and pushed away the thoughts, concentrating on the drink. Mead. From the rich honey taste he could tell it was fine mead, the sort reserved for the most honoured guests. She had known about the ale and caused the accident. He looked forward to teaching her a lesson about warriors.
‘Very fine.’
‘The barrels had become mixed. I only realised the problem when the ale spilt on the ground,’ she said in her low musical lilt.
Ivar allowed the polite lie, this time. She had realised before that. ‘I trust it will not happen again.’
‘I have solved the problem. Once solved, problems do not recur.’
He made an elaborate bow and started on the next part of the ritual, eager to see what her response would be this time. ‘Thank you for the warm welcome, daughter of the house.’
‘You should have waited and given honour to the true daughter of the house. I am merely a stepdaughter.’
‘I doubt you are merely anything.’
‘You seek to flatter.’
‘A little,’ Ivar admitted. ‘There is nothing wrong with flattery.’
‘I have little use for it,’ she said, the throatiness of the Ranrike evident in her voice. ‘I dislike game playing and banter.’
‘Do you, indeed?’ Ivar lifted his eyebrow. He looked forward to seeing her face when he revealed that he knew of the attempted insult. This woman appeared ready to give the trickster god Loki lessons in manipulation.
‘Do you have no apology for my sister, Ivar Gun-narson? Or perhaps Viken are ignorant of the age-old custom of hospitality that the first drink should be offered by the senior woman of the house?’
‘My thirst overcame me. No disrespect was intended towards your younger half-sister. It was most remiss of me, but then I have spent a great deal of my life at sea.’
Thyre lifted one delicate eyebrow. She tilted her head to one side and assessed the Viken with his strong shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist. He was arrogant and overly proud of his masculine appeal, but dangerous. He sought to bend the rules for his own ends. ‘Pretty words did not change the deed. Or the presumption.’
‘What can I do to make amends?’ Ivar bowed low again, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on her mouth. His voice slid like the finest fur over her skin. ‘What is my lady’s dearest desire?’
‘My desires have nothing to do with you.’ Thyre raised her chin and kept her gaze steady. He was a typical warrior, more intent on proving his prowess with his sword arm than observing the customs of civilisation.
‘A man dying of thirst must drink or perish. Sometimes, he takes without asking. There again, is it wrong to wish to live?’ He leant forwards and his hand skimmed her head kerchief. ‘Forgive me, but I saw this trapped in your hair. Perhaps it is a sign from the gods that you are favoured.’
He held out a small crystal pendant. The sun caught it, sending its rainbow rays arching out over the sand.
Ragnfast gave a start and his eyes took on a speculative gleam.
‘It is a pleasant bauble,’ she said, making no move to take it. ‘I am sure Dagmar will appreciate it.’
‘If it will make amends, then she must have it. All the women shall have one.’ He handed it to Dagmar, who blushed and curtsied, before signalling to one of his men who brought forwards more of the crystals, and distributed them to the other women. Thyre resolutely gave hers to Ragnfast. ‘What else can I do to regain your favour?’
‘Stay here as little time as possible. The storms can be bad this time of year.’ Thyre forced her spine to stay as straight as a newly forged sword. A few well-chosen words and trinkets and the entire household were ready to bend over backwards in their welcome. ‘Take advantage of the calm seas and go straight home.’
‘The sea and I are old friends, as our countries once were.’
‘Old friends can quarrel and become enemies.’ Her hand plucked at a fold in her skirt. She needed to end this conversation now while she still had control of the situation. ‘You can see the wreckage of another ship scattered on the shore. The sea can be unforgiving, particularly at this time of year.’
‘The sea seeks to test those who sail on her. My ship passed the test.’
‘Will it keep winning?’
‘Yes. The Sea Witch can outsail any Ranrike ship.’
‘The gods punish arrogance,’ Thyre said with crushing firmness. ‘Surely you have studied the sagas.’
‘It is not arrogance speaking, but skill. There is a difference.’
Thyre held back a quick retort. Ragnfast should be saying these things and making this insufferable man understand that he needed to depart quickly, instead of simply standing there with a speculative expression on his face, his fingers stroking the crystal. ‘Proud words for a man who presumes upon our hospitality.’
‘One who requests what is due to him and who intends to honour his obligations.’
‘There is nothing to interest you here.’ She turned towards Ragnfast and cleared her throat. Now was the moment that Ragnfast was supposed to plead poverty. They had agreed on the wording. ‘Is that not right, Ragnfast? We wish them to leave quickly. There is nothing for the Viken here. We live simply between the forest and the sea. We do not trade in ironstone.’
Ragnfast made a non-committal grunt, and gestured with his hand. ‘The Viken are welcome to repair their ship, Thyre. Long ago, their king allowed me time to repair mine. He may have the same length of time—a day and a night—but no more. You will experience the same bountiful hospitality that I was offered.’
‘Your stepfather has spoken, Thyre. Bountiful hospitality. We must abide by his wishes.’ The Viken jaarl’s eyes twinkled as he made another ironic bow.
‘Ragnfast!’ Thyre said in a furious undertone. ‘You want a proper feast? I thought…’
‘I cannot help but think that Ran sent him here for a purpose.’ Ragnfast toyed with the crystal before placing it in his pouch. ‘We shall slaughter some sheep for you, Viken, as you are clearly a favourite with the Aesir to give such crystals as welcoming gifts. You may use what you need from the estate. Do not let it be said that Ragnfast the Steadfast forgets his obligations.’
Thyre narrowed her eyes. What game was Ragnfast playing at now? If he allowed the Viken to go poking around in the outer buildings, they could discover the silver and gold she had carefully hidden. Buildings could be rebuilt given time, but the loss of the gold and silver would devastate everyone. Her hands curled into impotent fists. All Ragnfast could see was the promise of a departure gift.
‘It is more than I expected.’ Ivar Gunnarson inclined his head. ‘Where can I find the timber and various implements that I will need to repair my ship?’
‘I will help you.’ Thyre said, giving Ragnfast a meaningful glance. ‘The women have been doing cleaning, Ragnfast, and everything is not where it should be.’
Silently
