Joanna Fulford - Surrender to the Viking

His younger brother nodded. ‘I was trying to catch him.’

‘I see.’

‘Did I hurt you, my lady?’ asked Yngvi.

‘No, you didn’t. You’ll be the one to get hurt if you race blindly around corners like that.’

‘Yes, my lady.’

Lara smiled. ‘Go on, get along with you.’

Needing no further urging they ran off. As she watched their receding figures she shook her head feeling fairly certain that her warning would go unheeded. At the age of six Yngvi was proving to be a natural risk-taker, and where he led Drifa would follow.

She reached the weaving shed without further interruption and resumed work on the length of blue cloth she had started a few days earlier. As she did so, her mind went back to the days when she and Alrik and Asa had played tag together; happy, carefree days, and all too short. Let Yngvi and Drifa play while they could; they’d grow up soon enough. When she was a child she’d longed to be grown up. Everything had seemed so straightforward then: she would marry and have children and keep her husband’s house. It was what all girls did. Back then it had never occurred to her to question the matter. Now she knew better. Marriage was a trap and a handsome face was no guarantee of a good heart.

For no reason Jarl Finn drifted into her mind and lingered there. Reluctantly she was forced to admit that he was an imposing figure, no easier to banish mentally than he was to brush off physically. However, putting aside the ridiculous conversation they’d had together, she had been interested in the things he’d discussed with her father. While she knew about King Halfdan’s victory at the Battle of Eid, it was the first time she’d met anyone who’d actually been present. She’d have liked to ask Finn about it. That would have been a conversation worth having. She’d have liked to ask him about the kidnapping and subsequent rescue of Lady Ragnhild too. It sounded exciting, full of action and danger. It was also the stuff of romance.

Lara caught herself there. Romance was a notion for silly young girls who didn’t know any better. Nevertheless, the king must have cared very much if he was prepared to go to such lengths to get his lady back. Clearly he wasn’t the kind of man who dealt in mealy-mouthed flattery and trumpery gifts. Ragnhild was fortunate. Such men were rare. Most were strutting, vainglorious fools with no thought in their head beyond the winning of fame. Some were cruel to boot. To them a woman was a chattel to be used and abused. Asa’s husband had been proof of that.

Her sister had been a pawn in a deeper political game, married to seal a pact with former enemies. By the sound of it Jarl Finn had enemies, powerful ones too. Hall burning was a brutal form of revenge so it was fortunate that he and his kin had been warned in time. She couldn’t wish such a fate on anyone, not even on a man as annoying as he was. Happily he wouldn’t be around for much longer: once he’d got the extra swords he needed he’d be on his way.

* * *

With that happy outcome in mind Lara found it much easier to fulfil the obligations of hospitality that evening, plying the guests with mead and ale. Given the arrival of guests with no notice she’d been forced to improvise with the meal. It wasn’t exactly a banquet but at least there was enough food to go around. As she had anticipated her father would feast his guests properly on the morrow as hospitality required.

‘I’ve organised a hunt,’ he said. ‘Some of the men will go out first thing. A roast boar wouldn’t go amiss. Maybe even some venison.’

‘Either would be good,’ she replied.

‘You see to the rest.’

‘Of course. I’ve already spoken to the servants about extra bread and ale.’

‘I’ll say one thing for you, girl, you know how to keep house and provide a good spread.’

Well, yes. It’s what I’ve been trained to do from childhood. With an effort Lara clamped down on sarcasm and smiled instead. ‘Thank you, Father.’

He regarded her suspiciously, suspecting irony, but her expression was innocent so he grunted and held out his cup. She refilled it.

‘You should be putting those skills to use in your husband’s hall,’ he went on. ‘That’s the role you were intended for.’

‘In the meantime I am happy to practise here,’ she replied.

He snorted and turned away. Lara moved on.

‘Your father is right,’ said Finn as he held out his cup for a refill.

‘About what?’ she demanded.

‘The meal was excellent.’

The jug hovered a moment and she looked up quickly, undeceived by the bland tone. It wasn’t what he had meant at all but it was safer if she pretended to believe him. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it, my lord.’

‘Clearly you are a good organiser.’

‘Women are trained to be good organisers.’

‘I suppose they are. Even so, twenty extra mouths to feed is quite a task.’

This was a first. ‘Men don’t usually consider such things. They seem to assume that food will magically appear at the given time. Then they eat and think no more of it until the next meal is due.’

He laughed. ‘There is some justice in what you say, although, having been responsible for a ship’s crew, I have learned about the importance of provisions.’

Her surprise increased. Not a complete fool, then. ‘Yes, I imagine you have.’

‘I enjoy my food as much as the next man. Besides, a well-fed crew complains less.’

‘So the way to their hearts really is through their stomachs.’

‘Battle loot plays its part as well.’

Lara’s expression altered. This was more like it. Now she had the opening she’d been hoping for. ‘You were at Eid, weren’t you?’

‘That’s right. How did you know?’

‘I heard you speaking to my father.’

His eyes gleamed. ‘Were you eavesdropping?’

‘Of course. It was an interesting conversation.’

She looked quite unabashed by the admission. Finn’s lips twitched. ‘Battle might be deemed an unfit topic for the ears of a woman.’

‘Why should it?’

‘Because it’s brutal and bloody. A pretty woman should think of other things.’

She sighed. ‘Like necklaces of amber beads and gold brooches perhaps? Or maybe flirtation and romance?’

‘Isn’t that what young women usually think about?’

Lara was silent, wrestling with irritation and disappointment. For a moment she’d really thought he might be different from the others. She looked away. ‘Excuse me for asking an inappropriate question. It’s just that I was hoping for an intelligent answer. I should have known better.’

* * *

As Finn watched her walk off, he uttered a soft laugh that was compounded of disbelief and annoyance, the latter directed inwards. He hadn’t missed the sudden eagerness in her eyes when she asked him about Eid. If he hadn’t antagonised her, she might have let down her guard and they could have had a lively and interesting discussion. Instead he’d spoken without thinking and the barriers had come up at once. He was the one who should have known better. Had experience taught him nothing?

‘Pretty girl,’ said Unnr.

Finn glanced up and nodded. ‘As you say.’

‘Difficult, though. Redheads always are.’

‘So I’m told.’ Difficult was an understatement, thought Finn. Volatile was closer to the truth. When that was allied to a keen intelligence and a ready wit, it made for a challenging combination. Challenging and intriguing.

‘Take a bold man to tame that one,’ Unnr went on. ‘My oldest brother, Sveinn, married a redhead. Lovely to look at but a temper like a fiend when roused.’

Sturla frowned. ‘Regretted the match, did he?’

‘Certainly not. Sveinn loves a challenge—always did. A timid sort of woman would never have suited him.’