum has never forgiven him. If Angus supports something, Calum will oppose it."
Angus counted the men on each side. "The council votes to support Lord Harris's suggestion. My daughter will be protected here on the isles."
"How do you propose to do that?" Calum drawled. "Everyone knows the story of the Three Little Pigs. Locking that girl up is pointless, for she will only escape as soon as it suits her."
Rudolf had long regretted his flippant comment that had resulted in a nickname Portia and her sisters hated. Especially when the story that went with it was now being used so maliciously against her. By her own flesh and blood.
"Find the girl a husband! Then she'll be his responsibility."
Rudolf couldn't tell who had spoken, but he was soon drowned out by offers of sons, nephews, and, in the case of Lord Dand, the young lord himself. He wanted to shout at them all to be silent. Portia would have screamed it, and then delivered a scathing lecture on where they could stash their manhoods, if in fact they still had them when she was done.
Angus had been wise to leave her at home. Rudolf wished he didn't have to witness this.
Lord Lewis cupped his hands to his mouth. "Why not forge an alliance with Harald's family? The young prince here isn't married, so why not make him truly a member of Lord Angus's family by giving him to the girl?"
Rudolf had a sudden vision of himself wrapped in a giant red ribbon, being presented to Portia. At the very least, it would make her laugh.
Angus hushed them. "You have all offered many eligible bachelors for my daughter to consider. But the council has voted to protect her here in the isles, where a woman may choose her own husband. We should each choose our champion, to form a personal bodyguard for her, until that happens. In protecting Lady Portia, they will each have their chance to woo her, if that is their wish."
Now Rudolf wanted to laugh. Hard. Portia would not take the news well when she discovered she was to always be surrounded by a personal honour guard. He sobered when he realised he would be the one who'd have to tell her.
If there was a fate, she was the one laughing at him right now.
EIGHT
The council meeting dragged on in a series of debates, which ranged from stories the lords had heard about Donald to the difficulties of tithing their own people. This continued until the sun sank low on the horizon, and Rudolf could smell roasting meat from the fire pit on the shore. The fishing boats returned to ferry them across the loch, and Rudolf found himself in the same boat as Lord Ronin, one of the men who had stood beside Calum in the vote about Portia. At first, Rudolf wondered at the man's motive, but Ronin soon enlightened him. Just as Lewis had said, he was a man with many unmarried daughters, and an opportunity to sell them to an eligible bachelor like Rudolf was something Lord Ronin did not intend to miss.
Thankfully the boat trip was short, and Rudolf managed to avoid Ronin for the rest of the evening.
After talking all day, the lords still had plenty to say, though they spoke of more mundane matters. Daughters and wives, sons and servants, sheep and seals, cattle and crops. Rudolf had little to add to any of these subjects, so he simply listened.
Eventually, they all retired early, for they knew it would be another gruelling day on the morrow.
The second day started with less of a show than the first, for Rudolf knew to hang back and let Angus go first. The debate resumed, and Rudolf wished he hadn't come. Day after day, they droned on, seeming to get no closer to a plan of action than they were on the day they began. Yet t
here were useful suggestions amid the filibustering. Slowly but surely, each man realised what Portia had known instantly: that whatever action they took, it would lead to war.
Sometime on the fifth day, Rudolf was roused from his doze by an elbow administered to his ribs. He instantly regretted his late-night chess match with Lewis, whose sharp elbow was probably a dig at revenge for Rudolf's win last night. Feeling the entire council's eyes on him, Rudolf ventured, "Could you repeat that?"
Angus looked amused. "The council would like to know what kind of assistance King Harald will offer us in this matter. Can you tell us what kind of army he has at his disposal?"
Rudolf spread his arms wide and shrugged. "I have no idea. I was a boy when I left Viken, and I know more of your strengths than I do of my uncle's. Men have died in battle, old men who did not have retired. Boys have become men, and taken the places that belong to greybeards. To know my uncle's true strength, you would have to ask him."
Lord Harris said, "Never mind the numbers, then. Do you believe your uncle will offer men to help defend the isles against Donald?"
Angus stared at him hungrily, expectantly. Rudolf wished he knew what the man wanted him to say.
But he did not, so what Rudolf said was, "I would have to ask him."
Angus jumped in before any of the other lords could. "But a request from his nephew, his own blood, for warriors and weapons would be received far more favourably than anything from the rest of us. I propose that Rudolf make contact with his kinsman in order to enlist his support." Angus surveyed the circle. "Any man who doesn't agree, raise a hand."
Only Calum's hand waved like that of a drowning man for a moment before dropping limply into his lap, defeated. Angus produced a scroll and began to read from it. Amid all the waffling, Angus had paid attention to every word of their discussion. And from it, he had distilled a powerful liquor that would become their brave plan for the future.
Defences would be shored up, more weapons would be made, supplies of food and drink would be stored, and they would remain vigilant. There was no mention of Donald or even Harald.
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