“I know everything that happens in this village, sweet one,” she said, waving her hand in the air. “Don’t you know that by now?” she said with a smirk.
“You mean you have spies everywhere,” Saga said with a grin.
They stepped inside the hut. A warm, earthy scent enveloped her as it always did there. A fire slowly burned in the hearth and a pot of something bubbling beckoned Saga. Freydis’ hut was a welcoming and fascinating place, filled with clay pots of various sizes containing who knew what. Saga reached for a spoon to sample some of the pot’s irresistible contents. Freydis swatted her hand away and drew her to a stool instead. She brought a candle close to Saga’s head and examined her without touching.
“I do not need to reveal my ways to you, Shield-Maiden,” she said in a distracted tone. “I see you are wounded again. What was it this time? A man looked at you the wrong way?”
Vigdis chortled and caught herself.
Freydis glanced between them both. “Oh, I see. Someone looked at Vigdis the wrong way. Should I go see to him first?”
Saga grinned. “If you treat him, I will never bring your sweets again.”
Not one for that kind of thing, Saga always kept squares of honeycomb to bring to Freydis who could not seem to get enough of them.
“I consider that a fair deal. Let the man fester and rot for all I care,” Freydis said. “Now let me see that head of yours,” she said as she placed the candle on the table nearby and pushed away some hair. “I do not see a cut. Is this not your blood?”
“Nay, it is his.”
Freydis leaned close to Saga’s face. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.” She stood and poked around a little more. “I see nothing but the start of a bruise and a welt. I will give you something to ease your head.”
“Thank you,” Saga said as Freydis moved away to pull some containers of various items down from a shelf.
“Something troubles you, Saga,” Freydis said. How the woman knew her mind had always amazed her.
“We have had visitors. Scots,” Vigdis said. “Our brother is talking of arranged marriages and my sister is opposed.”
“I imagine she is,” Freydis said. “And I cannot say I blame her. The Scots are not like us. They feel they are superior to us and want to change our way of life to mirror theirs.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Saga said. It was nice to have someone on her side at least.
“Even if their added armies could keep our own foes at bay?” Vigdis asked.
“Since when did you become a strategist?” Saga asked.
“I am not,” she said. “But I am a good listener. Most people ignore me and say what they want around me. I pay attention.”
Saga gave her a sidelong glance and grinned. “You and I have always made a good team. Now I know why.”
Before long, Freydis handed Saga a steaming cup. “Drink it and then lie down. You will sleep for a couple of hours. Vigdis and I will sit with you.”
Saga hated these concoctions, but accepted the necessity. She drank the fluid and lay back. Its effect was almost immediate. The room spun for a few seconds and her eyes fluttered shut.
* * *
Giric took a seat and waited to see how Gunnar would handle the earl. He had seen nobles throw a man out on his ear for far less than the threat he posed to the women. So why had that not yet occurred?
“You will leave my sisters alone, or I will end this arrangement here and now,” Gunnar said.
“Why should I not make an offer to them? I am more than your equal and can provide quite well for either of them.”
“But they do not like you, Einar. I do not like you.” Gunnar’s tone was not that of a furious chieftain protecting his people, rather soft as if the earl needed the words delivered slowly in order to understand them.
“You do business with me, but you do not like me?”
“That is correct. Now, tell me your news and be gone.”
“But it is late. Will you not offer me a bed?”
