“And if I choose to leave?” Ulf asked. “Would you really choose the man whose foolishness caused you such harm over your brother?”
“Tormod has led us wisely ever since. I will not hold one decision against him,” Arne replied. “After all, if I did that, then perhaps you would not fare so well, Ulf. You have not always made the wisest of choices yourself.”
“But I am not jarl.”
“No, you are not. And before you say anything else, consider who those words will harm the most.”
Ulf glanced over to where the two boys stood watching the confrontation. “And what of the problems now? Do you not see the same thing happening again? Tormod allows strangers to live amongst us, strangers who may wish us harm.”
Tormod started to speak, but Aoife interrupted him. “Neither Elisedd nor myself wish you harm. Elisedd has already stood trial under your own laws and been proved innocent. Do you not accept the rulings of your own people?”
“You have not faced something similar, though,” Ulf replied. “And Tormod’s choice of wife in the past nearly killed my brother.”
Aoife frowned, trying to work out how that could be true. “When my father’s men attacked the village, they were instructed not to hesitate to kill me. What loyalty do you think I owe them after that?”
Ulf glared at her, then marched off towards the hall. Tormod moved to follow him, but Arne put a hand on his arm.
“Let him go,” Arne said. “He will come around. He is torn between wanting to avenge me and wanting to remain loyal to you. Perhaps in defending this village, defending your wife, he will be reconciled with the past.”
Chapter Thirty-one
Aoife walked with Tormodback to their room. They entered, then stared at one another. She tried to gauge his mood, difficult when he just stood there leaning against the door.
He was lost in thought, but at least he didn’t appear to be angry.
“So, the village will accept Einar even though he is not your son, so long as he does not become jarl?”
Tormod walked over and sat down heavily on the bed.
“Yes,” Tormod replied. “I have always acknowledged him. Perhaps that was a mistake. But after what happened to Arne, and his mother’s death… well, he was young. He had done nothing wrong. Even if his mother had betrayed us all.”
“All of you?” Aoife asked, frowning. “But I thought it was Arne…”
The silence in the room grew heavy. Twice Tormod started to speak, but no words came out. Then his shoulders slumped, and he began.
“When I first met Ingrid… I thought she was the most beautiful woman I had ever met,” he finally said. “I was young, eager to prove myself a mighty warrior, to go and seek out my fortune in other lands, but Ingrid… Ingrid obsessed me.” He sighed and moved back to sit on the edge of the bed. Aoife joined him and tried to put an arm around him. He shook it off. “I do not deserve your sympathy. And I do not want your pity.”
“It hurts you to tell me this story. I only want to comfort you,” she said, placing a palm on the side of his face. “No sympathy, certainly no pity. You don’t seem to be a man who needs pity, Tormod.”
“Arne is the one who deserves pity. He is the one who…” Tormod looked at her, then took her hands in his. His touch was cold, and she wished she could warm him.
“Ingrid’s father lived across the fjord. Her family were not well-liked, always ready to accuse their neighbours of stealing or raiding in difficult times,” Tormod said. “We knew better than to trust them, but I thought she was different. As I told you before, it was only after we were married that I realised there had been someone else before me. I don’t know who he was or why she left him but when she met me, she needed a father for her child. I liked to boast about how I would be a jarl one day and she was an ambitious woman.”
“Or maybe she did care for you?”
Tormod shrugged. “After Einar was born she seemed obsessed. Spent all her time fretting about him and whether he was safe in the village or not. She told me she was worried her father would find her and asked me often about how safe the village was.”
This wasn’t really answering her question. “Arne’s scars?” She frowned. “How did he get them?”
“One day Arne saw her leaving the village and followed her. She returned to the hut where we had met in the summer. When he confronted her there, she said that she was lonely and wanted only to return to the place where we had first met and been happy.”
“And Arne believed her?”
“No. But I did. A few days later, Ulf followed her.” He stopped, took a breath. “This time he saw her meeting someone at the hut.”
“Einar’s father?”
“I can only assume so,” Tormod said. “When Ulf told me, I refused to believe them. That night the village was attacked by Ingrid’s family.”
