The Viking's Captive Princess. Michelle Styles
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‘Did anything untoward happen in the ceremony while I was away getting the mead, Dagmar?’ Thyre asked before Dagmar even had a chance to sit down on the kitchen bench. ‘Your father appeared distinctly uncomfortable when I returned with the horn of mead and he has gone to make another sacrifice to the gods. We had an agreement about what was to happen, and he broke it.’
‘If Sven had been here, he would have made sure Far held firm. Why did Far offer so much hospitality? Why not fight? They are not that many.’
Thyre held her tongue. Dagmar’s ideas about strategy were never particularly well thought out. This Viken warrior needed to be handled carefully.
‘What else happened, Dagmar?’ Thyre asked.
‘There was some boring old story that one of the Viken tried to recite, but that was all.’ Dagmar made a wry face. ‘You know Far, he sees the boat and thinks of gold and spices. Far is too greedy and short sighted, Sven says.’
‘And the leader, Ivar?’ Thyre kept her gaze on the kitchen fire, aware that her cheeks suddenly burnt. ‘How did he react?’
‘He acted quickly to calm the situation and Far was mollified.’ Dagmar wet her lips and smoothed her skirt. ‘His scar bothers me. To twist his mouth like that. How do you think he acquired it? It looks far too jagged to be a sword mark. But if you don’t see the scar, the rest of him is more than pleasant.’
Thyre stopped the words about Ivar Gunnarson’s broad shoulders and bulging arm muscles just before they tumbled out. The last thing she wanted was Dagmar teasing her about a fancy for a Viken warrior after she’d proclaimed her loathing of them for so many years. ‘As long as I see the back of him tomorrow, all will be well.’
‘You are right, Thyre. His back is by far the best view. A woman could feast on those shoulders.’ Dagmar smacked her lips.
‘Dagmar!’ Thyre put her hands on her hips, but Dagmar looked unrepentant.
‘I prefer a fine face and a gentle manner, so you may have no fears on that score. The Viken jaarl is all yours, if you want him.’
Thyre moved a bowl of cracked barley and took back charge of the conversation. ‘We need to have some other plan, in case the Viken jaarl has another motive. In case he decides to stay beyond the day and a night that he agreed with Ragnfast. This Viken warrior possesses a brain.’
Dagmar raised an eyebrow. ‘You and your plots. You should just allow things to happen.’
Thyre began to pace the floor, hating this feeling of helplessness. ‘The bonfire could be lit. We could send a signal to Sigmund. He promised that if ever we needed help, he would send warriors.’
‘Far would never allow it. It would give the jaarl Sigmund far too much power here. Besides, Sigmund would never reach here in time…and you know what Hilde said about how he hurt her and some of the other maids when he was last here.’
‘The jaarl Sigmund deserves to know that his ship washed up on these shores. If the Viken outstays his welcome, then he should face Ranrike’s mightiest jaarl.’
‘But who will light the fire? Who will face my father’s wrath?’
‘I will. I will take the responsibility.’ Thyre put back her shoulders. It had to be done and no one else could do it. ‘I refuse to stand by and let the Viken win.’
‘You do not even know if they will do anything. The Viken might be honest. He certainly is generous. Or seeking some other excuse?’ Dagmar held up her hand. ‘I too heard what Sigmund said to Far the last time he was here, but Far refused to believe him. He might not like Vikens, but he respects them. And he has beaten them before. He brought our mother back to Ranrike.’
‘That was a long time ago,’ Thyre said, shifting uncomfortably. ‘Ragnfast’s courage was well known—steadfast in heart and with his arm. Mor never said anything against him, but I think she would have wanted to keep this farm safe, whatever the cost.’
‘I miss her even though she has been dead for years and years. Sometimes, I can’t really remember her face or her voice. But I do know you take after her far more than I do.’
Thyre reached out her hand and Dagmar’s fingers instantly curled around it.
‘All I know is that I have to try, Dagmar. I will go to the second bonfire and light that one. After the Viken have gone, I will confess to Ragnfast. He will understand my reasoning.’ Thyre paused. ‘It was what Mother would have done—confessed after the fact. It is what she would want us to do.’
‘I hope you are right.’
‘It has to be done. A day and a night are all we have left.’ Thyre raised their clasped hands. ‘We do this in the Swan Princess’s memory. The Viken warriors will not abuse our hospitality. We will prevail and the estate will be safe.’
Chapter Three
‘The bonfire is lit and I saw the answering fire on the other side of the valley,’ Thyre announced to Dagmar on her return. It had taken less time than she had imagined to light the second beacon. Now her being was filled with a quiet exhilaration. How dare he make such statements about women? And look at her with such an arrogant stare? This Viken would learn that she was not to be trifled with. ‘Has there been any trouble?’
‘Nothing other than Hilde spilling the milk as she made eyes at one of the warriors.’
‘Hilde always makes eyes at every warrior,’ Thyre said with a laugh. ‘She thinks the bigger the muscles, the more desirable they are.’
But rather than answering with another comment about Hilde, Dagmar gave a huge sigh and started to wring her hands.
‘Out with it, Dagmar. What have the Viken done?’
‘While I supervised the lighting of the fire in the bathing hut, I kept thinking about what you said earlier. About Mother and how she would want us to do something to protect the estate.’ Dagmar gave a decided nod. ‘Do you mind if I go and look for Sven?’
‘He will not be back yet, Dagmar. He has been away only a few weeks. Is this truly necessary?’ Thyre gestured towards where the table groaned with grain and vegetables. ‘Much remains to be done. I need you here to help me with the cooking.’
‘It seems like for ever since he left.’ Dagmar gave a dramatic sigh. ‘The feast is well in hand. It only looks like a lot of work, but the grain is mostly ground and the turnips are peeled. Then once the cooking starts you will say it is easier if you do it yourself. You always do and the feast always arrives on time. I am doing you a favour. Besides, if Sven has returned, he will be able to rally the foresters to Ragnfast’s standard should the need arise. If you can do something brave by lighting the bonfire, I can do something as well.’
Thyre gritted her teeth. Ever since he had gone, Dagmar had made the daily trek up to the top of the hill to see if she could spy Sven’s horse. After offering to go with her several times and Dagmar finding threadbare excuses why she did not want company, Thyre had stopped bothering. Ever since the advent of Sven, they had drifted apart a little. Dagmar was always keeping little things from her, inconsequential things, but it hurt all the same.
It would be easier in many ways if she just let Dagmar go. At least the sobbing into her pillow at night had stopped. Thyre wished that Dagmar had waited until she was safely married before falling in love. She could not see a happy outcome to this. Ragnfast would never accept the man. He wanted a man with a fortune and a strong sword arm to defend this estate for his daughter. But she would find a way through the tangle after the Viken left.
‘You might be right. A few more men at the feast might help keep fights from starting. Be quick about it, then.’
‘I will be.’ Dagmar gave Thyre a quick kiss on her cheek.
‘You will have to tell your father about Sven some time, Dagmar. He deserves to know. Would you like to practise