“But you do not have my blessing. Nor will you get it,” he said. “I do not recognize this betrothal.”
“You are not chief here, brother,” Gunnar said. “I am and I have given blessing over this union. It is good for our sister, and it is good for this village. You do not know what we face here.”
Magnus folded his arms across his chest. “Nevertheless, I cannot condone a marriage between one of my family members and a Scot. You do not know of the things I have seen.”
His words were daggers in her heart. Would he really make her choose between the brother she adored and the man to whom she was betrothed?
“Then I have nothing more to say to you,” Saga said with a heavy heart.
With that she left the hall. She had no intention of a particular direction and so went where her feet led her. Magnus was wrong, just like she’d been wrong at first. Giric had said from the beginning that the less they understood one another, the more likely they were to never settle their differences.
One thing was for sure. Gunnar was the kind of man to whom a peaceful, settled life was appealing. Magnus, on the other hand, was like their father had been. A conqueror. Thank the gods Gunnar had been born first. And thank the gods Giric of Alba was like Gunnar.
* * *
Giric watched Magnus as Saga left the hall. He wanted to go after her, but he needed to have a better understanding of Magnus’ reasoning. If he thought there was a problem on Lewis with the intermarriages, Giric would rather know why now in order to make their efforts a success.
“You said we do not know of the things you have seen in reference to alliances between our people,” he said to Magnus. “What kind of things? You do recognize that your people came here and took that which was not yours.”
If that offended either Magnus or Gunnar, Giric did not care. He could not accept this entitled attitude Magnus displayed.
“I have been to Lewis,” Magnus said. “There is much dilution of cultures on both sides. I do not think it is good.”
“What kind of dilution?”
“Well, many villages have constructed churches and our people do not even pray to our own gods anymore.”
“Some have converted to Christianity?” Gunnar asked.
“Ja, and the same has been happening in Ireland and in England,” Magnus said. “Who are we without our gods?”
“No one will be forced to enter into an agreement with us if they do not wish it,” Giric said.
“No, but if a man here takes a Scot for a wife will he be expected to build a chapel for her to pray? Will she be willing to follow our ways? I would not take a Scot for a wife if that was what she expected,” he said.
“Magnus, you raise a good point. But what about our threats? We cannot keep Short-Beard at bay forever. Giric and Osgar have offered their armies and can secure the Scots King’s army as well. That will secure these lands for us.”
“We do not have to stay here,” Magnus said.
Gunnar sat forward. “And where would we go? Iceland? How long before all the land there is taken up and the same squabbles over land begin anew—then what? Move again? I tell you brother, Giric of Alba’s proposal is a good one. And the best way for our clan to continue to prosper.”
“There is talk of more land to the west. We can go wherever we want.”
Gunnar shook his head. “No, Magnus. We will stay here, and we will make peace with the Scots and build our markets.”
Magnus clenched his fists. “It is a mistake, brother.”
“It is my will,” Gunnar said. “Now bring your spoils so they may be divided up among your crew and me.”
Giric watched as Magnus’ jaw ticked. Giric suspected this was the usual way of things, but that Magnus was reluctant to share his wealth. Would he be allowed to take his belongings and leave again? Having no experience in how a raid worked when the men of the clan returned, he was curious to see what would happen. And just as curious to see what they considered spoils.
Monasteries all along the coast of Britain and well into the mainland had been raided for decades by these men. Precious treasures symbolizing the glory of God. And these men had used brute force to destroy places of sanctuary. The thought made Giric’s guts churn, but also strengthened his resolve to solidify these alliances and the resulting peace he was certain would follow.
Magnus nodded once at Gunnar and with barely a glance in his and Osgar’s direction, left the hall only to return with six men all carrying heavy chests, overflowing with shiny objects.
The volume even made Gunnar lean forward.
“You’ve been busy,” Gunnar said.
