Curiosity made her eyes sparkle. First Garrick left instructions that she should stay in that small room. Now this old man warned her to stay out of sight.
“What is wrong with me that I should not be seen?”
“Brenna, lass, you must know you are a comely wench. These Vikings are a lusty lot, with an eye for a fair maid such as you. The master is generous with his female slaves. His friends need not even ask permission to have one of his wenches, for his hospitality is well known.”
“You cannot be serious!” Brenna gasped, appalled.
“’Tis true, lass. At one particularly boisterous affair, a poor wench was tumbled before all, right there on the floor of the hall.”
Brenna’s eyes opened wide; they were filled with repulsion. “Garrick allowed it?”
“He would have stopped that form of entertainment, but he was passed out on the table—or so the story made the rounds—thoroughly besotted.”
“It happened nonetheless?”
“Aye, so take care, lass. I would not see the same happen to you.”
“Have no fear, Erin.Iwould not allow it!”
The old man shook his head doubtfully as he watched her walk away.
Garrick sat at the head of a long table. His father was on his left, facing the room, and his mother sat on his right. His brother Hugh was also there, his plump wife by his side. Around the rest of the table were Garrick’s closest friends, those who had sailed with him. And at the foot of the table sat his half-brother Fairfax.
Garrick eyed his brothers thoughtfully. Although he resembled his older brother in height and build, he and his younger brother had in common only their eyes, which were like those of their grandfather, Ulric. Fairfax was less than a year younger than Garrick, but he was a good head shorter; in that regard he took after his mother, Yarmille.
Garrick and Hugh enjoyed the normal rivalry that exists between brothers, even if it was sometimes a bit too earnest. Still, the bond of brotherhood was strong between them. With Fairfax, Garrick enjoyed a different relationship, of companionable friendship, just like the one he shared with Perrin, his closest friend.
Between Hugh and Fairfax, however, there was genuine dislike, and tensions were usually high when they were in the same room together. Hugh begrudged Fairfax their father’s love, and Fairfax reacted to that animosity as any man would, with equal hostility.
Garrick, unlike Fairfax, had gained Ulric’s admiration and thus this house and surrounding lands. Fairfax had nothing but his mother’s small house and a fishing boat. It was a wonder the youngest brother was not bitter. His life was a hard one, and each day he worked to ensure he would survive a little longer. Yet Garrick knew he preferred it this way. Fairfax enjoyed the simple life of a fisherman.
Theskaldfinished a humorous song of Loki’s exploits, to which he added mischievous antics of his own making, and left the crowd roaring its approval. Even Anselm had tears in his eyes from laughing so hard.
Heloise leaned close to her son when the noise died down somewhat and whispered teasingly, “You know, Garrick, your tale of the Slavic tribe you encountered was almost as amusing as that one. Are you sure you did not dress up the truth some little bit?”
“For shame, woman!” Anselm roared, having overheard her. “My son does not need to embellish his tales as I do.” Then he laughed at his own jest.
“Nay. With you, ’tis not known where the truth ends and the tale begins,” Heloise retorted, then added thoughtfully, “As with your tale of the Celtic girl. I wonder now if all you said was true.”
Anselm scowled across the table at her. “’Twas true, mistress! I did not need to elaboratethattale.”
Garrick looked on curiously. He had related his travels at length. But he had yet to ask about that stubborn wench he had found in his bed the night before.
“How is the girl, Garrick?” his mother asked. “I saw her but yesterday and she was still so bitter. She would hardly speak to me at all.”
“Well, she has found her tongue, I’m sorry to say.”
Anselm chuckled at this. “So you have tasted a bit of her spirit, eh?”
Garrick turned to his father. “Spirit? Nay, obstinacy is a better word. She is mine?”
“Aye, yours alone.”
Garrick grunted. “Well, she will not concede this.”
“I did not think she would.” Anselm grinned, making his son scowl.
He told Garrick of her capture, a story he had already related many times with pleasure. It did not interest the others, but Garrick listened most intently.
