“They have.”
Arne caught Cenydd’s eye and, although the other man did not react, Arne could tell by the tightness of his jaw that he was not happy with the situation. He glanced at some of the other faces and decided several of them were uncomfortable with Marcant’s presence and his pardon. Perhaps there was hope for their alliance yet. He was also able to see, from the sneers on other faces, that no matter their opinion on Marcant, some would never choose to side with the Norse. The kingdom of Strath Clut was far from united.
Cenydd wasn’t strong enough to go against his king alone. Not yet, anyway. It was not even a year since he had been granted Cadell’s former lands by Rhun and they would be taken away on a whim if the king desired it. Arne wondered if the time would come when Tormod would be willing to join forces with him.
“Those who stood against Marcant were standing against their rightful lord and deserved their punishments. Marcant has assured me of this,” King Rhun said.
“Does this include the women of Cadell’s household?” Ulf asked. “Marcant had no right to punish them.”
“That is not a matter for you to concern yourself with, Norseman. Alliance or no.”
Cenydd shook his head briefly at them so Arne put a hand on Ulf’s arm. They were outnumbered and the king rightly had the power to pardon Marcant if he so wished, regardless of the reality of what had happened.
Any revenge Rhiannon was entitled to would not be meted out in this court. But if Cenydd did not want him to press the matter now, then he trusted the younger man’s judgment. If he got the chance, he would try to speak with him later, but he doubted it would be possible here. And even if possible, it would certainly be risky for both of them.
“Princess Maithgemm, Lord Caelin, it seems your lands will be returned to you and that you will be safe amongst your own people now, so we will return with your permission to Kirkjaster,” Arne said, then bowed to Gemma, but avoided looking directly at her. After everything they had shared, he neither wanted to see her dismissal of him, nor did he want to risk letting anyone else in the room see what was between them.
“Don’t leave us, Arne,” Caelin said. Gemma caught hold of him before he got out of his seat and ran towards Arne. Caelin struggled for a moment until she whispered to him and the boy’s shoulders slumped but he stopped trying to run.
Gemma’s gaze met his own over Caelin’s head and although she looked away immediately, her expression showed she was just as torn as Caelin was. They needed to leave. Now. Before any of them revealed more than they wanted to in front of King Rhun and his nobles. He should not have come.
“Thank you for accompanying us to Perthawc,” Gemma said, keeping a firm hold of Caelin’s hand. “And as soon as you have been rewarded you may leave.” Before Arne and Ulf bowed, she turned away, dismissing his presence. Caelin gazed over at him, his shoulders drooping, but Gemma didn’t let go. It was the right thing to do, the best in these circumstances, and yet he hadn’t been prepared for just how much it would hurt. Gemma, on the other hand, kept her shoulders relaxed and her head held high. The fact she was the highest ranking woman in the room could not be missed by anyone observing her.
Arne had never truly seen Gemma in the role she had been born for. It gave him hope that, no matter what her brother did, she would find a way to survive as she had done up until now.
“Very well. The reward, then we will leave,” Arne said, redirecting his gaze to Rhun. If the boy were to reclaim his birthright, if Gemma was to move forward with her life, she was choosing to do so without him and he had no choice now but to accept it. There was no way for them to be together. There could be no trust, not as long as things between their people stood as they did. “The princess came with us of her own free will. We have returned her in good faith.”
Rhun gestured to one of the guards, who approached them, and they stood watching as the guard counted the reward out coin by coin, placed it in a poke and handed it to them. Arne hefted it, tied it on his belt, then nodded first at the guard then to the king. He knew Gemma was watching him. Knew he should have let Ulf accept the reward and distanced himself from it, but he hadn’t. He looked at her and raised the poke. Only yesterday, the devastation on her face would have made him take her in his arms and comfort her, but now he was its cause. But this was for the best. For Gemma and Caelin at least.
“We will send word to your jarl,” Marcant said. “Everything will be different now. Our alliance must be renegotiated.”
Walking out of the great hall was one of the hardest things Arne had ever done. When Caelin had called out to him, he had almost got down on his knees and begged Gemma not to stay. Instead, he was leaving, the weight of the gold as heavy as the guilt that lay on his shoulders.
When they reached the dock, Arne looked back up at the royal residence, wondering whether Rhun would keep his word.
Ulf had said nothing as they left the hall, but he sensed his brother’s eagerness to talk.
“What? Arne demanded.
“Are you sure you have done the right thing?”
“For Gemma and Caelin? Yes.”
“And for yourself?”
“No.”
Ulf placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. They boarded the longship and the other warriors set their oars in place and rowed out to where they would set the sail.
“I do not know if I can face her,” Ulf said, breaking the silence that had descended.
“Who?”
“Rhiannon.”
“Because of Marcant?” Arne asked.
“I don’t understand why more of the nobles have not challenged Rhun for pardoning Marcant. The man deserves to pay for what he did.” Ulf frowned and clenched his fists. “The only thing that saved Marcant just now is that Rhiannon has never told me what happened.”
