Arne exchanged a look with Ulf as they carried the baskets around the side of the hall to the huts used for smoking and preserving. Were they really fishermen or did they suspect Gemma and Caelin were here? Although given the weather and the danger the men had placed themselves in, the story about the food shortages rang true.
There was also the possibility of Gemma taking advantage of the arrival of some of her own people. He had raised this with Tormod before, but his cousin had told him she wasn’t a prisoner and was free to leave whenever she wanted. Tormod had agreed that he could watch her to make sure she didn’t betray them, but his cousin’s eyes had been full of pity, clearly thinking Arne was living in the past and not the present.
When Gemma had asked to join in with the other women when Ylva taught them to defend themselves, Arne had wanted Tormod to refuse her request. Tormod had agreed, reluctantly, and tasked Arne with ensuring Gemma’s safety instead. It angered Arne that Tormod did not see Gemma as a threat. Her friendship with his wife was blinding him, just as his love for Ingrid had blinded him before.
Arne tensed. It hadn’t only been Tormod who had been deceived by Ingrid, and Arne’s sense of betrayal ran far deeper thanhe had ever admitted to his brothers. He placed the basket down beside Ulf’s, ready for the thralls to preserve. Then they went together into the hall to eat.
“Let us sit here,” he said to Ulf, indicating a table near the door to the passageway, which led to the smaller rooms at the back of the hall where Gemma and Caelin were. Arne was taking no risks. His presence here would ensure that Gemma would have no opportunity to meet the fishermen and talk. Ulf raised his eyebrows, but sat. He gestured to a thrall, and the woman brought them each a horn of ale. Arne listened as closely as possible to the fishermen, grateful that Ulf was the quietest of his brothers. The fishermen, from what he heard, spoke only of the loss of most of their catch and the situation at home. Two of them were clearly not happy with Tormod’s proposition, however, there was little they could do about it. There was no mention of Gemma. Or Caelin. No mention of anything except fish and the sea and taxes.
“You are very serious today, brother,” Ulf said.
“Am I not always serious?” Arne replied, before taking a long, slow draught of ale.
“Yes, but more so today. I saw you with her. She was heading towards the shore as the men were rescued.” Ulf relaxed back in his chair and moved his head slowly from side to side, stretching out taut muscles. Arne was not ready to relax.
“Do you think she was trying to speak to them?”
“She says she was trying to find our mother.”
“For Aoife? That could well be true.”
Ulf observed him as he moved on to stretching out his shoulders and arms, then took a long drink of ale, but Arne refused to be goaded into responding. “You think they have come for her?”
Arne was sure his brother was smirking.
“It is possible.”
Ulf raised his eyebrows. “If that is the case, then why have they not simply asked? Why pretend to drown?”
“You think I am being ridiculous?”
“No.” Ulf sighed. “I think you should not let your feelings cloud your judgment.”
“I am not likely to do that again, Ulf.”
His brother nodded at him and took another drink. “Where is she now?”
“In her room.”
“At whose request?”
“Mine.”
“And she agreed?”
“She did.” Arne rubbed at the back of his neck. Gemma had not argued with him about remaining in her room. She was more annoyed that he was the one giving her orders, rather than the orders themselves. Perhaps he was being ridiculous. Perhaps she did need to stay hidden from her own people, and it was not just an excuse to remain here.
Ulf glanced at the closed door, then back to the Britons, who were still sitting, shivering around the fire. “And so, you are sitting here to what? Ensure she does not consort with them in secret?”
“It is a reasonable risk.”
“Hardly. She stays with us because there are none amongst her own people she can be sure of. Not at present. And at least none powerful enough to protect her.”
“And what if she brings Marcant here? Will you mock me then? Or the king?”
“Our alliance has always depended on Rhun’s goodwill. He sent his sister away and does not seem to have made any attempt to find her, even though he was told by Lord Cenydd someone had kidnapped her on the way to Car Luel.” Ulf checked on the fishermen, who were muttering amongst themselves in Brythonic, then looked back at his brother.
“He might blame us for her kidnap if he discovers her here.”
