“I’m not planning to confront them. If I go alone, I can hide more easily. Make sure Gemma and Caelin are truly safe. I will wait for Cenydd to leave and speak with him. Or perhaps watch for them leaving for Ir Ysgyn. If they do.”
“You don’t think they will?”
Arne sighed. “I thought she truly wanted to go back. When she came out of the shieling dressed in her own clothes…” He turned to his brother. “But with Marcant there... Despite what King Rhun has promised, I am concerned for her safety.”
“Let me come with you. I do not wish to be sailing down here again in a repeat of last winter.” Ulf shuddered. “Björn barely survived. And you have already used up your luck when it comes to surviving injuries. It is not a risk I wish to take, possibly losing a brother here.”
“You will not lose me.” Arne laid a hand on Ulf’s shoulder and smiled. “Lord Cenydd is there. Although if Marcant has been pardoned, then either Lord Cenydd is out of favour, or Rhun will be expecting him to retaliate. Either way he may not be the safest ally.”
“Is she worth it?” Ulf asked.
“Yes. She is. And I should not have let her go.”
“If she is in danger, rescue her. Bring her back to Kirkjaster and we will decide as the Brothers of Thunder what to do. You should not have to face this alone.”
“Thank you.” Arne turned to look at the village as they approached. He gripped Ulf’s arm. “If anything should happen to me… look after Elisedd and Einar. And Rhiannon.”
“I will,” said Ulf. “Although Rhiannon is not yours to protect.”
Arne tried to steel himself for what he was about to say, as well as his brother’s reaction to it. He tightened his grip on Ulf’s arm. “And tell Einar… tell Einar never to doubt that his father loves him.”
Ulf looked down at where Arne was holding his arm, then back up at him, his forehead creased in a frown. “But Tormod— What? Arne… you were… that was why Ingrid…”
But the longship had now reached the shore and was scraping on the shingle. Arne strode to the prow, ready to climb onto the beach. He looked back at his brother who was staring at him open-mouthed.
“Should I tell Tormod?” Ulf called to him.
“Only if I don’t return,” Arne shouted back. “Otherwise I will tell him myself.”
“Very well,” Ulf agreed as Arne pushed the longship back out onto the water, then watched from the shore as it sailed onwards without him. Ulf looked back once and shook his head, then turned away. Arne gazed beyond the longship down the black river to the endless darkness of the ocean beyond. It was rare to see the Northern Lights from this place, and only a crescent moon lit the night, but he prayed he would live to see them again. And perhaps if he and Gemma made it together to the new lands of Thule in the north, then they would.
As Arne approached the gates of Dol Mawr, he called out to the guards. “I am Arne Olafsson, brother of Björn Olafsson, cousin toJarl Tormod of Kirkjaster. I request an audience with Merfyn Ap Rhys, leader of this village.”
One of the guards opened the gates to let him in, then escorted him to Merfyn’s home. There were a few villagers around, standing talking or finishing off the day’s tasks. All of them glanced over, but as soon as they noticed him looking at them, they returned immediately to their activities.
It shouldn’t have seemed suspicious, and yet it was. They were too quick to dismiss his presence. It felt almost as if the village was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen, but in the meantime pretending as if everything were normal. Arne tensed as he strode deeper into the too quiet village, hoping he wasn’t walking into a trap.
Chapter Twenty-Four
After the Norsemen hadleft, Gemma and Caelin had eaten, then been taken to their room. The large bed and elaborate tapestries present in a room only used for guests showed her brother’s fortunes were, indeed, improving. Her fists clenched with the knowledge that if the fishermen had been telling the truth, this was at the expense of Caelin’s tenants. Caelin hurried into the room ahead of her, delighted at the sight of the cubs in their basket, sleeping close to the fire.
Gemma listened to the river rushing past outside, and the sound of the gulls overhead as they settled for the night. She wished she had been able to watch the longship sailing downriver. She wasn’t sure why. Had she wanted to see him go, or did she hope he would change his mind and come back for her? But she knew he wouldn’t. He had been willing to swap her for a bag of gold. As she had observed the guard count out the coins, she had almost felt each one as a physical blow. She loved him and refused to let him risk his life for her, while he… She sighed. What had she been hoping for? That he would refuse the reward and insist on her leaving with them? Whatever he had done was not for her or because of her. It was to keep his own people safe, and he was more than willing to take the gold in place of anything she had to offer him.
“I need more milk for the cubs,” Caelin said to a serving woman as she entered the room with a jug of warm water. “And another blanket.”
“Yes, my lord. Right away,” the woman said, placing the water down next to the bowl and hurrying away to do his bidding.
As her footsteps grew fainter, Gemma sighed. How strange to hear her son addressed by his title, and how different from when she had been trying to concoct a substitute from oats. Here, whatever Caelin wished for would be provided for him. At least for as long as Rhun permitted it. And there was the catch. Everything here felt wrong. She had barely trusted her brother before, but knowing he had pardoned Marcant... It wasn’t right.
“Caelin, while you are waiting, let’s get you ready for bed.” Reluctantly he came over to her and she helped him to wash and dress in his nightclothes as Gemma continued to debate whether she had made the right decision or not.
Rhun was playing a game. One in which there were no rules. She knew he wouldn’t hesitate to treat her however he liked as long as it proved advantageous to him. He had promised Caelin would return to his lands and be restored to his birthright. Only her brother was able to do that. Caelin was the grandson of a king, the nephew of a king, and the son of a princess. He should not spend his life sheltering from the snow in a shieling high on a moor, nor hiding in a Norse village, afraid someone would recognise him. He should have wealth and lands and status, guards and servants. None of which she could give him if she chose Arne.
If she had stayed with him, she would have needed to give up everything, not just for her, but for her son as well. And that was never going to be fair to Caelin.
There was a soft knock on the door, then the serving woman entered again and crossed the room to where Caelin waited for her. Caelin thanked the woman, then set to work feeding thecubs before playing with them as the woman helped Gemma to undress, wash and get ready for bed.
Afterwards, Gemma lay unable to sleep, grateful that every task no longer fell to her. She was warm, well fed and safe. At least she hoped she was safe. Without Arne, she wasn’t sure she would ever feel safe again, but she supposed she would have to learn. Perhaps once they were back at home in Ir Ysgyn, she would feel more secure. She lay listening to the soothing flow of the river, then suddenly heard a new sound. Horses approaching, followed by shouts from the courtyard, then more inside the royal residence. Caelin didn’t stir, still nestled in his warm bed with the cubs beside him. She had nearly drifted off to sleep when someone knocked on her door and it swung open. The serving woman entered and hurried over as Gemma sat up.
