fishing and planning how to be put in charge of a felag. ‘If it means that much to you, then we will see if Blodvin needs rescuing. But if the lady wishes to be married to Hrolf Eymundsson, we leave her there and walk away. Agreed?’
Instantly, her brother’s face became wreathed in smiles. ‘I knew you’d do it. I told Auda you’d help.’
‘And, Regin, this is the last time...’
* * *
Hrolf Eymundsson watched his host and hostess from under his hooded eyes. They were hiding something from him. He could tell from the way they kept glancing at each other and then glancing at the door. ‘Is there some reason why you want the marriage to happen tomorrow?’
The sweat had beaded on Ingvar the Bloodaxe’s forehead and he signalled to his wife that he wanted his horn of ale refilling. ‘An agreed bride price and my daughter is everything you could wish for in a wife—accomplished and beautiful. Why wait?’
Hrolf inclined his head. When he’d returned from his latest felag to find Inga’s mother dead and Inga barely able to speak his language, he’d known that he had to take steps. He required a wife with land, particularly land with good access to the sea, but more than that he wanted his daughter brought up by a woman who understood what it meant to be Svear. It was why he’d returned to this land, rather than marry one of the women along the Rus trading route. As his uncle had explained many years ago, wives had a defined role and purpose. And although he had never particularly wanted to marry, it was the only way to keep his daughter and growing empire safe.
The bride price was slightly steeper than he would have wished, but Bloodaxe’s daughter had a number of suitors, according to the mother. Taking a bride from this area would demonstrate to Kettil that he was serious about their alliance—these shores would be protected from the menace that was his rival sea king, Lavrans. Unlike Lavrans, who continually demanded more tribute if he felt an ally was weak, Hrolf prided himself on honouring agreements to the best of his ability.
He had spied Blodvin looking after some children when he disembarked from his ship. She was pretty enough, with a vague look of Inga’s mother about her, and had responded to his query with a sweet smile. When he learnt her name and that she was unmarried, it seemed the Norns had blessed him. Bloodaxe and his father had been close once in the old days before his father lost his lands and his title... Hrolf gripped the drinking horn tighter.
He had righted old wrongs and paid off the debts he owed. He was now a sea king who ruled the waves. And Bloodaxe was right—what more did he want? His daughter was the correct woman to mother his Inga.
‘Blodvin is the proper sort of woman to be on a sea king and future jaarl’s arm!’ the mother said with a loud sniff. ‘I knew the Norns had a special future marked out for her.’
Hrolf took another draught of the indifferent ale. ‘Your daughter has no objections? We’ve barely spoken.’
The man and his wife exchanged quick glances.
‘Blodvin is quite shy.’ Bloodaxe slapped his chest and emitted a loud belch. ‘But she will make the ideal wife. She has spent years stocking her wedding chest. She knows all there is to know about housekeeping. Children adore her. Once she knows the match has been finalised, she’ll be more than eager to have her wedding night.’
Every sinew of his body urged caution, but there was no reason to suspect anything was amiss with the woman.
‘You, of course, know your daughter best.’
The faint sound of a creaking door caused Hrolf to stiffen. Instinctively he grasped the hilt of his knife. But neither Bloodaxe nor his wife appeared to take any notice of the sound. Hrolf forced his shoulders to relax. He’d lived for too long amongst warriors and raiders where any unusual sound could mean an enemy attack.
‘I’d like to meet your daughter formally before we finalise the agreement.’ He inclined his head. ‘For courtesy. I’m sure she is as you describe her.’
‘Get her, Wife. The time is right.’ Bloodaxe’s smile widened. ‘You’ll see that I speak the truth, Hrolf the Sea-Rider. Tomorrow night, you’ll have your bride warming your bed.’
Bloodaxe’s wife made a quick curtsy, but there was a nervous tic in her right eye. ‘Blodvin has longed for this day.’
She scurried from the room. Deciding he’d exhausted Bloodaxe’s limited range of small talk, Hrolf wandered over to the small window. In the fading light, he spied two cloaked figures entering the yard.
An owl hooted and the first figure hurried off. The other cloaked figure stood still in the shadows, listening, clearly up to no good.
Three heartbeats later, a woman’s scream echoed around the room. Hrolf drew his sword.
‘Husband! Blodvin has escaped from her room!’
‘I locked her in the barn myself after she heard about the rumoured match,’ Bloodaxe thundered. ‘This is the last time she behaves in this fashion! She will obey me.’
‘Shall I go and check the barn and see if my bride is still there?’ Hrolf enquired in a silken tone.
* * *
The gods were with her on this venture. Sayrid released the breath she’d been holding all the way from the river as the entire farm yard was bathed in silence except for the noise coming out of the barn.
Bloodaxe was utterly predictable in his hiding places. Blodvin was locked in the barn, loudly bemoaning her fate.
‘Blodvin, it’s Sayrid. Can you be quiet while I get this door open? You are making it impossible to think.’
‘Sayrid! Why are you here?’
‘Your maid delivered a message to Regin, begging for help.’ Sayrid struggled with the bolt. ‘Your prayers have been answered.’
‘My father is about to marry me off to Hrolf Eymundsson. I overheard them plotting the other night and just had time to send Tove off before he locked me up. Hrolf is nothing but a grizzled old sea king! Rescue me, please!’
Sayrid put her weight into the bolt and it shot free. She opened the door with a loud creak. ‘If you want to leave, then go and find your life.’
Blodvin rushed forward and gave Sayrid a crushing hug. ‘I’ll be your devoted follower forever, if you get me out of here unscathed. They want to marry me off before the next Storting, so Far can have the gold to pay his debts. Hrolf the Sea-Rider agreed to pay double what you were going to pay. Can you imagine?’
Sayrid stepped out of the overly familiar embrace, feeling overgrown and awkward around the much smaller woman. ‘I sent word asking for an emergency gathering of the Assembly.’
‘You’re far too good to me.’ Blodvin gave a long sigh. ‘Where is my beloved? Where is Regin?’
Sayrid stepped backwards and accidentally kicked a bucket over. Why was it that she could lead her men in battle and never put a foot wrong, but in the company of other women, she always seemed to be the one to make the mistake?
Blodvin covered her mouth as the bucket rolled.
‘We go
