‘What in the name of Tyr One-Hand is he doing here?’
Finn’s voice roused him from his reverie and he followed his brother’s gaze across the hall. Seeing Jarl Einar, he frowned. The jarl’s estates in Vingulmark might be close to Leif’s own lands, but that was the sole extent of their neighbourliness. While there hadn’t been open hostility as such, it was well known that many of Einar’s associates were connected with the royal house of Vingulmark. The defeat at Eid must have come as a blow. He could not have foreseen that, or the subsequent turn of events, when he placed his niece with Sigurd Hjort and his family all those years ago.
‘Good question,’ he replied.
‘I doubt it bodes any good.’
‘He won’t start any trouble here, be assured of that.’
‘All the same,’ said Finn, ‘he’s not a man I’d choose to turn my back on.’
‘You were wise not to,’ replied Erik. ‘All the same, Leif is in the right of it. Einar isn’t here to cause trouble. He’s come to fetch his niece.’
‘Fetch her where?’
‘Back to Vingulmark. Seems she’s to be married.’
Leif was suddenly still. ‘Married?’
Erik nodded. ‘That’s right.’
‘How would you know?’ demanded Finn.
‘Ingolf heard some of Einar’s men talking.’
Finn glanced at Leif. ‘It looks as if your hopes there are dashed, then.’
Leif casually reached for his cup. ‘It does rather, doesn’t it?’
‘Never mind. Plenty more shingles on the roof, eh?’
‘As you say.’
Erik eyed him speculatively. ‘Fancied her yourself, did you?’
It was an understatement, but Leif wasn’t about to confide the fact. Instead he shrugged. ‘You win some, you lose some.’
‘True enough. Besides, Finn’s right. The world is full of pretty women.’
Finn smiled. ‘Do you remember that redhead in Alfheim who...?’
Leif barely heard him, his mind still trying to assimilate what he’d just heard. He hadn’t seen that coming. Nor would he have anticipated his own reaction. He had hoped to have more time to achieve his goal; that Astrid might somehow be persuaded. Not only was he out of time, but the goal was unattainable as well. It engendered a series of unwonted emotions. He smiled in self-mockery. He’d lost. It happened. He just hadn’t expected it to matter quite as much.
* * *
The following morning Astrid left with her uncle and his retinue. Leave-taking had been hard, particularly from Ragnhild.
‘I shall miss you, Astrid.’
‘And I you, my lady.’
The queen embraced her and, lowering her voice, murmured, ‘If ever you need me you know where I am. Don’t forget that.’
‘I won’t forget.’
Ragnhild stepped back and smiled. ‘I wish you a safe journey. May the gods be with you.’
With that the departing group left the hall. Outside, in a cool grey dawn, the horses were saddled and waiting. With a heavy heart Astrid mounted and, having settled herself in the saddle, looked around her, committing the scene to memory, certain that she would never see this place or her friend again. It was then she saw Leif. He was some yards off with a group of other casual bystanders. For a brief interval the blue-grey gaze met hers and she saw him incline his head in acknowledgement. Her present resentment was displaced by sadness and a strange and fleeting sense of loss. Summoning up the shreds of self-control, she replied with a like greeting. The courtesy didn’t pass unnoticed.
‘What is your interest there?’
Astrid started, hearing her uncle’s voice and then annoyance temporarily superseded sadness. She controlled it.
‘I have no interest there. I did but acknowledge an acquaintance.’
It was a lie on both counts, she realised. However, it seemed to satisfy her uncle. He grunted and turned his horse’s head.
‘Come. It’s time to go.’
With that the cavalcade rode away.
Leif watched them go, his face impassive. The men beside him followed suit.
‘Seems like everyone’s leaving all of a sudden,’ said Harek.
Bjarni grinned. ‘The fighting’s over. The feasting’s over. There’s not much to stay for, is there?’
Leif silently endorsed the point, though for rather different reasons. Harek eyed him quizzically.
‘So, what now, my lord?’
‘We leave for Vingulmark,’ replied Leif.
‘Right. When?’
‘As soon as we’ve collected our gear. Tell the others.’
As they took themselves off to do his bidding, Leif lingered a few moments more. The riders were almost out of sight now. He permitted himself a wry smile and then turned away. Bjarni was right: it was over. Now it was time to move on.
Chapter Four
Astrid recalled little of that journey afterwards, only the increasing sense of isolation and dread of the future. Along with that was anger. Was it wrong to want to control her destiny instead of being used in the furtherance of political ambition? Was it wrong to resent being used as a brood mare by a total stranger? Jarl Gulbrand’s reputation and that of his kin did nothing to allay her doubts.
The only bright spot in the gloom was Dalla. The servant woman had looked after her when first she was brought to her uncle’s hall six years earlier, prior to her attendance on Ragnhild, and was the only person to have shown her any kindness there. Apart from the addition of a few more wrinkles, Dalla was unchanged, greeting Astrid with unfeigned pleasure and helping her settle in.
‘I know you’ll not be with us long, my lady.’
‘No, not long,’ replied Astrid. ‘More’s the pity.’
Dalla eyed her shrewdly. ‘Well, I trust we can make you comfortable while you are here.’
‘I’m sure of it and I’m so glad to see you.’
‘And I you, my lady. Who’d have thought it, eh?’
‘Who indeed?’
‘I felt certain that Lady...forgive me...Queen Ragnhild would have found a handsome husband for you by now.’
For no good reason Leif came to mind, the memory vivid and disturbing. Astrid sighed. ‘Unfortunately the queen is not my guardian.’
‘I’m sure there was no lack of willing suitors. You’ve grown to be a beauty and no mistake.’
‘Much good may it do me.’
‘There now. All may yet be well.’
Astrid wished she could share that optimism.
* * *
As Leif had anticipated there was much to occupy him on his arrival in Vingulmark, starting with a thorough shake-up of the existing regime. In the absence of a controlling hand the steward