“Who?” Gunnar asked.
“He introduced himself as Earl Einar.”
Ragnar laughed. “Einar Long-Leg? He’s no threat.”
“Take a sword, each of you,” Gunnar said. “He may not be a threat on his own, but he has managed to ally with those who are. If he is here, others are close.”
“Who is this Earl?” Giric asked.
“He was awarded the title and has failed to find the resilience and dedication to turn his barren lands into a lucrative homestead. Instead, he flaunts the title and lives off the forced generosity of others.”
Giric grabbed a broadsword. It was heavier than those he wielded, but the balance was such that the weight was not a burden. Once again, he was surprised and impressed with the skill and thought that had gone into something they crafted. Barbarians indeed. They hid their intellect well, these beasts.
Chapter Three
Einar Long-Leg sidled up to Vigdis. He was the worst sort of slithering slime to have ever been spawned from Loki. With one leg slightly longer than the other, his gait was off just enough that he leaned a little forward and to the left. When Vigdis cringed, Saga clenched her fists and stepped in between them. Earl or not, he would not lay a finger on her.
“Saga. The great Harldson Shield-Maiden. Do you want some attention too? I thought your features were too manly from afar. I see, now that we are in such proximity, you are attractive as well. Not as much as your sister, but still pleasant enough to bed. Come, let us find a quiet corner.”
At that point something inside Saga snapped. How many times had a man grabbed her bottom or her breasts or assumed she wanted anything to do with them just because they had shown her attention? Too many. She was having none of this man.
“I would rather sleep with the dogs than allow one of your spiny fingers to touch me.”
One greasy black eyebrow shot up then his eyes narrowed. The earl grabbed her by the throat and tried to shove her backward, but Saga had already planted her feet solid, anticipating such a move.
Her height had always served her well in battle. Though this man was stronger than she, he would not overtake her easily.
“Release her,” Bjorn said, crossing the hall in long strides.
Einar turned his head at the sound of Bjorn’s voice. Clasping her hands together, she used the moment of distraction and swung hard, striking his head with as much force as she could. When he released her throat, she grabbed his shoulders and slammed her head into his then let him go which landed him backward on his arse. She’d have a nasty ache in her head for a day, but it was worth it to see this man put in his place at her feet.
Bjorn stopped short of them and grinned. He smiled showing all his teeth and waggled his eyebrows at her the same way he always did when she’d bested some man. Sweet as he was, she was not interested in his attention either.
“I love you, Shield-Maiden,” Bjorn said, in the same doe-eyed way he’d said it for the past several years.
How old had they been the first time he’d professed his love? Six? Seven summers? In any case, he always had a way of disarming her outrage.
A moment later the earl was on his feet and bounding toward her. “I will have you yet, Shield-Maiden, and you will beg for my attention.”
“You may try, Ergi, but you do not have the equipment to succeed.”
Bjorn stepped between them as the earl’s face grew wide with shock and Saga was about to clobber him on the head again. While it was true, to call someone Ergi was a gross insult insinuating effeminate ways, but Saga did not care. She would rather dine with the pigs.
“You will answer for your crimes, Shield-Maiden. I outrank you and your brother, and I will have satisfaction for the wound you have given me and my honour.”
“What passes here?” Gunnar asked from the doorway.
Saga grabbed Vigdis’s hand and met him by the hearth. “This man laid hands on our sister and attempted to lay hands on me. The bruises on my throat will prove my words and Bjorn can speak to it as well.”
“She insulted me!” Einar said as he scrambled to his feet.
“I will do more than that if you ever come near me or my sister again!”
Saga struggled to contain the fury enveloping her. Blood pounded in her ears and her whole body tingled. Vigdis winced and only then did Saga realize she’d been squeezing her delicate hand so tight. She released her hand and pushed her behind and out of the Earl’s sight. Saga pulled a dagger from her belt and twirled it to taunt the earl. Her blood was up and she was itching for a fight. Whether the source was the arrival of the Scots, the arrogance of the earl, or the assumption she’d let any of them have their way—she was ready to go.
Gunnar put his hands up. “Saga, take your sister and go to the healer. You have blood all over your face and I want to make certain you are not damaged.”
“The blood is his, not mine.” As she said this, she noted the slight curve on Giric’s mouth. He stood behind Gunnar looking at her not with love as Bjorn had, not with lust, as the Earl had, but something else; something akin to admiration. That was an expression she had not anticipated. She was not in the mood for that either.
