Paying the Viking's Price. Michelle Styles
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they know we are the masters with iron fists.’
Brand fingered the wool, good wool which could easily be sold in Jorvik. ‘She expected us to leave after a quick inspection. We were supposed to take her offering and go. She had it completely planned.’
‘She doesn’t know you!’ Hrearek laughed. ‘You have a cunning mind.’
Brand frowned. This haul had been far too easy to find. There was something more here. Had to be. From a distant place in his mind, he recalled his mother explaining how, as a girl in Ireland, her mother had always made sure that any raiders would find some items easily and the family would not lose everything.
Had Lady Edith played the same trick? What was the true reason that she put staying here above her honour? She wasn’t a natural concubine, despite the passion in her kiss. She possessed a calculating mind. He looked forward to playing tafl with her, pitting his wits against hers and unwrapping her many layers. It added to rather than detracted from her appeal. He wondered what she’d be like in bed and why her late husband had deserted it.
‘I want the wool cleared out of here.’ Brand pushed the thought away. Bedding a woman always ended the mystery. It was as simple as that. He should look no further. ‘Find somewhere else to store it.’
‘Why?’ Hrearek widened his eyes. ‘It is safe and there is naught else here. It is absolutely pouring down outside. The wool will get wet.’
‘The wool will be safe enough.’ Brand tapped a finger against his mouth. ‘The Lady Edith has hidden something else here and I mean to find it.’
At his word, his men hauled the wool out of the hut and onto the muddy ground. The final bundle of wool revealed a trapdoor with a lock. Brand fitted several keys before finding the correct one. When he lifted the door the gut-wrenching stench of salt and fish filtered out—salt cod. A most surprising choice.
Financially, salt cod would do Lady Edith no good. It was difficult to transport and easy to acquire. He should know. He’d made a small fortune by transporting the stuff in the last few years. What else was there in that room?
‘Thor’s hammer. What does she want this stuff for?’ Hrearek put his hand over his mouth and started for the open air. ‘It makes me vomit. Let’s go.’
‘To keep intruders away.’ Brand smiled. Lady Edith was not as clever as she thought. ‘We go nowhere but forwards. We find everything. When I am finished, this hall will hold no secrets and this salt cod conceals something big.’
Hrearek stopped. ‘You amaze me, Brand. Even after all these years, your capacity to think ahead never ceases to astonish. Do you remember when we were stuck in Constantinople and you—’
‘Allow me. We need to see what lies behind this salt cod.’ Brand bent down and started to empty the hidden room. He had no time for reminiscences about what had happened. His past was behind him. He’d been lucky rather than clever. Others had died and he’d learnt once again that you could not trust a beautiful woman.
Behind the salt cod stood a short passageway that lead out to the woods. ‘You see, there is more behind.’
Hrearek wiped his hand across his face. ‘We could have been murdered in our beds.’
‘If they had advanced through the salt cod and the wool...’ Brand said drily.
A faint noise sounded outside the hut. Hrearek immediately reached for his sword. Brand shook his head and went out of the hut.
‘Who goes there? Show yourself!’
‘Me, Godwin,’ came a small voice from the trees.
Brand crouched down and held out his hand. ‘What are you doing there?’
‘There are bad men coming. The lady said. I wanted to make sure that they didn’t come through here.’ Godwin gestured towards the hut. ‘The lady told me not to worry, that she’d taken care of it, but I don’t want anything bad to happen to her.’
‘There is no need to hide. All the bad men are gone. You are safe now. You are under my protection.’
‘And you are?’
‘Brand Bjornson.’
A young boy of no more than seven years came out, dusty and dishevelled. He held out his hand. ‘I will accept your protection.’
Brand took it gravely and shook it. The expression in the boy’s eyes reminded him of his youth. ‘And what do you do, Godwin?’
‘I serve the lady.’
‘Lady Edith?’ Brand crouched down so his eyes were level with Godwin.
‘That’s right. My da said I had to as he went with Lord Egbert. Only Lady Edith told me that she didn’t need any help.’ He scuffed his foot in the dirt. ‘Except she can’t watch for the bad men like I can.’
‘I can imagine.’ Brand rubbed his temple. Whichever bad men Godwin feared, Lady Edith had feared them as well. The passageway was blocked deliberately.
‘There you are, Godwin!’ Lady Edith called out, hurrying forwards. ‘Your mother is looking for you.’
‘I fear I detained him, Lady Edith.’ Brand put a hand on Godwin’s shoulder. Lady Edith knew. She had more spies than one boy. ‘He has been enlightening me.’
She put her hand to her neck. Several tendrils of black had escaped from her headdress and framed her face. ‘He is just a boy.’
‘I know what he is. What is his role here?’
‘He is the son of one of my husband’s retainers.’ Lady Edith nodded to Godwin. ‘Your mother has been searching everywhere for you.’
Brand put his hand on Godwin’s shoulders. ‘He was here, watching for the bad men. I’ve explained that no bad men are here and he is under my protection.’
Edith faked a smile as her stomach knotted. How much had Brand guessed? She had to hope that he hadn’t discovered the blocked tunnel. She’d blocked it so that Egbert could not sneak back and catch them unawares after he’d left for the rebellion.
‘Godwin, come with me, your mother is worried. She wants you to look after your baby sister. You are the man in the family now.’
Godwin screwed up his face. ‘I want to stay here with the warriors.’
Edith glanced at Brand. He had made a conquest.
‘You should do what Lady Edith requests, Godwin. A good warrior always looks after his women.’
Godwin scampered off, leaving her alone with Brand. Edith regarded the piles of wool and salt cod, rather than looking at his broad frame silently looming before her.
Her prayers had gone unanswered. Even when John the tallow maker’s son had told her about the find, she’d hoped that he had not uncovered the salt cod or the passageway.
‘You discovered my hiding place,’ she said when the silence grew too great.
‘The salt cod had spoilt. The wool remains good.’
Edith pressed her fingers together and tried not to scream as the rain started to fall heavier, soaking her to the skin. He enjoyed prolonging the torture. He knew about the passage. He had to. But she couldn’t blurt out about it in case by some miracle it had gone unnoticed. ‘And you are an expert in salt cod?’
‘My father was a trader and I learnt at his knee.’
‘I see.’ Edith wiped the rain from her eyes and the end of her nose. ‘I obviously made a mistake. It won’t be the first time.’
‘It is good to know you can admit to mistakes.’
‘I’ve no trouble taking responsibility for my mistakes.’ She raised her chin defiantly. ‘Ruined salt cod is not good. I paid good money for it and now it has no purpose except to go