“’Twas Anselm Haardrad who brought her here and he gave her to his second son, Garrick. In a short time, Garrick has been bewitched by her. He treasures this girl and will be devastated when she runs away.”
“Runs away?”
The woman laughed, an evil cackle. “It must appear that way. You see, Garrick will search for her far and wide, but he will give up eventually. However, if he thought she did not leave freely, that she was taken away by force, he would never rest until he found her.”
“It sounds to me like a trap,” Arno said. “We cross the fjord and find Haardrads waiting there for us.”
“If you know anything of the Haardrads, you know they do not deal in trickery. They fight fairly, Borgsen.”
“’Tis the truth,” Cedric admitted reluctantly. “Hugh came and challenged my brother. ’Twas a fair fight.”
“Mayhaps this is so,” Arno replied skeptically. “But your father should be informed of this plan—he knows the enemy well. ’Twould be foolish to agree to this woman’s scheme without Latham’s advice.”
Young Cedric was affronted. “Do you imply, Arno, that I cannot decide on this matter myself?”
“Nay, only that I think it wise that your father be enlightened. After all, there has been no bloodshed in this feud for years, naught but the slaughter of worthless cattle and scrawny dogs. This woman’s scheme could well bring about vengeance of a different nature.”
“It could also make us richer, with no one the wiser,” Cedric responded greedily.
“And the slave?” Arno persisted. “How will you explain her presence here?”
“My friend, you search for a storm when it has yet to brew. We will keep the slave at your farm until we decide what to do with her. ’Tis that simple.”
The woman stepped closer, glad to see that the greed of these men was overcoming their suspicions. “You need have no fear that bloodshed or vengeance will come of this,” she assured them. “It must be made to appear that the slave has run away. Therefore, you and your clan will not be suspect. And you will have this to gain,” showing them the sack of gold. “You will also have the knowledge that you harmed a Haardrad without him knowing of it. If you give me your word that you will do as I ask, you will have the payment now and see no more of me. Do you agree?”
The man on the ground did not consult his friend again, but answered readily. “First you will tell us how you think this plan of yours can be accomplished, then you will have our word.”
The woman smiled, confident that she would soon have what she wanted.
Brenna woke to boisterous cheers and the sound of horses galloping away from the settlement. Her first observation was that she was alone. Then the sounds that had awakened her made sense in her turbid thoughts. The horse race had already begun.
She quickly donned her velvet gown, careful to shake the straw from it first, grabbed her cloak and left the stable. The crisp morning air helped to bring her fully awake, and she wondered now how she had slept through all the excitement as men readied their horses for the race.
The memory of the night before was like a cancerous sore festering inside her, and the thought of staying for more festivities was abhorrent.
In the crowd that had gathered for the start of the race, Brenna spied her aunt and sauntered slowly to her side. Linnet looked refreshed after a good night’s sleep, and met Brenna with a warm smile.
“I thought you would be here to wish your Viking luck,” Linnet said cheerfully. “He did look for you.”
“If he had wanted any good wishes, then he should have woken me,” Brenna replied in a listless tone.
“What is amiss, Brenna?” Linnet asked. “You do not look well at all.”
“I am merely tired. I did not sleep well in the stable.”
Linnet’s concern was visible in the tightness of her expression. “My quarters are empty. You may sleep there for a while if you like. The men will not return until midday.”
“Nay, Aunt. I will make my way home. I have no wish to see Garrick this day.”
“But the feast…”
“Will continue without me. I will not celebrate when I have naught to be thankful for.”
“What has happened, Brenna? You were so happy when last we spoke.”
“I have been a fool.”
“Because of Garrick? Does he not care for you as I—as we thought?”
