Page 73 of A Song of Ravens and Wolves
She sighed. ‘If it is truly what you wish.’ She finally conceded. ‘I will leave tonight after the feast.’
Chapter 28
A Rotten Branch will be Found in Every Tree
As we approached the fortress, I took a deep breath of the crisp air to calm my nerves. It smelled like the moss and decay of my childhood. My eyes traced the walkways filled with people, women carried baskets on shoulders, filled with fish. Men littered their paths talking business and propping up railings.
‘There are so many people,’ said Ligach. ‘It’s no like my village.’
‘Have you never been to Atholl?’
Before she could answer, Sigurd turned the ships, guiding them into the dock until they bumped the weathered pier. My eyes followed our line back downstream. No noise. No spiralling smoke. No outward sign of our camp. We would go unnoticed.
Our men spilled out onto the wooden jetty to tie the ships. I clambered out, slowed by my awkward shape.
‘We will leave the ships here,’ said Sigurd.
‘Aye, no doubt my father will send an envoy to greet us.’ I glanced up towards the fortress.
At the end of the dock, everyone stood still as statues, mouths like gasping trout. One of my father’s men, Blaine, with yellow hair flapping like a haystack came jogging towards us.
‘Do you have business here?’ Blaine demanded.
‘I am here to speak with your Laird King Malcolm,’ said Sigurd.
The rest of his chieftains guarded me like wolves, circling me and eying up their prey through coal-dark eyes. They kept Ligach and I hidden and safe. A formidable sight if you had notseen them drunk or playing with their young children or being scolded by their wives.
‘The Laird King is not accepting visitors. If you have no trade here, then I must ask you to leave.’ Blaine found himself toe to toe with my husband, his hand twitching on the hilt of his sword. Sigurd’s men erupted, in one swift move their weapons were drawn.
‘Blaine,’ I said, touching a hand to my husband whose muscles were stiff with fury. The sea of Danes parted. ‘We are here to see my father.’
At the sight of me, his face split into a smile. ‘Princess Olith. Your father will be pleased.’ His eyes grew large as he glanced up and down my attire and caught sight of my belly and gave Sigurd a suspicious squint. ‘Is this your husband?’
‘Aye.’ I turned to Sigurd. ‘This is my husband, Jarl Sigurd II of Orkney and his chieftains, at my father’s behest.’
‘We had better go and find the Laird King.’ He gave one last look and then waved a hand back towards the direction of the fortress. ‘Ye’d better follow me.’
Blaine turned and weaved his way back through the crowd, their fear palpable. If Blaine was fearful, he did not show it. My father had no doubt schooled him to expect us before winter. My father schooled his men in a lot of things, treachery being highest on his list. I followed with Sigurd and his chieftains as my guard, stalking behind me like a pack of wolves.
‘How are my sisters?’
‘Donada will be here this evening, she is to meet the Earl of Moray. She will look forward to seeing you.’
That was a lie. My father had no intention of marrying her to the Earl of Moray. It was like a game of Tafl, Donada my ivory king, and my father, a very worthy opponent. Now I just needed to keep her surrounded by my men.
‘I shall look forward to it,’ I said, clasping my hands over the swell of my belly.
The centre of the walkway split into three. The first moved down to the left, opening up into a large timber building, woven with hazel stems and thatch made from reeds from the firth. I knew where the arched doorway would lead. An archway that all my father’s men had known only too well. We turned right.
‘That is the main hall, there,’ I said, pointing to the archway in front of us. ‘It is Alba’s biggest stronghold.’
‘And where we first met,’ said Sigurd.
Blaine stopped. ‘I must ask that ye wait here.’ He bobbed his head and disappeared, pushing open the door in a rush of peat fire and roasted meats. They would be feasting again. Feasting and rutting, that was all they were capable of.
While we waited, Sigurd’s chieftains slithered around the entrance, touching handrails, peering into water, lifting baskets. They were like unattended children.
‘Put it down,’ I barked in Norse.
