“Strian returns with his thrall. He’s captured her once again,” a woman’s voice rose from the buzzing of the crowd.
It was obvious that Strian was not returning with a captive as they walked with their arms wrapped around each other. Strian pulled her so close to his side, it felt as though he would meld them into one.
“Don’t listen to them. Ivar knows you’re not a traitor, and so do those who matter. They won’t allow these accusations to continue.”
“If you believe that, then you did not see or hear Ivar when he accused me of being friends with those men.”
“He won’t turn his back on you. You were like a second daughter to him. He and Lena raised you. He knows you wouldn’t betray us.”
“If you say so.”
Gressa was far from convinced, and Strian’s optimism and naivety only made her more wary. They walked until they reached Ivar and their friends. While Leif and the others bore looks of sympathy and worry, Ivar’s was a storm cloud.
“Why did you run if you aren’t guilty?”
“Why would I stay when I am being accused?”
“To assert your innocence,” Ivar growled.
“Innocence everyone has already decided doesn’t exist. Besides, I didn’t run. I walked.”
“Gressa,” Strian hissed. Everyone knew of Ivar’s temper. The last thing Strian wanted was for Ivar to release it upon Gressa. Then he could not protect her.
“You better confess all that you know,” Ivar threatened.
“I already did. I told you who those men are. I suggested you ransom them or kill them at your choice. I told you I choose Strian over those men.”
“Perhaps you choose Strian so you can continue to spy,” Rangvald offered. The other clan leader had stood observing the scene before and after Gressa and Strian disappeared into the woods.
“Father,” Erik challenged.
Rangvald shrugged but did not retract his words.
“And who was I supposed to report to? Do you think I could slip off to meet with Grímr’s men when they were so easily captured? Do you think I would guarantee my own death? Or do you think I would steal a longboat to sail on my own?”
“You lived among their people for nearly as long as you lived among us.” Ivar asserted.
“And they gave me as much choice to leave as they gave me to move there.”
“From what I saw, you were anything but relieved to reunite with your husband,” Rangvald stated.
“I had my reasons.”
“Yes. You’re a traitor!” A faceless voice bellowed.
“She is not.” Strian’s tone was as smooth and strong as a slab of marble. “She is my wife. I’m aware of her intentions, and I understand why she did not return. She had her reasons, and these accusations are reason enough on their own for her not to want to return.”
Strian’s gaze swept across the gathering. Taller than most, he looked around him at people he had known his entire life.
“When we discovered my uncle Eirnar’s perfidy, how he coveted Lena, how he sired Rangvald’s sister’s children and that Inga plotted against her own tribe with him, how he sold our secrets to Hakin and Grímr, and how he killed his own brother, none of you accused me of being a traitor. You did not question my loyalty because of my relation to Einar. But now you stand before me and accuse my wife. No one gave her a choice about where she goes or who she answers to. Our enemy sold her as a thrall in Wales but released as a free woman. She was ordered to serve our enemy but did not try to escape me. She had reason to fear returning here, and you clearly justified those worries. But I still claim her as my wife, and we live as a married couple would. We have proven that in the three days we spent in the privacy of our home. You have no reason and no right to accuse her. She did not lie or refuse to tell us who those men are. She even accepted their death rather than turn against this tribe. What more do you want?”
Strian’s voice carried, the resolve and anger evident to everyone. He turned his gaze to Ivar, disregarding Ivar’s position as jarl and his vow of fealty.
“You can stand here accusing a woman you raised. A woman you trained to fight and taught loyalty. Yet you think she would turn against us. That makes me wonder how well you did as a father to her if you’re convinced she is honorless.”
“Strian,” Gressa tugged on his arm as her eyes widened to saucers. Questioning their jarl and posing his own accusations could see Strian dead.
“You overstep, Strian. You will keep your head only because I have known you since you were born, and I raised Gressa as though she were my own. But time changes people just as it can change their alliances. She is your responsibility now. If I’m wrong to trust you, and you’re wrong to trust her, it’s not just her life that will be forfeit.”
