Magnus sat back and considered what Olaf said. What he suggested was closer to tyranny and under those circumstances, neither Magnus nor Gunnar would be willing conformists.
“To be very clear,” Gunnar said quietly, enough for Magnus’ ears to perk up, “we are here to forge an alliance, not pledge fealty. That honour belongs to King Harald and him alone.”
“I respect your current allegiances and assure you they will not interfere with the business we conduct this day.”
A guard came toward them and whispered something in Olaf’s ear. He nodded and motioned someone forward from the door.
“Now please enjoy the rest of your meal. I have other business to attend.”
With that, he stood and walked toward the large chair at the head of the hall. On the other side of the fire-pit, a black cloaked figure and a man walked toward Olaf and bowed low. The hair stood at the back of Magnus’s neck again and he stared, willing a lock of hair to tumble loose.
“Magnus, did you hear me?”
He shook his head and turned to look at his brother. “We will return to the ship and make sail for Islay. We have come to do what we said we would and there’s no further reason for us to stay.”
“Ja, let’s go,” Magnus said and followed his brother outside where the sun shone brightly making him squint at the guard who directed them toward the gatehouse.
When they reached the last gate and had donned their weapons again Magnus placed his hand on Gunnar’s shoulder. “Did you not find that place odd and unsettling?”
Gunnar shook his head. “That place has a great deal of history to atone for and Olaf is dabbling in dangerous methods to settle them.”
“Do you mean, magic?”
“Of sorts. Olaf has been looking for a seer for a long time. Freydis has begged me not to let anyone outside the village know of her gifts for fear of being summoned.”
“You would never let them take her, Gunnar. They have no jurisdiction over us.”
“They do not, which is why I would be more comfortable if she returned to Islay.”
Magnus grinned. “Then you will have to give her reason to return.”
Gunnar said nothing as they meandered through the stench and filth toward the ship. Magnus had to seriously question what he would do were it his family who was starving—align with a man who may not hold morals in high value, or let his family rot. There was no easy answer to that one.
CHAPTER TWO
Magnus threw open the doors to the great hall and squinted into the sunlight. He grabbed an axe resting nearby and swung it wide above his head. Damned Gunnar. His sister Saga may have been conned into a marriage with a Scot, but he would not bend so easily. He should have known better than to trust the man’s avoidance of the subject on their trip to Dublin.
Since their return, Gunnar had been hounding him constantly. He’d started by forcing Magnus to return the raided items to Snorri Short-Beard on the other side of the island.Own up to the consequences of your actions, he’d said. Each day Gunnar seemed more and more determined to find ways to irritate him and now he was bent of having discussions surrounding marriage. With everything else looming regarding King Olaf and the Scottish and English kings, Magnus didn’t know where Gunnar still found the time to play matchmaker. Thor’s breath, the man could be infuriating!
Magnus made his way to the wharf where various longships and shorter galleys were moored. He spied the one he wanted and hopped onboard. He needed to feel the sea spray on his face to help quell his irritation, nay, it was borderline rage.
“Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise,” a sultry voice said from behind him.
Yrsa. Odin’s teeth, he was not in the mood for her today. While she pursued him relentlessly, he’d been clear he was not interested.
“What do you want, Yrsa?”
“I heard you are getting married.”
“I am not.”
“That’s not what I hear. Rumour is that you’re going off to marry one of the fine ladies on the mainland and they will have you fitted into their fancy clothes before month’s end.”
“Yrsa, I am in no mood for your teasing or your mischief this day.”
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere, it would appear.” The galley was moored close to one of the longships and the high seas from the previous night had jammed them just tight enough to prevent him from setting this one loose.
