“A tour it is. Magnus was quite happy with it, aye. In fact, I think that was the only time I’ve ever seen the man smile.”
“He does not do that often. I blame it on the stick that remains firmly planted up his arse,” Gunnar said and roared in laughter.
Giric liked how the man could entertain himself so easily. He was enjoyable to be around, and Saga was more relaxed with him here, as well.
Once their bellies were full, they all walked together to the armoury. Giric answered the many questions Gunnar had about the number of times the steel was folded in his blades, how the spikes were attached to the mace, how they kept the fires hot enough.
“We use more than peat. Coal burns hotter and for longer, but aye, peat is in enough abundance. Would you like to speak with the blacksmith?”
“I would like some of this coal for Ragnar.”
“I’m certain we can make arrangements.”
“This exchange of ideas and materials makes for a good relationship, MacDomnail. Are you certain you are not part Viking?”
Giric chuckled. Mayhap he has transformed somewhat as well. He understood the need for good bartering, but one thing both Gunnar and Saga had taught him was the importance of truthfulness and honour. These people were strong and resilient, but they were honourable to a fault.
“You will have to ask your sister if I am worthy of that title,” Giric said.
“Not yet,” Saga said with a grin. “You wouldn’t last in a fight with me, let alone one of my kin.”
Gunnar laughed again. “I am happier with this conversation than earlier, but I do have a need to release my bowels after all that meat. Where do I go?”
“In that structure right there,” he said, pointing to the shack used by the villagers.
“Inside there?”
“Aye, you will see.”
Gunnar went inside and after a time emerged with a wide-eyed look on his face. “That’s the most ingenious thing I’ve ever seen!”
Giric laughed. “Aye, in that regard we are somewhat advanced. There will be a pot in your chamber you may use throughout the night so you do not have to leave your chamber should the need arise. The servants will empty it in the morning.”
“You have people who carry away your shit?” Gunnar shook his head. “Just when I think I have you figured out.”
Put that way, Giric supposed it was a little ridiculous, but that was the way things were done. It was incredible that something as simple as waste disposal was treated so differently between the two cultures.
“Tell me why you have need of such a large home?”
“Defence more than anything. If we were attacked, we would move everyone inside the keep and could sustain ourselves for quite some time.”
“And why built out of stone?”
“To protect from the elements and fire. A wooden house would not last anywhere near as long.”
Gunnar looked up the full height of the castle. “I want to see from the tower.”
“The view is spectacular. The view runs all the way to the sea.”
They climbed the tower steps, Gunnar marvelling all the way about the shape of the stones used for the circular staircase and the window holes.
As they stood on the tower overlooking the lands beneath, Giric’s pride in his home welled within him. Aye, it was different from Gunnar’s, but no more a marvel than his upside-down ship hall. They could learn so much from one another. The thought filled him with hope and peace. He’d wanted this for so long and he was on the brink of getting it all. Aye, he’d made some errors in judgement along the way, but he was more determined than ever to make this work; to listen to what those around him were saying, especially his wife. Her intelligence and wisdom went far beyond her years and he’d been a fool to brush that aside. He thought about the women who worked at the castle and those in his family. They were not given the same amount of voice or power as was displayed by Gunnar and his clan. What a loss. Giric planned to rectify that situation within his own household. No more arrogance. He would make his home a formidable fortress from the inside out.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Saga fastened her golden brooches at her shoulders and smoothed her best green silk gown. Vigdis braided her hair and threaded fresh flowers through the braids. The king was set to arrive any time and Saga wanted to leave no one in doubt as to her heritage. If there were any in their midst who disliked her because she was Viking, they would have to deal with it. She would conform no longer.
“You look like a goddess,” Vigdis said.
