“You’re right,” Björn said. “But for me it’s not about marriage or children. With that in mind, I will leave the two of you and go in search of some amusement and a willing woman to share my bed tonight, without the risk of ending up married and certainly not as a father.” He drained his horn of mead and thumped it down on the table.
“Ylva is over there,” Tormod pointed at one of the warrior women sitting at a table. Björn scowled at him, then stood and, a trifle unsteadily, made his way off the dais and into the main area of the hall where a game of chance was being set up.
Aoife watched Tormod stare at the couple as Björn put his arms around Ylva, kissed her neck. She felt a sudden twinge of jealousy. Was there a woman here with whom Tormod had spent time? How did she feel about Aoife’s presence? Aoife turned her attention to Björn and the woman. The large man had his arms around her and together they were watching the game unfold. He leaned in and nuzzled the woman’s neck.
Tormod suddenly shot to his feet and strode from the hall. Frowning, she looked back at Björn’s woman. Was she someone who had been special to Tormod? Or was it Björn’s mention of children that had disturbed him?
“Where is he off to now?”
Aoife jumped at Ragna’s voice behind her. She really should pay more attention to her surroundings. She’d been so lost in thought the past few days that it seemed to have become easy to sneak up on her—even within a crowded room. She turned to greet at Ragna but found that she just couldn’t make herself smile.
“What is the matter?” Ragna asked. Aoife shook her head, unable to speak for fear she would cry instead. “Whatever did those boys argue about now?”
Aoife shrugged, then frowned. “Björn was talking about us having children. I think Tormod took it badly.” Something Björn said came back to her.Another son. Tormod would be welcominganother son. “Does Tormod already have children?”
Ragna pursed her lips and glanced away. “You will need to ask your husband about this, but yes, there is a child.”
“A boy?”
“Yes.”
“So he has no need of an heir?”
Ragna laughed. “No man needs only one heir, my dear. And it’s not just the heirs but the getting of them that most men enjoy.” She smiled. “Was that worrying you, that he would need no other child? Children die. Young men die in battle. And sometimes there are other things to consider.”
“Like what?” Aoife asked, frowning.
Ragna glanced towards the door of the hall and froze. Aoife followed her gaze and saw Tormod standing in the open doorway, watching her.
“You must ask your husband that yourself. If not now, then wait until he is in a good mood. And if he will not tell you, don’t take it to heart. Some things a man finds hard to admit. It may be wise not to push him.”
Aoife stared at Ragna, even more confused than she had been earlier. She blinked, then looked towards the door that led outside. Tormod stood in the shadows, waiting for her. She swallowed. “All right. I will speak to my husband and hope for the best.”
At least now she knew she wasn’t the only one keeping a secret.
Chapter Eighteen
Tormod watched Aoife approach.The smoke and heat in the hall contrasted with the fresh chill of the night air behind him. It was very late; it must be after midnight as there were only a few hours of night at this time of year. The outline of theMidsommerstångcould only just be seen against the darkness of the sky and the moonlight illuminating a trail over the water.
As she grew closer, he searched her face for any sign of censure or deception but saw none.
In front of him now, she asked, “Was what Björn said true?”
He knew he should simply tell her the story, however, then she would know he was not the great leader she thought he was. He realised he wanted her to trust and respect him more than he had thought.
“Do you have a son already?” she asked.
“What did Ragna tell you?”
“That I needed to speak to you.”
Before he could begin to respond, one of the villagers staggered towards them, a horn of mead clutched in his hand, his red cheeks revealing how much he had already imbibed. “Jarl Tormod, the very man. As it is now midsummer, perhaps you will grant me a gift? The lands at the north of peninsula. The lands I have petitioned for more than once and have not yet been allocated. They go to wrack and ruin,herre.”
Tormod gritted his teeth and stepped between the man and Aoife. “You know the reasons why that land has not already been allocated, do you not?”
“Yes, although—”
“Then you know I am not going to simply allocate ownership of it without first discussing it at the Thing.”
