‘Blodvin thinks she might be pregnant.’
Sayrid froze. ‘Yours?’
Regin went pink about his ears and he gave a slow nod. ‘Three months ago at the summer festival. It was the only time, I swear it, but she was so sweet in my arms.’
‘Blodvin’s father is a snake and not to be trusted, which is why you should have exercised restraint,’ she said between gritted teeth before Regin could give her the intimate details. ‘Wait, I said. Wait until you were safely married because of the possibilities of complications. Did I have to spell out what those complications were?’
‘Blodvin expects me to face down Hrolf and claim her and the babe.’ A nervous tic began in Regin’s right eye as it always did when he contemplated fighting. ‘Or I’m not the warrior she thought I was. She wants me to do it when they marry.’
‘Marching into a wedding and snatching the bride will cause a major feud, assuming you even get out alive. I forbid it.’ Sayrid concentrated on breathing. That woman would get her brother killed or, worse, start a feud which lasted generations. ‘Why wait until I was fishing to tell me?’
Regin hung his head. His blond curls fell forward, hiding his face. Unlike Sayrid, who took after their tall, strong father, Regin took after his mother and was far shorter. Their father used to say he’d been doubly cursed—his eldest daughter was taller than most men and his only son prettier than most women.
‘The message arrived this morning.’ The sunlight streamed on Regin, giving him a halo of golden curls. ‘Blodvin makes me feel like I have the strength of ten men.’
‘Blodvin can send the child here when it is time. I would never turn one of your children away.’ She held out her hands and willed her brother to take them. She knew her words were harsh, but the last thing she wanted was for her brother to be declared outlaw or worse over a flighty woman. ‘In time, you will see that this was the best course. The Norns will have a different woman in mind for you.’
Regin turned his head away. ‘There won’t be other women for me. I love Blodvin with all my heart.’
‘So speak all lovers until they meet the next woman.’ She waited for Regin’s sheepish smile.
His eyes burnt with a bright flame. ‘It’s only because you’ve never been in love that you make jokes.’
‘Me in love? Gods forbid. I have a household to run and hungry mouths to feed.’ Love was something that happened to women who didn’t tower over all the men and who knew how to dance prettily and pour the drink with the right amount of simpering deference. Her father’s scorn for once had held a ring of truth.
‘Some day, Sayrid, you will know what it is like to have your heart ripped out.’
‘I’m a shield maiden. First and foremost. I won’t marry unless the man can defeat me in combat. The jaarl agreed to my pledge.’ Sayrid made a practice throw of her fishing spear. She’d turned her father’s cruel jest around and had made it a virtue. ‘Don’t distract me with discussions about my future. What do you intend to do, if you won’t challenge Hrolf for the fair Blodvin’s hand? Sail east?’
The pleading expression on Regin’s face became truly heartbreaking. ‘This is also an insult to the family. Bloodaxe will say he broke the agreement because...’
‘Because I am unnatural and lead this house with my sword arm. Should I be sticking to my spinning and weaving, and wringing my hands when we lose everything to some arrogant sea king who sails into the harbour demanding tribute?’ Sayrid finished before Regin had a chance to say the words. ‘Because I am talented at the arts of war instead of those of love?’
‘Going Viking isn’t what women do.’ Regin coughed. ‘You have to admit my mother had a point.’
White-hot anger flashed through Sayrid. She had rejoiced the day her stepmother had remarried and moved more than a week’s march to the south, taking her poisonous tongue with her. ‘Funny how that excuse springs so readily to people’s lips. They like to forget the trade and wealth our ships bring.’
Regin drew a line with his foot. ‘Her father disapproves of you, but I don’t. That is not what I was going to say. He will claim it is because I delayed the marriage and he worried about the agreed price being paid. If we had done as he wanted, I would have married at jul.’
‘His wool sacks were light and I won’t pay good gold for less than the full measure. A man who will cheat on such things, will cheat on his daughter’s dowry.’ Sayrid put her hands on Regin’s shoulders and looked down at his watering eyes. ‘We delayed the marriage because Bloodaxe had difficulties with the dowry and Blodvin wanted to have her dress properly embroidered. Not because of anything we did wrong. The jaarl knows the truth.’ She paused. ‘It is something to unsettle you so that we will accept a lower dowry.’
Regin slammed his fists together. ‘I will marry Blodvin with or without your help...or die trying.’
Sayrid pretended to fiddle with the fishing spear. ‘After I’ve forbidden it?’
Her brother’s face took on his stubborn look. ‘I’ll go anyway.’
‘I won’t rescue you.’
His face fell. ‘Maybe this time I won’t need rescuing.’
A brief laugh escaped her throat. ‘Regin! Think!’
‘I love her, Say. I can’t stand aside and let her be married to someone like Hrolf Eymundsson.’
Sayrid mentally said goodbye to a quiet few weeks 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