“When will they arrive?”
“This day or the next, I’m told.”
Magnus shook his head. Thor’s breath, he needed to set Gunnar straight, else there’d be nothing left of their way of life. “Can I take this now?” he said referring to the sword he still held.
“Not just yet. It needs another polishing and a name.”
Magnus could think of only one name, but he would not utter it. If the gods wanted him to have it, the blacksmith would name it true.
“I will name it Gramr,” he said.
It was a name that came with a legend. A sword that could kill a dragon was not something to be considered lightly, but Magnus would accept the honour if the blacksmith felt it was right. After all, he’d spent all the hours hammering the steel to find its essence. Gramr it was.
Magnus smiled and nodded and handed the sword back to its maker and left the armoury. A quick stop into the tannery and he was the new owner of a tight, hugging pair of leather trews. They would no doubt loosen as they broke in, but for now every curve of the entire half of his lower body was accentuated. He was thankful that his tunic would cover the more revealing areas.
When he entered the hall again, it was filled with people. An aroma met his senses to which he was not accustomed. Normally, the hall smelled of burning peat and roasting fish or meat. This scent was familiar and called to him.
Magnus moved to the dais to stand near his brother. Turning, he caught sight of shimmering green fabric. The light cast in through the open doorway, prevented him from seeing any of the faces of his guests, but he supposed they must be the Scots the blacksmith mentioned. Very well, he’d stay and hear what his brother had to say, but he would not agree to anything.
“Magnus, there you are,” Gunnar said.
“Do you remember Osgar MacAlpin from his visit a few weeks back?”
“Ja,” he said. But he did not see that man in the present company despite the difficulty in making out specific features.
“This is his brother, Kenneth MacAlpin and his sister, Lady Elspeth. This is my brother, Magnus.”
Magnus stepped down from the dais and shook Kenneth’s hand, when he turned to Elspeth, he noted her eyes were cast down. There was something that appeared like defeat in her demeanour; a frown hung on her lips—her hair was flaming red.
“Say hello to our hosts, sister,” Kenneth said.
At that point she squared her shoulders and looked directly into Magnus’ eyes. If she’d punched him in the guts he couldn’t have been more prepared for the strength resting there. “It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Magnus Haraldson.
“The pleasure is mine,” he said. Her hair truly was the colour of embers and her eyes a bright green, her skin smooth and fair. She was stunning, there was no doubt about that, but there was something else about her he couldn’t quite pinpoint. An essence hung in the air about her, as if the gods themselves approved. He then realized the scent coming from her—cloves.
“Shall we sit and talk our business?” Gunnar asked.
They sat at the long table; Magnus across from Elspeth and Kenneth across from Gunnar.
“As I was saying,” Kenneth said, “MacDomnail and your sister appear to have made a good match. And my brother, Osgar speaks highly of you and your clan.”
“And you would be interested in further aligning our families.”
“Aye, I would.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Magnus could feel Gunnar’s eyes boring into him, but he seemed incapable of pulling his gaze from Elspeth. The door opened and with it a cool breeze drifted into the hall. Magnus shook his head and looked at Gunnar. His brother’s face was drawn into a look of concern.
Magnus turned to the door to find his sister Vigdis along with Osgar MacAlpin. Elspeth turned at the same time and a heartbeat later was on her feet and in the arms of her other brother.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Osgar said to Kenneth.
“I’m taking initiative. Is that not what you suggested when last we met?” Kenneth said from over his shoulder.
He turned back to Gunnar. “My brother will take over negotiations from here.” With that he stood and made to leave.
“I thought you said you would never force anyone into these marriages,” Vigdis said to Gunnar as she approached him. She swatted his arm then embraced him.
Magnus had had enough. “What in Odin’s name is going on here?”
