Page 44 of Her Dark Viking
"I have no horse." The lad looked bewildered.
"You do now. Knut shall be yours. I shall purchase another mount for your mother."
"Mine? He is mine?" The lad moved closer to the horse, patting the silky neck.
"He is." Gunnar went down on his haunches to bring his eyes on a level with the small boy. "You were born a Celt, Donald, but you will grow up among Vikings. A Viking must ride, so he needs a horse. Now, you have one. Learn well, become a fine horseman and make me proud."
The boy gaped at him, open-mouthed. Gunnar winked and stood. "We should return to the feast. You will sit beside me?"
"Yes, sir." Donald trotted back across the settlement at Gunnar's side, chattering endlessly about his plans for Knut, his enthusiasm and excitement almost palpable as they resumed their seats in the hall.
Mairead glanced across at her son, frowning.
"Where have you been?" she whispered in Gunnar's ear. "And what have you done with my timid son?"
"We went to the stables. I have bribed him with a horse. And I told him how he could make me proud."
"You are a cunning man, Gunnar Freysson, and I love you."
"It is kind of you to say so, wife, particularly as the horse was to have been yours. I love you too." He reached for a steaming dish. "More carrots, my sweet?"
Gunnar foundmarried life very much to his liking. His habit had been to spend much time out of doors, or away on trading or hunting expeditions, but he found himself seeking to curtail such absences. He became inordinately fond of his hearth, or more accurately, his bed.
Aigneis was most obliging also in her willingness to whisk Tyra off on some domestic errand or other whenever Gunnar appeared in the longhouse doorway. As for the lad, he was invariably out of the house in any case, spending most of his waking hours in the stables. Donald was proving to be an adept pupil and had taken to the saddle with a natural ability. He had an easy way with horses; the boy's usual shyness dropping away when in their company. He had discovered his niche, he was happy. Gunnar was relieved, he had not expected that situation to be so easily resolved.
He lay on his back, a fur drawn across his abdomen to offer a cursory nod at modesty in case his servant might return. Mairead bustled about their chamber, seeking to restore her clothing to some semblance of order following a most pleasant half hour tumbling with him among the blankets.
"I must go the Hafrsfjord." He made his announcement to her back as she bent to poke at the glowing embers in the fire pit. "I have ewes which need to be taken to the market there, and we will need to purchase supplies for the winter. I have delayed the trip, but I cannot put it off much longer."
Mairead turned to regard him. "I see. Will you be away for long, Jarl?"
"A sennight, perhaps two. I was thinking I might make a detour to Skarthveit on the return journey."
"Skarthveit?" Mairead recalled Hafrsfjord, the bustling port where she and the other female slaves had been landed when they first arrived on these shores. Her memories of the cold, wetquayside were not pleasant ones, but that was behind her now. She did not recall mention of Skarthveit before.
"It is the homestead of my brother, Ulfric. You will have seen him. He prevented his slave-master from killing your friend that day."
Mairead shuddered. She had never been so afraid in her life. "Yes, I remember. He had blond hair."
"Aye. He favours our father more than I. He does not know of our marriage yet so I should visit him and share the glad news."
"Oh."
"So, it would be best if you were to accompany me. You may make the acquaintance of your wider family. I have a sister, also, and a nephew."
"Oh." Now she stood and stared at him warily. "Are you sure?"
"Quite sure. Idohave a nephew, and a sister, I would not make a mistake on such a matter."
"Fool. I mean, are you sure you want me there. What if they do not approve of your choice?"
"They will. Or more properly, they will not mind one way or the other. I am the bastard son of my father, a Freysson but not with any expectation of inheriting. Nor was it ever assumed I might marry in order to forge an alliance of any sort. Fine Viking families do not offer their daughters to bastards. I grew up in my father's house beside my brother and sister. I love them dearly and they love me. Our family is close, but I am on the outside, so my life is my own. Gunnarsholm is mine. I live as I please. I marry as I please."
"But..."
"You will be made welcome in my brother's longhouse, I promise you this. So will our children."
"They are to come too? Both of them?"
