“No, but we are self-sufficient here and could survive a siege for several months.”
Magnus scratched his beard. “That is all well and good, but weapons are my language. I assume you have an armoury.”
“Aye, in good time. Effective defences are not just about swords and axes.” Giric didn’t want to condescend, but Magnus was not understanding the greater picture.
As the tour continued, Magnus became more and more agitated so Giric conceded and brought him to the armoury.
“We keep all the weapons here for purposes of an attack or battle. Every clansman you encounter is responsible for his weapons, but my blacksmith is accessible to all who fall within my protection.”
Giric watched as Magnus studied the longswords, daggers, axes, and crossbows in the long narrow chamber. Long minutes passed while the man assessed the hundreds of weapons before him. He lifted several swords and checked them for balance and swung them over his head. He loaded and unloaded some of the bows and came to several maces lined up together.
For the first time since they’d met, Magnus smiled. “I like these,” he said.
“The mace has its purpose. It’s particularly effective when its wielder is mounted.”
Magnus held it up over his head then swung low. His eyes lit up like a child with a new toy making Giric grin.
“You may keep that one if you wish.”
Magnus stopped and considered Giric. “I approve of your defences. And I accept your gift.” He reached out his hand. Giric grasped his forearm as did Magnus; thankfully, that meant their bond was forged.
“You will bring my message to Gunnar?”
“He will return within a fortnight.”
With that, Magnus left the armoury and Giric returned to the hall to his waiting wife and closest ally. When he arrived he noted Saga’s absence and enquired as to her whereabouts.
“She has retired to her chamber,” Vigdis said. “She bade our brother farewell and excused herself.”
She went willingly? That was somewhat disconcerting and out of character. Giric took the steps two at a time to locate her.
He entered the chamber quietly and gently closed the door. She lay in a curled-up bundle in the middle of the bed with a quilt tucked in around her.
“Are you unwell?” he asked.
“The hall started to spin around me and I feared I would lose my guts so I chose to come here to rest to see if it would pass.”
Giric stroked her hair. “This is difficult for you, my warrior wife.”
“It is.”
“You have my promise that no one will ever get close to you again.”
“I believe you, husband. But a part of Magnus’s argument is sound. Were I still on Islay, this would not have happened.”
“How can you predict that?”
“Because on Islay, our threat was from our own kind. We know their ways and could sensibly defend ourselves from potential attack. This threat is new to me and I am trying to process it. I am used to an enemy coming at me front on, not from shadow and a poisoned dart.”
“So you agree with Magnus, that you are not safe here?” Giric could not believe his ears. She sounded like she was giving up. This was not the fearless woman he knew. Giric’s anger rose at that moment. He was now more determined than ever to push back the English king.
“I do not know, husband. I simply do not know.”
“What can I do?”
“There is nothing you can do. I will need to reconcile this business for myself. I would like to be alone for now.”
Giric leaned over and kissed her on the forehead then left the chamber. He stood outside for long moments considering her words with his guts twisting into knots. He’d been so driven to make this alliance work, he had refused to see any of the real dangers associated with such a strategy. His mistake was that he’d let his desire for his grand scheme prevent him from seeing some of the finer detail required for success.
