The Viking Takes a Knight

by Sandra Hill

  “I…I…I…” he stuttered.

  By the malicious gleam in the queen’s eyes, John sensed that she knew she was placing him in an impossible situation. Soon, he and Joanna were being toasted with crisp red wine from the Franklands by the queen, Loncaster, and everyone surrounding them. If he were not careful, Edgar would be stepping down from the dais and joining them.

  So, John made as quick an exit as he could. He and Eirik escorted Joanna to her bedchamber, then made their way toward the room they would share. He had not put Joanna straight on the betrothal business, figuring there was time enough for that after the Witan meeting tomorrow.

  “By the scowl on your face, I take it that congratulations are not really in order,” his stepfather said, humor twitching at his lips.

  “’Tis no occasion for mirth.”

  “But you actually announced a betrothal to Ingrith, King Thorvald’s daughter? A bloody princess?”

  He could feel his face heat. “It seemed the most expedient thing at the time.”

  “Ex-ped-i-ent?” Eirik rolled the word on his tongue as if it were a strange substance.

  “Whether I am betrothed to Ingrith or Joanna or no one at all is not an issue here. It is Henry, the outrages Loncaster has inflicted thus far, and the continuing threats to anyone associated with this case.”

  “Hopefully, it will be resolved tomorrow by the Witan. I must caution…the queen strolling about on the arm of Loncaster bodes ill…if the queen as well as the king is supporting Loncaster…” He shrugged.

  “But I have you at my back.”

  “That you do,” Eirik said, looping an arm over John’s shoulders as they arrived at their designated bedchamber, then moved the bed against the locked door once inside. They were taking no chances of a surprise visit during the night.

  As John fought sleeplessness later that night, he wondered what Ingrith was doing. Was she experimenting with new foods in his kitchen? Was she playing with the children within the keep, as he had ordered? Was she digging up dead rosebushes, against his orders? Was she missing him as he was missing her?

  He would have sent her a letter apprising her of the progress here, except there was no progress of note.

  Once this whole mess was over, John planned to spend a considerable amount of time with Ingrith. God willing, mayhap a lifetime.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Even a thousand years ago, men were clueless…

  “Bloody damn women! Gods spare me! Stupid, bloody scheme! Ought to stay home in the bloody kitchen making bloody lutefisk.”

  “Stop cursing,” Ingrith told Rafn, her brother-by-marriage, as they walked through one of many corridors at the Winchester Palace, heading toward the council room. They were surrounded by four of the king’s housecarls. “I don’t know how Vana puts up with you.”

  “I have talents,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at her.

  Rafn was a very attractive man, Viking to the core. In fact, he was once called Rafn the Ruthless before her sister tamed him…or tamed him as much as any dark Norseman could be tamed.

  “If yer so talented, how come we’re here in the king’s palace without a sword or knife betwixt us?” Ubbi snorted with disgust. “I coulda pretended I needed me lance fer walkin’.”

  Rafn, who was uncommonly tall, even for a Viking man, glowered down at Ubbi, whose head scarce met his chest. “As if anyone would have bought that story!” Rafn scoffed. “You should have planted your little arse back with the troops.”

  “Me little arse has been carin’ fer Lady Ingrith jist fine.”

  “That is why the two of you were strolling around the Jorvik docks, big as you please, looking for any longship headed to the Norselands. Could you have been any more visible?”

  Almost immediately after arriving in Jorvik with Ubbi and Henry, Ingrith had been fortunate to run into Rafn, who was unloading one of her father’s merchant ships. After she explained the dire situation, Rafn put the little boy on his longship. He had wanted Ingrith and Ubbi to get on the same ship forthwith and make haste for her father’s stronghold, but she’d refused. She couldn’t let John or the others continue to suffer because of events she’d set in motion.

  “Your father will have a heart fit when he hears about this,” Rafn had argued.

  “’Tis the honorable thing to do. Me offering myself as hostage in Joanna’s place.”

  “Honor be damned when you’re dead as a squashed bug.”

  “I am going to Winchester,” she’d insisted. “Just get on your damn ship and take Henry to Stoneheim.”

  Rafn had sighed deeply. “Well, then, I’ll have to accompany you.”

  “But Henry…?”

  “Henry will be safe with Bjorn. The oarsman has five children of his own. The boy will be comfortable with him until we return.”

  So it was that Ingrith found herself with a giant and a dwarf for her protectors in Winchester Castle, where they’d been told on arrival that the Witan was about to convene. She realized that while her mind had been drifting, Rafn had been continuing his tirade about her and Ubbi traveling alone from Hawk’s Lair to Jorvik. “Between the two of you, there’s not enough brain to fill a pigeon’s head.”

  “I resent that.”

  “Resent all you want! This plan of yours is insanity, and you know it. Lord Gravely had the right of it, telling you to stay at Hawk’s Lair.”

  “He threatened to tie her to his bed,” Ubbi told Rafn, “but Lady Ingrith said he’d already done that.”

  Rafn stopped, and she and Ubbi did, too, along with their four frowning guards. Rafn turned, very slowly, to stare at her. One of his eyebrows was raised in question. Only one. It was a particular skill of his.

  “Ubbi, you talk too much,” Ingrith said huffily and resumed walking, leaving the two dolts behind with the confused guards, who were not sure whether to stay with them or follow her. “How far is this council room, anyway?”

  A passing maid thought she was talking to her and said, “Just around the next bend, m’lady.”

  Ingrith nodded her thanks.

  Rafn and Ubbi caught up with her.

  “So, have you been sharing the Saxon’s bed furs?” Rafn inquired with the subtlety of a battering ram.

  “That is none of your bus—”

  “Yea, she has,” Ubbi offered.

  She glared at the little man.

  “What? ’Twas no secret, was it?”

  Of course, it was a secret. Does he really think I wanted one and all to know of my wanton ways?

  “Ingrith! For shame!”

  “Oh, do not give me that ‘for shame’ nonsense, Rafn. You and Vana were not celibate afore your wedding, that I know.”

  “Ah, but we were betrothed. There is a difference.”

  “Lady Ingrith is betrothed,” Ubbi said.

  “Could you manage to halt your blathering tongue?” she chided Ubbi.

  “I was only bein’ helpful.” Ubbi’s wrinkled face stiffened with affront.

  “A betrothal? I had no idea, Ingrith. Wait ’til your father hears about this. He has been trying to get rid…I mean, get you married for many a year.”

  “How nice of you to mention my shortcomings!”

  “Truly, he was running out of prospective husbands for you. Last I heard he was sending to the land of the Danes for new blood. In fact—”

  “That will be enough, Rafn,” she said, glancing his way to see a grin twitching at his lips. He had been teasing, of course.

  Finally, they arrived at the council room. After Ingrith and her party identified themselves, one of the two guards in royal livery opened one of the massive double doors to let them enter, leaving the four housecarls behind. There was already a discussion taking place at the front of the room, where twelve men, along with King Edgar and Archbishop Dunstan, sat on chairs on the curved dais. Benches were arranged below the dais, all filled by at least three dozen people, men and women both.

  John’s stepfather, Eirik of Ravenshire, was one of
the Witan members up on the dais. The Witan, or Witenagemot, was the king’s advisory council, a powerful political body that had the power to select new kings. The members were appointed for life; so, the king needed to be diplomatic in how he crossed them.

  In the front row, with their backs to Ingrith, sat John and Joanna. John had an arm wrapped around Joanna’s shoulders, holding her close.

  Joanna wore a lovely lilac-colored gown of samite silk, with inverted pleats of violet lace, matching the lace edging on her sleeves and bodice. Her black hair was piled loosely on her head, held in place by amethyst-studded combs.

  Attired more sumptuously than Ingrith had ever seen him, John wore a fur-lined mantle, attached at his shoulder with an intricate gold circular brooch. It covered a tunic and braies, all of the finest soft wool in a dark blue shade. A gold-linked belt held in the tunic at his waist.

  Ingrith’s heart felt as if it were being squeezed inside her chest. It was probably nothing. Joanna had to be distraught. He was just comforting her.

  A nobly dressed woman was standing next to her, and Ingrith whispered, “What’s happened so far?”

  “Not much. They’re about to listen to Lord Gravely present his case. That’s the handsome man in the front,” she pointed to John. “The one with his arm around his betrothed.”

  “His betrothed?” Ingrith choked out.

  “Yea. Their betrothal was announced yestereve. Queen Elfrida led the wine toasts.”

  “Are you sure it was John…I mean Lord Gravely?”

  “Yea. Do you know him?”

  “I thought I did.” Heartsick, she studied the pair. “I heard that the lady, Joanna, had been taken into custody by the king’s commander.”

  “Loncaster?” Ingrith’s newfound friend curled her upper lip with disgust. “Yea, he had the woman, but he was ordered to release her into her betrothed’s protection…until the Witan rules, that is.” Ingrith’s expression must have belied her wonder that the woman knew so much, because she added, “My husband, Ealdorman Ormley, is the Witan member from Sussex.” She pointed to a portly gentleman in the middle, who was apparently heading this particular meeting.

  “Is she talking about the man who ruined you?” Rafn asked from her other side. His voice was rife with fury.

  “I am not ruined, but, yea, it appears John belongs to someone else now. Mayhap he always did.” She had heard that smitten women could not see the true nature of their men. How could she have thought she was the exception?

  “Well, at least you will not have to offer yourself in exchange for the fair Joanna’s freedom.”

  It would appear that even Rafn, who was madly in love with her sister, was impressed with Joanna’s fair beauty.

  “But as for the lord of Hawk’s Lair, I will kill him for you.”

  “Nay, you will not. You must promise me, Rafn. You will do nothing to John.”

  Reluctantly, Rafn promised, though she was not sure she could trust that promise. Vikings took offense when their women were compromised, and to Rafn’s mind, Ingrith had been more than compromised.

  In John’s defense, he had told her over and over that he would never marry her. He’d made her no promises. It was just that she’d sensed he felt as strongly toward her as she did toward him.

  Ingrith had no opportunity to dwell on her heart pain anymore. There would be time later…a lifetime…to lick her wounds. Just then, Archbishop Dunstan began the meeting with a benediction. “We gather here to decide important issues of state. May God grant us the wisdom to act fairly, according to the Church’s dictates and those of the law of man. So it was in the time before Adam, so it is today. Amen.”

  John and Loncaster, who had one arm in a sling, were both called forward to stand before the Witan.

  Loncaster spoke first. “King Edgar commissioned me to seek out the boy named Henry who is conceivably his child by the woman Evelyn of Jorvik, a weaver by trade, who died recently.”

  King Edgar nodded to the Witan members that Loncaster spoke the truth. Thus far, anyway.

  “It is my belief that the boy was taken to Rainstead, an orphanage in Jorvik. I directed Lady Ingrith of Stoneheim, who is affiliated with the orphanage, that I would be coming for the boy. But, when I arrived, I found that the orphanage had been abandoned, and its inhabitants scattered throughout the kingdom. After much searching, I located Lady Ingrith at Hawk’s Lair, where I believe that she and the boy were being harbored, contrary to my king’s wishes.”

  “Do you take exception to Commander Loncaster’s statement of the facts?” Lord Ravenshire asked his stepson.

  “’Tis true, except there are many pertinent facts missing. When Commander Loncaster told Lady Ingrith that he would be coming for the boy, he implied that the boy’s life was in danger, possibly at his hands. Lady Ingrith and those running the orphanage at Rainstead had reason to flee. If there were any doubt about that fact, consider the things that Loncaster did subsequently. He burned the orphanage to the ground. He set fire to the flower fields and beehives at Hawk’s Lair. He made threats to Lady Ingrith. He raped and held hostage Joanna of Jorvik whose only crime was a former relationship with me. Her home was nigh razed and the kiln she needs for her pottery business was destroyed.”

  “You have no proof that I was responsible for any of those things,” Loncaster contended.

  John indicated with a motion of his head that Joanna was proof enough.

  “I say that the whore came to me willingly. Her word means naught.” Loncaster smirked at Joanna.

  Two guards held John back from attacking Loncaster bodily.

  “He insults an innocent woman.”

  Not to mention his betrothed, Ingrith thought.

  “What is the woman’s relationship to you?” Archbishop Dunstan asked.

  “Which woman?” a red-faced John replied.

  “Have a caution, Lord Gravely,” Dunstan said. “You are in bad odor with this council. You would do well to be cooperative.”

  “He told me that he was betrothed to Lady Ingrith, a Norse princess,” Loncaster inserted.

  “And he told me that he was betrothed to that lady,” Queen Elfrida said from her seat in a side chair, just off the dais. She was pointing to Joanna.

  “My relationship to either of those women is no one’s business except mine,” John contended.

  “I beg to differ,” Dunstan said icily. “Bigamy is a church offense.”

  Lord Ravenshire put his face in his hands, then addressed the other council members, “My stepson, John of Hawk’s Lair, is not a bigamist and has no intention of becoming one. The issue here is the king’s son, if that is what he is. I have a proposal. Give me guardianship of the boy. I will introduce him to the king, and I will protect him from all other outside dangers.”

  Ingrith had to admire Lord Ravenshire’s diplomatic skill. He had not exactly said that the boy would be in danger from the king himself.

  The king, Queen Elfrida, Loncaster, and various others began speaking at once.

  “Silence!” shouted Ealdorman Ormley, standing with hands upraised. “We will conduct this meeting with decorum. Now, Lord Gravely, let me ask you this: Where is the woman who started all this? Lady Ingrith? Why is she not here to speak on her own behalf?”

  Chills ran up Ingrith’s spine.

  Rafn squeezed her arm in caution.

  “Lady Ingrith is—” John started to say.

  “Here,” she finished for him. She stepped forward, and Rafn and Ubbi came with her, refusing to leave her side. Bless them!

  One emotion after another rippled across John’s face. First, shock. Then, anger. Then, hurt, as his eyes fixed on the arm Rafn had placed protectively over her shoulders. To her knowledge, John had never met Rafn. He must think Rafn was her lover. Good, she thought. Mayhap I can retain a smidgeon of pride.

  “I would like to speak to Lady Ingrith in private before she is questioned by the council,” John said.

  “Request denied,” Dunstan declared, althou
gh he should not speak for the entire Witan. “Who are they?” he asked then, waving a hand to indicate Ubbi and Rafn.

  “My name is Rafn…Rafn the Ruthless,” Rafn said before she could answer. “I represent King Thorvald of Stoneheim, Princess Ingrith’s father.”

  His credentials seemed to impress the council, and his looks impressed some of the women in the room—including Queen Elfrida—who sighed their appreciation. To Ingrith’s prideful relief, Rafn did not mention that he was married to her sister Vana, widow of the Earl of Havenshire.

  John’s face was red now, with fury or embarrassment, she wasn’t sure. But he was staring at the arm that still rested familiarly on her shoulder.

  “And I am Ubbi, Princess Ingrith’s guard.”

  A snicker passed through the chamber.

  “It was never my intention to keep the boy from his rightful sire,” she began, “but to protect him from those who would want to harm him.”

  “And who would that be?” King Edgar inquired icily.

  “No one in particular, although Commander Loncaster did tell me that he would kill the boy himself if ordered to do so.”

  “Liar!” Loncaster shouted and would have grabbed for her if Rafn hadn’t stepped in front of her. John had also been coming to her aid. Their eyes connected for a moment, hers no doubt with yearning, his with question, as if asking, “How could you?”

  “Since Loncaster is head of my Jorvik garrison, are you implying that I would want the child dead?” King Edgar was not happy with her, that was clear.

  “I have no idea to whom Loncaster pledges liege, or if it changes with circumstances.”

  “You bitch!” Loncaster yelled. “I never said or did anything that would indicate that I am other than the king’s man.”

  “Are you saying that the king condoned the burning of an orphanage and a nobleman’s fields, or the rape of an innocent woman?” Ingrith asked Loncaster.

  “I…I…” Loncaster sputtered.

  “Where is the boy?” Ealdorman Ormley asked.

  “Hawk’s Lair,” John answered.