was a woman with her who ran off, but it was dark and I could not see her face. Later Sayrid went to the river and I lost her. These are the only people I encountered before Ingvar Bloodaxe arrived. I swear this on my sacred honour.’
Bloodaxe started bleating and whining about how it had to have been Regin, but the jaarl’s face grew ever more stern. Sayrid’s shoulders relaxed. Hrolf had told the truth. Regin was safe. And Bloodaxe would not start a feud with her.
‘If Regin Avilson did not capture your daughter and she ran away of her own accord, you’re not entitled to a fine,’ the jaarl pronounced. ‘Who among you believes that Blodvin Ingvardottar ran away of her own accord?’
Everyone except for Bloodaxe and his closest companions raised their hand.
‘Your request for compensation is denied, Bloodaxe.’
Bloodaxe stroked his chin. ‘As my daughter has run away, she is dead to me. I shouldn’t have to provide a dowry for her.’
‘She has married Regin Avilson. There was a prior agreement that they would wed and the bride price was paid,’ Sayrid argued. ‘The dowry includes all of the next bay.’
‘Why would anyone pay a dowry for a dead woman?’ Bloodaxe said as his wife sniffled noisily next to him. ‘My daughter ceased to exist the instant she decided to run. And her maid has been dealt with.’
Sayrid clenched her fists and concentrated on breathing steadily. Silently she promised to have the maid found and brought to her hall. She longed to draw her sword and start the feud for real, but if she did, she’d be made into an outlaw and all her lands would be forfeit. Some day she’d make him pay for the insult. ‘If that is the way you wish it. I would ask that Ingvar Bloodaxe pays me passage for the wool sacks my ships carried this summer as part of the bride price. Who would pay a bride price for a dead woman?’
The jaarl nodded. ‘A fair request. You will do this by the next Assembly, Ingvar. The matter is now closed and justice has been done.’
Bloodaxe muttered under his breath.
Sayrid raised her chin and carefully kept her face blank. Smug satisfaction would only rub salt into the wounds. Bloodaxe knew he’d lost. But the old miser would take his own sweet time in paying the amount owed. She’d be willing to wager gold on that.
Time to start making friends. Creating enemies benefited no one. She’d won. Regin was safe. She only hoped Blodvin was worth it.
‘I would like to invite everyone to a feast to celebrate my brother’s marriage to Blodvin the Fatherless.’
A loud cheering broke out in the hall, even amongst Bloodaxe’s supporters. Sayrid carefully schooled her features. Her instinct was correct. Everyone loved a marriage feast.
* * *
‘A word, Kettil, before the feasting begins.’ Hrolf prevented the elderly jaarl from rising as the hall cleared.
‘Your well-timed intervention prevented a bloody feud between two powerful families in this district.’ The older man inclined his head. ‘I salute your wisdom.’
‘I told the truth.’ Hrolf gave Kettil a hard look. ‘Something you should have done when I first enquired about Bloodaxe’s daughter. You encouraged me in the match when the woman was clearly besotted with another.’
‘Until a woman is married...’ Kettil waved a vague hand. ‘It can be, Sea-Rider, that maintaining peace is far harder than simply leading a felag. I was aware of the complications of the match, but not the depth of feeling between the pair. Young Regin is far from the sort of warrior I’d have chosen for my daughter if I had been blessed with a child instead of being cursed to love barren women.’
‘Is that so?’
‘After her father’s death, Sayrid promised he would become a good warrior, but I see little evidence of it.’
‘My problem remains. I desire a wife and land with a bay to keep my ships.’
‘You will have to seek her elsewhere.’
‘And the Shield Maiden? What is her dowry? Avil Ironfist was a considerable landholder.’
Kettil gave a short laugh. ‘Seek elsewhere. The maiden does not require a husband. She assures me of this every time she returns from one of her voyages. And she’d make a terrible wife. I doubt she knows one end of a loom from the other.’
‘How hard can it be to defeat a woman?’ Bragi asked. ‘Who has she fought in defence of her property? A few old men and beardless boys? If you won’t challenge for that prize, old friend, I will take the honour.’
‘Leave it, Bragi. Some things make poor jests.’
‘Do not think you are the first to covet Ironfist’s lands. She holds them well.’ Kettil raised a brow. ‘Sayrid is perhaps the best fighter I’ve seen. She’s quick and has a brain which is more than can be said for many warriors.’
Hrolf ground his teeth. The jaarl appeared to think that he was a green boy just returned from his first voyage, not a grown man who had spent years honing his battle skills. ‘Which goes to show that they are worth fighting for.’
Kettil clapped him on the back. ‘A solution will present itself. For now I will enjoy the time we spend together before you go in search of the land you seek. In time our mutual enemy Lavrans will be defeated but, I think, far from these shores.’
Hrolf schooled his features. Kettil had always intended this outcome. But he was disinclined to walk away from a challenge, particularly when the prize was attractive as Sayrid Avildottar.
* * *
Sayrid breathed in the still evening air. She twisted first one way, then the other, attempting to loosen the tight muscles in her back. The sounds of the feast echoed out on to the quiet street. The skald started the first verse of the saga of ‘The Sword Tryfling and the Shield Maiden’. It was apparently one of Blodvin’s favourites, but Sayrid hated everything about it. Shield maidens never found true love except in stories.
It had been a spectacular feast, despite Bloodaxe’s and his wife’s non-attendance. Although there had been the usual niggles of people objecting to the seating arrangements and several questioning the quality of the ale, by and large the meal had passed without incident. She wished that the feeling of foreboding would go and that she could relax.
A movement in the shadows made her start. She crouched, instinctively reaching for her knife. ‘Who skulks in the shadows? Show yourself!’
‘I do my best thinking in the shadows.’ Hrolf stepped forward. The torchlight picked out the planes in his face and the curve of his bottom lip. ‘You should be in there, toasting the happy couple, listening to the skalds and basking in the glory. Your impassioned plea for the lovers carried the day, Sayrid.’
Now was not the time to explain that such gatherings always unnerved her. Everyone always seemed to stare at just the time she knocked over the ale or laughed too loudly or accidentally banged her fist on the table. ‘Regin and Blodvin are fully capable of enjoying it without me.’
‘And what do you plan to do next?’
‘Fish,
