Paying the Viking's Price. Michelle Styles
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know how things are done where you come from, but here in Northumbria we do ask for more proof than a double axe and a broken door.’
She stared defiantly at the Norseman, trying not to notice his axe and the way he fingered the hilt. One stroke and her head would be rolling across the floor, like the rumours said the Norsemen had done to so many other people.
Her heart pounded in her ears as she waited for the Norseman to respond.
A rumble of laughter resounded behind the Norseman, breaking the silence.
‘She has spirit, this Northumbrian lady, I’ll give her that,’ one of them called out. ‘There are not many who would stand before Brand Bjornson and argue.’
‘Maybe they should,’ Edith answered as steadily as she could even as her legs threatened to crumple under her.
Her luck had truly run out. Brand Bjornson claimed her land. He was reputed to be one of the fiercest Norseman warriors, a name that nurses whispered to frighten children. She waited, hardly daring to breathe. Her next heartbeat was sure to be her last, once he lifted that axe.
The Norseman regarded her with those fierce eyes, unmoving but speculative. She forced her gaze to match his.
His hand loosened on the axe and his shoulders relaxed. Edith released a breath. She was going to live. The thought filled her with giddy excitement.
‘I regret, my lady, but you’re wrong. This hall and land belongs to me.’ He reached into his belt and pulled out a piece of vellum. ‘The king did anticipate that some may be prepared to doubt my word. Everything is in order. His seal is set with the date. Call for your priest to read it out loud.’
‘There is no need. My father ensured I could read.’ At his questioning glance, she added, ‘He’d little love for our priest.’
‘Wise man.’
Edith stared at the parchment. The words swam before her eyes. All of Egbert’s lands were forfeit to Brand Bjornson, including the hall and its property. They were specifically named, but it was a general proclamation. The king hadn’t even bothered to address her. She truly meant nothing to him.
Tears stung at the back of her throat. Everything gone, just like that. She wished she could wring Egbert’s fat neck. Her father had been wrong for so many reasons when he forced the marriage because he’d thought she needed a strong warrior. She could have held the lands on her own.
‘You may have the estate, but will you have the hearts of its people? I have never seen a Viking warrior stay in one place for long. Undoubtedly your king will have call for your services,’ Edith said before she could give herself time to think and be scared. ‘After seeing your parchment, I’m happy to pay a reasonable tithe to you and promise to keep good order. I know these people and this land.’
‘And you have their hearts, now that their menfolk are dead? You can guarantee that they will no longer rebel against Halfdan or his chosen successors?’
‘I like to think so.’ Edith tilted her chin upwards. ‘My family has cared for this land since before the Romans left. The folk here are honest and loyal. Those who rebelled left with my late husband. Never to return.’
A sardonic smile crossed his lips. ‘I find a full belly guarantees loyalty far more than blood or tradition.’
A snigger came from the ranks of the Vikings. ‘What sort of man obeys a woman?’
Edith clenched her jaw and ignored the remark which reminded her of Egbert’s attitude. She had proved him wrong and, given half a chance, she’d prove the unknown Viking wrong as well.
She motioned for her servants to be still.
Where else could she go? Some convent? To work like a thrall? It was what would happen to her if she appeared without any money. Goodness knew Egbert had threatened it often enough. Death by a Norseman’s axe was preferable to death by slow starvation. She had one last chance.
‘You must give me a chance to prove my words. I could be useful here. You are a warrior. Do you know how to run a large estate? I do. Put me to the test!’
Chapter Two
Edith waited as her plea echoed around the hall. Her entire life hung in the balance.
‘There is no need for someone else to run it. I shall be here.’ Brand Bjornson’s lips quirked upwards as if she amused him. A loud laugh escaped his throat, swiftly followed by the other warriors’ laughter.
Edith frowned. Amusement was precisely the wrong reaction. ‘My offer is serious.’
‘My days of fighting are at an end. My king has another use for me. For too long this part of the North Riding has harboured a nest of vipers. It is my task to ensure peace. With force if necessary, Lady. I’ll allow you safe passage to the nearest nunnery as a token of the loyalty you and your father showed my king.’
‘And you know everything there is to know about this hall and its farms? How to run it most efficiently?’
The blue in his eyes deepened. ‘From what I have seen, it will not be hard to run it better...unless there is some reason to think differently.’
Edith winced. He knew about her deception and was giving her the opportunity to confess. The Norseman was sharper than he first appeared.
‘My father trained me after my brothers died in infancy. I served first as his steward and then my late husband’s.’
‘Then they were both fools. This hall and its farms look miserable. A child could run them better.’ Brand Bjornson waved an impatient hand. ‘Save the stories for the children, Lady Edith. I’m in a generous mood, but that may change.’
‘Lady Edith speaks true, my lord!’ one of the servants burst out. ‘My Lady Edith runs this hall better than anyone. It is why the storage barns are overfull this year and our sheep are...’
At Edith’s look, the servant’s voice trailed away. Edith bit her lip. Now the Norsemen knew they were not poor. How much chance did the food have of getting to the people who needed it the most? These Norsemen warriors would more than eat their fill and leave everyone else to starve, just as Egbert had once attempted to do.
‘The hall is more prosperous than it looks? Show me. Now. While you have a chance to undo your deception.’ Brand Bjornson took a step closer to her. She became aware of the power in his shoulders and forearms. He was definitely not a man to be trifled with.
Edith shifted in her shoes, torn between a desire to protect what was rightfully hers and the knowledge that her unwomanly success might be the only thing to save her and her home. If she left now, she’d never be able to return. She’d seen enough refugees after the fall of Eoferwic ten years earlier to know her chances of survival. Who would give her shelter like she’d given shelter to Hilda? Anyone who might have helped her was dead or had lost their lands and had fled to the south. Edith curled her hand into a fist. She had no choice but to reveal some of her secrets.
She had to show him the ledgers and the storage areas and hope that he’d understand what a huge undertaking this hall and lands were. He had to understand that she was essential and why they needed the food to stay here.
Later, she’d figure out how to get rid of him. Vikings never stayed long. As long as she was here, there was a chance her lands would be restored to her.
Edith raised her chin so she stared directly into his startling blue eyes. An awareness of him and the power in his shoulders filled her. ‘Yes, it is true, Brand Bjornson. I had no wish to give more than I had to. Can you blame me after the ravages that the Norsemen have wrought on the countryside?’
‘Show me!’ Brand ground out, regarding Lady Edith with her very Anglo-Saxon wimple, figure-skimming dress and proud tilt to her nose. He struggled to remember when a woman had affected him this much.
Her figure was not overly curvy, but pleasing enough,