A Nordic Knight of the Golden Fleece: Jakob & Avery: Book 2 (The Hansen Series - Jakob & Avery)

by Kris Tualla

  His brother’s eyes narrowed. “Did she ever answer you?”

  Jakob could not look at his mother; his emotions were too fragile to shoulder her regret at that moment. “No.”

  “Never?”

  “No.”

  Johan threw his arm in the direction of the box. “And yet you kept writing? Why?”

  “I hoped…” Jakob’s vision blurred and he quickly swiped the moisture away. “I always hoped that someone kept reading.”

  Bergdis appeared at Johan’s side and rested her hand on his arm. “Jakob was never at fault, Johan, and now the truth can be known. Your father was the one who kept him away from us.”

  A range of confused emotions scuttled over Johan’s face. “Pappa is truly dead now… And though he pretended Jakob was dead, my brother is now resurrected.” He stared at his mother. “Have I got that sorted correctly?”

  Jakob crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, I believe so.”

  Johan turned on his heel, directing his attention toward Avery. She sat primly on her seat, her dark eyes wide and mouth pressed shut. A splotch of red rode high on each of her cheeks.

  “And you have a wife.” Johan shot his attention back to Jakob. “Is this your first one?”

  Jakob coughed his surprise at the question. Of course a man of his age might have been married more than once, what with the fragility of the fairer sex. But even so the question caught him off his guard.

  “Why do you ask that?” Avery jumped up, eyes sparking dangerously. “I am sorry. But I think is rude.”

  “I—uh—well you are of an age,” Johan sputtered. “Perhaps I should have asked how long you have been married.”

  Avery’s deflection gave Jakob a welcomed moment to regain his composure; he resolved to thank her quite vigorously in their bed later.

  “Two months,” he stated. “And no, she is not my first. She is my second, and my last.”

  “My husband has much to tell. You have much to listen.” Avery closed the space between them. Her pointed finger moved from one to the other and back. “I think Jakob and Johan must come together. Be brothers. Now.”

  Jakob chuckled softly. “She does not have much Norsk.”

  Johan’s demeanor eased. “But she has enough.” He held out his hand.

  Jakob grabbed Johan’s arm and pulled him into a back-pounding embrace. “I have missed you, brother.”

  “And I have missed you as well.”

  Avery pulled her wadded linen from her pocket and wiped her eyes once again. This time, however, she was smiling.

  *****

  Bergdis insisted that all other narrations wait until the eventide meal and shuffled Jakob and Avery off to settle into their quarters. The begravelsesbyrå brought the casket, and what remained of Fafnir Hansen was washed, dressed, and laid out inside, before the body was placed in the hall for the next day’s visiting mourners.

  Avery slipped into the room to examine her husband’s father alone. Though wasted by disease—consumption was the accepted diagnosis—he had been a tall man, as proved by the length of the casket. Avery searched his features and found the foundation for both Johan and Jakob’s high cheekbones and broad brows.

  Fafnir’s hair was a faded, pale yellow, almost white. He would have been a blond in his youth. Bergdis had light red hair at one time and the combination created Jakob’s copper-and-brass locks.

  “Johan is blond,” she whispered to herself. “I wonder about Saxby?”

  “He cannot hear you, you realize.” Jakob stepped behind Avery and slid his hands around her waist. His lips descended on her neck, sending a quiver of delight over her shoulders.

  “I was not speaking to him,” Avery countered, tilting her head to make room for Jakob’s pleasant attentions. “I was only wondering aloud what color of hair your younger brother has.”

  “Embarrassingly bright red, I am afraid.” Jakob stopped nuzzling her neck and rested his chin on top of her head. “Yet another reason not to be a soldier. That flaming head is a target.”

  “Will I meet him, do you think?”

  “Perhaps. But I do not yet know where he is.”

  A timid voice floated toward them. “Sir Jakob?”

  Jakob backed away from Avery and they both turned toward the doorway to see a blushing servant girl. “Yes?”

  She dipped a quick curtsy. “I am very sorry to disturb you, Sir, but Lady Bergdis has announced supper.”

  *****

  Jakob sat Avery next to him. “Forgive me if I must translate at times. My wife does understand more than she can speak, but would appreciate clear and slow conversation.”

  “What languages does she speak?” Johan asked, settling himself at the head of the table.

  “I speak English, Spanish, and Latin, of course. Jakob does as well,” Avery answered for herself. “Now I learn Norsk.”

  Johan had the decency to appear contrite. “I apologize, Lady Avery. I did not mean to ignore you.”

  Avery leaned forward. “Please, Johan, call me Avery. We are family.”

  As the food was set before them, Jakob pointed out the pickled herring. “You have herring in England, but ours is made to last longer.”

  “Is harder to fish in ice, yes?” Avery offered. “I understand.”

  Jakob squeezed Avery’s thigh under the table. He was so proud of his wife at that moment.

  Johan considered Jakob with a concerned expression. “Were you limping when you came in just now?”

  Jakob looked at Avery, wondering how much to say.

  “You already told them you were married once before,” she said in English. “There is no reason not to continue with your honesty.”

  Jakob nodded and returned his regard to Johan. “Yes. This is a sad story.”

  Thus resolved, Jakob told his mother and brother about Uma, their secret wedding, and the fire which claimed her life. He did not leave out any details, even including some he had not mentioned to Avery.

  “You lost Uma at about the same time I lost Gunhilda.” Johan heaved a deep sigh. “How odd life is.”

  Bergdis’ motherly expression was sympathetic. “And your leg still pains you?”

  “At times.” Jakob gestured toward the ceiling with his spoon. “I spent that much time kneeling on the floor today, beside Pappa. It was hard on the muscle.”

  “Can I give you something to help the pain?”

  Ever the mother, no matter how old the son. “No, thank you Mamma. Askel is well skilled, as is Avery.”

  Bergdis turned to her daughter-in-law. “Were you married before, as well?” she asked kindly.

  “Yes.” Avery reached for Jakob’s hand. “But he is not good man. I go far away from him for many years.”

  “Oh!” Bergdis looked stricken. “I am so sorry.”

  Johan shifted in his seat and refilled his wineglass. “Where did you go?”

  “Avery grew up with Catherine of Aragon,” Jakob stepped in to ease the telling. “So when Avery’s arranged marriage turned out to be dangerous, she escaped to London.”

  Avery nodded. “I am lady-in-waiting for the Spanish queen of England.”

  “The chief lady-in-waiting for the wife of King Henry the Eighth,” Jakob clarified. “But she hid her true identity from everyone, to keep her husband from finding her.”

  “My name is—was—Señora Averia Galaviz de Mendoza, Vizcondesa de Catalonya.” Avery smiled shyly at Jakob. “Now I am happy to be Lady Avery Galaviz de Hansen.”

  Johan cast an impressed glance in Jakob’s direction. “So how did you meet my brother?”

  Now it was Jakob’s turn to explain the Order of the Golden Fleece, his part in it, and the time he spent in London before going on to Spain.

  Well, not everything about London, of course.

  By the time he finished describing his discovery of Avery in the funeral procession, both his mother and Johan had stopped eating, focusing completely on his and Avery’s shared narrative.

  “Are you a Viscoun
t, now?” Johan asked Jakob.

  He shook his head. “While my wife retains her title, it does not pass to her husband.”

  “I only use in England or Spain.” Avery shrugged. “No other place is important.”

  Jakob gave Avery a conspiratorial grin. “Shall I tell them about the ships?”

  “Ships?” Johan straightened. “What ships?”

  Avery waved her permission for Jakob to explain that whole debacle—along with her unique and brilliant solution.

  For a moment, Johan seemed unable to speak. He inhaled, and his mouth moved, but whatever thoughts battled for domination had not yet declared a winner.

  “Trade with us!” he blurted.

  “What?” Avery looked at Jakob and asked in English, “What products are there to trade here?”

  Jakob translated the question into Norsk and allowed Johan to answer it.

  “Norway has many resources. Arctic salmon—dried or smoked, for one. Cod, herring. Various animal pelts, thick and warm. Wool…” His brother’s mouth twitched. “Even ice. We do have an abundance.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  May 21, 1519

  The stream of visitors started at mid-morning and continued throughout the day. Fafnir might not have always been the wisest business man, and his stubborn pride clearly caused the rift in his family, but he was widely known.

  By the warm way Johan was greeted and conversed with, however, much of the visitation today was based in the respect he had earned since taking over the Hansen estate and businesses from his father. Jakob was very glad to see that the Hansen name was once more highly respected.

  For himself, Jakob decided that he and Avery would put themselves on regal display. “That will be the easiest way to announce to Arendal that, whatever my father may have said about my disappearance, I brought him great honor in my absence.”

  Avery looked a little skeptical. “Will you offend Johan by doing so?”

  “By being who I am?” Jakob shook his head. “If I do less, then I disrespect my father.”

  In the end, she agreed, appearing in the same burgundy gown and pearls in which she married him, much to her maid Emily’s delight.

  For his part, Askel dressed Jakob in full Order regalia, from the satin-lined velvet cape to the heavy gold collar, only forgoing the hat.

  “King Henry himself ordered the Baltic amber,” Jakob explained to anyone who asked about the ornament. “He wished to bring honor to our King Christian, in whose service I acted.”

  Whether provably true or not, the explanation clearly impressed those who heard it.

  As the day drew to an end, Johan sidled up next to Avery. With an impish glint in his eyes, he leaned over and spoke softly in her ear. “This particular gathering has been anticipated for many months, as you know.”

  She nodded.

  “So, when the opportunity arose, I spoke to some gentlemen who are in attendance about trading with Spain and England.”

  Avery pinned her lips between her teeth to keep from smiling. Johan was, indeed, the sort of businessman who would set his father’s accounts to rights. She nodded again.

  “Let us draw up some contracts before you and my brother leave Arendal, shall we?”

  She nodded for a third time and allowed some of the repressed smile to smooth her brow and light up her eyes.

  Johan frowned a little. “Do you know how long you will bide here?”

  Avery glanced toward her tall, handsome, and impressive husband. “No. We have not talked this.”

  “Tomorrow, then.” With a small bow from the waist, Johan returned to the last remaining pair of visitors.

  Jakob crossed to her side. He looked pleased. “I was just told that Saxby is expected to arrive for the burial.”

  “Where is he?”

  “His monastery is in Tønsberg, about seventy miles towards Áslo. But Saxby met Johan in Kragero so that he could accompany Birgit the rest of the way to the nunnery there.” Jakob looked down and straightened the heavy golden collar. “As it turned out, Saxby planned to remain in Kragero for another week, visiting the family of an official.”

  “I still do not understand…”

  “Kragero is only about forty miles distant. The begravelsesbyrå heard of this and took it upon himself to send a swift rider to fetch my brother.” Jakob glanced in that man’s direction. “I must suspect that he hopes for substantial additional compensation as a result.”

  Avery gave him a crooked smile. “Dare I say, if he succeeds, he will deserve it?”

  Jakob chuckled. “I must agree. But as a result, the burial will be postponed a day or two.”

  Avery wrinkled her nose. “How long before it becomes unbearable?”

  Jakob shrugged. “Thankfully my father has scant flesh left. And we will be certain to burn plenty of candles around the casket.”

  Avery turned her attention to Johan. “I suppose Birgit will come with him, since Saxby is her guardian, and the deceased is her grandfather.” She faced Jakob again. “How long will we remain in Arendal?”

  “Are you eager to leave so soon?” Jakob felt a stab of irritation at that thought.

  “No, not at all.” Avery lowered her voice. “Johan has spoken with several men and wishes to draw up contracts for trade, using my ships.”

  Jakob straightened and looked down at his wife. “Is this true?”

  “Unless he is a known liar,” she quipped. “But he does not seem to be.”

  Jakob snorted, incredulous at this news. He never considered Arendal as a port of trade for Avery’s ships, though now it was obvious to him that he should have.

  He lifted Avery’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Clearly, I have married well. Your keen industry will carry me through my dotage.”

  She smiled and winked. “Our dotage. I am older than you, remember?”

  May 23, 1519

  Saxby arrived two days later, with twelve-year-old Birgit at his side. Though Johan explained that it was his daughter’s choice to join the nuns and take the religious vows, the lanky adolescent girl was clearly glad to have the unexpected chance to see her family one last time. And meeting her unknown Uncle Jakob was an additional blessing to arise from Fafnir’s death.

  The burial mass took place the same day Saxby and Birgit arrived. Of course, the Catholic service was in Latin, so Avery understood all that was said.

  Once at the graveside, however, Norsk took over and she struggled to catch as many words as she could. If spoken slowly, she could match some of the unfamiliar words to English, just as Jakob had done when he arrived in England.

  A year ago.

  Avery sat in Hansen Hall afterward, pondering how her life had changed so completely in that short amount of time. Not only was she finally free of her horrid first husband, she had found another much more desirable one. In addition to that, she was now an independent woman of business, with what looked to become a profitable trade industry. With Norway.

  She smiled into her wine glass. Thank you, Father.

  Across the room from her, the Hansen brothers sat in front of the hearth, babbling in Norsk far too rapid—and too broken with tears and laughter—for her to begin to follow.

  Saxby was the youngest brother at thirty years of age. He turned out to be as tall as the other two, and his hair was indeed a ridiculous shade of red. Dressed in his priest’s robes, he was imposing and engaging at the same time. Avery imagined that his flock in Tønsberg adored him.

  Even in the company of the other two, Johan was still reserved, and while she assumed that was simply part of his nature, the stress of the last few days had disappeared from his brow. Even so, he listened more than he spoke, as the brothers reacquainted themselves.

  Jakob was the biggest surprise.

  When Avery first met him in the Tudor court, he was struggling to learn English, acting on a commission which had unclear parameters, and living under a many-years-old guilty burden of his own. Today in this hall the language was his, his role
in the family was restored, and the burdens of the past were lifted.

  If Avery found him attractive before, watching him cry, laugh, and tease so joyfully with his brothers made him positively glorious. Her heart swelled impossibly in her chest. She had never loved anyone so well as she loved her husband at that moment.

  Bergdis approached and Avery slid over to make room for her mother-in-law on the bench.

  “I suspect they will be at it for hours.” Bergdis held up a small crockery pitcher and offered Avery more ale.

  Avery lifted her glass. “Thank you.”

  Bergdis also seemed to have relaxed. Avery understood quite well how the final passing of someone long ill could provide more relief than grief. And, of course, Bergdis now had her lost son back in her home for the first time in sixteen years.

  Bergdis poured the last splash of ale into her own cup. “Supper will be served soon.”

  Avery laid a hand over her mother-in-law’s. “I know you are happy and sad today.”

  Bergdis sighed. “This truly is a day of so many differing emotions. I have buried my husband of thirty seven years and will spend the rest of my life alone. For this I am sad. How could I not be?”

  The older woman’s tearing eyes shifted to the boisterous trio of big men across the room. “But I have all of my sons, together again at last. And I see so clearly what Fafnir would not.”

  “What is that?” Avery asked, though she believed she knew.

  Bergdis returned her gaze to Avery. “That Jakob was correct. He was not suited to be a priest, but was the better choice to go to Denmark.”

  Avery spoke slowly, searching for the Norsk words she knew. “I do not know him long, but I think Saxby is very good priest.”

  Bergdis nodded and dabbed her eyes with a linen square. “He truly is. He loves serving God, and never complains about any of the hardships of serving his congregation as well.”

  Avery squeezed the woman’s hand. “Both sons do what they are made for.”

  “Yes.” Bergdis heaved another sigh. “And I believe Fafnir did come to realize this in the end. When I told him I asked Jakob to come home, I could see that he was relieved. I wish he could have spoken to Jakob, though.”