“I don’t want you to,” she whispered. She didn’t correct him on the details. The battle last year which had nearly killed Björn had not been directly because of her. Yes, she had been there at the start, and her presence, or rather the need to remove her from the situation, had meant that Björn’s wife Ylva had not been fighting at his side. She thought of Aoife and Rhiannon and all the settlers who had been so kind to her since she had arrived. But if the jarl’s closest companions no longer wanted her here, then it was time to leave.
“I am going to see what is happening with those men, find out whether you were seen, and then I am going to speak to Tormod.”
She jumped when Arne pulled the chair back to its position near the door, then pursed her lips and nodded up at him.
He glared at her and she turned away from the anger burning in his eyes. “If you leave this room, I will consider that an act of betrayal.”
She didn’t look at him, only nodded again. When the door slammed behind him, she wanted to be angry, but couldn’t. All she felt was a deep sense of sorrow.
Chapter Three
Arne strode through thehall, wondering again why Gemma had chosen to stay. It was a grand building now, fitting as the residence of a jarl, but it was no royal residence. He had seen the new one built by King Rhun in Perthawc. And, much as it pained him to admit it, he didn’t understand why Gemma, a princess, was content to remain here in Kirkjaster with her son, when they could have been in either Perthawc or, indeed, their home fort of Ir Ysgyn.
The lands Caelin had inherited from his father lay across the firth from Kirkjaster and bordered Marcant’s. The king had placed a steward in charge until Caelin reached his majority, but Arne thought it strange that King Rhun had tried to send Gemma and Caelin to Car Luel rather than the boy remaining with him in Perthawc. There were many things going on in this kingdom he did not understand, and he was right to be suspicious. The other Brothers of Thunder were settling in, becoming accustomed to this place and its people. Finding wives and starting families. It was up to him to ensure they did not allow complacency to put them in danger. Or was that his own guilt?
No. It was widely believed that last year Rhun had played a part in his own father’s execution at the hands of the Norsemen in Dublin. And with a brother like Rhun, how could he even beginto trust that Gemma would not betray them if it would benefit her and her son?
And yet, he was finding it increasingly hard to doubt her. Until today, despite watching her as carefully as the hawk he was named for, he had seen nothing to show she planned to betray them. Aoife enjoyed her company, and even Rhiannon, who was deeply distrustful of almost everyone, seemed to be willing to place her faith in her. Björn refused to hear a word said against her, and Ulf and Tormod were almost as protective.
But the Brothers of Thunder had been taken in by a woman like that before, and while the others might not see the similarities, Arne did. And as the one who had lost the most before, he refused to take any risks this time. Ingrid’s betrayal had almost cost him his life and the others didn’t know the whole truth about her. Perhaps that was why he was the only one who saw through Gemma’s façade.
Outside, the bitter wind against his face reminded him she had not seemed to know how he came by his scars. It surprised him she had not asked before. Most did. Typical. He spent so many hours wondering about her, suspicious of her every move and watching her for any sign that she was meeting with fellow Britons to plot to attack the settlement, while she had not even bothered after four months to ask how he had been scarred.
Arne reached the beach to find the rescue was over. The longship had been pulled safely ashore, and a coracle now lay beside it, upside down to allow it to dry. Four men wrapped in blankets began to shuffle towards the hall, flanked by Norse warriors. He was about to follow them and ensure Gemma was never within their sight when he spied his younger brother, Ulf.
“Arne! Come and help with these baskets. We saved some of the catch.”
Arne lifted a basket onto his back and strode after him. “Why are we carrying fish? Aren’t there enough thralls?”
“Of course, but let us show them that these fish will be guarded by warriors and that if they want them back, they will have to get past warriors, not merely some thralls.”
“Why were they out fishing in this weather?”
Ulf glanced over at the men. “It would seem there is trouble in Ir Ysgyn.”
“They are from Ir Ysgyn?” He knew better than to say either Caelin or Gemma’s names aloud as long as there were strangers within earshot.
“The steward put in place by King Rhun, Lord Fergus, is demanding higher and higher taxes from his people and Fergus’s collectors are ruthless. Added to this are the problems with the previous steward, and the people are unhappy.”
Arne and Ulf exchanged a look. Lord Marcant had already taken a great deal of wealth from both his own lands of Ardd Gowan and those of Ir Ysgyn, which he was overseeing for Caelin, to fund his rebellion.
“From what the fishermen say, there are shortages of everything.”
“Even food?”
“It would seem so.” Ulf looked out at the stormy water. “They knew it was risky, but they were desperate. And desperate men do desperate things.”
Arne nodded. “And what will happen with their catch?”
Ulf shrugged. “I am sure an agreement can be reached. Surely they value their lives more than some baskets of fish.”
Side by side, they overtook the exhausted and shivering men as they reached the doors.
“Those are our fish!” one shouted as they passed. Not so badly injured, Arne decided, if they were so keen to defend their catch from those who had saved their lives.
Jarl Tormod stepped out from the hall, and Arne grinned. His cousin was a formidable figure when he chose to be. He addressedthe men, who now stood staring at him. “I am sure you are all grateful to my men for rescuing you and would like to show your appreciation. Your catch will serve as payment. It is unlikely any of you would have reached shore without our longship coming to assist you, and your whole catch—and all your lives — would have been lost then. Now, at least, you may keep some of it, and we will also arrange for you to return home when you are recovered. Tell us, which of the lands south of the river is your home?”
“The lands of Ir Ysgyn,” a different man answered. “Lord Caelin’s lands, governed at present by Lord Fergus.” The man spat on the ground at his side.
