Paying the Viking's Price

‘Not many women would be as generous as you.’

‘Hilda had little choice when my husband’s eye lighted upon her.’ Edith shrugged and hoped that he wouldn’t guess the pain she’d suffered because of it. The marriage had been one of duty. She had no right to expect anything, but she’d hoped that a sort of friendship might emerge. It never did. And she wasn’t cold or unfeeling as Egbert had claimed. She did feel things deeply. ‘I’d planned to send her away once things quieted down, marry her off to a farmer, but it will not be my choice now.’

‘Whose choice will be it?’

She made a careful curtsy and her keys jangled. The tiny sound comforted her. She might be a concubine, but she had privileges. ‘Why, yours as you are the new lord.’

His entire body stilled. ‘Are you always that involved with your household? Ordering their lives?’

‘Someone has to care for their welfare, but Hilda is my kinswoman and merits extra-special care. We share a grandmother. She lacks a dowry and everyone knows about her former position. It limits her marriage prospects.’

‘And what does she do here when she is not being a scullery maid? What does she prefer to do?’

Edith bit her lip, thinking quickly. Confessing about Hilda’s hatred and fear of the Norsemen would be a bad idea. She had to find a way to protect Hilda. She’d given her word that Hilda would not have to go into the hall today. In a few days’ time, she might feel differently and Edith could bring her back into the main household. ‘She works in the kitchens now. She prefers it that way.’

‘So then, this is the way you take your revenge?’ His face became colder than the moors on a winter’s day.

She squared her shoulders. Brand Bjornson did not need a further explanation. He’d already humiliated her enough for one day. ‘Hilda asked for the position. It suits her needs.’

‘No doubt she did.’ His mouth became a cynical white line. ‘Make sure she appears at the feast. In her best gown.’

‘Is that an order?’

His long fingers clenched at his side as if they were searching for the axe he’d carried earlier so he could bury it in her head. ‘If you will not do it any other way, then, yes, consider it an order. Seeing two Northumbrian women enjoying themselves will do much to allay the fears of the people who farm this place.’

‘Very well, I will inform her.’ Edith put a hand to her head. With each passing breath she knew her impulsive decision to accept his offer was more of a disaster waiting to happen than an inspiration. She touched her keys and drew strength. He wouldn’t stay. She would regain her position. ‘No more kitchens for my cousin.’

‘In future, leave the ordering of the household to me. No more giving disagreeable tasks to people you dislike.’ He held out his hand. ‘I will have your keys as well. You will have no need of them. The food shall be kept under my control.’

Edith struggled to gulp a breath of air. Those keys had hung from her waist ever since her mother had died. Without them, she’d be naked and the entire household would cease to function. ‘I’m not used to having idle hands. I am good at the practical things. I know where everything is, what needs to be done and in which order.’

‘Such as?’

‘Seeing to the accounts. I like being efficient and do it every evening. You need not worry. I’m no thief.’ She bit her lip. She had to admit it before they went any further. Seeing Hilda just now and the way she moved brought it home to her. She was no concubine, made for a man’s pleasure. She was the sort of woman that a man married because he had to and she had sufficient dowry. ‘You appear to have the wrong idea about me. I’ve no experience at being a...a concubine, but I can run a household.’

‘I run my own household.’ His tone allowed for no dissent. ‘The keys, Lady Edith. Or do I tear them from your waist?’

He would. The barbarian! Hilda’s story held more than a ring of truth. She could imagine him going berserk on the battlefield and slaughtering indiscriminately. Silently she undid them and placed them in his hand. Suddenly her entire being was lighter, but her waist felt naked and exposed. If anything, the bareness symbolised her new status as a slave. Edith schooled her features. She refused to burst into tears. She should have expected the request earlier.

He weighed the keys carefully and placed them in a pouch that he wore.

‘A large house is different from a warrior’s camp,’ Edith argued. ‘It takes a lifetime to master.’

‘I have a lifetime.’

‘I only wanted to help in case...’

His lip curled. ‘In case I was only fit for the pigsty?’

‘I never said that.’ Silently she prayed he’d see reason. Surely he couldn’t be that blind. He had to know that she could never play love games and that she alone should have control of the keys. Men did not control the keys.

If anything, his face became harder and more unyielding. It was easy to see why the rumours about his ferocity swirled about Northumbria.

‘I know what needs to be done and rest assured I will discover which door each of them unlocks. You will find I learn quickly.’

A shiver crept down her spine. He would discover precisely where she’d hidden everything. Instead of listening to Hilda, she should have been dismantling the key ring and retaining those keys she needed. Hindsight was a luxury she couldn’t afford.

‘And what do you suggest I do? Take up pig-keeping?’ She gave an arched laugh.

A distinctive heat came into his eyes. Bedchamber eyes. ‘It is always good to learn a new skill. You will see flirting will come to you in time. I’ve no intention of forcing you to keep pigs.’

Edith’s throat went dry. She swallowed hastily, trying to ignore the warm tide flowing through her. No man had the right to look that good. ‘A new skill! What sort of skill? And who will teach me? You!’

‘Having second thoughts, my lady? You can beg for the convent if you wish.’ He put his hands behind his head. ‘I might be open to begging.’

‘You know nothing of me.’ She crossed her arms. ‘I gave my word and will endeavour to keep it. I have always done so, regardless of what other people have done.’

‘Then what is the problem?’ He ran a finger down her cheek, sending a delicious shiver throughout her being. She attempted to banish the feeling, but it grew. Edith concentrated on a spot above his shoulder, rather than falling into his gaze again.

‘I merely wanted to warn you of my failings. Personally I have always found it most profitable to employ people where they were best suited.’

He made an impatient noise in the back of his throat. The rest of her speech died on her lips.

‘I assume you know how to play tafl, sing and make amusing conversation?’ he asked in a voice laced with heavy irony. ‘That you are not devoid of culture in the North Riding?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Edith said, tapping her slipper on the ground. How dare the Norseman infer that she was some sort of barely cultured barbarian, instead of him! ‘Those are the things people do in polite society.’

He leant forwards until their foreheads touched. ‘You should have no problem in your new role. Keep in mind that you need to please me and we will get along well. I’m far from ungenerous to those who please me.’

‘But...’

His breath caressed her cheek. ‘You fear we won’t suit. That I will have no idea of your tender sensibilities as I have spent my entire life soldiering and sleeping on the ground rather than on a soft bed. You fear the barbarian.’

Edith shook her head quickly, too quickly. Her body tingled with awareness of him and his proximity to her. She tried to think straight, but all she could think about was the blueness of his eyes, the broadness of his shoulders and the strength in his arms. ‘I hadn’t really considered where you have spent the night. I have no idea of your needs.’

‘Shall I demonstrate? My needs are simple.’ He put his hands on her shoulders, preventing her from moving, even if she wanted to. Edith found her feet had turned to stone, but his touch was oddly gentle rather than rough. A warmth radiated outwards from his fingers, infusing her body.

Edith lifted her chin and met his sardonic gaze. He intended on teaching her a lesson. She shuddered slightly, remembering the lessons that Egbert had taught her and how her body had borne bruises for weeks afterwards. Swallowing hard, she screwed up her eyes and hoped.

‘Don’t be frightened of me,’ he murmured. ‘It won’t hurt. I never hurt my women.’

His mouth descended, brushing hers. Far more gentle than she had considered possible, but firm enough to be there and not her imaginings. Questing and seeking, rather than hard and demanding.

Her eyes flew open and she saw all traces of mockery or sardonic dark humour had vanished.

Her body arched towards him and collided with his hard muscular frame. Her hand reached up and her lips parted slightly. She tasted his lips and the warmth grew within her. She moaned slightly in the back of her throat.

He lifted his head. The kiss was over. He let her go, stepped away and eyed her with a cynical expression.

‘I have found the correct person for the position, despite your protestations.’

Edith knew her breathing was coming a little too quickly and her lips felt far too full. Shame washed over her. She’d done it again, responded inappropriately.

‘What was that supposed to prove?’ she asked, forcing her eyebrow to arch. She hated that her voice sounded breathless.

His lips turned upwards. ‘That you will prove to be an adequate concubine...in time.’

‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’ She clenched the folds of her skirt with her hand.

‘You don’t? Think on it. No doubt the answer will come to you, Lady Edith.’

* * *

Brand forced his body to remain still and unmoving as he sought to master his emotions. He never chased after a woman. They came to him. Lady Edith might stride away as though he represented the devil incarnate, but there had been something in her kiss. She’d be back, demanding more. He tasted his lips to see if the taste of her mouth lingered or merely the memory of honey-sweet lips.

Women were to be enjoyed for the moment, rather than taken into one’s heart and cherished. He’d seen what happened when you fell in love and bore the scars for daring to love a woman who was destined for his half-brother. Brand absently fingered his neck. He’d learnt his lesson early—never to rely on a woman, particularly one who declares her love in troubled times.

‘You think you’ll win, Lady Edith, but I know your type. You might have a pretty face, but you possess the same steel selfishness that my father’s wife had,’ he said softly, touching the pouch where the keys now resided. She hadn’t wanted to give those up! He would find what each opened and what she sought to keep hidden. Above all she’d learn that he was not to be treated like a fool. ‘You will learn who the master is now. And I will find out exactly what you think is not mine! I will unlock all your secrets.’

‘Ah, there you are, Brand,’ Hrearek said, striding towards him, his craggy features split with a wide grin. ‘You told me to find you when we discovered something hidden. We’ve found a locked storehouse.’

‘You admit I was right.’

‘The gods love you, Brand.’ Hrearek slapped his hand against his trousers. ‘The woman didn’t lie. This is a hugely profitable and well-run estate, even if they have tried to hide it well. You are truly fortunate. How do you do it? Time and again?’

‘The harder I work, the more fortunate I have been. It is the only secret.’

Hrearek frowned. ‘If that is the way you wish to play it, then so be it. I am sure there is more to your success. You must have been born under a lucky star.’

‘It only seems that way now. No one would have said that ten years ago.’

‘I hadn’t thought of it like that.’

‘You should. Now, where is this locked storeroom? Hopefully you have obeyed orders and not forced the door.’

‘How will we get it open?’

‘I have the means. Lady Edith has been most accommodating.’ Brand pulled out the circlet of keys. He didn’t doubt that Lady Edith knew of the stash. Whether or not she was responsible for the estate’s profitability remained to be seen. Keeping it hidden from the casual raider was one thing, but keeping it hidden so that it could be used for another rebellion was quite another. ‘It belongs to me. Show me.’

‘With pleasure.’

* * *

Brand regarded the large quantity of sheep’s wool that Hrearek and his men had found carefully secreted in what looked like a disused hut. The barns and other storage areas had a few bits in them, but this hut possessed a great quantity of wool.

‘You were right, Brand!’ Hrearek exclaimed. ‘Some day you must teach me to read. That witch never mentioned this stash of wool. I listened hard enough and remembered. I don’t trust these Northumbrians. They’d steal and lie quick as you like. You are far too soft. There will be another rebellion unless 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 on the rubbish heap.’

His face grew thunderous. ‘You didn’t come to find Godwin. You came because you knew the wool and salt cod were discovered. What else is there, Lady Edith? What should I be looking for? What was worth spoiling a year’s supply of salt cod for?’

‘You’re wrong.’ Edith forced her shoulders back. She had excellent reasons for keeping quiet about the salt cod and the wool. ‘Godwin’s mother asked me to find him as she worries. I happened to search here.’

‘A happy coincidence, then.’

‘Yes. That’s right. Is there anything else?’ She waited with bated breath for him to ask about the passageway.

‘I wish you to look your best for the feast. You should be attending to that rather than searching for a lost child.’ Brand’s lips turned upward. ‘Your cousin might be able to help you with your hair if you are not used to such things. Now if you will excuse me, I have an estate to explore. On my own.’

Edith clenched her fists as her confidence plummeted. He enjoyed baiting her and he hated her wimple! She would keep her secrets. Her people were counting on her. Somehow the thought lacked comfort.

Chapter Four

The sound of Hilda’s outraged shrieks combined with the pandemonium of cauldrons crashing and heavy objects falling filled Edith’s ears even before she reached the kitchens. Edith gritted her teeth. Hilda never liked to make things easy.

‘Hilda,’ she called out as she entered the kitchen. ‘I need you. Immediately, if not sooner.’

At the sound of her voice, the tableau froze. The cook gesturing towards a black cauldron, and Hilda’s sulky expression while a variety of ladles and spoons lay on the floor as the kitchen boys cowered, told Edith everything she needed to know. Brand was right. The kitchen was no place for Hilda.

‘Hilda, it is time you leave the cook and his staff to do what they do best.’

Hilda stuck her nose in the air and marched out of the kitchen. ‘Me being a scullery maid was not one of your better ideas, cousin. That cook actually expected me to wash the cauldrons! Do you know how long it takes me every night to keep my hands soft? I was born a lady, not a thrall.’

‘Then you will be relieved to know that you are to be in the main hall tonight. Lord Bjornson has requested your presence at the feast.’

The colour fled from Hilda’s face. ‘You told him about me? You promised, Edith! What else have you done?’

‘After your little performance back there, I don’t wonder King Halfdan in Eoferwic doesn’t know about you!’ Edith crossed her arms. Hilda could not have it all her own way. ‘Try taking some responsibility, Hilda. Brand Bjornson saw us talking earlier. You should know that I do endeavour to keep my promises.’

Hilda had the grace to flush. ‘You should change the cook. He has not the least idea about proper respect.’

‘Fulke has been with us since before my father died, first as a kitchen boy and now the head cook.’ Edith took a calming breath. Screaming at Hilda wouldn’t serve any purpose. Hilda had never liked hard work. ‘In the kitchen, he is king. It has always been that way. What precisely did he do, besides ask you to clean the pots?’

Hilda picked at her sleeve. ‘If you must know, I became angry at that blasted cook for saying you were a Norseman’s whore. He had no right.’

Edith winced. She could well imagine the insults which were bandied about, but they were only words. Words only had the power to hurt if she let them. She’d learned that lesson long ago with Egbert. Inside she knew her reasons and some day everyone who mocked her would be grateful. ‘I believe that is what a concubine is.’

‘But it isn’t right. It hurts to be called such things.’