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 now.’ Sayrid gripped Blodvin’s arm. ‘Regin waits on the river for you. He has a rowboat and will get you to our ship. I’ll take care of any problems.’
Blodvin tried to peer around Sayrid. ‘But Regin is with you? My beloved who pledged his life to me?’
Sayrid fought against the urge to be sick. She had forgotten how sickly sweet Blodvin was. Love was truly a condition she never wanted to suffer from.
‘Regin loves you,’ she said roughly. ‘But I’ll not have his hide nailed to the barn door.’
Blodvin nibbled her bottom lip. ‘I wanted my future husband to rescue me.’
‘Either you come with me and be Regin’s wife or I leave you here.’
‘I’ll come! I want to!’ Blodwin linked her arm with Sayrid’s. ‘We’ll be sisters and it doesn’t matter what anyone says about you. You’re saving me from a fate far worse than death.’
Sayrid hooted like an owl. Instantly Regin returned the call. The tightness in Sayrid’s shoulders eased. Everything was going to plan. ‘There is Regin’s signal. He waits for you.’
They had rounded the corner when a woman’s scream rent the air. Blodvin froze.
‘They’ve discovered I’ve gone! We’re doomed.’
‘Run, Blodvin, run!’ Sayrid grabbed the woman’s arm and started to pull her along. ‘Now is not the time to have second thoughts.’
‘But they’ll catch us.’
‘Not if I’ve anything to do with it. Go to the river. Tell Regin to cast off. I can swim.’
Sayrid shoved Blodvin forward, drew her sword and started to retreat. Each backward step was another victory. With any luck, Bloodaxe would not think to look in the river until it was far too late.
The sound of heavy footsteps caused her to freeze.
‘Who goes there?’ a commanding voice called out.
‘A stranger going about her business.’ Sayrid winced. She should have just said nothing, but she had to give Blodvin time to reach the river and safety. And she was willing to bet that at any more than the slightest hint of trouble, Blodvin would collapse in a heap. ‘What is it to you?’
In the dull light, an unfamiliar Northman stepped forward. His blue eyes gleamed. Hrolf Eymundsson, perhaps, or one of his men? He was far too well dressed to be one of Bloodaxe’s servants.
‘You have taken something which does not belong to you.’
Sayrid shook her head to clear it. Now was not the time to notice his broad shoulders or the way his light brown hair flowed. Or that his height was equal to hers. Or to wonder about his name. Now was the time to save her life and to get out of there without encountering Ingvar the Bloodaxe.
‘Why would I have done that? I’ve every respect for those who dwell here.’
‘A mystery to me, but here you are on this