Paying the Viking's Price

by Michelle Styles

  There was only one conclusion—Brand had discovered it, but had left her a message so she’d know. Asking him about it would be impossible as then she’d have to explain why she had been in the hiding place. She had to assume that he’d left the cup, in case she wanted to flee.

  She gave a small laugh as she weighed the cup in her hand. ‘I don’t quit, Brand. I never have and I don’t intend to now. This cup will have another use.’

  * * *

  ‘Why did you return, Athelstan?’ Edith asked the man who lay on the rough bed the next morning.

  When first light came she had slipped out of her lonely bed, dressed and made her way to Athelstan’s cottage. Mary had let her in and shown her to the back room where the injured man hid, more of a cow byre than the resting place for a warrior of his repute.

  Each step of the way as the cup hit her hip, her resolve to do right by Athelstan had hardened. The only thing she could do was to see Athelstan and have him leave. Every moment he stayed on these lands put everyone in danger.

  The bearded man hauled himself to standing. He swayed slightly and despite his wife’s entreating look stood stubbornly at attention. ‘My lady, it is an unexpected visit.’

  ‘My cousin implied you would refuse to see me. I wanted to know the truth.’

  ‘Why would Athelstan ever refuse you, my lady, when you come in person?’ Mary said pointedly, giving her husband a stern look. ‘My husband knows the good you have done.

  Edith concentrated on the man who had served her family so well. He shifted from foot to foot and refused to meet her eye.

  ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘I would never refuse to see my Lady Edith when she troubles to call on me in person.’

  ‘Has Mary explained about the danger?’ Edith asked, ignoring the strong undercurrent of disapproval. ‘There is no place for you here, Athelstan. You have a price on your head, but your family can still have a life. Your family has served mine for generations and I’m not about to abandon you.’

  ‘I know the Norsemen are here and you have been dishonoured.’ Athelstan waved an impatient hand. ‘The entire countryside is talking about it. You had no choice. I understand that, my lady, but it was not what your father or mother would have wished for you.’

  ‘I suppose I can thank Father Wilfrid for that piece of gossip-mongering.’ Edith gave a wry smile. She refused to apologise for what she’d done. ‘He seemed to be particularly shocked with the arrangement, but then what is new with him being shocked at my behaviour? You must know that I have the best interests of everyone at heart.’

  ‘I know you did what you had to, my lady. There was no one left to defend this place or you.’ He hung his head. ‘I deeply regret this. I mean to put it right. You will always have a champion in me.’

  Edith clenched her fist. She couldn’t have Athelstan suddenly deciding to put things right. She had to convince him to go. ‘We don’t have time for regrets. The new lord wants to foster Godwin. It is a huge chance for your son. We live in a new world with new masters.’

  Mary gasped behind her. ‘He wants to take an interest in Godwin? That is wonderful!’

  ‘Hush, woman!’ Athelstan frowned. ‘If you had your way, he’d be fostered with the devil himself.’

  ‘Brand Bjornson is hardly the devil, husband.’

  ‘It is a great opportunity, but Brand must not learn Athelstan is here. You will need to go to see him, Mary, rather than waiting for him to arrive here. When Athelstan is well enough, he must go to Wessex. There he can make a new life.’ Edith brought the silver cup out from under her cloak. ‘This should give you the start you need, Athelstan. It belonged to my grandfather. He would...he would want you to have it.’

  Mary gave a slight nod. ‘I understand, my lady, what you are trying to do, but you should keep it in case you need it. It wouldn’t be right.’

  ‘Wife,’ Athelstan rumbled, ‘I remain the head of this house. I should have a say. And I say no. It is not going to happen. You must keep that cup, Lady Edith, and use it when you need it. Some day, you may have the greater need.’

  ‘It is a good opportunity, Athelstan.’ Edith held out the cup and willed Athelstan to understand what was being offered. He might not have a future here, but his family would be looked after always. And she could look after herself, whatever came. She refused to think about a time when she might need silver. ‘Why do you want to throw it away? It is a chance to rebuild your life. You know there is a price on your head.’

  He took the cup and placed it down on the bed. Edith heaved a little sigh of relief. All would be well. She, with Mary’s help, would get him to start a new life elsewhere.

  ‘Do you believe this Brand Bjornson an honourable man?’ he asked, turning towards her with a fierce expression.

  Edith started. She had not really considered it before, but she thought about all the small incidents of kindnesses as well as how he’d behaved over the straw man. A lesser man would have found a reason to protect his friend. ‘He is true to his code.’

  ‘Can’t you see, husband? Her ladyship blooms. Brand Bjornson brought roses to her cheeks. If her ladyship is happy, that is enough for me. He is repairing various buildings and has provided corn planting. He is a better lord than the last one.’

  ‘That is because you are a woman and know naught.’

  Edith crossed her arms, counted to ten and tried to keep her temper. Athelstan had no right to speak to his wife that way. Neither did he have a right to pass judgement on her, but losing her temper and storming out would hardly solve her immediate problem of how to get rid of him without endangering everyone else.

  ‘Athelstan,’ she began, making a supreme effort to keep her voice even and steady. She made sure it contained her most commanding tone. ‘I have very little time. What is between Brand and me is private, but it benefits everyone on these lands. You must trust my judgement on this. You have not been here. You have not seen the improvements he has made. This estate must have an overlord and he should do right by it.’

  ‘Any man can repair a building or plant corn.’ Athelstan scowled. ‘I want to know the measure of him. He must prove himself worthy. Nothing I have seen or heard of him makes me think he has one ounce of honour in his body.’

  ‘In what manner should he prove himself?’ Edith asked. ‘What do you want him to do?’

  ‘He should do the decent thing and marry you,’ Mary burst out. ‘Then I will say to everyone what an honourable man he is! And my husband will as well.’

  ‘How many times do I have to tell you to be silent, wife?’

  ‘Mary is entitled to her opinion.’ Edith shook her head and started for the door. ‘Brand Bjornson’s decision to marry will be based on his king’s wishes, not his own. I will have no more said.’

  Athelstan raised his hands in supplication. ‘I deserve my say, your ladyship. Simply because you dislike the words is no call for them to remain unsaid.’

  Edith halted. She was behaving worse than Hilda. Unlike Hilda, she didn’t have the luxury of giving in to impulsive behaviour. How often had her parents scolded her for doing that? ‘Very well, speak your piece.’

  ‘Your father was well respected. Unlike the man who now calls himself our jaarl, he never brought dishonour to the name of lord in these parts. Brand Bjornson’s name is used to terrify children. Nurses whisper that he will come to get them. Have you ever asked him why he has that scar? It is a hanging scar.’

  ‘You are overly harsh.’ Edith tapped her fingers together. She’d forgotten that Athelstan considered himself her protector. Neither did it give her the right to break Brand’s confidences. ‘Brand Bjornson has not done anything dishonourable. Give me one example, one thing other than his liaison with me that makes him unworthy in your eyes. Rumours and tales told around a campfire only show that he was a warrior. Warriors have all manner of scars.’<
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  Athelstan raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you know how your husband died? He was foully murdered under a parlay by the man who sits in the hall, stuffing his face on honest food. I know that for a fact. I was there. I saw your husband’s body and the bodies of his guard. Dismembered. Even now they haunt my dreams. I stood there, saying a prayer when I heard voices, Norsemen. I hid myself, waiting for them to go, but I overheard one of them, the largest one, bragging how he’d caused the truce to be broken.’

  ‘And you are sure that this was Brand Bjornson?’

  ‘How could it be any other? He carried a bloody axe.’ He clenched his fist. ‘I’d run him through if I had the chance.’

  Edith put her hand over her mouth. Brand had killed Egbert in cold blood, rather than in battle? It seemed out of character for him to do anything like that.

  Her stomach churned. However, it was not out of character for Egbert to break a truce. She wished Brand had told her the full circumstances of the final battle, but it made sense now why he’d been given this particular earldom.

  ‘Are you sure of your facts?’ she asked when she could control her voice.

  ‘Aye, I’m sure, my lady.’ Athelstan made an ironic bow. ‘I was there or near enough. Six of them went out on a winter’s morning and none of them returned. The Norsemen fell on us like ravenous wolves afterwards. We had been sitting about the fire, eating our porridge, waiting for Lord Egbert to return. We were all unprepared for the attack. I took a blow to my shoulder and then to my head. I thought I was a goner for sure and feigned death. I must have passed out, but came around later. Everyone had departed, save the corpses and the crows.’

  ‘And how do you know how my husband was killed, if you were not with him?’

  ‘I saw the bodies afterwards. Hacked to pieces, they were. I heard it whispered that the great Brand Bjornson was there. Then he gets these lands and I knew I had to come back and do something. Such a man could not be allowed to hold sway of these lands.’

  ‘I had no idea,’ Edith confessed. Of all the important things they had shared, Brand had not bothered to share with her something so vitally important such as the fact that he had personally killed her husband. Or had at least been there when Egbert died.

  ‘I thought you ought to know.’ Athelstan hung his head. ‘It was a terrible business. They had discarded the bodies like worthless criminals. I made sure the bodies were buried.’

  ‘That was good of you.’

  Athelstan reached for the cup and thrust it back into Edith’s hand. ‘You can understand why I can’t take this either. You will need it more than I. I have my sword arm and you—’

  ‘You have a family,’ Edith interrupted.

  ‘They are my concern. Begging your ladyship’s pardon, but what do you have? How well do you know your lover if he didn’t even tell you the manner of your husband’s death?’

  Edith swallowed hard and desperately tried to figure out an answer which would satisfy Athelstan. All the while her brain kept hammering the words—what else hadn’t Brand shared? Could she truly trust him to be the man she hoped he was?

  After they had made love the first time, when he held her after she confessed about losing her baby, she’d felt so connected to him, but now she knew that she had shared things, yet he had shared very little about the battle. He’d kept the manner of her husband’s death from her. He’d even gone so far as to say that he wished he’d killed him. Why say that? Someone was not telling the full truth and she knew she had to trust her instinct. Only lately, it had not kept her safe.

  ‘Thank you for telling me, Athelstan,’ she said quietly, tightening her grip on the cup. ‘I will keep your words on advisement.’

  ‘What are you going to do, my lady?’ Mary said, bringing her back the present. ‘Are you going to go back to him, knowing what he is like?’

  ‘My reasons for becoming his concubine remain the same. I can hardly depart simply because something went wrong with a parlay. Athelstan, for all his talk about being there, wasn’t. He saw the aftermath, not what truly happened. I do know my late husband and what he could be like.’

  ‘You are being a fool.’ Athelstan made a grimace. ‘But then you are a woman. Your grandmother was the same—always wanting to believe the best of the people.’

  Mary wrung her hands. ‘I can’t allow our son to be fostered by a monster, but neither can I refuse my current lord’s request without causing friction. If he is as bad as you say, husband, it would be very wrong to anger him.’

  ‘This changes nothing—the fact remains that Athelstan cannot stay here. The risk is far too great. He puts everyone in danger.’ Edith concentrated on the wall behind Athelstan, rather than meeting Mary’s eyes. Brand was no monster. Egbert had been. It bothered her that Athelstan was so insistent, but she refused to argue with him. Now was the time for solving problems, rather than debating someone’s merits or lack of them. ‘You have said your piece, Athelstan, and I allowed it for the sake of our long friendship. Now, you allow me to protect you and your family. You will take this cup and go from here. You may take all your family with you, if that is what you prefer, but I remain here. I’ve given my word. My word is worth something.’

  Athelstan grunted. ‘Not the cup.’

  ‘And what will become of us? Are we to become beggars?’ Mary persisted.

  ‘You may go with him if you like, but the road will be treacherous. You have a baby daughter. Go slowly and travel at night.’ Edith pointed towards the door. ‘But it is far too dangerous for Athelstan to remain here. I’m sorry, Athelstan. You can’t put everyone at risk to pursue some private vendetta. I refuse to allow that. I have more than just your family to think about.’

  * * *

  Brand’s head ached like Thor personally had taken his hammer and driven it straight into his skull. His mouth tasted of ash and sour ale. A faint groan escaped his throat as he lay face down on the cold stone floor of the stable. He rolled onto his back, willed the world to stop spinning and gazed directly up at Edith’s horse. He could not remember the last time he’d voluntarily done something like this. Possibly in Byzantium when he’d learnt his desire for a woman had nearly cost his emperor his life.

  He had drunk far more than was good for him, but he’d wanted to blot out Edith’s face. She was an incredibly stubborn person. He had no intention of marrying anyone. He could not marry without Halfdan’s leave, but it would have to be someone suitable. The more he thought about it, the worse he felt. He refused to become like his father, marrying for dynastic reasons and betraying the woman he had feelings for.

  Halfdan’s messenger had provided the excuse he needed to drink his disgust away at the way he’d treated Edith. It made it easier somehow that Edith had refused to come down. He had toyed with physically carrying her into the hall, but decided that lacked dignity. He’d ignore her instead. Only now, he had a thick head to deal with.

  His stomach roiled. He’d forgotten the morning after the night before. He shook his head. Over two decades a warrior and still capable of such folly.

  He slowly stood, swayed and focused on the horse’s manger until there was only one. He brushed the straw from his trousers. He needed his bed, preferably with Edith in it, rather than punishing himself on the practice yard.

  He strode across the yard, trying not to blink in the spring sunshine. When he reached his bedchamber, the room was empty and the bed tidily made.

  His eyes immediately flew to the stone wall. The loose stone he’d uncovered on the second night had been slightly moved. The scrap of cloth he’d wedged in lay unnoticed on the floor.

  Cold sweat broke out on his brow.

  Headache forgotten, he crossed the room in three steps and pulled it out. The solitary cup it had contained was gone. He reached back in the cavity. Nothing else.

  He placed his hands on the stone. It made no
sense. She had given her word to stay. It bothered him that he’d have been prepared to stake his life on her keeping her word. He slammed his fists into the stone. ‘You gave your word. Not you as well. I would have protected you!’

  The empty room echoed the words back to him, mocking him. He’d been prepared to forget the hard-learnt lessons about trusting women with her.

  He turned on his heel and went out of the room. Suddenly the entire hall and surrounds seemed empty of its beating heart. Edith wasn’t there. He found himself listening for the slightest sound or movement that might mean his fears were for nothing.

  ‘Edith!’ Silence and stillness except for a grey cat which paused in its pursuit of a mouse to look at him strangely.

  He continued on through the kitchens and the physic garden, but there was no tall black-haired lady.

  ‘Where might I find your cousin?’ he asked Hilda when he spied her sitting half-concealed near the fish pond.

  ‘My cousin has gone out,’ the overly obvious blonde cousin said, instantly jumping to her feet and dropping a curtsy as her cheeks flamed scarlet. ‘I expect she will return soon. Is there anything I can do for you? I hadn’t expected anyone to come to this place. I...I like to think here.’

  She batted her lashes and wet her lips.

  Brand’s breath came easier and relief trickled down the back of his neck. Edith would never abandon her cousin. She had risked everything for this woman when he first arrived. It was simply the panic associated with drinking far too much sour ale. ‘Do you know where she has gone? I’ve been looking for her. There are things I wish to discuss with her.’

  ‘To see Godwin’s mother, I believe.’ The woman fluttered her long lashes, reminding Brand of some large docile cow. He could not see how anyone in his right mind could prefer such a creature to Edith. ‘My cousin wanted to make sure that she was aware of the great honour you wish to bestow on her son. She expected only to be gone a short time. I’m certain she’ll be back directly.’