Hugh laughed heartily, his sharp blue eyes sparkling. “You have said more than once that your wife rules the home, and you the sea.”
“True, except that woman takes advantage of the power I give her. But enough. Has Garrick returned yet?”
“Nay.”
Anselm frowned. The last time his second son did not return for the winter, he had been taken prisoner by the Christians. But he was raiding then. The spring before last, Garrick had sailed to try his luck at trading, so Anselm would not worry yet, not till the cold set in again.
“And my bastard, Fairfax? Where is he?”
“Whaling off the coast,” Hugh answered curtly.
“When?”
“A week past.”
“So he will return soon.”
Hugh stood up stiffly. A powerfully built man of thirty years, he was the image of his father. He resented his half-brother and any attention his father gave him.
“Why do you concern yourself with him? Granted, his mother is a freewoman, but he is still a bastard, no different than those you sired from the slaves.”
Anselm’s blue eyes narrowed. “The others are daughters. I have only two legitimate sons and Fairfax. Do not begrudge me my concern for him.”
“Loki take him! He is no Viking. He is weak!”
“My blood, though little of it, is in his veins. I will not speak of it again. Now, tell me how it went while I was gone. Was there trouble with the Borgsen clan?”
Hugh shrugged his large shoulders and sat down again. “Two cows were found dead near the fields, but there was no proof that pointed to the Borgsens. It could have been the work of a malcontent slave.”
“But you doubt this, son?”
“Yea. More likely ’twas done by Gervais or Cedric, or one of their cousins. They are asking us, nay, begging us, to retaliate! When will you give us leave to attack?”
“This feud will be fought fairly,” Anslem returned with annoyance. “We were the last to openly attack.”
“So it is their turn?” Hugh continued, his voice filled with sarcasm. “Thor! Just because you and Latham Borgsen were once friends is no reason to conduct this battle with honor. Years have passed without bloodshed.”
“You are too used to fighting our foreign enemies, Hugh. You have never fought our own before. ’Twill be done with honor. Latham was not to blame for what happened, but he had to stand by his sons and take their side.”
“Are you forgetting you lost your only legitimate daughter because of his sons?” Hugh hissed.
“I am not forgetting. As Odin is my witness, the others will pay one day as Edgar did. But there will be no sneak attacks, no foul play. ’Twill be done with honor.” Anselm rose from the tub and was quickly wrapped in a woolen robe by the pretty slave girl. “I trust two of their cows were also found dead?”
Hugh grinned and relaxed. “They were.”
“Good,” Anselm replied. “So ’tis again their move. And now that Heloise can find no fault with me, I will dress and meet you at the hall.”
“I was told you returned with captives.”
“I did. Seven in all.”
“I am curious,” Hugh continued. “They say one was a small man with very long black hair. You have enough male slaves. Why bring this one?”
Anselm chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “The one you speak of is also a woman. In truth, she is the one they would have wed to your brother.”
“Eh? The Lady Brenna? I am eager to see that one.”
“She had courage like I have never seen in a woman. She fought us with sword in hand, and wounded Thorne. Her spirit was magnificent to watch.”
