Rand’s fingers explored the bandage on his face. Thorarinn spoke true—he would carry the mark of that beating until he died. The irony of the Queen’s daughter being in ignorance of his existence caused a bitter laugh to escape his throat. Some part of him could not help wondering what her lips would have tasted like. Would they have been as sweet as the woman’s whose name was lost to the darkness of his mind? He doubted it.
‘The next time something like this happens, I swear it will be for something I’ve done. If the chance arises, and the lady is willing, one day I’ll kiss the golden-haired daughter of the Queen of Agthir.’
‘That’s my cousin.’
‘I owe you, Thorarinn. I will have your back, always. I promise.’
Chapter One
848, nine years later
Sigmundson’s steading, Islay, in the remnants of the Dal Riada Confederacy (modern-day Bunnahabhain, Islay, Scotland)
Svanna Guthardottar regarded the tables in the hall with their brightly polished goblets and trenchers laid in the proper order for the feast of thanksgiving later. This gathering was her final chance to ensure a match between Astrid, the former Queen of Agthir, and the lord of this steading, Sigmund Sigmundson. To ensure the happy event, all the preparation for this feast needed to be complete perfection.
A marriage between the pair would make it easier for her to remain on Islay rather than having to return to Agthir, where she’d spent over a decade impersonating the Queen’s true daughter, Ingebord, to ensure all their lives would be safe. Even after Ingebord—now calling herself Maer—returned and claimed her place through a love-match marriage to the late King’s son and heir, Svanna maintained the façade of being the Queen’s daughter because it protected all concerned. Ingebord had been declared Astrid’s foster-daughter, so Svanna’s deception had protected all involved, particularly Astrid, from the late usurper King’s fury at being deceived in that fashion.
Thus, it was only since she and Astrid had travelled to Islay shortly after the usurper King’s death that Svanna had reclaimed that feeling of being who she was and had started using her birth-name of Svanna again, a name she liked far better than Ingebord.
She knew Sigmund sought a strong alliance with his fellow petty kings in Islay to protect them from the threat of invasion. To her mind, he’d make the perfect protector because Sigmund had once been Halfr the Bold, the legendary warrior who had whisked away Maer to the east when Agthir fell.
‘My lady, the Queen, asks you attend her on the shore,’ one of the servants said, rushing in. ‘The petty kings are arriving, and she wants to ensure the proper hospitality is given before the church service begins.’
Svanna dusted her hands on her apron. The huge stone beside the high table which the Queen had had moved this morning to make the swearing of oaths easier appeared unsteady, but she agreed with Astrid about the move. ‘I hope all the kings are prepared to swear the oath.’
‘Once Lord Sigmund is proclaimed high King of Islay, becoming a king in truth, the entire island will be at peace.’ The servant grinned. ‘Then maybe he will marry Queen Astrid. Your foster-mother is good for him. His mood has improved no end since you both arrived.’
‘An honourable peace works for everyone,’ Svanna said, reciting one of Astrid’s sayings before she left the hall. ‘We must expend all our efforts to achieve it.’
Astrid had taught her all the tricks of ruling and being a peace-weaver, including negotiation, building alliances and the subtle diplomacy which came through hospitality, in preparation for Svanna ruling or marrying, but thankfully Maer had returned in time.
After her return, Maer had urged Svanna to only marry if she truly desired the match rather than for strategic reasons, but Svanna had never met a man she could love in the way Maer loved her husband, and she doubted she ever would. Her mind skittered away from what had happened to her in Astrid’s garden nine years ago, and her narrow escape from the fate Turgeis Drengrson intended.Young warriors must be allowed their fun, her old nurse had claimed, but what he wanted to do to her was not Svanna’s definition of a good time. Her nurse had often excused warriors who overstepped, feeling women should endure and not get themselves into precarious situations in the first place. Svanna had heard her give similar lectures to the serving girls in the hall. Caution and vigilance about potential danger were her watchwords.
Before she reached the harbour, the swineherd stepped in front of her, blocking her way. ‘Lady Svanna, my new assistant has seen many ships, Northern ships, in the next harbour but one. Lord Sigmund says that the lad must be mistaken and as excitable as I was at that age, but he’s wrong. The lad’s as steady as they come. Make them listen, please.’
Svanna forced a smile and refrained from telling the excitable man that Sigmund had laughingly predicted that the swineherd would come up with nonsense about Northern ships, notorious for such predictions apparently. But only a fool would attack such a large gathering of warriors. ‘The possibility of attack is why Lord Sigmund posted guards.’
‘But not on the far harbour.’
‘I’m sure they’re simply merchant vessels who have stopped to take on water. Does your assistant know the difference between a Northern merchant ship and a warship?’
The swineherd rubbed his chin. ‘What you say rings true. I’ll tell my lad.’
‘You do that.’
‘Lady Svanna—’ the priest said, hurrying up to her after she had stopped to chat with a little girl and her mother. Although Svanna had accepted that she was unlikely to have children as she had no plans to marry, she enjoyed spending time with them. Sometimes she wondered what sort of mother she would have been if the fates had twisted her life’s thread differently. ‘If you are going down to the harbour, can you ask Lord Sigmundson to attend the service? He is refusing to speak to me about it.’ He lifted an ornately decorated hand bell. ‘I shall be ringing St Fillan’s bell to call the faithful and it would gladden the other kings’ hearts to see him there. Perhaps your foster-mother as well?’
‘He didn’t want to upset anyone as his beliefs are private,’ Svanna said, giving the excuse Sigmund and Astrid had used several times. ‘But I will mention it.’
‘The additional weapons store for when they are in the service is full of hay, Lady Svanna. That swineherd said his boy would move the hay, but it hasn’t been done.’ The priest drew himself up to his full height, resembling a wet crow. ‘I won’t have weapons of war in my church. Not today. Not ever. Please tell Lord Sigmund that.’
‘I’ll ensure it is done,’ Svanna said, mentally sighing.
By the time she’d finished supervising the servants and sweeping the weapons store clean, the shoreline was littered with coracles. Most of the kings and their entourages had made their way up to the church in preparation for the service of thanksgiving. The stores bulged with arrows, spears, a wide variety of knives and the occasional steel sword. Svanna set a single guard over the store, more as a sop to the swineherd and his assistant.
‘Will we have enough food?’ Astrid murmured as Svanna took her place beside her. ‘The king from Kinsella has brought twice the number of men he said he would.’
‘I took the precaution of ensuring another pig was put on to roast earlier,’ Svanna answered with a small curtsey, and took the horn filled with mead from the Queen. ‘You should rest before tonight. They will expect the great Queen of Agthir to shine.’
